#Sunday afternoon lurking time

[sylusonychinus]

I really like you

Pairings: Zayne x Fem Reader

Summary: "but boy i like you...i really really like you" really like you (babymonster)

It was always there, lurking in the corners of her heart—quiet, gentle, and entirely untouchable. The secret love she had for Zayne, her best friend since high school, had quietly grown with her through the years. From study dates to late-night talks about life, the universe, and their future, Zayne had always been there—like an unshakable constant in her life. But she’d kept her feelings hidden, buried deep, not wanting to risk their friendship for something that could be fleeting.

They had first met in high school. Zayne had that kind of charm that made him instantly likable. He was the guy everyone could talk to, easygoing and thoughtful, but also someone who carried an innate warmth that made others feel special. She’d admired him from the start, though she never let it show. He was always just a friend to her, even when her heart would flutter when he smiled, or when he helped her through difficult moments—always offering a hand, never expecting anything in return.

Even after high school, their paths continued to intertwine. They both got accepted to the same medical school, and their friendship deepened as they spent long hours studying together, always finding themselves sharing notes, joking about the absurdity of exams, and supporting each other through the grind. Zayne was an open book, never hiding his emotions. He was the kind of guy who looked out for everyone—whether it was a random classmate or an elderly woman on the street who needed help carrying her groceries. He gave selflessly, often without realizing the depth of his kindness.

But despite their closeness, she had kept her feelings locked away. The thought of ruining their friendship, of disrupting the bond they shared, terrified her. What if he didn’t feel the same way? What if it made everything awkward between them? She couldn’t risk that. So, she buried her love beneath layers of laughter and companionship.

One evening, during their second year of medical school, they found themselves sitting on the rooftop of their apartment building after a long study session. The sunset was painting the sky in shades of orange and pink, and they had a quiet, rare moment to just breathe.

“You know,” Zayne said, glancing at the sky, “I’ve always wanted to do something meaningful with my life. It’s not enough just to know all the medical stuff. I want to help people in a way that goes beyond just prescriptions and treatments.”

She smiled softly, watching the way the light made his eyes shine with passion. This was what she loved about him—his heart was always in the right place.

“You already do,” she said, her voice quiet but sincere. “You’ve always helped people. You’re always there when someone needs you. It’s what makes you... well, you.”

Zayne laughed, brushing his hair out of his face. “I just do what feels right. I guess that’s why I’m still helping Mrs. Jensen with her garden every Sunday afternoon, even though I don’t have time for it.”

She paused at the mention of Mrs. Jensen. She remembered seeing him help her when they were in high school—how Zayne would go over to the elderly woman's house every weekend without fail, cutting her lawn, bringing her groceries, and spending time with her when no one else did. It wasn’t something Zayne talked about much, but it was always there—a soft reminder of how big his heart was.

That was when it hit her. She had fallen in love with him, not because of grand gestures or dramatic confessions, but because of moments like this. Because of how he took care of the elderly lady when no one else had time to. Because of how he never changed, despite the years passing and the challenges of med school. She had fallen in love with Zayne because he was everything she could ever want in a person��kind, selfless, genuine—and yet, he didn’t even realize the quiet strength of his heart.

She looked at him, a slight pang of realization pulling at her chest. She had loved him for so long, and it wasn’t just about the little moments anymore. It was about the person he was—the person who cared without asking for anything in return.

Zayne caught her gaze and smiled. “You know, I think this might be one of my favorite spots. It’s peaceful up here. I can just... think, you know?”

“Yeah,” she said softly, her heart thudding a little faster in her chest. “I know what you mean.”

For a long moment, they simply sat in silence, the city lights twinkling below them, as if the universe itself was holding its breath.

Zayne’s voice broke the quiet. “I’ve been thinking, too. About the future. You know, the kind of doctor I want to be.”

She turned to him, curiosity piquing in her eyes. “What kind of doctor do you want to be?”

“A doctor who listens,” he said, his expression soft and sincere. “A doctor who really sees people, not just their illness. Someone who doesn’t just treat the body, but takes care of the person.”

Her heart clenched. It was exactly what she had been falling in love with all along. The way he treated people—not just as patients, but as individuals with lives, hopes, and dreams.

“You already are that person, Zayne,” she whispered. “You’ve always been.”

Zayne turned to her then, his eyes locking with hers. For a moment, everything felt still. The world, their studies, their busy lives—it all seemed to fade away as they shared this quiet moment together. He reached out, gently taking her hand in his, and for the first time, she didn’t pull away.

“I’m glad you’re my friend,” he said, his voice sincere and warm.

Her heart stuttered in her chest, and she nodded, squeezing his hand. But what she didn’t say was that, even though she had always kept her feelings hidden, she had never truly been just a friend in her heart. Maybe now, just maybe, the years of silence would speak volumes.

And as they sat there, hand in hand, the future didn’t seem as uncertain as it once had. Because for once, she allowed herself to imagine a future with Zayne—not just as friends, but as something more. Something real.

As the stars began to shine brightly above them, she knew this was just the beginning of a love that had always been written in the stars.

a/n: yes ill be basing this from my experience coz....ik we all been there :333 im using zayne as the character coz hes similar to him :3

[terr4hockey]

the 1 - Tobio Kageyama

A/N: In honour of his birthday passing I decided to do a Tobio piece..

And of course ‘the 1’ inspired me, I truly think this is one of Taylor’s most interesting songs..

I’m still a bit new to writing on Tumblr, so i don’t think i’ve gotten my unique profile style yet but it will be here in due time. (hopefully)

“If You Would’ve Been the One”

You had never been one for regrets, but sometimes, late at night, they crept in anyway. Like ghosts, they lurked in the corners of your mind, quiet whispers of what might have been. You’d convinced yourself that you were fine—that you’d moved on, grown stronger, found peace—but there were moments, like tonight, when it felt like everything came crashing down again.

You’d gotten the notification this afternoon: Kageyama’s back in town. The same message that always sends a ripple of something through you, something you don’t quite want to name. It’s the same every time. Your heart gives a small, uninvited lurch at the thought of him.

And so, like a reflex, you check.

You check his socials, the news, anything to catch a glimpse of him. You used to tell yourself it was curiosity—nothing more, nothing less. But now, you know it’s something else. The ache you can’t shake, no matter how hard you try to convince yourself that the past is over. That it doesn’t matter anymore.

You swipe through photos of him with teammates, his face hard and focused as always, but this time, there’s something different. There’s a lightness in his expression. There’s a warmth in his eyes. You remember a time when those eyes were full of uncertainty, full of something you were sure could have meant more. But now, the image of him with his teammates only makes you realize what you’ve lost. The distance between the two of you was so wide now, so insurmountable, that the thought of crossing it feels like a fantasy.

“I have this dream you’re doing cool shit. Having adventures on your own.”

You try to laugh it off, but the reality stings. There were days when you thought that maybe, just maybe, he was the one. The one who would understand you completely, who would make all the noise in your head go quiet. But time has a way of twisting things, of turning the things you thought you knew into something completely unrecognizable.

“You meet some woman on the internet and take her home.”

It hits you suddenly. The thought of him with someone else. A woman who wasn’t you, who was sharing his time, his laughter, his days. It shouldn’t bother you. It shouldn’t sting like this, not when you haven’t seen him in months, not when you’ve convinced yourself that you were better off.

But it does. It always does.

You try to distract yourself. There are things to do, places to go. But it’s always the same. Every time you try to move forward, you find yourself circling back. To him. To what could have been.

“I guess you never know, never know.”

Sometimes, you wonder what it would have been like if you had told him how you felt. If you had fought for him, really fought, instead of letting him slip away quietly like you did. If you had asked him to stay, to wait. If you had told him that maybe—just maybe—there was something there that could have lasted.

But you never did. And now, it’s too late.

It’s a Sunday afternoon when you see him again. Not in person, but you know he’s there. The familiar name on your screen makes you hesitate before you tap on the message thread. It’s a post from an old friend, showing a picture of the volleyball team together, Kageyama standing at the back with his arms crossed, the slightest smirk on his lips. You’d seen this photo before, but this time, it stirs something else in you. It’s not just nostalgia. It’s longing.

“Roaring twenties, tossing pennies in the pool.”

You remember the nights you spent with him, laughing, teasing, making plans that never came to fruition. The feeling of something—something on the edge of becoming real, something on the edge of falling apart. You had thrown your hopes into the air like pennies, not knowing which way they would land.

But you had hoped.

And now, you just wonder. If things had been different, would you have been the one standing beside him in that picture? Would you have been the one he came back for? Or was that just another dream, another wish that could never be fulfilled?

You close the app, your fingers lingering on the screen for a moment longer than necessary. Your heart hurts in a way you can’t explain, and the ache feels familiar, like an old friend that never quite leaves.

“If my wishes came true, it would’ve been you.”

But you can’t wish for something that never was.

—————————————————————————————

Weeks pass. You’re not sure when it happened, but somehow, you find yourself thinking less about him. Life keeps moving. You’ve buried the ghost of Kageyama deep, tucked away where it can’t hurt you anymore. You start saying yes to new things—new friends, new experiences—and for the first time in a while, you feel the weight of the past starting to fade.

At least, you tell yourself it’s fading.

You’re at the park one afternoon, a warm breeze stirring the autumn leaves, when you hear a familiar voice call your name. You freeze, the world around you pausing for just a moment as your heart skips a beat. There’s no mistaking it.

It’s his voice.

You turn, slowly, and your breath catches in your throat. There, standing at the edge of the walking path, is Kageyama. He looks different now, more worn in a way that only time and travel can shape a person, but his presence is still unmistakable. His eyes lock onto yours and you feel like the world is spinning around you.

For a second, neither of you says anything. There’s only the sound of leaves rustling in the wind.

He clears his throat, taking a step closer. “Y/N… I didn’t expect to see you here.”

Your pulse quickens. How did this happen?

“I didn’t expect to see you either,” you reply, voice quieter than you’d intended.

There’s a strange pause, an invisible wall between you. You want to say something—anything. To tell him how much you’ve missed him, how much it still hurts, but the words seem to catch in your throat.

“I’ve been back for a while,” he says, as if the silence between you needs to be filled. “I wanted to reach out sooner, but I wasn’t sure… well, I wasn’t sure you’d want to hear from me.”

You meet his gaze, and for the first time, you see the vulnerability there—the part of him that you never really allowed yourself to see.

And suddenly, the weight of the years, the distance, the silence, doesn’t feel so heavy anymore.

But you don’t say anything. Not yet. The urge to throw yourself into his arms, to let all those years of longing spill out, is strong. But you resist. This isn’t the moment to let emotions rule. Not yet.

It would have been fun, you think. If you would’ve been the one.

But there’s something you need to do first. You need to take control of this story, to rewrite the parts that still hurt. Because you’re not ready to just let him slip away again, not this time.

“I think…” you begin, your voice steady, even as your heart races. “I think I owe you a drink.”

He blinks, a flash of surprise passing across his features, but then the corner of his mouth twitches into that small, familiar smirk.

“Just one?” he teases, but there’s a softness in his tone that you haven’t heard in a long time.

You raise an eyebrow, keeping your gaze steady. “Maybe more. Depends on how this goes.”

He nods, his expression more open than you expected. “Alright. I’ll take you up on that.”

As you both begin to walk side by side, the familiar weight of his presence beside you feels different this time—less heavy, more full of possibility. You can’t predict what’s going to happen next, but as you exchange a small, tentative smile, you know one thing for sure.

You’re not going to let him slip away again. Not if you can help it.

“And it would’ve been sweet, if it could’ve been me.”

But this time, you’re determined to make it happen.

[prosperdemeter2]

Snip-it Sunday - glass

@mattsire @wildlife4life - sorry I missed your Friday tag!! Take two teasers as compensation

Eddie settled Christopher in his carseat, buckled him in and ruffled his hair, tilting his head on the cushion in a way that he hoped would keep his neck from hurting when he inevitably fell asleep for the ride home. He straightened up and turned to thank him, but Evan was already waving him off with his hands in his pockets. “It was nice, right?” Evan asked hopefully. Uncertainty pitching into his voice.  Eddie let himself soften, “We had a great time.” He promised and found that he had. All throughout lunch and the resulting ice cream afterwards, Eddie hadn’t once worried about money or Shannon or… or anything really except what question to ask next. Conversation was easy. “You are… stupidly good at conversation.” Evan’s cheeks pinked and he aimed his smile at the parking garage graffiti painted wall. “It comes with the job.” He shrugged off softly. “Not that… not that you’re hard to talk to.”  Eddie bit the inside of his lip, “But, really, thank you. Not a lot of people would want to spend lunch with a kid and…” He shrugged.  Evan glanced towards the still open car door, Christopher breathing softly as he napped off his lunch and dessert. “He’s a good kid.” Evan said with a swallow. “You’re… you’re a great dad.”  “You barely even know me.”  “I know enough.” Evan laughed, but the compliment felt genuine. Honest. Real.  Eddie needed to get Christopher home. He needed to put him to bed and… and get to bed himself. “Listen…” Eddie trailed off and ran a hand over his hair. He didn’t know what he was trying to say, what he was going to do, and he half expected Evan to not even bother to wait. But he stood there even when the silence between them threatened to grow stale and awkward. Waited for Eddie to figure it out, whatever he was going to say. I’ll see you, his mind offered. “Can I… have your number?” He flushed the moment he asked it.  Evan’s mouth twisted inwards, but his eyes sparkled like he couldn’t believe his luck. “You want to do this again?”  “Yeah, well,” Eddie shook his phone out of his pocket, holding it in Evan’s direction and trying to keep his blush at bay. “I don’t lurk at hospitals, so… if I want to return the favor…” God he wasn’t good at this. Shannon had always told him that he was shit at flirting. “I’m going to need some way to get in contact with you.”  Evan took his phone from his hand with a small, breathless laugh. “You know, everyone at your station has my number.”  “That wouldn’t be embarrassing at all.” Eddie shook his head. “I’d rather get it from you.”  Evan couldn’t stop smiling at the phone screen. Like Eddie was somehow saying all of the right things even if it felt like he was tripping over rocks. He typed in his number, and then something else and locked the screen before tapping Eddie’s phone twice against the palm of his hand and offering it back. “I, uhm…. I had a really good time.” He told him sincerely. “Thanks for letting me take you guys out.”  “Thanks for taking us out.”  “Whenever you want.” Evan said with a little laugh. “Seriously. I’m not busy.”  “When you’re not lurking around hospitals.”  “When I’m not lurking around hospitals.”  Eddie smiled and he would have stayed, happy to keep the afternoon going as it bled into night but Evan was glancing at his watch and pulling a face at the time. “I have to go.” He said regretfully. “But, uhm… text me?”  Eddie didn’t even wait until he was out of the parking garage. 

[ineffablebardwrites]

Good Omens Fic Masterlist

Aziraphale/Crowley (Ineffable Husbands)

The Ties That Bind

Not too long after time began, Aziraphale learned how to braid hair.

Not too long after that, Crowley's hair became his favorite thing to braid.

Little Talks

Crowley wakes in the middle of the night to the feeling of being watched.

A brief investigation leads him to the kitchen where God is waiting for him.

Things Unseen

Aziraphale honestly didn't think his time in Hell had affected him that much.

He was wrong.

Flash Flood

Aziraphale Fell on a Sunday afternoon.

The rain started shortly after.

Wait For Me (I Will)

After his Fall from Heaven, Crowley wants nothing more than to return to Aziraphale's side.

Their reunion doesn't go quite the way he'd imagined.

The Principles of Protection

Aziraphale reveals what it really means to be a Principality.

Crowley ends up witnessing it firsthand.

Out of Time

Crowley knew that falling in love with a vampire would have consequences.

He didn't think bleeding out in an alley would be one of them.

A Song of Selkies

All Aziraphale wanted was to go home.

Crowley doesn't understand why he can't.

Things My Heart Used to Know

Aziraphale always felt like Crowley reminded him of someone.

He's just not sure who that someone is.

Journey to the Past

Anthony Crowley is searching for the lost heir to the throne of Eden, Prince Aziraphale.

Enter Ezra, a young man with no memory of who he is or where he comes from, but bears a strong resemblance to the missing prince.

Spring Flowers, Autumn Leaves

Aziraphale, Lord of the Underworld, was used to waiting for Crowley to come home.

However, he wasn't used to Crowley being late.

--

A Hades/Persephone AU

Make A Wish

In the aftermath of Aziraphale's choice, Crowley finds comfort in a star shower and the hope brought on by a human's tall tale.

If You Hadn't Found Me (I Would Have Found You)

Aziraphale Fell, renowned cellist and musical prodigy, yearns for more than the hand he's been dealt.

Anthony Crowley, lead singer for the band The Fallen, is trying to find a new sound.

The two meet under unusual circumstances and somehow manage to find everything they'd been looking for.

Trials of the Serpent King Trilogy

The Fallen Prince

Ezra Fell had read The Trials of the Serpent King numerous times throughout his lifetime. He could quote nearly every line by heart and owned multiple versions of the entire series, including a recently obtained first edition of The Fallen Prince.

Upon opening the cover, Ezra finds himself within the pages of the book and traveling alongside Anthony J. Crowley, the exiled king of Eden, while he marches the path towards the redemption of his throne.

The Road to Eden

In the aftermath of The Fallen Prince, Ezra Fell continues his journey alongside Anthony Crowley as they make their way towards the Kingdom of Eden.

But the journey back is filled with perils and with a traitor lurking in their midst, Ezra's task of keeping Crowley alive has suddenly become a lot more difficult than before.

Salvation of the King

Following the events of The Road to Eden, Anthony Crowley and his company find themselves reeling from an unexpected betrayal, but continue to push toward their goal of reclaiming the throne which is now well within their reach.

However, their journey, while being so close to ending, is still far from over and Ezra Fell will find himself not only fighting for Crowley, but also fighting to remain in the world he now calls home.

Ineffable Wives

To Noise Making (Sing)

There had been a time when Aziraphale had loved singing.

Crowley isn't sure why she ever stopped.

Heart of Ice

The legend of the Snow Queen told a sorrowful tale of a woman whose heart turned to ice upon the loss of her beloved.

The Snow Queen herself has little memory of this person.

Antonia Crowley is intent on helping her remember.

Rhythm of the Night

Aziraphale and Crowley explore the evolution of fashion at the Moulin Rouge.

or

Aziraphale dresses up and Crowley loses her mind.

Ineffable Spouses

Through the Centuries

In order to assist Aziraphale with an assignment, Crowley suggests they pretend to be married.

When the end draws closer, Aziraphale is surprised to find she doesn't want it to end.

Love Is A Song (That Never Ends)

Upon their Creation, every angel was given half of a song.

The other half was given to their soulmate.

--

In which Aziraphale and Crowley are soulmates connected by a single song and how they slowly come back together following the Fall.

A Quiet Place

Once upon a time, a silent angel and an outspoken demon met on a wall.

Over time, they manage to find some common ground.

Ineffable Bureaucracy (Gabriel/Beelzebub)

It's Quiet Uptown

Gabriel hadn't always been this way.

In fact, he used to be very different.

Then again, after the Fall, no one was really the same.

---

Prequel to Things My Heart Used to Know

[thefrogdalorian]

All settled and comfy to spend this fine Sunday afternoon catching up and reply to all the kind things you lovely lot have said to me over this past week!!

I have been lurking every so often, but I've been uncharacteristically busy which made too tired whenever I got some time to myself to properly engage on the hellsite. This week has been such an emotional rollercoaster, I was so stressed before my driving test and then my emotions did a complete 180 when I passed!

But I really appreciate the sweet messages and I would never want anyone to ever feel ignored! If you spend a little time interacting with me I treasure that human connection and effort you made and I want to give that back to you. So I cannot wait to catch up with everything I've missed aaaaaaah.

I am looking forward to normal service being resumed this week... aka rotting in my room and yelling into the online void about a tin can man!

[theamityelf]

I could see Kyokura and Kamukuya sharing exactly one spot where they lurk, and they just exist in each other's company on the rare chance they spend time together.

Nagitozuru is like "Kyoko isn't big on anyone" and she pops out of nowhere going "incorrect, I enjoy Iteration 2 and Byakuya. And Mahiru."

(Absolutely! Though, I do have to say, just for everyone's clarity, that Makoto is Iteration 3 now. Sorry, I hate to be pedantic; I just want to make sure I'm consistent with the numbers, lol.)

"Everyone likes 3," Nagito says dismissively, beckoning Makoto over and wrapping his arms around him.

"Although this is the first time I've heard you say you enjoy anything," Izuru says. He's brewing some tea, and he hasn't been all that engaged in the conversation up til now, but he always likes to keep track of his successors' progress toward individuality. "When did that start?"

"Consciously, it was 6:02 pm, last Tuesday," Kyoko replies. "Subconsciously, I think sometime during the afternoon of the preceding Sunday."

"She's advanced," Nagito observes. "I'm the only one who started enjoying things earlier, and I'm an anomaly."

"So am I," Kyoko points out. "I was removed from the labs earlier than any of you, and my environment is more enriching." She steals a cup of Izuru's tea and extracts Makoto from Nagito's arms, vanishing from the room with him.

"Well, she's certainly made herself at home," Nagito says, leaning on Izuru while he's sipping what's left of his tea.

[spidergrotto]

listen to me hear me OUT

before getting bit, peter would take combat lessons every sunday afternoon. he’d watch the trainer intently with complete focus and absorb every single movement— from outside the room itself, listening in through an open window.

ben and may couldn’t afford something like this, and peter wasn’t going to ask for it knowing how much stress they’d go through to take those classes— he had no doubt that the two would find a way to get him into the program, but the thought of adding onto the thousands of burdens he’s already caused made him sick.

so, he silently lurked at the back of the building— listening to the training instructor correct a students form or teach a new lesson— and he’d learn, he’d apply the corrections and loosely follow the man’s instructions .

it was a miracle he didn’t get caught, he’s not the most discreet but he really did try his best not to be noticed— kept his steps quiet and head down, avoiding the window as best he could while still being able to follow his— the trainers movements.

but god, he should’ve known that his presence wasn’t a secret. it’d been a good few months into his ‘training’ when peter parker made DIRECT eye contact with the trainer not once, but twice.

his heart might’ve just stopped beating when their eyes met, he could feel his brain go into overdrive— is that even possible? to physically feel your brain working? it must be, it was happening — peter parker was caught, the trainer was going to be thrown into jail, can be be arrested for this? would they tell aunt may or uncle ben? he might be able to fight, but peter wouldn’t last a week in jail, he can’t —

the trainer offers a slight smile, a nod, and goes on with the lesson— and everything clicks. this wasn’t some sort of secret he’d been keeping, the instructor had known about him for awhile; it wouldn’t be surprising if they’d known from the start, peter was notorious for being bad at keeping secrets, it’s his fault he thought it would be different this time.

and well, a silent agreement was made— or had always been made? peter wasn’t sure. he’d come to ‘class’ every sunday and listen in on the lesson through the window, the trainers started offering him corrections under the guise of yelling at another student “next to the window! fix your posture. ” and both peter and some poor kid would do just that. he felt a little bad, but not bad enough to leave.

he cried when he was not so subtly given a certification at the end of the year— a gold medal loosely strung around it, the words “window kid.” scribbled in pink writing with an official signature congratulating him on his graduation.

and when spider-man started showing up to the weekly lessons— peeking in through the window and offering the new students pointers— well, nobody questioned it.

[worldenough-and-time]

Sunday Snippet

Thanks @lynxindisguise for the tag! Still slow going on True Blue and nothing new for the vamp fic yet, so here’s another scene from the year four outline. It’s one of the first things I wrote for Thre Blue way back at the beginning of the year! I’m not entirely sure when/if it will make it into the story now that the outline has fleshed out a bit, but I still think it’s really cute!

———

There were moments when Sirius saw the wolf in her.

The wolf lived in Remy’s cunning smile when she’d devised some grand plan for a prank, and was eager to share it.

The wolf danced in the determined ecstasy of Remy’s eyes as they fled through the halls from the consequences of their actions.

There was a flash of animal longing in the tap of her foot, the set of her brow, during a particularly dull lecture.

Sirius saw the wolf in Remy’s stance when Snape and his ilk approached. Just one step ahead, one length in front of her friends at her back.

The wolf slept in the stillness of Remy’s afternoon nap, passed out in Sirius’s bed after hours of listening to records or reading together. Sirius had spent a great deal of time staring at that stillness, holding her breath for fear of waking her.

And her rage. The wolf roiled in the rage that Sirius knew was lurking just beneath Remy’s composure. Sirius felt the keen urge to tempt her ire just for a glimpse of it, like she did when they play-fought in the shack, her dog nipping at the wolf's neck, determined to get her full attention.

She supposed she’d always done that. Found inelegant, desperate ways to get under Remy’s skin. Even before she knew what creature she’d find beneath.

She was up to this trick one sunny afternoon when they sat together in the astronomy tower, studying. Well, Remy was studying. Sirius was folding half a ream of parchment into tiny, three dimensional stars, and enchanting them to swirl like the heavens above her head.

“Think fast!” Sirius said, as she sent one star zipping toward Remy’s forehead. It hit its mark with a satisfying tck.

Remy gave her a withering look. She picked up the now dented bit of parchment and rolled it between her fingers with a frown. “What’s this, then?”

“Shooting star.”

Remy smirked and narrowed her eyes in Sirius's direction. “You think you're being funny?”

And then suddenly, that strange doubling. Girl and creature, layered over one another. I know you. Both of you. All of you, now.

Sirius couldn’t see it as a curse. At that moment, it was just magic.

Magic, the way the sun played on the curve of Remy’s cheek, on the veins of her forearms, on her long, scarred fingers. The look on her face, studying the star she rolled slowly between her fingers. The knot of her brow and the wolf in her eyes, discerning, annoyed, amused. Magic.

Sirius wasn’t finished yet. She whispered a spell under her breath and conjured a small light at the center of the star. Remy’s eyes widened and a rouge, delighted gasp escaped from her lips as the star leapt from her palm and danced around her head.

I’ll do anything, Sirius thought. Anything to keep stars in your eyes when you look at me.

And she admitted something to herself, then. Something that had been building for a while, brighter and faster until it shot through her with diamond clarity.

Sirius had never been any good at wanting the things she was supposed to. She would always want the bright faraway thing, dangerously alive and impossible to hold in her hands.

Remy’s wonder melted into a smirk, and she casually flicked the glowing star back towards Sirius face. Sirius made no effort to stop it, instead taking the gentle hit and collapsing dramatically onto her back, closing her eyes and breathing in Remy’s laughter.

She was soaring with elation, and stupid from terror, and in love, in love, in love.

———

No pressure tags for @maliceofminds @spindrifters @sommerregenjuniluft @capacity-for-wonder

[tfbsattic]

Huey, Dewey, Louie, and a Magyar PM’s Demise

While touring Budapest during the Balkan Explorer Tour via Expat Explore in 2023, the free day coincided with Philippine Independence Day – also MY 34th BIRTHDAY. Being a Disney fan myself, the city’s sights brought up DuckTales.

And I do mean the original 1987-1990 run.

Photo taken 6/12/2023.

So what does a Disney animated series have to do with Budapest – or rather, the whole country of Hungary? Ask any resident who was between 3-12 years old and living in said country on December 12, 1993, and they’d likely tell you that something somber interrupted an episode of it.

Picture if you will being a kid watching Disney Sunday, the equivalent of America’s The Disney Afternoon in a post-Cold War Hungary (or a few other European countries) on that day. The theme song plays as normal.

“It will never leave,” said Doug Walker, the Nostalgia Critic. “it will never leave. It's like an addiction. You think you're over it. You think, “I only know a few lyrics of the song…’”

“Life is like a hurricane Here in Duckburg Race cars, lasers, aeroplanes It’s a Duck blur Might solve a mystery Or rewrite history." “DuckTales, woohoo! Every day that I've been making DuckTales, woohoo! Tales so daring, do-bad and good Luck tales.” “D-d-d-danger lurks behind you There’s a stranger out behind you Gonna find you What to do?” “JUST GRAB ONTO SOME DUCKTALES!” “WOOHOO!“

“I mean once you hear it once, it will never, ever go away. And you wanna know what the creepy thing is? I think this show stayed on the air strictly because of the theme song! I mean think about it, what do you actually remember about this show?”

Many a Magyar ‘90s kid’s disturbingly thorough answer came to a head during Uncle Scrooge’s breakfast conniption in the Catch as Cash Can story arc episode, “A Whale of a Bad Time.” He was dismayed and enraged when he lost half of his fortune via the boat containing it being eaten by a sea monster. As Huey, Dewey, and Louie restrained him, every TV screen in every Magyar household open to DuckTales desaturated, changed to static briefly, and went black for 15 minutes.

The Magyar Televízió logo appeared in a gloomy grayscale, accompanied by a track of the 3rd movement of Fredric Chopin’s Piano Sonata No. 2 in B♭ minor, Op. 35. It signified to Magyars of all ages – even and especially the perplexed ‘90s kids trying to make sense of whatever abruptly interrupted their DuckTales fix – that someone very important had died.

That someone very important was József Antall, the first democratically elected prime minister.

Shortly after his inauguration in May 1990, Antall was diagnosed with non-Hodgkins lymphoma. He underwent surgery that October, with him having an interview on the response to the taxi blockade in ihis sleepwear. His cancer recurred in May 1991.

Antall died in his sleep due to complications on December 12, 1993. Magyar adults and well-informed teens who knew and loved him were bereft of a strong leader in Hungary’s post-communist history, whereas befuddled kids wondered why the TV cared more of about a prime minister’s death over a Disney animated series.

Those children who grew up back then were dubbed the “DuckTales Generation.”

“I wanted to switch channels to see if there was another cartoon,” recalled one Magyar adult, “but my parents wanted to watch M1 because – unlike me – they knew who PM Antall was and why the news of his death was important.”

“As a result of the shock, I rushed to the bathroom,” recalled another, “but I could barely tell what had happened all the way through. My mom cried to my dad, ‘Antall is dead!’ And then they looked at me, over my head. The children watching DuckTales at the time experienced a minor trauma as they were torn out of the safe world of Disney magic – and the unknown, incomprehensible blackness came.”

“Chopin's funeral march and the deep blackness cast a pall over the country for just a couple of minutes.”

“I called my parents, ‘Dad, I think (Antall) had died,’” recalled the owner of conservative blog Meanwhile in Budapest.

The death announcement of Antall wasn’t the only kids’ show interruption in history. On June 2, 2020, Viacom-owned TV channels (including Nickelodeon) around the world interrupted TV shows with an 8:46 PSA.

The white text, “I Can’t Breathe,” faded in and out to the cadence of a sound effect of a human breathing. The duration matched the one in which Derek Chauvin held his knee down on George Floyd’s neck till he suffocated. Either a Color of Change text number or the Amnesty International website (depending on country) appeared alongside it.

The PSA scared some kids, which lead some of their parents to rant about it on the Viacom channels’ social media accounts, some with some political rebukes.

But whichever their political views, most Magyar children who grew up when a death of a beloved dignitary interrupted a Disney TV show in the ‘90s knew that their moment was a blindingly brighter lightbulb memory. Even a traveling exhibit by Magyar artists on the childhood children in Hungary spent between the late ‘80s and noughties was APTLY named after that episode of which doleful breaking news interrupted it.

As Walt Disney said, “Life is composed of lights and shadows, and we would be untruthful, insincere, and saccharine if we tried to pretend there were no shadows. Most things are good, and they are the strongest things; but there are evil things too, and you are not doing a child a favor by trying to shield him from reality.”

Simply put, life HAS BEEN like a hurricane, anywhere in the world, whether kids and parents like it or not.

Especially in early ‘90s Hungary.

Photo taken 6/12/2023.

[dreaminginthedeepsouth]

The coming week.

October 23, 2023

ROBERT B. HUBBELL

          As America faces multiple crises that demand urgent action, House Republicans are going through the motions of electing a Speaker of the House. Whatever they do, it won’t matter. Until Republicans elect a Speaker who enjoys bipartisan support, any Speaker elected solely by Republicans will be doomed to fail. It is not enough to be elected Speaker. The new Speaker must immediately shepherd eleven spending bills through the House before the November 17 shutdown date—or gain support for a “continuing resolution” to keep the federal government open on a temporary basis.

          Even more daunting, the eleven bills (or continuing resolution) must also pass in the Senate. It does no good for House Republicans to pass bills that are publicity stunts; such bills will not keep the government open.

          So, here’s the point that will be lost in the media’s “Where’s Waldo?” coverage of the Speaker’s race: The question is not “Who can win 217 votes on the House floor?” but “When will Republicans nominate someone capable of passing legislation that will be approved by the Senate and signed by President Biden?” The answer to the latter question is, “Only when Republicans nominate a candidate who will be elected with bipartisan support.”

          Sadly, Republicans have yet to humiliate and debase themselves so completely that they will—gasp!—vote for someone who will accept Democratic support to govern the House.

          With that bracing reminder as background, let’s briefly look at the meaningless chaos that Americans must endure in the coming week.

          As of the Sunday Noon deadline, nine Republicans had indicated their intent to seek nomination for Speaker by the GOP caucus. See Washington Post, Here are the nine Republicans running for House speaker. (This article is accessible to all.) Seven of the nine candidates voted to overturn the 2020 election results. The leading candidate—Tom Emmer—is opposed by Trump precisely because Emmer voted to certify the count of the electoral ballots. See Mother Jones, Tom Emmer Didn’t Help Trump Steal the 2020 Election. It’s Payback Time.

          And the idea of drafting acting Speaker Pro Tem Patrick McHenry into involuntary service as a Rent-a-Speaker still lurks in the background. See Mike Kelly's plan to elevate Patrick McHenry could be next in House Republicans' speaker drama | Pittsburgh Post-Gazette.

        Per Punchbowl News (behind a paywall), the schedule for next week calls for a “candidate forum” on Monday, a “closed” vote of the GOP caucus on Tuesday, and a floor vote of all House members on Tuesday afternoon—the 21st day without a Speaker!

          The lengthy debacle has crystalized two ugly truths about the hollowed-out shell of the GOP.

          First, the inability of Republicans to elect a Speaker is a direct consequence of their election denialism—the “It only counts if I win” mentality. One purpose of a caucus is to allow members to meet behind closed doors, select a candidate, and then emerge as a unified voting bloc. That quaint notion was destroyed when 140 election deniers in the Republican majority were called upon to elect a Speaker. The notable absence of unity in the GOP caucus led to fifteen rounds of voting for Kevin McCarthy. Over the last three weeks, internal GOP caucus votes nominating a candidate for Speaker have been routinely ignored by various factions within the caucus. Rather than supporting the winners of their internal caucus votes, House Republicans have simply refused to recognize the results of their own elections—a trick that Trump taught them in 2020.

          Second, House Republicans have used threats of violence as an election tactic in the Speaker’s race. Opponents of Jim Jordan were swamped with threats of violence by Jordan supporters. See CNN, Opinion: What violent threats against the Jim Jordan holdouts tell us about the GOP. Republicans normalized threats of violence against their Democratic opponents in 2016 and thereafter. Some dismissed the violent insurrectionists who attacked US Capitol as “peaceful tourists.” They have now turned their learned behavior of threats of violence against one another. It is a tactic that will be difficult to unlearn.

          Despite the likelihood of greater chaos and a lengthy shutdown before this crisis passes, there is reason for hope. Republicans have boxed themselves into a corner with only one way out—a bipartisan coalition between Republicans and Democrats. Republicans will exhaust every other option (including the Rent-a-Speaker option) before reluctantly surrendering to the idea of cooperating with Democrats to keep the government operating. It will happen. It must.

          And then . . . all hell will break loose in the 2024 GOP primaries for the House. As in 2020 and 2022, extremist candidates will challenge Republicans who work with Democrats to keep the government open. That internal fighting will create greater opportunity for Democrats to reclaim the House—and to restore a true governing majority to the people’s House.

President Biden hosts a call with foreign leaders regarding Israel's war on Hamas.

          On Sunday, President Biden held a joint call with leaders from Canada, the UK, France, Germany, and Italy to discuss Israel’s war on Hamas. The leaders issued a joint statement that said, in part,

The leaders reiterated their support for Israel and its right to defend itself against terrorism and called for adherence to international humanitarian law, including the protection of civilians. The leaders . . . committed to continue coordinating with partners in the region to ensure sustained and safe access to food, water, medical care, and other assistance required to meet humanitarian needs. The leaders committed to continue close diplomatic coordination, including with key partners in the region, to prevent the conflict from spreading, preserve stability in the Middle East, and work toward a political solution and durable peace.

          The situation in Israel and Gaza is deteriorating with each passing hour. To the extent we have any insight into what President Biden is doing, he is working behind the scenes with allies (including Israel) to contain the conflict and protect civilians.

A few notes about Trump.

          First, the guilty plea of Sidney Powell in the Georgia RICO case has touched a nerve with Trump. Having described Powell as his attorney while Trump was in office, he now claims that she was “never” his attorney. See CNN, After Sidney Powell pleads guilty in Georgia case, Trump claims she was ‘never’ his attorney, despite their past ties.

In his rant, Trump claimed that Powell would have been “conflicted” if she had simultaneously represented Trump and Michael Flynn in his request for a pardon. That brief reference to a “conflict” has caused some commentators to claim that Trump may have granted a “quid pro quo” pardon to Flynn (which would be voidable).

          The complicated argument alleging a “quid pro quo” between Sidney Powell and Trump regarding the Flynn pardon is here: See Empty Wheel, Donald Trump Raises Conflict Concerns about His Mike Flynn Pardon. The argument is based on inferences and a bit difficult to follow, but the DOJ has recently argued that granting a pardon on a “quid pro quo” basis would vitiate presidential immunity. Curiouser and curiouser!

          Second, the lawsuit brought in Colorado state court seeking to remove Trump from the ballot will proceed to trial, possibly in late October. See Business Insider, Colorado Case Could Keep Donald Trump Off 2024 Presidential Ballot. Citizens for Responsibility and Ethics in Washington (CREW) brought suit claiming that Trump is disqualified under Section 3 of the 14th Amendment from holding federal office for engaging in insurrection on January 6 (after having taken an oath to uphold the Constitution).

          The Colorado case will be the first serious effort to litigate the Section 3 claim against Trump. As previously explained by Professor Laurence Tribe,

Colorado “is a special place” because “unlike many other states, Colorado has a specific statute which allows registered voters to take the secretary of state to court and demand that the secretary of state exclude anyone who doesn’t meet all of the qualifications, even at the primary stage.”

          The issue will likely be decided by the US Supreme Court, but the fact that Colorado is proceeding apace is good news for the final resolution of the Section 3 claim on the merits. Stay tuned!

Concluding Thoughts.

          I have spoken to and heard from dozens of readers over the weekend. Many are overwhelmed by the news out of the Middle East and are reluctant to engage with the news. That is understandable. If you need emotional distance, take it. But somehow, we must find the will to continue the work of defending democracy at home. As an observation—and not a criticism (at this time)—it is no coincidence that the enemies of Israel and Ukraine chose to attack at moments when they believed that the governments of Israel, Ukraine, and the US were weakened by internal strife and political instability.

          For the good of both domestic and international stability, a healthy US democracy matters. We may feel powerless to affect the broad sweep of events on the global stage. But we can affect those events—by convincing voters to show up at the polls in 2023 and 2024. Action is the antidote to anxiety. In this instance, that action may also be the antidote to global strife.

          Take a breath and then—if you can—focus on changing the outcome in local, state, and federal elections. We can do that. We have done it before. We can do it again.

[Robert B. Hubbell Newsletter]

[happiestplacehq]

Good Afternoon Tags !!

I’ve almost caught up on my replies finally, which means my next goal once I know where I’ll be staying/ moving to this week will be getting back onto bio writing. I have a ton in the drafts with notes, they just need to be fleshed out before I can post them! (Sneaky Clue; Emotions & Muses).

If you’re lurking or thinking about sending us an app, check out the source for our Most Wanted list, as requested by our players! This week is a great week to send us in an app because our next event just dropped and is starting on Friday! (How exciting would it be introducing a brand new character at a Masquerade ball?) Anyway, there’s an acceptance day tomorrow and then one on Sunday, so plenty of time to send in an application before the weekend is out!

[authorwithmask]

Olivia was the free spirit of her village, a girl known for her carefree ways. She danced through life like the wind, unbothered by whispers or expectations. People called her careless, a whimsical presence drifting through their world. But she never minded; she loved the way she was—until the shadow appeared.

It started one evening on her way home. A strange feeling prickled at her neck, like someone watching, lurking just behind. Yet, when she turned, there was nothing. Just the empty road, the rustling trees, and her own silhouette stretching before her. Days passed, and the sensation grew stronger. The presence, unseen yet felt, followed her through the streets and over the hills. She should have been afraid. Instead, she was intrigued.

One afternoon, a commotion drew her to the village square. A boy stood in the midst of a gathered crowd, speaking of her—Olivia. She had never seen him before, just a shadow outside the church.

He recited words like poetry, yet they carried the weight of scandal. He painted a picture of her in verses that made people laugh, mock, and whisper. Her heart pounded. Who was he? How did he know her so well?

Caroline. That was the name he gave her. The careless Caroline.

Humiliated, Olivia fled, but the shadow pursued. Always there, always just behind. Yet something changed. The shadow wasn’t just watching anymore—it was protecting. The shadow had taken the thorn for her.

One night, under the dim glow of lanterns, she whispered into the emptiness, "Who are you?"

A voice, barely there, replied, "I am Gullian."

She turned to face him, but he was already fading into the night. And so it went—whenever she tried to speak to him, he would disappear. Yet, he was always there, always near, watching, following, shielding her from unseen dangers.

But she did not understand—why was that shadow lurking behind her?

### The Golden Boy

Sunday was the day when everyone gathered for the community meeting.

At the church, she had asked, "Who is the golden boy, and why are you all swooning over him?"

Her friend chuckled, "That’s Gullian."

Olivia froze. "Gullian?" She turned to see him standing there, his golden hair catching the light filtering through the stained glass. He frowned at her confusion. "What? Do I know this weird girl?"

His friends snickered, adding to the mockery. "Careless Caroline thinks the golden boy follows her? What a fantasy."

It struck her like a slap. He had been the one mocking her. The boy she had trusted, the shadow that had protected her—how could they be the same? Olivia ran home, her chest tight, unable to make sense of it all.

She cried the whole day. She felt something creeping outside her window, but she chose to ignore it. He can't be my Gullian. No, she was confused.

Gullian, on the other hand, stared at the village lights from the hill, his fingers clenched into fists. He had followed her for so long, drawn to something he did not understand. She was reckless, foolish, wild—everything he had been taught to avoid. Yet, she made the world seem alive in a way he had never known.

Olivia met the shadow again the next day. "You aren’t that golden boy Gullian, are you? You’re a different boy? A different Gullian?"

The shadow wiped her tears and embraced her.

Time passed, and fear turned to trust. Trust became something more. Olivia no longer ran from the shadow; she longed for it. It was absurd, falling in love with someone who barely spoke, who existed more in the periphery than in the village itself. But love is never logical.

One evening, when she thought she would break apart from all the unanswered questions, the shadow embraced her. Gullian said nothing—no confessions, no promises—but in that silent embrace, she felt warmth, understanding, something deeper than words.

"Maybe I am stupid, Gullian," she murmured. "But I hope you never fade away."

### Separation

The next day, rumors spread. Gullian, the golden boy, was leaving. The shadow had stopped lurking. Olivia muttered, "Is my shadow love the golden boy Gullian?"

Her friend took her to the port, where she saw him standing with his family. Everyone was hugging him, but his eyes were fixed on Olivia. "Oli, your husband's going. Kiss him," her friend smirked.

She said, "Shut up."

He wanted to say something, anything, but the words never came. He was supposed to let go. He was supposed to walk away. But her presence made his heart clench, his breath hitch. He had spent years pretending his feelings did not exist, and now, faced with her trembling form, he realized the depth of his lie.

She could see the unspoken words in them—I don’t know what I feel, but I don’t want to leave you. They both froze as if this was the end of their love story. His gaze was an apology she never wanted to hear.

Olivia said, "Let’s go." She walked away with a sigh. And she faded.

---

### One Year Later

Olivia had become the brightest student in her class. "Wow, you have the brain of two people!" her classmates would chuckle. She was excelling in her studies, determined to carve a future for herself.

One evening, her friend Gracie dragged her to the village fair. Among the crowd, her heart stopped. "Gullian?" she whispered.

"Your husband," her friend teased.

Gullian blushed. Olivia quickly turned away. "I want an ice cream."

"One chocolate milk ice cream," she ordered.

"One caramel," a familiar voice said beside her.

His voice had deepened. As he brushed past her, Olivia felt something electric run through her. She panicked. "I have to study biology!" she muttered and fled.

That night, she couldn’t focus. Instead, she replayed their interaction over and over again.

The next day, the same thing happened.

"Is your husband in love with you?" her friend teased.

"No! I need to read," Olivia huffed. "Ugh, boring."

Then, she disappeared.

Rumors spread—Gullian had a girlfriend now. Olivia felt something twist inside her, but she swallowed it down. "Back to chemistry," she whispered. "I’ll make something of myself."

---

### Years Later

She got into medical school. "The brightest of the batch," her professors said. But she had grown pale and distant. Her estranged friend tried to bring her out. "You should come with us."

"No need," Olivia muttered, clutching her heavy pathology book. "You don’t need me."

The village was in a festive mood.

And Olivia was burning in fever.

"You’re doing too much." said her mom.

"I need to finish my case report—no, let’s go to Grandma’s."

As she sat in the carriage, someone suddenly collapsed in front of her.

It was…

Gullian.

His golden eyes widened in sheer panic. He gasped for air.

"He’s watching you," mom whispered.

"No…" Olivia said, shaking.

That night, she sat beside the old clock, her only witness. Feverish, she whispered, "I saw him again."

because everyone was bored of the gullian talks. Her family had banned her especially her mom so she used to share it with the clock.

She sobbed. "He doesn’t love me. He doesn’t, okay? But it feels like he does."

"Nooo he he doesn't, I know that."

She wiped her tears. "I won’t meet him again. I promise."

[starseedfxofficial]

The Euro Swiss Franc Sideways Market Trap: Hidden Tactics to Profit When Prices Go Nowhere The Silent Assassin: Why the EUR/CHF Sideways Market Wreaks Havoc on Traders Picture this: You finally spot what looks like the perfect entry on the EUR/CHF pair. You enter with the confidence of a trader who just downed a double espresso. But then... nothing. The price moves slower than a sloth in a yoga class. Your stop loss gets clipped by a few pips, and the market lazily drifts back into its sideways shuffle. Sound familiar? Welcome to the brutal reality of the Euro Swiss Franc sideways market. It’s not just a range—it’s a stealthy account-drainer. Most traders treat this pair like any other, but the EUR/CHF is a unique beast. Its sideways grind is a well-oiled trap that sucks the life out of traders who don't know the hidden rules. But guess what? This is where the real pros shine. They know the secrets. They thrive in the chop. And today, you're getting the keys to their playbook. Why EUR/CHF Moves Like Your Lazy Sunday Afternoon Before we dive into ninja-level tactics, you need to understand why the EUR/CHF pair loves sideways markets: - The Swiss National Bank (SNB) Is Watching: The SNB has a reputation for intervening in the market. Traders remember the infamous 2015 shock when the CHF surged after the SNB removed its peg to the euro. Since then, the SNB lurks in the background, keeping volatility low. - Low Volatility Pair: According to DailyFX data, EUR/CHF is among the least volatile pairs, with an average daily range often under 50 pips. - Safe-Haven Dynamics: When markets panic, CHF strengthens. But when things are calm, EUR/CHF reverts to a sideways crawl. Understanding this context is crucial. Without it, you're swinging blindly at a market that’s designed to frustrate you. Most Traders Get This Wrong: Why Breakout Strategies Fail Miserably Here’s the cold truth: Breakout strategies on EUR/CHF often lead to fakeouts. The price teases a breakout, only to reverse like a driver realizing they missed their exit. According to a study by Forex Factory user PipSurgeon, 72% of apparent breakouts in EUR/CHF from 2018 to 2022 failed within the first 24 hours. The Hidden Formula Only Experts Use: Mean Reversion Mastery Professional traders don't chase breakouts on this pair. They exploit its tendency to revert to the mean. Here’s how: - Identify the Range: Plot support and resistance zones on the 1-hour or 4-hour chart. Look for levels that have held multiple times. - Use Bollinger Bands: Set to 20 periods with 2 standard deviations. When price hits the upper band near resistance, look to sell. When it touches the lower band near support, look to buy. - Confirm with RSI (14): If RSI is over 70 near resistance or under 30 near support, the setup strengthens. - Set Tight Stop Losses: Place stops just outside the range. For EUR/CHF, 10-15 pips is often sufficient. - Take Profits Quickly: Don't aim for home runs. Bank profits when price returns to the mid-range or shows signs of slowing. This approach aligns with insights from Kathy Lien, Managing Director of FX Strategy at BK Asset Management, who emphasizes that pairs like EUR/CHF reward traders who respect range boundaries. The Underground Hedge Fund Trick: Sniping Micro Swings While retail traders argue on forums, hedge funds quietly exploit EUR/CHF micro-swings. Here’s their weapon: - VWAP (Volume-Weighted Average Price): Institutional traders use VWAP as a magnet in ranging markets. When EUR/CHF drifts far from VWAP on the 15-minute chart, smart money often fades the move. - How to Execute: Overlay VWAP on your chart. When price extends 10-15 pips beyond VWAP, consider fading it back toward the mean. According to Brent Donnelly, author of “Alpha Trader,” institutional desks often rely on VWAP to gauge fair value during quiet sessions. Counterintuitive Weapon: Trading the SNB Shadow Most traders fear the Swiss National Bank. Professionals use it as a guide. - Watch for SNB Jawboning: When SNB officials hint at concerns over CHF strength, the pair often stabilizes or rebounds within days. - Economic Calendar is Gold: Bookmark SNB meeting dates and speeches. React swiftly to verbal interventions. As Mohamed El-Erian, Chief Economic Advisor at Allianz, said in a Bloomberg interview: “Policy signals from central banks like the SNB can anchor market expectations more than traders realize.” Avoid This Rookie Mistake: Overleveraging in Low Volatility Low volatility tricks traders into increasing position sizes. But when EUR/CHF does move, it can spike brutally. Case study: In January 2015, retail broker FXCM nearly collapsed after the SNB shock. Traders who overleveraged faced account wipeouts. - Solution: Use the Smart Trading Tool from StarseedFX to calculate optimal lot sizes. (https://www.starseedfx.com/smart-trading-tool/) Hidden Patterns That Drive EUR/CHF: Time-of-Day Advantage EUR/CHF exhibits subtle patterns depending on the time of day: - Asian Session (Low Liquidity): Price tends to drift within tight bands. Mean reversion works best. - London Open (Volatility Bump): Fakeouts are common. Fade the first aggressive move. - US Session Overlap: Ranges expand slightly. Watch for CHF reactions to US news. Data from ForexLive suggests that 68% of EUR/CHF breakouts during the London Open fail within the first hour. Final Ninja Tactics Recap (Copy This to Your Trading Plan): - Mean Reversion Is King: Trade the range with Bollinger Bands and RSI. - VWAP Pullbacks: Fade price extensions from VWAP on the 15-minute chart. - SNB Clues: Monitor SNB comments for hidden market stabilizers. - Time-of-Day Adjustments: Adapt your strategy based on the trading session. - Position Sizing: Avoid overleveraging due to low volatility. Elevate Your Game: Access Insider Analysis Daily Want more pro-level insights? StarseedFX equips you with elite tools and intelligence: - Real-Time Forex News: https://www.starseedfx.com/forex-news-today/ - Free Forex Courses: https://www.starseedfx.com/free-forex-courses - Smart Trading Tools: https://www.starseedfx.com/smart-trading-tool/ - Community Membership: https://www.starseedfx.com/community   —————– Image Credits: Cover image at the top is AI-generated Read the full article

[wcrriorhearts]

Good afternoon! I have realized that daily performances and work are a bit harder to juggle than expected and I have not had any time to actually write, so consider this a brief hiatus until the deniere on Sunday 💜 I am still lurking but I just don’t have enough time to write

[darkmoonkestrel]

daily kestrel 62:

I slept in today, but I've still felt tired all day. Paige went and got donuts this morning, and I went in the office and did my schoolwork. I threw together my portfolio audit, I def could have done more to make more progress before turning it in but honestly it's fine I can do the rest of it before the last audit in a few weeks

the perusal readings for this week (today bc I hadn't touched them at all yet) were all about gender and boi do some of my classmates continue to have rancidly bad takes for people in a graduate level specialists program. I may have gone a little too far and specifically called one of them out by saying that if their religion impacts the way they teach acceptance of LGBT+ people in a public school, maybe they should teach in a Christian school that more aligns with their beliefs, but honestly if they're still saying "I can't endorse sin" shit with their full chest when they're at the Masters level of education they need to get called out

i also finally caught a bhultra stream, he was attempting to beat the elite four in fire red with a single level 100 Squirtle. I said exactly one thing in chat about having double scoliosis when the topic was mentioned and he went "ohhh like a snake" and someone gifted me a sub and honestly, I need to tune in more, even just lurking, bc the vibes were good

I called Memi this afternoon and told her about the house and all of that stuff, I haven't talked to her in a while so it was nice to do that. we watched some more burger show while we all kinda aimlessly rotted on the couch between like 6:30 and 8:30pm, and Peyton finally put Cyberpunk down and started reading a few more chapters of Royal Ranger to us. I played some animal crossing while he read - I really wish the Stardew update was out today instead of tomorrow bc I wanted to do that on the switch, but oh well. idk if we were all just tired from the time change or the dreary November Sunday or the looming enormity of moving, but it was certainly a low energy day in the household, and now it is bedtime at a modest 10pm (although it was 11pm 24 hours ago, which I've been told to stop mentioning)

[wherevermybiketakesme]

The Last 72 Days

The route was plotted. The cats' feeding bowls were filled. I made sure the door was locked. The time showed ten past five on a late Sunday afternoon. V was on her way to her hometown, and I was about to have a long, sleepless night ahead to check off a bucket list item: riding the Gepang Loop.

I headed in the direction of the setting sun, moving with the flow of Bandung Barat traffic as people rushed home to settle in and get ready for Monday. In Ciranjang, not far from the Tauco intersection in Cianjur, a flock of birds swirled low overhead. Then I saw the entire swarm—thousands of birds perched on electrical lines and store signs. I had to stop and marvel at this phenomenon, which I thought only happened in Banjar during the last months of the year. The people of Banjar call them semah matuh (they're migratory swallows), which means frequent guests. They'll be there, gathering on the stretches of electrical lines in the town center of Banjar. I saw them for the first time while I was driving with my father several years ago.

The climb to Puncak was long as usual The weather was nice. The moon had me company; it was no longer full, but its light was bright nonetheless. When I got to the top of the pass, I noticed most stalls have been removed, including Mang Ade. Only its sign remained lying in the empty plot where the warung used to be.

Going down from the pass toward Ciawi was a struggle. The temperature on my Wahoo showed 13 degrees. I wore my windbreaker but I still felt ill-equipped without buff and mitts. It's so cold my teeth kept on chattering and my extremities went numb.

For the most part, the weather was nice. The road was largely empty save for some trucks. I'm happy I get to reconnect with the feel of riding at night. Quiet and peaceful with a hint of lurking terror. It's been a while since I pulled an all-nighter like this. In Cibadak, outside of Cianjur, I pulled over. Across the street was an optical store where I got a replacement for my glasses that's gone missing during the attack.

Reaching Cianjur from Sukabumi meant that the loop was complete. Time to go back to Bandung.

In total, I was on the road for 14 hours, covering a distance of 260km and climbing for as much as 3300 meters. I felt great for the most part of the ride, only to crash hard toward the end due to a combination of endless climbs from Cipatat to Dago, fatigue, exhaustion, and the terrible Monday traffic. I arrived home at half past seven this morning, dirty and totally spent. I took a long hot shower, had light breakfast, and fell asleep for a couple of hours before going out again on the bike to get soto lunch at SSB and coffee at Biji Kopling.

Until tomorrow.

Bandung, October 21, 2024