#Milk Rate Hike

[ghosty-writes-23]

Coming Home To You. - Ada Wong.

!TAGS!: Lesbian Relationship, Mentions Of Leon, !CONSENT IS KEY!, Body Worship, fingering, eating out, uses the term ‘Master’, tiny bit of angst, comfort. 

Pairing: Sub!Girlfriend!Ada + Dom!Fem!Reader.

Rating: Mature.

Summary: It all started as a joke Ada saying you would look cute in a maid’s outfit.

Word Count: 2.4k

Ghosty's Notes: Hi, I wanted to try something a little different, this is my first time ever writing for a female character, so I hope it isn’t too bad haha, but I do hope you enjoy it, comment if you want more content like this along with my normal Leon content, might even write one with both Leon and Ada in the future.

Thank you for all the support, it means alot❤️

-Ghosty❤️

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18+ Content // MINORS DO NOT INTERACT // 18+ Content.

It had been a couple months since your girlfriend Ada was home safe and sound, she didn’t tell you much about the mission because it was classified but she did tell you once it was over she was going to take some time off, so the pair of you could finally spend some time together maybe even go on that hiking trip you two planned last year but never got around to doing. Preparing a simple you felt excited when you got the message Ada was going to be coming home tonight so you decided to make her favourite. 

Humming softly to the music that played in your small apartment kitchen, you sipped on your glass of white wine before you felt a pair of arms wrap around your waist a pair of lips softly kiss the side of your neck, the scent of her shower gel filling your senses causing a feeling of content and comfort wash over you, a smile found its way onto your lips as you leaned your head back slightly as you stirred the pot that was simmering on the stove. 

“Missed you.” Ada mumbled softly, you could tell she was tired but she just wanted to spend all the time with you as she could since she got home. “Miss you too.” you said softly as you kissed the side of her head, you could see how exhausted she was there were slight bags under her eyes and her skin was slightly paler but she still looked as beautiful as ever to you. Ada burrows her face into the crook of your neck inhaling the scent of your milk and honey shower gel, she finds comfort in the warmth of your body.

It's good to be home.” Ada mumbled against your neck as you drew your attention back to the pot on the stove, seeing it was nearly cooked you flicked off the stove so the food didn’t overcook. “It's good to have you home princess.” you say with a smile as you turn around and wrap your arms around her waist, A soft laugh left Ada’s lips as she was pulled closer to your body, her arms wrapping around your neck. 

“You and your pet names, I'm not a princess.” Ada playfully scolded you as she playfully rolled her eyes but you could see the smile growing on her face, you grinned down at her before you pressed a soft and sweet kiss to her lips. “Of course you are, you're my princess.” you said with a cheeky grin before you gently picked her up causing her to wrap her slender legs around your waist. “Now why don’t I help you get dressed into something more comfortable?” you say as you begin walking upstairs to your guys shared bedroom. 

“You mean less clothing.” Ada quips with a soft laugh as she softly brushes her nose against your neck as you make it upstairs to your bedroom. “I never said that.” you gasped playfully as you gently placed her on your shared bed before you kneeled down in front of her and grabbed one of her thigh high boots and softly trailing kisses up the leather boot before you grabbed the small zipper on the side.

You could feel her soft shiver at the affection, a smile forming on your lips as you could see her flushed reaction, her cheeks dusted slightly pink, you could see her bottom lip in between her teeth as she looked down at you.

“Tease.” she softly whispers, squirming against your touch before a soft giggle leaves her lips. “Always.” you said with a small smirk as you gently tugged the zipper down and carefully took the first boot off. Moving to the second boot you give it the same treatment of kisses and tender touches being as gentle and careful as possible. “So many kisses.” you heard Ada breath before you reached up and gently pushed up her dress causing it to rest on her hips just above her panties, you could see a small wet patch that made your grin widen. 

“Of course it's what you deserve.” you spoke as you heard her breath pick up slightly, carefully running your hands up her smooth thighs your fingers hooked into the top of her panties before your eyes drifted to her chocolate brown ones, you already knew the answer but you wanted her consent first, when Ada noticed you stop she looked at you before nodding her head knowing what you where asking. 

“Such soft skin.” You spoke softly as you trailed kisses up her inner thigh while softly gripping the outside of her thighs, you could hear Ada sigh softly, you could feel her twitch with every kiss, a shiver ran through her body as you saw her grip the bed sheet underneath her. “Mmm…” you heard Ada breath as your lips travelled higher getting closer to where you knew she wanted you most. “Y/n.” she gasped softly as she arched her back off the bed slightly, her body trembling slightly. 

“Yes princess.” you say with a slight tease in your voice as you pushed her dress up a little higher to just under her breasts, giving you the perfect view of her toned stomach. “Don’t stop.” Ada breathed you could hear the want and need in her voice as it showed in her eyes. “I don’t plan on it princess.” you say before you carefully moved in between Ada’s legs positioning them over your shoulders, her pussy was wet slick everywhere but it just made you lick your lips, you placed a kiss just above her clit causing a soft gasps to leave her lips before you ran your tongue up her fold a soft moan leaving her lips as she threaded her fingers into your hair. 

She tasted of heaven and sin, she made all your self control fly out the window as you buried your face in her, soaked in the pleasure you brought her, knowing she felt the same that the same passion runs through her veins. “Fuck.” you breathed finally pulling away, your face was wet but there was a wicked grin on your lips as you looked down at the woman below you.

Her face flushed a thin layer of sweat on her body, her hair sticking to her forehead but her eyes held a look of tender affection and love that made your heart race, she looked like the most beautiful woman in the world to you. 

Sliding your hand down her stomach, you carefully sunk 2 fingers inside her and felt her gummy walls tighten around then, you grunted softly when you felt her tug on your hair between her perfectly manicured fingers, her eyes were closed as a sweet but soft moan left her lips, it was like music to ears besides hearing her laugh.

“So wet for me sweetheart.” you tease as you slowly move your fingers knowing the exact spot that makes her eyes roll to the back of her head, sometimes it brought a little sick satisfaction knowing you can make her feel this way and it makes you want to tease her even more. 

“Don’t say that.” Ada says embarrassed but another moan left her lips when you angled your finger right in her sweet spot causing her eyes to roll back slightly. Keeping a steady rhythm you just gently kissed her inner thighs as you watched her reactions you could feel her getting closer, moving your thumb you curled your fingers slightly and used your thumb to rub her clit causing her to arch her back off the bed. 

“Cumming.” she whined softly as she came with a loud moan her gummy walls tightening even more around your fingers, smiling at her with grin you slowly pulled your fingers carefully you gave her another kiss before she pulled you up to her by your hair before she kissed you deeply and almost desperately, it made you smile as you kissed her back.

Pulling away from the kiss so you could breath you looked at her dishevelled appearance. Her hair was messy and sticking to her forehead, her cheeks were red and blushing, her breath heavy but there was a wide smile on her face. 

“Seems you missed me on your mission.” you soft tease as you wiped your bottom lip, Ada softly laughs and gently hits your chest. “You always give me a proper welcome home.” Ada says as you tug her dress fully off and toss it to the ground before pulling her to you so her head resting on your bicep as you wrapped an arm around you.

“It's the least I could do, the old ball and chain.” You said with a soft smile as you kissed her forehead. You felt Ada lean up and kiss your cheek before she looked at you with a mischievous look. “I won't let you ever escape.” she whispered in your ear, you could hear the slight possessive tone in her voice.

“Then I guess I’m your captive, what will you have me do? Mop floors and make sure the apartment is always clean and organised, kneel in front of you and take off your boots every time you come home after a mission, be at your beckon call no matter the time of night and day.” Scarlett says in a teasing tone, playing into Ada’s little game. “You would make a cute maid, wearing a cute little outfit with the apron and the cute collar, working around the house.” Ada says with a playful giggle as she imagined you dressed as a maid. 

“So I'm a maid now, then I guess I will have a uniform.” You say with a cheeky smile as you pull Ada onto your lap as your back rested against the headboard. “How short will my uniform be master?.” you ask with a slight smirk, playing into her little fantasy.  “Sort enough that I get a good view as you work.” Ada says into your ear, her breath softly hitting your neck as her arm loosely wraps around you. 

“Cheeky.” you say as you run your fingers down her back, drawing small circles with your fingers you could feel her relax against your body. “How would I have my hair?” you asked, trying to picture how Ada wanted you to dress.

“Your hair would be in a bun, very old fashion with a little bow on the back of your head, very proper.” Ada says with a small grin on her lips. “Oh of course, we have to do things probably, what about my shoes, would I wear flats or heels.” You asked as you pressed a kiss to her next, already planning a surprise for her in the morning. 

“Heels but something you can walk in.” Ada says as you see her eyes close, feeling your lips on her neck. Smiling gave her hips a soft squeeze. “Maybe you could wear something sexier.” Ada suggests causing you to raise an eyebrow with a smirk on your lips. “Something shorter and a little tighter, to give the master a good view.” You say with a cheeky grin causing Ada to laugh as she closes her eyes, a tried yawn leaving her lips. 

“Hey sweetheart, I have a question to ask you?” you asked her as a question crossed your mind, you didn’t know how she was going to react to this but it nagged at the back of your head ever since you found out some information from Chris. “I heard you saw Leon on your last mission.” You say quietly and soon you felt Ada’s body tense at the mention of her old flames name, before she slowly nodded her head. 

“I did..why do you ask.” Ada says before she looks down at you as your head rested on her chest. “I just don’t want to sound insecure or anything. I know you two have a long and complicated history but do you still have feelings for him, like how you did in raccoon city?” you finally asked her, feeling as if a weight had been lifted off your shoulders, you loved and trusted Ada but sometimes your overthinking kicks in because deep down you knew she could do so much better.

You heard her let out a soft sigh, her eyes narrowing and her jaw tense making you start to regret asking her the question, she moved and rested her chin on top of your head.

“Leon and I have a complicated relationship but it ended that night in raccoon city, of course I will always have some feelings for him from time to time, but….” she pauses as if she is trying to piece her thoughts together. “....But i’m no longer in love with him, not anymore he moved on and so have I.” she says before she takes your face into her hands, her eyes holding a tender look of love and affection only reserved for you.

“I know how much you loved him and he loved you, there is no denying that you two had something special that was intense and strong, I just guess in the back of my mind I was just thinking that…” you started but Ada cut you off by pressing a soft kiss to your lips. 

“I love you Y/n and only you.” she says honestly as her chocolate brown eyes looked into yours, you could see she was being honest and sincere causing your heart to sped up slightly and a small blush cover your cheeks.

“I love you too master.” You say with a laugh causing Ada to laugh as well as she pulls the blanket up over the pair of you, moving you resting on your side, your legs intertwined with each other as you held her closely to you, her head resting comfortably on your bicep. 

“Your mine aren’t you.” Ada asks with a smug grin on her lips as she asks the question. “Always.” you say as you feel Ada begin to play with your hair, her fingers moving slowly as it stroked through the strands. “Good girl.” Ada says her smug grin widens as she keeps playing with your hair, enjoying the softness to it. 

Closing her eyes Ada leans up and softly kisses you before she lets out a soft yawn. “Goodnight.” she whispers softly and when you didn’t reply she knew you had fallen asleep. “Cute.” she thought to herself before she nuzzled in closely to you and fell asleep quickly, happy to finally be home safe and sound in your arms.

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©Ghosty-writes-23, 2024. all rights reserved. !I DO NOT! consent to translations or replications or reproduction of my work on any other social media platforms and or make AI Bots without my explict consent and permission.

[localboobsenjoyer]

You hate hiking. You have always hated hiking. But in recent times it ha become more bearable. Amy, your new girlfriend, had colossal tits. Like really huge perky breast. So much so that she usally didn't even need to wear a bra. So during these hikes you can at least enjoy her breast bouncing all over. You could almost hear the milk sloshing inside her boutinful bosom. This time however there was a catch. She brought her ugly brunette flatchested friend, Jane. She seemed to have a crush on you but she was pretty boring so you mostly ignored her. You walked away a bit because you had to take a piss. You must have been gone for no longer than 2 minutes but they were enough for a tragedy take place. Jane and Amy were passionatly kissing but the true horror was happening on the chest area. Amy's breast were rapidly deflating while Jane were growing at an allarming rate. You were paralized by the shock. The kissed ended only when Amy was completely flat and she passed out. You run to her to help but she wouldn't wake up. When you stood up Jane was gone and you were left alone with the horror that just take place and you future ex girlfriend

[youthereader]

Near Zero part 4.

PAIRING: cillian murphy as j. robert oppenheimer x fem!reader

SUMMARY: 2k words. Brought on as part of the Manhattan Project, your old physics professor sees you in a new light.

RATING: E; mentions of smut, infidelity, drinking, period-typical sexism

A/N: Although based on real life characters, this is J. Robert Oppenheimer as played by Cillian Murphy, a fictional character, and does not intend to be accurate. This is merely for entertainment. Once again, I owe @indulgence-be-thy-name my life. My brain just isn't co-operative at the best of times and she's the best. This is a bit of a filler chapter but I hope you like it anyway! 🖤

masterlist

“Kitty would like you to come for dinner.”

You glance up from your paper, brows hiking as he leans over you, his voice soft. You recall his seminars at that same volume. He never gave the same lecture twice, so more fool anyone that didn’t understand the concepts Oppie spoke of.

Your lips part. “Oh.”

You’ve never spoken to Kitty Oppenheimer. You saw her as recently as yesterday when you walked to get milk from the store in the center of town. She was in the street, laughing with one of the wives of a fellow physicist. You didn’t know she knew who you were.

“We’re having a group over tomorrow night,�� he adds. “We’ll have an awful lot of fun.”

Someone calls for him and you use the moment to gather your thoughts, to think of an excuse. As he returns to your side, you whisper:

“Robert.”

You began to call him by his first name a week ago, after you slept together for the first time. You were way past calling him ‘Dr. Oppenheimer’, and you called him ‘Oppie’ now in front of others. If anyone noticed, they haven’t let on, and if they were to ask why the change, you’re sure you’d tell a half-truth – you were closer to him now than your days at Berkeley. You were on equal footing, in a way. You did not, however, moan ‘Oppie’ when he pleasured you with either hands, cock, or tongue.

“She doesn’t know,” he whispers back, as if reading your mind.

The look he gives you, along with the accompanying pat on your shoulder, tells you he doesn’t believe you’re walking into trap. You nod, and you part ways once more.

-

You’ve slept with him a few times since the first night. All within the T building, all under the cover of darkness. You wish you could sneak him into your house but it would be noticed. He already walked you home more than once in full view of the street.

A guard or two would know you and Robert leave together occasionally, but that isn’t unusual. He is often with other people because of the nature of his position.

You haven’t behaved any differently, thus raising suspicions. You don’t feel any guilt. Perhaps that part of you doesn’t exist, at least not when it concerns him. It would be more of a headache that a morality issue if Kitty were to confront you about it; from what you’ve heard, she’s a nightmare to deal with when she makes something or someone her mission.

-

You arrive the next evening at the Oppenheimer residence, flashing your pass at the guards at the picket fence. You’re let through with a curt nod, feeling your nerves intensify when you hear the laughter coming from within the house.

You’re late, having delayed getting ready. You decided to dress well, but not ostentatiously. You wear your best dress, having not worn it since arriving in Los Alamos. You notice a mark on your shoe as you walk towards the front door, pausing to buff it away with your free hand. Your other arm carries a cake tin your mother gifted you – and until tonight, you never had a use for it.

You knock on the front door and wait a minute before it opens, revealing Robert, sans porkpie hat. He smiles slowly, blue eyes sparkling with outright delight.

“Hello,” he murmurs, and kisses you on the lips, as if it’s the most natural thing in the world.

“Hi,” you whisper, and glance over his shoulder.

You’re aware of his eyes still on you, taking you in. Standing there on his front doorstep, you know it’s perhaps the only time you’ll have alone with him all evening.

“I’m very happy to see you, darling,” he says.

“Is it her?” someone calls, and you recognize it as Kitty, your heart leaping.

Robert leads you in, shutting the door behind you. Kitty appears, eyes widening, her cigarette in her mouth. She takes it out, exhaling as she comes toward you. She stares at the cake tin, coming in to kiss you as Europeans do, one-two, her hands on your shoulders.

“You’re adorable, you brought cake!”

“I thought chocolate would be a safe choice,” you murmur, feeling your cheeks flush.

She plucks the cake from you and spins around, forcing you to follow her down the hall with Robert behind you. He reaches out and squeezes the tip of your fingers before letting go, your stomach flipping.

“We’re in the den…”

You walk in to see a group of five other couples. All the men you know, but the wives are part of Kitty’s club that meet for drinks almost daily. Kitty announces you with a flourish of her manicured hand, and you raise a hand to wave an awkward hello to the several pairs of eyes set upon you.

You shake hands, kiss some cheeks and then are ushered by Kitty into the kitchen where she sets the cake on a plate, examining it.

“Dessert done. Good for us,” she says, and she glances over to Robert whose back is to you both. “Where are those martinis, dear?”

“Almost done,” he replies. “Very, very soon.”

“Hmm. Not nearly soon enough,” Kitty says. She gives you a playful wink.

Robert turns, two martinis in hand, giving one to his wife. She takes a sip, licking her lips.

“Thank God.”

He hands you the other, and you follow suit, eyes meeting his when the alcohol reaches your tongue. There must be a whisper of vermouth.

“He will get you drunk,” Kitty says, and she takes off again, expecting you to follow her.

You sit on either side of two scientists from the experimental physicists, your ankles together as you nurse your drink. Kitty talks the most and possibly drinks the most, Robert plying everyone with as much alcohol as possible as the night goes on. Dinner is served haphazardly by Kitty, but she’s not a sloppy drinker. She’s surprisingly sharp, and a great cook from what you can discern. A beef ragu helps slow the alcohol, at least for a time, before the crowd gets rowdier.

Robert doesn’t raise his voice, ever. He drinks steadily, thoroughly, throughout the night, but doesn’t guzzle it down. He barely eats. You don’t think you’ve ever seen him eat a full meal in all the years you’ve known him. He chain smokes, lighting his guests’ cigarettes whenever able.

At one point, little Peter Oppenheimer begins to cry from his bedroom and Kitty groans, rising from her chair.

“Better deal with the little devil,” she says, slipping out.

Curiosity gets the better of you and you follow her out. You blame the martinis, and the fact that you’ve never seen Robert’s child up-close. Kitty gives you a little smile and rolls her eyes, leaving the door to the nursery partly shut as she goes to the crib.

Peter is sat up, howling, and you watch as he’s lifted out, Kitty’s hand patting his back as she shushes him. You sip on your drink, just as Kitty asks:

“So why don’t you have a husband?”

You choke, wiping your mouth with the back of your hand. “I’m sorry?”

“Well, you’re very attractive. And obviously you’re brilliant if Robert wanted you for the making of the gadget…”

Peter distracts her with another cry into her shoulder and she begins to rock him, humming. It takes another couple minutes for him to fall silent, and only then can you make out his face properly. He resembles Robert, his hair a mass of dark curls. His tear-streaked cheeks are round and rosy in the half-light, his eyelashes long against them as he snuffles. When his mouth closes, you see his perfect Cupid’s bow and dimpled chin.

“He’s beautiful,” you murmur, and Kitty nods absently.

“He gives me a headache,” she whispers. “But he’s asleep now.”

She places him down again and takes you by the elbow, whispering:

“Let’s get out of here before he starts up again.”

Kitty doesn’t seem the maternal type, but neither are you. What makes it sad to you is the lack of pride she seems to exhibit. There’s no space for Peter tonight, no swapping of stories about children. You return to the den and sink back into your chair, eyes meeting Robert’s across the way. He’s nodding politely along to a story, cigarette dangling.

“We were discussing our female genius’s lack of spouse,” Kitty announces, a little louder than you’d like.

Your face flushes and everyone turns their attention to her and then you, your drink by your lips again as if to shield yourself.

“Do we require a bachelor?” one of the wives says, leaning forward, resting her chin in her hand.

Kitty nods, sitting down. Her drink was refilled while you were with Peter. She takes a gulp.

“There’s Nielsen.”

“He’s that chemist?” another wife says. “How is his English?”

“He’s an Oakie,” one of the men chuckles. “And a bore.”

“Well, what would you suggest, Jerry?” Kitty throws back. “We’re all ears-”

“Actually, I don’t want one,” you blurt.

Everyone looks at you, including Robert, who takes out his cigarette and exhales. Elizabeth, the brunette whose husband is to your right, leans over to speak.

“You don’t want a date?”

“She means she doesn’t want a husband,” Kitty says, and she smirks, taking a drink.

You swallow, sure that it’s the alcohol loosening your tongue. “Yes. I mean, I don’t want a husband.”

“Is it… you don’t like men?” Elizabeth asks.

Your face is on fire. “I like men. I like… I like work.”

“You’ll change your mind,” another male visitor says, and you see Robert get up in your peripheral vision. “When the war is over.”

“Maybe,” you lie.

If you sound too certain, you’ll seem even stranger to these people than you already do. You’re the only one that came alone, and you’re possibly the youngest by several years, too. That could be your advantage; it might be dismissed as youthful naivete. You can’t let on that you decided as a little girl that marriage had no appeal.

“Maybe she doesn’t want to marry a scientist,” Robert says, taking your glass from you.

“A football player?” someone suggests, and there’s an eruption of laughter.

After the subject changes, there’s a shift in the atmosphere. You feel less self-conscious. Perhaps you’re tipsy, but it’s more likely the probing into your personal life in front of strangers that left you feeling less tense. It seems the worst of it is over by the time Robert returns to you with a new drink.

He takes the seat beside you, the cake having been served with some ice cream Kitty prepared earlier. Wives and husbands mingle as you feel a companionable silence settle between you and the director.

You light his cigarette for once, sharing the flame before you snap your lighter shut, inhaling.

“Did you meet Peter?” he murmurs, after a few minutes.

“Yes,” you reply, and you exchange a proper look. His head tilts towards you ever so slightly.

“He’s very strong. Quite the grip on him.”

“He’s very handsome,” you reply, exhaling with a small smile. “And you have a lovely home.”

Although it’s what the government built for him, and there’s less personality here than there would be in his ranch or his real home, it feels good to be there, in whatever sense.

Or maybe you’re drunk. Either way, you’re glad you came.

-

Kitty promises to see you again soon. One of the other couples offer to walk you home and you oblige. For the first time that night, you long for things to be different, that Robert was walking you back. You would hold his hand, lift his knuckles to your lips to kiss them.

You are very, very drunk, you realize, as you shut your front door behind you. You lean against it, sighing.

The next morning, hungover and searching for a reason to ever consider drinking again, you open your door and nearly trip over the cake tin left there overnight. You stoop to pick it up, hearing something inside it.

You turn back, opening it to peer inside. Some crumbs from last night surround a small envelope you lift from the tin, moving back inside to tear it open.

Darling,

You were wonderful last night. Nevertheless, we need to get away.

Come with me to Santa Fe.

X

Thank you again for reading! Let me know if you're liking this so far. I have no idea how long I intend to make this story but any feedback will help me gauge how interested you are for more. Likes and reblogs are therefore encouraged! 🖤

[abivolati]

an overcaffeinated teenage girl shares her thoughts on trump's economic policies

i’m no economist, but really???

It’s no surprise that Trump won because he capitalized on the fact that egg prices are up a bajillion percent. I’ve heard my mom complain about it long enough that I don’t have to verify.

With his concepts of a plan plans to ease my parent’s hearts in paying for “those unspeakable milk prices”, or the next bag of groceries, I have a few opinions.

TARRIFS!

This guy runs with the idea that protectionism will boost domestic activities, spike American production, reduce reliance on other nations, and bring much-needed revenue to calm our raging deficit.

So me and my AP macro teacher can tell you one of the first concepts you learn in econ 101 is tariffs pass the cost onto the consumer. AKA, you and me. Naturally, this is the whole point! Boosting domestic activities by making foreign goods look less desirable. But wait.

Again, econ 101 — higher prices cause demand to fall and instead redirect to lower-priced items. The substitutes for the foreign washing machines were American-made ones. And — econ 101 coming back — if a product faces higher demand, the price (FOR DOMESTING WASHING MACHINES!!!), rises. So we got a situation where the cost rose for everything.

Politicians love to harp about keeping government out of the economy, but when it comes to international trade...

That of course, doesn’t apply.

So now, when you see proposals to hike tariffs on our largest trade partners — namely, China, Mexico, and Canada, who “account for over 40% of the total value of all goods the U.S. imported,” it becomes awfully clear who’s gonna pay the price.

INTEREST RATES!

Along with the heaps of economic indicators the president said he’ll lower, interest rates are one of them. Making housing more affordable, and promoting homeownership… sounds good, right?

Uh. Wait. One problem: he can’t control the interest rate!!! That’s up to our friend Jerome Powell, the head of the Federal Reserve, who has repeatedly stated he won’t let Trump’s influence hinder the duties of the Fed (which is politically independent). Managing the economy is hard enough, and if you mix politics in it, what kind of messed-up stew would you get?

DEPORTATIONS!

Trump called out and outlined a mass deportation plan of undocumented migrants. We’ve heard it again and again and again. But what we don’t hear is that we’ll be deporting our, as defined by the U.S. Census Bureau, “construction laborers, maids and housekeepers, cooks, home health aides, and janitors and building cleaners.”

Yeah, sure, say “They’re stealing the jobs!” But just to clarify — they’re “stealing” the jobs that Americans don’t want.

And addressing whether deportations would be feasible or not, let’s not forget that moving millions would cost billions. $315 billion, in fact, for a conservative estimate. From arrests to detention camps to relocation, it would be one of the most costly endeavors of the Trump administration.

So maybe we don’t want to put huge tariffs on our biggest trade partners, attempt to control a part of the economy that isn’t controllable, or deport 11.7 million people. But hey, at least gas prices will be lowered (which by the way, is not likely to happen)!

[novantinuum]

Fandom: Steven Universe Rating: Teen Audiences Words: 3.8K~ Summary: A young human-Gem hybrid- a soul yet unknown to the rest of the Crystal Gems- takes their first brave steps towards greeting their heritage firsthand.

W o e, more OC content be upon ye

In this one, Jean meets Greg and the Crystal Gems. (There's a bit of Greg POV at the beginning, just to mix things up.) I had so much indulgent fun writing it, and hope anyone who checks it out enjoys.

Enjoy! <3

__

Absentmindedly humming a few bars of a commercial jingle he must’ve overheard on TV the other day, Greg finishes stirring up some instant oatmeal he just took out of the microwave. It’s a bit of a late breakfast for his tastes given the clock is nearing 10:45, but hey- anything’s better than nothing. Better to eat now than to find oneself running on low energy by lunchtime.

He licks his lips in anticipation, and carries the bowl over to the beach house’s living room couch.

Stars, what’s on his docket today beyond breakfast, anyways?

Groceries, for one. He’s running low on milk, butter, parmesan cheese, spaghetti sauce, and a number of vegetables. If he really wants to think ahead, now would also be a great time to stock up on bagels to toss in the freezer for later. No matter how many of those he buys, he always seems to be running out of ‘em. It’s also one of Steven’s days off from work, thus a good opportunity to try a video call. His son doesn’t always answer immediately, but that’s okay. He’s a grown adult now, a soul yearning to forge his own identity separate from the people and place he called home back in childhood. He needs his own space, and sometimes that just means ignoring your clingy ol’ man until you feel ready to chat.

And then, of course there’s his ongoing music project he can work on— a concept album of sorts, chronicling the tale of an optimistic, yet lonely young musician and his lover from beyond the stars. For nearly two decades her death silenced his work, but… seeing her framed face on the nightstand next to him every morning when he wakes up… living so close to the crystalline stage he knelt on when he sung his first romantic ballad to her… it must’ve stirred some aching desire that he hasn’t entertained in a very long while. He’s written about half of this album in the span of the last two months, and hopes to complete it by the end of the year. Beyond that he’s not sure where this project will take him… whether he’ll keep these songs close to his chest or email his old industry contact Sunshine Justice and see if she can hook him up with a decent recording studio for ‘em. Only time will tell, in the end. He’s got options.

But before he can get more than a few spoonfuls of oatmeal under his belt and reliably plan out his day, his musings are interrupted by a timid knock rapping against the front door.

Greg sighs, setting the bowl aside on the coffee table as he gets up to check who’s here.

If he had to guess, it’s most likely a recently arrived Gem— spellbound and confused— desperately trying to locate Little Homeschool after seeing one his son’s many adverts about it. That’s the most common visitor they see at the house entrance these days, beyond the rare training visit from Connie to refresh her sword fighting skills with Pearl. He’s not sure who else would go to all the trouble of hiking across the beach to reach this place. And anyways, if he’s visiting human friends in town, he always walks to their houses.

Which is why he’s surprised to open the door and see just… what seems to be a human stranger standing there, hands stuffed in pockets and expression filled with palpable apprehension.

The stranger is young— easily Steven’s age or younger— with a shock of short, wavy brown hair and teal tinted glasses, clad in overalls and a pair of ratty old tennis shoes.

He waves a quick greeting, a potent dose of curiosity painting his tone.

“Hi, uh… can I help you…?”

__

“Should I even be doing this?” Jean mutters to themself as they trudge down the far side of the beach, following the directions the cute pizza shop girl gave them last night.

But the closer they creep towards their destination, the sillier this whole stupid trip starts to feel. So they expect to… what? Simply drop in uninvited to the home of four of the most influential beings in the whole galaxy, and say “hey, guess what, you never knew I existed but I’m actually a half-Gem too?” Ughh. Oh, geeze. This was such a bad idea. Why did Dad even agree to bring them here? And what do they even want from this? To train? To harness whatever hypothetical powers they might have resting dormant within their gemstone? To… to just go on one of those zany, magical adventures they always dreamed about as a kid? To be freely invited into their little school for Gems? (Even though they’re not a Gem… not in all the ways that matter, at least.) Are they hoping to uproot their entire life and outright live here one day? Or are they literally only here because they’re craving closure to the questions they’ve been asking their entire life— who was Mother? Who am I? Is there any place in this vast universe for people like me?

What do I actually want to do with my life?

Heaving a long, exhausted sigh, they trek onwards anyways. After such a long road trip to reach this place, it’d be unthinkable to back down now.

A set of crumbled but monolithic stone arms come into view a few dozen paces further, a mere taster of the majestic vista awaiting them on the furthest point of the peninsula. Jean’s seen plenty of pictures of Beach City’s infamous temple statue online, sure— images of a regal, curly haired figure boasting enough limbs to rival a goddess— but nothing can prepare them for the sheer level of spellbinding awe that courses through their soul as they break around the edge of the cliff and finally gape upon it with their own two eyes. As melodramatic as the sentiment may sound, seeing this temple for themself is like tasting air for the first time, like waking up from a decade long fantasy to a world more vivid and colorful than they could’ve ever dreamed. Surely not a single photographer alive could capture the true scale of this ancient carving. A watery smile stretches across their cheeks while they drink in the sight. The cliffside is mossier than they expected. The earthy greens make for such lovely contrast against the colder browns and grays. Then, their gaze drops towards the statue’s navel… to the humble beach house nestled there within a set of stone arms.

Here it is. This is the place. There’s no turning back now, not unless they want to return to their motel room a coward.

Their hands fidget restlessly at their side as they climb up the sandy stairs leading to the porch. When they reach the top, they cross towards the front door and— heart pounding— rap their knuckles against the frame as politely as they can muster.

Beat.

Jean can hear the shuffling of feet from inside. They shove their hands in their pockets as the footfalls grow closer and closer, before—

The door swings open. Their expression narrows in bemusement. The person they’re greeted by isn’t one of the famed Crystal Gems, but rather… a human. A somewhat plain looking human, if they’re frank. (Which— in this situation— is a good thing, because it finally disarms the sheer spine tingling anxiety that was racing up and down through their veins prior.) The portly individual looks to be somewhere around their father’s age, with greying shoulder-length hair and a full beard. He’s sporting shorts and what looks to be a band t-shirt.

The man flashes a quick wave, and then speaks.

“Hi, uh… can I help you…?”

Jean scrunches their nose— a nervous twitch they’re unfortunately hyper-conscious of in high pressure situations like these— before working to piece together a halfway coherent sentence.

“I, um— y-you don’t know me, but my name is Jean. Jean Maverick, and I’m… well, I’m kinda hoping to—”

Before they can even reveal the crux of their mission, they feel this person’s full attention fixate upon the upper facets of their pale gemstone, just visible over the neckline of their shirt. His eyes widen.

“O-oh, yes,” they interrupt their own introduction, cheeks reddening. “That. Y’see, I may not look it, but I’m actually part Gem, like all the Gems who live here in town, a-and—”

He shakes his head, giving a laugh tinged with a bit of what they can only describe as sheer disbelief. “No, no, trust me— I more than understand this kinda stuff. I’m Greg Universe,” he says, extending his hand in greeting. “My, uh… my son’s like you.”

It’s Jean’s turn for their eyes to blow wide open with shock.

“You- you’re Steven’s dad,” they breathe, reaching out for his offered shake.

“Yup, guilty as charged. Now, what can I do for ‘ya? You looking for Steven? The Gems?”

“Well, I was hoping to talk with the Crystal Gems, b-but…” They pause, their brow wrinkling inwards as the ticking cogs of their mind consider the possible implications of their fellow hybrid’s father being present. “Steven’s not here now, is he? I heard he left town a while back…”

“Nah, he did. He’s out living on the west coast right now. The Gems, however… now that I can help you with.”

Introductory small-talk concluded, Mr. Universe invites them inside to wait for the Gems, grabbing his phone from his pocket to— they can only assume— shoot a quick text to one of ‘em.

Jean glances around the interior of the house with ample curiosity, admiring the dense collection of old CDs and cassette tapes that fills much of the shelf space behind the couch. It looks like mostly classic rock and a bit of R&B, many of them artists they don’t recognize. (Though the name Kerry Moonbeam leaps out at them— they remember jamming to a few of his top hits while on the road with Dad, like “Midnight Spectacle” and “Life on Venus.”) On the top shelf there’s an intricately detailed pink sword on display, shattered just beyond the hilt. And on the far wall midway up the stairs they spot a colorful canvas portrait, featuring what looks like a grinning, teenaged Steven sitting at the front and Garnet, Amethyst, and Pearl poised behind.

All in all, it’s a very cozy, lived-in space… enough so to almost distract them from the crystalline cavern connected directly to the living area. Their interest immediately piqued, they give a sharp exhale and advance a few steps closer. Is that…? Why, yes it is! It’s a warp pad, just like the ones they’ve seen pictures of online. (And one in person, thanks to a tip from a local.) From all their research it seems that there’s a whole network of these low, crystal platforms stretching across the surface of the Earth. And as rumors go, Gems can use them to travel from one point to another near instantaneously. Jean has no idea if this ability is one that translates to half-Gems, though. They had no luck with the one they visited years back.

Their mouth scrunches into a little frown upon that musing. There’s still so, so much about Gems they don’t know, isn’t there?

“So, Jean,” Mr. Universe says, finishing up with his phone. “Where’d you say you were from, again?”

“Prudence, Calizona?” And when his expression merely wrinkles in unawareness, they add: “It’s, um… a small university town out in the middle of the desert, so I’m not surprised you aven’t heard of it way out here.”

“And you traveled all the way to Beach City just to meet with the Gems? Wow, that’s… a pretty big journey for someone your age. This must be real important to you.”

“Well, there’s no Gems out there,” they explain with a shrug. “I’ve always known I was different, but— I never got to learn anything about that part of my heritage, y’know? So that’s why I’m here, I guess. For answers.”

“Well, I really hope you can find what you’re looking for.”

Jean’s gaze drifts down towards the gem inlaid in their chest. “Yeah,” they say, resting their palm over the central facet. “So do I.”

A tiny frown blooms across the man’s face as he observes them further. They rock back and forth upon their heels as they attempt to dodge his frustratingly intuitive gaze, unsure of what else to say or ask. Such lingering attention makes them feel twitchy.

“Here, why don’t you have a seat,” he offers then, gesturing towards the flat cushioned sofa against the far wall of the living area. “They should be inbound any minute now. Can’t imagine them dawdling on news like this, heh. And hey, uh… while you wait, d’ya want anything to drink, or snack on, or—?”

“I’m fine, thanks,” they say, sitting themself down on the far edge of the couch and noting the soggy bowl of oatmeal left half uneaten on the coffee table right in front. It’s bad enough that they’re crashing this man’s morning routine, the last thing they want to do is completely put him out. Not to mention, he probably doesn't have much they could safely digest, anyways.

True to his word though, the famed Crystal Gems arrive on the warp pad with not a second to waste, ringed in by a beam of dazzling cyan light and the platform’s resonant chime. Heart pounding a coward’s thrall, Jean averts their gaze low to keep from downright staring at the trio.

Holy fucking shit.

“We came as soon as we could,” the pale, lithe one— Pearl— says to Mr. Universe, crossing straight into the living room like a soul on a mission with the other two hot on her heels.

It’s them. It’s actually them. The Gems they’ve dreamt of meeting ever since they were just a starry-eyed preteen researching a small town mystery in the vicious trenches of obscure conspiracy theory message boards. Their jaw falls entirely ajar in the shock of it all. Oh stars, be cool, be cool, be cool—!

“—is our mystery visitor?” Pearl continues with a quick gesture towards them, the first half of her sentence consigned to auditory oblivion with how damn rapid fire Jean’s thoughts are blasting around their head.

Mr. Universe nods.

“Yeah, I was grabbin’ some breakfast, and she—” (they don’t bother to suppress that instinctive cringe. Hoo boy, they really need to step in and complete their introduction ASAP, huh)— “just showed up at the door, askin’ after you.”

“They,” Jean blurts out, mouth entirely dry with anxiety at this point.

“Huh?”

“It’s… they, actually. They/them. Sorry, I- I kinda forgot to mention.”

His brows shoot up in understanding. “Ahh, gotcha. My apologies for not asking. Anyways, these are the Gems! Garnet, Amethyst, and Pearl… though I get the sense you’ve already done your research, huh?”

They nod, still working to shake that hazy, star-stricken sensation out of their system.

“So then, mysterious stranger,” the shorter, purple Gem— Amethyst— says, sliding right across the living room towards them. “What’s your whole deal? Gimme all those good deets!”

“I, uh… well, I’m Jean,” they stammer, clasping their hands together behind their back. “Jean Maverick. I’m eighteen, I use they/them pronouns as I just mentioned, and… my mother… was a Gem.”

They tug down the scooped neckline of their shirt ever so slight, revealing the full cut of their pale lavender gemstone to the room. Pearl lets out an audible gasp. The other two simply gape in stunned silence, not uttering a single word at all.

“And now you probably understand why I called you over,” Mr. Universe comments, gesturing towards them.

“Another hybrid?” Amethyst says, her brow furrowing as she glances up at Garnet, the tallest of the bunch. “Like Steven? Is that even possible?”

“It is now,” Garnet replies with an almost mystified tone, crossing her arms as she leans back against the counter.

“But for a Gem to shapeshift human reproductive organs for that long,” Pearl muses, hand balled at her chin as she paces back and forth across the wooden slats. “Stars, for anyone but a diamond, that should be unachievable!”

The purple quartz simply waves the notion away. “Pshh, nah, that part’s easy, P- you just poof, and then reform with those organs! I do it with a stomach like, all the time. Mainly, I’m just surprised that another Gem would come up with the idea to have a baby in the first place.”

“Or that another Gem was living on Earth uncorrupted all this time, and we never knew,” Garnet comments, expression uncertain.

They swallow hard. Normally they consider themself pretty skilled at overanalyzing people’s emotions— an unexpected perk of living with generalized anxiety— but Garnet in particular is dauntingly hard for them to read right now. Pearl’s an easy one… she’s invested in the mystery of their arrival here today, too busy sorting the potential puzzle pieces in her mind to give anything else surrounding her much notice. Amethyst seems equally as puzzled by their presence, although out of the three of them it’s her who’s been the most accommodating of their awkwardness, so far. (Jean thinks back to how Amethyst leapt in amidst that weird conversational lull to give them a chance to officially introduce themself, and finds it rather perceptive of her.) Garnet, though—? Is her tense yet closed-off body language signaling confusion? (At how they could exist?) Vexation? (That they exist?) Distrust, even?? (That they’re here, now?) Or is she chewing over something else entirely, something they couldn’t ever hope to guess with their extremely limited outsider’s context?

And why do they care so much about how the three of them feel in the first place? Chill, Jean. Geeze.

“Well, if it helps,” they shrug, “my dad said he met my mother out in the wilderness of Calizona, while on a backpacking trip.”

“Calizona, eh…” Amethyst says, squinting as she thinks. “Hey, wait— the Beta Kindergarten’s out that way, yeah?”

“What exactly are you suggesting?” Pearl asks, her eyes lighting up with clear intrigue.

“I’m saying… isn’t it possible that Jean’s mom just emerged late… like me? It would explain how she avoided the corruption. And their gem does look pretty quartz-like.”

“Sounds like a more sound theory than I could ever come up with,” Mr. Universe pipes up all of a sudden with a broad shrug.

“In any case, all our broad theorizations can wait,” Garnet waves them all off. Inhaling deep, her gaze levels straight on them. “I know you came here with a purpose,” she says.

A blunt observation, not a question.

Jean shuffles upon their feet, feeling as exposed as a budding nerve under the sheer magnitude of their scrutiny. The half of them that’s merely a tangled ball of anxiety masquerading as a person craves nothing more than to spin on their heels and bolt away— too scared of potential rejection, too scared of all the unknowns bleeding through at the very edges of their future’s canvas— but then… this is what they drove hundreds of miles for, yes? Plus, they don’t want to disappoint Dad— he knows how much they’ve dreamed of this moment, and they’re sure it’d break his heart if they backed down right at the cusp of achieving said dream.

It’s now or never.

Deep breath. Hold your spine straight. Brave heart, Jean.

What do you really want?

“I… heard about your school,” they begin, weathering that treacherous unknown to make direct eye contact with each and every one of them in turn. “And I know the technical purpose of it is to teach Gems about humanity, but… I was wondering if maybe… you’d also be willing to teach a half-human how to be a Gem.”

“Hmm,” Pearl hums, leaning back against the counter at Garnet’s side. “Well, I suppose we already have a sort of human exchange program at Little Homeschool. Anyone who’s curious about the work we do there is allowed to spend a day on campus and attend whatever classes they wish, provided they give our students a quick informal lecture on a topic that interests them. Perhaps we could discuss developing a program like this that’s more long-term in nature, and customized to your needs as a half-Gem.”

Their mind reels in giddy circles at the very notion. Them? An official student of Little Homeschool?? It’s an alluring prospect, to be sure.

“Hey, y’all?” Amethyst cuts in before they can move to respond, upper lip curling into a half-grimace. “Not to like, totally derail, but I just checked the time and we’re gonna be late for the fusion seminar if we don’t start heading on back now.”

The tall, ivory Gem winces. “Oh stars, you’re right.” Then, glancing across the living space towards Mr. Universe with a somewhat apologetic expression: “Sorry, Greg— you caught us at a bit of a busy time. Do you mind entertaining our guest a little while longer as we finish up today’s classes?”

“Why don’t you just take them with you?” he suggests. “Seems they’re interested in what goes on there anyways.”

“Bismuth or Peridot may have time to give a tour,” Garnet voices, breaking her little understood silence. (Oh, a penny for her thoughts right now…)

Jean beams at the idea, a joyous little burst of energy soaring through their system upon realizing they’re one step closer to realizing that shining desire they set their eyes on the day the ocean’s disappearance kickstarted their research into their Gem heritage in the first place— to actually nurture and embrace this part of themself. “I’d love a chance to look around, if it’s not too much trouble.”

The three Crystal Gems ultimately approve, beckoning for them to join them on the warp pad. It takes every single scrap of self restraint within their soul to not do the cringiest little happy jig as they scuttle across the floorboards and step up onto the crystalline platform. Getting to experience a trip on one of these suckers is honestly a dream come true all on its own. They’ve seen one in person before— back during their forum-surfing research days, they managed to convince Dad to drive them all the way out to a lone warp pad a local enthusiast posted the coordinates of— but couldn’t manage to activate it on their own. Now, though? With the possibility of joining Little Homeschool officially on the table, there’s no telling what they may one day learn to achieve.  

Jean waves farewell to Mr. Universe as the warp activates, whisking the four of them away. It was super kind of him to take time out of his morning routine to help them contact the Gems— they’ll have to think of some meaningful gesture to thank him with later.

Pushing themself out of their comfort zone just to reach this point proved to be a bit of a challenge, but beyond the thorny confines of all their social anxieties, their future suddenly feels very bright.

[allthebrazilianpolitics]

Brazil consumer prices seen higher in Sept as drought bites, says Reuters poll

Brazil's consumer prices are expected to have risen in September after staying little changed in August, due partly to a severe drought which has hit agricultural output, a Reuters poll showed.

Above-target inflation prompted the central bank to stop an interest rate easing cycle earlier this year and then to hike rates last month, but some policymakers worry this may be of little help as long as public spending remains elevated.

The IPCA consumer price index for September, to be released on Wednesday, is forecast to have increased 0.46% from August and 4.43% from a year earlier, according to median forecasts from 22 economists polled Oct. 2-7.

Higher energy tariffs associated with lower reservoir levels at hydroelectric plants caused by a lack of rain, as well as increased cigarette prices, were two important drivers of faster inflation last month.

On top of that, "the first effects of the drought will put pressure on some food and beverage prices, such as fruit, meat, milk and dairy products, baked goods, drinks and infusions," said Bruno Imaizumi, an economist at LCA Consultores.

Continue reading.

[inlemoons]

feast

blue water, ch. 2: feast summary: His back is slick with sweat and the cool night air finally drifts through the open windows and kisses his skin, softer than he deserves. universe: OoT pairing: Zelda/Link rating: M

read on Ao3

Years later, Link’s drinking hasn’t ceased, and if asked he would insist that the forest follows him, the scent of pine and pepper and fairy magic grabbing ahold of his senses like a choking hand around a throat. He usually passes out afterwards. The barkeeps tolerate it, though--he’s still a dashing hero, surely worthy of his grand portraits in the castle. It must be difficult to hold such burdens.

Malon has never had pity for it, though. Tonight, she throws a wet rag flat on his face with an unceremonious plop and tells him to get your shit together, fairy boy and this is why I don’t visit you since you moved here, but she does help him into bed, pulling the covers up to his chin and setting a cup of water on the spartan nightstand.

In the morning, it’s fresh eggs and sweetbread studded with fruit. Malon looks beautiful, dressed in a green skirt and a silk scarf around her neck. She only dresses so fine when she is heading to the palace. The damp scent of the woods joins them at breakfast-- it’s so different from the cloying smell of a courtyard in the spring, and he’ll never escape this, will he?

~~~

The royal brats always like Link’s presence, running up to him when he joins them for a meal, curious eyes watching as he runs routines with the soldiers in the training yard. The eldest, already looking as though she will become a great beauty, watches him with a particular intensity, not with a shyness like so many girls her age. It is disconcertingly like her mother’s azure gaze and holds nothing of her father’s soft brown. Link imagines it is what Zelda might have looked like if it had been as it was supposed--standing on the parapets of the old castle as a girl of twelve, disheveled piles of weapons far beneath her feet as soldiers sparred to impress. The flow of time is cruel, indeed.

Dinner brings fine platters of soups and roasted meats and sumptuous cheeses flanked with molds of sparkling jellies, along with trays of breads and buttery vegetables. It is not a quiet affair, the royal children bickering and stumbling over their words to tell the Hero about their newest lessons and adventures, even as the eldest princess’ eyes bounce between her mother and Link with a gleam that he does not like. Their father is off on some diplomatic mission and it is not lost on Link that Zelda has little to say. It’s well into the meal when their eyes finally meet, her lids heavier than they had any right to be yet, and as he sips from another glass of Lon Lon’s Premier Milk, so drenched with vanilla-bean it was floral and deep, he wonders what he will feel more this time tomorrow-- the weight of her body on his, or the absence of it.

~~~

It’s so dark in the study, the kind of darkness that desires a cool wind instead of something so hot and stuffy. Sweat drips beneath her skirts. Link traces his tongue up her legs through the path of it and Zelda mewls above. She tastes like salt and vanilla soap and his lips attack the pearl between her legs with fervor. He hikes the fabric up until it bunches around her waist and nearly throws her onto the desk ...until a foot kicks against his shoulder and he stumbles back.

Her glinting eyes are blue and red ice. He groans.

“Fuck, Zelda, another one?” He buries back onto her again, though--gentler this time, even as daggers push into his chest.

Later, when they are done:

“You had a choice, you know.”

Link rolls over on his back and looks away. His back is slick with sweat and the cool night air finally drifts through the open windows and kisses his skin, softer than he deserves.

~~~

Tap tap tap tap tap

The eldest princess stares up at Link in the dark corridor. She was looking for him, he can already tell, and he crosses his arms instinctively. Golden candlelight flickers across her face as she lifts her chin to speak.

“What are you doing with my mother?” Except Link can tell that she knows--his limbs feel suddenly heavy, as though he’d climbed a thousand mountain peaks.

“You should be in bed, Princess.”

“You should be at the Lake. Away from here.” He hates her steely gaze. There really is nothing of the prince there.

a/n: god i am wondrous, updating two fics in a week

[mygainyear2024]

Day 47-48 From Coimbra, now in Porto

I sit writing with my second (make that third and then fourth) glass of a young port (5 years old). A gift from the airbnb host, from her family's vineyard.

Yesterday I caught the train from Coimbra to Porto (I arrived so early and then almost missed it as I was paying attention to the destination and not the train number. My train was going on to Braga and so arriving on time, whereas I was looking at the Porto train arriving later and the Uber driver told me the trains are often late so that's the story I told myself. I don't know what made me realise the train that was coming into the station was the one I needed to be on. I was sitting in the waiting room. I ended up sprinting across the tracks behind the train with two suitcases and a backpack. I just jumped on the first carriage, well maybe not jumped, as the steps are above the platform and a couple helped me lift up those cases. I breathed a sigh of relief. The conductor said "don't worry, so many people run for the train!")

After upending my belongings all over the apartment (it's the most disappointing one so far - fewer cooking facilities and no washing machine and quite cramped) I head for my first coffee recommendation off the Kava app and it did not disappoint - Protest Kitchen - I even love the name. They make me a perfect latte with fresh milk, and I can taste the flavour of the beans and what the hell, I also order a cinnamon roll with nuts and syrup, divine! As I've already shared on my FB page, it was a Harry Met Sally moment. I got some supplies from the reliable Pingo Doce supermarket chain and then headed for the gym (a little difficult to find but well worth the perseverance as they're having a special, only €10 for the whole month of May and they have gyms in Lisbon where I'm heading next). It is incredibly crowded and the bikes in the cycling studio look as old as some of the buildings in Porto, but it's only €10!

I get a chance to meet up with Michelle Loch (my coach mentor from 2011 and "neighbour" from Taringa days) and a group of her friends who are about to embark on an eight day hike around the Douro Valley. Now why didn't Eva (Upwork) think of that hike! We have a drink down by the Douro River and then head to a lovely restaurant, the shiraz is delicious. Sadly it's a tad cold here and has been raining on and off. And quite noticeably from the places I've already been, there's also too many tourists and crowds and they're all getting in the way of my pictures LOL!

The airbnb host gave me a long list of things to do and eat, as did today's Sandeman's walking tour guide. That added to the long list in the calendar section of my iphone, and now also I've set alarms to remind me! I am not going to scratch the surface in one week. I read a post that recommended just taking Porto as it comes and that's what I'm going to do. Accept that the list won't all be ticked.

After trying one of the best pastel de nata recommendations this morning and, according to the airbnb host, the best éclairs in the world this afternoon (I don't agree), there are so many restaurant recommendations, and most places are already pretty full or with queues out the door. So tonight I have some simple tapas and a large glass of red wine at the newly opened TimeOut markets next to São Bento station and then what the heck, I google best gelato in Porto and find Gelataria Portuense. I think I'd rate this the best gelato so far. I had the peanut and caramel and café and black sesame.

[facepalming-since-chernobyl]

I was laughing about it till I saw Peggy's comment about Mel looking really uncomfortable and now of course I feel bad. Imagine borderline netstalking a celeb to fulfill your batshit crazy fantasies because they'll never be fulfilled otherwise. So fucked up especially since I'm sure melwood wants to put the entire thing behind them and not ever have to interact again with supercraps who bullied and terrorized Chris. If it's any comfort to melwood, I hope they're at least laughing all the way to the bank. Melissa should hike up her cameo rate to $800 and clean them out.

Some other anons mentioned it and I'm pretty sure she can refuse something if she doesn't like it. Milking idiots who were assholes to her and her family? Karma

[lunarsilkscreen]

Fauxflation

On the back of my previous posts on bonds and the housing bubble and/or crisis, I'd like to describe a form of inflation happening that isn't direct inflation.

I've talked before about loan caps, and how bank debt (not to be confused with the country debt of 30trillion+ which is how we determine how much money the fed injects into the economy.) Can be used to inflate the country's debt outside of the control of the government (and thus outside the federal reserve's control).

Banks use debt as assets, they trade them like they would money, because they expect the money to be paid back. However, they are also allowed to give out loans based on the debt they control, and thus expect to be paid back. (This is part of the problem with bonds in 2008).

Banks loans money to Steve, and based on how Steve pays that loan back, the bank is then allowed to loan money to Geoff. Sometimes at the expected interest they expect to make from Steve. And if Geoff is paying back the bank regularly, the bank is able to make another loan out to a third person: Jenny.

If you're tracking; that means the bank has given out three loans based on one pool of money. Effectively tripling that original pool, until those loans are paid back. Which would both cause inflation while the loans are in circulation, and deflation should they be paid back, or even forgiven.

This should be controlled by the digital debt ceiling that the fed allows banks to loan against. *Should* being the operative word.

That's only part of the fauxflation equation.

The next part is companies, who have taken these loans, and are selling goods to end users. They borrow against interest rates and if the interest rates are high, that also compounds inflation. (More money is expected to pay back that initial loan. Thus creating an drain on the revenue of those companies.)

How do those companies make money? They charge the end user more and more. As much money as they are willing to pay. Companies have said as much: "They are willing to charge as much as the customers can afford".

The U.S. subsidizes certain products in order to keep prices down, and to account for increased demand. So that parents can feed their children. It's funny that even those products are starting to see insane price hikes. From $1.50 for a quart of milk to nearly $5 over the course of the past few years.

That's with the subsidies that they get to sell those products.

Simultaneously, corporate profits are at a record high.

Now, I'm going to take this time to explain why record profits might not *actually* be profit. Please bear with me it's stupid. I know.

Many loans have increased, or lowered fees after a certain time period of one-time payments. If companies have taken a loan out like you would on a credit card: "0% APR for 12 months, and then 30% annual after that". That means their payment of their loan is included on their revenue sheet

Some loans, like a car or house loan have a maximum interest based on the term of the loan. And your credit score is based on paying that interest back on time, not early, not late. If you have a six year loan, it's in your best interest to pay it back in six years. So that you have good credit for a better loan after that.

Any Earlier and the banks know that you won't be making them enough money to bother.

But if the company is making record profits, it might behoove them to include that in their future projections. If that APR kicks in at a higher % like on your credit card, then they have to hang onto that profit, possibly invest it (to try to keep up with the APR) because they know they'll be paying back that interest at a later date, since they won't be paying the whole thing off this year.

Basically: what happens if you only make minimum payments on your credit card?

With wage hikes, and with high interest, and with both of those causing fauxflation: you can see where the problem point in this chain is:

Whatever money is owed back to the banks

Now, why do the banks include things like APR increases in some products and not others? They believe it's an effective stick to the loan's carrot. They believe that you'll be encouraged to pay it back at that point, and they have calculations to prove it. (Remember what I said about banks creating higher loans to pay off lower loans because of housing inflation? That circle-k?)

They have a decade of data saying that their loans all got paid off.

So when it comes time that the economy can't handle their projections, because they ommitted the data where things like this happened last time. (Too long ago, who cares)

It's easy to say "we couldn't have accounted for this".

And it's plausible because who accounts for data that long ago?

[cntrl15]

Pride - Cissatrix

Rated T. 800 words. June 11th prompt: "Pride", from @sapphicmicrofics.

The Burren is a strange and wild place, and I love it with all my soul. I think in some unconscious part of her she always knew I’d need to be reborn in a place like this, or else by sheer luck she took these cottages for her inheritance. The bones of the earth climb out of their graves here, and the green grasses grow in tufted rows from every shaded crevice. I would not have chosen so well; I would have thrown myself into a dank and shaded corner to lick my wounds, and pieced together all my broken edges in just the same jagged ways they were broken before. That urge still tugs at me in fact, and I am saved only by scarcity, by the lack of time or practical energy to indulge in it, because above all this is a peopled place: a place with so long and thick a living history that it seeps from the stones and sings along with the moaning wind. They come in hundreds and thousands for this, by thronging busloads and eight-seater family minivans and pack-laden bicycles, to see the walls and tombs and churches of those that came before them, to walk the bare stone hills where human hands piled stone on stone and plucked weeds and milked cattle and rose up in supplication to the heavens.

Muggles. When I’m not consciously watching myself, the word still comes out of my mouth with an instinctive twisting sneer. But I’m watching it more often, and I catch myself more often, and I think to use it less often in the first place. People is a better word. I still get a buzz of discomfort around them, a sly and subtle insistence that these are other, these are not of my blood, these are not myself. But something drives me to watch them now, to see, and I’ve learned to see so much. I see the threadbare poor at the grocer’s counting by the half penny to pay for half empty bags. I see the frantic children in light-up sneakers racing their way up packed trails, kicking loose rocks off the road, and the plodding parents carrying them back down a half hour later. I see mindless lovers plucking flowers from the stems of rare grasses that will only bloom once in a decade. I see all these terrible, beautiful creatures and I remember a feeling I lost or never had before, that I am so much the same, one more dying creature amongst all this mortal multitude, all of us searching desperately for a life to fill our dying with.

---

Narcissa lives with Lucius, maintaining by all accounts a very happy marriage. They struggled for a time, without his name and money, but unlike so many of his once peers, the stripping bare of him made for a better man. He’s a landlord of course, but a more vulgar sort, renting out half the cottages to vacationing witches and wizards. He keeps the ledgers and maintains the properties himself, making for quite the picture of a strapping fellow in his landscaping attire. He finds a plain satisfaction in the work and doesn’t feel he has to hide the fact. His tenants make fewer complaints than most.

Draco has his own family now, and doesn’t often remember to write. They visit by floo a few times a year. Less than that, now that they’re drowning in newborns, but they always make it for the holidays.

Narcissa herself is the least changed of us all. Not exactly as she was, but less in the way of having been twisted into a new shape and more like a spring gradually unwound. She got us all here, one of the rare families that made it through the war in one piece, and she doesn’t let any of us forget it. Her rule is a little less regal and a little more maternal; she wears less makeup and spends more time in the sun. I’m learning to live without her, and to do it without the fits of desperate pining. We have lunches together once a week, and every first weekend of the month we take an honest-to-goodness hike, boots and packs and all, out into the rocky hills. Laying on bedrock, looking at the stars, it’s easier to say the things we never did. I make plain the kind of love I had for her, and the horrible pedestal I put her on. We talk about who we were and who we are and who we are yet to be, and finally, after half a lifetime of blind worship, I see her. We lay with our fingers barely touching, just enough to be alive and together, and she tells me she’s proud of me.

End of a series. Link to AO3

[delibean43]

Love Bites (Short Story)

I couldn’t help but to walk down the dark hallway, something about it felt familiar…as if I had been there before. Everything was familiar, the dark green carpet, the cool blue walls that have dusty pictures hanging everywhere.  I could hear loud, sloppy, and wet crunches coming from a room. I wanted to stop, yet I couldn’t,  with each step I got closer. With each step, the faint outlines of painted ducks could be seen on the dark navy blue door. “Mallory.” I looked around, stopping right in front of the door. 

“Hello?” I wasn’t scared, yet my voice trembled as I spoke. The wet crunching stopped, and a thud could be heard in the room. 

“Mallory.” The voice echoed across the room, yet outside of the room at the same time. It was inside my head, but it was also as if someone spoke to me. 

“Where are you?” I could feel the hair on my arms stand, and my heart rate had begun to quicken. 

“Mallory!” I jumped up and looked around, it was dark the only light was the fire that at that point was just hot coals, the small light that they emitted caused a warm glow on the edge of the trees that surrounded us…yes that's right, us. I looked to my side, and there sat her, Mia.

“Mallory, we have to get going, the dead are on their way.”  as she spoke I looked at her, taking her in. Her dark curly hair. With her deep brown eyes, are reflected colors from the fire that I don’t think I’d ever seen before. 

“Mallory, now!” the urgency in her voice was growing more, I guess it is time for us to head out. 

“Yes, sorry. I’ll start packing.” I get up and roll up the bed rolls. I peek over at Mia, who is packing our hammocks, I couldn’t help the small smile spread across my lips, not feeling too worried since we tried not sticking to one place at a time so I knew how to be able to appreciate Mia and pack at the same time. I decided to gather the rain bowls, rain being the best source of water since we entered the forest. Grabbing the rim of the large pottery bowels, I see my reflection of myself. My hair, dark from dirt and dried blood is starting to become matted, and my skin is a dark tan from being outside non-stop for nearly five years now.

 “Mallory, hurry up.” I look up at her, she stands above me, arms crossed. 

“Mia,  just go ahead without me, I’ll catch up. We both know I'm quick.” Mia frowns as if disappointed in what I chose to say. “Go on, I just have to put the water into bottles.” With a sigh, Mia stares at me, before walking off in the same direction we had been walking for days.

I quickly get on with what I was doing, unzipping my blue hiking backpack  I dig out the banana yellow funnel and the rinsed-out milk jugs. Carefully I pour the water into the jugs, to not waste a drop of such a currently scarce resource.  I watched the clear liquid quickly fill the jug, A twig snap caught my attention, and as I turned around I was pushed onto my back with full force. 

As I open my eyes I was greeted with the sight of a rotting face, his teeth making snapping noises at every attempt to bite me. I try kicking him off of me, but whoever the fuck this guy was before he died, he must have been a pro athlete or something. I struggled to push him off, it felt like a rabid wolf was attacking me for going after its prey I try scooting back, only to take a bit of a tumble down an indented part of the ground. The dead man follows me down, as we tumble I try kicking him off, which was harder than it sounds. As we reach the bottom, he's back on top of me, everything sore with the tumble all I could do was try to kick him off.  Shifting,  I felt something poke into my side, sharp enough to cause discomfort, so I grabbed it and stabbed it into his head. The sharp object, being some sharp rock, smashed into his skull as if the bone was made of butter. 

It took a second to snap out of this adrenaline-infused survival mode. The only thing that brought me out of it was the feeling of the blood dripping down my arm. Lifting the dark blue flannel, the indentations of teeth with swelling pools of dark crimson blood revealed itself to the world.  I stare at the taunting wound, it's like a badge for failure, the failure to survive, to grow old with Mia…Mia, she’s waiting for me. I climb up the small hill and grab the other pottery bowl and an extra cloth we have, dampening it I clean off any excess dirt and blood. The wet cloth smears the dark crimson blood around before being wiped completely off for the most part. Rummaging through my bag, I find used ripped pieces of cloth that were long enough to wrap around my arm.  It doesn't have to be pretty, it just has to be good enough so that Mia doesn’t know. She can’t know, it's only been a year since…I can’t leave quite yet…we are by my old home, before this all began. We can head there and stay the night. Pulling down my sleeve, I start following the tracks Mia had left behind.

I can't help but get lost in my thoughts as I walk with the footprints, plans, and ideas rolling into my ideas, but they are all the same, how to guide Mia to a safe spot without her finding out. I look up and see a headful of brown curly hair. I stand still, all possible futures of us together, the ones I had thought about, seemed to crumble before my eyes. I rub my eyes, to make sure I didn't have any tears on my cheeks and put on my poker face. 

“Mia!” I run towards her, and she quickly turns around, tightening her grip around the machete, one that was a wedding gift from before.

“Mallory, what took you so long?” Her eyes filled with worry, and I wanted to kiss the worry away. 

I look at her, taking a second to find a reasonable excuse, it is getting warmer so they are speeding up. “Nothing really, I was scouting the dead. We need to get moving, they’re faster than we thought.” I pause, trying to choose my next words so I don’t raise suspicion. “We should hide out in a house, let the dead pass by. I rather not risk us getting caught.” Mia looked at me, before nodding to the suggestion. 

 “Okay, but we have to figure out which house is likely to be unlocked, I don't want to break any windows, or get stuck outside when they’re coming through.” She continues walking ahead. 

I forced a smile at her, trying to ignore the pain of a fresh wound. “ I know a place, it shouldn’t be locked.” 

Mia looks at me with her eyebrows furrowed, confusion seemed to shine in her eyes. “You know a place? Are you okay? You can never decide on a specific location when we are near town.” I could only chuckle, and started walking ahead of her, she’ll need me to lead the way anyway. A voice deep down tells me that I will have to let her lead herself soon anyway.

Walking into the suburban neighborhood, it feels like my legs will cause me to head in another direction against my will. I can feel the sweat drip down my forehead, but I can't tell if it's correlated to my legs, or if the virus is trying to make itself known. My heart tries beating its way through my chest, and with each step, I take I notice more and more things about the neighborhood.  The bodies of the dead, dead for good this time, litter the sidewalks. Pools of a mixture of old dark blood and fresh light blood stain almost any surface that could be reached. 

Cars, abandoned and destroyed, are scatted into yards, or in the middle of the road, suitcases lay open after years of abandonment, and some houses are falling apart as if the wind would blow them over at any second. 

“It's hard to believe it's been six years” I look over at Mia, a frown gracing her lips. “Mallory, is something wrong?” 

I shake my head, and force a smile to ease her worries “I’m fine Mia, just…trying to remember the address.”  Mia crosses her arms but doesn’t say a word as we continue down the cracked road, of course keeping an eye on everything around us. 

As we approach the house, the feeling that was consuming my body was starting to become painful. The two-story house, with its light blue wooden exterior, stood tall in front of us. The once welcoming short dark brown porch with the metal swinging bench, but I doubt it was doing much swinging with the left chain being broken. 

“We shouldn’t stay out here too long,” Mia spoke out. “It's getting dark, and we still need to secure all the entrances before we can wait this out.”  I simply nod and walk onto the rotting porch, making sure to avoid the more visibility rotten spots.  As my hand touched the rusted gold doorknob, the sound of crumbling wood and a thud, I turn around…and there sits Mia, now under the porch, a giant hole replacing the wood on where she once stood. I couldn’t help but let a bubble of laughter escape my lips.  Mia’s face turned a bright red, she quickly stood up and climbed back onto the porch. “Let's just get inside.” I felt the wind from her rushing by, and the click of the knob as Mia opened the door.  

The door gave way to a black pit, void of any light. It suddenly felt like 80-pound weights were put on my chest, making me unable to breathe. No matter how deep I tried to breathe it seemed as if no oxygen was reaching my lungs.  Everything became muffled, drowned out by the ringing in my ears. I felt pressure on my arm, and looking up I see Mia, those soft brown eyes staring back at me, her beautiful face full of worry. That's the last thing I see before the world goes just as black. 

I quickly sit up, looking around. I'm in my bed, with the soft navy blue comforter and the matching pillows behind me.  I get up, and walk over to the window, looking outside.  Instead of being greeted by blood and the dead outside, I see... The clean streets, with children outside, laughing and playing. 

“Good morning, babe.” I quickly turn around and look at…him. My husband. 

“Liam, where is ᏠᏗፈᏦ?” I ask quickly, Liam smiles and walks over, holding a mug full of coffee, he kisses me gently on the lips, before pulling away. 

“ᏠᏗፈᏦ is just taking a nap, Mal.” I look at him for a few seconds, his tan skin seeming so much lighter than I remember. I pause for a second before taking a deep breath. It was just a sick twisted dream after all. 

“Im going to go wake him up, we have things to do today.” I slip on the grey bunny slippers, the pair Liam bought for our anniversary, and head out of the bedroom. The dark green carpet softened my steps, as I approach his room. I can't help but run my hand down the cool blue walls.  Eventually, I stood in front of the door, the dark navy blue door with the painted rubber ducks on it. A sudden cry and a gunshot make me jump, and suddenly, in a blink of an eye, the hallway is dark and dusty, the paint trying to chip off of every surface. I try to open the door, frantically trying to kick it down, but it's like it's cemented into the wall.

A burning sensation on my arm causes me to look down, and I am greeted with the sight  of a chunk of my flesh bitten out of it, with the blood pouring down it. The blood pools at my feet, covering too much ground to be humanly possible.  A sudden sense of nausea hits, and in the corner of my eye, I see someone standing, watching me. 

I look up and see Liam, he stands there, his hands covered in blood, a gun in his hand. “Liam,” I am careful, one wrong word and I might end up puking. “I'm only going to ask once more time, where is ᏠᏗፈᏦ?” I am careful, watching him, watching his moves. He is taking slow, shudder-filled, breaths. In front of me isn’t my husband, but a shattered and broken man. 

“Liam-” He cuts me off, and the anger in his voice shakes me to my core. 

“You were supposed to make sure the backyard was secure Mal! It's your fault- it’s your fault!” 

“I didn't know-!” I tried to defend myself before I was interrupted.

“Shut up Mal!” he takes a deep breath before sobs wrack his body. He points his gun at me, aiming at my head. “ᏠᏗፈᏦ died because you were reckless, I don’t deserve this hell, but you? You deserve worse than hell.”  before I could say another word, with a swift motion I watch him raise the gun to his head and paint the walls, and Our wedding photo red. The same feeling, the one I had earlier, the inability to breathe to see, hear, or think, comes crashing into me. I run out, and can't help but spill out all the contents onto the porch. By the time I am done, by the time I can look up, I see the blood and guts painting the roads and lawns. I look out into the road, and there she stands, Mia. 

I want to shout out her name, I want to ask her what's happening, why is it happening all over again, yet no words come out. I try to go inside, to grab a knife, a gun, or any sort of weapon; yet all that happens is my legs slowly moving towards Mia. She doesn’t notice me, and I seem to have no control over what I am doing, no control over anything but the mind that I am currently losing. As soon as I get close enough, I grab at her, she tries fighting me off, but that doesn't stop me from ripping into her flesh, and her screams echo across the neighborhood. 

  I jump up awake, and the only thing I can hear in the room is my heavy breathing. I look around and I am sitting on a mattress in the middle of my- no, the living room. I get up, noticing the burning sensation where the bite mark should be, yet I could care less, I need to find Mia before I can let myself care. I walk out into the hall and hear a noise in the kitchen. I quietly draw out my pocket knife and slowly inch into the kitchen. Mia is in the kitchen, searching the cupboards and I sigh in relief, “Mia.” she turns around quickly, looking at her tear-stained cheeks that make the haunting screams from my dream ring in my head.  

“Mallory!” she quickly rushes over and hugs me tightly, and I can't help but hug back just as tight. “I was so worried, you weren’t responding, and then- you just suddenly fainted.” She looks at me, and then suddenly punches me in the shoulder. “Don’t ever do that again! Do you understand!?” I wince, at both the punch and being yelled at, and nod. 

“Sorry for worrying you…I guess the constant walking did a number on me.” I look around and think…I have maybe a full 12 hours to live. If I'm lucky maybe longer. We have candles in the bags and canned food. “How about we have a date night? To celebrate being stationary for a bit. We have the tortilla chips and the can of refried beans that we have been saving.” I look at her, and it's clear that she is thinking about it, with how her eyebrows furrow and her lips go in a pouty-like shape,

“Okay,” she begins, “But we are not using the scented candles! Use the long white ones, I’ll get the chips and beans.” I watch her walk out of the room… before realizing that I needed to follow her to get the candles anyway. 

        With everything set up, we quietly eat the chips and beans, glancing at each other every once in a while. “Remember when we first met?” she seems startled out of her train of thought. 

“Of course I do” she looks at me, a soft smile gracing her lips, “You fell asleep in my old bunkers trash can. I thought you were a raccoon until I almost stabbed you.” 

I smile at the last part. “Wow Mia, animal cruelty? In today’s society?”

She simply shakes her head and smiles wider, “Mallory, you really are something else.”

“I know,” I reply, watching her, before leaning in for a kiss. Mia obliges, and for what feels like a much too short amount of time, I feel her lips against mine. “I love you.” I wish I could say a thousand more love you’s, I wish I had the time to. 

“I love you too.” I want to tell her that this may be the last time I could ever hear her say that, I want to tell her about the bite, about all of it. It’s better this way, that’s what I keep telling myself, it's better that she doesn’t dwell on it, if I were to tell her now, she would want to leave with me, and I can’t let that happen. 

` “Can I join you? I'm not tired but... I would enjoy a cuddle before I stand watch.” I  look a Mia, her deep brown eyes staring at me before that beautiful smile of hers graced her lips.

“Come on Mallie, let's get your big girl cuddles in” I blush heavily at her teasing, and throw a pillow at her face, her laugh echoing throughout the rooms. She smiles at me and heads to the living room, I help her pull out the sleeping bags and blankets we have. We zip the sleeping bags together, making it big enough for three people despite there only being us. We get in the sleeping bag and wrap my arms wrapped around Mia. Her body feels so cool against mine. It makes me glad I always felt warm, even before the bite, before the fever.  I felt her deep breaths slowly turn into the usual slow breaths after not too long. I nuzzled my face into the back of her neck, enjoying the peacefulness despite the imminent danger outside the walls. I took a deep breath of her scent before the haunting screams from my dream came back. I forced myself away, lightheadedness almost making me fall over as I sit up. Mia is asleep, and if I die by this damned bite, I could kill her. I can’t be the reason why another person dies, not again. I get up, leaning against the wall for support so I don’t fall over.  Slowly shuffling to the kitchen, I search through the unattended backpack we had left.

I pull out a little voice recorder we have, once used to help lure the dead away when needed. I go to grab the gun but hesitate, looking out the window I can see the dead walking around, the low noises from their destroyed throats could be heard even through the walls I take the knife instead, knowing I wouldn’t be able to climb a chair for the rope to work, this was the quietest option.  I slowly shuffle down that damned hallway, with the dark green carpet and blue walls. I glance at the wedding photo that has hung forgotten for years, the blood now a dark brown. I stare for a second, looking in between the blood spots, looking at myself in the white dress that took me hours to find. I take a deep breath and move forward to the end of the hall,  and stare at the dark navy blue door, with the little ducks. I stand there, hearing the sick wet crunches coming through the door just like they did six years ago.  I open the door, barely pushing it open, the hinges squeak loudly from the lack of use.  I look at the nursery, the baby blue walls peeling just like the hall walls, everything covered in thick layers of dust. I look at the giant block decore above the white crib, each of the five blocks spelling out his name. I avoid looking directly into the crib, knowing that if I do I’ll see the bones of someone who wasn’t even old enough to comprehend death, who deserved a chance to survive as I did. I go to move forward, before falling onto the ground, the carpet manages to muffle it enough that there is no clear sign of Mia or the dead hearing it. I push myself up, slowly shuffle to the rocking chair, and fall into it. I sit there, looking at everything, rocking to my slow heartbeat. This was once a place that filled people with laughter and excitement, but now I fear it is the home of tears and pain. 

I grab the voice recorder and hit play. It will hold a final goodbye to Mia, to life, all on such a small device.  “Mia, I know it doesn’t make sense why I decided to do this. The truth is... the truth is I was bitten, almost two days ago now.” I take a deep breath, I already feel like I'm suffocating. “At the time I am recording this, I can already feel the virus taking over my body, I can feel myself slipping away. You have every right to be angry with me, I understand if you despised me after this. You could say I chose the coward's way, and you could be right, but all I know is that I love you. I love you so much it hurts, you don’t know how in many ways you saved me.” I take a deep shaky breath which leads to a coughing fit, and a metallic taste fills my mouth. I look down at my hand and what greets me is bright crimson-red blood, pooling into the lines of my hand. The realization that I'm dying, that I won't live long enough to see the next sunrise, finally hits me like a truck. I can’t help the thick tears that roll down my cheeks. I look back at the recorder and continue. 

“You lost your sister earlier this year, and I know it still hurts and this will hurt too, but I need you to do something for me, Mia. I need you to live, I need you to find others and live in a community. I don’t want you to just survive as we did, I want you to be able to let your guard down, and laugh as if the world didn’t end six years ago…. There is a secret basement under the stairs, the code is..my son’s, Jack, birthday, 0826015. There should be maps, maybe leftover supplies, I’m not sure anymore.” I look at the door, expecting Mia to barge through at any minute, or expecting to wake up, for this to all be a dream. “When you find me, I ask you don’t move me. I want this room to be my final resting place.” I couldn’t help the sob escape my throat “Im sorry, and I will always love you.” 

I hit stop on the recorder and take out the knife. Aiming the sharp end of it at my temple. A sudden calmness washed over me, and it was like I didn’t fear death. I look at that dark navy blue door with those silly little baby ducks, and I can only hope that I can see Jack once more. 

[visionarycios]

Putin Acknowledges Alarming Inflation and Economic Overheating in Russia

https://visionarycios.com/wp-content/uploads/2024/12/1-Putin-Acknowledges-Alarming-Inflation-and-Economic-Overheating-in-Russia-Source-straitstimes.com_.jpg

Source: straitstimes.com

Russian President Vladimir Putin has admitted that inflation is becoming a significant issue for the country, signaling concerns about an overheating economy. Speaking during his annual Direct Line Q&A session with Russian citizens on Thursday, Putin acknowledged the problem and emphasized that steps are being taken to address it.

He pointed out that inflation, coupled with economic overheating, is being actively tackled by both the government and the central bank. Russia’s consumer price index climbed to 8.9% in November compared to the same period last year, up from 8.5% in October. This surge has primarily been driven by increasing food prices, particularly the cost of milk and dairy products, which have risen sharply in 2023.

Factors Behind Rising Inflation

A weaker ruble, exacerbated by new U.S. sanctions imposed in November, has contributed to the inflationary pressures by increasing the cost of imports. Additionally, a massive rise in military spending has caused shortages in labor, supplies, and production in other sectors, further driving up prices. These economic pressures have also led to demands for higher wages.

Putin acknowledged inflation as an alarming signal. He shared that he had discussed the situation with Elvira Nabiullina, chairperson of the Russian Central Bank. According to their discussion, inflation had already risen to 9.3%. However, he emphasized that wages had grown by 9% in real terms, after adjusting for inflation, and that disposable income for the population had also increased.

Central Bank’s Response and Interest Rates

In response to persistent inflation, Russia’s central bank is expected to raise its benchmark interest rate by 200 basis points, taking it to 23%. This would be the highest level in a decade, surpassing the 20% rate seen during the 2022 invasion of Ukraine. The interest rate hike is aimed at addressing inflation in the country’s war-driven economy.

Russian President Vladimir Putin partially blamed international sanctions for rising prices, stating that while external restrictions and sanctions have an impact by increasing logistics costs, they are not the primary reason for inflation. He also criticized the central bank, suggesting that other tools beyond interest rate hikes could have been employed to manage inflation more effectively.

The president admitted that there were subjective factors and shortcomings in managing the economy. He stated that earlier decisions could have helped mitigate the current price increases. Despite these challenges, Putin expressed optimism that maintaining macroeconomic stability would allow Russia to overcome inflationary pressures.

Economic Outlook and Growth Projections

Russian President Vladimir Putin also outlined the government and central bank’s goal of achieving a soft landing for the economy, emphasizing that the economy was performing well overall. He predicted that Russia’s economic growth for 2023 would reach 3.9-4%.

The International Monetary Fund (IMF) offered a slightly lower projection, forecasting Russia’s economic growth at 3.6% for this year. However, the IMF expects growth to decelerate to 1.3% in 2025 due to slowing private consumption and investment, as well as reduced labor market tightness and slower wage growth.

Looking ahead, Putin estimated that Russia’s economic growth would range between 2% and 2.5% in 2024, signaling confidence in the country’s ability to navigate its economic challenges. Despite the hurdles posed by inflation and international sanctions, he remains optimistic about the resilience and stability of the Russian economy.

[rainbowmod]

Kimiko: ......*She gets off Carrel* I'm going to go work out now..... *She puts on a home excerise tape and starts doing ab excerises and working out. She's only been eating 1,000 calories a day. She's actually developing an eating disorder. And constantly working out every second she even thinks about her weight. At this rate she might not be able to produce breast milk*

Riju: It's very hard at first, but when you see it in the wild. You'll be able too.

Mom: Riju, Link you both ready to go on the hike? *She was wearing a backpack and had on a good hiking outfit. Unlike your Mom she wasn't afraid of getting messy*

[josephpatrickroop]

A Brief Overview of Inflation in July 2024 in the United States

A July 2024 CNN article reported that the Consumer Price Index had dropped below 3 percent, an indication that inflation has slowed down. The article said this shows improvements in the economy.

In June 2022, inflation sat at 9 percent. By January 2024, it had dropped to 3.4 percent. In addition to the lower inflation rate, Americans have started earning more money. According to a January 2024 PBS article, paychecks outpaced inflation in the past year, with middle-income earners seeing a hike of 2.2 percent in 2023 after adjusting for inflation. Furthermore, inflation-adjusted pay remains 2.5 percent higher than before the pandemic.

While inflation has dropped and wages have increased, some areas have not seen improvements, such as overall prices. Prices remain 17 percent higher than in 2021, except for some goods. For example, in August 2022, grocery inflation was 13.5 percent, but by January 2024, it dropped to 1.3 percent. Even with the significant drop, prices remain high. The average basket of groceries costs 20 percent more than in 2021. On average, chicken (up 25 percent), milk (up 18 percent), and bread remain high.

Rental costs have also seen elevated prices, 6.5 percent higher than January 2023, double before the pandemic. Nonetheless, according to the January 2024 PBS article, many Americans have a positive economic outlook despite these challenges.

This message is not meant to be a recommendation or solicitation. Before investing, consult with your financial advisor, CPA, and attorney. “Investment advisory services are offered through Fusion Capital Management, an SEC- registered investment advisor. The firm only transacts business in states where it is properly registered or is excluded or exempted from registration requirements. SEC registration is not an endorsement of the firm by the commission and does not mean that the advisor has attained a specific level of skill or ability. All investment strategies have the potential for profit or loss.

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Master EURAUD with PPI Secrets The Hidden Formula Only Experts Use: EURAUD + PPI Decoded Imagine your trading strategy as a top-tier cappuccino: you’ve got the espresso shot (EURAUD), the frothy milk (Producer Price Index, or PPI), and maybe even a sprinkle of cinnamon (your unique edge). When brewed together perfectly, the results are nothing short of delightful. But without precision, it’s just another lukewarm latte nobody asked for. Let’s turn that caffeine into cash with some next-level tactics that leverage EURAUD and PPI data like never before. The EURAUD Puzzle: Why This Pair Matters EURAUD is the poster child of economic disparity, a constant tug-of-war between two fundamentally different economies: the Eurozone and Australia. It’s a battlefield where central bank policies, commodity prices, and economic indicators collide. Why should this pair be on your radar? Because it’s predictable if you know where to look. Let’s break down the basics: - The Eurozone relies heavily on industrial output and services. - Australia is commodity-driven, with its economy tied to exports like iron ore and coal. This dichotomy means economic indicators, like the Producer Price Index (PPI), hit these economies differently. And understanding PPI is your secret weapon. What Even Is PPI? And Why Should You Care? PPI measures the average change over time in selling prices received by domestic producers for their output. In simpler terms: it’s the cost producers are charging before products hit the shelves. Think of it as a crystal ball for inflation. When the PPI rises, inflation usually follows. For EURAUD traders, this translates to: - Higher PPI in Australia: Signals potential rate hikes by the Reserve Bank of Australia (RBA), boosting AUD. - Higher PPI in the Eurozone: The European Central Bank (ECB) may follow suit, strengthening EUR. Understanding these dynamics is crucial to anticipate central bank reactions and market moves. It’s like seeing the plot twist before it happens in a movie—pure trader bliss. The Ninja Tactics: Trading EURAUD with PPI 1. The Pre-Release Anticipation Play Ever notice how markets go wild before major economic releases? That’s traders positioning themselves based on forecasts. You can do the same: - Monitor forecasts: Check expected PPI figures for both the Eurozone and Australia. - Compare trends: If one region’s PPI has consistently outperformed, expect strength in its currency. - Set alerts: Use tools to notify you of deviations from expected values. Example: If Australia’s PPI comes in hotter than expected, prepare for a potential AUD rally against the Euro. 2. The Divergence Detection Strategy Divergence occurs when one economy’s PPI trends upwards while the other stagnates or declines. This creates trading opportunities: - Bullish EURAUD: Eurozone PPI rises while Australian PPI lags. - Bearish EURAUD: Australian PPI surges while Eurozone data disappoints. Pro Tip: Use tools like economic calendars and overlay PPI trends on your charts for visual clarity. 3. The Post-Release Reaction Game Trading post-release is like jumping into the action after the dust settles: - Observe the initial market reaction: Did EURAUD spike or drop? Look for overreactions to exploit. - Wait for confirmation: Use technical indicators like RSI or Bollinger Bands to validate entry points. Advanced Insights: Breaking Down the Numbers EURAUD Volatility Trends EURAUD tends to see heightened volatility around key PPI releases, particularly when there’s a surprise deviation from expectations. Here’s how you can prepare: - Historical Data: Analyze past PPI releases and EURAUD movements. - Set Stop-Loss Levels: Account for higher volatility with wider stops to avoid premature exits. Central Bank Speak Central bankers are masters of cryptic language. Pay attention to their comments after PPI releases. If the ECB hints at tightening due to inflationary pressures, EUR strength could follow. Avoiding Pitfalls: Lessons from the Trenches Trading mistakes are like buying a flashy car you can’t afford: avoidable if you plan wisely. Here’s what not to do: - Ignoring the Bigger Picture: Don’t trade PPI in isolation; consider other factors like employment data or geopolitical events. - Overleveraging: High volatility requires disciplined risk management. Stick to your trading plan. Turning Insights into Action The EURAUD and PPI combination isn’t just a data point; it’s a roadmap to smarter trading. Master the nuances, and you’ll gain an edge over traders still fumbling with outdated strategies. Ready to elevate your game? - Expand your knowledge with our in-depth resources: Free Forex Courses. - Stay ahead of the curve with real-time updates: Forex News Today. - Optimize your strategies with a free trading journal: Go Here. —————– Image Credits: Cover image at the top is AI-generated Read the full article