#and all i had to bandage it was duct tape and a napkin

[girlwyrm]

im bleeding, im sweating, im crying! and it all goes into FUCKING HAMBURGERS via capitalist magic!

[angelsanarchy]

Alkaline: Euronymous x Y/N Series CH 6

Tagging: @ophelialaufey @madamemaximoff06 @forever-not-gonna-sink @ajmiila02 @liquidsmoothdomme @shady-the-simp @that-one-persons-posts

TW: Self Harm, Blood

Y/n knew that tonight was Mayhem's first show and as much as she wanted to be there for support, she knew she had to work. She had tried to call and wish him good luck but she got the voicemail. Since he lived with the band, she decided against leaving a message and just hoped he would come by and tell her how it went.

When they all piled into the restaurant, face paint half smudged off and louder than normal, Hammed started taking orders as quickly as he could. Y/n couldn't really interact at the moment as she was working the line instead of tables. The amount of drinks she had to uncap hurt her hands but she made sure to stack them all on a tray to be dropped off to them. Once Hammed got tired of taking orders, he switched onto grill and Y/n was able to greet Oystein.

"How did it go?" She asked brightly seeing little bits of his makeup still on the corners of his eyes and mouth.

"It went really well. Wish you could have seen it." He smiled back taking his food.

"Maybe someday." She knew it wasn't her scene but she would tough it out to see Oystein play.

"You didn't stick around for the party. I looked for you but they said you took off pretty early." He looked disappointed.

"I was still on the clock so I couldn't really stick around. I figured you wouldn't even have noticed surrounded by groupies." Y/n tried to keep it light but Oystein screwed up his face.

"Hardly. I don't give a shit about groupies." Y/n felt a slight uptick in her heart but she didn't want him to know it. She took a napkin and leaned over the counter to rub some of the smeared makeup away from his eye.

"I'm definitely going to need a shower at some point." Oystein laughed.

"I'd say so. I can't believe you brought your stench in here with that crew of misfits." Y/n finally noticed Pelle sitting in a chair with his head down.

"Ey he might need some more tape." One of the guys shouted to Oystein.

"Hey do you have any duct tape?" Y/n cocked an eyebrow.

"Um we should. Let me check the back." Oystein nodded and went to sit his food down on the table. When Y/n found the tape, she walked of the door and immediately say Oystein trying to help Pelle pull tape from his bloody wrists.

"Fuck!" Y/n's eyes went wide pushing the swinging bathroom door and seeing what they were doing.

"What the fuck happened and why are you putting fucking duct tape on it?!" Y/n looked at Pelle who was paler than normal.

"It's not as bad as it looks." Oystein said stupidly. Pelle made eye contact with Y/n and she walked back out of the bathroom towards the office. She grabbed the first aid kit and her purse from her locker. When she returned they had gotten all the tape off and she was staring at how scarred his arms were.

"Grab me a chair from the table please." Oystein ran out to grab the chair and Pelle was shaking.

"You don't have to-" Pelle started.

"Listen, I'm not here to judge you. If you want to die or feel or whatever, its your life to have or end but you can't come here and expect me to serve meat sandwiches when you're bleeding out in a booth." Y/n wasn't trying to scold him. She had a brother who battled terrible mental illness so she knew the anguish someone must feel to do this to themselves but she knew Hammed would lose his shit.

Oystein sat the chair down and she pushed Pelle into it. She knelt in front of him and Oystein watched her clean his wounds up, disinfect them and attempt to put bandages on them.

"These are only butterfly band aids but you need fucking stitches, Pelle." Y/n was about to open her second box of band aids.

"Dead....my name is Dead." She clicked her tongue against her teeth annoyed.

"You know, these stage names are starting to piss me off." Y/n looked at Oystein in the mirror. She put a long gauze pad on his wounds before getting up from the floor.

"Take him to get stitches as soon as you can." Y/n said as Pelle walked past her as if she didn't just stitch up his gapping wounds.

"He'll be okay. I'll make sure to get him stitched up." Oystein assure Y/n as she cleaned up the bloody gauze and bandage wrappers. She felt a hand on her back and she tensed.

"Hey...it's fine. He's done much worse than that." Oystein's words made her turn around.

"I can see that but that doesn't mean he's fine. If anything he's furthest from fine Oystein." She felt a weight on her chest like she wanted to cry and he could tell she was upset. He pulled her to his chest and she dodged it as the door swung open again.

It was the guy who was lurking around at the party the other night.

"Hey I wanted to say you guys were very good tonight...at your gig. My name is Christian-"

"Do you see I'm a little busy here?" Oystein snapped. The way he spoke to Oystein gave off much different vibes than she would have thought. She assumed it was a friend but he came off more as a fanboy. He backed out of the bathroom leaving them both standing alone. Y/n quickly scrubbed her hands in the sink wanting to be out of that confined space.

"Y/n.." Oystein reached out again.

"I've got to get back to work." Y/n wiped her face and pushing past him. They continued to cut up and eat for another 20 minutes before they finally left. Y/n felt so tense and uneasy, all she wanted to do was scream.

[fancat-not-fangirl]

From the Land of the Ice and Snow (Pt.2)

a/n: this chapter will actually have some hurt!Dean in it

()()()()()

Sam closed his eyes and waited for the impact. It came, but not as forcefully as he expected. In fact, it came from his side, sending him sprawling on the snowy ground. He braced himself and waited for the pain in his chest to come. He'd been shot before, and every single time it hurt like a son of a bitch. Only, the pain didn't come. Not this time. Instead, there was a loud string of curses released by the men, and a grunt of pain that sounded oh so familiar to Sam. His eyes flew open. And stared.

Dean was already falling to his knees, shirt beginning to stain red from the unwanted new holes in his body. Sam didn't know how many bullets had hit, and he didn't care. Dean had managed to push Sam out of harm's way, again. Again, and Sam should have stopped him. Again, and Sam did so little to deserve his brother's undying love and trust. Again, all Sam brought his brother was pain.

A cry was ripped from his throat as he lunged forward to catch Dean, who was collapsing into his arms.

"Dean, hey Dean. Look at me. Hey hey hey don't go yet-"

Dean's eyes started to glaze over, and he let out a small gasp of pain as his shoulder came in contact with Sam's supporting hands. So that makes two bullets that hit, thought Sam, glancing over his brother's body. One in the shoulder and one in the stomach. The third had missed. Thank god. Dean would be fine. Dean would make it. Sam just had to get the bullets out of his body and bandage the wounds. He could do that. He had to.

But then there were arms on his shoulders and arms, pulling him back. Away from the blood that was slowly spreading on the ground. Away from his brother. Sam fought tooth and nail to get back to Dean, who was already crumbling to the cold, snowy ground without Sam's support.

"Sammy-" It was said as a whisper, but Sam heard. Sam heard everything his brother had to say. Always. It was in his eyes, too. The eyes that were both asking Sam to stay, but pleading with him to go and leave Dean there.

"Let me go!" Sam was snarling and growling and trying to break free from his captors, but there were too many hands on him, all over him; tying his wrists behind his back and binding his ankles together.

"Dean! Dean stay here, man! I'll come back for you! I promise!"

Please stay alive until I get back. Please please please.

()()()

It took Sam ten minutes to convince the men that they broke him.

Once they loaded his bound form into the backseat of their car, putting the tall muscular one in the back with him, they started driving through the fast falling snow and the howling wind north. Away from the barn. Away from Dean.

It wasn't hard. All he had to do was let the tightly held back tears flow. And occasionally release a small whimper. Nothing he couldn't handle. Not when it was so easy to close his eyes and scream at the world for doing this to his brother.

Ten minutes of agonizing waiting and hoping. Waiting for them to believe his not all that fake act. Hoping that Dean was still alive. Ten minutes passed and Sam was done waiting.

"Pull over."

Short-ass, who was driving, leered at the younger Winchester in the rear view mirror.

"If you think for one second that I'm gonna stop this car-"

"I'm gonna throw up..."

"Shit!"

The car immediately screeched to a halt and Sam stumbled out, retching into the snow. He felt the tall man walk up behind him. Sam raised his hand and weakly gestured for something to wipe his mouth with. The tall man growled with exasperation and reached into his pocket to pull out a used napkin. He sighed and bent over to give it to Sam.

Sam, who then locked his arm around the man's throat and ripped the gun out of the tall man's grip. He pressed it to the man's temple, cocking it. The short man and the other one were out of the car now, both pointing their guns at Sam.

"You make a move on me, I'll shoot him."

Neither of the men wavered.

"Put the guns down. Now."

They lowered their weapons.

"Slide them over."

A hesitation.

"Do it!" Sam yelled, already aching and impatient to get back to Dean.

Two loaded guns skidded across the icy ground and came to a stop at Sam's feet. Keeping the gun he was holding pressed against the man's head, Sam slowly bent down and picked the other two up. He pushed one of them into the tall one's back; a signal to start walking. He led him between the other two men, who at this point could have exploded from a single touch.

"Your brother is dead."

This came from the short one. A whisper. He was drilling holes into Sam with his eyes, and didn't back down when Sam turned his glare onto him.

"He's been shot. Twice. It's the middle of the winter, and the snow's falling fast.

In one swift move, Sam brought the butt of the gun down on his head, knocking him out. Then the other one, then the tall one. Sam checked the car to make sure that the key was still in the ignition. Opening the trunk, he smiled grimly when he found duct tape. It would have to do.

Three minutes later, (that made sixteen minutes in total. Sam was counting.), the men were taped up and laid on the side of the road. Sam would deal with them later.

The tires screeched as Sam turned the car around and floored the pedal. His knuckles were turning white now, white like the snow that was falling too fast for Sam's liking. Dean would freeze if Sam didn't get to him soon. Freeze or bleed out. Unless he did so already.

No. There was no way Sam would let himself be late. He had to make it in time. He had to. Because if he didn't, Sam would be lost. Lost and alone and a complete failure.

Twenty four minutes. He saw the barn coming up on his right. It had been twenty four minutes since Dean got shot. Since a screaming and thrashing Sam had been separated from his freezing, bleeding brother.

Sam froze.

His brother who wasn't lying in front of the barn where Sam left him.

Dean was gone.

[infelixxanima]

Promp list i meme. “I thought you were dead.” he probably sent her in a particularly difficult errand and took way longer than expected jjdskj sorry 😂

Prompt List Meme || Accepting

       “You sent me after a hero that was basically a human lightbulb. I did die. Twice.” 

She used the sleeve of her shirt to wipe away the now sticky blood that had splattered along her cheek. In fact it had gotten everywhere. It should’ve been a particularly easy hunt. But something needed to shake up the hero society, keep them from getting too comfortable in their own skin. 

She flicks something off her sweater (a grayish glob, no doubt brain matter) and sighs.

      “He pierced me with his light, do you know how violating that was?” She shuddered. “I had to cut off his head to make him stop.” 

But despite the complaining, it was only half hearted.  A task that she had set out for early in the morning three days go should’ve taken no more than 24 hours. She could’ve returned after her first failed attempt but then again, she wasn’t one to return to Shigaraki with a failure.

Her first few steps are uncertain, as if she’s just now accessing the damage she’d taken and decides that if she isn’t actively bleeding out all over the hardwood floor, then she’d live to lick her wounds and fight another day. 

She steps to the counter, reaching for napkins (she’s no good at first aid) and lifts the bottom half of her shirt to reveal the legitimate use of duct tape used as makeshift bandaging and lazily she sticks the napkins to the bloody mess with a sigh. 

      “Next time, pick a hero with a useless quirk please. That man almost gutted me--” 

She pads barefoot (hell if she knew where her shoes went) towards her room. She just wanted to rest--

       “If I die in my sleep I’m going to haunt your ass forever.” 

[condenscedchaos]

Sneak peek at Chapter 1 (not the final edit)

1

“If you want to know who your friends are, get yourself a jail sentence.”

-Charles Bukowski

Brooklyn, NY

     The interrogation room was sweaty, it smelled of piss and sick. It was as if all the disgusting things that have passed through this room somehow left their mark on it. Embedded themselves in the linoleum and cheap furniture. Cleanliness wasn't a priority outside the protected zones of the city. They had much bigger problems to contend with, how to stay alive, where your next meal was coming from. Chances are if you wound up in this interrogation room things aren't going as planned.

    Mickey was sitting there bleeding, bandaged, and sore, eating some soy cheese puffs. Some would say his ability to remain calm was a big part of his charm, others just thought it made him seem like an asshole. The Police Interrogation Android or PIA for short was what they used so they didn’t have to hire as many cops as the city really needed. It was a piss poor replacement for human interaction. It wheeled itself in, it’s wheels squeaking and making lots of noise. The doors unlocking as he entered. It had a fiberglassed exterior housing a sturdy mechanical body. It looked like it had been attacked a few times before and even had some graffiti on it’s face and duct tape holding together it’s less than vital bits. It’s was top of the line for those living outside the city’s walls.

The PIA’s synthesized voice abruptly cut through the silence. “Do you know why you are in our custody today?”

Mickey without even looking up shot back a response “: I don’t know; you don’t like eating alone?”

The PIA, unphased continued with it’s pre programed line of questioning. “No sir. You are here today because we want your account of events for the record.”

Mick finally looked up from his bag of soy cheese puffs “Why? You know what happened.”

“We have an accounting of the events, but anything you say can be used to assist you in court.” The PIA responded with it’s programed empathy.

“...or against me” Mick mumbled halfway under his breath

“Sir  you have already been notified of that” the robotic voice stated dryly. It reminded Mick of one of those old timey robots from the 1950’s. Like at any moment it would wheel itself around the room wildly and yell “Danger! Danger!”

“Alright copper, what do you want to know?” Mick said while trying to do his best gangster voice. He leaned back in his chair picking at a bandage on his arm. It had some sort of cartoon character on it and it was a bright pink with rainbows.

“We need your accounting of the events you were involved in” it stated dryly

“You mean the truth?” Mickey asked with the hint of a grin

“Yes.”

Standing up abruptly and yelling at the android “You can’t handle the truth!”

The PIA was again unphased “A Few Good Men 1992” Very funny. Please sit back down and continue Mr Grey. These investigation androids were designed to interact better with humans, they didn’t get offended by humor, unlike the ones that patrolled the streets.

“Fiiiiiiiiiiiiiiine.” and he sits down slightly pouting, “Well it all started on Thursday night, I was just getting finished up fighting some battle bots for the prize money down at The Forged Hammer in Red hook. A couple of buddies were planning on meeting up with me there to grab a few drinks and shoot the shit.

     The Forged Hammer was a blue collar bar. One of the larger bars in Red Hook. It was in an old cattle processing plant. Most people went there for cheap food and to watch someone get their ass kicked by the robots that fought in the cage. They would bet on how long someone would last in the cage. They called it “Asimov’s Doom.”  The owner had the idea to get a bunch of fighting droids and even a few military and police droids set up to fight. So these things were harmless if you stayed away from them. However if you tried to get past them to the door they were protecting they would kick the holy hell out of you.  If you made it out of the cage they would deactivate. Most people would last seconds. A few might make it into the minutes.

     So usually every few months I would come back for some extra cash. Most people couldn’t fight droids, and especially not battlebots.  Luckily I wasn’t a typical fighter. I  was one of the ones that discovered they had magic in them. I didn’t know how to cast spells or anything fancy like that but he learned that if he concentrated hard enough I could pretty much make my body do whatever I really needed it to do.

“Sir are you claiming that you have some sort of magical ability?” The PIA queried.

“I’m not claiming anything, I’m flat out telling you.” Mickey’s face serious now.

“There has never been any definitive proof of magic and the Federal government doesn’t recognize magical abilities as authentic. Is there any way you can prove that you have these abilities”

“Sure.” and he held his index finger over the linoleum table and small arcs of electricity bridged the gap between his fingers and the table.

“How did you do that, sir?” The android asked unperturbed.

“Well everything has electricity in it, humans have it in their nervous system, in our brains. In each molecule and atom. Everything in this world that has an electron has electricity in it. I just focus on producing more and more of it until it is visible.”

“Thank you sir, this has been recorded for further reference. Please continue.”

“So after I made it through the cage the place was a mad house. The music bumped on in the background, a holographic band played in the corner. A cover of a South Korean pop artist being played in flapper style got all the hipster girls bobbing and dancing along with the beat. I made a cool six thousand in cash that night and all the free drinks I wanted. Life was good.  I had my choice of any of the bot fight groupies, but tonight was for the boys. A sultry redheaded waitress named Karla walked up to his table winked and dropped off a bottle of beer I didn’t order. It had a heart drawn on the napkin stuck to it. She was a short little thing, barely would be able to see over the table on this stage without those platforms she wore. She was wearing a short frilly little jean skirt and oh lord it had me thinking things. She was foxy in that “ I will flirt with you and kick your ass” sort of way. I guess that’s the sort of attitude you need to cultivate in a job like that. Especially outside the walls of the city.

Life was dangerous out here, more brutal than the wild west. At least in  the old west they didn’t have androids chasing you down and curb stomping you for breaking a law. Guy got killed just the other day for Jaywalking. I still walk past the stain he left on the sidewalk two weeks later. They made a statement claiming the droid was decommissioned but we all knew that was a lie. It would just have it’s exterior plates changed or painted and back out on the street in a few months.

Thinking about shit like that always brought Boris to mind. He was one of the guys who was coming to meet me there that night. That crazy Russian bastard could control almost anything remotely. It was always weird how he was tinkering with all sorts of tech when we were younger, so I guess flying drones for the Air Force was a logical evolution. Bastard even took over a train one time because it was passing his stop. It made me laugh while I was sitting there drinking by myself and bleeding.

You get strange looks while you sit at a table bleeding and drinking by yourself, or maybe it’s because I’m covered in blood and beat up seven battle bots by myself. Either way the crowd was keeping it’s distance. The music shifted, and a different hologram singer came on, her voice was deep and throaty. This one was different, it walked around the room, it wasn’t a static hologram like the other one. The band behind her began to snap its fingers. She was wearing a long sequined dress that pushed up her ample bosom, she had long crimped red hair. Her lips were as red as fresh blood, and every word out of them was making love to me.

I can't see where you comin' from

But I know just what you runnin' from:

And what matters ain't the "who's baddest" but

The ones who stop you fallin' from your ladder, baby

And you feel like you feelin' now

And doin' things just to please your crowd,

When I love you like the way I love you,

And I suffer, but I ain't gonna cut you 'cause

This ain't no place for no hero.

This ain't no place for no better man.

This ain't no place for no hero

To call "home."

This ain't no place for no hero.

This ain't no place for no better man.

This ain't no place for no hero

To call "home."

Every time I close my eyes, I think,

I think about you inside,

And your mother, givin' up on askin' why -

Why you lie, and you cheat, and you try to make

A fool outta she...

I can't see where you comin' from,

But I know just what you're runnin' from.

And what matters ain't the "who's baddest," but the

Ones who stop you fallin' from your ladder, 'cause

This ain't no place for no hero.

This ain't no place for no better man.

This ain't no place for no hero

To call "home."

    A loud bang on the table broke my hypnotic gaze on the music “MICK! Comrade, get the fuck over here!” as he wrapped his huge hairy arms around me squeezing the life from my body. I could almost hear him cooing like some sort of giant fucking pigeon.

    When he finally let go I could feel my face flushed with blood. His big broad grin shined through his beard.

“How the hell are ya? Where’s Keane?” I asked still trying to catch my breath

    “He’s running a little late like always. He’s been obsessing over this new program he created. He just ordered a custom hard light holographic projector; so who knows what the hell he’s up to.”  After a few rounds and stories told, an almost skeletal thin tall man walked in, it wasn’t hard to miss him. Over six foot tall dressed in all white and with matching white hair something that contrasted against his dark skin. His steps were measured and he did well to weed throughout the crowds as best he could without anyone touching him. His jacket had the sheen of an anti photography coating. The type that blizzards the lens when someone snaps a shot of you. You had to wonder if he had something similar going on with his hair. Keane always was a little paranoid, and working for these tech companies didn’t help anything.

    That same red head from before dropped by with a bucket of beer for the table. “Want anything else Mick?”

“Me? All I want is you red, but maybe ask these guys” Motioning to Keane and Boris.

Keane coughed while asking “Can  I please have a tea with honey and lemon?” He asked with a little bit of his Trinidadian accent coming out.

“And throw a little whiskey in there too” Boris added without being asked.

    Karla came back with his tea and a shot of whiskey on the side. Keane handed it to Boris and it vanished in an instant. It was a good time and then once it got later into the night with the help of some liquid courage some guy got the guts to give Asimov’s doom a go. He towered over Mickey and his arms were wider than Keane’s torso. He was a biker, one from around the neighborhood. Good guys actually, they were known for making sure people got home safe late at night, they even had a community garden that they grew real food to give children and struggling families.

    He stepped into the cage, shirtless and covered in tattoos. Shouts of his buddies all wearing the same cut yelled and told him that he could do it. He stepped forward and activated the first android. It was a new one they had to pull from the storage, an older model than the ones that Mick fought. Most likely some cheap Yugoslavian knock off from back in 2038. He punched it where the neck met the head, it’s weak spot. He broke his hand badly, blood erupted into the cage, the fight was done. Then it grabbed his arm, the forearm and shoulder and with a swift movement twisted and jerked it him so that he was facing the ground. It broke his right arm in two places before they shut it down. Poor bastard. They had to rush him to the local doc to try and get him fixed up.

    Soon the place quieted down, most of the crowd cleared out a little after midnight. That just left the three of them and the regulars that usually closed down the place to drink and talk late into the night.

[itsiotrecords-blog]

http://ift.tt/2uatqnc

War is hell. But for a few opportunistic and enterprising visionaries, it can also be a springboard to business success. Two of the biggest, bloodiest global conflicts in human history did more than rewrite maps and change the balance of international power — they provided the world with some of its most successful brands ever.

#1 Instant Noodles The journey of this inventor and businessman goes through not one, but two World War II occupations, and even into space. Born in Taiwan in 1910, Momofuku Ando was expatriated to Japan during their occupation of his island home. After the war in the Pacific came to a conclusion, Ando found himself under occupation by American troops and battling hunger alongside the newly-defeated Japanese. It took Ando several years before his idea for cheap noodles went into mass-production, but after several attempts he finally found a formula that worked. College students in need of cheap sustenance can thank the endless food lines, desperation, and lack of surviving infrastructure in the wasted cities of Japan for giving Momofuku the inspiration and drive to develop his signature Cup of Noodles.

#2 McDonald’s French Fries Graduating from pigs to potatoes, high school dropout J.R. Simplot developed the first ever freeze-dried potatoes and vegetables for the U.S. Army, right when international logistics threatened to derail Allied efforts in Europe. The longer shelf-life and easy reconstitution of Simplot’s frozen veggies helped ensure troops overseas could be kept stocked with the food they needed to fuel their march through Europe. When the end of the war dried up demand from his biggest customer, Simplot signed a contract with one Ray Kroc to provide frozen French fries. Fast-forward some 50 years, and Simplot’s potato empire has permanently forced the association of “Idaho” and “potato” by providing McDonald’s with more than 50% of its French fries worldwide.

#3 Chemical Fertilizers Back before the abundance of cheap food drove the world’s population to unsustainable levels, agriculture was limited by the amount of nitrogen found in soil. While scientists had already discovered the link between nitrogen levels and crop yields, the fertilizer industry didn’t really explode until it literally started making explosives. Starting in World War I, the chemical research of Fritz Haber allowed the German army to douse its enemies in deadly chlorine. In World War II the Allied Powers took the Haber Process further by manufacturing copious amounts of munitions through nitrogen synthesis. At the end of the war, these industrial-scale efforts were re-purposed to produce chemical fertilizers.

#4 Tampons The world’s favorite feminine hygiene brand didn’t start as a sponge for ambiguous blue water. The haphazard medical conditions of World War I did more to kill troops than the actual fighting. To improve the situation, manufacturing company Kimberly-Clark developed a lightweight, highly absorbent gauze known as Cellucotton to help American soldiers injured in combat. In the post-war years, leftover Cellucotton bandages were re-purposed by menstruating Red Cross nurses. Kimberly-Clark took note, and after a little tinkering produced their first sanitary napkin expressly for women’s health. The Kotex model was replicated by Tampax in the midst of World War II, and over the following decades they refined their bandages-turned-pads into the cotton tubes we now know as tampons.

#5 Teflon During World War II, Allied scientists were tasked with keeping military weaponry one step ahead of the fascists. The Manhattan Project commenced with the goal of making the biggest boom since the start of the universe. Teflon, accidentally discovered in 1938 by Roy J. Plunkett, came under intense demand almost immediately when it was found to withstand the volatile ingredients of the first atomic bombs. After the Project culminated with the destruction of two Japanese cities, Teflon would be repurposed most famously as a non-stick coating in pots and pans, as well as a stain-resistant coating for clothing.

#6 Sweet’n’Low This sugar substitute was discovered in 1879 by a chemist named Ira Remsen who couldn’t be bothered to wash his hands before eating. At that time, the national obsession with weight-loss schemes hadn’t started, and folks were happy to eat plain old sugar. Saccharin didn’t come into mainstream use until World War I imposed rations on consumer staples like sugar, and people began buying up alternatives in droves. The same thing happened again in World War II, and when a father and son team combined saccharine with dextrose at their diner in the 1950s, their product was rebranded as Sweet’n’Low. Turning the leftovers from wartime rationing into a new weight-loss gimmick, saccharin survived the return of natural sugar and kept its place on restaurant tables across America.

#7 Microwave Ovens Before Hot Pockets and TV dinners made the nuclear option a staple of the American kitchen, microwaves were simply a side-effect of World War II radar emitters. Self-taught engineer Percy Spencer was conducting research on magnetrons — a key component of radar systems — when he noticed that a candy bar in his pocket had melted. He theorized that microwaves emitting from the magnetrons generated the heat responsible for ruining his snack. Naturally, he tested his theory by proceeding to blow eggs and popcorn up using microwave emissions. He finally managed to pull himself away from his new toy long enough to let his employers know what he had found. His discovery was soon put to work, and the first commercial microwave ovens were produced in 1955.

#8 Duct Tape Quibbles over whether “duct” or “duck” came first aside, this ubiquitous, multi-functional tape first emerged during the Second World War. GIs needed a flexible, water-proof material they could use to repair everything from canteens to ammunition cases. When Johnson and Johnson came up with a combination medical tape and self-adhesive strip they could deliver in rolls to the troops, duct tape was born. The versatility of the tape made it popular among troops long after the war ended. Consumer demand quickly turned the military tool into a household name — which is only fitting, considering it was a Navy mother who first conceived of the idea out of concern for her enlisted family.

#9 Disposable Syringes As anyone who lived through the ’80s most homophobic health scare can tell you, sharing needles is a quick way to spread diseases. But before America became obsessed with HIV/AIDs, the military was trying to balance the need for frontline painkillers with the risk of overdoses and morphine addiction. During the American Civil War, as well as the First World War, wounded soldiers pretty much had to play through the pain until they were carted off to ad hoc medical tents and treated with morphine there. By World War II, the old glass and metal syringes were abandoned in favor of a new product, called the Syrette, which was compact (limiting the dosage it could administer), and expendable. Syrettes were distributed to troops pre-filled with single doses of morphine. This set the stage for later inventors who moved beyond distributing morphine to troops and reworked the product into a mass-produced medical device, now typically made of plastic.

#10 Disney No, Walt Disney didn’t start his namesake entertainment company in the midst of World War II. As the screaming voices of those within the Disney vault will tell you, his animation studio had been enjoying years of success with a string of animated shorts in the 1920s, as well as feature-length efforts like Snow White. Walt proceeded to drive all that success straight into the ground, releasing a string of feature-length failures (we now call them “classics”) and then fumbling management of his striking animators who wanted Disney to unionize. By the time he capitulated, the company was facing bankruptcy. Then the U.S. government, out of concern over fascist influence in South America, offered Disney an all-expenses paid trip down through Brazil, Argentina and Chile. The plan was for Disney to do a series of animated propaganda pieces celebrating Latin American culture, softening international relations and allowing the U.S. to focus on storming European beaches. Disney’s deal with the military grew to include a series of propaganda cartoons, and resuscitated his collapsing brand so it could grow into the international entertainment superpower we all know and fear today. Without WWII, Disney would have gone whistling while he worked into the margins of history.