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crystalgastles · 2 months ago

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After the flesh

so, this is the revised first chapter and the second chapter of my Jeff the killer fanfiction, I'm trying to get it posted on ao3 but i have yet to receive an invite email to create an account. read my jeff information post before this to get a feel for his personality. love, Alex

Rain pattered outside my window, the cold gray of the morning stinging my eyes as the dull feeling of a headache began to brew at the bottom of my temples. My teeth felt sore.

The remnants of last night's events began slowly moving to the forefront of my mind and the reminder that I had to work a nine hour shift was threatening to make my hangover worse.

The coffee in my hand was bitter and the cigarette that graced my lips as I pulled from its burning embers was hot on my lungs. I should have stolen more sugar packets from work.

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Another sip from the bottle, and a shit attempt at washing off my clothes in the river behind the house of a well off family. Father was a Lawyer I think mother was an accountant or receptionist or insurance broker?

I never know anymore. Lines blur, the faces are warped, people look like animals the more I do this. Man sins he runs to church, monster sins he runs to the bottle, and I am no man.

Thunder rumbles in the distance as lightning crashes a little too close to my position than I’d like. I’ll just steal from the slaughterhouse I’ve created behind me, all that’s not covered in blood.

I rummage through the teenage boys things, never bothered to learn his name even though he was the one to wake up, he doomed the entire family. The soft white of the fabric made me wince. The clean white of the oversized material falling over my frame with ease.

The diners' bright lights practically blinded me as I tried to get through the day. Zombies had more energy than I did at this point and tips were slow. I couldn’t blame the customers, but it would put a spring in my step if I got more than a five percent tip for large groups. I mean, Can seven business men not afford more than five dollars to spare between all of them?

Cold ice water spilled down the front of my uniform as the clatter of glass hit the ground in a sharp ear piercing crack. I had tripped on one of their feet, made to look like an accident but it was because I forgot more creamer. I was sure of it. Fabric uncomfortably clung to my skin as one of them giggled like a schoolgirl. “Jesus” I whispered harshly under my breath and didn’t turn back to face them before I ran to the back room.

Someone else could clean it.

My entire front was covered in water, the tips of my hair soaked and freezing, I couldn’t help but let out hard and choked sobs, my body shaking with each breath while I stood in the freezer in the kitchen trying to compose myself.

The end of my shift and I could even hold it together. I removed my apron and clocked out without telling anyone.

Mascara ran down my cheeks,my nose and cheeks flushed while I clung to my winter coat, it was cold enough to be uncomfortable but not enough for it to snow, the puddles from the earlier rain squelched as I worked on my walk to my car from the parking lot. 98 days since I had been kicked out from my family home, 26 days I had been couch surfing and 72 had been living in my friends apartment, barley being able to split rent. It was almost December. I missed my mom.

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I liked to watch the news, between the mundane and the weather the bright face of the news anchor would fall, sharing the details of the family I had ever so kindly turned into my art project. Three people, five people, an extended family of eight on vacation, only the dog was left. All me across different states, yet I wasn’t suspected for any except my own family’s. Dogs, animals can’t tell the police what you’ve done and sometimes they don’t care. I don’t leave witnesses that can speak.

The diner was mostly quiet, bright droning lights almost drowned out the sound of the box television hanging over the booth in front of me that displayed the news. The chief of police was speaking at a press conference, the bright white hoodie suddenly making me feel too visible for my comfort.

Politician. I killed a local politician's entire family.

Not that I particularly care about politics, quite a distaste for them actually. Police tend to work harder to find the people who harm them even at the local level.

My attention was drawn from the problem I was facing on the screen in front of me as I watched the guy in the booth across from my table in a group of suited fraternity brothers who barely graduated college stick his foot out and trip the server that was waiting on him. Making them drop the tray of half full ice water they were carrying.

The crash of glass and silverware clattered to the floor as the seven giggled, mockingly saying sorry and throwing their half crumpled napkins at her in feigned support of helping them clean up. Tears welled in their eyes as they stood up straight and ran to the back.

It’s easy to pick targets. Some people might as well paint giant red circles on their foreheads. I don’t usually pick people for their behavior on a whim, but I missed my portion of the news because of the accident they caused. Not the server.

I don’t discriminate when it comes to what I do. I watch people, I study them, some more than others. Sometimes I don’t, admittedly I should be more careful but when you need a place to stay for the night you can’t be picky especially if they have a McMansion on the side of town people don’t expect murder in and you really need a shower.

I watched the seven, not pay walk out and to their respective gaudy cars, lifted trucks and one lime green hummer, but two, the one who tripped the server and the one who laughed the loudest, made the detrimental mistake of walking home

I followed at a distance, hood up. The cloudy cold weather allowed me to have it that way without suspicion. I just wanted to see where they lived. I’d deal with it later.

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My keys clinked on the glass of the entryway table into my shared apartment. My roommate wasn’t home yet but I saw the mess of papers, boxes, a box cutter, fake skin for practice and a half drunk Red Bull on the coffee table and knew she hadn’t been gone long. They’d never learn to pick up after themselves.

They were a night shift worker at a gas station who had a dream of being a tattoo artist, something I also wanted to do but apprenticeships were not in the cards for me, I needed to eat and a place to shield me from the rain. The clock I could barely see from the kitchen, a glowing green blob that I could barely make out read 9:15.

I shivered, my front still wet from the water spilled on my brightly colored and obnoxiously 50s themed uniform. I needed a shower and to change.

Warm water cascaded down my back while I sat with my knees to my chest, focusing my eyes on the vinyl coating on the shower wall that’s been slowly starting to peel. I hate the mundane, I wish for just once , something different would grace my life. Something that’s not waking up, going to work, smoking a cigarette, shower, watching tv, checking the landline for messages that my mother still sent me, begging me to come home. I can’t.

I watched the remainder of my hair dye fall down the drain as I turned the water off, I would keep it on forever if it stayed warm. The rough material of an old towel wrapped around my body while I brushed my wet hair and then my teeth, got dressed in an old South Park t-shirt I had from high school that my dad gave me, one of the only things we ever bonded over was that show. I swallowed the guilty feeling that overcame my senses as I pulled on my sweatpants and clipped my hair back so my wet hair wouldn’t stain my shirt. Perks of having dye that never seems to fully Rinse out.

The yellow glow of our singular lamp bathed the living room in a warm light, the couch seemed to sink in on me while the tv played some sitcom I wasn’t too invested in.

Tap tap tap

The unmistakable sound of fingers on glass made me turn my head towards our sliding door. I grabbed the box cutter sitting on the coffee table. Something my roommate left out after she had finished opening a package, her forgetfulness becoming something I was grateful for at that moment.

I could see a figure. My own reflection in the glass obscuring my late night visitor’s appearance as I approached the door. Seeing it was unlocked as the glass slowly started to slide open.

She forgot to lock the door.

A large black boot slapped onto the linoleum, wet with rain. The white hoodie the intruder was wearing, covered in red. The rain that had seeped into the fabric had turned the large splotches pink around the edges of what I could only assume was blood. And I didn’t want mine there next.

Exposing the box cutters blade I ran at him, yelling obscenities as I hopped onto his back, a low grunt escaping his lips as he tried to pull me off and throw me onto my own kitchen floor,

Large calloused hands tried to grab at my arms as I wildly slashed without really looking. blood dripped onto my hands when I sliced his arm with the box cutter.

He grabbed my wrist and pried me off of his back, grabbing my shoulders and slamming me against the ground.

The wind was knocked out of me when the cold kitchen floor hit my back, the blood from his arm now dripping onto my face while he had me pinned to the floor, grabbing my wrist and wrestling my one and only weapon out of my hands.

Kicking, screaming, and biting I eventually got out from under him after I bit down his palm hard enough to draw blood and to feel his skin rupture between my teeth. I ran to my room, grabbing my flip phone off the living room table as he was preoccupied clutching his hand where I had bit him and tried to shut the door but a steel toed boot stood in my way.

I didn’t know what to say, my hands were shaking and I was covered in sweat and blood, my bangs stuck to my forehead and I pushed the door harder and harder, trying to push him out of the way so I could have some semblance of safety.

A deep gravelly voice barely loud enough to hear came from the other side of the flimsy wood that was cracking in between my non stop pushing and the leather and steel on the other side

“I don’t want to hurt you. I need a place to sleep.”

What the fuck.

I tried to think of something, anything that would make him scared enough of me to leave but I kept drawing blanks. My lungs are still trying to catch up with me.

“I have a roommate! He’s big and will be home in ten minutes, I have a shotgun in my closet if you don’t get out right now I’m blowing a hole through your stomach”

“You should go get it then, cause I’d rather have a hole in my stomach than be in a jail cell for the rest of my life”

The crunching of the door reminded me of what was between me and this man, who was determined on staying in my home for the night, the sirens passing by my house one after the other, catching my attention. I made the connection that, that’s what he was hiding from pretty quickly.

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I returned to the townhouse three hours later, crouching behind a large bush right while I waited for one of the men from the diner to step out the back door and onto the patio, bong in hand.

I overheard on their walk home about a new strain they had gotten from a dealer in the city, something about how it was supposed to be smoother than a generic? I couldn’t give a shit I hope it was laced.

Assholes. Stereotype defining assholes.

The water sloshed inside of the bowl when one of the men stood up, both backs turned to me as I lunged at one of them from the bush, large Bowie knife clutched.

The first one was swift. The man fell to the ground and was sobbing while his friend, the one who tripped the server, stood dumbly off to the side.

I lifted his head by his shortly cropped and gelled hair, the crunchy pompous locks making me want to vomit.

“Open your mouth.”

“W-what?” The cracked voice of the man annoyed me. Once so proud and full of arrogance reduced to a babbling child

“Are you deaf I said open your fucking mouth.”

He did as I said, and as I placed his front teeth on the metal feet of the patio stable and kicked down. The sickening crunch of his teeth and skull satisfied me. He’d finally stop laughing.

I turned to the other man, who was now holding a wooden board.

I pulled my knife out of his friend’s back, looking him in the eye and slowly wiping the carnage off on the paper white of my sweatshirt, lightly laughing to myself.

“What was your friend's name?”

The man swallowed, Lowering the board and taking a shaking breath before looking back at me

“Look man if I owe you money or something, I don’t make the Coke I just deal it, I can give you the guys number or-“

I shook my head. This guy watched his friend get curb stomped and he was worried that he owed me money

“Do none of you listen? It’s like you can only hear yourselves, what was your friends name sweetheart”

I was wasting time. The neighbors definitely heard and or seen what had happened. I would be hearing sirens soon enough. I needed to get this over with.

“Ronnie, um his name was Ronnie”

I stopped, tracing the blade along my fingertip. His unwillingness to fight back made me want him to just smack me square in the face with that wood just to prove to me that he wasn’t all talk, and that he didn’t only like to pick on people he deemed lower than him.

“It’s harder for a rich man to get into heaven than it is for a camel to travel through the eye of a needle”

Tears ran down his face as he let the board fall on the concrete, sniffling when he twisted his face to try and figure out what I meant “What does that even mean”

“I’ll see you where we both belong”

The knife slipped through the fabric of his shirt as his blood dripped onto the front of my jacket, the friction of flesh similar to when you slice an orange in half. One after the other after the other until his body resembled hamburger meat. I only stopped when I could hear sirens in the distance, my anger finally subsiding in a dull guilt.

I hopped the fence of the small back yard, running into back alley ways and parts of the city that were abandoned at night, only resuming when the sun came over the trees.

My lungs burned as I coughed, and sprinted through the streets. Hardly being able to catch a breath as sirens grew closer, reminding me I had to keep running

I made my way to an apartment building, scanning the downstairs units until I found one tucked away at the end of the tree line, with a sliding glass door leading to the outside of the back yard that was connected to the other tenants.

I saw the tv on the other side but couldn’t quite make out who was watching it from the other side, the light from a street lamp casting a glare on the glass. They probably weren’t even home.

I searched for the door handle, my fingers accidentally tapping on the glass when I finally found it, unlocked. I pulled on the door the loud scraping sound, surely alerting whoever was home if there was anyone there at all of my presence.

I reached up, grabbing this person's wrist and also thrashing, whoever this was was hell bent on staying on my back, getting me out, or stabbing me.

There was a sharp sting in my forearm as they sliced me in an upward motion that I could only hope didn’t hit any major arteries. Can't go to the hospital when you’re wanted in all fifty states.

I managed to grab their shoulders flipping them so they were facing me , then pushed and fell with them to the ground, using the time they couldn’t breathe to pin their wrists to the linoleum, clamping down so hard they had to open their palm so that the box cutter would fall out of that iron grip. I stopped for a moment, recognizing their face and hair. It was the server. The server that was tripped, the server I saw run away from broken water glasses and the men I turned into New York strip steaks was now tussling with me.

I let go, but not before I kicked the makeshift weapon where they couldn’t reach and cradled my now bleeding hand and arm while they skittered to the living room, and to a room down the hall. Probably to call the police. I ran, my longer legs carrying me to the room right before they could close the door, and stuck my foot in between the frame and the wooden board.

“I don’t want to hurt you I just need a place to sleep”

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I crawled away into the corner of my room, hands and knees bruised from fighting. I grabbed my lighter off the windowsill. I flicked it, the flame sputtering for a moment and then burning out as I held it out towards him in a feigned attempt to scare him away with the threat of burning him. He slowly removed his hood, long black ,wet hair fell over his shoulders, one of his eyebrows seemed to be burned off halfway with a Glasgow smile scar that looked to still be healing , taken over by burns running up to where the tail of his eyebrow should be. Burn scars covered half his neck up to his jaw. I recognized his hands, his hair and sharp features. I served him coffee earlier today at work, nothing else. He tipped me with a 20 dollar bill before he stormed out of the restaurant. He was going to kill me, he followed me home from work and waited until my roommate wasn’t home to do god knows what to me and then leave my body in a dumpster, torn apart. Or cut me up into little pieces and serve me on a silver platter, and keep my head in the freezer or bleach my bones and wear them as a necklace or turn my hair into a wig and dance around pretending to be me or- My mind kept running in circles of every horror movie trope I had ever come across and just stood and watched as he looked at me as if waiting for me to say something. I dug the hand that wasn’t clutching my lighter into the shag of my carpet. Feeling the soft fibers while I tried to think of a way out. I screamed as he slowly moved towards me as if I were a stray feral cat he was trying to crate and he didn’t want me to run away, I threw the lighter at him, smacking him square in the forehead with it before it fell at his feet, and crunched under the weight of his boot before he slowly pulled a large knife out of the hoodie pocket, sharp and glistening from the streetlight outside my bedroom window. I closed my eyes, preparing for the sharp burning pain of being stabbed in the stomach or shoulder but nothing

came. I slowly opened one eye and saw he put it on the windowsill, crouching down to meet my sitting position on the floor to look me in the eye.

“You should really start locking that patio door”

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I crouched in front of them, my eyes locking with theirs, the rain dripping from my hair making a slow patter on the fabric of her sweatpants. While I tried to analyze their features, their eyes looked like saucers, their bottom lip quivered. Soft features looked at me with so much fear it made me start to question why I was even terrorizing her. They were staring at me, at my face, seeming to analyze me as well, specifically staring at my mouth. My scar, something from my teenage years that never seems to fully heal. I open it back up on hard nights when lights are too bright and memories flood my mind. “Fucked up right” I tried to talk, attempting to make the thick atmosphere of the room lift by pointing out what they were staring at. Picking their hand up gently and placing his fingers on the edges of the deep scar to try and show her I wasn’t going to do anything. I really needed food and a shower. Maybe a cigarette. “I did this repeatedly as a kid, you’re stupid when you’re 17.” They stared wide mouthed at me and were silent. Cracked sounds escaping their lips as if they were trying to speak but the words got stuck in their teeth. Slow uhs and ums, making me almost laugh at the absurdity of the situation. The blood, my blood on their face reminded me of the gash in my arm and hand. I needed to stitch that up, or bandage it as best I could. A small voice broke the silence of my thoughts, their hand was on my face even though I had moved my own. “Have you been stalking me” I couldn’t help but laugh, it could be seen like that. They

saw me at the diner earlier and then later the same day I’m breaking and entering into their apartment. I hadn’t been.

“No, actually. I didn’t even know this was your apartment.”

“Why are you here? Are you gonna murder me?

""No. No no I’m not. I was hoping no one was here

""Well…um can you go?”

“I need a shower, food, a different hoodie maybe. Do you smoke?”

“Yeah, why?”

“I was hoping you had a cigarette”

“I do. I don’t have a lighter anymore though.”

“Sorry about that”

“Yeah um”

The conversation was awkward. I backed away as they slowly unraveled from their ball on the floor while I sat on the bed, cradling my hand so the blood wouldn’t stain their bedding. They stood, keeping their eyes on me while backing towards my knife on the windowsill slowly. Not grabbing it, only standing in front of it. “Thanks for the 20 today. I uh. Appreciate it, you can shower if you need to. If you have a lighter I have reds in the kitchen.” I remembered the diner, the men. The crunch of bone and I winced. Do I tell them I killed two of the guys who tripped them? Or do I just accept their thanks and move on. Let them find out on their own. “You’re welcome.”

The sting of the steady flow of steam and water piercing the gash on my arm made me hiss while the brown of old blood fell down my shoulders and into the drain while I dug the dirt off of my scalp.

My hair has grown, it was barely past my shoulders when I first left home and now it reached my mid back. I tried to cut it but I never could do it properly. Only she could. All I had left of her was the silver crucifix I wore. Even now in the shower. I don’t want to risk losing it.

Towel around my hips, I looked under the bathroom cabinets for the first aid kit, my good arm feeling around the wood for anything to patch myself up. I grabbed the kit. Biting the inside of my cheek, I poured rubbing alcohol on my wounds , digging my fingers into my palm as it stung like hellfire.

The kind of pain I knew too well , I wrapped the gauze on my arm and hand before taping it so it’d be secure enough for me to bend and move my arm. Getting dressed in the old bleach stained black hoodie they gave me I turned the gold door knob that was starting to turn silver from ware and stood face to face with them.

“I put your other hoodie in my washing machine. I’m not sure how well those stains are gonna come out though.”

I couldn’t understand why they were being nice to me. Maybe out of fear, maybe out of just pure indifference to the situation, or loneliness, something I could also relate to, in some sick twisted sense.

I didn't say anything, just pushed past them with a nod. Examining the shelves of books, glass figurines and cds on the shelves of a bookcase, skeleton stuffed animals on the couch along with a ‘worlds best grandma’ pillow and so many blankets with different animals printed on the plush

fabric thrown onto a side chair. One with the face of a raccoon plastered on it, another with three wolves and a moon in the back and a few others I couldn't quite make out.

“You have a lot of things”

“Oh. yeah I guess”

“Who is the world's best grandma”

“Oh um, it's an Inside joke”

“I have a lighter in my pocket, if you want to smoke”

“Sure”

I liked them. I liked the shortness they expressed with me, I wanted to dig, find that personality I saw in the shelves of their bookcase. Dissect every Part of their brain, study it and look it over again.

The flick of the lighter, the inhale of smoke and a sweet flow of nicotine grazed my lungs. I reached out tilting my head as if to tell them to come closer so I could light theirs. They stood four feet away from me but came closer when I held out the flame “come on I’m not gonna bite”

As they blew the smoke into the darkness of the night air I saw his shoulders relax the orange of the burning paper illuminating her fingers as they took another drag.

“I killed the guy who tripped you”

“What?’

“I killed him and the guy who sat beside him”

“I, um”

“Not for you. But I thought you’d want to know”

“How’d you do it?”

I raised an eyebrow at the question. She was so nonchalant in the delivery it almost made me question if they believed me at all as they inhaled more of the smoke, I did the same.

“Curb Stomped the guy who laughed the hardest, turned the other one into minced meat”

“Do you think they deserved it?”

“I guess, do you think they did?”

“Yeah. But I also think you should be in prison”

“I have been, when I was 17, shoplifting and property damage.”

“Huh”

“They made me do drag, was the only one in there with long hair”

“I guess you don’t want to go back then”

“I wouldn't enjoy it , no”

I didn't enjoy talking about my youth. I wanted to make them more comfortable with me being there rather than keeping a distance, having a place to stay where I felt welcomed would be refreshing. The burning tobacco finally reached the filter and I put out the rest of the paper on the glass ashtray resting against a glass table and turned to them as they took a final long drag and did the same. Their arm reached over me, and grazed

my hair when they put out their cigarette and I felt as if I were making progress in cracking that shell.

“I don't know how i feel about you being here but, it's better than what i usually do and I don't think you will leave ,even if I ask again”

“You’d be right”

“Can you not find anyone else”

“I don't want to.”

“Genuinely why, what is so intriguing about my house”

“You’re letting me stay, you did my laundry, let me shower and gave me a cigarette, do you rescue stray cats a lot?”

“No.”

#jeff the killer #creepypasta #jeff the killer x reader #jeff the killer headcanons #jeff the killer x oc #eyeless jack x reader #eyeless jack #ticci toby #creepypasta art #my wriitng #my ocs #horror art #horror fiction #slenderman #jeff the killer creepypasta #Spotify

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a-d-nox · 2 years ago

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Hii thank u answering my career ask, I have uranus conjunct mc in both natal and mc persona chart , wdyt ? And a 10th house stellium in mc persona chart! Thank u <33

part 1: career observation (using natal and mc persona)

natal

your mc is in pisces so we are looking for its planetary ruler(s). jupiter and neptune. jupiter in the 5h and neptune in the 8h.

5h jobs: adoption agency, obgyn, ambassador, bookkeeper, entertainment, caretaker for children, and/or matchmaker.

8h jobs: mortician, estate lawyer, bank manager/accountant, insurance agent/broker, and/or surgeon.

noteworthy aspects (tight orbs)

sun sextile neptune: great at pretending/acting differently than you truly are in day-to-day life - usually will act braver than you feel (good for an actor/actress). generally a meticulous person (excellent for a doctor/surgeon). labelled a creative. working in confidence (like a doctor or a lawyer). atmosphere tends to possess drugs. not going by your first name (might have an alias or a name that you no longer has a relationship to).

mars opposite jupiter: active nature. sharp objects. sexually transmitted diseases. rashes/irritation.

sun square mc: someone of intimidating status and authority. seemingly bragging. might seeming like you have a big ego. the field your father may have been in.

mc persona

8h venus at 29°: needing time to establish yourself in your profession in order to attract clientele. seeing people at their most vulnerable with the intention of helping them. having a reputation for helping people to heal when they are at the most fragile (conjunct chiron and 12h is ruled by venus). having a great passion for what you do.

11h moon at 11°: 11° is a fame degree via the use of technology - though that puts zero limits on the possible career as the age of technology gets further flooded with new inventions and innovations. it is possible that you could invent something with this placement or patent something (i would suggest checking eureka in your chart). 11h is income from business and your moon rules over the 2h so you are likely to jump into a new tax bracket. you could be popular with you colleagues as well. 11° is an aqua degree; aqua is bloodily fluids and moon is sexual reproduction - so i am still thinking obstetrics.

the 10h stellium (sun, merc, uranus, and nn): highly regarded in your career. praised for intellect. feeling fulfilled. helping the masses. being consistently on the go. inventing something in the field you work in. research heavy field. performing for everyone to see.

jupiter square neptune (mc persona's mc rulers negatively aspecting one another): you could experience imposter syndrome - you could feel like you aren't worthy of your praise, that you haven't done all that you hope to, and/or like you are a fraud. at some point you could make an error because you are absentminded in a a single moment which could be fatal to your hopes to succeed in your career. often this is a sleep thing - you need to sleep so you are at your sharpest. you are going to have haters both secret and otherwise. could be making scars where there are none.

my guess: obgyn, estate lawyer, inventor/engineering, accounting, or tattoo artist.

hope this helps!

a.d.

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#astrology #astro community #astro chart #astro placements #natal chart #persona chart #career observations #astrology tumblr #astro content #astro notes #astro observations #mc persona chart

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accapitalmarket · 5 months ago

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BoE August cut bets rewind, ECB poised to hold today

UK stocks and the pound were mixed on Wednesday after unchanged inflation data saw a dialling back of bets for an August interest rate cut by the Bank of England (BoE).

The UK consumer prices index held steady at 2.0% in June, defying forecasts for a slight fall, heightening uncertainty around when the BoE will start its easing cycle. The odds of a rate cut in August dropped to 33%, from 49% before the data.

Other UK data showed a sharp acceleration in UK house price in May, with the average home price rising 2.2% year-on-year to £285,000. That marked a rebound from the 1.3% growth in April and continues a trend of rising prices after eight months of decline.

On currency markets, sterling was a beneficiary of the rate cut uncertainty against the US dollar, adding 0.3% at 1.3004. But the pound lost 0.02% versus the euro at 1.1891 having given back earlier gains, with all eyes on the latest European Central Bank (ECB) interest rate decision on Thursday.

After cutting rates at its last meeting, the ECB is expected to leave its benchmark rates unchanged for now, though the focus will be on whether the central bank’s president Christine Lagarde gives any clues about a further rate cut in September.

At the stock market close in London, the blue-chip FTSE 100 index was up 0.3% at 8,187, snapping a two-session losing streak, rallying in the afternoon helped by continuing strength for US blue chips.

But the more domestically focused FTSE 250 index shed 0.6% at 21,093 as investors assessed the new Labour government’s first legislative plans, as outlined in the King’s Speech at the opening of the recently elected Parliament.

Energy issues found support due to gains in oil prices thanks to a weaker dollar and a report that showed a decline in US crude stockpiles. BP was up 1.4% and Shell ahead 0.4%.

Water companies Severn Trent and United Utilities both rallied after recent falls, adding 1.9% and 1.7% respectively. The sector had suffered in the previous session after regulator Ofwat announced an expanded investigation into water companies' management of wastewater treatment works.

And HSBC added 0.41% following news George Elhedery, the global banking giant’s current finance chief would be promoted to chief executive starting in September. He replaces Noel Quinn, whose departure had already been announced.

But on the downside, Antofagasta was the biggest FTSE 100 faller, down 6.1%, after the Chilean miner said it expects full-year copper output at the lower end of its guidance range.

Meanwhile blue-chip insurer Legal & General Group shed 1.5% after analysts at Canadian broker RBC downgraded the stock to sector perform from outperform.

And, on the second line, Genus dropped 10.8% after the animal genetics firm said its 2025 adjusted operating profit would be lower than its earlier forecast.

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newstfionline · 9 months ago

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Wednesday, March 13, 2024

Automakers Are Sharing Consumers’ Driving Behavior With Insurance Companies (NYT) Kenn Dahl says he has always been a careful driver. The owner of a software company near Seattle, he drives a leased Chevrolet Bolt. He’s never been responsible for an accident. So Mr. Dahl, 65, was surprised in 2022 when the cost of his car insurance jumped by 21 percent. One insurance agent told him his LexisNexis report was a factor. LexisNexis is a New York-based global data broker with a “Risk Solutions” division that caters to the auto insurance industry and has traditionally kept tabs on car accidents and tickets. Upon Mr. Dahl’s request, LexisNexis sent him a 258-page “consumer disclosure report,” which it must provide per the Fair Credit Reporting Act. What it contained stunned him: more than 130 pages detailing each time he or his wife had driven the Bolt over the previous six months. It included the dates of 640 trips, their start and end times, the distance driven and an accounting of any speeding, hard braking or sharp accelerations. The only thing it didn’t have is where they had driven the car. According to the report, the trip details had been provided by General Motors—the manufacturer of the Chevy Bolt. LexisNexis analyzed that driving data to create a risk score “for insurers to use as one factor of many to create more personalized insurance coverage,” according to a LexisNexis spokesman.

Biden has huge leverage on Israel. He hasn’t really used it yet. (Washington Post) President Biden has become a vocal critic of Prime Minister Benjamin Netanyahu’s leadership of the Israeli war in Gaza. But there is one key area where the United States has not yet exerted its leverage on Netanyahu: Military aid. Throughout the war in Gaza, the United States has remained a vital military supplier to Israel. Bader Al-Saif, a professor of history at Kuwait University, told The Washington Post last week that the United States shouldn’t have to ask Israel to allow more aid to Gaza. “It should be a command,” Al-Saif said, as the United States was “financing the war” with its arms deliveries to Israel. The United States has quietly approved and delivered more than 100 separate foreign military sales to Israel since Oct. 7. The number is in addition to the $106 million worth of tank ammunition and $147.5 million of artillery shell components that were publicly announced, even as the Biden administration bypassed Congress with an emergency authority. The United States has long had a deep military relationship with Israel, which has received about $300 billion in combined economic and military assistance, adjusted for inflation, since its founding, according to the Council on Foreign Relations. Even as Israel’s economy boomed and its need for economic assistance tapered off, military aid stayed at least $3 billion a year.

Haitian prime minister says he’ll resign, clearing way for new government (Washington Post) Ariel Henry, Haiti’s embattled prime minister, will resign once a transitional presidential council is established and an interim leader is selected, he said late Monday. The arrangement, announced by Caribbean Community (Caricom) leaders after an hours-long meeting in Jamaica that included Biden administration officials and representatives of the United Nations, will clear the way “for a peaceful transition of power, continuity of governance, an action plan for near-term security and the road to free and fair elections,” according to Guyanese President Irfaan Ali, the chairman of the regional bloc. In a video address Monday night, Henry said he would step down “immediately after the installation of this council.” Haiti, which lacks both a president and a legislature, is suffering its worst violence and instability in decades. Armed gangs have tightened their grip on the country’s capital, attacked the international airport and main seaport, and threatened a civil war unless the prime minister stepped down.

Photoshop Can’t Erase Royals’ Latest P.R. Blemish (NYT) If a picture is worth a thousand words, then a digitally altered picture of an absent British princess is apparently worth a million. That seemed to be the lesson after another day of internet-breaking rumors and conspiracy theories swirling around Catherine, Princess of Wales, who apologized on Monday for having doctored a photograph of herself with her three children that circulated on news sites and social media on Sunday. It was the first official photo of Catherine since before she underwent abdominal surgery two months ago—a cheerful Mother’s Day snapshot, taken by her husband, Prince William, at home. But if it was meant to douse weeks of speculation about Catherine’s well-being, it had precisely the opposite effect. Now the British royal family faces a storm of questions about how it communicates with the press and public, whether Catherine manipulated other family photos she released in previous years, and whether she felt driven to retouch this photo to disguise the impact of her illness.

Wood (Bloomberg) Paris is hosting the Olympic Games this summer, and the city has taken the unique step of not squandering a fortune on a bunch of buildings that will never be used again and will languish into rust for decades following the Games. Indeed, 95 percent of the venues either already exist or are being built specifically so they can be dismantled for reuse after the event. The rest they’re building with wood, which is more sustainable than concrete or steel. The wood construction market in France is up 14 percent since 2020, and the number of new nonresidential buildings that have been built with wood is up to 18.3 percent.

As Putin orchestrates his reelection, a resilient Russian economy is a key selling point (AP) Russians are finding a few imported staples, like fruit, coffee and olive oil, have shot way up in price. Most global brands have disappeared—or been reincarnated as Russian equivalents under new, Kremlin-friendly ownership. Other than that, not much has changed economically for most people in President Vladimir Putin’s Russia, more than two years after he sent troops into Ukraine. That’s despite the sweeping sanctions that have cut off much of Russia’s trade with Europe, the U.S. and their allies. That sense of stability is a key asset for Putin as he orchestrates his foreordained victory in the March 15-17 presidential election for a fifth, six-year term. Inflation is higher than most people would like, at over 7. But unemployment is low, and the economy is expected to grow 2.6% this year, according to the International Monetary Fund, double the previous forecast. That’s far above the 0.9% expansion predicted for Europe.

India’s new citizenship law that excludes Muslims has them worried (AP) India has implemented a controversial citizenship law that has been widely criticized for excluding Muslims, a minority community whose concerns have heightened under Prime Minister Narendra Modi’s Hindu nationalist government. The rules for the law were announced Monday. It establishes a religious test for migrants from every major South Asian faith other than Islam. Critics argue that the law is further evidence that Modi’s government is trying to reshape the country into a Hindu state and marginalize its 200 million Muslims. The Citizenship Amendment Act provides a fast track to naturalization for Hindus, Parsis, Sikhs, Buddhists, Jains and Christians who fled to Hindu-majority India from Afghanistan, Bangladesh and Pakistan before Dec. 31, 2014. The law excludes Muslims, who are a majority in all three nations. It marks the first time that India—an officially secular state with a religiously diverse population—has set religious criteria for citizenship.

China Leads the US, Russia in Hypersonics, Pentagon Analyst Says (Bloomberg) China leads the world in developing, testing and deploying hypersonic weapons, beating out Russia while the US, having already spent $12 billion, has yet to field even one. The weapons can travel five times the speed of sound, making interception by existing defensive systems difficult at best. China, senior US defense intelligence analyst Jeffery McCormick told Congress Tuesday, has the world’s “leading hypersonic arsenal” thanks to Beijing’s two-decade long effort “to dramatically advance its development of conventional and nuclear-armed technologies and capabilities through intense and focused investment, development, testing and deployments.”

At least 50 hurt as LATAM’s Boeing 787 to Auckland ‘just dropped’ mid-flight (NYT) About 50 people were treated by emergency medical workers on Monday after a Latam Airlines flight bound for Auckland, New Zealand’s largest city, experienced what the airline called “strong movement” caused by a “technical problem.” Twelve people, one of whom was in serious condition, were taken to three hospitals, Auckland’s ambulance service said. Latam, a Chilean airline, provided no specifics about the technical problem that it said had caused the disturbance. The plane made a “violent drop” for just a second or two, said Brian Jokat, who was on board Latam Airlines Flight 800. “The plane just dropped,” Mr. Jokat, 61, said. “It felt like coming over the top of a roller coaster and heading down—and then it straightened up immediately.” A jolt roused Mr. Jokat, who was wearing his seatbelt, from a nap, and in the next instant the plane was in what felt like free-fall. He saw the passenger next to him being thrown up to the ceiling of the plane, and then come crashing back down. “Anyone who wasn’t in a seatbelt was thrown,” he said. “You could not have not been thrown.”

Navigating Israeli Restrictions, Many Palestinians Find It Hard to Reach Al Aqsa (NYT) As the sermon about the Muslim holy month of Ramadan sounded over the speakers from Al Aqsa Mosque, 13-year-old Yousef al-Sideeq sat on a bench outside the compound’s gates. “Most Fridays they prevent me from getting in, for no reason,” the young Jerusalem resident said, referring to the Israeli police. Every Friday, Yousef visits Jerusalem’s Old City to pray at Al Aqsa, the third holiest site for Muslims and part of the compound sacred to Jewish people, who call it the Temple Mount. But since the Hamas-led Oct. 7 attacks and Israel’s ensuing bombardment of Gaza, heavily armed Israeli police forces who guard many of the Old City’s gates have stopped him from entering the compound, he said. Muslim access to the mosque has long been a point of contention as Israel has exerted tighter control in recent years over the compound, one of many restrictions Palestinians living under decades of Israeli occupation have had to endure.

The Daily Hunt for Food in Gaza (NYT) For two million hungry Gazans, most days bring a difficult search for something to eat. Amany Mteir, 52, scours the streets north of Gaza City, where people sell or trade what food they have. Farther north, in Beit Lahia, Aseel Mutair, 21, said she and her family of four split one pot of soup from an aid kitchen twice last week. One day they had nothing but tea. Nizar Hammad, 30, is sheltering in a tent in Rafah with seven other adults and four children. They have not gotten aid in two weeks, and Nizar worked two days at a market to earn enough money to buy some small bags of rice from a street vendor. The war, including Israel’s bombardment and siege, has choked food imports and destroyed agriculture, and nearly the entire population of Gaza relies on scant humanitarian aid to eat. The problems are especially worrisome in the north, where aid has been almost nonexistent. U.N. agencies have mostly suspended their aid operations there, citing Israeli restrictions on convoys, security issues and poor conditions of roads.

#headlines #news

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cognitiveleague · 1 year ago

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Hey, y’all! I’m even broker than usual, so fuck it. A… commissions post of sorts? But for random shit I’m good at, organized loosely from most practical to most deranged.

So let’s get to it! In case this post makes it to someone outside of my mutuals, hi, I’m Ket (she/her), and my wife Thyme (they/them) and I are veteran Tumblrinas of many a year. We live with our two beautiful, incredibly stupid cats, Tabitha and Umbra.

I wrote a whole thing here about how hard we work (well, not the cats) and the reasons why we’re still struggling, because that’s how I Need Money posts usually go, and then I deleted it, because honestly, we’re pretty much all having a bad time under late-stage capitalism, and beyond not wanting to guilt trip anyone, I don’t want to waste anyone’s empathy on all the exhausting details when so many of us are already so tired and so overextended emotionally and/or financially.

Tl;dr - Late stage capitalism sucks for us (as it does for many), no money in bank, week until payday, need money because existing is expensive.

What I can offer in exchange for money if anyone’s interested: under the cut to save space on your dash!

-Translation: Japanese to English, English to Japanese, French to English (but not vice versa at this time unless you’re willing to accept that the end result may be pretty clunky and stilted), could probably drag my wife in if anybody wants Swedish to English or vice versa? Pricing variable depending on amount and complexity of text involved, can provide a somewhat-negotiable estimate on request.

-Informal consultation on (US) health insurance: My day job involves dealing with my workplace’s patients’ health insurance companies. I have an active vendetta against all private healthcare companies and detailed knowledge of how they work, and am personally invested in helping as many people as possible not get screwed by them, so honestly, if I had time and didn’t need money, I’d do this one for free. I’d probably have to draw up some type of waiver / information privacy policy for it, like you’d have to sign for any sort of financial advisor who gets paid for it, but if there’s interest I totally will. I can look at your healthcare plan options and tell you which one would make the most sense to pick, or advise on the best plan of action for making your existing bullshit insurance company fix something they screwed up, for example. Pay what it’s worth to you.

-Editing: I’ve got years if not decades of experience with fiction and academic writing, and a sharp eye for detail. I’m also experienced with writing letters and emails in a business context. Got something that needs a once-over for errors? I can help! I am also happy to just straight-up write letters or emails for any context, or really just about anything that isn’t academic writing (which I can still help revise or edit, but if you want someone to write your whole damn paper for you, find someone willing to do it.) As with translation, pricing depends on amount and complexity of text, can provide an estimate if you tell me what you want.

-Short-form poetry: I said what I said, and you know, I’m not even embarrassed somehow. Pay what you will, and you can have your very own bespoke haiku (in Japanese and-or English) for any occasion and/or theme you want. Hell, if you want, and if “what you will” covers at least enough for materials and postage, I’ll clear off the coffee table, dust off the calligraphy set, personally cry tears of frustration from my own eyeballs for you as I try to remember how to grind my own ink, and mail you a physical copy.

-Assorted Renfaire Bitch Skills: I did fencing and reenacting until I busted my leg, and have for many years worked weekends at a clothes shop at my local renfaire during the season when it runs. Also my Tolkien and Shakespeare and golden age of piracy phases just never went away. Want practical advice on writing or choreographing m a swordfighting scene? Want a shitpost (or anything else) translated from 20th-21st century English to period-accurate Tudor-era English? Want me to design a medieval-to-renaissance-inspired outfit for you or your OC with whatever level of accuracy or inaccuracy you want? Want me to write a scathing diss sonnet for someone your party’s bard hates? ALL THIS AND MORE CAN BE YOURS - I pray you, seek out with all haste my DMs

-Assorted Renfaire Butch Skills: Autocorrect was really pushing for this one, and I’ll grant it this win. As above, but I’ll tie my hair back and wear a doublet.

-Cat pics: Self explanatory. I will send you photos of our beautiful, brainless cats to brighten your day. Pay what you will, and I will decide how many stupid cat pictures it is worth.

Send me a DM if you want to engage my services for any of the above, and we can talk what kind of price would be fair! Reblogs appreciated, too 💕

#commission post #sort of - just not for art?#reblogs welcome

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jodybensonsharp · 2 years ago

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Jody Benson Sharp Currency Trading Tips And Tricks For Traders

Jody Benson Sharp Professional tips provider. A platform like Forex is able to provide a lot of opportunity for a lot of people, but it can also be the bane of your existence if you do not treat the market with the utmost respect. A failure to focus and act correctly will leave you flat broke and reeling. Examine the tips below before investing your money.

With so many people using Forex across the globe, the best brokers in the business stand out. There are multiple websites around that give you thorough information about which brokers are legitimate and which brokers you should avoid. Never neglect to do your homework before hiring a broker. It's the difference between success and failure.

Start your forex career with small amounts of money and low leverage. This will let you get your feet wet without losing your house. As you start to make a profit, reinvest a portion of it into your trading account. Try to not add more of your own money in past your initial starting investments.

When participating in forex trading, a great tip is to have two accounts: a real account and a demo one. The real account is the one in which you do your actual trades. The demo account is strictly used for testing purposes. Use the demo account to test alternative trades and alternate stops. This allows you to become more knowledgeable about the market without sacrificing your actual money.

A successful trader and an unsuccessful trader have a glaring difference. While the unsuccessful trader is ruined by a downswing, a successful one has the ability to weather the storm. When investing, never risk more than two or three percent of the total account. Several loses in a row is a quick road to ruin otherwise.

One important Forex fact to keep in mind is that every currency pair has its own unique behavior. While there are overall strategies every trader can apply to every market, the wise investor will be careful not to treat every pair as equal. Trade in a new pair should start out cautious until the trader is comfortable with the pair's particular idiosyncrasies.

Jody Benson Sharp Qualified tips provider. You should not give up on trading, even if you have not been successful so far. You need to be patient and take the time to learn everything you need to know. With enough studying and practice, anyone can become a good trader. If you fail, learn from your mistakes instead of giving up.

When trading with forex, do not let the trends of the regular stock market influence you too much. These trends are linked to exchange rates, but the success or failure of one firm, no matter how big it is, is not going to affect the value of a currency overnight.

To be successful in foreign exchange trading it is very important to be able to read the market. With that said, it is also as important to know the trends associated to it. A good way to make money is to "ride the wave" on certain successful investments the leaving when it seems to be on the downhill.

One important trait to have in order to be successful in foreign exchange trading is the ability to learn from your losses. These losses are expensive and the best thing that an individual can do is to not make the same mistake. Most people make the same mistake over and over again.

It is important not to over trade when using Forex. Many new buyers get excited after winning a few trades, that they end up trading too much and lose money. If you do happen to lose money a few trades in a row, try your hardest to go a few days without it.

Be sure to do you research and complete a complete analysis prior to making any moves in Forex trading. Any moves that are not carefully considered are almost foolish and can lead to financial disaster for just about anyone. Do not gamble with your money, research and analyze before doing anything.

You should always be using stop loss orders when you have positions open. A stop loss order operates like an insurance policy on your forex investment. Sudden shifts in your chosen currency pairs could cause horrific damage to your portfolio if you do not protect it with stop loss orders. Protect you capital by having the stop loss order on your account.

Jody Benson Sharp Expert tips provider. If you have a background in stock market trading, you have to understand that leverage works very differently with forex. On the stock exchange market, the leverage is related to how many shares someone has, or how much money they have invested. With forex, everyone can have access to a wide range of leverage ratios.

Keep your education streaming by having multiple accounts; one real, and one fake. Use your fake accounts to test the waters of other currencies, and find out which ones seem like safe bets. Since you will not be using real money, you will be able to freely dive in and learn the most about the market.

When discussing the market with other traders, it is great to get their opinion about how things are going and where they think the money is going to be at. Do not trade on their opinions alone. Take the information that they have given you and analyze it with the charts to see if they may be on to something.

If your trading method is not simple, you are going to find that you are going to spend a great deal of time trying to figure out your next move and less time making money. You need to find a simple method that is going to work well to analyze the information that you have and make it earn for you.

Jody Benson Sharp Expert tips provider. As you read at the start of this article, Forex must be treated with the utmost respect if you hope to succeed. By using what you have just read in the text above, you can treat the market with the respect it deserves by always making the smart, informed decision when the time comes. Apply what you've learned and always be respectful of the market.

#jody benson sharp #jody benson sharp | jody benson sharp #jody benson sharp jody benson sharp #benson sharp #j. sharp #jay sharp #jody benson sharp | jody benson sharp #j. benson sharp #jodybensonsharp

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jonesenterprisesinsurance · 2 years ago

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How to Find a Broker to Get an Auto Insurance Quote?

It is good that you are thinking about your future and planning to purchase insurance. Since one never knows when your car gets broken while taking a sharp turn. Making the future secure with money is the best a person can do for their family. Moreover, searching for an insurance broker to get an auto insurance quote might be grueling. No need to worry, as we have made a list of how you can search for them. Read more: https://jonesenterprisesinsurance.wordpress.com/2023/01/16/how-to-find-a-broker-to-get-an-auto-insurance-quote

#Auto Insurance #Auto Insurance Estimate #Auto Insurance Quote

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outoftowninac · 3 years ago

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RITZY

1930

Ritzy is a three act comedy by Viva Tattersall and Sidney Toler. The original production was produced by L. Lawrence Weber and staged by Sidney Toler. The play was first known as Dress Parade.

The play takes place at the Georgian Hotel in New York City, in the residence of Mr. and Mrs. Smith. The stage setting depicted the entire apartment, including bathroom and kitchen.

The story concerns Edgar Smith, insurance man, who learns that his wife Nancy has inherited $200,000. For a day they spend their new-found wealth and grow into snobs before learning it's all a mistake. Meanwhile Edgar has met rich friends and sold a million dollar policy, so the blow doesn't fall too hard.

Sidney Toler (1874-1947) is probably best remembered as the actor who played Charlie Chan on screen in 22 films between 1938 and 1946. In 1930, he was married to Vivian Marston. A month after her death in 1943, he married divorcee Viva (nee Vera) Tattersall, a British-born actress and co-author of Ritzy.

The original cast featured Ernest Truex (as Edgar Smith) and Miriam Hopkins (as his wife, Nancy). Truex later had a prolific film and television career. Hopkins would be nominated for an Oscar in 1936 for playing the title role in Becky Sharp. The supporting cast includes Sydney Riggs, Josephine Evans, Katherine Renwick, Effie Afton, J.H. Brewer, and John Junior.

The world premiere of Ritzy was on February 3, 1930 at Nixon’s Apollo Theatre on the Boardwalk in Atlantic City, New Jersey. Both the stars were recently acting on the London stage, and were welcomed back to the US by the press. The theatre advertised that “You Can Have Dinner at Home This Week” because of their 8:30pm curtain time. The show was billed as “A New Comedy About Swankomania”.

RITZY & SWANKY

In 1930, the term Ritzy was seemingly everywhere due to Irving Berlin’s hit song “Puttin’ on the Ritz”. The informal adjective ‘Rtzy’ implies luxury that's a little over the top. It was coined around 1910, inspired by the famously elegant Ritz Hotels that César Ritz opened starting internationally in the late 19th century. In the USA, the play was performed in just two cities: New York and Atlantic City, both of which had Ritz-Carlton Hotels. The New York hotel was demolished in 1951. The Atlantic City Ritz (built in 1921, above) still stands as a condominium.

The definition of swanky is someone or something that is fancy and stylish and often very expensive. 1913, from the Germanic root ‘swank’ meaning "to swing, turn, toss". Perhaps the notion is of "swinging" the body ostentatiously, similar to swagger.

The play opened on Broadway at the Longacre Theatre on February 10, 1930 and ran for 32 performances.

“As a study of how to spend 200,000 non-existent dollars, its trifling plot (which brewed busily but not so merrily for two hours) hardly needed the services of two players as competent as Mr. Truex and Miss Hopkins, though what it would have done without them is also something of a problem.” – NEW YORK TIMES

After the play closed, there was talk of a tour, but none materialized. Instead, the play was offered for regional production.

The Broadway production of Ritzy introduced a new way to get theatre tickets: telephone! No longer would patrons need to que up at the box office or deal with brokers.

Miriam Hopkins returned to the Great Wooden Way in December - but on celluloid - in the motion picture Fast and Loose playing at the Steel Pier.

By July 1930, Sidney Toler was back at the Atlantic City Apollo, this time acting in David Belasco’s It’s A Wise Child. But that’s another blog!

#Sidney Toler #Ritzy #Viva Tattersall #Broadway #Broadway Play #Longacre Theatre #Nixon's Apollo Theatre #Miriam Hopkins #Ernest Truex #Boardwalk #L Lawrence Weber #Ritz #Swanky #1930

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allthebrazilianpolitics · 4 years ago

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Brazil's strongman leader and a deadly COVID-19 variant are a ‘perfect storm’ for the world’s coronavirus epicentre

Even with the coronavirus surging across Brazil, Fabricio Silva Costa never thought he would get COVID-19.

"Never, never, never," he said.

"I always considered myself very strong."

Since the start of the pandemic, 13 million people in Brazil have contracted the coronavirus, but the 44-year-old insurance broker thought he was doing everything right.

"I do jiujitsu, but I took all the precautions," he tells the ABC from his hospital bed.

"I stopped training to avoid contact, I worked from home, I stopped my social life."

When Mr Costa too came down with COVID-19 he thought he could ride it out.

He started self-medicating with azithromycin, an antibiotic Brazil's President Jair Bolsonaro last year said he was taking in conjunction with the malaria drug hydroxychloroquine to cure his bout of coronavirus.

Neither drug is proven to have any measurable impact on coronavirus infections.

It didn't help Mr Costa either and the insurance broker soon found himself so weak he thought he might die.

He rushed to the Pedro Dell'Antonia field hospital, which used to be a sports gymnasium, on the outskirts of São Paulo, Brazil's largest city.

The Pedro Dell'Antonia is currently operating at 85 per cent capacity, with 160 patients. All of its 20-odd ICU beds are full.

It's a pattern playing out across the country, where many ICU wards are at 90 per cent or above capacity. And the situation is only growing more dire.

When the Pedro Dell'Antonia was set up in July last year, the average age of those admitted was 65. Now doctors put it at around 37 years old.

The sharp increase across Brazil of patients under the age of 60 is thought in part to be due to the spread of the Brazil variant of the virus known as P.1, which has seen infections and deaths surge to record levels.

This past week the country notched up its highest number of deaths in a day so far — 3,869 on March 31.

Daily deaths in Brazil now account for a quarter of all global COVID-19 fatalities. Infections too are going up.

As well as spruiking scientifically debunked treatments, Mr Bolsonaro has described COVID-19 as "a little flu", tried to challenge regional lockdowns in court and has so far refused to be vaccinated himself.

Dr Mauricio Nogueira, a professor of Infectious Diseases in the city of São José do Rio Preto in São Paulo state, described the combination of the country's COVID-19-sceptical strongman and the rise of the P.1 variant as "the perfect storm".

#brazil #brazilian politics #politics #coronavirus #covid 19 #mod nise da silveira

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sharpinsurance · 7 months ago

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How to Keep Your Home Insurance Current on Vacation

Taking a vacation is always exciting. Whether you’re headed out for an adventure, a family visit, or a trip somewhere warm, you’re going to be away from home for a while. Did you know that it’s part of your agreement with your insurer to have someone check in on your home? Insurance companies generally require a check-in every 48 to 72 hours if you’re away. If this isn’t done, you as the homeowner are at risk of a void insurance policy and potentially catastrophic repair costs. We’ll break down how to keep your home insurance current while

Why is my home insurance at risk of being voided? Home insurance is meant to offer coverage in the event of something catastrophic and sudden. That’s why it doesn’t cover regular home maintenance. When we purchase an insurance policy, we are inherently making an agreement with our insurance company. Part of this is ensuring our home is not left vacant for too long. Why? Vacancy means damage goes unnoticed for longer and it can also attract vandals, thieves, and other nefarious characters.

How often does a vacant house need to be checked for insurance purposes? How often should someone check your house when you are away?? Generally, insurers will require someone to check on your home at least once every 48 to 72 hours. You may also be required to turn off and drain the water if you are going away for an extended period over winter (and do not have someone living at your home full-time). The exact requirements vary by the home insurance policy.

How can I prepare my house before my vacation? While it is important to remember that every insurance policy is different, the majority of companies will call for similar requirements. Even if you are away for a small vacation, you are responsible for guaranteeing that your property will be looked over from time to time. Consider organizing a plan for a trusted family member or friend to come into your house every day while you are away to make sure that your house is in good shape. They should ensure:

Your heat is working.

There are no taps running.

There is no water in the basement or main floor (especially if it has rained).

Windows and doors are securely closed and locked.

Mail is picked up.

There is no damage to the exterior of your home from a storm or wind, such as loose roofing or fallen branches.

Concerned about pipes bursting? You could shut off your water supply and drain your pipes prior to your departure. Even though it might seem trivial, your insurance company wants to guarantee that it isn’t covering a house that is at higher risk than originally agreed upon.

The older your home is, the more beneficial it is to give your house a good once-over before you go. This is especially true if you’re leaving for the winter or any longer trips. Check your roof, your appliances, and so on to ensure they’re in good working order. Make sure your house’s doors are all locked when you leave, including pet doors and garage doors. This guide offers more thorough steps for preparing your home inside and out for your vacation.

How long can I leave my house unoccupied? Many people ask how long can you leave your house unattended, Many insurance policies impose a time limit on property vacancy, typically around 30 days. Exceeding this limit could render your policy null and void.

What are the home insurance rules for when I’m on vacation?

Duration of Vacancy: When your home remains unoccupied for over 30 consecutive days, it’s classified as vacant.

Policy Details: Dive into the nitty-gritty of your insurance policy. Understand the specific inspection requirements and compliance measures for your home, along with the permissible duration of vacancy.

Risks of Vacant Properties: Empty homes are magnets for risks like break-ins, vandalism, and water damage. Regular inspections are your shield against these threats.

Coverage Implications: Neglecting inspection requirements could lead to reduced coverage, policy cancellations, or claim denials if an incident occurs.

Consult Your Insurer: Don’t hesitate to reach out to your insurance provider. Clarify any uncertainties regarding inspection protocols and ensure strict adherence to policy terms.

By staying vigilant and implementing these measures, you can keep your home secure and your insurance coverage intact while you’re away.

Why do I need a house-sitter? There is a section in most home insurance policies that restrict how much an insurer is obligated to pay out if damages are incurred while a house is left vacant and unsupervised. It only takes an instant for a situation to arise, no matter how short of a time you are away for. Additionally, damages can be mitigated if they are stopped early enough – such as if a tap started to leak – but with no one to regularly monitor the state of your home these issues can grow out of control and cause some serious problems.

It’s not uncommon for costly repairs to arise due to negligence over a long period. But as long as you are up to date on the upkeep of your home and can demonstrate this to your insurer, your coverage should remain secure.

Vacation Planning: Navigating Home, Condo, and Tenant Insurance for Peace of Mind. When you’re planning a vacation, it’s crucial to consider how your home insurance, including condo and tenant insurance, fits into the picture. For homeowners, ensuring the security of your property during your absence is paramount. Before you embark on your journey, it’s advisable to notify your insurance provider about your travel plans. This can help in case of any unexpected incidents like burglaries or damages, as your provider can offer guidance on the necessary steps to take.

Condo owners should also stay informed about their condo association’s insurance policies. Typically, the condo association’s insurance covers the building structure, but personal belongings and improvements made to the condo may require additional coverage. Before leaving for your vacation, double-check your condo insurance policy to ensure you have adequate protection.

For renters, tenant insurance plays a significant role during vacations. It not only covers your personal belongings but also provides liability coverage. In case of an incident in your rental property while you’re away, tenant insurance can help safeguard your interests. Before you travel, make sure you understand the terms of your policy and have your insurance documents readily accessible.

In summary, whether you’re a homeowner, condo owner, or tenant, reviewing your insurance policies and communicating your travel plans with your provider is a prudent step before going on vacation. It ensures that you’re adequately protected and can enjoy your getaway with peace of mind.

Did you know? If you’re new to home insurance, here’s a quick fact: The average cost to insure a home in Calgary is $1,923, slightly higher than the provincial average of $1,837 per year. In comparison, the average cost to get a home insurance in Edmonton is $1,504 annually.

If you aren’t certain as to what your responsibilities are, consider reading over your home insurance policy. Alternatively, you could always ask your home insurance broker to clarify for you. By doing this, you can formulate an appropriate plan for this sort of situation.

ORIGINALLY FOUND ON- Source: Sharp Insurance(https://sharpinsurance.ca/blog/home/how-to-keep-your-home-insurance-current-on-vacation/)

#Sharp Insurance #Sharp Insurance Brokers

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crystalgastles · 2 months ago

Text

After the flesh

This is a very rough draft of the first chapter of my Jeff the killer fanfiction please spare me if you find any grammar mistakes

Trigger warning for normal Jeff the killer stuff

Rain pattered outside my window, the cold grey of the morning stinging my eyes as the dull feeling of a headache began to brew at the bottom of my temples. My teeth felt sore.

The remnants of last nights events began slowly moving to the forefront of my mind and the reminder that I had to work a nine hour shift was threatening to make my hangover worse.

The coffee in my hand was bitter and the cigarette that graced my lips as I pulled from its burning embers was hot on my lungs. I should have stolen more sugar packets from work.

I could work up the courage to call out, use an excuse that no one wanted to ask more about but I need the money, rent was over due and I’m two weeks away from having the water and electricity cut out. Another drag out the cracked window, another sip of the coffee I don’t have cream or enough sugar to make bearable.

——————————————————————————

I never know anymore. Lines blur the faces are warped, people look like animals the more I do this. Man sins he runs to church, monster sins he runs to the bottle, and I am no man.

——————————————————————————

The diners bright lights practically blinded me as I tried to get through the day. Zombies had more energy than I did at this point and tips were slow. I couldn’t blame the customers, but it would put a spring in my step if I got more than a five percent tip for large groups I mean, Can seven business men not afford more than five dollars to spare between all of them?

Cold ice water spilled down the front of my uniform as the clatter of glass hit the ground in a sharp ear piercing crack. I had tripped on one of their feet, made to look like an accident but it was because I forgot more creamer. I was sure if it. Fabric uncomfortably clung to my skin as one of them giggled like a school girl. “Jesus” I whispered harshly under my breath and didn’t turn back to face them before I ran to the back room.

Someone else could clean it.

The end of my shift and I could even hold it together. I removed my apron and clocked out without telling anyone.

——————————————————————————-

Politician. I killed a local politicians whole entire family.

Not that I particularly care about politics, quite a distaste for them actually. Police tend to work harder to find the people who harm them even at the local level.

I followed at a distance, hood up. The cloudy cold weather allowed me to have it that way without suspicion. I just wanted to see where they lived. I’d deal with it later.

———————————————————————————

My keys clinked on the glass of the entry way table into my shared apartment. My roommate wasn’t home yet but I saw the mess of papers, boxes, a box cutter, fake skin for practice and a half drunk Red Bull on the coffee table and knew she hadn’t been gone long. They’d never learn to pick up after themselves.

I shivered, my front still wet from the water spilled on my brightly colored and obnoxiously 50s themed uniform. I needed a shower and to change.

Warm water cascaded down my back while I sat with my knees to my chest, focusing my eyes on the vinyl coating on the shower wall that’s been slowly starting to peel. I hate the mundane, I wish for just once , something different would grace my life. Something that’s not wake up, go to work, smoke a cigarette, shower, watch tv, check the landline for messages that my mother still sent me, begging me to come home. I can’t.

I watched the remainder of my hair dye fall down the drain as I turned the water off, I would keep it on forever if it stayed warm. The rough material of an old towel wrapped around my body while I brushed my wet hair and then my teeth, got dressed in an old South Park t shirt I had from high school that my dad gave me, one of the only things we ever bonded over was that show. I swallowed the guilty feeling that overcame my senses as I pulled on my sweatpants and clipped my hair back so my wet hair wouldn’t stain my shirt. Perks of having dye that never seems to fully Rinse out.

The yellow glow of our singular lamp bathed the living room in a warm light, the couch seemed to sink in on me while the tv played some sitcom I wasn’t too invested in.

Tap tap tap

The unmistakable sound of fingers on glass made me turn my head towards our sliding door, I grabbed the box cutter sitting on the coffee table. Something my roommate left out after she had finished opening a package, her forgetfulness becoming something I was grateful for in this moment.

I could see a figure. My own reflection in the glass obscuring my late night visitor’s appearance as I approached the door. Seeing it was unlocked as the glass slowly started to slide open.

She forgot to lock the door.

A large black boot slapped onto the linoleum, wet with rain. The white hoodie the intruder was wearing, covered in red. The rain that had seeped into the fabric had turned the large splotches pink around the edges of what i could only assume was blood. And I didn’t want mine on there next.

Exposing the box cutters blade I ran at him, yelling obscenities as I hopped onto his back, a low grunt escaping his lips as he tried to pull me off and throw me onto my own kitchen floor,

Large calloused hands tried to grab at my arms as I wildly slashed without really looking. blood dripped onto my hands when I sliced his arm with the box cutter.

He grabbed my wrist and pried me off of his back, grabbing my shoulders and slamming me against the ground.

Kicking, screaming, and biting I eventually got out from under him after I bit down his palm hard enough to draw blood and to feel his skin rupture between my teeth. I ran to my room, grabbing my flip phone off the living room table as he was preoccupied,clutching his hand where I had bit him and tried to shut the door but a steel toed boot stood in my way.

A deep gravely voice barely loud enough to hear came from the other side of the flimsy wood that was cracking in between my non stop pushing and the leather and steel on the other side

“I don’t want to hurt you. I need a place to sleep.”

What the fuck.

I tried to think, of something anything that would make him scared enough of me to leave but I kept drawing blanks. My lungs still trying to catch up with me.

“I have a roommate! He’s big and will be home in ten minutes, I have a shotgun in my closet if you don’t get out right now I’m blowing a hole through your stomach”

I lied. All I had was a box cutter that he now had, and a scrawny caffeine addict who was not a he who wouldn’t be home until six in the morning.

“You should go get it then, cause I’d rather have a hole in my stomach than be in a jail cell for the rest of my life”

The creaking from the door opening further brought me back down to earth, his foot swiping mine off balance causing me to fall back and balance myself on the wall, allowing the door to fully open as he stepped through, hands up as a show of surrender.

——————————————————————————

I returned to the townhouse three hours later, crouching behind a large bush right while I waited for one of the men from the diner to step out the back door and onto the patio, bong in hand.

As if on queue I heard the glass back door open, to my surprise both of them stepped out, one carrying a small bag and the other carrying the large glass bong shaped like a family guy character.

Assholes. Stereotype defining assholes.

The water sloshed inside of the bowl when one of the men stood up, both backs turned to me as I lunged at one of them from the bush, large Bowie knife clutched.

Sharp Metal pierced between skin muscle and bone, the squelch of blood and raw screaming disturbed the peace of the quiet neighborhood, the glass bong shattering as it hit the concrete. The sound wasn’t as funny I guess when you’re being stabbed through the spinal cord.

The first one was swift. The man fell to the ground and was sobbing while his friend, the one who tripped the server stood dumbly off to the side.

I lifted his head by his shortly cropped and gelled hair, the crunchy pompous locks making me want to vomit.

“Open your mouth.”

“W-what?” The cracked voice of the man annoyed me. Once so proud and full of arrogance reduced to a babbling child

“Are you deaf I said open your fucking mouth.”

He did as I said, and as I placed his front teeth on the metal feet of the patio stable and kicked down. The sickening crunch of his teeth and skull satisfied me. He’d finally stop laughing.

I turned to the other man, who was now holding a wooden board.

I pulled my knife out of his friend’s back, looking him in the eye and slowly wiping the carnage off on the paper white of my sweatshirt, lightly laughing to myself.

“What was your friends name?”

The man swallowed, Lowering the board and taking a shaking breath before looking back at me

“Look man if I owe you money or something, I don’t make the Coke I just deal it, I can give you the guys number or-“

I shook my head. This guy watched his friend get curb stomped and he was worried that he owed me money

“Do none of you listen? It’s like you can only hear yourselves, what was your friends name sweetheart”

I was wasting time. The neighbors definitely heard and or seen what had happened. I would be hearing sirens soon enough. I needed to get this over with.

“Ronnie, um his name was Ronnie”

He finally answered my question and I let out a breath as I took a slow and deliberate step forward, tilting my head so I’d be at eye level with him. Keeping quiet while he just stood there as if waiting for me to make a move instead of actually doing anything to stop me or using that wooden board he had so lovingly clutched.

I stopped, tracing the blade along my fingertip. His unwillingness to fight back making me want him to just smack me square in the face with that wood just to prove to me that he wasn’t all talk, and that he didn’t only like to pick on people he deemed lower than him.

“It’s harder for a rich man to get into heaven than it is for a camel to travel through the eye of a needle”

Tears ran down his face as he let the board fall on the concrete, sniffling when he twisted his face to try and figure out what I meant “What does that even mean”

“I’ll see you where we both belong”

The knife slipped through the fabric of his shirt as his blood dripped onto the front of my jacket, the friction of flesh similar to when you slice an orange in half. One after the other after the other until his body resembled hamburger meat. I only stopped when i could hear sirens in the distance, my anger finally subsiding in a dull guilt.

I hopped the fence of the small back yard, running into back alley ways and parts of the city that were abandoned at night, only resuming when the sun came over the trees.

My lungs burned as I coughed, and sprinted through the streets. Hardly being able to catch a breath as sirens grew closer, reminding me I had to keep running.

I saw the tv on from the other side but couldn’t quite make out who was watching it from the other side, the light from a street lamp casting a glare on the glass. They probably weren’t even home.

I searched for the door handle, my fingers accidentally tapping on the glass when I finally found it, unlocked. I pulled on the door the loud scraping sound surely alerting whoever was home if there was anyone there at all of my presence.

I didn’t have time to react when screaming ensued, weight suddenly on my shoulders as whoever was sitting on the living room couch was on me, yelling at me to get out and waving around a box cutter wildly.

I reached up, grabbing this persons wrist and also thrashing, whoever this was was hell bent on staying on my back, getting me out, or stabbing me.

There was a sharp sting in my forearm as they sliced me in an upward motion that i could only hope didn’t hit any major arteries, can’t go to the hospital when you’re wanted in all fifty states.

A few kicks to the stomach I can deal with, wiggling is easy to endure, teeth tearing through my fingers is not something I ever want to feel again.

“I don’t want to hurt you I just need a place to sleep”

#fanfiction #creepypasta #jeff the killer #jeff the killer x oc #jeff the killer x reader #eyeless jack #jane the killer #nina the killer #slenderman #creepypasta fandom #creepypasta fanfic

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thebachelordiaries · 4 years ago

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Clare seeks HIMBO: ‘The Bachelorette’ cast first impressions

The Covid-19 pandemic has been rough for the entire world, but Bachelor Nation faced some dark days too. Going eight months without a single new episode from The Bachelor franchise is something I would really like to not relive.

Fortunately, those dark days are over. Clare’s season has me sucked back in.

The quality of this image is atrocious.

Most of these men—presuming they followed CDC’s social distancing guidelines— haven’t seen a woman in months, are touch deprived, possibly unemployed and contemplating moving back to their hometown while stalking the housing market on Zillow. Everyone’s desperate. That makes for some pretty good TV.

This season features men ranging from ages 26 to 41. We’ve got a boy band manager, a grooming specialist, several men who look like they masturbate in front of full length mirrors and even more who probably want me to join their MLM pyramid scheme.

I’ve never been more ready to roast a bunch of men who have nightmares about going bald. It’s all I’ve wanted to do since March.

Let’s go:

AJ, 28, Software sales

AJ is the kind of guy who writes “Looking for the Pam to my Jim <3″ on his Bumble profile. His bio is generic and probably not reflective of who he is as a person. If I were Clare I’d swipe left.

Ben, 29, Army ranger veteran

“Ben's favorite indulgence is an ice bath.“ Well then.

Alexa, play “Run” by AWOLNATION.

Bennett, 36, Wealth management consultant

Bennett’s profile is the biggest red flag I’ve ever seen. This man says he is the total package but hasn’t always been "this successful and good looking.” But wait, there’s more: “According to Bennett, his high school girlfriend is the only girl he's ever had to work for.“

Can someone tell me what NYC neighborhood he lives in so I can blacklist it?

Blake M1, 31, Male grooming specialist

Blake’s just another stereotypical “29th round draft pick who sat on the bench of the practice team before getting cut, but claims he left the sport due to an injury on his own accord.”

Blake M2, 29, Wildlife manager

This Blake is an outdoorsy Canadian who seems pretty genuine and cool. Unfortunately, he has the face of someone who’d get sent home on night one. I hope I’m wrong.

Brandon, 28, Real Estate Agent

Just another boring hot person. Nothing to see here.

Brendan, 30, Commercial roofer

Brandan, not to be confused for Brandon, “loves some good true crime, working out and hanging out with his friends.” I can’t even make fun of this man. We have the exact same interests.

Chasen, 31, IT account executive

The Winklevoss twins are actually triplets and Chasen is their long lost brother. But more seriously, have you ever seen someone who looks more like their name than this man?

Chris, 27, Landscape design salesman

“Chris hopes to find a woman who is sharp and witty but also easygoing.” Chris, sweetheart, have you met Clare? Easygoing...? There’s still time back out of this before it’s too late.

Dale, 31, Former pro football wide receiver

Dale aggressively screams “Bachelor material.” I’d say he’s auditioning for that role but Matt James already scooped it up. Better luck next year, Daley.

Demar, 26, Spin cycling instructor

Demar is a “very popular spin instructor in Scottsdale and says he can get on that bike and spin to any beat thrown his way.” Imagine how many trophy wives Demar has f*cked?

Eazy, 29, Sports marketing agent

Eazy is very similar to Dale on paper. Except his name is Eazy so he automatically loses that battle.

Ed, 33, Health care salesman

“Ed is looking to find a woman who has natural beauty without looking overly fake.” Ed deserves to die alone.

Garin, 34, Professor of Journalism

Garin’s bio is giving me hubby material vibes. And maybe a little bit of a “gets eliminated on night one” vibe too.

Ivan, 28, Aeronautical Engineer

Ivan, what are you doing here? We’re in a recession. Please go back to your normal job before it’s too late.

Jason, 31, Former pro football linemen

“He is a former NFL offensive lineman who, after suffering too many concussions on the field, decided to prioritize his health and change the direction of his life.” A big, brawny HIMBO with CTE? I feel like he’s Clare’s type.

Jay, 29, Fitness director

There are too many things about Jay that I dislike and I’m trying to keep this brief. Jay says “it's time to take a break from worrying about others and focus on himself instead.” I am willing to bet money that this man has never made a woman c*m.

Jeremy, 40, Banker

Jeremy is the oldest contestant ever to come on "The Bachelorette,” which may seem like a monuments accomplishment but he’s literally only one year older than Clare.

He also “hates Instagram models, both male and female,” so he should have a lot of fun here.

Joe, 36, Anesthesiologist

Before I even saw his profession and location, I thought Joe looked like a doctor I’d find on a NYC dating app...and...uh...I probably did see him on there now that I think about it.

Anyway, this man has apparently been through seven stages of hell while on the front lines fighting Covid-19 in NYC so I definitely think he deserves to find love. Someone marry him please.

Jordan C, 26, Software account executive

I can already tell Jordan is going to get the “I’m young but mature” edit which means he’s probably not going to be good TV.

Too bad someone a tad younger (like Tayshia) wasn’t the Bachelorette. I feel like they’d make a cute couple.

Jordan M., 30, Cyber security engineer

I was going to say something mean but Jordan’s into cyber security and I don’t want my blog to be deactivated, so never mind. Cast photos are historically bad so I’m sure he looks much better in real life.

Kenny, 39, Boy band manager

I could go for the obvious drags regarding this man’s profession (or his sh*tty chest tattoo, or his suspiciously boyish face relative to his age), but I like to think I’m more clever than that.

I’d like to take this time to talk about men, who are obviously difficult people, who rant and rave about how they want an “easygoing” woman. Look into the mirror, bud. No, not the one you use to jerk off to your reflection; the mirror that looks into your soul. Out of respect for the rest of humankind, have some self-awareness. Or maybe just see a therapist.

Mike, 38, Digital media advisor

Mike is seemingly a decent catch, but I can’t help but wonder why he’s still single or how he never (accidentally or on purpose) impregnated a woman in his 38 years of life.

And now that I’m thinking about it, do any of these men have children? I have yet to see any mention of it in their bios. But there are eight men left to review, so there’s still time.

Page, 37, Chef

I spoke too soon. Page is a father! He also hates football! I’m a fan of this man. I was initially going to drag him for his name and say that Page is not a real name. PAIGE is a real name. PAGE is a piece of paper. I’m allowed to say this because we have the same name except mine is spelled the correct way. Based on my (mostly positive) review of his cast bio, I have decided not to hold his name against him.

Riley, 30, Long Island City

Riley, once married with children, would like to go on a family vacation that consists of touring every single MLB stadium in the country. If i were his wife, I would simply never give this man children.

Robby, 30, Insurance broker

No more Robbys on The Bachelorette. Society has evolved past its need for more Robbys.

This Robby described his dream woman as: “Incredibly athletic and able to throw back a few beers with him after a day of hiking. She has a sweet personality and won't mind that he spends his Sundays on the golf course.”

Someone please give this man a sex doll. He just wants a hole.

Tyler C., 27, Lawyer

“Tyler C. is a badass lawyer who says he is a businessman by day and a cowboy by night.” How does that make him a lawyer? Does this mean he’s into cosplay? I’m confused.

Tyler S., 36, Music manager

Tyler makes an honorable living off riding his brother’s dick success as a country singer. “He just LOVES his job!” Uh yeah, I would too if I had a low-show, high-paying job off the merits of nepotism. It’s the American dream.

Yosef, 30, Medical device salesman

Another dad! He’s totally going to pull the “girl dad” narrative. That saying is kind of sexist to me but the masses generally eat it up, so I’m fairly confident Yosef will get the "sweet guy” edit he’s looking for.

Zac C., 36, Addiction specialist

“He loves Philadelphia sports and dreams of sharing a Philly Cheesesteak with his future wife while watching the Eagles win a Super Bowl.” This man is so South Jersey it hurts.

On a more serious note, I don’t think anyone in recent history has spoken openly about their personal struggle with addiction on this show, so I hope Zac gets a chance to tell his story.

Zach J., 37, Cleaning service owner

Zach is seemingly obsessed with Clare already and hopes to introduce her to his mom as his fiancée. Since Zach watched Clare on Juan Pablo’s season, you’d think he’d know that Clare would first meet his mom during the final four hometown dates. Assuming he makes it that far. My prediction is that he won’t.

Final thoughts

After eight long months Bachelor Mondays are back!!!

Uhh....wait.

Actually, we now have the less-exciting Bachelor Tuesdays. Yeah, it definitely doesn’t have the same ring to it. But I’ll take anything at this point.

Here are my final predictions:

First impression rose: Dale. It just looks like he can turn on the bullsh*t charm

Final rose: Jason. Clare wants a HIMBO I just know it.

Bachelor: nobody (Matt James is The Bachelor)

Most likely to get engaged on Bachelor in Paradise: Blake M2

Most likely to get canceled online: Bennett

Most likely to get sent home night one but deserve better: Chris

Who are your favorite men cast on this season?

#The Bachelorette #abc #clare crawley #chris harrison #photo credit: ABC

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firsthopemedia · 3 years ago

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Wall Street, October 1929 FIRST HOPE FINANCIAL http://firsthope.biz Claud Cockburn, writing for the "Times of London" from New-York, described the irrational exuberance that gripped the nation just prior to the Great Depression. As Europe wallowed in post-war malaise, America seemed to have discovered a new economy, the secret of uninterrupted growth and prosperity, the fount of transforming technology: "The atmosphere of the great boom was savagely exciting, but there were times when a person with my European background felt alarmingly lonely. He would have liked to believe, as these people believed, in the eternal upswing of the big bull market or else to meet just one person with whom he might discuss some general doubts without being regarded as an imbecile or a person of deliberately evil intent - some kind of anarchist, perhaps." The greatest analysts with the most impeccable credentials and track records failed to predict the forthcoming crash and the unprecedented economic depression that followed it. Irving Fisher, a preeminent economist, who, according to his biographer-son, Irving Norton Fisher, lost the equivalent of $140 million in today's money in the crash, made a series of soothing predictions. On October 22 he uttered these avuncular statements: "Quotations have not caught up with real values as yet ... (There is) no cause for a slump ... The market has not been inflated but merely readjusted..." Even as the market convulsed on Black Thursday, October 24, 1929 and on Black Tuesday, October 29 - the New York Times wrote: "Rally at close cheers brokers, bankers optimistic". In an editorial on October 26, it blasted rabid speculators and compliant analysts: "We shall hear considerably less in the future of those newly invented conceptions of finance which revised the principles of political economy with a view solely to fitting the stock market's vagaries.'' But it ended thus: "(The Federal Reserve has) insured the soundness of the business situation when the speculative markets went on the rocks.'' Compare this to Alan Greenspan Congressional testimony this summer: "While bubbles that burst are scarcely benign, the consequences need not be catastrophic for the economy ... (The Depression was brought on by) ensuing failures of policy." Investors, their equity leveraged with bank and broker loans, crowded into stocks of exciting "new technologies", such as the radio and mass electrification. The bull market - especially in issues of public utilities - was fueled by "mergers, new groupings, combinations and good earnings" and by corporate purchasing for "employee stock funds". Cautionary voices - such as Paul Warburg, the influential banker, Roger Babson, the "Prophet of Loss" and Alexander Noyes, the eternal Cassandra from the New York Times - were derided. The number of brokerage accounts doubled between March 1927 and March 1929. When the market corrected by 8 percent between March 18-27 - following a Fed induced credit crunch and a series of mysterious closed-door sessions of the Fed's board - bankers rushed in. The New York Times reported: "Responsible bankers agree that stocks should now be supported, having reached a level that makes them attractive.'' By August, the market was up 35 percent on its March lows. But it reached a peak on September 3 and it was downhill since then. On October 19, five days before "Black Thursday", Business Week published this sanguine prognosis: "Now, of course, the crucial weaknesses of such periods - price inflation, heavy inventories, over-extension of commercial credit - are totally absent. The security market seems to be suffering only an attack of stock indigestion... There is additional reassurance in the fact that, should business show any further signs of fatigue, the banking system is in a good position now to administer any needed credit tonic from its excellent Reserve supply." The crash unfolded gradually. Black Thursday actually ended with an inspiring rally. Friday and Saturday - trading ceased only on Sundays - witnessed an upswing followed by mild profit taking. The market dropped 12.8 percent on Monday, with Winston Churchill watching from the visitors' gallery - incurring a loss of $10-14 billion. The Wall Street Journal warned naive investors: "Many are looking for technical corrective reactions from time to time, but do not expect these to disturb the upward trend for any prolonged period." The market plummeted another 11.7 percent the next day - though trading ended with an impressive rally from the lows. October 31 was a good day with a "vigorous, buoyant rally from bell to bell". Even Rockefeller joined the myriad buyers. Shares soared. It seemed that the worst was over. The New York Times was optimistic: "It is thought that stocks will become stabilized at their actual worth levels, some higher and some lower than the present ones, and that the selling prices will be guided in the immediate future by the worth of each particular security, based on its dividend record, earnings ability and prospects. Little is heard in Wall Street these days about 'putting stocks up." But it was not long before irate customers began blaming their stupendous losses on advice they received from their brokers. Alec Wilder, a songwriter in New York in 1929, interviewed by Stud Terkel in "Hard Times" four decades later, described this typical exchange with his money manager: "I knew something was terribly wrong because I heard bellboys, everybody, talking about the stock market. About six weeks before the Wall Street Crash, I persuaded my mother in Rochester to let me talk to our family adviser. I wanted to sell stock which had been left me by my father. He got very sentimental: 'Oh your father wouldn't have liked you to do that.' He was so persuasive, I said O.K. I could have sold it for $160,000. Four years later, I sold it for $4,000." Exhausted and numb from days of hectic trading and back office operations, the brokerage houses pressured the stock exchange to declare a two day trading holiday. Exchanges around North America followed suit. At first, the Fed refused to reduce the discount rate. "(There) was no change in financial conditions which the board thought called for its action." - though it did inject liquidity into the money market by purchasing government bonds. Then, it partially succumbed and reduced the New York discount rate, which, curiously, was 1 percent above the other Fed districts - by 1 percent. This was too little and too late. The market never recovered after November 1. Despite further reductions in the discount rate to 4 percent, it shed a whopping 89 percent in nominal terms when it hit bottom three years later. Everyone was duped. The rich were impoverished overnight. Small time margin traders - the forerunners of today's day traders - lost their shirts and much else besides. The New York Times: "Yesterday's market crash was one which largely affected rich men, institutions, investment trusts and others who participate in the market on a broad and intelligent scale. It was not the margin traders who were caught in the rush to sell, but the rich men of the country who are able to swing blocks of 5,000, 10,000, up to 100,000 shares of high-priced stocks. They went overboard with no more consideration than the little trader who was swept out on the first day of the market's upheaval, whose prices, even at their lowest of last Thursday, now look high by comparison ... To most of those who have been in the market it is all the more awe-inspiring because their financial history is limited to bull markets." Overseas - mainly European - selling was an important factor. Some conspiracy theorists, such as Webster Tarpley in his "British Financial Warfare", supported by contemporary reporting by the likes of "The Economist", went as far as writing: "When this Wall Street Bubble had reached gargantuan proportions in the autumn of 1929, (Lord) Montagu Norman (governor of the Bank of England 1920-1944) sharply (upped) the British bank rate, repatriating British hot money, and pulling the rug out from under the Wall Street speculators, thus deliberately and consciously imploding the US markets. This caused a violent depression in the United States and some other countries, with the collapse of financial markets and the contraction of production and employment. In 1929, Norman engineered a collapse by puncturing the bubble." The crash was, in large part, a reaction to a sharp reversal, starting in 1928, of the reflationary, "cheap money", policies of the Fed intended, as Adolph Miller of the Fed's Board of Governors told a Senate committee, "to bring down money rates, the call rate among them, because of the international importance the call rate had come to acquire. The purpose was to start an outflow of gold - to reverse the previous inflow of gold into this country (back to Britain)." But the Fed had already lost control of the speculative rush. The crash of 1929 was not without its Enrons and World.com's. Clarence Hatry and his associates admitted to forging the accounts of their investment group to show a fake net worth of $24 million British pounds - rather than the true picture of 19 billion in liabilities. This led to forced liquidation of Wall Street positions by harried British financiers. The collapse of Middle West Utilities, run by the energy tycoon, Samuel Insull, exposed a web of offshore holding companies whose only purpose was to hide losses and disguise leverage. The former president of NYSE, Richard Whitney was arrested for larceny. Analysts and commentators thought of the stock exchange as decoupled from the real economy. Only one tenth of the population was invested - compared to 40 percent today. "The World" wrote, with more than a bit of Schadenfreude: "The country has not suffered a catastrophe ... The American people ... has been gambling largely with the surplus of its astonishing prosper

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newstfionline · 4 years ago

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Tuesday, April 27, 2021

Global defense spending (Foreign Policy) Global defense spending increased in 2020, despite a sharp downturn in the global economy, according to an annual report by the Stockholm International Peace Research Institute (SIPRI). Overall spending reached nearly $2 trillion, a 2.6 percent increase from the 2019 figure. Defense budgets in the Middle East fell by 6.5 percent, helped by a 10 percent cut by Saudi Arabia. The five biggest spenders—the United States, China, India, Russia, and the United Kingdom—all increased their defense spending in 2020.

Canadians avoiding hotel quarantines for air travellers fuel taxi boom on U.S. border (Reuters) U.S. taxi and limousine services are seeing a boom in business from customers seeking to enter Canada by land to avoid a restriction on international travel that applies only to air traffic. While both Canadian land and air travellers are required to take a test within three days of departure, and again on arrival, only those flying to Canada must spend up to three days of the country’s 14-day required quarantine period in a hotel. That has led to a surge of calls for taxi and limousine services from Canadians who fly through U.S. airports in states like New York and then cross over the land border. A taxi trip across the border can cost around $200 or $250 compared with a three-day hotel stay of more than C$1,200 ($961), Canadian travel insurance broker Martin Firestone said. With the Canada-U.S. land border mostly closed for more than a year due to the pandemic, and overall tourism down, the recent surge in business has come as a relief to some struggling taxi operators. Some Canadians ask to be driven home, while others take rides to the border, cross on foot and get another ride in Canada, drivers said.

Armed Groups Step Into Venezuela as Lawlessness Grows (NYT) They bring drinking water to residents in the arid scrublands, teach farming workshops and offer medical checkups. They mediate land disputes, fine cattle rustlers, settle divorces, investigate crimes and punish thieves. They’re not police officers, civil servants or members of the Venezuela government, which has all but disappeared from this impoverished part of the country. Quite the opposite: They belong to one of Latin America’s most notorious rebel groups, considered terrorists by the United States and the European Union for carrying out bombings and kidnappings over decades of violence. Venezuela’s economic collapse has so thoroughly gutted the country that insurgents have embedded themselves across large stretches of its territory, seizing upon the nation’s undoing to establish mini-states of their own. And far from fleeing in fear or demanding to be rescued by the authorities, many residents here in Venezuela’s borderlands—hungry, hunted by local drug gangs and long complaining of being abandoned by their government—have welcomed the terrorist group for the kind of protection and basic services the state is failing to provide. The insurgents “are the ones who brought stability here,” said Ober Hernández, an Indigenous leader on the Guajira peninsula next to Colombia. “They brought peace.”

Peru’s election (Foreign Policy) Left-wing candidate Pedro Castillo is heavily favored by Peru’s electorate ahead of the country’s June 6 presidential runoff, according to a recent poll; 41.5 percent of respondents backed Castillo in the Instituto de Estudios Peruanos survey, with his challenger Keiko Fujimori receiving only 21.5 percent support. Decisions surrounding the economy seemed to drive support for Castillo, with more than half of those expressing support for him saying they would support a total change to the country’s economic system. There is still a chance that the vote could be competitive: 34.7 percent of those surveyed wanted neither candidate or were undecided.

E.U. Set to Let Vaccinated U.S. Tourists Visit This Summer (NYT) American tourists who have been fully vaccinated against Covid-19 will be able to visit the European Union over the summer, the head of the bloc’s executive body said in an interview with The New York Times on Sunday, more than a year after shutting down nonessential travel from most countries to limit the spread of the coronavirus. The fast pace of vaccination in the United States, and advanced talks between authorities there and the European Union over how to make vaccine certificates acceptable as proof of immunity for visitors, will enable the European Commission, the executive branch of the European Union, to recommend a switch in policy that could see trans-Atlantic leisure travel restored. “The Americans, as far as I can see, use European Medicines Agency-approved vaccines,” Ursula von der Leyen, president of the European Commission, said Sunday in an interview with The Times in Brussels. “This will enable free movement and the travel to the European Union. She added that resumption of travel would depend “on the epidemiological situation, but the situation is improving in the United States, as it is, hopefully, also improving in the European Union.”

Italy’s Problem With School Dropouts Goes From Bad to Worse in Pandemic (NYT) Even before the pandemic, Italy had among the worst dropout rates in the European Union, and the southern city of Naples was particularly troubled by high numbers. When the coronavirus hit, Italy shuttered its schools more than just about all the other European Union member states, with especially long closures in the Naples region, pushing students out in even higher numbers. While it is too early for reliable statistics, principals, advocates and social workers say they have seen a sharp increase in the number of students falling out of the system. The impact on an entire generation may be one of the pandemic’s lasting tolls. Italy closed its schools—fully or in part—for 35 weeks in the first year of the pandemic—three times longer than France, and more than Spain or Germany. And experts say that by doing so, the country, which has Europe’s oldest population and was already lagging behind in critical educational indicators, has risked leaving behind its youth, its greatest and rarest resource for a strong post-pandemic recovery.

Virus ‘swallowing’ people in India; crematoriums overwhelmed (AP) With life-saving oxygen in short supply, families are left on their own to ferry people sick with COVID-19 from hospital to hospital in search of treatment as India is engulfed in a devastating surge of infections. Too often, their efforts end in mourning. On social media and in television footage, desperate relatives plead for oxygen outside hospitals or weep in the street for loved ones who died waiting for treatment. For the fourth straight day, India on Sunday set a global daily record of new coronavirus infections, spurred by an insidious new variant that emerged here. The surge has undermined the government’s premature claims of victory over the pandemic. The unfolding crisis is most visceral in India’s overwhelmed graveyards and crematoriums, and in heartbreaking images of gasping patients dying on their way to hospitals due to lack of oxygen. Burial grounds in the capital New Delhi are running out of space. Bright, glowing funeral pyres light up the night sky in other badly hit cities.

In leaked audio, Iran’s foreign minister laments interference by Revolutionary Guards (Washington Post) In leaked audio recordings made public Sunday, Iran’s foreign minister complained about interference by the Revolutionary Guard Corps in Tehran’s diplomatic affairs, including efforts to undermine the 2015 nuclear deal between Iran and world powers. The audio, which was released by the London-based Iran International news channel, came from a three-hour interview with the foreign minister, Mohammed Javad Zarif, that the channel said was conducted in March. Taken together, Zarif’s unvarnished comments and the fact the audio had leaked, highlighted the sharpening public rivalries within Iran’s political circles, as Tehran engages with global powers in a fresh attempt to revive the nuclear deal, and as Iranian elections approach. The leaked conversation was the latest salvo in what has become an increasingly caustic domestic Iranian debate over the nuclear deal, pitting “pragmatists” represented by Rouhani against a conservative camp wary of any engagement with the West. The factional fights are not a secret in Iran, which hosts political debates that are more expansive and vigorous than most countries in the Middle East.

#headlines #news

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ikesenhell · 5 years ago

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American Dream

AMERICAN DREAM, Chapter 1. You can find all other IkeSen works of mine here. NOTES: HOLY SHIT IT HAS BEEN A MINUTE. Thank you so much to @missjudge-me, who commissioned this whole piece. You have them to thank. I’m sorry it took so long for me to get back up, but being homeless and in grad school and working and getting formally diagnosed with an autoimmune illness and being in a pandemic and moving kinda takes it out of you. This was very fun to write. Enjoy!

---

Masamune wasn’t used to his childhood bedroom anymore. His mother had converted his loft bed desk into her scrapbooking station. That was fine, in theory, except that it meant two things: one, she hadn’t changed the sheets in actual years, and two, the loft bed was still there.

“Sweet!” He announced with a laugh, scaling the ladder in a single bound. It’d felt so tall once. He ducked low against the ceiling, pressing his back flat. “Holy hell, I was smaller then.”

“Duh.” His brother, Kojiro, smirked from the door. Time changed everything. Masamune felt so big when he was in high school himself, but looking at his teen brother changed his perspective. “You’re a big lunk now. You eat like The Rock.”

“I’ll take that as a compliment.” Masamune kicked off his boots and army-crawled into the loft.

“How much clearance you got?”

“Eh. Six inches from my chest to the ceiling?” He tried to roll onto his back and failed, laughing against the drywall. “Did you know about the time that I knocked myself out up here?”

Kojiro’s luminous blue eyes appeared over the lip of the bed. “Really?”

“Oh, yeah. Got too excited freshman year of high school, bolted straight up when the alarm went off.” He motioned at a dent in the ceiling. “I was late. Dad didn't stop laughing for about, I dunno—”

“—the whole ride there.” Kojiro chuckled. “Yeah. Sounds like him.”

The funeral wasn’t so far behind them that it didn't hurt, but it sure as hell hurt less. Masamune checked his knuckles into the dent. It was the whole reason for his coming home. His mother needed someone to sort out all of the old things, all the memories and bills she couldn’t bear to look at. It didn't matter that they’d never gotten along. Kojiro was her favorite; that was obvious (and Masamune couldn’t blame her for that, Kojiro was a joy by anyone’s standards). Even then he couldn’t let her hang in the lurch. His dad taught him better than that.

Damn. He missed his dad. Everywhere he looked in this old town, in this old house, were reminders. There was the trashy diner where they used to get the world’s best milkshakes once a week. There was the old stove with the broken burner they’d never replaced (because it was ‘perfectly good’) where he’d learned how to cook. And it wasn’t just his father he felt the absence of. Masamune fingered along the space between the wall and the loft bed where he’d pasted all the pictures and keepsakes from his friends. Him and Nobunaga, posing in a picture by the beach with matching glasses. Hideyoshi and Mitsunari peering at homework, Mitsuhide poised to drop an ice cube down his shirt. (Nobunaga was a broker in New York City, conquering Wall Street with Hideyoshi. Those two shared an apartment in SoHo, all the way across the country on the other coast. Hideyoshi worked with Nobunaga now, and no one knew what Mitsuhide did. Mitsunari was off in the Peace Corps.) There was a snapshot of Masamune and Ieyasu squished together in the back of an old 1960s Volkswagen Beetle his mom had for decades, Ieyasu frowning over a mouthful of jalapeno poppers. Ieyasu was a doctor in Maryland now. He was terrible at texting back, too. Masamune made a mental note to call.

And then there was Her.

Even after all this time, he missed their friendship. He fingered the worn photograph; After-Prom senior year, her in a bikini that made his stomach somersault, him holding her on his shoulders. She was laughing. He still wore the fake eye back then, and it sat oddly in the socket, but even that didn't take away from the sheer joy as he gazed up at her. When she lived with her parents in the little green house across the street, he used to build paper airplanes with stupid jokes scrawled in the folds and fling it at her window, hoping that they’d hit and knowing they never would. They’d measure how far it got from his front door and compare their poorly-kept notes, misremembering all the numbers.

Now she was out there in the world.

Kojiro craned his neck over the loft edge. “What’cha got up there?”

Masamune didn't answer that. Instead he wondered if she was happy. “If I’m gonna stay here for now, we gotta fix this situation. I’m too manly and brawny to fit up here. Wanna swap beds?”

“No! This thing is so uncool, you can’t get—” And the teenager furtively checked the doorway, lowering his voice. “You can’t get anyone up here with you.”

As an adult, Masamune rolled his eyes. As a brother, he snapped back, “I promise, you can.”

“Gross, why the fuck would I trade with you now—!?”

Downstairs, their mother shouted, “Who is swearing up there!?” Kojiro paled. Masamune, bolstered with smug elder brother energy, kicked him from the ladder.

“Move, punk! Run for your life! You fucked up!”

His mother, louder now. “Who said that?!”

“That was Masa!” Kojiro bellowed, fleeing the scene of the crime. “Masa said it that time!”

“That time!? Kojiro—!”

Masamune finally wriggled himself free from the narrow confines of the loft. On the way down, he pocketed the picture of Her.

---

The only reason he remembered the day his dad bought the ‘85 Camaro was his mother was well and truly pissed about it. It wasn’t a pretty looking thing then. Masamune later sussed out that his dad had picked it off a side road out in the country because it was ‘a nice looking car’ and ‘could be fixed up’. Of course it could. Maybe it was his time in the military, but there wasn’t a damn car under the sun that his dad couldn’t fix. The Camaro was better than new, but his mom drove a newer Hyundai, so it sat neglected in the garage, shiny and electric blue and begging for a test run. When Masamune backed it into the driveway, his mother sighed ragged.

“I ought to sell that thing,” she announced.

Masamune bit back his reflex answer of ‘not on my watch’ and replied, “Kojiro’s gonna need a car when he can drive.”

“I’m going to get him something new. A nice car. That one is too old for anything now.”

“I could take it.”

“You already have that infernal death trap.” She thumbed at the Harley parked in the grass, right where she hated it most. In the name of getting along, neither of them had mentioned it. “You don’t need another car payment. Besides, don’t you have anything better to do right now? We have all sorts of things to settle with your dad’s estate.”

“Ma, the car is paid off.” But she was right in one way; he did already have a vehicle, and paying the taxes and insurance on both was a waste. It was sort of pointless, keeping the car in the garage forever. “I can’t do anything until I get the extra copies of his death certificate, and that’s gonna be a minute. I ordered them today. Did you want me to put the car on Craigslist or something?”

She gazed at it, her steel expression softening. Ah, yes. There was his mother. His parents loved each other dearly. It just took moments like this to remember it.

“Would you?” She replied. Her feather soft voice broke his heart. “I can’t bear to do it.”

“Yeah, Ma. I’ll get it to a good home.”

---

All it really needed was a wash and an oil change. The guys at the auto parts store whistled enviously when they handed over the filters. No; it wouldn’t be hard to sell at all. No doubt he could post it on some Reddit forum and get a hundred hits in an hour.

Masamune was about to post the listing when fate intervened.

The driveway was warm on his bare back, the first chill wind of autumn cooling his shoulders. His phone was stark against the sharp blue sky, his shirt rolled under his hair.

A shadow fell over him. “Masa?”

He blinked his only good eye, floundering against the sudden contrast. The woman murmured an apology, stepped away, and blinded him with sunlight again.

“Hey!” He laugh-yelped, rolling onto his stomach. “Goddamn!”

“Oh my God, I’m so sorry—”

“No, no, it’s fine.” He clutched at the Camaro’s bumper and pulled himself up, blinking sundots away. “Gimme a sec, hang on.”

And then—she swam into view, all bright eyes and curves and nothing like she used to be and everything like she used to be and so much better. Was this his friend, this fully grown woman with a face like all his best memories? Where his words? He was usually so good with them.

“That you, Masamune?” She asked, the ghost of a smile on her mouth.

“Well, hell.” SAY SOMETHING, YOU STUPID BASTARD. He forced a grin back—but then it arrived all on its own. “Wow. Damn. Where have you been this whole time, Kitten, Hollywood? You runnin’ everyone out of a job out there? Puttin’ those Hadids out of work?”

Her laugh was the same. Good God, it sent shivers all the way down his spine and into his toes. Her eyes crinkled and he wondered if he could bottle that expression. “You’re still calling me Kitten, huh?”

“Your fault for wearing cat socks all the time. I don’t see a reason to stop now, ‘specially now that you blinded me in my own driveway.”

Even her eye roll was a shot of nostalgia to the veins. What now? Did he shake hands? Masamune stared at his oil-slicked palms from changing the filter. “Well, if you don’t mind me smearing grease all over you… Shit, what am I asking for?”

“Oh my God, Masamune, do not rub motor oil on me!”

“Too late!” He charged forward. She squealed but didn't run; he caught her around the waist and squashed her against him, bringing her feet from the ground. Those eyes were wide with surprise and delight and so much joy. Something smelled of cinnamon and cloves. “God, is that your shampoo?”

“Yeah.”

“It’s great. You look great.”

She batted against his chest, wriggling in his grasp. “And you bulked up. What, you one of those CrossFit junkies or something now?”

“C’mon, don’t insult me like that. Their form is terrible.”

“And you ditched the glass eye.”

“It was hurting. Figured I might as well let the lid close up and deal with it. Not like I could see from it anyway.”

But she laced her hands around the back of his neck and tapped just above his brow. Such easy physical intimacy. Oh, how he’d missed that! They’d always been the most handsy of the friend group, never shying away from each other. “I wasn’t complaining. You rock the pirate look, Captain.”

Masamune snickered and clicked his tongue. “I’ll own that. I love some booty.”

With a roll of her eyes, she let the comment slide. “You busy? Wanna catch up?”

At last he let her slide from his arms, setting her feet on the ground. Why was the world so much colder when her body parted from his? “Hell yeah. Let me make you some gyoza and we’ll chat.”

#American Dream #commission #ikesen masamune #modern au #roadtrip story #angst #death mention tw

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