#stem cell steve

[aunti-christ-ine]

[darkficsyouneveraskedfor]

When We Begin Again

Warnings:this fic will include dark content such as blood and possible untagged elements. My warnings are not exhaustive, enter at your own risk.

This is a dark!fic and explicit. 18+ only. Your media consumption is your own responsibility. Warnings have been given. DO NOT PROCEED if these matters upset you.

Summary: You find the man of the dreams, but your life slowly distorts into a nightmare. 

Characters: Steve Rogers

Note: And so we come to the end of Halloweek 2024. Thanks for those who read.

As per usual, I humbly request your thoughts! Reblogs are always appreciated and welcomed, not only do I see them easier but it lets other people see my work. I will do my best to answer all I can. I’m trying to get better at keeping up so thanks everyone for staying with me❤️

Your feedback will help in this and future works (and WiPs, I haven’t forgotten those!)

I love you all immensely. Take care. 💖

You hear the murmur from across the office but don’t look up. You're too enraptured by the cells of the spreadsheet, trying to figure out what won’t balance. There’s something missing. Something obvious and you just can’t see it. 

Your eyes narrow, nearly turning inward to your nose, and your name yanks you out of your Excel-induced trance. You sit up sharply, nearly sending yourself and your rolling chair to the ground. You grasp the arm rests and snap the seat straight on the axle. 

“My, my, looks like someone special’s thinking of you,” Louise plunks down the crystal vase of flowers on your desk, nearly demolishing your mouse at the same time. “Roses. Red? Three dozen, looks like.” 

The office clears and you glance around slowly as the fog dissipates. You have an audience. You’re not used to being the center of attention. Not until recently. 

You know who the flowers are from but it’s still a surprise. A pleasant one, yet a bit awkward. You take the card from the long plastic stem and read the message inside. It’s signed S. Rogers. 

“So, you’ve got a new man?” Louise prompts, still hovering by your desk. 

“Ooh, do tell,” Sella rolls over in her chair. 

“Please, we’re just getting to know each other,” you put the card in your pocket. 

“Just getting to know each other,” Sella guffaws as several other women turn to eavesdrop. “Seems like he wants to know a lot about you.” 

“Really. We only had one date.” 

“One date?” Louise exclaims. “Well, you must’ve put out if he’s sending roses.” 

“Lou,” Sella warns. 

Louise gives a naughty look, “pardon. I’ll file the HR report myself.” She cackles and a few others join in. You’re burning hot in embarrassment. 

“It’s new. I don’t want to get my hopes up,” you stand and grab the vase. “These are too big and pretty for my desk. I’ll put them in the break room.” 

“Is he handsome?” Louise goads. 

“Oh, I hope he is,” Sella chirps. “To be young and fun again, ah.” 

You carry the vase away, an odd clink against the glass with your steps. You keep your head down, overly aware of the eyes watching you. You enter the shared kitchen and put the flowers on one of the empty tables. Something dangles against the back of your hand. 

You turn your palm to catch the small locket before it can slide free. You don’t know how you didn’t notice before. A rose is engraved into the gold and the chain is a length of delicate links. You can tell it’s genuine gold. Oh my. 

You quickly wrap it up and slip it into your pocket with the card. You hurry back to your desk and sit. You try to focus on the spreadsheet but your vision is blurry with self-consciousness. A soft buzz draws you from your deconstruction. 

You swipe up your phone. It’s Steve. You can’t leave him hanging. Not after all that. 

You get up, keeping your cell up your sleeve as you march into the hall and to the restroom. You lock yourself in and answer. 

“Hello?” Your voice is wispy. 

“Hey, honey, did you get it?” Steve asks. 

Honey? He’s too good to be true. One date and it’s like it’s been one year. 

“The flowers, yeah.” 

“What about the necklace?” He asks. 

“Oh, yes, that too. Um, all the other ladies at the office love the roses.” 

“But what about you?” 

“Yeah, they’re pretty,” you assure him. 

“Are you wearing the necklace?” He asks. 

“I hadn’t had a chance--” 

“Put it on,” he says abruptly then clears his throat. “I mean, you should wear it. Send me a picture.” 

“Right, yeah. Totally. Sorry. I just started work and... oh Steve what a lovely surprise that was,” you chime. “I’m kinda in shock. It’s so sweet of you.” 

“You’re easy to be sweet to,” he purrs. “Did you have a good night?” 

“I did. Dinner was great.” 

“And... after?” 

Your cheeks are blazing. Your lips press together as you think of the kiss. So soft and tender. 

“I liked it,” you babble. 

He chuckles, “me too. So, we’ll have to set a date for the second.” 

“Of course.” You agree as you cradle your hot cheek. 

“I don’t want to keep you from your work, as much as I do want to,” he says. “Oh, don’t forget the necklace.” 

“Yeah, I’ll put it on now,” you promise. “I should go.” 

“Alright,” he says reluctantly. “See ya, honey.” 

You hang up and put the phone on the edge of the sink. You fish the necklace out of your pocket and untangle the chain. You admire the little rose before you stretch it around your neck and clasp it into place. It hangs perfectly around your throat, right at the hollow of your collar bone. 

You marvel at it, stroking the edges, and feel a tingle on your chest. It’s beautiful. 

“Isn’t it gorgeous?” A lilted voice drifts through your ears. 

You flinch, startled. You look around the empty bathroom. You frown. Who was that? 

You check your phone. It’s locked. Then you go to each stall and peer inside. No one. 

It... must’ve been in your head. Yet it was so clear. Like someone was speaking right next to you. Even as if the voice were inside your mind. Well, that’s it, isn’t it? You’re imagining things. 

You turn back to the mirror and raise your phone as you open up the camera. You should send that picture before you forget. You snap the shot and check it. 

Oh. Doubt needles at you once more. Just like yesterday before your date. That disbelief you can’t shake. Steve is too good for you. You’re the mousy woman who can’t help but trip over her own toes and rambles about old BBC period pieces. He’s tall and blond and handsome. 

Yet he likes you. He has to. He would give you such pretty things if he didn’t. 

🥀

“One month already,” Steve sweeps in with a glass in each hand. 

“Oh gosh, that’s not--” 

“Champagne,” he declares. 

“Really?” You squeal. 

“Nothing’s too special for you, honey,” he nears and hands you a glass. You take it and keep it over the edge of the couch, afraid to spill even a drop on his pristine white cushions. “I just love to spoil you.” 

“You do,” you agree. “It makes me feel a little... lacking. I wish I could give you more.” 

“You’re more than enough,” he assures you as he sits down next to you. “Cheers.” 

“Cheers,” you echo and clink his glass. 

You tip the glass to your lips and a weight shifts in the crystal. You hum in surprise and trickle a drop over the corner of your mouth. You dap it away as you examine the golden champagne. Tiny bubbles flow up from around the band sunk to the bottom. You gasp. 

“Steve,” you nearly choke on the dregs. “What--” 

He slides off the couch and sets his glass on the table. You shake your head. He’s not... 

“Honey,” he takes your other hand as he kneels. You’re overly aware of the moisture left on your fingers. Of course, you’re that ungraceful. “I know it’s early but I don’t want to wait. I just feel... this is everything. I want you forever.” 

“Huh?” The noise makes you cringe. You sound so dumb. 

“Please, will you make me the luckiest man in the world--” 

“You can’t...” you gulp. 

“Marry me. Please.” 

You stare at him. Stunned. Your hand shakes. You reach to put the glass down and fan yourself. It can’t be real. So soon? 

“I’ll beg,” he squeezes your hand. “Honey, please.” 

“Steve,” you eke again. “I... I’m just so... surprised.” 

“I love you,” he says. “I love you so much, you’re all I think about.” 

“I...” you look at the glass and the ring at the bottom. “Yes, Steve. Oh my god. Yes.” 

He smiles triumphantly and grabs the champagne. He drains it and reveals the ring between his teeth. He takes it and dries it on his shirt. You lift your hand, trembling and let him slide it on. 

“Oh, yes, a lovely ring, indeed. His mother’s, you know? Cushion cut and look at the trim...” You recoil and scratch your ears. It’s that voice again. 

It can’t be Steve. His lips haven’t moved and it isn’t a male voice. It’s a woman. Her tone is rich and sultry and she has an accent. It doesn’t sound like anyone you know. 

“Honey?” Steve blinks at you with concern. 

“I... I’m sorry, I just... can I use the bathroom?” 

“Uh, yeah,” he looks disappointed. “Sure.” 

“Sorry, I don’t mean to ruin the moment, I just have a tickle,” you pat his hand gently and let him go. 

You stand and hurry away. 

“He asked me on London Bridge. At midnight. Wonderful. Back home, lovely weather,” the woman speaks again, booming in your brain. 

You swallow a yelp before you hide behind the bathroom door. You shake your head and cup your ears, but that only makes her louder. 

“Then we went to Paris. Oh, it was splendid.” She sighs dreamily. 

You look in the mirror. You appear maddened as your eyes are round and your mouth is twisted in dismay. You lean in as you notice the glint in your iris. There are flecks you’ve never seen there before. A subtle pigmentation. You blink. Is there something in your eyes? 

It’s unmoving. That slender grey speck. You bat your lashes again. They’re longer too. 

You grip the sink as you lean into the mirror. 

“He always liked it when I wore red lipstick.” She preens in your ears and you whine. You push yourself back and look down at your hands. You step back and raise them to examine your fingers. They look more tapered than before. Not so stubby and thick. 

You shake them out and take a breath. There’s something wrong. Something strange. With you. 

Yet, what can you do about it now? You can’t run out on Steve after such a nice night. And a proposal. You’ll wait until the morning and you’ll call the doctor. 

You shrink and lean against the wall. It’s just your luck. You meet the man of your dreams, get engaged, and now your mind is fraying. You’re terrified. 

“Please,” you whisper, “be quiet.” 

You wait. There’s no answer. You must sound as deranged as you feel. You’re talking to yourself. There’s no one else there. 

“Honey,” Steve taps on the door gently, startling you, “everything okay?” 

“Um, yeah,” you croak out. “Yes, I’m good.” You unlock the door and make yourself smile. “I was just admiring the ring.” 

“Nice, huh?” He takes your hand. “It was my mother’s. If you need it fitted, we can go tomorrow.” 

“Tomorrow?” You wonder. “Mm, well, I have to see the doctor.” 

“Oh,” his brows draw together, “maybe after then.” 

🥀

“I can’t offer you answers today,” Dr. Lichten drones. “I can refer you to someone who can. It could be a temporary episode. Or something more... chronic. The best place to start is with someone who can determine which.” 

You nod solemnly. His expression remained unmoved as you explained the voice in your head, almost as if he didn’t believe you. You didn’t bother to mention the changes you could see. You fear doing so might land you in a room with soft walls. 

You take the referral form and leave. Your phone is buzzing. It’s Steve. You love how attentive he can be but at the same time, you feel suffocated. You just need space to figure out what’s going on. 

“Quite simple, dear. You’re not me.” The voice taunts. You stop short in the hallway, nearly bowling over a nurse. You apologise and keep going. 

You continue out of the clinic and idle in your car as you call the psychiatric office. You have an appointment set. You’ll be okay until then. 

“He could never be happy with someone like you. Look at you, honey. You are a mess.” 

“Shut up,” you growl as you shift into drive. 

The voice is saying all the things you’ve said to yourself before but this time, it’s not the same murmuring doubt. It’s bold and brazen and cruel. And that accent. 

Your eyes flick to the ring shining on your finger. You nearly forgot it that morning until Steve reminded you. It’s so beautiful. 

“And you’re not,” the voice mocks. 

You sigh and close your eyes. You’re not doing this. You’re not arguing with whatever this is. 

You drive back to your own place. You’ll sleep and hope it goes away. You haven’t been doing much of that since Steve came around. He fills your evenings and the mornings comes too quick. Can you really keep up with him? 

“You cannot,” she snickers and you smack your ear as you push through your apartment door. You groan and try to rub away the stinging pain. 

You lay down but don’t get much sleep. Even as the voice recedes into silence, you’re unsettled as you wait for it to pipe up at any moment. When you surrender to your consciousness, you run a bath and ease into it. 

You close your eyes once more and linger in the steaming water. As it cools, you open your eyes. You look down at yourself. Surely it must be the water distorting your body. Where did that freckle come from? Is your skin a different shade? 

Strange things. You wish they’d stop. 

Steve calls as you wrap yourself in your robe, as if he knows. You answer. 

“Hey, whatcha up to?” He asks. 

“Nothing. Just... chilling out.” 

“You back at your place? I can swing by with lunch,” he offers. 

“Oh, Steve...” 

“I might already be here...” he chuckles. 

That’s his way. He doesn’t leave room for no but it’s never a bad thing. You sigh. 

“Alright, come on up.” 

🥀

“We can do some evaluations for schizophrenia but you have no genetic markers for it. No family history. Dissociative Personality might be something too,” Dr. Percy explains, “even a degree of body dysmorphia. Unfortunately, your systems are inconsistent with anything in the DSM-5.” 

You nod. 

“So that means?” 

“We have work to do,” she says. “But we can figure this out. Patience.” 

“Patience,” you frown. You don’t know how much longer you can handle this. 

“I’m patient,” the voice sneers and you wince.  

Percy inclines her head curiously, “you hear it now?” 

You give a quiet, “yes.” 

“And?” 

You squeeze your eyes shut as your head rattles, “she’s laughing!” 

You wrap your arms around your head and fold over. Percy rushes over. She puts her hand on your shoulder. The voice goes silent. You whimper. 

“What is it?” She asks. 

“Nothing,” you utter. “It’s gone.” 

She clicks her tongue. “You need sleep. I can prescribe sedatives. I want you to be careful, alright? You only need one at night. Just so you can rest.” 

“Thank you,” you sniffle as you sit up. “I just want to be better.” 

“I know. We will find stability,” she stands and takes her pad from her desk. “Come back on Friday.” 

“Okay,” you rise grimly. 

Outside the office, you sit in your car and cry. You feel yourself splintering apart. The seams are unraveling in your mind, the voice getting louder and louder as yours fades away. 

“Look at us,” she trills. “Dear, please, have a look. You can be so foolish. Come, the mirror.” 

You lift your head and grab onto the rear view. You tilt it down and grimace. Red lipstick. You don’t even own a stick, you didn’t put that on... huh? 

“Just a bit of touch up in the ladies’,” she drawls. “Better, don’t you think?” 

“Why-- what are you? Why are you doing this?” 

“Those are my favourite pearls,” she ignores your desperate plea. You touch the earrings Steve gave you. “They made it through the Blitz, you know?” 

“No, you’re not real. Not. Real!” You shriek and beat your temples, “get out. Get out! GET OUT!” 

Your nails scratch your scalp and you recoil. Oh, heavens. Your nails. Oval, pedicured, pretty. No, those aren’t yours. You turn your arms over. Another freckle that doesn’t belong. 

You lean back again and look in the mirror. Your eyes are a shade of blue you don’t recognise. Your face is longer too, cheekbones more defined. That’s not you. You’re hallucinating. 

“You’re right, it isn’t you,” she chimes and laughs again. 

You bend over the steering wheel and scream. You need it to stop! Stop! Stop! 

🥀

You take another pill. The third one that day. She’s still there. You’re barely. 

You should be happier than ever. You’re engaged. Your wedding is almost there. You’re miserable. You want it to end. 

“Honey,” Steve calls through the door. 

“I said leave me alone,” you snivel and pull the blanket over you. “Please, leave me alone.” 

“Are you okay? You’ve been in there all day.” 

“I just want to be left alone!” You snarl. 

“You want to be left alone, dear, you can go,” the voice sneers. “Go on, then.” 

“No,” you mutter. 

“I’m not leaving so...” she insists. 

“No, no, you won’t win!” You holler. 

“Honey?” Steve turns the handle and you keep the blanket around you. 

“Go.” You tell both of them. 

“Please, don’t do this. I know there’s a lot going on but we can face it together.” 

“No, Steve, we can’t... I... I’m not good enough for you. I’m... I’m... I’m going crazy,” you whine. 

“Crazy? Honey, no. You’re fine. The doctor said--” 

“I lied. She doesn’t know what’s wrong,” you groan. “So leave me alone. I deserve to be alone.” 

“Dear, you can end this. You just have to go.” The voice chirps.

“No!” You snap at the lilting jeer. “No, I will not let you...” 

Your head swirls as the drugs seep into your blood flow. 

“Isn’t that nice, hm? The darkness?” She asks. 

“Mmmm,” you grumble and go limp. 

“Honey,” Steve rubs your arm through the blanket, “you tired?” 

You garble. The pills smother you as the edges of your mind haze. Your body is heavy and warm. You cling to the relief. You just can’t be you for a little. You just want to sleep. 

“That’s it, darling,” she goads, “close your eyes. Relax.” 

You drift down into the depths, swirling slowly through ribbons of silk. They wrap around you and cover your face, drawing tight until they suffocate you. Until they silence you. You whimper as the fabric draws tight around your throat and you flail through the void. 

You spin and open your eyes. A swath of light sears into your eyes. You see Steve, distant, far away. He leans in and cradles your face but you can’t feel his hand. His thumb strokes your cheek. 

“Margaret?” He says breathily, “Peggy,” he brings his other hand up as your vision narrows, “I’ve been waiting.” 

That voice hums as the light turns to a slit, “so have I,” she slithers and the darkness glazes over, dragging you down into the abyss.  

You are bound in a shroud within yourself. You cannot speak, you cannot move. You have no mouth, no body to do so. You have nothing. You are nothing. 

[hollybrooke]

minecraft lore - endermen anatomy & physiology

lore used in my fic steve vs the world

endermen seeing other endermen’s eyes- endocrine system releases serotonin thru pineal gland

enderman seeing other species eyes- endocrine system releases epinephrine and cortisol thru pineal gland - caused fight or flight response

prone to pneumonia when exposed to water or humidity, endermen from the end visiting the overworld are especially susceptible due to climate differences

tears are ender particles, they cry with floating glowing purple particles

ender pearl is an organ in cardiovascular system

connected to heart by an extra vein stemming from superior vena cava

ender pearl is responsible for hematopoiesis (blood production) instead of bone marrow

damaged enderpearl = severe anemia = no teleporting

teleportation is the result of blood cells passing thru semipermeable membrane to outside of skin (causing ender particles) then evaporating at light speed = quantum reaction and and teleporting

[emdashbitch]

the more I'm thinking about this "Bucky Barnes is a mutant who just happened to have a mutation that kinda looked like the super soldier serum's affects" AU the more it makes plausible sense with everything we know about mutants across the marvel cinematic omg

Dormant mutant genetics can be triggered by one of two things: extreme torturous circumstances or exposure to an Infinity Stone (evidence: this is how Wade Wilson and Wanda Maximoff respectively had their x genes triggered.) Pick your poison, Bucky was exposed to both of these things around the same time. He was literally forced to build weapons made from the Tesseract's energy like all the other POWs were, Bucky had extensive exposure to Tesseract radiation (also something Shuri canonically confirms). Bucky was also undergoing extreme conditions being worked to death, he had pneumonia before any of Zola's experiments even began and was on deaths door... how did a man who was practically dead already survive the intensely traumatic experience of having the serum when many men had died on Zola's table before him? Even before Bucky makes it onto Zola's table, a guard beats him nearly to death, breaking his ribs, because he's not strong enough to work anymore due to his pneumonia.

Why did Zola pick Bucky? Out of all the able-bodied men available, after a string of previous stronger men, Zola picked the one who was basically already dead? He risked exposure to a guy with an infectious disease no less who'd just been brutally beaten within an inch of his life with a fucking empty bomb shell thing?, to the point warring inmates teamed up to murder the guard in front of the whole camp, damn the consequences? Gabe Jones didn't think Bucky was going to make it another day and yet he survives without medical treatment, in awful dirty cold damp conditions in the cell, and even less food due to the group punishment for the guard's death for an indeterminate length of time before somehow ending up in Zola's lab.

Unless Bucky was already displaying unusual phenomenon. He was suffering with extreme exhaustion, pneumonia, broken ribs, deep contusions, likely the beginnings of body wasting through the disease and lack of food...his survival is shocking, I think anyone would be shocked to see a man with all that going on getting up and just continuing to live for who knows how long, Zola actively working on replicating the serum might've taken an interest because of this.

What were the Soviet soldiers doing all the way out there where they picked up Bucky? Why did they pick him up? Someone smarter than me also deduced that Bucky likely got himself out and walked some distance before the Soviets found him. Zola hadn't had time to get any messages out as far as we know and his deal with the Colonel didn't start until after Bucky was "gone". Unless the Soviets saw some real freaky shit going on with this random American soldier missing an arm, potentially the same thing Zola saw in the prison camp, and thought hmm we're not sure we want to give him back to the Americans who already have their super soldier (proto cold war with super soldiers instead of nukes...)

From what we know so far, none of the serums currently in use come from Bucky's blood. They come from the multiple different attempts to replicate Steve's serum. The CIA developed a lot of them and Isaiah Bradley's was just the one that happened to work, and Isaiah came before Howard's, and we can infer from that that all current serums stem from Isaiah's blood. Alexei says his serum was developed from stolen blood from a "semi-stable" CIA test subject, which was most likely Isaiah, since not only is Bucky's considered the most stable serum after Steve's, it's hinted that Zola lost whatever he might've done to Bucky when the facility exploded. He was given no time to pack anything up and would've had no way of knowing a possible serum used on Bucky worked at all given Bucky was still strapped down when Steve arrived. It seems unlikely HYDRA never tried to replicate Bucky's serum and it seems they weren't able to, I have two theories about that: they didn't have an Infinity Stone anymore, which Shuri believes was used in the place of Vita Rays, so they couldn't get whatever Bucky's got cooking to work on anyone else for that reason, or Bucky was never a super soldier at all, with no serum in his blood to attempt synthesizing from.

Just for fun: Bucky teleports. He just...pops around. This is complete crack but a common thing with Bucky is him just disappearing and reappearing in new locations that are implausible to reach even for a super soldier. And it's not just weird editing post-production either, characters react to it, it's a deliberate plot detail. Bucky's somehow able to disappear in seconds in front of T'Challa, the Black Panther, and a lobby full of people and none of them know where he's gone. It was a helipad btw. He somehow ended up on the helipad... dunno how he got there. Bucky jumped off a building with nowhere to go and a second later Steve looked, had a clear unobstructed view, and couldn't see where Bucky went. He does it more as WS than Bucky, so maybe as Bucky he's just not consciously aware he can do it so he doesn't, like the whole "I'm right handed so I don't always think to use [the arm]" thing whereas WS uses everything available to him.

Going with the Infinity Stone exposure theory, the stone Bucky was exposed to was the space stone, and the one Wanda was exposed to was first off the mind stone, and she had mind powers (along with the energy we've seen from all the stones) up until after the Infinity Wars where she came into contact with all the Infinity stones then boom, upgrade. Bucky gets shot once by the Power stone, that's it.

[mariacallous]

I have been to the undying convention.

I have been pressurized in a hyperbaric oxygen chamber and bathed in flickering gamma-wave light. I have had my electromagnetic field manipulated. I have taken an IV drip of green liquid that looked nearly radioactive. I have been frozen in a cryochamber (and felt amazing afterward) and baked in a one-man, zippable sauna (I didn’t). I have eaten more consecutive meals of beef than ever in my life, grinding unrefined Kalahari desert salt over the slabs of fat and protein. I have been told, after a scan, that I have the liver of a newborn baby (this is a good thing). I have caused a woman’s jaw to drop by telling her I once took antibiotics. I have pumped my vaccinated fist alongside RFK Jr. fans and stem cell enthusiasts and piss-injectors to the pounding beats of Steve Aoki.

Welcome to Dave Asprey’s 2025 Biohacking Conference: a symposium of tech bros, wellness influencers, psychonauts, and scientists, all hoping to thwart the ravages of time with unorthodox—and often unproven—medical treatments. The conference was held over three days in late May at the Fairmont hotel in downtown Austin, Texas. It was a vast bazaar of speakers, ideologies, practices, and gadgets, all with the express goal to help attendees “Live Beyond 180,” as goes the conference slogan, without the pesky red tape of the Western medical industry. And, while biohacking isn’t new, the rise of Robert F. Kennedy Jr.’s Make America Healthy Again (MAHA) movement, which champions alternative medicine and freedom of choice over proven interventions like vaccines, has given the concept renewed zeal.

“We’re tired of people saying we need permission,” Asprey, conference organizer and self-proclaimed father of biohacking, tells me on the first day of the gathering. Instead of blindly accepting pharmaceuticals, he says, this community marches to its own holistic drum.

“We take supplements that do the same thing. We figure out we don’t need that drug because we got sunshine. Or maybe we just buy our pharmaceuticals from overseas without a permission slip, and we pay a tiny fraction of the outrageous things in the US.”

He claims that biohackers are at the forefront of MAHA—but that it’s not about partisanship.

“We're leading the charge on making America healthy again and most biohackers are pretty much apolitical. Because having incredible energy in a sense of peace, in a sense of control of your own destiny, I don't think that's partisan.”

Biohacking is a big tent, combining Silicon Valley technology, Burning Man spirituality, and health libertarianism. If anything unites this crowd, it is a distrust of the medical status quo—particularly the pharmaceutical industry—and an appetite for tech-heavy alternatives. Think folk medicine powered by AI. The movement started gaining major traction around 13 years ago, when Asprey began organizing a loose-knit band of health fanatics at his annual conferences. But its roots arguably go back much further. “Where [biohacking] started 150 years ago,” says investor and so-called ambassador of biohacking Nick Zaldastani, “was the snake oil salespeople.” In the mid-1800s, Chinese laborers on the Transcontinental Railroad first introduced their white counterparts to the anti-inflammatory oils of the Chinese water snake. It was the inert tinctures sold by white copycats that gave rise to the pejorative “snake oil.” These charlatans, Zaldastani says, “would go around and move from city to city, because the minute people found out it did shit—sorry about the French—they were chasing after them.” The resultant struggle with medical authority, the sense of persecution, and doubts about legitimacy plague the biohackers to this day.

In these circles, autonomy is gospel. But if there is a preacher to this sermon, it is Asprey. Grinning cutouts of him greet you at the tops of escalators; his products stock the ad space in conference pamphlets. Patrons roam the halls in his signature anti-blue-light glasses, the auburn lenses making their eyes look like flies, trapped timelessly in amber. Asprey’s personal goal is to live to 180 years old—“50 percent better than our current best,” he clarifies, referring to the oldest person ever recorded at 122. And he is working on it, hard. He claims to have spent $2.5 million of his multimillion dollar empire—generated largely by his Bulletproof coffee brand and diet plan—on reversing his age via a specialized diet, rigorous exercise, a torrent of supplements, countless stem cell treatments, baths in frigid ice water and shimmering red light, and injections of his own filtered urine as allergy therapy.

Whatever myriad of elixirs Asprey is using, it does, on a superficial level at least, appear to be working. At 52, he looks great, standing out in a conference awash with obvious botox and plastic surgery. In his slicked-back hair, punk leather outfits, and signature glasses, it’s hard to believe the picture he paints of his former self, resembling “the 300-pound computer hacker from Jurassic Park.” He seems to have even achieved a younger man’s temperament: rapping “I’m a Little Teapot” onstage; dancing shirtless and gawky before the masses during Aoki’s set, surrounded by a coterie of women, one of whom attempted to flash him, unhooking her bra before being whisked offstage.

For a man desperately trying for timelessness, Asprey is certainly a man of the times—a wealthy entrepreneur at the head of a populist movement that vehemently opposes government regulation. He shares his de facto leadership of the biohacking sphere with a few other rich renegades, most notably Bryan Johnson, the venture capitalist whose Blueprint Protocol makes Asprey’s centenarian goals look quaint. Johnson aims for immortality outright—“DON’T DIE” screams his own movement’s slogan—and has even vampirically infused himself with his own son’s blood in the quest for the fountain of youth.

Not everyone at the conference strives for Asprey-Johnsonian extremes. Then again, not everyone at the conference is in their tax bracket. Some simply want to age with grace and vim, not blunted by medication or hobbling through hospice. In a true embodiment of the conference’s “Beyond” theme, some even have plans grander than this carnal plane. Attendee Joni Winston, who runs a wellness center in Costa Rica, tells me she is either 68 or 52, “depending on which calendar you use.” At age 60, she started counting backward, so that when she reaches her intended 120, she can claim the nirvanic age of 0. “I want to make as much progress in this life as I can,” Winston says, “so that when I die I can go to a different dimension and not have to deal with this 3D Matrix shit.” In the meantime, though, she’d still like to look good. “I’m not devoid of vanity. Spiritual evolution is my primary goal, but I’m still human, you know?” Others are simply afraid of the slow, painful crawl through old age and, of course, death itself. Melanie Avalon, 34, host of a biohacking podcast, tells me: “I’ve been haunted by the concept of aging since I was 12 ... And ever since then I’ve been searching for ways to stall the aging timeline ... I don’t know if immortality is possible, but if there is a way to practically move toward that, it’s biohacking.”

If the practice sounds inherently self-interested, that’s because it is. By definition, biohacking requires profound interest—often supplemented by large investments of time, energy, and capital—in the self. A certain Ayn Randian individualism rang through the halls of the Fairmont. But there was also a highly communal, near-revolutionary air here: a fervor to spread the good word, to empower the masses, to enact a grand subversion.

“The biggest blessing of Covid might be an erosion of trust in corrupt authority,” Asprey tells me. “We have the highest health care costs in the world and one of the worst outcomes for any developed nation. So the only logical conclusion is that someone’s stealing ... and we know who it is, right? It’s the pharmaceutical companies.”

Since November, then, the biohackers have seen a bright new dawn. With President Donald Trump's re-election, RFK Jr.’s subsequent appointment as secretary of Health and Human Services—people here refer to him as “Bobby,” affectionately, like an old friend—and the initiation of MAHA, years of work have come to fruition. MAHA’s agenda legitimizes the biohacking ethos: that we must curb the pharmaceutical industry’s influence on public health policy and research, that we are all overmedicated as a result, that self-governance over health is paramount. RFK’s antivax crusade has set off alarm bells across the scientific community—most recently, he gutted the Center for Disease Control’s vaccine advisory committee and appointed several new vaccine skeptics, just as the US is seeing a resurgence of measles outbreaks. But for the biohackers, it is an almost mythical underdog moment. David, at last, has been armed with his sling across the pit from Goliath.

Despite the MAHA fandom, every biohacker I spoke to, like Asprey, said they were apolitical. MAHA itself, they insist, is apolitical. What could possibly be partisan about wanting healthy kids? Having energy and vitality and a high quality of life? My only heated exchange over the conference’s three days was with Siggi Clavien, founder of Equilibrium Labs, the company that scanned my newborn baby liver. “Preserving, progressing, and saving the health of the children of this nation—that’s what MAHA is. And if you take a side on that either way politically, you don’t understand what we’re doing. And how dare you take that aspect, and challenge us trying to help children’s health?” (Clavien asks me “how dare you” three times over the course of our short interview.)

For the biohackers, decentralization is a feature, not a bug. It’s a safeguard against corruption. “The biohacking community,” Fabrizio “Fab” Mancini, a chiropractor and frequent flier of the daytime TV medical circuit, tells me, “is not owned by any one entity. It’s actual individuals.” In a community for whom deregulation is entirely the point, though, how do you screen for bullshit?

I ask Asprey about the vetting process for the slew of vendors and speakers hawking treatments on his trade show floor, many of them expensive, few FDA-approved. “I don’t look at anything as being fringe,” he tells me. “It’s either known or unknown, and it has evidence or it doesn’t.”

On the last day of the conference, I attend a talk on snake venom. A man named Sincere Seven is extolling the medicinal virtues of microdosing viper, cobra, and rattlesnake venoms directly into his patients’ bloodstream.

“The snake heals its prey before it kills its prey,” he claims, before personifying the serpent. ��I inject venom into you that will induce a rapid healing. Flood the body with white blood cells, kill off viruses, kill off bacteria, kill off tumors, kill off cancers—cause I don’t wanna eat that.” (Trace amounts of venoms are currently used in FDA-approved drugs and have been found to be effective in stroke treatment.) Seven is asked by an audience member if snake venom could be used to treat autism. While he hadn’t personally tested it yet, Seven stresses, “I’m willing to work with anybody ... Me and my colleagues, we are the clinical trials.”

“Oh, my gosh,” a woman breathes in the audience. Whether she is moved or horrified, I can’t tell.

At the end of the day, I get it. It’s not fair to say that I hate my body, exactly—the thing certainly has its merits, and what’s more, biohackers talk constantly of the power of positive language in manifesting your reality—but we’ve never really hit it off. One of my earliest memories involves my parents calling 911 when I had breathing trouble, the paramedics looming over me so tall I swear they scraped the ceiling. In college I was walloped with Lyme disease, my wrists frozen stiff one morning to the point that I couldn’t open my dorm room door. I’ve broken several bones, had a (non-cancerous) lesion removed from my scalp, passed a kidney stone. I have insomnia and depression and a perpetually swollen ankle. I’ve had Covid at least five times. As of this writing, I’m days away from an appointment with my dermatologist, who’ll carve a portion from my back to determine whether or not I have skin cancer.

Part of me really wants to endorse a grand arsenal of magic bullets. I am sick, and I am tired, and I want answers. I, too, long to throw up my hands and write off Western medicine in all its byzantine expense, to embrace something different and eccentric and even expensive, as long as it means getting healed at last.

There are other, better ways to transform health care, of course—ways that could lastingly help the millions who can afford neither chemotherapy nor a cryochamber—like universal health care, stronger regulation of the pharmaceutical industry, and a system more focused on preventative medicine. But these reforms will take political courage and considerable time. Instead we find ourselves entrenched ever further in a culture war, with politicians placing science in its crosshairs.

This, at its core, is the biohackers’ dilemma. Over and over at the Fairmont, I hear of the need for evidence-based science in medicine: for clinical trials and citations in the JAMA and double-blind placebo tests. In practically the same breath, I hear the vehement dismissal of evidence using those very safeguards—such as those used to develop vaccines—when it doesn’t square with the biohackers’ ideals. Though “Live Beyond 180” is a sleek-enough slogan for this crowd, another strikes me as equally fitting: “Science is dead, long live science.”

“The bottom line,” Dr. Fab says, “is that anybody can actually put up a booth and actually sell whatever they feel. That’s where an informed consumer is the key.”

But that’s a hell of an ask. Information, as we know all too well by now, ain’t what it used to be.

[teatotally]

hooooly crap you had chemo on halloween? i take it that means you have cancer if i'm not being too rude? I am so sorry to hear that and i guess it makes sense why you haven't had as much writing on your ao3 as you used to post. wow i am just so sorry. I feel kinda dumb because it didn't really occur to me to check and see why you hadn't updated your last wip and such. I hope that you are doing okay and that your treatment is working, I know how much cancer sucks and you are so talented that it would be extra awful to have something you do so amazingly at be a burden or obligation. Sending all my thoughts for you to get better.

Nah, it's not too rude--I did mention it in public, after all! I haven't talked about it here because I never felt like people on tumblr were interested in personal things, but I do talk about it a fair bit in my dreamwidth space, mostly as a way to keep track of what's happening. It's both dramatic and incredibly boring--the type of cancer I have is technically incurable (it's called multiple myeloma, which is a blood cancer, basically bone marrow), so it's this slog to get to a remission state, where it can then be managed like a chronic condition.

Which is a big change from years past, because there were few treatments for it, but now there are a lot, though the main thing people talk about is doing an autologous stem cell transplant. I am not going that route, so mostly I do a lot of chemo, which is injections (in my stomach, bleh), pills, and some infusions to rebuild the bone loss I've had (it was discovered when I had such excruciating pain in my neck that I couldn't move much, and it turned out I had a hole in my C6 vertebra). But apparently it always comes back.

That was really when my writing started to tank. I managed somehow to do a few things here and there, like Yuletide and Into a Bar, and writing my annual birthday fic, but it's been tough. I don't feel super bad all the time, but when I do feel bad, it's really crippling for creativity, and all of my drugs have a side effect of fatigue. I used to think of fatigue as just being extra tired, but man, it's so much deeper, and just unbelievably draining.

I am really trying to find the impetus to finish the Steve/Bucky virtual reality in Wakanda wip, because I really loved the concept and don't want it to just linger like it has, even though it wasn't being read by many folks. Ideally, I could work on it this month, now that I'm on a new chemo regimen and have to go in to the infusion center less often.

I really appreciate the kind words and support, and with any luck, I can get back to the writing and won't leave folks too frustrated. I guess I'll have a hell of an author's note explaining why I dropped the wip for so long. 🤗

[tilde44]

wow republican house majority leader steve scalise is receiving stem-cell treatment for cancer??! after republicans have repeatedly tried to ban stem-cell research, cause they think stem cells are babies?! and after trying to ban mrna research which gave us the life-saving covid vaccine and still holds more future promise? that republican leader? steve scalise? the republican who actually was shot by some crazy guy at a baseball game, but who still refuses to pass any sane gun control measures?!

oh yeah it is that same republican, and it's totally unsurprising.

[mightyflamethrower]

092024

Planned Parenthood and Absolute Evil

In newly released undercover video, Chief Medical Officer of Planned Parenthood Gulf Coast Ann Schutt-Aine unwittingly shares how Planned Parenthood circumvents the law forbidding the savage form of homicide known as “partial-birth abortion” (PBA):

“If I’m doing a procedure, and I’m seeing that I’m in fear that it’s about to come to the umbilicus [navel], I might ask for a second set of forceps to hold the body at the cervix and pull off a leg or two, so it’s not PBA.” Delivering a fetus alive past the navel, with intent to take any action after that will kill the fetus, is a violation of the federal partial-birth abortion law (18 U.S.C. 1531).

They could comply by killing the baby first with digoxin, but that would prevent harvesting stem cells from the victim.

As for the torn-off legs, maybe Planned Parenthood can sell not only harvested organs ($750 for a fetal liver, $1,600 for a fetal liver and thymus) but limbs too. Branch Vice President of Abortion Access Tram Nguyen was recorded admitting,

“I’m like, ‘Yeah, I have like a leg for you!’ I’m like, oh sh**, if other people were to hear me, they’d be like, you are f***ing evil.”

Yes, they certainly are. Consequently, the Democratic Party has their back.

When the video was recorded by David Daleiden’s Center for Medical Progress, Kamala Harris was the attorney general of California. From the New York Post:

Daleiden, whose nine-year legal saga instigated by Harris is still ongoing, released shocking undercover videos he took of Planned Parenthood executives discussing fees and prices for fetal tissues in July 2015.

He faces eight felony charges as punishment for exposing Planned Parenthood.

His lawyers, who include Steve Cooley, Los Angeles’s second-longest serving DA, contend Harris — who served as California Attorney General from 2011 to 2017 — singled him out to do the bidding of Planned Parenthood, who have contributed heavily to her campaigns for office.

These fiends tear limbs off living babies. Imagine what they will do to you once they have consolidated power.

The most important thing progressive

[liminalpebble]

Eddie's Education: Chapter 21

Minors DNI

Masterlist link

Chapter 21

The rain came down in loud gray torrents outside of Leia's warm little apartment while the team huddled together in her living room, thinking out loud and trying to plan, sharing every scrap of information and experience from the last few hours.

The news had spread to the entire town by now that Dr. John Ferguson, dean of Hawkins Community College had died that morning from a heart attack. Although no one in that room (or in most of Hawkins for that matter) would particularly mourn the death of such an unpleasant man, the little team was fairly certain it was no ordinary death.

Dustin was pacing in the middle of the room, thankfully taking the lead since Eddie and Leia were both too exhausted to even think clearly.

“Okay,” Dustin said clapping his hands, cracking his knuckles, and talking through his deductions like a dorky Sherlock. “I pulled a few strings at the coroner's office and saw the postmortem notes and photos...”

“Hold the fucking phone! You What? How?” exclaimed Steve.

Dustin resumed, saying loudly, “It doesn't matter Steve! We needed to know for sure that it's Vecna.” Steve threw up his arms in a resigned huff. Dustin continued in a softer voice, setting his hand gently on Leia's shoulder. “It is Vecna, Leia, I'm sorry.”

She nodded her head, saying with a bland expression, “great...”

“But!” Dustin said, holding up his finger. “I have a theory. The good news is, this time it doesn't seem like he can break through someone's mind enough while they're awake to physically hurt them. I think they have to be asleep for him to have his full power...power to kill. I guess killing him once must have weakened him. Also...”

“Wait! He used to be able to physically harm people when they're awake?” Leia asked, puzzled.

“Yeah..but...but now he could probably only make you hallucinate, scare you at best, when you're awake. He wouldn't be able to kill you...and of course music can pull you out as well,” he explained as if that would make her feel much better.

Eddie screamed at Dustin.“For fuck sake, Henderson!” as he came over to put an arm around his girlfriend, who still looked exhausted and vacant. Leia crossed her arms and simply nodded numbly, thinking sure, this might as well happen. She was rapidly getting to a point where nothing surprised her.

Dustin and Robin grimaced and side-eyed each other. “Sorry,” she whined out. “But we didn't want to talk about that too much and scare you more if it wasn't necessary and, look, wasn't necessary. Yay!” Robin gave a weak, sarcastic little cheer. Leia sat down heavily and pinched the bridge of her nose.

Eddie planted himself protectively next to Leia, and snipped, “is that all, Dustin? Huh? Any other great news for us?”

“Actually yes, butthead, there is better news. I think I know how to defeat him this time. I think that he was able to survive because after he technically died, his body remained and was reanimated by whatever power he sucks up from the upside-down. Whatever power the upside-down has, it's like a defibrillator times a thousand, and must regrow tissue better and faster than stem cells. It's the same reason Eddie survived. He was in the upside-down long enough that it restarted his heart and brain, then helped knit his body back together in a way that would have been impossible in our world.”

Eddie twitched and subconsciously stroked a finger over where his scars laid in ridges beneath the cotton of his shirt; as if even the mention of all of this made them throb and itch again.

Steve piped up. “So we need to kill this fucker again, and this time we have to make sure we drag him outside of the upside-down?” “Correct, dear Stevie. If we pull this bastard out of the weird biological stew that's keeping him on life support he won't stand a chance. I bet once we get him out of the upside-down he won't even be able to invade minds anymore. He needs his anchor-point to do so...has to be plugged into the outlet to charge up, and he can't move his body from that place in the upside-down as long as his mind is invading someone's here.”

“Are there still portals? And how will we know where his new nest is in the upside-down? We'll need to map it out,” Robin added.

“Well, we don't know...we're gonna have to....”

“What about weapons....

“Does anybody know how to get a hold of El again?”

“Why don't we...”

Everyone was on their feet again, debating and talking over each other...everyone except Leia who was still sitting in the same hunched position, eyes glazed over. No one noticed in the fury of their raucous discussion.

As she sat, in a twilight between waking and sleeping, she heard him; his voice like the creaking of an old door that shouldn't be opened.

Look at them.

She felt that gnarled hand under her chin again, as it lifted her head. Her apartment was again bathed in a surreal dark blue luminescence, everything looked hazy and sub-aquatic, but she could make out the shadowy figures and echoing sounds of her friends as they bickered and yelled. They were right there but seemed so far away, untouchable. The air moved languidly, fluidly, carrying sound more slowly, and weighing down upon her skin. Leia tried to stand but was cemented to her seat on the couch, she couldn't even rotate her head to see any more of Venca sitting next to her. Out of the corner of her eye she could barely see that he was slouched easily into the sofa next to her, an arm around her back as if they were a couple on a date. As if it were Eddie and herself, watching a movie.

Eddie! she tried to say. But the words only came out in her mind.

Hmmm...what about him, Leia? You think he could save you? Look at them, squabbling like children. You think any of them could save you?

I'm not sure...but...but maybe I could save them?

His hand was now smooth and cold and human; Henry's hand. He turned her head to face him, to meet his piercing blue eyes. Are you about to propose some kind of deal?

He cracked a lopsided grin, amused by the idea. I'm listening.

What if I came willingly? What if I let you kill me or take me, or whatever horrible thing you want with me, if it means you leave the rest of them alone? Especially Eddie.

He sighed and moved closer, looking more deeply into her eyes, reading the truth in her thoughts.

Oh! You really mean it don't you? It's adorable that you think you have any bargaining power here. You're smarter than that. Listen to me...he said, his voice becoming audible, lips moving as he spoke.

“I will win, no matter what. I will decide who lives and who dies, no matter what. And I will take you, no matter what. It'd be best if you make peace with that. I'll even get rid of the people who have hurt you and teach you to relish the death of your enemies, just as I do. I'm offering you such a lovely gift! Accept it.”

Looking into her mind, he could feel the fear and despair seeping in. He tutted as tears began to travel down her cheeks from the dark pools of her eyes, but he enjoyed seeing her break like this, so vulnerable. “Now now. Don't be sad,” he said breaking into a wide smile that didn't reach his frozen eyes. His long cold fingers wiped away her tears. “and don't be afraid. I have no desire to kill you. I'd rather not harm a single hair on your precious head,” Henry said, combing his bony white fingers through her black locks.

“Why?” she asked in a trembling whisper, her voice now free to leave her mouth.

“Because these days, I hunger for predators a good deal more than their prey. They...taste different. More meaty, more sustaining. And, thanks to your friends, I need heartier meals to regain strength these days.” He pointed over to where the shadows of her friends were still talking, “Of course, I have no trouble devouring some of the prey as well if they inconvenience me too much.”

Leia closed her eyes weeping, terrified of his power, feeling totally helpless to save her friends or herself, or her dear sweet Eddie. “No no...don't close your lovely eyes, darling,” Henry said with an artificially sweet smile, as he psychically forced her lids to open. “I want you to see. You'll be by my side, after all, when it all comes to pass.”

One cold hand wiped her tears away, while the other covered her forehead gently, like a nurse checking for a fever. Vecna was showing her his plan, his ideal of a utopia made in his image. As he did, he licked her tears off of his long fingers and hummed in satisfaction at the taste of her hurt, her sorrow, her gentle but stubborn empathy and kindness and grit which coated his tongue like sugar. It was somehow especially delectable. If the sour rage of the predators was his supper, she was an absolute confection of a dessert, and he would savor her eternally. She fascinated him far too much to kill her, this rare little bird. No. She would make a fine and clever pet for him...forever.

“Leia!” Eddie was screaming at her as she sat on the couch, eyes fogged over. Steve, vaulted over to her CD player and shakily hit the play button, cranking the sound up and blurting out a mantra of “Come on come on come on!” as they all clustered around the sofa.

Whenever I'm alone with you, you make me feel like I am home again...

Robert Smith crooned out as Leia's obscured pupils swirled from dead gray back to her usual warm black-brown. She heard the music and her mind latched onto the opening chords like a rope pulling her to shore. The hand on her face no long felt bony, cold, and otherworldly. It felt warm and familiar. The fluid air in the blue-scale hallucination began to shudder and swirl down, like a deep pool being drained, leaving the warm colors of reality. She felt her head surface into lighter air and took deep heaving breaths. Her physical body awoke with a start, eyes flashing all the way open, lungs heaving for breath, Eddie's terrified face was in front of hers, his warm hands cradling her face as she came back to the waking world.

“Eddie!” she gasped, throwing her arms around him, shaking like a frightened animal. She began to rush her words out. “He...he was in my head...he gets inside of me. I...I tried to make a deal...myself for you and he wouldn't take it, Eddie. He won't...he won't stop. He's going to take me and I can't protect you...or..anyone. If he can get to me he can get to all of you....oh god.”

Eddie held on tight. “Shhhhh. Shhhh. Hey...hey it's okay. We'll make a plan okay...we'll fight together.”

He pulled away to look into her eyes. “Look at me...together...okay? We're all gonna do it together.” The gathered group nodded frantically to her, just as Eddie did. Then he kissed her quickly, desperately.

Leia looked around, still shaking, but entirely back in the room now, breath becoming more regular. She swallowed, gaining composure, come on, roll with the punches. It's what you're good at. Use what you've learned. She reminded herself, then said in a measured tone, “I think whatever plan you come up with. I shouldn't know it. If he can get into my head whenever he wants like this, I can't know your next steps.”

Dustin clapped a hand over his forehead. “Holy shit. Obviously. Why didn't I think of that?”

She gave a wry smile, “To be fair, Dustin, you've very suddenly had a lot to think of.

Robin said, “Right. Well, whatever we plan, we have to plan without you, but can you at least tell us what he's telling you? It might help us. I'm sure he's giving you clues. He likes the game of it.”

Leia took a deep breath. “Give me a second. It's like trying to remember a dream...well...I guess that's exactly what it is. He...he doesn't want to kill me.” Her face twisted in disgust. “He wants to keep me as a pet. He said he is more interested in killing predators than prey because it gives him more strength, but he's not averse to killing prey if it gets in his way.”

“Jesus!” Steve huffed, looking up with his hands on his hips.

Dustin just nodded seriously and said, “Good, Leia, that's valuable information.”

“Oh...and...and he said he won't take me with him yet. He said he has another 'gift' for me and it's not ready yet. He said to tell you all to...” She grimaced, like she was holding back bile, “to let me sleep well for a few nights. He has other work to do and he wants his pet to be healthy when he comes back for her.”

Dustin shrugged, “Well, you do need to sleep. We can't keep you awake forever like this. And if he visits you again, he doesn't intend to hurt you. It might give us more information. Oddly, he might be doing us a few favors here.”

They all looked at him, staring him down in slight disbelief at his blunt bedside manner; all except Leia.

“What?” Leia said, eyeing them all up. “He has a point, guys.”

Eddie flailed his arms stood and saying, “Nooo. No way. No fucking way we're just gonna trust that he means that shit he said and....and...give you to him??” His voice was rising, cracking.

Leia, looked him in the eye standing up and grabbing him by both arms, “Eddie, listen to me. We have to be rational here. Anything we do now has a risk. If he visits me, he can't visit anyone else at the same time, right?”

She looked to Dustin for confirmation. “Right.” he said with a nod.

“Then he can't get to whoever the next 'gift' is to murder. He can't get to any of you. The longer I keep him distracted, the less dangerous he is. Dustin, what...what if all of us make sure music is playing while we sleep, will that block him out from being able to get any of you?”

“Yeah,” Dustin said, eyes flitting around following her train of thought, “Yeah...brilliant. That would work. The only times he's been able to get to you is when the music stopped, and we can't all stay awake all the time.”

Dustin took the lead, deciding which of their team would be room mates for the next few days. Sleeping in shifts and keeping the music playing for the other. Steve and Robin lived together, so they were an obvious choice, and babysitter Steve was quick to offer Dustin a place at their house.

“Eddie? Leia?”

“Yeah,” she said. “Yeah, we got it.”

“I...I fell asleep last time and the music stopped and he got to her, man. I don't trust myself,” Eddie said, shaking.

Dustin nodded and said quietly with a hand on his shoulder. “I'll stay with you two here then? I know it's not an ideal...uh...romantic scenario.”

Leia chuckled. “It's okay, Dustin. Our minds aren't exactly on that right now. I mean, the first priority is killing an otherworldly demon wizard, after all. Besides, I'll make you breakfast in the morning.” she said with a smile.

Robin, came closer, her sky blue eyes gazing down to meet Leia's. “How...sorry to ask...but how are you taking all of this so well?”

Leia shrugged, “Vecna's not the first asshole who's tried to ruin my life, intimidate me, and bully me into submission. I guess I know the type.” She paused and smiled to Eddie, “and thanks to people who believe in me, I'm learning how to fight back.”

@sunflowerdaydreamer @veemoon

[vbartilucci]

I have nothing but wishes for him to get better, as I don't wish illness on anybody.

But I wonder if any Republicans will be commenting on him taking advantage of a medical practice so closely tied (not necessarily factually) to abortion?

It's another of those "It's okay if WE do it" things, right?

[biblenewsprophecy]

Cyborg Abominations!

Final Spark, a technology firm based in Switzerland, reportedly "has successfully launched Neuroplatform, the world’s first bioprocessing platform where human brain organoids (lab-grown miniaturized versions of organs) perform computational tasks instead of silicon chips." Basically, they make a type of small "human" brain out of stem cells and use electrical impulses to have it perform various computational tasks. Reportedly, this uses a million times less energy than silicon chips. Could love of money be a factor here? Is this a type of cyborg abomination? What is a cyborg? Does any of this bring to mind the fictional alien species called 'The Borg' in 'Star Trek: The Next Generation'? 'Frontiers in Artificial Intelligence' considers this an important breakthrough for scientists to learn from and build upon. Michael Snyder says that these organoids are enslaved and that "these miniature human brains are tortured until they learn to obey" and that these 'organoids' are literally worked to death." What about human-monkey and human-pig genetics? Could these "inventors of evil things" be fulfilling last days' prophecies? Are we in the last days? Should Christians consider these human brain computers an abomination? Dr. Thiel and Steve Dupuie address these issues and more in the light of the Bible.

A written article of related interest is available titled “Inventors of evil things? Cyborgs? ‘They Are Using Lab-Grown Human Brains That They Have Enslaved Called “Organoids” To Run Computers’'

An additional related article of interest is available here: ‘Inventors of evil things’: Biological computers from human cells - Church of God News

LATEST BIBLE PROPHECY INTERVIEWS

FEATURED SELECTIONS

[beardedmrbean]

June 3 (UPI) -- Longtime U.S. Rep. Sheila Jackson Lee announced that she has been diagnosed with pancreatic cancer and will be missing certain dates in Congress for treatment.

Jackson Lee, D-Texas, made the announcement in a post on social media on Sunday.

"I am currently undergoing treatment to battle this disease that impacts tens of thousands of Americans every year," Jackson Lee said in her statement, posted on X. "I am confident that my doctors have developed the best possible plan to target my disease.

"The road ahead will not be easy, but I stand in faith that God will strengthen me."

Jackson Lee, a member of the Congressional Black Caucus, is the Democratic Caucus's chief deputy whip and vice chair of the Congressional Progressive Caucus. Jackson Lee, an advocate for social justice issues in the House, last month reintroduced the George Floyd Justice in Policing Act.

She said she remained committed to working with Minority House Leader Hakeem Jeffries, D-N.Y., and Speaker Mike Johnson, R-La., as she undergoes treatment.

"By God's grace, I will be back at full strength soon," Jackson Lee said. "As I pursue my treatments, it is likely that I will be occasionally absent from Congress, but rest assured my office will continue to deliver the vital constituent services that you deserve and expect."

House Majority Leader Steve Scalise was diagnosed with a treatable form of blood cancer, myeloma, and had undergone stem-cell transplant treatment earlier this year.

In April, Rep. Raul M. Grijalva, D-Ariz., announced that he had been diagnosed with cancer, but did not specify what kind. He said he was receiving medical treatment and continued testing.

Grijalva, who had served in Congress since 2003, is a member of the National Hispanic Caucus and chair of the National Research Committee.

[little-blog-of-horrors]

Random facts: Winter Barnes

Winter has no biological mother: Winter was grown with stem cells and DNA harvested directly from the Winter Soldier. They then implanted those cells into an artificial womb. The monitored her development, and genetically altered her over the next eight and a half months. Nurturing the traits they wanted, and removing the ones they didn't, until she was born, the first pure super soldier.

Winter has a kill count well over fifty: In a desperate attempt to salvage their ranks after Steve Rogers took down Hydra leader Director Pierce, Winter's training was accelerated. Rapid fire missions with Winter, resulted in the death of over 73 people by 2020.

Winter has never eaten solid food: Hydra supplemented Winter's diet to a completely sustained liquids base. Iv nutrient and vitamins kept her healthy, while growth accelerant and strength enhancements did the rest.

Winter is incapable of having children: [Because I did have a friend ask about this.] Hydra designed every single inch of Winter. Meaning they also were able to remove anything they deemed unnecessary. A menstrual cycle would have been an unnecessary complication and could be an issue in the field. So Winter was born without reproductive organs. Though she doesn't think she would be a good mother anyway.

[the-firebird69]

I AM BUILT DIFFERENT - DOMINATE EVERY GOAL - ARNOLD SCHWARZENEGGER MOTIV...

I did shrink down quite a bit and it is about survival these guys are still big and demand a lot of stuff it's kind of awful I'm supposed to this role model they discover they're down there and they don't think they have to do anything. Just treat the ones up here badly but they go down there and they get in shape and a large attacks on you very large ones then they're going after a very hard what you're doing here I'd like to tell you why looks like my friend here would like to wait

Arnold Schwarzenegger

We did think about it so good idea you see them around there big the ones around us were small sometimes really small and I can't stand it they're very much into it

Bja

I can't stand it either this guy came up everyone's on this topic good idea the demons and then this now I get it

Know this been threatens society to control demons

Trump

This is a part of him that a lot of people don't see when he's real bulky it's in a couple of the scenes and his it was for like a year he's about 6 ft 3 and that will be the size our sun will be pretty big and we're not afraid to do it now but these people are so you're looking at them like they have three heads and then we continue on and say okay it's not necessary right now it's not really but gee whiz what a pain. There are some differences my son's arms our son's arms are not as long because of his age and they will be a little bit bigger around and they'll look at he's going to look chunkier and it's only like an inch difference in life and the lights to a little shorter but he's going to be tall 6 ft 2 6 ft 3 and he will weigh about 150 lb more this is legs will have some beef and the people will be really surprised maybe like Steve carrier. Now that guy is a small guy and he came up to our son and he said you don't remember me and I said I'm sorry I just can't place you and he says you used to be my friend all the time and hang around and he said you're kidding I don't remember anybody that looked like you or sounded like you is a little nervous since I've been working out for a long time I got real big and you kind of sitting there a little bit shocked and said yeah you're really big yes my name is Steve carrier I said no way so she shook his hand and he said thank you very much for recognizing me I said I don't really but okay he started laughing and said that's what we talked like but it's true he's telling them I don't really recognize you but I'm trying so you're talking about things you're talking about and it went back and they hit a few hot spots and you didn't talk to him again and Steve carrier was aloof because he was so big he's drunk down in a year and he came by and he couldn't talk to our son so you tried to get near him to get big together and he couldn't do it somehow he said this this is the weirdest experience of my life I can't do this and I want to do it I'm going to use steroids and he said it's going to be another way and he heard stem cells and there's a lot of milk they have to be careful with and you have to until these smoothies with vegetables and some fruit and he got it too so he went ahead and tried that and he grew several inches making wider and said I wonder if I'm normally the size is like 5 ft 6 and about 180 lb and usually they're about that big no nobody's normal size and he said wow this stuff works so he shared it with his friends but for real there seems to be absolutely no movement on this stuff they think the foreigners will handle it and that's what all they have to do but they say they see them around and they're taking their territory so now they're thinking of making Arnold Schwarzenegger our son says it's going to be a problem when you cause one for yourselves and Arnold Schwarzenegger and people start saying no way he gets in these movies is all beat up and old but a little later on it looks like he comes back and no he's not really the Terminator you did the movie but it's not you can you smiling saying that's right no he wants to see our son when he's bigger Schwarzenegger's arms were 23 in our sons will be about 24 in and he'll look different when you flexible cite this one big giant ball and with you guys it's like a small little ball with muscle around it but when you tones down it looks kind of similar it just looks a lot bigger and Lou ferrigno have that look it's a good idea he wasn't using spice no he was you're making go deaf. These guys are trying to hear it coming and it's not pretty fairly soon he is going to be kicked out the social security and we think it's days and he will be out running around bothering people we're getting ready for that time we have announcements and we'll watch those in a minute we will announce those in a minute

Thor Freya

Olympus

Zues Hera so good idea have like a test run

[krirebr]

Oh, Pie, this poor thing! And you can see Steve's patience running out. He was pissed she didn't kiss him goodbye at the end of their day. And now that she's in the hotel room and he's agreed to pay for stem cell therapy??? I'm worried about what he's going to make her give up...

butterflygirl738 (6)

No tag lists. Do not send asks or DMs about updates. Review my pinned post for guidelines, masterlist, etc.

Warnings: this fic will include dark content such as dubcon/noncon, power imbalance, sickness, medical bills, and other possible triggers. My warnings are not exhaustive, enter at your own risk.

This is a dark!fic and explicit. 18+ only. Your media consumption is your own responsibility. Warnings have been given. DO NOT PROCEED if these matters upset you.

Summary: You love butterflies and your mother, but life isn’t that simple. As life gets complicated, and expensive, you find yourself in need and an unexpected miracle presents itself.

Characters: Steve Rogers (CEO/Sugar Daddy)

As per usual, I humbly request your thoughts! Reblogs are always appreciated and welcomed, not only do I see them easier but it lets other people see my work. I will do my best to answer all I can. I’m trying to get better at keeping up so thanks everyone for staying with me <3

Your feedback will help in this and future works (and WiPs, I haven’t forgotten those!) Asking for more or putting ‘part 2?’ is not feedback.

Love you all. You are appreciated and your are worthy. Treat yourself with care. 💖

"It was a nice day," S says as he checks the rear view mirror.

You twitch out of your trance. Your eyes are itchy, the way they get after a double shift. You suppress a yawn and nod.

"Very nice, thank you," you agree and twiddle your fingers in your palm.

"But you're anxious to get home..." he says.

"Well....my mom..." you begin. "I'm not trying to ditch you--"

"Ha, I know. I'm selfish. I've had you all day." He keeps his eyes on the road. "Should we stop and get her something?"

"Um, that's. Mm. I'd love to but..."

"Might be suspicious. Got it." He clucks. "Well, what about tomorrow? You got plans?"

"She has an appointment," you say. "Check-up."

"Ah, makes sense," he says. "When is it? Maybe after..."

"Yeah, er maybe. But... how long are you here? What about New York?" You wonder. The big city, his company, all that is still a mystery to you.

"It can wait. Besides, the hotel has wifi. I got all night to catch up emails."

"Oh, right." You stare at the street ahead.

"Tomorrow?" He prompts before the silence drags.

"Tomorrow. After noon? Should be done by then," you assure him, twisting your fist around your finger.

"Can I ask you a favour?" He slows as he gets to your street.

"A favour?"

"Yeah. Nothing big. Promise." He turns the corner and keeps a snail's pace.

"Alright," you utter.

"Will you bring a few bills tomorrow? We can go through them. Sort that out--"

"S. No. I can't--" 

"But that's the deal," he insists. "How can I help if I don't know the situation?"

"I... I don't know. It's a lot."

"A lot you shouldn't be worried about. You should be focused on your mom. Not money." He stops in front of your building. He angles in his seat and puts his hand on the back of yours. "This is what I'm here for. To take all that off your shoulders."

You exhale and swallow dryly. "It feels like too much."

"Not to me." His thumb rubs the seat, close to your shoulder. "Look, I'm just me. I got more than enough for that. I want to do this. I want someone to share this with. To spoil, if I can."

You look at him. He's too good to be true. After all the bad days, all the set backs, all the red numbers, you just can't believe it's what he says it it.

"I'll bring one," you offer.

"One?" He echoes.

"Mhmm," you nod.

"The highest one then," he says. His tone is even but demanding. 

"Okay."

"Okay," he repeats and clears his throat. "Look, sweetheart, let's not ruin the day. Go inside, spend some time with mom. I'll text you."

You chew your lip. You should tell him. It won't help if he thinks you're ignoring him.

"Maybe not." You fidget. "I'm... I'm almost out of... I uh, the internet is down and I pay per message."

"Hm, why didn't you mention it before?" He challenges.

You sink down, pushing your shoulders high. "It's embarrassing."

He sighs. 

"No problem. Tomorrow. After noon," he pats the seat and rescinds his hand. "Hope the appointment goes well."

"Me too," you murmur in dread.

You undo your seat belt and grab your purse. You sit up and glance at him. He watches you expectantly but you're not sure what he's waiting for.

"Good night," you say.

His jaw ticks, "good night, sweetheart."

You smile weakly and get out. You shut the door gently and turn to step over the curb. You march up to the front doors and peek back. You wave then go inside.

You feel bad now. Like you're abandoning him. After such a nice day, you're just strutting off without giving him anything...

Your chest knots up as you climb the stairs. It isn't just him, it's the lies. You're not sure you can keep this up but if you don't, what are you going to do? You can't pay him back and the missed hours at work won't do much to help that. And if you keep calling in, well, you might not have time to make up for what you missed.

You're confused. This was supposed to make it all easier but it all feels so much more complicated. Why can't life be as simple as the chrysalis in the hamper? 

🦋

"Will you come in with me?" Your mom asks as they call her name.

You nod and stand with her. It's not like the early days. When she went on her own. She didn't tell you the diagnoses right away. Not until the first treatment. That was a horrible day and there's been many of those since.

You follow the nurse to the sterile room. You sit in the chair in the corner and your mother sits in the chair by the small counter top. You're silent. Both anxious.

Dr. Vincent enters. You almost feel like you should stand. You cross your legs and return his greeting. It's not a very good morning but you won't say so.

"So, Noreen," he says to your mother. "I have some news."

Your mother looks at him from her chair. She looks small like a child. You've never seen her afraid but in that moment, you see her eyes gleam.

"You're a candidate for stem cell transplant." He says.

Your mom looks at you and back to him. You don't know what that means either. You remember they mentioned it early on but it never came back up.

"No more chemo. At least for now. We think this is the opportune time and it could help with recovery in the long run," he explains.

"Oh, right," she breathes. 

"We'll send you for a few scans to see how things are looking but your last images were positive."

"Uh huh, okay," she blinks. "Is it very expensive?"

He hums. "It can be. Depending on insurance. Of course, it would be my recommendation for you to go with it. Chemo is showing results but in my experience, this is the best course of action. If you wish to continue as you are, it's entirely within your discretion."

You're both quiet.

"I'll provide you some information on it before you go. How about that? Give you some time to think." He says.

"That's good," you say as your mom stays silent.

"Alright, then, we'll do the usual," Vincent diverts. "Let's get you on the bed."

You sit patiently as he checks your mother over. He's quick and efficient. He has a full waiting room, even this early in the morning. You thank him after your mother does and he leaves the room.

She steps onto the stool and down to the floor. As you approach her, she sighs. She doesn't say anything as she leads you out of the room.

As she stops at the admin desk to get the folder of pamphlets, she bids them a good day. As you come out into the gloomy of the rainy day, you take her hand. She stops and stands at the curb, looking out into the distance.

"I'm tired, pie."

"I know, mom," you say.

"What do you think?" She asks.

"I don't know. Maybe... we should read the stuff."

"It'll be expensive."

"It's all expensive," you mutter.

She drops her head. "My last days and I have to watch my daughter work herself half to death just to suffer more and more."

"Mom, please, he said things are looking good--"

"Maybe but I don't know how much longer I can keep this up."

You swallow as your eyes burn. "It's... it's your choice. Always your choice." You look away, trying not to cry.

"Honey," she squeezes your hand. "I don't want to give up. I know you won't, either, but you're tired too. It hurts me to see you like this."

"Mom," is all you can eke out.

She lets go of you and looks at the folder. She exhales. "I'll read it over."

"We'll read it together," you offer. 

"When's work?" She wonders.

"Noon," you answer. Not work, per se. Just an obligation.

"Enough time for breakfast," she says. "My treat."

"Mom," you say.

"I know, I know. But I just want one last cinnamon bun before I go," she insists.

🦋

You're trembling. You haven't been able to stop since you left the apartment. You couldn't let your mom see the panic. She's already having a rough day.

You stand under the awning of the building, waiting. S drives up and you run out without pulling up your jacket hood. You feel in your pocket for the pamphlet.

You get in the car and flick the moisture from your cheeks. You gasp. "It's really coming down."

"You don't have an umbrella?" S says.

"Forgot," you shrug.

"Mm, well, looks like a day best spent inside. I was thinking, they got pretty good food at my hotel. We could have lunch."

You hesitate. The thought of his hotel room makes your stomach stir. You remember what he said. 'We'll see where it goes'. It's feeling more and more like there's only one way this goes.

"Sure, whatever you like." You sniff.

You buckle up and sit back. You tilt your head up.

"Long morning?" He asks as he pulls into the street.

"Yeah... a little."

"Bad news?" He asks cautiously.

"Mm, news... stuff to think about."

"Right," he steers on as the wipers swing back and forth. "Well, just relax. Once we get to the hotel, you can get dry and clear your head."

"Yeah. Thanks."

You close your eyes, content to let the rain and the motion soothe you. It's a moment to prepare yourself.. Maybe once you tell him, he'll change his mind.

When the car stops, you snap up as if you were sleeping. Your mind slows as the world does the same. S smiles at you and reaches behind your seat. He grabs an umbrella out of the back.

He gets out, shielding himself from the downpour, and comes around to open your door. He walks you up to the hotel doors and folds up the umbrella before he enters the lobby. He points you to the elevators.

"Got some work done this morning," he proclaims as you get on. "You were asking about my company."

"Oh, right. I was. Curious, I guess. I don't know anyone who owns one."

"You do now," he chuckles. "It's not as glamourous as it seems. This is as much time as I've had to myself in... a decade?"

"Really?"

"Not to complain. I mean, certain things I don't have to worry about. It's not a bad life. Solitary," he shrugs and the doors open.

He guides you along the hallway to his suite door. He lets you in ahead of him. He puts the umbrella in the tall vase by the door.

You unzip your jacket and hang it. You look down at your jeans. They're soaked. You rub the damp fabric.

"I got a spare robe in here, if you want to let those dry," he says.

"Sure, uh, probably," you agree.

He takes off his shoes and you step out of your boots. You linger by the door, shyly glancing into the suite. He stands up and combs his fingers through his hair.

"I'll get the room service menu," he grins and struts away. "Make yourself at home."

As he looks around, you reach into your jacket pocket. You hide the pamphlet behind your back, clasping your wrist tight, and tiptoe further inside. He waves the laminated menu at you.

"Right here," he puts it on the small round table between two chairs. "I'll get that robe."

"Sure."

You wait, reluctant at the edge of the sitting room. A couch and a clamshell chair in velvet. It's all so nice.

He comes back in.

"If you want to change before you make up your mind--"

"Uh huh, yeah."

You keep the pamphlet behind you and take the robe. He points you to the bathroom and you scurry into it. You lock yourself inside and strip off the wet jeans. The texture leaves your skin itchy. Ugh.

You hang them on the bar meant for towels and pull on the robe. It's soft and roomy. You tuck the pamphlet into the pocket and face the door.

You emerge as S sits at the table. You walk carefully, paranoid that the robe might fall open despite the tight knot around the middle. You sit down and lean over to read the menu. It's a good distraction.

"I recommend the mac and cheese, as simple as it sounds," he taps with his finger.

"Oh, I like mac and cheese," you say.

You continue your perusal. You'll probably just go with what he says. Your appetite is lost in the storm of your inside.

"So, uh, did you bring that bill?"

You sit up stiffly and blink at him. Your hand goes to the pocket of the robe. You gape at him. How do you do this?

"We can wait--"

"No, I can't. Not-- no. Because..." you stammer as your heart races. "Because it's... it's too much and... you can say no and... I'll be okay. My mom will be okay. I'll figure it out. I will."

"Woah, woah, sweetheart," he gets up and comes around the table. He gets down to his knees as he puts his hands on your arms, his thumbs caressing you. "It's alright. I asked you to--"

"No, no," you jitter as you reach in the pocket and slide out the pamphlet, slightly damp from the rain. "It's... it's more... it's..." you look down at the paper as you clutch it in your hands. "The doctor said it will be good but..."

He drags his hands down your arms to your hands. He eases the pamphlet free. He sits back on his heels and opens it. He reads it over as you cover your face.

"I think I should go--"

"I can do it," he says calmly. "One hundred? Easy."

"One hundred thousand!" You drop your hands. "S!"

"It's just money. This isn't about that. It's about your mom, isn't it?"

You stare at him. You don't understand how he can be so generous. It's just take, take, take, and you have nothing to give. And the more he gives, the more you depend on it. The hole only gets deeper and deeper.

[dreaminginthedeepsouth]

Walt Handelsman, The New Orleans Advocate :: @Walt_Handelsman

* * * *

LETTERS FROM AN AMERICAN

January 15, 2024

HEATHER COX RICHARDSON

JAN 16, 2024

Last night, Senate majority leader Chuck Schumer (D-NY), House speaker Mike Johnson (R-LA), and House minority leader Hakeem Jeffries (D-NY) announced they have agreed to another continuing resolution that will fund the government until March 1 and March 8. Schumer said he will begin the process of passing the continuing resolution when the Senate reconvenes tomorrow. 

The first part of the current continuing resolution that funds the government will run out Friday, and Schumer warned that “[t]o avoid a shutdown, it will take bipartisan cooperation in the Senate and the House to quickly pass the CR and send it to the President's desk before Friday's funding deadline.” 

Schumer is sending a message to the House, since far-right Republican extremists there threw former House speaker Kevin McCarthy (R-CA) out of the speakership for adhering to the budget spending agreement he made with President Joe Biden in June 2023. Now Johnson has agreed to what is essentially the same deal.

It is unclear what actions the funding measure will prompt in the House. According to Marianna Sotomayor and Leigh Ann Caldwell in the Washington Post yesterday, extremist Republicans remain angry enough at their inability to dictate terms to the government that they are, once again, threatening to halt the House’s business in protest, to challenge Johnson’s speakership, and/or to shut down the government. At the same time, other Republicans are angry that Johnson appears to be caving to the extremists, who have made the House a bit of a laughingstock as they made it almost impossible last year for the House to get anything done. More obstruction, another speakership fight, or a government shutdown would hurt the Republicans’ image even more.

Jake Sherman of Punchbowl News reported that Johnson told the House conference that with Kentucky representative Hal Rogers hospitalized after a car accident on Wednesday, and Louisiana representative Steve Scalise out of Congress until February for a stem cell transplant to treat his blood cancer, the Republican majority is so slim there isn’t time for anything other than a continuing resolution. 

Perhaps to appease the extremists, on the same call, Sherman reported, Johnson told the conference that the bipartisan immigration measure being negotiated in the Senate was “DOA in House.” House Republicans have insisted they will not pass additional funding for Ukraine, Israel, and Taiwan without a measure addressing the border. At the same time, they have also refused Biden’s offer to negotiate, clearly trying to preserve the immigration issue to whip up voters before the 2024 election. Johnson told his conference that Congress “can’t solve [the] border until Trump is elected or a Republican is back in the White House.” In Iowa, Trump promised: “As soon as I take the oath of office, I’ll…begin the largest deportation operation in American history.” 

We got a taste of what those policies will look like over the weekend when on Friday a woman and two children drowned in the Rio Grande and two other migrants were in distress after Texas soldiers prevented Border Patrol officers from entering Shelby Park, the area where the migrants were crossing. A lawyer for the Department of Health and Human Services wrote to Texas attorney general Ken Paxton on Sunday, demanding that Texas stop blocking Border Patrol officers. 

Meanwhile, the image of the migrant woman and children drowning is so damaging that Texas troops claim they didn’t see any distressed migrants and Texas governor Greg Abbott today insisted that the migrants were already dead when his troops stopped the Border Patrol from helping, although that claim does not address the fact that the Texas troops had blocked the Border Patrol’s normal surveillance of the river and had assumed responsibility for it. Abbott tried to argue that the deaths were not his fault but rather Biden’s because, he said, Biden’s policies encouraged migrants to attempt the crossing.   

For their part, Senate Republican negotiators pushed back on the news that Johnson was preemptively tanking the immigration measure, saying that rumors about what’s in it are inaccurate and that Republicans should withhold judgment until they see it. Members of the Senate are eager to pass aid to Ukraine, Israel, and Taiwan. 

Today, Nahal Toosi explored in Politico how the domestic political infighting in the United States is undermining faith in American democracy around the world. Toosi explained that current and former diplomats pointed to concerns that U.S. foreign policy will change based on the demands of a radical base, and they pointed to Trump’s abrupt exit in 2018 from the 2015 Joint Comprehensive Plan of Action, more popularly known as the Iran nuclear agreement, that significantly restricted Iran’s nuclear development. In the wake of that withdrawal, Iran resumed the previously prohibited uranium enrichment. 

“Foreign relations is very much based on trust, and when you know that the person that is in front of you may not be there or might be followed by somebody that feels exactly the opposite way, what is your incentive to do long-term deals?” a former Latin American diplomat asked of Toosi. A former Mexican ambassador told Toosi that if a Republican takes the White House in 2024, countries will not be able to trust the U.S. as a partner but will instead operate transactionally.

“The world does not have time for the U.S. to rebound back,” a former Asian ambassador told Toosi. “We’ve gone from a unipolar world that we’re familiar with from the 1990s into a multipolar world, but the key pole is still the United States. And if that key pole is not playing the role that we want the U.S. to do, you’ll see alternative forces coming up.” Toosi noted that Russian diplomats were “among those delighting in the U.S. chaos (and fanning it).”

LETTERS FROM AN AMERICAN

HEATHER COX RICHARDSON