#tho i don’t have the full contingent yet

[iphoenixrising]

For 700 Followers!

Hi babe. Ah, you know, I think we could really work something out because if there’s anything I like, it’s Tim trying to have the I am an island attitude with clingy, needy Bat Alphas right on his tail ;) Tbh, I wrote this once and it got lost, so I cried, but I’m going to give it another shot!

Also, just saying but there was also a short thing done about *ahem* toys in this au, and you’ll probably find a similar theme X

**

There is nothing worse than water in your fucking boots.

Seriously.

His impromptu dip in the harbor was completely worth the pain in the ass because Two-Face is going to live to see another day, and he even acted less crazy than normal when he was handcuffed by GCPD, quiet while he was taken away in the back of a squad car.

The best part? The villain told him he was glad he hadn’t filled him full of holes after all. Red Robin is going to take that as a win.

And since his sleuthing is done for the night, he can go back to his Perch in Gotham City and get out of these wet clothes and put his damn boots by a heating vent to dry out a little.

He feels good enough about the night to order a pizza and do his notes while a slice is hanging out of his mouth when dry clothes are a thing.

He has a fan turning lazily, trying to keep himself cooled down because the Heat symptoms just started to manifest while he was riding back from the take-down (all that wind rushing by while he’s in a wet suit and still he’s starting to get hot? Seriously, body, stop making shit harder on him).

The pre-Heat could take up to three hours before the main event starts, and he at least wants to get the notes done and go blackout before it happens.

He’s got a bunch of Gatorade and power bars from two weeks ago when Jay and Dick pretty much showed up just in time for him to go full blown. Luckily, Dick had picked up more on the way to his Perch since the God-forsaken sixth sense had struck again. Somehow, maybe some Pack Alpha instinct, Dick had known he was going to need them, and true to form, the last Heat had been particularly vicious, his body in physical pain when he was empty.

(And no, he doesn’t need a reminder how nice Dick and Jay were about it when he was literally fucking crying. Geeze, things he doesn’t need people to see for 100 Alex.)

Which means he should have been good for a month and a half, but Leslie had warned him going this long on suppressants would have some effects on him biologically. She’d mentioned he could have two Heats back-to-back as a sign his body is starting to regulate like any normal Omega. So, really, this pain-in-the-ass is his own fault anyway.

Notes done, he logs out of BI’s mainframe and shoots the Titan’s a quick message, In Gotham. Perfectly safe. Going to sleep for 24-36 hours. Don’t freak out about the blackout mode, and shuts down his main system in preparation.

Barefoot, he pads around to shut off the lights and fans, grabs a Gatorade, starts pulling his nerd shirt off on the way to the bedroom. Security in lockdown and he’s starting to feel the burn just a little bit more.

Not long now. Damn, hopefully this will be fast and furious.

A locked box in the back of the closet is deposited by the bed, his thumb print accepted. He shifts through the unopened packages until he gets the red one and the blue one out, laying them on the bed to open before the round of fuck my contingencies ramps up.

(His face is hot, and not because of the pre-Heat. The two knotting dildos were purchased when he started thinking one night about what he was going to do when his body started regulating out, so Dick and Jay wouldn’t need to play Alphas to his Omega anymore. Ironically, the two toys reminded him of their knots anyway, and he’d been guilty as fuck buying them.)

He’s already started sweating lightly and jumps in the shower to wash off Gotham Harbor.

His phone goes off while he’s drying himself off, shifting his weight because his abdomen is already starting to get tight and uncomfortable in anticipation.

The message on his phone makes him groan/sigh because the Red Hood is wondering:

Jaybird: How was the swim?

There’s more laughing emojis than he realistically needs.

In just boxers, Tim plops down on his bed, taps his phone to decide whether or not to respond. Since they already knew he’d taken down Two-Face, he really doesn’t have options.

Me: nice this time of year. Btw, Harvey didn’t drown. That’s a win for the good guys.

Before he’s done, the ellipsis meaning someone is typing shows up, so he’s got himself in a world of trouble by answering. Natch.

(On the other hand, his Omega whispers, if you hadn’t messaged back, they might come looking for you. It preens at the thought of his Pack Alphas concerned for him, coming for him– Dammit. Not. The. Time.)

Jaybird: Oughta come 2 the Manor. Al made pizza. Can celebrate?

Well, shit.

Me: Thanks 4 the invite. Running time-sensitive diagnostic for the Titans and crashing. See you at the next VA meeting tho.

Okay. So, normal. Jay will understand the need for fighting crime.

Jaybird: No problem. We’ll bring you some.

Fuck. Fuckity-fuck-fuck-fuck-fuck.

Me: Nah. Not tonight. Gonna set this up and crash. The alarm will wake me when the analysis is done. Enjoy the pizza!

Jaybird: If you’re sure?

Me: Positive. Sleep is calling. GN.

And turns off his phone with a sigh of unmitigated relief.

Crisis averted.

Right?

**

Forty-five minutes later, he’s idly eating popcorn and watching Infinity War when a wave of blistering heat washes over him, and the gentle reprieve is finally done.

His cock is hard and aching within a moment, his hands fisting in the blanket under him, hips jerking. The soft, subtle scent of slick tickles the edges of his senses, his ass starting to get moist under his boxers.

But Tim has old memories of doing this alone back when he was still in the tunic, and he forces himself to breath past the initial stages, fists his hands even tighter to keep from touching himself yet. He remembers how much better the orgasm was when he held off for as long as he could, remembers the time between waves lasted longer.

He bites down on his lower lip to keep in the noises (but really, what is the point?) and tries to just keep thinking.

He shoves the unopened boxes over and sprawls out on his back, trying not to let anything other than his boxers touch his aching erection. His thighs tighten, legs spreading automatically, feet bracing to work his hips a little.

It’s fine. You’ve done this before isn’t really that much of a consolation.

With the fire in his body starting to get more and please and Oh God, his mouth falls open to pant, toss his head back and forth with the arousal building, making his belly get tense.

An abrupt cramp knocks the wind out of him ending on a small, helpless noise that inadvertently escapes.

Rolling on his side, curling in on himself, Tim forces himself to just fucking breathe through it, it won’t last forever.

–when the comm on his desk blips, and the tinny voice is just loud enough to get his attention over things like terribly thought-out biology.

(Everything in you is screaming for an Alpha to help, touch, soothe. It’s not really your fault.)

“If you’re asleep, don’t get up. We’re just going to drop off pizza and we’ll be out of your Perch-”

Which is nothing short of fucking horrific.

“Almost goddit, Dickie,” is lost when another sharp cramp makes him huddle further into the pain rippling over his upper body while his brain screams to just fucking move.

The scent of slick gets stronger, clogging up the room, and the door isn’t even locked–

The next cramp makes his muscles flutter, but he can wobbly-leg it to the door and collapse in front of it.

(I was stabbed in the fucking spleen and still saved Pru. Without Ra’s, I would have been dead soon after, but if I can do that, I can get through this.)

He flips a small panel on the door frame and presses his thumb into it, forehead braced on the wall while he grits his teeth and gets a second or two of his muscles easing back.

Tim focuses on breathing, listening, and sure enough, there’s a timid knock a few minutes later. The door knob wiggles once softly, nearly inaudible voices mumble back and forth while he holds his breath.

He thinks he might be in the clear when it goes quiet again, thinking maybe they’d gone to dump the pizza in his fridge and be on their way out.

But a very clear, “do you smell what I smell?” is the proverbial nail in his coffin.

**

“Timmy? Are you…awake?”

“Please go away, I’m…I’m trying to sleep.” Tim tries again, more desperate now that hearing his Alphas’ voices is hitting all the deep places in him where the Omega hides.

“Don’t smell like it, Sweets. Think maybe ya mighta forgot ta mention something ta yer Alphas?”

(You aren’t mine. This is just about fucking Pack dynamics and bullshit biology. It’s fine, he gets it.)

“Hey,” and Dick’s voice is low and loud enough to be heard, and Tim slaps a hand over his mouth so he doesn’t whimper. “It’s okay. It’s us, Tim. We can make it better if you just open the door. You know we can, don’t you.”

It really isn’t a question, and Dick doesn’t pretend to make it one.

His abdomen spasms and he’s rolling his forehead against the wall in denial because fuck, haven’t they done enough? He’s not going to die, and, seriously, he’s a shitty Omega anyway.

“It’s not Heat Mania,” he tries to be reasonable, proud of himself when his voice only cracks once or twice, “I can get through it by myself this time. Y-You two just gave up five days a few weeks ago.”

The hand goes back over his mouth and his boxers are getting wet now, the way he’s curled in on himself probably not helping the situation.

Voices talking too low for him to make out again.

“Seriously, it’s fine. You guys got me out of danger. This? This is just business as usual. B is out of Gotham and you can’t be here for that long–”

“–B called in the Birds of Prey ta help out while he’s out wid’ the League,” Jay breaks through his ramblings. “We got Rob n’ BG. Cass is in fer a visit, and a trio of ass kickers. Ya ain’t gotta worry ‘bout Gotham, Timmers. Shit’s all kinds a handled.”

The door knob wiggles again, making him gasp because shit, if anyone could crack his fingerprint locks, it’s probably the Red Hood.

“So. That’s not an excuse to go through your Heat alone,” Dick cuts in, sounds more ragged and raw, the Pack Alpha coming out in him. “There’s honestly no reason for you to go through it by yourself at all because your Pack is supposed to take care of you. And we are here to do just that, Tim.”

And fuck he does (and doesn’t) want to.

(It really is going to hurt like a motherfucker when it’s all over with, isn’t it?)

And while Tim Drake could give them a hundred different excuses, could explain it away a hundred different ways

(“I don’t want my Omega to get used to having Alphas. That just makes my Heats more difficult. Please understand.”)

–he, Tim, not the Omega, really doesn’t want to.

(Oh yeah. He’s figuratively fucked. Literally fucked to possibly follow.)

He’s already reaching up to thumb at the panel again before he realizes what he’s doing and pauses, sighs at his own weakness.

And like they can feel him hesitate, the heavy musk finally gets to him from under the door. The combination of Dick and Jay and the Alpha instinct to soothe.

“Please, Timmy, Baby. Please let us in.” Dick says to the door, hands braced on the door frame outside, staring a hole right through the damn thing because he really wants to say is please let us love you.

Jay is nudged tightly against his back, peering over his shoulder with those precious few inches of extra height.

“S’all right, Timmers,” Jay’s deep voice rolls past his ear when his second leans over to talk closer, simultaneously sliding a hand over Dick’s hip, finger making soothing circles around the bone. “Ya know we love it when yer all pretty n’ pink fer us, yeah? Heat makin’ ya bite yer lip n’ flutter yer eyes when we get ta touch. N’ ya know how much we like it, don’t cha? Ya know it don’t matter how long it needs ta be, ‘er how much needin’ ya got saved up inside. Ya know the only thing what matters is how perfect ya are under our hands n’ mouth, yeah?”

Dick smirks at the tactic, turning just enough to get close to Jay’s face and shove their mouths together in a quick kiss.

His mate and second just grins right back, his down ‘n dirty one.

“Wadda ya say, Sweets? Gonna have mercy on these two ole’ Alphas? Let us be good, n’ take care a’ ya like we oughta?”

There’s a low noise, something muffled by the door, but Dick’s muscles tighten against the front of Jay’s body, putting the other Alpha right on point.

“Sounds like–” pain.

Jay just nods, staring intently at the door, fingers tapping over the hilt of this .45 like he’s thinking of taking the easy way inside. “Starting up awful fast, ain’t he, Alpha?”

“Leslie said something about double Heats while his body is getting back under control,” Dick reminds him absently. “I’m hoping this is the only one he’s experienced so far.”

Jay hums a little, “you n’ me both. Don’t like ‘im hittin’ two ina month. Too much strain.”

“Agreed, but we–” and Dick gets cut off by the sudden, powerful scent hitting them right in the instincts. The Alpha in them knows what a spike that sudden means.

Dick turns to make one last plea to the door, please, Baby, you don’t have to do this alone, before they would have to go. If Tim was that adamant, they wouldn’t hack the door to get to him, to force him to accept them during his Heat, but if he caught their scents, it could make the cycle more painful (“The inner Omega will pine for an Alpha. Scents will not help, but make the [sic] situation worse. An Alpha should vacate the premises if an Omega in Heat does not belong to him or her”). To keep it from being so much worse, they’d have no choice but the leave.

The possibility sticks in Dick’s throat, makes Jay rumble out a low whine.

But the telltale click resounds, kills the words in Dick’s mouth before they get out.

It’s a breath when he and Jay step over the threshold, kneel by the (their) pained Omega, warm hands and soothing touches, purring a low reverberation that makes Tim’s spine uncurl when Dick gathers him up and lifts. Jay is back with more Gatorade and power bars, throwing off his jacket and holsters while Dick kicks off his shoes and straddles Tim on the bed, leans closer to start kneading out the muscle spasms and nuzzling against Tim’s throat gently, soothingly.

“Ssshh, sshh, it okay Timmy. We’re here.” And Dick tilts his head just a little so his throat is visible and his scent gland right there if Tim wanted to give him and bury his face there.

(He totally does. Stupid fucking instincts.)

And Dick’s hands are warm, the pressure just enough to work out those muscles, to make the pain ease down. At one point, Tim had wrapped a hand around Dick’s forearm to have something grounding.

“You don’t have to do this,” is low and soft, “it isn’t going to be bad this time. Just a normal Heat. I can handle it. I have handled it.”

Jay takes a knee beside the bed, reaches over to direct Tim’s gaze with a forefinger under his chin. “Timmers,” is more stern than he’s used to hearing from the Red Hood, “like me n’ Dickie dunno how much ya can handle? Like we dunno how much ass ya can kick? C’mon, give us a little credit, yeah?”

Tim’s eyes get more dazed with all the stimulus hitting him right in the Omega instincts, blinking hazily at Jay kneeling there. “Seriously, I’m a shitty Omega, and neither of you need this. It’s bad enough you gave up a week already this month.”

“I told you,” Dick counters serenely, hands pausing, “that you are not a bad Omega. I would have thought during your last Heat you would have gotten that.”

They can both see Tim swallow, his eyes dart away, clearly disbelieving but not calling them on their bullshit.

Dick’s inner Alpha curls around his insides, wanting nothing more than to flop on the pretty Omega and pin him down until he cries uncle and finally believes in them, wants nothing more than to stick his nose in the sweet scent gland and never move, wants to hear Tim say it, just once–

“I’m yours, aren’t I Alpha?”

–but there’s no room for that yet. Not here, not now. Someday soon when Tim stopped giving into his instincts to hide and protect himself. Even if the Omega in him had accepted their Alphas, it still drew back, remembered the pain they both caused at one time or another.

And Dick understood. As Pack Alpha, he can scent more keenly, as a detective, he can put all the evidence together with the spikes of adrenaline, the quickening of a pulse, the flinch when certain things are brought up in casual conversation.

(Someday, he thinks fiercely, nuzzling into Tim’s jugular, while the knots under his hands ease down, you are going to forgive us, and everything is going to finally be okay.)

He huffs a little when Jay kneels by the bed, hands folded to rest his chin and watch. Timmy’s head flops over, the lines around his eyes still prominent with pain and the ingrained struggle not to just give in, and Jay trails his fingers lightly over the hand fisted in the sheets.

“Hey, hey. S’all right now, ain’t it, Baby?” He keeps it low and deep, lets it end on a nice purr. Inching the hand over, closer to his mouth, “an’ ta think, y’ weren’t gonna let me n’ Dickie here fer this? Tryin’ ta punish us, are ya?”

“Wh-What?! What are you even–”

Dick’s hand on his shoulder stops Baby Bird from sitting up, his cheeks gettin’ pink ‘cause he get all embarrassed ‘bout it.

(And fuck ain’t it cute.)

Big Wing smirks a little and leans up, gives Jay some room. He takes all he can, rising up on his knees, turning his jaw a little so his musk is stronger, getting fuller.  He gets to wrap a palm around that wrist, pinning it lightly when he hovers over Tim’s wide eyes, makes him face this, face him, face them.

“Ya already know it, don’t cha, Timmy?” Low and growly against his mouth, flick of a tongue over his bottom lip, “how much ya make us want, yeah?”

And since Jason Todd is a man what knows how Tim reacts to being touched, how he gets so sweetly slick and ready, how needy and soft he can whine, knows that as much as Timmy says he don’t need this, need them, his body don’t agree with it.

It’s how he n’ Dickie can tell when Timmy is lyin’ ‘cause it’s the Omega what tells them the truth.

It’s why Jay can purr and nuzzle, can lean in and take his mouth like he owns it. When Tim makes a noise, arches his back, Jay knows Dick is mouthing at him, right below where his palms are rubbing, licking the line between boxers and skin.

Pullin’ back just makes Timmy chase his mouth, eyes half-mast and cheeks just the right shade of pink.

“See that, Sweetheart? How pretty y’ are? An’ ya weren’t gonna let us be here fer it? ‘M hurt over here.” And he purrs against the tendon in Tim’s neck, just the sharp edge of teeth teasing down to his collarbone.

“Th-that’s not–!”

“But it is, Timmy,” Dick fills in soothingly, mouthing at the waistband of his boxers. “You weren’t going to let us have this.”

“Dammit that isn’t–”

“Sshh,” and Jay presses a kiss back to his throat, right below the scent gland, “s’all right. We f’give ya, Sweets. ‘Cause we’re here now, and that’s what matters, you feel me?”

Tim finds it in him to brace a hand against Jay’s shoulder, pushing him back just enough to be able to think around the heat pooling in his stomach, lighting his body with need.

“It isn’t like that!” He tries, he really does, stares into those eyes with green flecks faded away. “It–this–it’s just!”

Dick finally seems to have enough, knee walking up so he and Jay could loom over the squirming Omega, both of them facing him down.

“At first, it was because of the Heat Mania, Timmy,” Dick’s voice is low and firm, “but it stopped being about that for me in the first five minutes.”

Jay purrs at him softly, “like I’d keep comin’ back ta ya if’n it was only ‘cause a’ biology, Timmers. Like you think I don’t see this fine as fuck ‘Mega right ‘chere needin’ an Alpha? Like I don’t want a piece a’ ya?”

That is...so not what he anticipated tonight once he’d given the Alphas an appropriate out. The admission makes his heart thump painfully in his chest, a jolt of fear slithering through his brain pan at all the implications of this–

–that would fully set in later on after his body stops trying to literally kill him with sex.

Because it’s enough of a push, this moment when scents are so fucking sincere and they’re looking at him with heat and affection, and he wants so desperately to believe. It’s enough to make the Omega in him rear up past his barriers and bullshit masks, for the whine, the call to his Pack, to his Alphas, to spill out of his mouth without holding back.

Fuck.

Because even though it’s a rough, soft sound, something he’d never been able to let himself do before now, not with all the secrets he’d had to keep, it makes some of the tightness in his chest ease down to finally be able to let it out, let his instincts take over.

In the form of a whine, a call to his Alphas. His Omega could finally stop mourning being left out of the Pack.

So he’s completely unprepared for Dick and Jay to react so distinctly to that noise, for them to bury their faces in his throat and lick along both sides until the kiss of teeth along his collar bone becomes a bloom of pain and sinks deep into his subconscious. It’s not (and he gasps in a hard breath just thinking about it, about either of them biting down on the back of his neck instead…) to mate him or make him submit, it’s just marks made to show ownership, to show Pack, and his eyes might get a little hot and full with it while the Omega in him rolls over to show its’ belly to the (his) Alphas.  

And it’s something he’s been wanting for so long, the confirmation that he’s no longer the outcast, the Omega without a place. During the long road to come back to Gotham, back to the Bats, he hasn’t let himself sink into the depression that hit back when his tunic was yanked out from under him, leaving him hanging.

With the indents of teeth along his collarbone, with the distinct Alpha scent on his neck, the assurance he’s been claimed as their Pack Omega for anyone to see, is enough to make him close his eyes tight to keep from fucking crying. Instead, he distracts himself by lifting both arms around his Alphas to hold on while they lick across the indents of their teeth, soothing the sting.

He doesn’t let himself panic when they move on from marking him, when Jay is licking into his mouth and Dick’s hands are spreading his thigh, long-fingered hand cupping his straining erection.

He keens with it, back arching at the onslaught, his inner Omega sated with the marks on his body, languishing in the attention of his Alphas.

It’s so easy to fall under their spell, to put himself in their hands, and just give in. If they weren’t so damn careful and easy with him when he needs it that way, if they didn’t fuck him dirty and rough when it needed it that way instead, if they didn’t purr against his chest and lick at the marks, if they didn’t talk low against the back of his neck, if they didn’t hold the hell on when all he wanted to do is run.

Hands that know how to make him writhe, are busy smoothing up the sides of his thighs and over his abdomen, Jay and Dick trading places with his mouth. Thumbs make small circles on his nipples, makes them peak, makes the spark of pleasure shoot down his spine straight to his aching cock, while he keens in Dick's mouth.

“Uh-oh,” hazily gets through the heat pooling in his belly, in his blood, lighting his nerves on fire. “Looks like we have some competition, Jaybird.”

Fuck.

And Dick is leaning up on his knees, holding up the blue knotting dildo after he’d snatched it from the blankets, looking it over with a critically assessing expression–

Then those eyes slide over to the Omega spread out on the bed beneath them, the one smelling like a bakery, the one that needed him, needed them to take care of him.

“I told you, I can handle my Heats.” His face is going red and not because of the whole lot of naked happening beside the bed where Jay is stripping off the body suit.

“Mmhm,” and Dick widens his knees, spreading Baby Bird’s legs wider, puts the toy by his calf so he can be the one to use it on Timmy (and he is very interested on seeing how much of it his Omega can take before he’s screaming for the real deal).

The other Alpha’s eyes shoot to the subtly covered splash of red almost by the wall, and one brow quirks up as a side to the smirk on Jason Todd’s face.

“Dickie. Ya’ thinking what I’m thinking?”

“If it’s to fuck him with these things until he cries, then yes. I’m on board with that plan, Little Wing.”

“Good t’ see we’re on’a same page, you feel me here?”

The oldest vigilantes exchange a heated glance, the message clear from that look alone:

Time to teach Timmy a lesson and get to have him at the Same. Damn. Time.

Two Robins with one stone.

Jay is already crawling over Tim to lay on the other side while Dick moves fast, climbing off to shimmy out of his clothes until he’s in black briefs, coming right back to the perfect spot between the third Robin’s clenched thighs. He grins, already deciding on a plan, while Jay pins both wrists above their bird’s head, preparing him for the on-coming torture.

And when this cycle is done, when they’ve both had turns teasing him between waves with the toys he’d purchased, fucking him fast and rough or slow and soft until their knots throbbed to be buried in him, when they’ve made Tim give in to them, over and over, made him beg for their cocks, promised to always call next time no matter what.  When he’s so overwork, overstimulated, a trembling, babbling, crying pile of please fuck me before I die.

When they make the lesson stick.

(“Never gonna need ‘em again. Ya gotch us, n’ ya better damn well call b’for ya use it again. Do you feel me, Baby?”

“These are last resort only, Tim. You only get to use these after you’ve called both of us and not because of a case or checking in on Gotham.”

He’d only been stupidly grateful all three of them could fit in his tub at the time, water lapping lazily around him, caught on Jay’s lap with his leg in Dick’s, hands on his ankle and calf under the water. He was dozing and utterly fucking destroyed, which is the only reason he agreed to it in the first place, dammit. They took advantage of fucking him completely out.

(Alphas. Of fucking course.)

But this time, after they’d been so fucking thorough in showing him where his place with them really is, Red Robin can’t help but wonder if it’s more than just a bunch of Alphas taking care of the Pack Omega. If all the sweet things Dick growls in his ear is more than just hormones and Pack Alpha lizard brain. He wonders if Jay’s dirty talk doesn’t stem from some messed up sense of guilt or responsibility from back when they were just, you know, trying to kill one another. Or, Jay was trying to kill him and Red was really just trying not to die.

He wonders if it isn’t just a matter time until his body regulates.

He wonders if they know what they’re doing to him when they act like he’s theirs.

He wonders how far they’re going to go.

(A part of him is terrified to find out.)

[vroenis]

Circa 2009 - 2019

Lede with a picture, righto...

In true style, that’s going to deter the lot, but gotta stay on brand.

To have this discussion, we’re going to need a list. A musical timeline of sorts with the exception of four key events;

2002 Balance 003 (compiled and mixed by Bill Hamel) 2008 Jóhann Jóhannsson, Fordlandia 2009 Telefon Tel Aviv,  Immolate Yourself 22nd January - Charles Cooper dies Tosca, No Hassle Hildur Guðnadóttir, Without Sinking

2010 Jóhann Jóhannsson,  And In The Endless Pause There Came The Sound Of Bees 2011 Bon Iver, self titled 2012 Bat For Lashes, The Haunted Man 2013 13th January - Kentucky Route Zero Act I is first released Andrew Bayer, If It Were You, We'd Never Leave Darkside, Psychic The Haxan Cloak, Excavation 2014 Siavash Amini, Til Human Voices Wake Us 2015 Björk, Vulnicura Siavash Amini, Subsiding Jóhann Jóhannsson, Sicario (original soundtrack)

2016 The 1975, I Like It When You Sleep, For You Are So Beautiful Yet So Unaware Of It 2017 Björk, Utopia Siavash Amini, TAR 2018 9th February - Jóhann Jóhannsson dies 29th June - Bill Hamel dies Andrew Bayer, In My Last Life The 1975, A Brief Inquiry Into Online Relationships Siavash Amini, FORAS Skee Mask, Compro 2019 Siavash Amini, SERUS Apparat, LP5 Telefon Tel Aviv, Dreams Are Not Enough

While I’ve added a precursor of two albums to give context to two of the events that happen in the timeline, it is effectively book-ended by the two most recent albums from Telefon Tel Aviv. These albums form a frame in which so many things have happened - in my life, and seemingly in the lives of others. Some clearly in the events so evident and unavoidable, painfully so and still lingering in the minds and emotions of those they directly affect and us in the periphery who only have the most faintest of contact yet still seem to perceive ourselves significantly touched. By this I mean the death of Charles Cooper - if I feel devastated, having only ever been had an impression of his character via the channel of his art, there isn’t a universe in which I can possibly imagine what Joshua Eustis’ daily experience is, so I can’t and won’t speak to it.

And I guess that’s where the story begins.

In 2009 my best friend who remains so to this day plays me Immolate Yourself for the first time - bearing in mind they and I are slightly different people, probably me more-so than they. Our tastes in music have always been fairly broad. We’ve never been haters of pop-music at all, they’ve always embraced pop more than I but I’ve always appreciated pop. In by brief stint industry-side when I was professionally working, I did form an appreciation for the labour, but in general I still maintain a high appreciation for the craft. In any industry there will always be a valuable critique of culture and bad culture exists everywhere. We must always work to protect the vulnerable at all times, no excuses, and erode imbalances of power.

Back to 2009. The album blows us both away and I’m fairly confident in speaking for us both, changes us forever. We both have immense music libraries having purchased music constantly from young ages, but no matter what we cycle through or have in rotation, Immolate Yourself has always been evergreen. Not to say it’s in daily rotation constantly - it’s not exactly that kind of album. It’s highly emotionally charged and a demanding listen, and sometimes I am listening to it once a day for a given period, but it certainly is highly mood-dependent - more-so than some of the other music in my collection which is completely fine in that not all art has to be hitting at that level.

I remember our conversations about Charles, how shattered we were, our conversations about suicide, mental health - please be aware that at the time, it was rumoured Charles Cooper’s death was due to suicide but later several reports ruled that it wasn’t. That’s that. The purpose of bringing it up is to give context to R and my discussions. Some years prior I had my own mental health diagnosis clarified and had seen some improvements on and off with my personal management, but the rigours of life still presented challenges significant enough to cause extreme frustration, anger and anxiety. I’d say these days, in the year of our Synth Lordz 2020, I’m doing much better and on better medication management and that would still be true.

I don’t go looking for articles or interviews with Joshua Eustis about what his life has been life at all or how things are for him now. I do follow him on twitter and we’ve had a few great, unrelated exchanges. When I bought and had my first listen-through of Dreams Are Not Enough last year, I told him I wanted to delete the rest of my music collection which of-course is hyperbole and he knows that, but as I’ve mentioned elsewhere (this almost always means Instagram), I always want to have these extreme responses to art. It doesn’t have to be all the time, but it has to be at regular intervals, even if they’re separated by long periods of time. Art is so important to me. Sometimes I joke - love you don’t have to work to receive,  but art takes labour. Maybe I’m not joking (typical artist wank :P )

Apparat (Sascha Ring) was one of those artists I never bought back in 2009 but he was always in the playlists, always at the festivals. Maybe he did remixes? Or his music was being remixed. I dug his stuff, it was pretty cool, but back then he was probably in the periphery for me. He, like many for me, faded into the background. Because I follow Joshua/Telefon on Twitter, I randomly see a retweet or an exchange between him and Apparat, probably about software or plugins etc., and think far-out, Apparat’s still around... and he released an album in March (2019). I’m going to go have a bit of a listen and if it’s good HOLY SHIT...

To help me characterise what I hear when I listen to LP5, I’ve included a very important album from Tosca, interestingly released at the beginning of our bookend; No Hassle. I don’t really know what the zeitgeist is on this album, but my completely uninformed instinct is to say it’s not popular. For me, tho, No Hassle is absolutely divine. It’s an astonishing listen because it’s in some ways *unexciting* - it’s a severely sober listen. There’s next to no energy in it at all, even when Richard and Rupert dare to tilt into a major key, they’re still listlessly meandering along as if they got up too late or are still sitting in an old sofa or are just happy enough to be strolling and the conversation is good enough at a moderate level before we head back down as the sun sets and the night swallows everything up. It’s an album I listen to almost exclusively in the car during night drives, or in either my house or in hotels, airports, any other environment but always when it’s dark. Cheesily I call these works “Midnight Albums”, and I tend to characterise them as serious listening, when I’m feeling meditative, pensive, neutral, dead-sticking, however you may wish to describe the sensation.

LP5 is along very similar veins for me and it strikes me as extremely interesting. Sascha didn’t exactly disappear for 10 years, his wiki page lists two other albums in 2011 and 2013 respectively as well as other collaborations and work, but to me, just the sound of this album strikes me as particularly unique to being distinct from the years gone by. That sounds like a redundant statement - that might be true of everything altho with art I often don’t think that’s the case at all, but when I first heard LP5, I thought Sascha - shit’s happened to you. I don’t know what it is, but then I figure...

Shit’s happened to us all.

Anyone well inducted into the Anjunabeats cult (lol it’s a joke, you can laugh - I’m a fellow cultist) of trance will be familiar with Andrew Bayer. A good thing the Anjuna label seems to be doing and more of of late, is funnelling some of their phat stacks of cash to their talent so they can actually record full albums if they wish, a venture which I’m sure isn’t profitable for them in any way unless they go on tour, contingent of-course on the material being shoppable. I’m sure that makes Spencer Brown a darling - not having a go at him, I love both his albums to death, they’re amazing, but I genuinely don’t think there’s any pressure on the artist to produce tourable music. I feel Andrew has the latitude to do whatever he wants, and he works at the shoppable remixes because it’s fun for him and they have a wonderful community of talent in constant contact with one another so the opportunities are there.

In 2013, Andrew Bayer releases his album which upon hearing I instantly buy. It’s a pretty neat departure from all things trance - it’s beaty, synthy, broken samples and pushing at ambient at times. Then I get to the amazing last track titled “Closing Act”. This is 100% without question inspired by and styled after the music of Jóhann Jóhannsson.

On the 9th of February, 2018, Jóhann Jóhannsson dies.

I’ve just come back from stepping away from this writing for about two hours. I appreciate people interact with art, artists, performers and people of varying level of exposure (read: celebrities) in different ways so let’s just bypass any discussion of how other people behave. It’s fine. As for me, I try to maintain what I believe to be a healthy sense of distance from people of cultural note. They’re still people; human beings, and I don’t know them. Actors and musicians had died before, artists I’d “grown up with”, admired etc., but Jóhann‘s death struck me with force. It still haunts me.

Why?

I don’t know him. I never knew him. For all I know, he may have been an arsehole to everyone around him. I had to and still interrogate my emotional response and I very much do it with the greatest of intent. Is it stupendously capitalist? Am I so entrenched in my lust for his music? His product? That is literally all I can say I know of him; what he produced - what he gave, what he offered. Is it because I want more? No - not really. There are artists still alive who have chosen not to offer more and I have no problem accepting this. There are artists who have more to offer and aren’t able to due to the economics of power and the power of economics and I’m certainly angry about that while they’re alive. I grieved for Jóhann. I was so upset. I shut myself in my studio and cried.

In some way, regardless of not knowing anything at all about the circumstances of his death, I felt that we had all failed.

Knowing even in the smallest element that mental health was a contributing factor to his life and death leads me to make assumptions about the kind of world he may have existed in, what his experience may have been. Regardless of whatever differences there might be between his experiences, now finite, and my own, I still believe there is justification to draw parallels. Not because he’s semi-famous, but because we are both humans, and that it is known he struggled with mental health. It is as much about known, documented and shared stories of services, medications and social experiences as it is about everything that is unspoken that all people with mental health concerns know. We may not know to what degree we might have commonalities, but the one thing we may have in common is that there are so many things we cannot share - speak, or expose, and there are things at times we feel we must not expose in order to survive. It is at this point I must emphasise that health professionals will always dispense such advise as “You’re never alone/you never have to carry burdens alone” etcetera etcetera and I value the intention in such actions. I’m here to appreciate the goodwill behind such advice, but purely by nature of existence, we are each of us alone - this is not an emotional fact, this is simply reality. You cannot inhabit our bodies and minds and live our lives for us - nor can you overcome our physiological concerns internally on our behalf. You can offer us medications but it is still we who have to bear the process of evaluating whether we can endure the experience of synthesising them. 

Professionals need to always respect that fact and never forget it.

This is key when I interrogate my emotional response and reaction to Jóhann Jóhannsson‘s death. I don’t know what treatments he may have been receiving but I also don’t know what his life experience was, because treatment in and of itself is less than one half of the equation, perhaps not even a third. The total texture of a human’s experience is woven from so many fibres; and one of them is the cultural response of the people surrounding them, from the immediate individuals to generalised language in use within earshot to advertising unwillingly overheard to adopted via accepted use over time to idioms adopted when people have literally no idea what words mean and what they can mean and how they can directly affect others.

Am I blaming this nebulous spectre of Society? Of-course not. Am I wanting to focus a microscope on the microcosm of communities within this idea of Society or induce guilt on individuals? Also no. But there is still a sensation of endemic guilt and carelessness that we do not make better attempts, perhaps not even to approach a comprehensive understanding of mental health, but at least to triage some of the casual damage we do by being completely careless with it with poor cultural practice. It’s such a difficult thing to speak to because the terms are at one moment so specific and yet the next so generalised. What are we to do? How can we improve when it’s no-one’s fault and yet everyone’s fault? How can we be effective if we want to discard useless, terrible and outdated ideas like blame and backwards accountability and yet we haven’t even begun to understand how the shape of our behaviour is having such devastating effects?

The cost is literally human life.

The interrogation goes further. Why only Jóhann? Why don’t I mourn every death? At the risk of diverting to whataboutism, it’s still worth asking, because it’s clear I valued his life because of his art, and it can’t be avoided that I list Bill Hamel for the same reason. Balance 003 is for me the best collection of minimal trance in history and there has never been another since, the genre has evolved and as yet has not been revisited. Bill himself joined with some friends to work on some more upbeat and detailed music but then himself died in June of 2018, but I wasn’t to find out for months and again, was shattered. I didn’t know Bill either but there were more anecdotal accounts of his personality available online, and they certainly were glowing and positive, and that’s how I think of him - fondly, regardless of not knowing him.

Later in 2018 Andrew Bayer released his next album. It’s a collection of vocal pieces, and the final song is titled End Of All Things. Eerily but welcomed, many of its musical stylings begin to resemble Jóhann Jóhannsson‘s, and Alison May lends her voice to lyrics that include the following;

Roll down the aisle You were bold to go first With a fist to the earth

I don’t like to quote a lot of lyrics, and you can look the rest of them up if you want, but if you do, like me, you might interpret the song to be about death. I don’t know if Andrew Bayer wrote this for Jóhann Jóhannsson, or only for him or at all. He probably wrote it for someone else entirely, probably someone he actually personally knew. Maybe he just wrote it about death in general. It doesn’t matter because for me it was the first catalyst in musical form for processing Jóhann Jóhannsson‘s death in some dimension. It wouldn’t be until much later, when Justin/Telefon Tel Aviv retweeted Siavash Amini that I’d find art as powerful as  Jóhann's and Andrew’s and of-course Justin’s own, but each artist is their own texture and I listen to them all in different ways when in different moods.

2019 - Dreams Are Not Enough

There is so much more writing I can do with this short list of albums. I’m at 2800+ words and I’ve barely scratched the surface. That first, dull image at the top of the piece is the directory structure of my music collection, replicated on the hard-drive that goes into my car and on my personal music player - I don’t use my phone for music. While I do listen to music from every directory over time, of late I’m gravitating more and more to two main folders; Ultimate and Survival, and almost all of the music from the list in this piece comes from those two directories with only one or two exceptions.

I’m a bit miffed I didn’t get to write about The 1975, there’s some great stuff to be said about their work and I’ve written about them before, but I have so much more to say, especially culminating with Love It If We Made It as a generational, cultural proclamation. We’re on the verge of the new album tho (time of writing is 29th February 2020) so who knows, maybe I’ll get the opportunity to be topical with that but knowing me, I’ll still bury it behind a wall of text but that will be for the better, I’m sure.

I need to close on Dreams Are Not Enough, tho, and also Kentucky Route Zero. I think I’ve mentioned it before - completing Kentucky Route Zero was the catalyst for me to start writing again, and it’s there in the timeline that the first act released in January of 2013. Last tumblr entry, I briefly touched on being in a holding pattern until KRZ was completed by its developer, Cardboard Computer, and since completing it, I’ve gone off socials which means I’ve greatly diminished my activity on social media and returned to long-format writing. This entry and the last on tumblr are very much evidence of that. Way back in 2013 when I first completed that first act, Kentucky Route Zero was one of those seminal experiences I felt was made just for me. After years of playing all sorts of traditional video games, I’d grown tired of their play dynamics in many senses. I still liked traditional games, and in some ways still do now, but I will always hunger for boundaries to be pushed, for greater things to be said, for things to be said and done in conjunction and in parallel; in layers and simultaneously; artfully, with complexity and subtlety, or with simplicity but with great humanity and maturity. I remember watching Serial Experiments: Lain, the first episode and feeling like it was made just for me, and then that feeling being amplified a million times over with Haibane Renmei and Texhnolyze. There are reasons these works are so rare and so unpopular. Again - I’ll reaffirm I still love a lot of pop and there’s nothing wrong with generalised and widely celebrated art at all, a lot of it’s cool. But when you find something so unique that speaks so much to your experience in a way that’s powerful to the point of dialect...

That is what Kentucky Route Zero and Porpentine’s Howling Dogs are to me.

That’s what these albums are to me, and Telefon Tel Aviv’s albums somehow have book-ended this period in my life. Each album captures a facet of turbulence, of emotion, probably a little bit of joy, or chaos and a healthy dose of hedonism too, but I have other music for that and I tend not to talk about it much. I’m sure joy and euphoria can be complicated for others and that’s cool, but it’s not something I feel drawn to discuss.

All of this art, this Art Worth Dying For, seems to be the only thing I can engage with at the moment, in the wake of completing Kentucky Route Zero. I have shooty shooty games sitting on the Playstation that I once did really enjoy and probably will again, I don’t know. But right now I can’t bear the thought of booting them up. I think about some of the films I was keen to see some months ago and right now they look like noise, indistinct, boring to the point of textureless, falvourless null-space. I don’t mean to insult these works in any way at all, I’m not trying to diminish their value by saying by comparison to KRZ, they’re bad. Not at all. I don’t seem to be able to process them. The closest thing I can describe is the kind of mood disorders, dysthymia being one of them, doctors used to try and diagnose me with before they knew I was bipolar; a literal chemical barrier that’s preventing me from comprehending and interpreting the data I’m being presented with. I’ve lost hold of the cultural frame I’m supposed to have to understand how to place these objects in reference to my sense of entertainment and engagement.

So instead I come here and talk to myself with barely an objective in mind, other than to perhaps share my thoughts with you. And some music that I’m hoping you’ll buy. I know I’m a pain in the arse for that, and I know buying music is an immensely privileged thing to be able to do - I get it. You don’t have to buy everything right away, but if you want me to make a case for it, let me know and I will, I’ll even make a case for small steps i.e., even when you can’t afford much and how to spend a really tiny amount. Otherwise proceed as normal and click onto the next visual diary, nothing to see here.

[obscurelocalstranger]

The Galaxy's Best Boy Detective (and our precious happy excitable son), Angus. Questions are: 26, 30, 33, 36, and 50.

ANGO MCDANGO MY BEAUTIFUL PRECIOUS BOY

Do they have any plans for the future? Any contingency plans if things don’t workout?

Well he’s fully aware that working for the BoB is a dangerous career path and they’re not even sure what’s going to happen but also I think as a ten (11?) year old he’s got to have like dreams and goals. He wants to be a wizard now and like he’s not gonna be a boy forever so he has to have some cool backups for when he’s just the world’s greatest detective. I’m not entirely sure what his plans might be after all the artifacts are recovered and all that, other than trying to find his granddad’s silverware (lbr tho he probably knows and is just saving up to make a deal with garfield for it)

Reaction to sudden intrapersonal disaster (eg close family member suddenly dies)

I think it would depend on who it is tbh? Like he’s a rational kid so he understands death, I mean he talked about his grandfather was very sick and dying so he’s expecting that. I think if he had work to do he would try his best to keep going and get that done because people are counting on him and then take his own personal time later to be sad about it. And then Idk maybe he’d get angry and want to make it right if it were someone who died in battle or too soon or something. I can imagine him eventually throwing himself full on into the chase of someone if they hurt important people. Bit like Magnus in that respect (he was and is also a good sweet boy).

Concept of home and family?

I can’t recall if he says he had family other than his grandfather before but if that’s the case then assuming his grandfather has passed (and now if he had family their minds have been edited by the voidfish), the bureau crew is kind of all he has now. And it’s certainly not a normal family and it’s weird and broken sometimes but it’s also really nice too and the sirs are very good to him mostly and he gets to do a good job helping people and he’s learning magic and stuff and he doesn’t really want for anything else

What makes them feel guilty?

OH MAN, this good sweet boy, he does feel guilty sometimes that he never got to return the silver to his grandfather. He also feels guilty any time he thinks the sirs are annoyed that he’s there or trying to help them. Like “sorry for disturbing you, but this might be helpful” and he knows it is helpful and they need him but he still is probably a little anxious or whatever about it.

Is this person afraid of dying? Why or why not?

Oh gosh you know idk. As a kid you never think about death like that I don’t think. Death is for other people, for older people. He’s safe and sound in the bureau, he’s the world’s greatest boy detective nothing can touch him. So I mean he’s not afraid of dying quite so much as he doesn’t think it’s an option just yet. I think tho, maybe somewhere in the back of his mind he might be just a little bit afraid that something will happen and either he won’t be able to help anymore or he’ll be all that’s left and that’s probably a little bit terrifying.

[purplespacecats]

Ahh ok good, so assuming I graduate I can get a post-diploma work permit that'll be good for two years, and if I get that /I'll be eligible for Quebec health insurance/ ok thank god Bc in his confirmation hearing Trump's HHS nominee straight up said that his plan would for sure scrap the obamacare requirement that health insurance plans cover mental health care l m a o I mean I also don't know for sure if I'll even be able to /get/ health insurance post-obamacare bc sure trump /said/ he'd keep the thing where you can't be denied coverage because of a preexisting condition, but trump is talking out his ass 99.9% of the time and has no clue how anything actually works so.. And yeah back home obv assuming I'd even still be able to get health insurance that'd be contingent on employment, whereas with this work permit I'd be eligible for coverage as soon as I get the permit even if I haven't found a job yet There's also a 90 day waiting period tho..... And my current coverage is a student plan that's only good til august.... Hhhhh um ok I mean I just need a shrink to write me an rx that'll be enough for 90 days that's nbd, and for everything else I can go to that one super lefty free youth clinic; they're nice and uber feminist and v queer friendly Also I haven't ever made it bc you have to get there at like 7am but there is also a free clinic for people who live or work in my neighborhood. Options! The other down side is that Canadian universal health care doesn't cover prescription meds which is obv super fucked up, but idk I can handle having to deal with private insurers in that limited context, esp because they don't have all the bullshit pre-obamacare restrictions that health insurers in the states are going back to So ok that works, then I'd only be moving back to the states if I get a full time job stateside, so then that'll include health coverage.. Err ok actually who even the fuck knows what the GOP is plotting.... Whatever I can easily stay here for at least two years after graduation

[smartoptionsio]

Signals Thursday #10 – Interview with BITCOIN COMPASS

Somewhere on the world might still be Thursday, so we still publish our Signals Thursday… And end this season for now with a very special interview guest. Bitcoin Compass is one of our listed Discord Signal Groups. They came and they ruled – pretty fast, and far more important: they have proven many times that they are true experts in trading and have a deep knowledge when it comes to crypto projects. Recently, they contributed an article, “The Ripple Mafia“, which went viral.

SMARTOPTIONS.IO: Bitcoin Compass sky-rocketed out of the nowhere and became almost instantly a very popular Telegram channel, providing a great flow of news and information. Tell us about a bit about your team and how y’all have been able to achieve this success that fast.

BITCOIN COMPASS: Hi! We too are really pleased that the channel is gaining traction so quickly. The key to this is the team. Without a doubt. We have people from a range of diverse backgrounds: from finance to marketing, from start-ups to corporates. Research and commitment to quality is at the heart of what we do, and that’s why we are absolutely thrilled to have some of the best traders and analysts in the world. Not only this, but the team’s desire for continuous improvement is genuinely aspiring. And results show for it.

SMARTOPTIONS.IO: When we discussed a guest post on our site, we decided for the Ripple Mafia (link), though you also offered a pretty decent and spot-on logarithmic Bitcoin analysis. I know it’s way too late now, but please leave some words about that.

BITCOIN COMPASS: It’s never too late. The current bear market is far from its end, despite the recent drop that we saw with the price of Bitcoin over the last few months.

Think about it like this. The current price is similar to what we saw in August-September last year. How many experienced investors, do you think, bought Bitcoin during this time? Not many. Believe me, there will be more people abandoning the ship at the next sight of a storm, convinced that the ship is sinking. But sinking, it is not.

The Capitulation phase that is yet to come will provide plenty of opportunities to acquire assets at many low prices.

Have a look at this logarithmic monthly candle chart for Bitcoin.

See how that after breaking from the red channel, there was a strong movement to the downside? We can, of course, test this level once more before reaching the full capitulation. Eventually, however, we’ll test the blue channel and if it also breaks, there is a high chance of reaching $1,000 for a single bitcoin.

After reaching the bottom, our target for 2021 is $100,000 per bitcoin. This is 100-fold more than the price of $1,000. And that’s just in the span of 30 months. This increase is likely to be fueled by both, the rapidly growing interest from investors (institutional and individual) and the 3rd halving of the Bitcoin mining rewards, expected around mid-2020.

It’s really important to note that the upcoming world financial crisis – and yes, it’s coming – will be the very first one for Bitcoin and it can turn out to be ugly when it comes to price. When will this happen? Possibly, after reaching the target of $100,000, possible prior to that. Stay tuned for our updates!

SMARTOPTIONS.IO: Hard times to trade Altcoins.  Many signal channels switched to leveraged trading, tho you still can achieve quite some impressive results on the Alt-side. How do you prepare your Analysis? Do you consider and anticipate BTC moves before posting an Altcoin signal?

BITCOIN COMPASS: We’re certain that the altcoin market has lifeblood in it. Still, we are also testing a leveraged trading service and an automatic API trading system, simply because this is what our audience wants. The demand is there, otherwise we wouldn’t be looking into this space.

And yes, absolutely. Our altcoin analysis is prepared with the potential BTC movements in mind, as the two are tightly linked. We pick our entries very carefully and always – always – have carefully planned stop-loss strategies in place. It’s no secret that contingency planning is crucial for sustainable success.

SMARTOPTIONS.IO: What’s your personal view on the future of Crypto? How do you expect the market to evolve? Altcoin wipe-out? Multi-year bear phase?

BITCOIN COMPASS: If we were skeptics, it wouldn’t make sense for us to do what we do, would it? Each and every single member of the team is a passionate believer in the potential of blockchain to change the world. We all have different takes on it but unconditionally converge on the fact that crypto is the place to be.

There is a general consensus within the team that 2020 will be a huge year for crypto. Debates are still raging about 2019, though…

Regardless, we are getting ready for a multi-year bear market. Potentially as the parabolic 2017, it will need some time to cool down and this is natural. People need to understand that this is a normal market behavior in the cryptocurrency space. And this induces further confidence in the prospects on a speedy recovery.

This will undoubtedly lead to some altcoins being wiped out – but yet again, this is only normal. This happens in all areas of business, and it’s unreasonable to expect crypto act otherwise. The coins that will survive, however, will enjoy immense growth in the long run.

We are on the constant look-out for such projects. They are coins, whose underlying business ideas are likely to make the most meaningful impact. So keep your eyes peeled.

SMARTOPTIONS.IO: How do you make use of this retracement? Which alts do you accumulate and keep as your gems? Do you plan your entries here, or do you do the classic DCA with buying amount x every x days?

BITCOIN COMPASS: During the past retracement, our priority was to keep our capital and the capital of our followers in intact. Ultimately, that’s why we’re posting regular updates on our group, so that people can make more informed decisions. One of the recent ‘gems’ that we shared firstly with premium subscribers and later with free members too was the SRN token/Sirin Labs. We used dollar cost averaging techniques to minimize risks and maximize long-term potential.

We did so by placing buy orders at different price levels, from 1,360 down to 1,150 sats, averaging our way down. This coin then hit 5,678 sats a few weeks after our signal, which meant up to 500% ROI. We believe that averaging down entries is an effective approach and should be used whenever possible.

Bitcoin Technical Analysis by Bitcoin Compass

SMARTOPTIONS.IO: Thank you so much for your time, guys.

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Fact Sheet for BITCOIN COMPASS

Discount Code:  SMARTOPTIONS10OFF (10% off)

Website: Bitcoincompass.io (don't let scammers lead you to TheBitcoinCompass.com - it has nothing to do with this legit guys)

Pre Membership channel: https://discord.gg/v5jWD2F

Telegram: This channel offers their signals also on Telegram, it is included in the subscription price.

Discord Contact: @Flow#1964 (you can also contact them on Telegram if you prefer)

Discount Code: 10% off with SMARTOPTIONS10OFF

Plans & Pricing: $67 per month / $670 per annum paid in BTC (not incl. 10% discount)

Special Features: Personal Consultation Upon Joining, Instant Access to Signals by our Bitcoin Trading Bot on top to the manual signals and market updates, 55 Lessons Trading Course

Further Information: Interview with Bitcoin Compass | Guest Post "The Ripple Mafia"

Auto Trader: coming soon

Exchanges: Markets on Binance / Bitfinex / (Bitmex)

Results Tracking: Tracking Sheet on Google Docs

Signals with TA: Yes, Tradingview charts are attached

Bitmex Signals: Yes, you can use their Bitcoin Trades on Bitmex with caution (not recommended officially)

ICO Reviews / Seed Sale Opportunities: No

Trading Timezones: GMT +1

Chat Rooms: - #free-community-chat (free), - #ta-lounge (free) - #premium-chat-room (premium)

Free Signals Channel: https://discord.gg/gbkGDUw

How the paid crypto signal channel looks like:

Discount Code:  SMARTOPTIONS10OFF (10% off)

TRUSTED SIGNAL PROVIDER

Bitcoin Compass is allowed to use the Trusted Provider Seal

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