#copper trend today

[sizzlingstarlightsky]

Drama Queen (Eris Week day 4) [Hounds]

Eris x Reader

Summary: You and Eris walk the hounds through the morning autumn sun

cw: nothing, except my attempt at sweet fluff and Eris being cheeky

This is the first tumblr week I've participated in. Of course it's for Daddy Vanserra, The Lord of Fire himself. Thank you @erisweekofficial ❤️‍🔥 🖤

Warm Autumn morning sunlight freckles your eyelids. Peppering solar kisses though the forest green curtains. Peeking open one eye, you're graced with the tall stoic form of your mate. Your husband, getting ready for his day. Most likey another day or long meetings, getting off on other high lords irritation, and political foreplay. Eris's bread and butter.

Lila, the hound Eris gifted you for your birthday, jumps onto the bed wagging her tail. This was the daily routine. Eris wakes up early, takes the hounds for a walk, does courtly matters, and would join you for the evening walk.

But right now, it was almost as if Helion himself was teasing your mate. Through crusted eyes, you feel nothing short of adoration as the High Lord of Day sprinkles orange rays across Eris's irridencent skin, enhancing his splattered brown flecks. The morning light engulfs him, mixing with his rich copper strands, casting him into an etherial vision of flame. The High Lord of Autumn. The High Lord of Fire. Eris Vanserra. Your mate.

Eris slides on his riding pants, squeezing his muscular legs into the tight fabric. Still shirtless, still glowing. "Come back to bed" your morning words rasping out of your mouth.

"I have to take the dogs out Princess. I'll be back before you know it." Kissing the top of your bedhead, Eris leaves. Maple burbon, nutmeg, and pumpkin linger in the distance he created between you.

You must have dozed off encased in your husbands scent. The smell of warm cinnamon and bacon taking it's place.

Rubbing your eyes, you assess the picture before you. Same orange lighting, Eris is the same riding pants and tunic... very different from his High Lord garb. Still ever as beautiful and full of detail.

"You could make a trash bag the next biggest trend."

Clutching at his chest, feigning pain, "I thought these pants made my legs look good."

Tossing a pillow towards him you laugh, "you're so dramatic"

"Say's the one who just threw a pillow at her loving, handsome, powerful, strong, big, thick-"

"Eris!" smacking his arm but careful not to spill any of the food or juice as he places the tray over your lap. "What time is it?"

Whatever he said was drowned out by the decidant hug of sugary cinnamon pancakes, covered in maple syrup, fresh fruit, and fresh whipped cream. A unabashful moan slipped past your ears, "Chef put a little extra soul into the flavors today. Remind me to thank him."

A sly grin slid onto Eris's lips, accompanied with his signature chuckle, "Chef didn't make it little fox." Sitting down on his side of the bed, he grabs a slice of bacon off the plate. "I did"

"Er!" Looking over to your handsome mate, long, layered, blazing hair cascading over his shoulders and chest like an angel. "See you can be nice" you wink as you take another bite.

Hand to his heart "You wound me my love. I've only ever been kind while I tease you daily."

"And you're usually a good boy, taking what I give you"

"I.. you got me there Princess." Kissing your cheeks, Eris gets off the bed and heads towards your closet. Pulling a pair of riding pants and a tunic he lays them on the edge of the bed. "When you're done eating you should come walk the hounds with me. Autumn is beautiful in the morning light. It would be even more beautiful with my light there beside me"

"Dont you have meetings to attend Mr High Lord?"

"Not today. I know I've been working a lot and I wanted to take time to be with my needy mate-" walking over to the full length mirror, Eris starts admiring himself, making insignificant adjustments to his hair and clothes. As if he could ever look bad. "But I can't blame you. Look at me. Even if I didn't have flames coursing through my veins I'd still be a fire hazard."

"So dramatic"

You've always loved autumn. An array of warm colors fill the trees. The scent of campfires and cinnamon. The sound of crunching leaves. If it wasn't for Eris you may have tried to wed the autumnal season itself.

Being the night owl you were, it wasn't often you got the see the court in the glory of the morning light. But dang it, Eris was right. There was just something extra magical in the way the gold and browns woke up. Almost like a glitter shaking awake all life.

Lila ran ahead to chase a couple of the puppies. You loved days like this. Picking up a good stick you throw it across the field for a few of the older hounds to run after. Dew covered leaves crinkle under their paws. A symphony of joyous barks flood the early autumn air.

"They love you, you know"

"Of course they do. I'm the one who feeds them while you ignore your children for meetings." Teasing him and you throw the stick again. This time gaining the attention of a couple of the smaller puppies.

"They're protective over you. Especially Hunt, and he tolerates me at best." On cue, and like the good hunting hound he is, Hunt srides over in long luxurious prances. Ever as dramatic as his father.

"Maybe that's because you two are too similar." You bend over to give the good boy ear rubs. Relaxing the pack leader into your touch. He licks your hands a few times, which you return with a boop to his nose. He may be a well trained hunting hound, but he will always be a puppy at heart.

"As if you're any different"

The sun in your face, sparkling across your skin, eyes twinkling... How could he not fall in love all over again.

From the moment you two met you had Eris captivated. Someone who can match his heat, spark his flame, humble him. It was you who made him a better male. Who gave him the hope needed to restore the court and be the male his father could never be. The male his father tried brutally for centries to beat out of him. You were his angel, his princess, his saving grace- and he would burn the world for you. Strutting though his inferno runway.

Walking over to where you'd found leasure under a shaded maple tree, "You're so beautiful my love"

"You're love keeps me young." With a smirk, you pull him down to the ground. Tackling him into a pile of crimson and deep yellow leaves.

"You're getting leaves in my hair!" The High Lord of Autumn complaining about his nature coating him- ironic.

"Drama Queen."

"I'm a KING!" Puffing his chest out like a child.

"How long have you been practicing that line drama KING?"

"I will not allow myself to be subjected to such ill treatment of your Lord."

"Yet if you insist on being the King of Drama, that would make me YOUR Queen, sir."

"Touche, my love. I'll give you this round."

"What's my prize for outsassing the Sass Lord?"

"You want a prize? I thought I was prize enough-" Pulling you into his chest, Eris lips find your ear. Leaving little love bites down the length  of your neck, "I can think of a few rewards."

"Mmm...I love you drama queen." Turning your head to crash your lips to his. Tasting his cinnamon breath against your tongue.

"You're a pain in my ass too little fox."

"Oh I can show you a pain in your ass...... where did I put that strap?"

[upon-a-starry-night]

Number Neighbors Pt. 10

Natasha Romanoff x Fem! Reader

Natasha Masterlist Series Masterlist

Word Count: 1.6k

Summary:  When you catch sight of the newest trend going around you know you’re all but bound to at least try it, it was harmless anyway. What could possibly stem from something so little?

---

You layed in bed as the sun shone through your curtains, it was well past the time you would usually wake up but who could blame you, weekends were your happy place. Although as of late you’d been getting your source of serotonin from somewhere else. You rolled over and picked up your phone, checking the time. Noon. nice.

You tried not to be disappointed at the lack of notifications on your screen, it’s not like you got messages from anything but take-out places and… 

You sighed, Nat hadn’t responded for an entire week now.

You knew she told you about how her job would cause her to go remote but it didn’t make it any easier, and after last weekend… god you needed to get a life. You really couldn’t let your whole life revolve around one woman you met on the internet. So what if she makes you laugh harder than you ever have in your life, and listens better than the copper statues in the park downtown? 

You wondered if she even considered you a friend in the same way you did her. 

The fact that she hadn’t blocked you yet meant she was at least entertained by your personality but did she feel the same connection you did? The same loneliness when you didn’t text her back for a while (not that it was ever that long). Did you help her unwind after a long day at work as well?

You sighed, pulling the covers over your face and groaning. Maybe you were becoming too dependent on someone who only saw you as entertainment. The one time you decide to try something new ends up with you having a quarter-life crisis, it’s just your luck.

You layed in bed staring at the ceiling until a sudden wave of irritation washed over you, you were not going to waste the rest of the day wallowing in self-pity like this. 

You threw the covers off of your body, a newborn determination in your bones.

Today you were going to try something new and it was going to be great. You’d make sure of it.

~~

Your initial intention had been to try a new activity; pottery or rug making or something hands on but when your stomach grumbled you figured a new restaurant was still as adventurous as you were looking for. 

You weren’t in a particular mood for anything so you entered “restaurants near me” into your phone and scrolled until you found a cute retro-looking diner that was only a thirty-minute walk from you.

You could use the fresh air and the exercise so you clicked on the directions and placed your headphones into your ears as you began walking down the street.

 The diner was as cute as the pictures had shown, if not cuter. The retro 70’s style of the seats and decor was always a style you’d been a fan of. It was the kind of place where a lot of influencers would probably come to take pictures. You wondered why you’d never come across this place only to spot the “Just opened!” sign on the cherry red counter. 

As soon as you sit down you’re approached by a man who seems too cute to be a server, he’s dressed in a leather jacket and jeans with a simple white T-shirt underneath. He looks like he’s straight out of Grease and it almost makes you laugh at how much he fits in.

Much to your surprise, the handsome stranger pulls a notebook and pen out of his pocket and smiles at you.

“What can I get for a pretty lady such as yourself?”

The compliment makes you blush and you quickly realize that he fit in so well because he did work here. You figured there would be some sort of uniform or apron the servers would have to wear but apparently, they were all free to come dressed like they just walked out of a teenage vampire TV series. 

He tilted his head when you didn’t respond and you watched the way a strand of his hair fell in front of his face and suddenly you felt like a teenage girl all over again.

You quickly cleared your throat and looked back down at the menu “Oh uhm- I will get…”

You looked over the menu and picked out the first thing that sounded appealing, tacking on a milkshake at the end of your order. 

Your server wrote everything down with practiced ease and flashed you a charming style before going to put your order in. 

Once your food was delivered and you were chowing down you began absentmindedly scrolling on your phone through your Instagram fyp, it was all your typical preferred content and you liked and saved a few posts before your milkshake was brought out by a woman who was dressed in various shades of red white and pink, an apron sat tied around her waist. 

So they did have a uniform? 

Or was this one of those places that only made women dress up? You smiled at the waitress as she handed you your drink and you thanked her and began scrolling through your coworker's posts.

One of the women you worked with had just gotten engaged. You clicked on her profile and scrolled through the posts of her with all her friends. The sight only reminded you of your lack thereof and your current… predicament with your only friend.

Your mood quickly turned sour once again and you found yourself sadly sipping your milkshake as you stared out of the window, watching couples pass by and squinting your eyes at them in jealousy.

You're sure you probably looked weird and you weren’t all that surprised when an older man approached your booth. You were sure you were about to get kicked out for glaring at potential customers when his lips turned down into a frown and his hands landed on his hips, he was wearing a white apron and a nametag that said “Dale”, and from the looks of it, he was some kind of cook.

“Never in my 30 years running this place have I seen someone look so sad eating my food” Before you had a chance to respond he was sliding into the seat across from you and telling you about how the restaurant came to be.

 He told you a lot of stories about his wife and all the ways he tried to win her over before she finally agreed to date him. 

You laughed more in the 30 minutes he was talking to you than you had in over a week and you smiled at the warm sensation that filled your stomach. You forgot how good it could feel to interact with other people in person. 

After you finished laughing at Dale’s most recent tale you sighed with a smile on your face and made eye contact, hoping to convey your sincerity

“I’m sorry I looked so upset earlier- I swear it wasn’t because the food was bad”

Dale just smiled knowingly and nodded his head at your phone

“Partner troubles?”

You blushed, not able to make eye contact with Dale as thoughts of you and Nat swarmed your head. Briefly, you wondered if she’d like this place, and you quickly shook the idea from your head.

“Not exactly, I’m just a little salty I guess. Everyone my age is getting married and I can’t even keep a boyfriend.” You covered your face in embarrassment, unable to face the complete stranger whom you just spilled your guts to. When you finally gained the courage to remove your hands Dale was looking at you with a mischievous smile. 

“What” You tilted your head, a confused smile overtaking your face

“Let me introduce you to my son. He’s around your age, very outgoing, very charming” He winked at you when he said the last trait and you couldn’t help the small chuckle that left you. You were always anxious when it came to new people but you promised yourself you were going to try new things today so you lightly nodded your head and Dale immediately stood up to go fetch his son.

A minute later your original server begins heading your way and you prepare to hand him your card but you’re surprised when he sits down in the spot where Dale sat. Before you can say anything Dale is back with another milkshake telling you it’s on the house and leaving with another quick wink.

It finally registers in your head a second later that the man across from you is Dale's son, hence why he probably didn’t have to wear a uniform. It was nice of him to help out his father.

You stuck your hand out across the table and felt your lips curl into a friendly smile. 

“So you’re the infamous son I’ve heard so little about?”

A smirk appeared on your table buddy's face and his warm hand reached across the surface and clasped yours in a firm grip.

“So I am”

The two of you talked for what felt like 4 hours but was only one, During that period you finished your milkshake and learned that Dale’s son’s name was Dolion after his Greek great-grandfather but that he preferred to go by “Leon”, you also learned that Leon and his father had just moved here on account of his mother passing away. 

The two of you hit it off more than you thought and you found you shared a lot of similar interests, although he was a lot more outgoing than you were.

Leon was by far one of the most charming men you’d ever met, his father was right, and when you found yourself getting up to leave he grabbed you by the arm and asked you for your number, how could you say no?

The walk home was a happy one and you found yourself stopping to sit at a park with a smile on your face as you thought about your day. 

Maybe it would be a good month after all.

Maybe this was the start of something really lovely

Pt.11

No Nat content this chapter sorry guys :( ~ Starry

----------Taglist------

@marvelwomen-simp @cd-4848 @wandanatlov3r @rebeltombraider @ctrlamira @fxckmiup @aliherreraaa @natsxwife @la-douler-ne-finite-jamais @romanoffsgal @moistblobfish @natashaswife4125 @elenimoris @how-to-disappearrr @screechcat

[juniefruit]

*.college bf jeongin.*

today I present: innie thoughts. Tomorrow? who knows.

Word count: 703

He would definitely follow you around at first, desperately wanting your attention. He would savor every interaction and be extremely energetic, like a puppy. His fluffy hair would bounce with each step as he practically shakes  with the amount of energy he has. He would definitely prod and poke at you if you don’t say something back for a while, as you’ve kind of just blurred him out as you walk to class. He’d ask questions like, “when’s your next class?” “where are you headed?” He annoyed you at times, but you could never stay agitated for too long, at least he was cute. I can imagine it’s a chilly fall day, scarved wrapped around your necks and swaying in the breeze. Orange leaves fall from the trees around you, which accented his copper-colored hair. When Jeongin asks if you want to get food together, you agree on one condition: he stops talking for the rest of the walk. He practically bursts with excitement, but his lips stay sealed. Finally some silence. Surprisingly, as you kept hanging out more, he toned down his energy since he finally got what he wanted. He worked up the courage to ask you out officially, and the rest is history. 

Total golden retriever energy!! His own preference is to go out on dates, or some kind of activity. Being with you, he’s beginning to understand that dates don’t always have to be over-the-top and energetic. Sometimes, just lounging on the couch watching netflix is just as special. He’s just grateful to spend time with you anywhere. 

He definitely gets you small presents all the time,  just things that ‘reminded him of you’, or sometimes it’s even a cool rock or pebble that caught his eye on the way to class. You keep all the rocks on a shelf in your room after you clean them. One however, stood out the most. Innie decided that he wanted to try the tiktok date trend where you try to find a rock that matches each other’s eye color. You two would look crazy, squatting down near the riverbank sifting through the rocks and pebbles. But you didn’t care, as long as it was with innie, you’d try anything he asked for. Perhaps it was because you loved his smile, and how his eyes creased with joy. His energy is infectious. He exclaims loudly when he picks up a golf-ball sized rock, and waddles across the uneven riverbank to hold it up to your face. “A perfect match!” Jeongin giggles afterwards. The silence that follows is comforting, as you stare fondly at eachother. His hand comes up to cup your jaw and press a delicate kiss to your lips. 

Jeongin is always there when your class is dismissed, waiting while leaning onto the closest wall. He has your schedule memorised, and when it’s not possible to sign up for the same classes, he will plan out what would work best so he still has time to see you between classes.

You two go on many cafe study dates, even if you end up just chatting for most of it. However, once you two decide to focus, Jeongin is so eager to help you memorize concepts by quizzing you and using flashcards. He always says you deserve a reward for working so hard. The reward? Millions of kisses to every inch of your face once you get back to your apartment.

While you’re studying, Innie wears his thin round-frame glasses. They make him look so ethereal, like he’s straight out of a designer magazine. You definitely snap some new pictures for your phone lockscreen. Which, you guys definitely have matching lockscreens, profile pics, everything. It’s so cute how enthusiastic Innie gets about choosing the right set of pictures. Or sometimes, you’ll go out with the sole purpose of taking new Instagram profile pictures. You’ll go through possible photoshoot locations, plan matching outfits, the whole deal. He is so dedicated to taking your pictures, like your own personal photographer.

Innie is always there to comfort you, because seasonal depression and schoolwork don’t mix well. It could be a gloomy winter day, but Jeongin acts as the light at the end of the tunnel.

read some more here~ masterlist

[mysticalsoot]

this is reality

sort of sbi au and autistic!wilbur centric fic

A/N; this took me like four days and it was simply bc I wanted to write autistic will stimming. like the whole concept was the last scene, I just got carried away with james and wilbur bestie moments

Summary; Wilbur Soot also known as Wil Gold is the lead of an up-and-coming indie rock band named Lovejoy. They've only released two EPs in 2021 and are preparing to release their next single Call Me What You Like, but Wilbur is concerned his contribution to the song is what will be their downfall.

OR; Wilbur is autistic, insecure, and anxious so he's surprised when the UK charts are released that maybe he makes good art that people love

TW; anxiety, panic, swearing and I think that's it

Characters; Wilbur, James, Ash, Tommy

Words; 5.4k

dedicated to; @loverboy-soot bc i sent him sneak peeks constantly and I have been meaning to finish and post this every day I've written on it

masterlist

my ao3

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Wilbur had always dreamed of having his own band, people who loved music just as he did and put as much passion and care into the music they made.

He had that now. Joe, Mark, and Ash were the best friends and bandmates he could ask for. They were passionate and creative—they put their all into their art and their dedication was beginning to pay off. There was a manageable amount of non Dream SMP or MCYT Lovenjoyers, but they were getting recognized in mainstream media more often. They’d been on the radio a few times, and they’ve trended on youtube before and they appeared on at least two Spotify-curated playlists. They weren’t big but they were becoming less and less of a silly little indie band by the day.

And Wilbur knew their next single was their big break. It would jumpstart their career further into the industry, he just knew it. Or, well, he hoped it would. There was a gnawing at his brain and his heart that their new song wasn’t all that, that he was fooling himself by believing it was their best yet. The man couldn't get his hopes up, but he also couldn't really help himself in doing so. He loved it so much, he had poured his heart into the lyrics for years, the instrumentals and melodies for the past year—it was his baby. And Call Me What You Like was the song to make or break Lovejoy’s future.

It was a few days to premiering. Wilbur stood in his bedroom pacing back and forth, gnawing at the skin around his nails which nearly drew blood. He pulled his hands away when he began tasting copper.

He tried rocking back and forth on his feet, standing on his toes, lifting himself up and then dropping to stand on his heels. Back and forth, back and forth. Over and over.

That didn't help either.

He tried flapping his hands and pacing. Squeezing his eyes open and closed.

He did everything he could to ease the anxiety that ate him from the inside out.

He rubbed his eyes with the corner of his palms until stars shown in the black of his eyes and a stinging pain appeared with it.

He groans as he kicks the corner of his bed, hissing and reaching down to grab his foot when the pain shoots up from his stubbed toes to his brain where he registers the sensation.

A silent fuck is muttered under his breath.

"Jesus, fuck!" He yells into the void of his room and throws himself down into his desk chair. He quickly clicks on the discord icon. The usual starting pop-up appears and the wumpus logo spins on the window as it loads the program.

He selects the last dm he's opened and goes to type a message; to James.

WilburSoot 7:35 PM, Today

wanna come over?

The question was simple and open-ended and it didn't require an explanation from Wilbur as the reason was probably clear. But not entirely.

James started typing moments later, he wasn't even online when Wilbur initially messaged him, but the moment the message went through, James' name shown as online. He began typing shortly after.

James 7:37, Today

yea sure. you ok tho?

Wilbur hesitated over the keyboard, chewing at the inside of his cheek as he contemplated an answer.

WilburSoot 7:38, Today

oh yeah, I'm fine man. just missed ya.

He hoped he could easily pass James' bullshit detectors, at least until he saw him face to face. It was easier to fib through a screen rather than in person. He didn't have great control over his facial expressions, he was terrible at hiding anything he felt and sometimes he wasn't even sure what he felt so expressing that was difficult. It's easier to lie anyways.

Wilbur sat in silence, opting to chew on his cuticles again as he patiently waited for a response. James began typing just before stopping again, he'd start and then stop over and over. This went on for quite a few moments and Wilbur grew more and more anxious. He wasn't sure why—James had already given his answer but watching as those three dots appeared and disappeared became just one more creature that ate at the flesh inside him.

James 7:40, Today

alright, I'll be over in 10

Wilbur sighed in relief, his hands dropping to his lap and his head hitting the back of his chair as he leans on it. He runs his hands down his face and he lets out a sound close to a laugh but it's more like a strained huff of air.

He uses his hands to push on his desk, his chair rolling backward and he stands up in a rush, hissing at the creaking sound the chair makes as it spins behind him.

I need to fix that, he notes, before hastily grabbing his phone off his bed and shuffling out of his bedroom. His overhead light was already turned off due to the horrendous sound it made. It was like a static clicking, unlike most lights and it was beyond painful. Part of him was quite thankful it was his apartment. That way he could have whatever lights he wanted off, off, and whichever ones he wanted on, on. It was a wonderful thing.

He found himself walking over to his sofa and carefully sitting on the far left side, pulling his legs to rest underneath him. He quickly unlocked his phone and began scrolling tiktok as he awaited James’ arrival.

It was what felt like much less than ten minutes later when there came a knock on wilbur’s flat door and he hopped up. Wilbur shuffled over to the door, quietly but quickly turning the door knob before opening the door to let James in.

“How are you, Wil?” The question catches Wilbur off guard and James stands in front of Wilbur, hands in his jeans pockets and eyes trained up on Wilbur.

The man shrugs, walking away from his friend but gesturing for the other man to join him on the sofa. He finds his previous spot, legs still tucked under himself. James joins him on the other side, shuffling his shoes off his feet before bringing his own legs to rest under him.

“Okay, Wilbur. Why did you ask me over?” James crosses his arms, a stern glare trained on Wilbur and he tries to meet his friend's eyes but panics and diverts his gaze on the wall behind him.

“As I said, I missed you.” He speaks plainly, doing his best to give a soft smile but seemingly failing given the breathy chuckle James gives in response.

“Hmm, like I believe that. I’m not gonna push but I know something more is going on.” James is flat with his delivery, but sincere nonetheless. Wilbur is, surprisingly, able to read the concern stitched into the expression James wears, his eyes soft as he gazes at his friend.

A comfortable silence falls upon the two and Wilbur leans his head against the back of the sofa, his own arms crossing over his chest.

“Mario Kart?” Wilbur’s question breaks the silence and James scoots off his spot on the sofa and hurries over to the tv stand, turning on Wilbur’s old Wii console and slipping in the old Mario Kart cd.

After the TV boots up, James walks back over to sit next to Wil, throwing him a Wii remote steering wheel. “I’m going to beat your ass, William.” The use of Wilbur's legal name earns a laugh from the anxious man and his friend huffs.

“I’d like to see you try.” He smiles, what he thinks is a genuine smile and he clicks through the various introduction screens. He lets James choose his character first—Wario, as always—before he chooses his own, which is always Mario. He likes it simple and predictable, Mario is just that.

The two play a game on the coconut mall map, Wilbur ahead of James—but not for long before his friend catches up to him, knocking him off course and taking his spot in first.

Wilbur grunts at his friend, using various power up's to gather momentum in order to steal his spot back. His attempts return to fruition and he yells in triumph when he passes the finish line, coming in first.

"Fucking told you!" Wilbur laughs in giddy, shaking his hands in pure joy, his eyes closed tightly and a smile wide as can be—one he knows is genuine.

"Jeez man, why are you so good at this game?" James puts his controller on the coffee table, pulling his legs up onto the sofa and resting them in front of him.

"I'm just that good." Wilbur's snarky remark earns a scoff from his friend and he rests his hands behind his head in triumph.

"You need to work on that ego of yours."

"I do *not* have an ego!" Wilbur counters, dropping his arms to cross against his chest and he exaggeratingly huffs.

"Oh like anyone would believe that!" James laughs, a soft, considerate laugh despite the joke thrown at his friend.

"Wow, such little faith." Wilbur smiles and lets a silence fall on the two, the only sound heard is James readjusting his spot on the couch, and a few sighs let out occasionally before going to scroll Twitter on his phone.

Wilbur fiddles with his hands, looking over at James before going to stand and pace again, he tries to be subtle about it, avoiding the attention of his friend. He tries all of his common coping stims, handshakes, bouncing on his feet, rolling on his feet, tapping his fingers, etc. Doing anything he can to cope with the anxiety that was deciding to reappear again. He keeps his eyes on the carpet below him, spinning on his heels to walk the other way when he gets too close to the wall.

James watches Wilbur, eyeing him and his pacing. Wilbur doesnt notice the eyes on him, and James is thankful for that as he sifts his mind for any reason for Wilbur’s current panicked state. He knows something is up and wrong but he’s sure he won’t get an answer out of the man no matter how hard he tries. He would love to be able to guess Wilbur’s reasoning for his panic, but he isn’t telepathic and he can barely understand his own reasoning, let alone another person’s reasoning. James hesitates, he opens his mouth to speak but shuts it closed a moment later. He averts his gaze back down to the phone in hand, mindlessly going through whatever fiery chaos that was his timeline.

He tries his best to keep his gaze off Wilbur, and it worked for the most part but it eventually got to the point his worry outweighed his desire to stay unnoticed. James watched as his friend continued pacing, tapping his fingers or shaking his hands. Wilbur was nervous but James couldn't pinpoint why.

He makes an attempt, "Wil, are you alright?"

Wilbur's head shoots up and his eyes dart to James focused on his forehead but giving the impression he's making eye contact. He's not.

Wilbur hesitates, going to say something when the words lodge themselves in his throat. He nods.

James goes to stand, walking to where Wilbur is frozen in place. He rests his hands on his friend's shoulders. "You can tell me, I know you're not."

"I'm- I'm fine." Wilbur manages to stutter out, wiggling his fingers in another attempt at calming himself. It doesn't work either.

James looks at him with a stern glare, not one of any malice but one of intense care for the other. 

"Wilbur." He warns, unwavering in his attempts at calming the other.

Wilbur shakes his head, eyes focused on the fibers of his carpet, and he's glad it's soft.

"I said I'm fine, James. Okay?" His tone is sharp, and he knows how mean it sounds but he doesn't mean it that way and James knows that.

James keeps his gaze on his friend, squeezing his shoulders in reassurance and Wilbur attempts to meet his gaze. 

It's a few moments before Wilbur cracks, the realization that James isn't letting this go—that James cares—seeps into his mind and he lets down his wall.

"I'm anxious, very anxious. Scared even, I think." Wilbur's voice is small, and it's shaky. "I'm scared that the song isn't as good as we think, that it'll ruin our careers or that it just won't land right, and that all our hard work will be for nothing because I ruined it all."

"Woah, woah, woah. Where is all this coming from? You have the fanbase you do, because you're talented, because Lovejoy is talented. The song is amazing, you've heard it from everyone and their mothers and you wouldn't if it wasn't true." James pauses, taking a moment to think of what he should say next, his hands still resting on Wilbur's shoulders to keep his friend's attention. "It is going to put Lovejoy on the map. I know it."

Wilbur shakes his head, eyes focused downwards. "But it could be what lights us in flames too."

James laughs, a lighthearted and bright laugh, "You really think that?" Wilbur nods. "Man, you are so wrong."

Wilbur looks up, head tilted and eyebrows knitted in confusion. Big brown eyes wide with fear.

"You're seriously the most talented person out there, anything you make either on your own or with people will be and is amazing. Don't undersell yourself, Wil." James lets his hands fall from his friend's shoulders and he holds his arms open, inviting Wilbur for a hug. "Hug?"

Wilbur nods and takes up his offer, wrapping his arms around the slightly shorter man and resting his forehead on his shoulder. "Thank you," Wilbur mutters, the fabric of James' jacket muffling the sound.

"It's what friends are for." James pulls away and so does Wilbur. "Wanna watch a movie to get your mind off of it?"

Wilbur smiles softly, nodding, "That sounds great. Popcorn?" James nods and Wilbur swiftly leaves the sitting room to head into the kitchen moments later.

"What d'ya want to watch?" James calls from the TV, voice echoing through the walls.

"Anything but Marvel."

"Aw man, I was gonna put on the new ant man movie!" James laughs, and Wilbur does too, readjusting his attention to the popcorn he threw in the microwave. 

"Very funny, James!" Wilbur calls back, chuckling to himself as the microwave beeps. He takes the package of popped popcorn and hisses when he burns his fingers, shaking them in the air and blowing on them as if it would help the pain. He rushes to pull open the paper bag when doing so he pours out the contents into a turquoise bowl, his favorite but James doesn't need to know that.

He takes the bowl into the living room after discarding the popcorn bag into the trash. He holds up the bowl, greeting James.

"I grabbed your weighted blanket, by the way, hope that's okay." James gives a soft but nervous smile to Wilbur and he smiles wide in return, nodding enthusiastically.

"Thank you," He mumbles in response, his smile warm and thankful.

James widens his own smile in return, "I was afraid it wouldn't be, it's over on your spot." He points over to the far left side of the sofa—it may be Wilbur's sofa but he has a tendency to lean more towards sitting on the far left side. It's just a habit, and he's grown to dislike breaking it. 

He walks over to his spot, sitting down just as he did before with his legs tucked under him. He still holds the popcorn bowl and he hands it over to James when said friend finds his spot next to him.

"We could watch Hamilton," Wilbur suggests, head turning to look towards James. He makes eye contact briefly but feels that same uncomfortable panic and averts his gaze again.

"Really, Wilbur?" James' tone is playful, and you can see through his eyes that he's seriously considering it, and the pout Wilbur puts on only makes his case clearer. "Okay, Hamilton it is." James then throws the remote to Wilbur and he catches it immediately. There's a soft, warm smile graced upon James' lips and he crosses his arms over his chest in contentment.

It's a few moments before Wilbur finds Hamilton on Disney+ and selects play, but the moment it begins, his eyes are glued to the screen. He barely touches the popcorn he made as he feels the anxiety drain from him and his body finally feels relaxed. Maybe it's his weighted blanket or his comfort media that helped, but he considers it and believes that maybe it was James. His words and his presence helped calm Wilbur.

It's silent between the two for the next three hours, Wilbur's attention barely staying from the musical playing before him. James notices the silent happy stims Wilbur begins to do, small, soft handshakes or rocking side to side. His smile is wide and James is happy, he's happy he was the one to help and he is beyond glad he was the one Wilbur reached out to.

He knows why Wilbur was upset, why he was anxious and pacing his flat. The anxious thoughts got to his friend, dug into him deep, and began tearing him apart one by one. Something about Wilbur thinking of going to James first for something so stressful and serious—even if he avoided speaking about it at first—was reassuring, or calming to know. He's important to Wilbur just as much as Wilbur is to James. 

Everyone deserves a James, and everyone deserves a Wilbur.

Someone who knows you'll be there for them, someone who will find what would make you most comfortable and help you, who will sit with you in silence and simply be in your presence and enjoy it.

This was nice, this was good. And James was happy.

There was a moment of contemplation after the musical had ended on whether James should leave or not. Part of him wanted to stay so he could be sure Wilbur's anxiety wouldn't kick back up and eat him alive, but the other part of him knew he had to get back to Aria and Otto. He loved Wilbur, he was his best friend, but he also knew Wilbur may not handle him staying the night, and he was okay with that.

"I think I'm gonna head home for the night. You'll be okay?" James began to get up off the sofa, throwing on his jacket that he discarded on the chair, his gaze locked on Wilbur. He had his legs pulled up against his chest and his eyes were locked on the floor.

He nods, "Yeah, I'll be fine..You go home." His tone was flat, and it made James unsure in his decision. He bit the inside of his cheek as he paused, standing frozen as he gazes down at his friend who seemed to fall back into the pit of panic.

"Are you sure?" James is keen on being fully sure it's okay to leave Wilbur alone.

Wilbur looks up and gives a soft—masked—smile, "Yeah, of course...Go home to your family."

James rolls his eyes and laughs, "Otto is a cat."

"He's still family, isn't he?" Wilbur inquires, his tone light and playful now.

James groans and smiles, and then turns to leave for the door. "I'm a text or call away, remember that." And then he heads out the door, softly closing it behind him and then he's out of Wilbur's sight and earshot.

Wilbur shakes his head and rests his head against his knees, doing his best to calm his breathing. He decides to put Hamilton back on, maybe it'll help again.

And so he spends the rest of the night like this, head rested on his knees, arms wrapped around his legs, and the comfort of Hamilton playing in the background. Eventually, he sleeps.

                                                     —★—

It's days later and mere hours to the release of Call Me What You Like. He's sniffly and truly feels like shit with his head feeling like it was stuffed with cotton and his body being dredged in slime.

It's a horrible gross feeling and he really wishes he didn't go talk to fans after their gig this past Saturday. It's by no means their fault, he just has the worst and weakest immune system known to man—and he knows it.

He was pacing again, the skin around his nails raw and bleeding. He didn't have enough self-restraint so his coping mechanisms today were more self-destructive than usual or than they should be.

The rest of the band had been talking in the group chat all day and he had ignored every message, their positive outlook only made things worse. It really should be what makes it better but their hope for everything to go well and their seeming knowledge of it doing so, dragged him down and only fed the negative thoughts. 

It would only crash and burn because of him, not because of the others, so it made since they had a positive outlook. If it burned it wouldn't be their fault by any means.

His pacing only got worse, and he started to pull at his hair. It was an hour to midnight, hes been avoiding Twitter or any other social platform that would tell him what people thought all day. The Australian fans had already listened to it since it's realized at midnight on your local time—but he was too scared to see what they had to say. So he had all of his devices turned off or facing down. 

He didn't want to know, he was too scared to know.

He eventually tired himself out and ended up laying on the floor, blood still flowing with panic. His phone went off at exactly midnight and he waited a few minutes before opening his phone, only to be flooded with oceans of messages from his friends and fans. His friends asked if he was okay, and they seemed worried and concerned—they already heard the song so they didn't have much to congratulate him on. The messages, indirects, and mentions online from his fans were all messages of care and congratulations. Expressing their love for the new song and the new sound—they seemed to believe it was a masterpiece. Some people even used that word.

The flow of words upon his screen took him aback. He wasn't sure how to process all of the positive messages, and he was sure this was a dream. I mean, it had to be. How could so many people love the song so much, so soon? 

Maybe it was because the words he was seeing were from his already existing fanbase—the people who are devoted to Lovejoy and wouldn't switch their opinion over one song. It wasn't a sound comparison is what his brain told him. So surely, in the next few days, it'll crash and burn.

He didn't have much longer to sink into his anxious thoughts, as Ash was quick to call him. Wilbur hesitated before picking up and bringing the phone to his ear.

"Hey," His voice cracked from the lack of use and he dug his hand into the carpet, grabbing at the fibers.

"Well, hello, Wilbur." Ash's voice was joyful, and bright, a very large contrast to how Wilbur felt or sounded. "Have you seen what people are saying? They love it!!" He's so quick to enthusiasm, his voice pitching up towards the end and he lets out a joyful laugh.

Wilbur smiles softly at his friend's reaction, but is still hesitant to believe it to be the truth, "Yeah, yeah I saw some of that." He pauses, breath catching in his throat as he mulls over his next action. "Are they lying, though? I mean they're the ones that have been here ages—they could actually hate it and just say they like it." Wilbur's voice is low and quiet, only audible to the man on the other end of the line.

Ash sighs and lets out a breathy chuckle, "It's the internet, Wil. They'd be brutally honest if it was bad." 

Wilbur shakes his head, "But they're our fans, they could lie to save our feelings." 

"Dude, you're one of my closest friends and I would hate to hurt your feelings—but you sound like an idiot right now." Wilbur can hear Ash's smile through his words, it's playful in the way he says it.

"I'm sure I do—" He cuts himself off, running his free hand through his hair in a stressed motion. He's at a loss for words, he doesn't know what to say anymore, so he just falls from where he stands, sitting with his legs forward on the floor. 

"They love it, Wilbur. And you're part of the reason why." Ash is genuine in the way he reassures Wilbur, he means it just as much as he believes it himself.

Wilbur shrugs, and he feels the anxiety gnawing at his insides again. "You think so?"

"I know so."

"I'm sorry." 

"What the hell are you apologizing for?" Ash sounds almost offended at Wilbur's words like he just insulted Ash's firstborn child.

"For being a bother? Or for possibly ruining our career." His voice has gone small again, almost mirroring his attempt at curling in on himself, making him seem smaller.

"You're never a bother—and if anything you're the reason we're even here in the first place. Give yourself some more goddamn credit." Ash isn't harsh with his delivery, but stern. And caring—he means well.

"Sorry again," Wilbur replies sheepishly, regretting opening up about his doubts in the first place. He really feels like a burden now, and it's far from Ash's fault.

"Do I need to ban that word?" Ash laughs, and Wilbur can hear the smile through his words and he smiles back.

"No, no, I won't say it anymore. Promise." Wilbur reassures, his smile is unwavering but still small and soft.

"By the way, I was calling to ask if you wanted to come over to mine tomorrow? Joe and Mark are gonna be there too. We're celebrating Call Me What You Like, we tried texting you—" Ash begins but Wilbur is quick to cut him off.

"I'd love to, I'm sorry about ignoring my phone—it was just too hard." Wilbur nervously admits, scratching the back of his neck.

"Yeah, no, I understand. Don't worry, dude. See you at 11?" Wilbur nods and then shortly replies verbally when he realizes Ash can't see him.

The embarrassment bubbles up in his throat but he pushes it down and hurriedly says his goodbyes to Ash. When they've bid their farewells and he's hung up the phone, he heads to his room—deciding sleep is the next thing he should do. He needs much more of it than he's been getting, especially in his ill state. He's not contagious but he notes it as a valid excuse in case he chickens out the next day before he goes over to see his bandmates.

He's more afraid of bringing them down than seeing them. He'd hate to be the reason they feel bad about the song.

                                                                    —★—

It's been a week since their new single was released, they've been on the radio even more than before, they've announced and sold out an entire tour and the love they've received on it has been absolutely mind-boggling. Wilbur's anxieties over it have practically dissipated entirely, besides the nagging thoughts in the back of his mind about the album—but it's far too early to worry about that. Right now, Wilbur was alone in his flat yet again, patiently waiting for the UK Top 40 charts to release. A few hours prior he posted a video asking everyone to stream CMWYL in hopes they can get a spot on the charts—it'll help get them noticed by important music executives but also reassure him that it's actually good, they wouldn't stream it if it wasn't, right? He didn't mention or consciously realize the second reason, but it was all the same in how prominent of a thought it was.

A few minutes from now and he'll find out statistically how much of a success CMWYL is. Sitting at his desk and refreshing the chart's website is probably not the best option for his anxiety—but he still does it nonetheless. He patiently sits there as he awaits the release of the UK charts. I mean he has nothing better to do at the moment, he's off and he's enjoying his free time just the way he wants.

He's nervously tapping his fingers on his free hand while his knees bounce in the usual gnawing anxiety that he holds. He keeps refreshing the page as he waits for that one moment of truth.

His eyes burn from staring at the screen so long, especially without blinking, and he contemplates taking a break for a moment but then reminds himself why he's doing this in the first place.

After a few more refreshes and the charts are released, he scrolls down the list of songs and artists. He's beginning to get disappointed when he gets into the 20s, but he's soon surprised when he gets to the #32 spot.

Call Me What You Like by Lovejoy is #32 on the UK Charts.

He practically leaps up out of his desk chair when he realizes what he's read. He can't quite tell if the wetness on his cheek is tears of joy or from his eyes watering from yawning and holding his eyes open for hours on end. But he doesn't care, his silly little band has made it. Or, well, it's starting to make it. It's just the first step to becoming known and loved, they can finally get their art out into mainstream media, with new people. They can share their passion with more people.

He's ecstatic, flapping his hands and bouncing around his bedroom floor. It's finally happened. Lovejoy is going to be the indie rock band. And he helped.

Oh my god, he helped!

He goes to rock on his feet as he thinks about what he should do next—obviously, he needs to tweet to thank everyone—should he call his brother? Or maybe his dad, or mum even. He isn't sure where to start first but he seems to go into autopilot as he makes the tweet, taking a photo of him pointing at the computer screen and then another of him flipping out, a blurred and chaotic photo if we're entirely honest. He then texts the LVJY text chat, telling them and showing them photos of it and sending links with it as proof.

And then he calls Tommy, the call is immediately picked up on the other end, a gruff and very Tommy-like hello being muttered on the other end.

"Toms! We're #32 on the charts!" Wilbur exclaims all in one breath, smiling so wide his face hurts and he's giggling from joy. He still bounces on his feet but his hand flapping has died down a little. He spins and jumps around and hopes to God his downstairs neighbors aren't home to be upset at him.

"Really?? Dude, I'm so proud of you!" Tommy replies, and Wilbur is taken aback by how out of character that is—but he takes it, he takes it and he runs with it. His little brother is proud of him.

"Yeah! Yeah! We're finally on the charts man!" His voice is so bright and excited and Tommy laughs at the excitement his big brother exudes.

“You wanna go out and celebrate tomorrow?” Tommy poses the suggestion, voice poking up at the end.

Wilbur quickly nods, “Yeah, of course! Sorry for calling so late by the way--I had to tell someone.” He lets out a small laugh at his own words.

“Glad it was me, big bro.” Tommy’s response and nickname for Wilbur aren't unusual but he can't help from wanting to pick on the younger boy but decides against it.

“Thank you, Toms. I’m gonna head to bed, see you tomorrow?” Wilbur shuffles over to sit on the edge of his bed. 

“Yeah, I’ll text you the plans! Sleep well, bitch.” Tommy lets out an airy laugh and Wilbur mirrors it in response to Tommy being so Tommy.

“Yeah, yeah, whatever. Love you.”

They bid their final farewells and Wilbur gets up and puts his phone on charge, and then slips into bed.

They’ve finally made it, and it was because of him and his talent. Turns out that anxious thoughts aren't that reliable.

[ladyjaneasherr]

If Juliet could have danced the twist with Romeo.

By Mary Teburn, TV times scan from the November 9th 1962 edition published by James Hemery on twitter (x).

As a teenager in Britain today, Shakespeare’s Juliet would probably dance the Twist, love record parties and have lots of clothes. She would say "No" to a drink and a cigarette and would probably make Romeo do the same. At least that's how vivacious, copper-haired actress Jane Asher imagines her Juliet. And she went into the part fairly thoroughly before starting to play it in Romeo and Juliet (Tuesday 3.26).

At 16, she is just two years older than Juliet was in her balcony days. With the common denominator "teenager" Jane set out to build a picture of her 14th-century counterpart. What she was like, and how she would fit into a 20th-century society, were questions that intrigued Jane. In the drawing-room of her London home she recounted a few of her impressions.

"Juliet was an uncomplicated young girl suddenly faced with a complicated romantic tangle too big for her to handle. So she poisoned herself. Today she would either run away to Gretna Green, or come to some solution with her parents," Jane said. Jane thinks that the father-daughter situation in Juliet's home was a ticklish one. And that Dad wasn't a friend and confidant as he usually is today-rather the lord and master of all. She was frightened of him. "Going against her parents' wishes was a terrible thing for Juliet. A social crime," said Jane. "Now they would probably have a round-table conference and discuss the problems. "An onlychild, her upbringing was severe and restricted. "She lived the leisurely and luxurious life of the time as an only child in a rich family.”

Juliet's friendship with her mother though, was probably comparable to the mother-daughter "conspiracy" today. From her mother Juliet learned to love clothes and to dress well. "She would approve of the clothes I wear in the play. They're high-waisted and full flowing, of beautifully embroidered heavy material. "Since she adored l dancing and loved clothes, I can just see her today-an elegant trend-setter and very fashionable," she said. "Juliet, in fact, would fit very well into today's society. She would be a member of the ‘den’ set probably (and here David Weston who plays Romeo, agrees with Jane) and have a wide circle of friends.

She would work too. Jane has even mapped out a career. “She would be a nurse, of course,” she said “You see Juliet was completely unselfish.”

“With her romantic, rather, poetic nature she would probably try her hand at art too.” The trouble it seems with Juliet, was her environment. She lived in a “closed-in” world, where women concerned themselves within the home, and rarely cared for things like politics or science. As Jane puts it, all thinking was “restricted”. So the love of one young girl for the dashing youth of a family quarrelling violently with her own was doomed at the outset. “Class distinction isn’t a barrier to romance today,” she said “they would have found it easier.” David Weston doesn’t think it would have been easier “But it certainly wouldn’t end so drastically…. I hope,” he said.

"It was a case of opposites attract. Juliet, sweet and good and unaffected, and Romeo, a gay young blade-the 'sports car type? —met and fell in love. "It's the same today. . . youth that doesn't think about the consequences until it's too late." The fact that Romeo was 17 influences David's portrayal of the role. "I play it a bit modern because I want Romeo to be as realistic as possible. I want him to appear as he was— a teenager,” he said.

It's a modern thought too, both agree, that teenagers when told not to do something by their parents, will immediately want to do that something.

Though Juliet, as Jane is quick to point out, was more sensitive than Romeo because she found it harder to disobey her parents. Coupled with her loyalty, Jane notes that one of Juliet's most endearing qualities is her dignity. "This grows with the play and we see a gradual transformation in the youthful heroine," she explained. "In the end she isn't a teenager anymore — she's a woman.” But would Romeo’s and Juliet’s romance be as exciting today? Jane wondered. Perhaps they would just meet, fall in love, go steady and marry.

[centfx]

Centfx

Copper price resumes the decline

    The copper price moved in a very negative direction yesterday, progressively moving closer to our anticipated target of 4.3380$. This strengthened the expectation that the bearish trend would continue. It should be noted, however, that breaking this level will finish the formation of a negative pattern, with a short-term target of 4.0000$ and 3.6600$.

The bearish wave's ability to continue depends on price stability below 4.7000$; a breach of this level will cause the price to turn around and rise to areas around 5.0000$.

Today's anticipated trading range is between $4.3000$ and $4.5500$.

[labgrown-diamond-ring]

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[dansnaturepictures]

Some thoughts and findings about my contributions to the Big Butterfly Count 2024 and photos from the three weeks

I have well documented over the years my enthusiasm for Butterfly Conservation’s vital summer survey to assess the health of butterfly and day-flying moth populations with since 2020 and working from home allowing constant access to Lakeside Country Park, Eastleigh close to our house meaning I did multiple counts during the survey. Since 2022 at the end of the count just for fun I’ve put all of my results which I keep a written record of after submitting to the count on the days I do them into a spreadsheet and made a leaderboard of the species and amounts I saw overall. It always interests me to look for trends and confirm anything I might have noticed during the counts and this year I thought I’d share some findings. As ever the place I did most counts this year was Lakeside with some in Winchester on office working days too, with visits to Rutland Water for the Global Bird Fair, Durlston in Dorset and visits further afield in/to the edge of Hampshire falling inside the count dates adding a bit of variety.

Overall my top five species in rank order were Meadow Brown, Gatekeeper, Small White, Ringlet and Marbled White and Speckled Wood tied in fifth. This is as predicted and much as I normally get, especially the top two. I do a separate leaderboard just for Lakeside counts which saw Meadow Brown, Gatekeeper, Speckled Wood, Six-spot Burnet and Small White make up my top five. The Lakeside leaderboard not too different to the overall one bar most of my Speckled Woods seen during the count being there and a good year for Six-spot Burnet for me.

The big theme we’ve heard so much of this year and during the count is of course the lack of butterflies and the concern this brings. I started putting my spreadsheet together yesterday morning knowing I’d likely get more counts in before the end of the survey and at that stage my data really reflected the lack of butterflies with 599 butterflies seen with an average of 16.64 per count down from 872 and 20.27 last year. However we then went to the very well managed butterfly haven Stockbridge Down yesterday afternoon and saw clouds of butterflies including my highest ever count for any species in a count of an incredible 80 Meadow Browns. Then today at Perham Down and Shipton Bellinger we saw loads of butterflies especially Meadow Browns with Common Blue and Peacock seeming to increase in numbers in recent days. This late surge pushing my figures up massively to 878 butterflies/moths in total with an average of 20.90 seen per count marginally ahead of last year! I saw 305 butterflies/moths with an average of 19.06 per count in the Lakeside counts compared to 423 and 22.26 last year.

Overall I counted less than last year of ten of the twenty species in the survey. Small White a focal point of the decreasing numbers with only 55 counted this year compared to last year’s 202; yet it only went from second to third in my overall leaderboard which says a lot I think. Red Admiral also a notable decrease but expected after the year with unprecedented numbers of them last year. I didn’t manage to see a single Small Copper in the count and other than a maybe sighting (of possibly seeing one flying very quickly I couldn’t quite tell) I’m yet to see one in Hampshire this year. One Jersey Tiger moth this year as I saw last year meant no increase or decrease for that one species and of the nine that I saw more of in the count overall this year than last most just seem down to chance. The increase in Six-spot Burnet I spotted from last year where I seemed to see more than ever is interesting, in both years particularly seeing lots at Lakeside.

As ever Marbled White and Ringlet which I did see more of than last year is interesting to look at my results for. Initially I put the increase down to the fact they seemed to first emerge in the year later than last year. I have been thinking over the last few years how this key summer pair with relatively short seasons traditionally should be at their peak in the three weeks the Big Butterfly Count is on from July into August, but as the years go by I seem to see my first in a year earlier meaning their seasons are waning with less and eventually none about into the count. Evidence of how the seasons are shifting in our changing world with the butterfly year a bit ahead of itself now. The impact of weather which has led to the troubles for insects this year possibly delaying their emergence a bit to put these two species’ season a bit more into their traditional place, Ringlet in particular I felt I was seeing at Lakeside later into the count than I’m becoming used to. However a check of my year lists this morning revealed the dates I saw my first of the year of them in June didn’t differ greatly to last year actually, in 2023 it just felt they’d been out a little while before I saw my first compared to this year when there seemed to be a lull in insects emerging in June and I first saw these species in a surge of butterfly sightings with some sunny weather. Another possible factor is that without further afield visits west to Martin Down and Durlston where the season seemed a bit behind with particularly Marbled White still out a lot during the count I may not have seen as many.

Purely for my amusement really I also compiled from my regular trip sightings lists a list of other species of butterflies and moths seen out in the day that I spotted during the days I was doing counts and I was pleased to see twenty different species to the ones in the count. Purple Hairstreak, Lulworth Skipper, Small Skipper, Essex Skipper, Silver-spotted Skipper, Large Skipper, Chalkhill Blue, Silver-studded Blue, Silver-washed Fritillary, Dark Green Fritillary, Small Heath, Wall Brown, Common Grayling, Mint moth and my first ever Magpie moths and Purple Bar among the highlights.

The photos in this set are of; Gatekeeper, Meadow Brown and Peacock at Stockbridge Down, Ringlet at Lakeside, Red Admiral at Egleton, Rutland Water, Brimstone and Comma at Martin Down and Large White, Speckled Wood and Holly Blue at Lakeside.

[leam1983]

Grief

Sarah and I didn't do shit today. I mostly bawled through the morning and emerged out of the bedroom in sweatpants, unshaved, to head straight down to the kitchen where I wolfed down two peanut butter toasts and - proceded to cry my eyes out for forty-five minutes longer. Sarah's face scrunched up as soon as she saw me turn red and she bawled with me off-and-on. Walt steered the ship with the sort of self-control you'd associate to Bomb Squad technicians - at least until he stepped away for coffee or his lunch break.

Then it was a long, strong and silent hug, with his own anguish making his diaphragm and belly shake. Walt's the type to cry when something positive or beautiful moves him to tears - but when pain's involved, he turns mostly silent.

Our Compliance Officer got a little nosy and Walt was forced to spill the beans, over vidcon. She shrugged.

"Well, you can always get another dog, right?"

Famous last words traditionally spoken by those who never owned a pet before. There is no getting another dog. There is no replacement to consider. You don't replace family members when they're gone. It's not a fucking catalytic filter that God steals from your metaphorical Mommy SUV for the ceramic and copper inserts.

When Romeo died, eleven years of love, patience, mild exasperation and so, so much fun got ripped out of me. Imagine realizing that these are your last instants with your parents, knowing it'll take you weeks, months or more to process their absence. Then imagine Walt's split-second expression of white-hot rage at that thoughtless suggestion.

I don't imagine you grieve sea monkeys. I also figure terrarrium owners trying to follow the trend of self-sufficient ecosystems in sealed jars also don't grieve nematodes.

Curiously enough, though, you do grieve computers you donate. You grieve shirts that no longer fit you. You grieve your first set of furniture, your first condo. Your first love.

Obviously, you grieve friends and family when they pass.

If your pets don't fit in that category, affectively speaking, I would contend that there's something deeply wrong with you. Pets are family - unequivocally.

I didn't just lose a dog, last night. I lost a friend, a little brother; the most constant companion in my life outside of my parents, Sarah or Walt.

Or if you want a more on-the-nose example, consider that the John Wick series, with its hours upon hours of stylish shoot-outs and body counts that would make actual hitmen and assassins blush, is entirely predicated upon grief.

Grief isn't to be taken lightly. Tell me my dog is replaceable and I'll tell you your significant other is just a lump of flesh on legs that wears cologne or perfume right.

[dreamanduality]

January '24 your (only) moment to ground it out.

By the end of 2024, you will find yourself wondering where the time went. As we delve deeper into the events of this year, the pace will accelerate, although we won't be at full speed just yet. We are only at the threshold.

January is the month for you to ensure that your foundations are solid. There is a common belief that a new calendar year signifies a fresh start for everyone. However, I challenge this notion. Your true new year has always been and will always be your birthday, marking the activation of a new phase in your life.

I have been contemplating how to present this information in a more easily understandable manner, as it feels like the curtains to the true presence of the great and powerful Oz have been drawn back. And in this case, Pluto...

Pluto will be moving into Aquarius again this month but in Sept will skip back into Capricorn until 2025. So January, your time to get that shit in order as we step into a year that begins the pursuit of defining an era.

Big Points:

Our Fair Merc Stations Direct Today!

Mars moves into Exaltation in Cap on the 4th

New Moon in Cap on the 11th

Both the Sun AND Pluto move into Aqua on the 20th (my friend Copper and I have been having discourse about this over on Tiktok)

Venus moves into Cap on the 23rd

Full Moon in Leo on the 25th

Uranus (FINALLY) Stations Direct & Fair Merc conjs Mars on the 27th

What is it that you have been working on? This is not the time to come up with new ideas only to have them crushed by Saturn in Pisces. By the time Saturn meets and passes Neptune, the illusions and delusions will crumble, and what remains of the last decade will be more than just a passing trend.

How can you use this information? by rising sign: at a very base level what planets are transiting where for you

if you want details let me know your rising sign in the comments!

I have limited availability for readings through this month email me for information (in comments). If you would like to look at your year ahead we can chat based on your timeline and my availability.

Next up! The new eclipse cycle...Aries, Libra, and Comets Oh My!

[thefanficwriterscraft]

Hi!! This is going to be very long-winded so I apologize in advance.

I just discovered you guys yesterday so I am catching up on episodes. Today I listened to the OC one and it really made me want to throw in my two cents about x reader/x you fanfic written in second person because as of this summer it was pretty much unknown to me and now it's all I write.

A little backstory on me -- I first started writing fanfiction at 13 for House MD believe it or not. Which tells you basically everything you need to know about me lmao. Actually, Jo, when I heard your username, pebblysand it actually triggered a deeply distant memory for me, like I had seen your name somewhere before. Then when you mentioned you also wrote for House MD I was sure that is where I had seen it. I was also in the Harry Potter fandom (moreso was there for Snape) but never wrote for HP.

Anyway, bringing us up to present day, in college I wrote for both Fable and Once Upon a Time, but after that I stopped writing fic for about 10 years. It wasn't until early June of last year that I fell in love with a certain metalhead that took the fandom world by storm -- Eddie Munson.

Coming back into fandom like this after being away for so many years was a bit of a shock for me. It took me a while to feel it out and find my place in it all, especially when it came to writing fanfic. Actually, this fandom was my first encounter with second person fic writing, in fact it is the most popular ship in the fandom -- Eddie x Reader. Even wildly more popular than Eddie x Steve (Steddie).

I immediately fell in love with this concept and thought it was actually quite brilliant because at the end of the day, that's what we want. To be able to insert ourselves into a story where Eddie falls in love with us. Not through some OC as was the norm before. But going further than that, what I really wanted to get into was that depending on the length of the story, these reader characters really are OCs. But because they are never given a physical description it is so much easier to insert yourself into their role in the story, which is why a lot of us read this kind of fic in the first place.

In the podcast, it seemed like the two of you didn't have a ton of experience reading this kind of fic, so I wanted to elaborate on the concept. In some cases, yes, people are writing based on request. Especially for oneshots and drabbles where characters can be a bit more vague. Physical descriptions are kept to a minimum as a standard, but in a lot of cases, people like myself do give their reader characters fully fleshed out backstories and room for character development just like any other leading character in a novel. The story I am writing at the moment is truly a novel with all the benchmarks of one, but written in second person.

You would think that this would defeat the purpose of x reader but quite the contrary, in my opinion. When reading second person it really allows you to immerse yourself into the story, for you to pretend to be someone else for a while. That's the real beauty of it for me, because I'm not constantly jarred by seeing someone else's name and picturing their OC as if I'm watching it from a 3rd person pov. It removes the barrier which typically turns me away from reading character x OC fic and allows me to really be immersed.

I adore this trend. I think it's the best thing to happen to fanfiction in recent years. It doesn't appeal to everyone, but it functions beautifully in storytelling.

I also adore this podcast that you've created together! It's a gift, thank you so much for it.

Thank you so much for this amazing message, this is so interesting. For anyone who needs context, our episode on OCs is here:

I (@pebblysand) will add my thoughts in here and I'll let @copper-dust reblog if she has anything to add.

Firstly, as a side note, the fact that you know my username from House is wild, thank you so much, I'm in awe that you remember me haha. Also, interestingly, one of my House fics (which only exists on ffn and is really bad) is actually from a second-person POV (though no reader insert). I haven't written second-person POV since but as I said on our POV episode, I really do like it when it's done well (which definitely wasn't the case in that fic, lol).

Regarding the reader-insert info you gave us, thank you so much, that is so interesting. As (I think) I said on the ep, the only fandom that I'm familiar with where I've seen this be quite an important trend is Peaky Blinders, though I have seen quite a few people talk about them on TikTok as well. I can imagine it being prominent in real people fandoms, I can see how it suits the appeal that you've described so well.

I think (IIRC) I was quite dismissive of this trend in the original episode, and for that I apologise. I think my struggle was very much rooted in what you're describing in your ask, which is that these reader-insert characters generally seem to be fully-fledged people! The ones I've skimmed through on Peaky Blinders seem to not only have a certain appearance but most importantly fully-fledged personalities. Thus, I've always struggled to see how a reader "inserts" themselves in them. To me, it feels like this is the complete opposite of a self-insert, it's like being asked to insert myself into someone who isn't all like me 😅. To give you an example, I'm someone who is quite loud IRL, so if I read a reader-insert that's like "you are small and quiet," I'm like, "well, no" 😆 and that kind of puts me off. But now that you've explained people use these to basically cosplay in the story as someone else, that makes a lot more sense. And, I can totally see how having a second-person narrative also helps with that because obviously, you're probably having an easier time including the character in the story.

I think I've also wondered at times if those reader-inserts aren't actually self-inserts on the part of the author, but I suppose that is just the same deep-rooted biases we all exhibit when it comes to assuming that there's a little bit of the author in every OC (which isn't true). And, also, as @incalculablepower said in their original ask, even if some OCs are self-inserts, there is nothing wrong with that, as long as they're well crafted.

So, yeah, thank you for reaching out and defending your trade, it really opened my eyes to some things. I don't think it's a trend I would particularly like to dive into - personally - but I can now totally see the appeal, and I definitely think that regardless of how you write them, creating OCs requires a lot of work and mastery of the craft, which is super commendable. This is making me want to do an episode on real people fandoms and reader-inserts now (lol), so if you'd like to come on to talk about that, give us a shout! I have so many questions haha.

[mariacallous]

In a financialized world, can currencies shape geopolitics? Hardly a week passes without a pundit forecasting the future of the global order on the basis of subtle changes in the stock of currencies and gold stashed in central banks—as if a few more Chinese renminbi in South America, a little more gold in Asia, or the price of a virtual currency anticipates a world that is more democratic, autocratic, or libertarian. The same goes for broader trends, such as the growing share of Chinese renminbi and other forms of “autocratic money” in commodities trade, sovereign lending, and other global markets historically dominated by the West.

This punditry is not unwarranted. And yet punditry inevitably misses some crucial context—context that only fine-grained case studies can provide. Societies have always created currencies with a political function in mind—but the qualities of a currency, in turn, can also shape politics, both domestic and global. Ekaterina Pravilova’s The Ruble: A Political History persuasively offers Russia’s currency as a case study in the entanglement of money and power, and in so doing, encourages us to understand what catalyzes these global trends. A 200-year “biography of a currency,” the book positions the ruble as both an important part of imperial organization and an unexpected anchor of Soviet influence. The ruble also emerges, amid political and financial crisis, as a potential instrument of Russian democracy—yet its history ultimately demonstrates how a currency can become a primary tool for creating and maintaining an autocracy.

And while Russia’s singular monetary history has earned its economy a “backward” reputation, better known for profiting from geopolitical chaos than sound policy, it has also made the country a pioneer, leading it in a direction that many autocracies are headed today—namely, toward greater isolation from the West’s financial ecosystem. Whether that will also involve greater financial cooperation with other autocratic powers, including, as many anticipate, increased denomination of its trade and investment in China’s renminbi, depends on the Russian government’s conception of its own currency—and the related strength of its own autocracy.

When Russia first issued paper rubles in 1769, nobody considered these assignats to be real money. Catherine the Great implored Russians to trust the state, and so made these bills exchangeable for copper and silver coins stored in Assignat Banks. Before long, the expanding Russian empire demanded more paper, and Catherine supplied it in excess of the state’s stock of metal—that is to say, on credit. She vouched for assignats even amid inflation, and with no independent central bank to hold her accountable, their value depended on the sanctity of the sovereign’s word.

Assignats thus became Russia’s initial form of autocratic money, projecting Catherine’s absolute authority. At a time when the rest of Europe was demanding monetary accountability, Russia backed its currency’s value with its monarch’s “sublime power” rather than any material collateral. When Nicholas I reformed the system in 1839, replacing assignats with silver-based bills backed by the “entire patrimony of the state” rather than a mere personal promise, he intended to maintain this autocracy; indeed, the state’s wealth was not nearly sufficient to provide this support, given that it only had sufficient silver to back up one-sixth of the rubles in circulation. There was no way to actually redeem the entire nation’s wealth under these conditions: Unlike the gold reserves in Europe’s central banks, which were independent from their state’s treasury, Russia’s bullion reserve—representing the bulk of its tangible wealth—was the only one in Europe directly controlled by the state.

Liberal economists and intellectuals in Russia took issue with this lack of monetary independence. Inevitably, a monarch succumbs to the temptation to generate revenue by printing more money, leading to inflation. If money truly represented the nation’s wealth, as Nicholas I claimed, then the tsar should be prevented from destroying that wealth. Since the people bore the cost of the tsar’s excessive money printing, and they lacked political representation, the “people’s ruble” should be convertible—to gold, silver, or something else—and the state should not issue money beyond this wealth.

Russian nationalists countered that convertibility impeded the tsar’s ability to finance wars that would expand the empire and defend Christian Orthodoxy. Where else would Russia get money? If the tsar couldn’t print it as needed, he’d have to take it from foreigners in exchange for Russia’s sovereignty. Having observed that the French monarchy’s large borrowing required it to cede power to its creditors, Russia avoided borrowing in any significant way until its 1877 war with Turkey. To some, its fiscal prudence had been a virtue—even leading U.S. diplomat Alexander Hill Everett to imagine a world in which Europe was united under Russia’s military, the only one not funded by public debt.

But Sergei Witte, a savvy bureaucrat who defined Russia’s monetary thinking in the 1890s, and the central figure in Pravilova’s history, agreed that backing the currency with gold was a good idea—but not because a gold standard forced the state to commit to rational monetary policy and limited its demands for cash, as liberals hoped. Rather, Witte believed that adopting gold would become a source of stability for the ruble and national pride for Russia; a necessary reassurance to foreign creditors; and, finally, admission to the club of economically civilized nations. Russia’s conservative faction thus spun the liberal idea of convertibility into the rhetoric of the monarchy.

In 1897, Russia, Europe’s only gold-producing country and claiming its largest bullion reserve, became the last major economy to join the gold standard. Witte’s gold-backed paper and small silver change was immediately unpopular among peasants, urbanites, and indigenous Russians alike. Billed as a necessary step toward modernity, Witte’s reform struck many as a return to a medieval economy. Some asked why a relatively poor European country was stockpiling gold, rather than spending it on, say, public education. “All of thinking Russia was against” it, Witte admitted, to the point that journalists in France, the country whose monetary thinking so influenced his plan, called it a “monetary coup d’état.”

Though a coup captures the reform’s dubious origins—Witte’s backroom dealings, a secret decree, and few administrative controls—this isn’t totally accurate. Russia managed to avoid the political revolutions that had forced many of Europe’s other gold standards. And as unpopular as the reform was with Russian citizens, it did please one important faction. According to one source, foreigners invested more capital in Russia in the year after Witte’s reform than the prior 40 years combined.

Although Russia is perhaps better known for defaulting on its debt—most notably in 1918 and 1998—it was the state’s devotion to servicing its foreign loans, even at the expense of its domestic obligations, that would trigger the country’s most important political revolutions.

As its empire expanded, Russia became one of the most aggressive participants in capital markets, and Witte’s gold standard locked it in a vicious cycle: The bigger it became, the more money it needed to print or borrow, and the more gold it needed to hold in reserve. But the more it held in reserve, the less it had to spend, so the more it needed to print or borrow. Soon, Russia was borrowing gold abroad in order to sustain the rate at which it was printing gold-backed rubles, overlooking the fact that this cross-collateralized its bullion reserve, exposing it to both foreign and domestic creditors.

Most countries would simply suspend gold convertibility during war and issue fiat currency instead, but the size of Russia’s foreign debts prevented this. Revolutionaries, fed up with the state’s unaccountable, debt-funded budgets, called for an end to foreign borrowing at the expense of the Russian people. Hoping to expose the state’s insolvency, they circulated a manifesto, partly drafted by Leon Trotsky, that started a run on the regime. Depositors emptied their savings accounts, refusing to pay taxes or accept rubles for payment, while panicked creditors tried to offload Russian bonds.

The regime survived this financial crisis, but the revolution’s calls for political reform had some success: In 1905, Russia transitioned to a constitutional monarchy, and a year later elected its first legislature. However, the State Duma was given little power to separate the State Bank from the treasury, and the state maintained total monetary control.

Whereas, in the eyes of liberals and revolutionaries, the gold standard in other European countries signified true constitutionalism—political representation that demanded transparent financial policy—Russia’s gold policy was supposed to compensate for its lack of such assurances. But for Russians, the government’s rationale was a joke that, according to Vladimir Lenin, then an exiled Bolshevik leader, “made the entire world laugh.”

The viability of this unusual system was tested yet again during the First World War, which caused a race for gold that saw Russia pay unprecedented prices for it on foreign markets and led the state to call in all the country’s gold except the holiest Orthodox relics. “You’ve got a lot of gold trinkets,” read one official’s announcement, and “it is your patriotic duty to deliver all this useless luxury to the state.” Many of these trinkets were worth more in their original form than melted into gold bars. Some Russians, fearing seizure, melted their stashes of gold coins, the easier to carry them out of the country as newly crafted necklaces. The scheme netted only 655,000 rubles—enough for 13 days of wartime expenses.

World War I proved too much for Russia’s financial policy, and in 1914 it abandoned the gold standard. An income tax (which was transparent) and government bonds (which were voluntary) had replaced convertibility as the democratic mechanisms akin to a stake in Russia’s government, but they provided neither sufficient revenue to the state, nor adequate representation to the people.

Thus, even the Bolsheviks, so eager to eliminate money on the way to socialism, found that they still needed it, and generated revenue by printing rubles beyond anything seen by their imperial predecessors. (The Bolshevik-created bureaucracy would soon employ three times as many officials as the imperial government.) Financing the government through monetary emission was not the Bolsheviks’ original plan, but central planning required coordination, and money helped organize resources. Soon, revolutionaries were simply trying to manage the ruble’s depreciation and maintain the state’s monopoly on money-printing.

Reflecting on these mishaps, the early Soviet state consulted a group of experts in 1920 to consider whether money should, in fact, exist under socialism. One participant, Vladimir Zheleznov, argued that money was the only language expressing social needs. To be sure, it represents a “compromise between personal freedom and social organization,” but Zheleznov suggested that each person has an economic interest—even under socialism—and this interest is expressed in money.

Zheleznov’s view, which drew on the Aristotelian concept of money (nomisma) as a tool of reciprocity among citizens, informed the Soviet Union’s New Economic Policy (NEP) in 1921. The NEP allowed citizens to keep money in any amount, replaced Soviet food requisitions with proper transparent taxes, and replaced the imperial ruble with a Soviet one. But just as ancient Greek currency became, over time, a tool for imperialism, the Soviet reform returned Russia to Witte’s imperial standard.

Lenin, like Witte, thought gold might attract foreign investors the way it had after 1897. And so the new treasury notes, which were backed by the state’s credit just like Nicholas I’s bills, circulated alongside bank notes ostensibly backed 25 percent by gold. But with its gold reserves impaired by the war effort (and its Gulag camps yet to properly restart gold mining in Siberia), Lenin’s forces had to raid the last stash of gold in the country, the coffers of the Orthodox church.

But even as it stockpiled gold, the state never actually sanctioned the ruble’s convertibility as promised. “If a certain Ivanov comes to [the] State Bank” demanding gold, said the people’s commissar of finance, then they would assume Ivanov is a counterrevolutionary hoping to buy “a little gold mug with the tsar’s portrait.” With so many unexchangeable rubles circulating, Russians once again saw convertibility as “a panacea for our economy,” but subsequent reforms in 1947 and 1961 did not grant monetary independence—according to Pravilova, they merely reaffirmed the political role of Soviet money as “an instrument of governance, propaganda, and Cold War diplomacy.”

Both imperial and Soviet governments meddled with the monetary system without changing the institutional and political foundations of Russia’s economy, nor fixing its fundamental problem: a lack of productivity. It is no wonder, then, that former Soviet states celebrated their independence by issuing their own national currencies.

The Central Bank of Russia finally achieved independence in the early 1990s. But the ruble, which was never fully convertible under a pseudo-gold standard, has become a favored tool of Russia’s current leadership for shifting the burden of war and sanctions to the Russian people.

Reflecting on Putin’s reign, Pravilova writes that the ruble has absorbed the cost of attacks on Chechnya, Georgia, Crimea, and Ukraine. Putin’s second invasion of Ukraine in 2022 rendered the ruble mostly inconvertible to Western currencies and limited Russia’s access to global finance. Once more, the ruble became a symbol of autocracy and autarky to the West, while its exchange rate prophesied Russia’s fate in its latest war. It is why Putin rushed to stabilize the ruble after the invasion, and why the Biden administration hastened to declare its sanctions on Russia had reduced the currency to “rubble.”

Several scholars have argued that money can play a role in creating and shaping democracy, and Pravilova demonstrates that powerful rulers can use the very same instruments to control the public and consolidate their autocracy. While most of Europe was democratizing and developing the modern toolkit of central banking, Russia managed domestic crisis by changing the ruble’s form, value, or metallic backing, often in lieu of political reform. By designing a currency that maintains autocracy, true monetary accountability will remain beyond the public’s reach.

Before Russia’s gold standard was co-opted by monarchists for the sake of securing foreign credit, it was a way for liberals to demand government accountability under a regime that did not offer true political representation for its people. This concept was always undermined by a lack of monetary independence in Russia, which became liberals’ second major demand for accountability. The ruble remains one of many marginal currencies—occasionally sanctioned, constantly fluctuating, and rarely circulating outside trade alliances—issued by autocrats hoping to retain the centrality of the state over the monetary system.

From Turkish President Recep Tayyip Erdogan’s historically inflationary policies to Indian Prime Minister Narendra Modi’s unilateral seizure of rupees, Putin is far from the only ruler forcing the costs of his regime on citizens who lack proper representation. Some of these rulers have sought new means to defend their autocratic model and challenge the U.S. dollar network with monetary symbols of their authority.

Today, autocratic countries make more than half of the world’s gold purchases, some of which insulate their economies from Western meddling or back trade-oriented cryptocurrencies. Broader currency alliances aim to directly challenge the dollar standard, but attempts in Latin America and other emerging markets have crumbled for lack of a stable keystone currency.

China’s renminbi may be the politically aligned alternative they seek. About 2.5 percent of foreign official currency reserves are held in renminbi, with almost one-third of that amount owned by Russia alone. Chinese President Xi Jinping’s capital controls make the renminbi’s convertibility into Western currencies doubtful, limiting its utility for now. A larger alliance of smaller currencies allays some of that concern, but it also means that, as in imperial Russia, it is the autocrat’s promise that backs up the renminbi, and financial stability depends on his goodwill.

Faced with this prospect, The Ruble contributes to a recently reinvigorated debate: What is money? Is it a mechanism of exchange and credit, or a tool of governance and coercion? A check on autocratic power or a symbol of that power? The ruble’s role at the center of crisis and reform shows that it could be all these things, or none of them. After all, currency not only reflects the political order—it actively shapes it.

[dzpenumbra]

5/30/23

It's odd saying I'm starting this early at 3:45 AM, but I guess that's what happens when you start drinking coffee at 5 PM.

I, once again, didn't really do much today. And I'm not horribly bummed about it, honestly. Today, it's okay.

I'm feeling a bit aimless. And... going through that whole... "my art isn't going anywhere, I could be working on 'something better'" thing. It's obnoxious. At least I don't just blindly submit to it now, that's improvement.

The current open projects are: the skull, the wooden bead necklaces, the abstract ink drawings. And... none of them are really calling me right now. The skull, I kinda hit a mental block design-wise. The beads, I have to pick a day and go out and try out this spray acrylic sealer I've never used before, and figure out how to suspend beads to spray them, but without them touching each other, so they don't stick together. That kinda just put me off a bit, honestly. Long term, it might be a better idea to find a sealer that isn't Mod Podge, that doesn't have that tacky finish to it. I don't know. Or I should just bite the bullet and give it a go and see how it turns out. The abstract ink drawings? Well... I'm running into that age-old nasty reflex trained into me from a young age. I don't know if it's an American thing, a modern era thing, or just the upbringing I had... but the whole "how do I sell this?" reflex is like... good lord, it's so unbelievably anti-creativity.

Nothing in my life has killed more creative ideas than the thought "how do I sell this? Will this sell? Can I pay my bills with this?" It's so deeply unsettling. It's like... maybe not even at a conscious level... this social system is designed to... discourage creative thought. I mean, just look around. Which has more incentive? Making something that follows analytic trends and formulas? Or making something truly reflective of you as a creative, truly unique? Which is better rewarded?

I don't feel like soapboxing, the whole topic makes me so deeply depressed that I struggle to even put it into words. It just feels like we're in this phase of reboots and milking nostalgia dry for cash and copy-pasting memes and using AI to make illusions of creativity. It feels like... an age of imitation, where everyone is copying others, who are also faking it. And my life-goal in all of this? To just be as true to the concepts I stumble across as I can. And be as true to my experience and process as possible.

I feel like there's a difference between being creative and being industrious. And I don't know if support for creatives is very common out there anymore. But, of course, my perspective is very biased and comes from a place of isolation... so... maybe there are tons of people nurturing creativity... and I'm just craving it. I'm just disconnected from it. I don't know.

I said I'm not going to soapbox, so I'm done. Again, it just bums me out too much, and I'm sure it's not completely true... rather, more a reflection of my fears. Because if it were true? What purpose do I have? That's spooky, you know? But that's the old "you need to create value for others" crap I got drilled into my head by my mom talking.

So yeah, maybe what I need to do tomorrow is... okay, let's try prepping a few new test beads and taking them outside and spraying them. That way I don't have to worry about "ruining" the beads I have already made. I'll do a few that are just ink dyed and a few with Mod Podge on them. Then, if that process ends up going okay and the results are good, I'll be good to just go spray the whole batch. And the plan right now is to use copper wire or string to suspend them, and put cardboard underneath so I'm not spraying all over the grass or whatever. I don't know, I'll figure the rest out when I get there. The goal is to do that tomorrow, we'll see how that plays out.

I did yoga this morning and god was it a welcome return. I enjoyed it. But... I found some bugs on my jasmine plant. I honestly have no clue how they got there, I'm guessing they came with the cutting? I have no clue. I'm praying they didn't infest my tomato or my chili, I'm going to check them before bed to make sure. They were these weird things that looked like pillbugs, or roly-polys (however you spell that), I'm guessing some kind of plant lice, gross little shits. I just plucked them off and flung them out the window. So... that was a bummer... but...

The jasmine bloomed today. And the whole apartment smelled of it. They smell very strong, and... there really aren't a ton of flowers either... so... XD I may have bit off more than I could chew? I hope not. I've been a bit anxious about it, like... that's one thing I didn't really take into consideration before buying what will grow into a full fucking bush... whether I will like the aroma... It was really a leap of faith with it, and I really did just get the plant because of the novelty of it blooming at night. The scent is intense, but it's not bad, it's just going to take some getting used to. I spent a little time today looking up bonsais, and seeing whether you can make this species into a bonsai, and apparently you can. So... that could be a thing down the line.

So yeah, I played a bit of Risk of Rain earlier in the day, I took care of the plants, I took a shower, I did laundry, I cooked some food, I watched the tail-end of a stream, and I've just sorta been floating around since.

I've been trying to listen for my inspiration, but it feels distant right now. It feels... dull, like music on the other side of a thick wall. Speaking of music... I played guitar a bunch today, so that was good. The only real inspiration that called me today was... I realized a lot of my clothes don't fit me anymore. And are getting really old and beaten up. And I've always... I mean always been the kind of person that wears clothes until they are literally unwearable. To the point where I actually want to learn how to tailor, or at least patch clothing so I can extend its lifespan. But in my laundry today was that old white Parkway Drive wifebeater... and that thing is basically yellow at this point. I never really saw the color change because of how gradual it was, but years of sweat and smoke and age... yeah, I think it's time to retire it. But... my inspiration chimed in and said... "hey, you know... you could just... order some blank shirts off that place you got that fabric paint from... And get some fabric for wall hangings too, while you're at it... and get that delivered to the building. Then you can just make your own shirts. And you can make fabric art for like... display, too. Like tapestries and shit." And... it's not a half-bad idea.

But this reflex comes out and intercepts. Guess which one? The money one. Of course. In a very smart and practical tone of voice, too. And it says "hey bud, that's cool and all but... are you really going to invest more money into a project like this when you already have... how many open projects?"

And I struggle to maintain a balance there. In my experience, I make my best work when I follow whatever I'm inspired to work on. Even if that means a project lays dormant for years at a time. Even if that means some projects get started and never get finished. I feel like that's just sorta... the nature of the beast. This isn't like cooking or something, where once you start cooking something you kinda have to finish cooking it... or building a house, or something? I don't know. Like... let's take a piece I did last winter. It's a piece of cardboard, probably 5 inches by 12 inches, I painted a black border around it, a green and yellow organic pattern as a background and big all-caps lettering "BE HERE NOW" on it in gold ink. And it sat on my tables and cabinets and shit for months. And I took the opportunity, when I was sealing the yellow beads, to finally add a coat of Mod Podge to it to seal it and call it "finished". Is it actually "finished"? Fuck no! I could add edges to it to camouflage that it's made of cardboard. I could just use pushpins to mount it on the wall. I could mount it with cardstock and set it in a picture frame and hang it on my wall. There's tons of shit I could still do with it, even with the final coat on it. All work is a work in progress. Or, better put by one of my mentors, gone well before his time: "Art is never finished, only stopped."

So... maybe I should be a little gentler on myself, and give myself some leeway. I'm just... it's the money part. It's fucking money, I swear, every time. Every goddamn creative problem I have comes back to it. Ugh. Oh well. I'll think that over tomorrow. It's probably not as expensive as I think it is.

Birds are starting to chirp and... god this is so weird to say, I guess I'll get used to it in time... it smells different in here. XD I think the flowers closed up. Maybe it's in my head and I'm just used to the smell, I don't know... Either way, it's getting late, so.... tarot time!

First Position - Past - IV: The Emperor (A powerful, dominant, strategic and protective figure of great influence and reach.  Symbolically, important changes, a shift in power, new responsibilities or authority. Adjacently symbolizes stability.) Second Position - Present - Ace of Wands, inverted (Inspiration, creativity, fresh ideas.  The seed of confidence you need to embark on a new creative journey.) Third Position - Future - Ace of Cups (A new relationship and the accompanying surge of emotions.  Getting in touch with your feelings.  Matters of the heart.  A deepening bond.)

Alright... here we go. So... this thread sources from either a strong male figure, myself as a strong male figure, or the concepts that come along with that. Stability, growth, expansion, protection. I was putting this card description into my Google Doc notes because this was the first time I've drawn it and... I have a section in there for "Personal Association/Memory", to help me learn the cards at a very personal level and... I was drawing a blank. I really haven't had many... I would venture to even say any figures like that in my life. And because of that... I kinda took on that role myself. And set it as a goal for myself. To be a good role model, and... maybe someday... a good father. It was a very "goes without saying" goal of mine my entire adult life... until very recently. I guess since I crossed the 35 year mark. And I started trying to ground myself in the reality that I... may go to my grave never being a father. And that's okay, I guess. I was a father for my pets, and I was a really good dad for them, at least towards the end once I got my shit together. So... I guess... this card might be referring to... my inner Dad. The part of myself that keeps me safe, keeps me secure, keeps me protected and stable and responsible. That's my theory on this.

That Emperor symbol from the Past is connected to... an inverted Ace of Wands. Aces are the beginnings of the journey of that element, and Wands is creativity/creation. And the second I drew that card, I chuckled, because I spent pretty much this entire journal entry (and last one) talking about creative block and a lack of inspiration. Or, at least, dysfunction with my inspiration. And the inverted Ace of Wands is the embodiment of that. So... pretty straight-forward there.

What that's connected to, as an outcome in the Future... is the Ace of Cups. We got this a few days ago. The Ace of Cups is the start down the journey of emotions, perhaps social connection. It's that giant surge of emotions you get on a first date. At least, that's how I've been reading the card; as a giant outburst or influx of emotions. In that context, this narrative makes sense to me.

How I'm reading this... is that I have a protective figure inside me... maybe it's the budget guy? The "will it sell" guy? The "will you ever make enough to pay rent" guy? Who is trying to keep me safe in a very practical, fatherly way. He's looking out for me. "Don't just go buying t-shirts and cloth and stuff, you have projects to work on already, just write it down and come back to it, we're on a budget right now." That inner fatherly voice, keeping my creative self in check from impulsively ordering. But this practical Emperor... can cause disruptions with my inspiration. I mean, I was literally complaining about it this entire post! "hey bud, that's cool and all but... are you really going to invest more money into a project like this when you already have... how many open projects?" I fucking quoted it! And that's literally snuffing out an inspiration spark before it has a chance to take root, because it's not in the budget. It's not finding a way to make it work, it's not figuring out what work I can do on that project with what I have on hand... it's just diverting my attention away from my inspiration and back over to my other projects. Which obviously puts my inspiration and creative project into disarray. And the result of this? If it goes unchecked? Well... that's the part I've been trying to understand, because... I kinda got the vibe from Ace of Cups that it was a "positive" card... like a "welcome to a new relationship" kinda card... but... in this context, it really doesn't feel that way. It feels like it's a giant surge of emotion, and me submitting to that emotion, or being powerless to it. Not necessarily being out of control or in disorder from it, but being consumed by it. And that would probably be... anxiety? Depression? Frustration? I guess.

I'm a bit shaky on the last bit, because... again... if that Ace of Cups was inverted it would make perfect sense to me. But... I mean... given the context of the other cards... I just don't really see any big primal outpouring of emotions coming from an inverted Ace of Wands being... good emotions...

So... my inner Father is being a bit too tough on me and is stifling my creativity... and I need to regulate and tweak the way I do that a bit or... I could be headed to a big emotional surge that isn't necessarily a good one. That makes sense to me.

Alright, it's late. Well... early. Whatever. I'm heading to bed.

[amzproducts]

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[emmythespacecowgirl]

Perfect!! Can I please request a male ship from The Pacific? <3 Thank you so much my love!! I couldn’t find your ship guidelines since you recently changed your blog url so I followed an outline from a previous blog who you sent a ship for! If I am missing any more info for the guidelines let me know and I will re-submit!

– your gender/pronouns: female she/her – your sexuality/gender preference: i’m bi but i have never openly dated a woman before! for gender preference: male, since we know so much about the male characters in the pacific anyway! – your main flaws and most defining traits: my whole life i’ve dealt with emotional dysregulation, depression/social anxiety, identity disturbance, school and keeping up with my loved ones. I also procrastinate too much, I don't have my drivers license LOL. I have ADHD and there’s a possibility that I could also have borderline personality disorder cos of childhood trauma and the things listed above. People know me for being kind, funny, sarcastic, creative in the visual arts and hardworking cos of my part-time job and i’m nearly graduating college in april [crosses fingers] and i want to be a commercial model with a bit of runway as well as getting into figure skating and ballet.– your hobbies and pastimes: grunge aesthetics, photography, I love fashion from the 40s’-now, but wearing fashion that is trending rn i prefer the 90s and a bit of y2k but that’s lowkey fading from my closet. I love to draw/paint, watch tv/film and youtube, play minecraft, daydream, write stories and read books and fanfic, listen to many genres of music mostly metalcore/punk or indie rock, 90s/00’s and today’s r&b, lofi etc. i can also speak a bit of french, tagalog/cebuano and brazilian portuguese. I would love to learn ASL one day.

– your appearance: between 5’6’’-5’7’’! I am Filipina so I have tanned fair skin. I have natural jet black-hair but my hair was bleached red at the end of the summer - it’s fading so it looks more copper. I have what they call an 'inverted triangle shape' so my body is kind of weird: skinny chicken legs with a bulky man-like torso?? I wear glasses but i wear contacts because i often wear a lot of 90s glam makeup or Euphoria-inspired makeup (graphic liner, glitter, rhinestones/Maddy perez or Jules Vaughn makeup sometimes)

– your personality type one quiz i took told me i was ENTP due to my creativity and another told me i’m INFP-T cos of my concern for my personal growth and cos i am stressed af (lol love quizzes calling me out)

– any pet peeves: pretentious people, mouth noises/chewing or kisses noises (misophonia triggers), people who say the word “pree-sent” and not “present” (like ‘present a class project’), too many tabs on a desktop, when people talk to me too much and i can’t keep up with them, ppl interrupting me

– your love language: gifts, words of affirmation and physical touch!

– your zodiac sign (or big three): Leo Sun, Taurus Moon and Cancer Rising!

– your Hogwarts house: Ravenclaw!

– your insecurities: socially, mentally and emotionally being behind on everything. Physically, I have body image issues cos of my body shape. I also hate my face shape and my nose?? A lot of people hate their noises. Also I hate being insecure about my height. I wish to be the ideal height for runway.

hey mk!! wow congrats on almost being done with college :)) that's super exciting!

I ship you with:

Bob Leckie from The Pacific!

ship theme song: I Could Make You Care - Frank Sinatra and the Tommy Dorsey Orchestra

wow

this man is completely smitten

like, i'm talking Love At First Sight

he sees you a couple days after he arrives back home from overseas

and since this is Leckie

you bet your ass that he's gonna go straight up to you and ask for your number

he's very excited for you to graduate college!!

he'll look over any english paper that you want him to

he'll even let you borrow his typewriter

the first time you speak French or Portuguese in front of him

his mind is totally blown

he thinks it's the most beautiful thing he's ever heard

Leckie is a very wordy, encyclopedia bitch kinda person

so he can definitely provide you with words of affirmation

Leckie comes with his own brand of emotional baggage

between his cold, distant relationship with his own parents

and seeing nearly all of his friends get injured in the war

he needs some time to find himself again

and he wants to do that with you by his side <3

as long as you provide him with consistency and a safe listening ear

he's yours for life

in return, he tries to get you to put into writing the things that you might find difficult to tell your loved ones and friends

he has plenty of books to choose from if you're in need of some bibliotherapy

he thinks you're incredibly beautiful

and different from the other girls he grew up with

and he loves that

he takes time every day to remind of how pretty you are

he'll just watch you in the mornings

he loves to observe you picking out just the right outfit to wear

and he's so intrigued by how effortlessly you apply your makeup

I think Leckie is either an ENFP or INFP

but either way, a pairing with an INFP or ENTP is very complimentary

Leckie definitely understands your need for focus and concentration

he's the same way when it comes to assignments and getting work done

he's not a big fan of people interrupting him

so he'll always call or text to make sure that you're not busy before coming over

I would bet that this lad is a pretty good gift giver too

he's naturally observant

so Leck probably gets you a new pair of ice skates

or a new record by one of your favorite bands for your birthday

if you get him anything having to do with writing

this boy will melt like chocolate

he offers to teach you how to drive

Leckie definitely gives me Ravenclaw vibes

but honestly: this man thinks the Sun rises and sets at your feet

and he makes it his missions to help you recognize just how beautiful and perfect you are

he will never let you forget that <3

[starseedfxofficial]

AUD/JPY: Mastering Volatility in the World's Wildest Currency Pair The Unexpected Playbook: Turn Market Volatility Into Your Secret Weapon Imagine strapping yourself into a roller coaster, the kind with stomach-churning drops and neck-breaking turns—that pretty much sums up trading the Australian Dollar (AUD) against the Japanese Yen (JPY) in today's volatile market. Yet, unlike that theme park thrill, this ride has the potential to earn you money. If you've ever looked at the AUD/JPY and thought, "Why does this pair move so erratically?" you're not alone. Here’s a comprehensive guide on how to not just survive, but actually thrive, in the volatile landscape of this currency pair. But before we get into the deep stuff, let’s kick it off with a story. I remember one of my early trades in AUD/JPY—it was like buying a lottery ticket on a stormy day. I thought I was a genius, until the market laughed at me and spun in the opposite direction. It was the trading equivalent of buying a pair of shoes on sale that I thought looked great, only to realize they were two sizes too big. So, I buckled down, studied, learned some ninja tactics, and today, I'm here to help you navigate the AUD/JPY chaos like a seasoned thrill-seeker. 1. Volatility Doesn't Mean Randomness: Learn the Hidden Patterns Many traders look at the AUD/JPY pair and conclude that its movements are simply too unpredictable. True, AUD/JPY tends to have a high volatility level, but guess what? Volatility doesn’t mean chaos; it often means opportunity if you know what you're looking for. One secret sauce that veteran traders use involves recognizing the underlying drivers—and it's not all about interest rates or economic reports. The real magic often lies in the market sentiment driven by broader global risk appetite. AUD/JPY is what we call a risk-sensitive currency pair. It's influenced by how adventurous (or cautious) global investors are feeling. When there's a 'risk-on' vibe in the air (people are feeling positive about growth, profits, and the world in general), the Australian Dollar surges like a surfing kangaroo—and no, that’s not as unrealistic as it sounds when you see the charts. But if there's a 'risk-off' mood—where investors prefer safety—the Japanese Yen flexes its muscle, reminding everyone why it's known as a safe-haven currency. But here’s where it gets interesting: Emerging from this volatility are opportunities to catch impressive gains. Remember this—if you can master timing your entries and exits with a focus on global risk trends, you’re already ahead of many traders who blindly jump in without understanding the fundamental drivers. 2. Using Correlation as Your Sneaky Trading Edge Here’s a little-known trick that you won’t find in most beginner's guides: pay attention to the correlations between AUD/JPY and commodities like copper or gold. Australia’s economy relies heavily on exports, especially to China. When commodity prices, particularly copper and iron ore, are skyrocketing, AUD tends to rise in value. Conversely, Japan imports these commodities, so the relationship with AUD becomes even more fascinating. In a volatile market, understanding these correlations can provide a crucial edge. For instance, during heightened geopolitical tensions or economic uncertainty, commodities might take a hit, dragging AUD down with them. Keeping an eye on global commodity trends provides a sneak peek into potential movements in AUD/JPY. 3. The Forgotten Impact of Central Bank Policies Okay, so let’s talk about central banks for a second, but don’t worry, I’ll keep this entertaining. Think of the Reserve Bank of Australia (RBA) and the Bank of Japan (BoJ) as two chefs making drastically different dishes in the kitchen. The RBA often seasons with a bit of spice—preferring economic growth—while the BoJ uses mild, safety-first ingredients, frequently deploying tactics like negative interest rates to keep the economy stable. The result? A divergence in their policies that makes AUD/JPY a prime target for trend trading—particularly in volatile times. While the BoJ aims for tranquility, the RBA sometimes fans the flames of speculation, especially if commodities are booming. Understanding these policy moves can help predict price action—and knowing when the chefs are about to change their recipes? Well, that’s where you get the real upper hand. 4. Myth-Busting: Stop Chasing the Perfect Entry Many traders obsess over finding the "perfect" entry. They want the absolute lowest price when buying and the peak price when selling. Well, here's a reality check: trying to time a market as unpredictable as AUD/JPY is like trying to predict which way a cat will jump—it’s impossible and you'll end up scratched (figuratively and financially). Instead, adopt a layered entry strategy. Break your total trade size into three parts and enter in phases. The beauty of trading AUD/JPY lies in its volatility, meaning there are multiple opportunities in a day to take advantage of swings. You’re less likely to be caught flat-footed and more likely to capitalize on those unexpected plot twists. 5. Embracing Technical Indicators, But Not Blindly Let’s have a quick chat about Bollinger Bands. Yes, they are popular, but do you know how effective they can be for AUD/JPY during periods of extreme market swings? The price of AUD/JPY loves bouncing between those bands like a toddler on a trampoline. When the market is volatile, the Bollinger Bands expand. This means the pair is ready for a ride, and you can capitalize on these movements. Combine Bollinger Bands with stochastic oscillators, and you’ve got a strategy that’s akin to finding hidden treasure—predicting when the pair is overstretched and primed to reverse. Remember, indicators should support your strategy, not dictate it. 6. Protecting Your Hard-Earned Capital: Risk Management Is Key Finally, a word about risk management—because if I’m going to throw in jokes and humor, I’d better also throw in a healthy dose of caution. AUD/JPY is volatile, and that means risk can escalate quickly. Using a stop-loss strategy is not just prudent; it’s mandatory. Imagine going skydiving without a parachute. Trading AUD/JPY without a risk management plan is like just that—with none of the excitement, and all of the freefall. Trail your stops if you’re in profit, always manage your exposure, and respect the volatility rather than trying to tame it. Conclusion: Ride the Chaos, Don’t Fear It The AUD/JPY pair is volatile, but if you understand the underlying drivers—global risk sentiment, commodity correlations, and central bank policies—you can embrace the ride instead of fearing it. Use unconventional strategies, like phased entries and the powerful combination of Bollinger Bands with stochastic oscillators, to your advantage. And, most importantly, respect the volatility. It’s what makes AUD/JPY thrilling, yes, but it’s also what can make or break you. Embrace the madness, plan your trades, and trade your plan. If you're looking for more ninja-level tactics, consider our resources—they’re filled with advanced insights to help you navigate the wild world of Forex trading. —————– Image Credits: Cover image at the top is AI-generated Read the full article