#medieval finance

[racefortheironthrone]

If the King/Queen of Westeros decided to implement a national bank of Westeros, how would they navigate relationships with the Iron Bank and any perceived competition? Thinking of the same way that the Rogare Bank might have fallen to Faceless Man assassinations?

I would personally recommend a more cooperative policy, because there are definite ways that a Westerosi central bank could be of benefit to the Iron Bank - especially since central banks don't tend to compete with merchant or commercial banks for the same kind of business.

To begin with, the existence of a central bank acting as lender of last resort to Westerosi moneylenders and merchants is going to be good for the Iron Bank's business in Westeros, because that's going to massively reduce the risk of default, which would mean the Iron Bank's loans would see a higher rate of return even at lower interest rates, and likely would lead to an increased volume of business, as more people would be able to afford to take out loans from the Iron Bank.

If the Westerosi central bank is anything like the central banks of Early Modern Europe, it might be quite possible that the Iron Bank would become a minority shareholder in the Westerosi central bank, and quite likely would be one of the central bank's major customers when it comes to the sale of royal bonds - if only because the existence of a central bank would make Westerosi public debt a much sounder investment than under the medieval model.

[upennmanuscripts]

Ms. Codex 849, written in France ca. 1522, is a small book containing recommendations for Francis I concerning the payment and collection of taxes. It's written in a clear humanist script with delightful gold initials alternating red and blue decoration.

🔗:

[mostlysignssomeportents]

Why the Fed wants to crush workers

The US Federal Reserve has two imperatives: keeping employment high and inflation low. But when these come into conflict — when unemployment falls to near-zero — the Fed forgets all about full employment and cranks up interest rates to “cool the economy” (that is, “to destroy jobs and increase unemployment”).

An economy “cools down” when workers have less money, which means that the prices offered for goods and services go down, as fewer workers have less money to spend. As with every macroeconomic policy, raising interest rates has “distributional effects,” which is economist-speak for “winners and losers.”

Predicting who wins and who loses when interest rates go up requires that we understand the economic relations between different kinds of rich people, as well as relations between rich people and working people. Writing today for The American Prospect’s superb Great Inflation Myths series, Gerald Epstein and Aaron Medlin break it down:

https://prospect.org/economy/2023-01-19-inflation-federal-reserve-protects-one-percent/

Recall that the Fed has two priorities: full employment and low interest rates. But when it weighs these priorities, it does so through “finance colored” glasses: as an institution, the Fed requires help from banks to carry out its policies, while Fed employees rely on those banks for cushy, high-paid jobs when they rotate out of public service.

Inflation is bad for banks, whose fortunes rise and fall based on the value of the interest payments they collect from debtors. When the value of the dollar declines, lenders lose and borrowers win. Think of it this way: say you borrow $10,000 to buy a car, at a moment when $10k is two months’ wages for the average US worker. Then inflation hits: prices go up, workers demand higher pay to keep pace, and a couple years later, $10k is one month’s wages.

If your wages kept pace with inflation, you’re now getting twice as many dollars as you were when you took out the loan. Don’t get too excited: these dollars buy the same quantity of goods as your pre-inflation salary. However, the share of your income that’s eaten by that monthly car-loan payment has been cut in half. You just got a real-terms 50% discount on your car loan!

Inflation is great news for borrowers, bad news for lenders, and any given financial institution is more likely to be a lender than a borrower. The finance sector is the creditor sector, and the Fed is institutionally and personally loyal to the finance sector. When creditors and debtors have opposing interests, the Fed helps creditors win.

The US is a debtor nation. Not the national debt — federal debt and deficits are just scorekeeping. The US government spends money into existence and taxes it out of existence, every single day. If the USG has a deficit, that means it spent more than than it taxed, which is another way of saying that it left more dollars in the economy this year than it took out of it. If the US runs a “balanced budget,” then every dollar that was created this year was matched by another dollar that was annihilated. If the US runs a “surplus,” then there are fewer dollars left for us to use than there were at the start of the year.

The US debt that matters isn’t the federal debt, it’s the private sector’s debt. Your debt and mine. We are a debtor nation. Half of Americans have less than $400 in the bank.

https://www.fool.com/the-ascent/personal-finance/articles/49-of-americans-couldnt-cover-a-400-emergency-expense-today-up-from-32-in-november/

Most Americans have little to no retirement savings. Decades of wage stagnation has left Americans with less buying power, and the economy has been running on consumer debt for a generation. Meanwhile, working Americans have been burdened with forms of inflation the Fed doesn’t give a shit about, like skyrocketing costs for housing and higher education.

When politicians jawbone about “inflation,” they’re talking about the inflation that matters to creditors. Debtors — the bottom 90% — have been burdened with three decades’ worth of steadily mounting inflation that no one talks about. Yesterday, the Prospect ran Nancy Folbre’s outstanding piece on “care inflation” — the skyrocketing costs of day-care, nursing homes, eldercare, etc:

https://prospect.org/economy/2023-01-18-inflation-unfair-costs-of-care/

As Folbre wrote, these costs are doubly burdensome, because they fall on family members (almost entirely women), who have to sacrifice their own earning potential to care for children, or aging people, or disabled family members. The cost of care has increased every year since 1997:

https://pluralistic.net/2023/01/18/wages-for-housework/#low-wage-workers-vs-poor-consumers

So while politicians and economists talk about rescuing “savers” from having their nest-eggs whittled away by inflation, these savers represent a minuscule and dwindling proportion of the public. The real beneficiaries of interest rate hikes isn’t savers, it’s lenders.

Full employment is bad for the wealthy. When everyone has a job, wages go up, because bosses can’t threaten workers with “exile to the reserve army of the unemployed.” If workers are afraid of ending up jobless and homeless, then executives seeking to increase their own firms’ profits can shift money from workers to shareholders without their workers quitting (and if the workers do quit, there are plenty more desperate for their jobs).

What’s more, those same executives own huge portfolios of “financialized” assets — that is, they own claims on the interest payments that borrowers in the economy pay to creditors.

The purpose of raising interest rates is to “cool the economy,” a euphemism for increasing unemployment and reducing wages. Fighting inflation helps creditors and hurts debtors. The same people who benefit from increased unemployment also benefit from low inflation.

Thus: “the current Fed policy of rapidly raising interest rates to fight inflation by throwing people out of work serves as a wealth protection device for the top one percent.”

Now, it’s also true that high interest rates tend to tank the stock market, and rich people also own a lot of stock. This is where it’s important to draw distinctions within the capital class: the merely rich do things for a living (and thus care about companies’ productive capacity), while the super-rich own things for a living, and care about debt service.

Epstein and Medlin are economists at UMass Amherst, and they built a model that looks at the distributional outcomes (that is, the winners and losers) from interest rate hikes, using data from 40 years’ worth of Fed rate hikes:

https://peri.umass.edu/images/Medlin_Epstein_PERI_inflation_conf_WP.pdf

They concluded that “The net impact of the Fed’s restrictive monetary policy on the wealth of the top one percent depends on the timing and balance of [lower inflation and higher interest]. It turns out that in recent decades the outcome has, on balance, worked out quite well for the wealthy.”

How well? “Without intervention by the Fed, a 6 percent acceleration of inflation would erode their wealth by around 30 percent in real terms after three years…when the Fed intervenes with an aggressive tightening, the 1%’s wealth only declines about 16 percent after three years. That is a 14 percent net gain in real terms.”

This is why you see a split between the one-percenters and the ten-percenters in whether the Fed should continue to jack interest rates up. For the 1%, inflation hikes produce massive, long term gains. For the 10%, those gains are smaller and take longer to materialize.

Meanwhile, when there is mass unemployment, both groups benefit from lower wages and are happy to keep interest rates at zero, a rate that (in the absence of a wealth tax) creates massive asset bubbles that drive up the value of houses, stocks and other things that rich people own lots more of than everyone else.

This explains a lot about the current enthusiasm for high interest rates, despite high interest rates’ ability to cause inflation, as Joseph Stiglitz and Ira Regmi wrote in their recent Roosevelt Institute paper:

https://rooseveltinstitute.org/wp-content/uploads/2022/12/RI_CausesofandResponsestoTodaysInflation_Report_202212.pdf

The two esteemed economists compared interest rate hikes to medieval bloodletting, where “doctors” did “more of the same when their therapy failed until the patient either had a miraculous recovery (for which the bloodletters took credit) or died (which was more likely).”

As they document, workers today aren’t recreating the dread “wage-price spiral” of the 1970s: despite low levels of unemployment, workers wages still aren’t keeping up with inflation. Inflation itself is falling, for the fairly obvious reason that covid supply-chain shocks are dwindling and substitutes for Russian gas are coming online.

Economic activity is “largely below trend,” and with healthy levels of sales in “non-traded goods” (imports), meaning that the stuff that American workers are consuming isn’t coming out of America’s pool of resources or manufactured goods, and that spending is leaving the US economy, rather than contributing to an American firm’s buying power.

Despite this, the Fed has a substantial cheering section for continued interest rates, composed of the ultra-rich and their lickspittle Renfields. While the specifics are quite modern, the underlying dynamic is as old as civilization itself.

Historian Michael Hudson specializes in the role that debt and credit played in different societies. As he’s written, ancient civilizations long ago discovered that without periodic debt cancellation, an ever larger share of a societies’ productive capacity gets diverted to the whims of a small elite of lenders, until civilization itself collapses:

https://www.nakedcapitalism.com/2022/07/michael-hudson-from-junk-economics-to-a-false-view-of-history-where-western-civilization-took-a-wrong-turn.html

Here’s how that dynamic goes: to produce things, you need inputs. Farmers need seed, fertilizer, and farm-hands to produce crops. Crucially, you need to acquire these inputs before the crops come in — which means you need to be able to buy inputs before you sell the crops. You have to borrow.

In good years, this works out fine. You borrow money, buy your inputs, produce and sell your goods, and repay the debt. But even the best-prepared producer can get a bad beat: floods, droughts, blights, pandemics…Play the game long enough and eventually you’ll find yourself unable to repay the debt.

In the next round, you go into things owing more money than you can cover, even if you have a bumper crop. You sell your crop, pay as much of the debt as you can, and go into the next season having to borrow more on top of the overhang from the last crisis. This continues over time, until you get another crisis, which you have no reserves to cover because they’ve all been eaten up paying off the last crisis. You go further into debt.

Over the long run, this dynamic produces a society of creditors whose wealth increases every year, who can make coercive claims on the productive labor of everyone else, who not only owes them money, but will owe even more as a result of doing the work that is demanded of them.

Successful ancient civilizations fought this with Jubilee: periodic festivals of debt-forgiveness, which were announced when new monarchs assumed their thrones, or after successful wars, or just whenever the creditor class was getting too powerful and threatened the crown.

Of course, creditors hated this and fought it bitterly, just as our modern one-percenters do. When rulers managed to hold them at bay, their nations prospered. But when creditors captured the state and abolished Jubilee, as happened in ancient Rome, the state collapsed:

https://pluralistic.net/2022/07/08/jubilant/#construire-des-passerelles

Are we speedrunning the collapse of Rome? It’s not for me to say, but I strongly recommend reading Margaret Coker’s in-depth Propublica investigation on how title lenders (loansharks that hit desperate, low-income borrowers with triple-digit interest loans) fired any employee who explained to a borrower that they needed to make more than the minimum payment, or they’d never pay off their debts:

https://www.propublica.org/article/inside-sales-practices-of-biggest-title-lender-in-us

[Image ID: A vintage postcard illustration of the Federal Reserve building in Washington, DC. The building is spattered with blood. In the foreground is a medieval woodcut of a physician bleeding a woman into a bowl while another woman holds a bowl to catch the blood. The physician's head has been replaced with that of Federal Reserve Chairman Jerome Powell.]

[girderednerve]

one of the fruits of once again having a job that involves a lot of slow periods in proximity to a computer is that i have had some time to click around on g*ogle scholar, which has revealed to me (to my deep embarrassment) that there is an open-access edited book about medieval coinage & currency put together by r. naismith (more or less the guy for early english coinage) that came out in 2018 (!!!), which was sort of my blank year for paying attention to this stuff. anyway if anyone else is interested in medieval currency & coinage, check it outtttt (& then talk to me!)

[kc22invesmentsblog]

Tracing the Origins of Checking Accounts: Ancient Rome's Influence

Written by Delvin Modern banking services have evolved significantly over the centuries, and one such innovation that has stood the test of time is the checking account. Surprisingly, the roots of this financial concept can be traced back to ancient Rome. In this blog post, we will delve into the fascinating history of checking accounts, exploring their origins in ancient Rome and how they have…

[juliettecousin]

🇫🇷/ Oyez Oyez braves gens !

Le financement participatif de MEDIEVAL GIRLFRIENDS commence dans 1 semaine !!

Rendez vous sur le site des éditions Exemplaire du 23 OCTOBRE AU 23 NOVEMBRE pour soutenir le projet! Il y aura pleins de chouettes contreparties pour les participants, accessible pour toutes les bourses.

À très vite 🌟

🇬🇧/ The crowfunding for my upcoming comic MEDIEVAL GIRLFRIENDS starts in 1 week !!

Be sure to check the website of Exemplaire editions from OCTOBER 23 TO NOVEMBER 23 to support this project !

There will be a lot a merch available for the participants, on a large range of prices !

Though it will be publish with a French edition, this will be a silent comic with no dialogue, which make it accessible to the english audience as well !

More infos to come 🌟

[trippedandfell]

Cole please don’t tell me you’re a business major :(

i… can neither confirm or deny

[dream-world-universe]

Florence, Italy: Florence is the capital city of the Italian region of Tuscany. It is also the most populated city in Tuscany. Florence was a centre of medieval European trade and finance and one of the wealthiest cities of that era. The city attracts millions of tourists each year, and UNESCO declared the Historic Centre of Florence a World Heritage Site in 1982. The city is noted for its culture, Renaissance art and architecture and monuments. Wikipedia

[cooliestghouliest]

pairing: Eddie Munson x Reader

plot summary: It’s Eddie’s birthday! He said no presents but you said fuck that. He’s getting two.

word count: 4k+

cw: 18+ ONLY, MINORS DNI; this is smut; porn with plot; Eddie being mean to Gareth; handjobs and blowjobs and Gareth unknowingly being a bystander of both; there’s some cum stuff in here, too.

notes: set in early 1990s. reader and Eddie are both in early/mid 20s. let’s pretend the PlayStation had co-op online gaming so this story makes sense. a part two may be in store. let me know what you think. 😈

Working overtime at The Hideout was not something you necessarily wanted to do, but with Eddie’s birthday coming up, it was something you had to do.

As much as you would have liked them to, bills wouldn’t simply pause just because you wanted to save money to buy Eddie a PlayStation. No, you had to use your math-inept brain to start budgeting, getting some help from Steve, who’d just recently been hired to work at a local accounting firm.

While you were hoping Steve would magically find money hidden somewhere in your finances, you were annoyed but not surprised at his only solution:

“You need to pick up more shifts.”

You and Eddie had moved into an apartment just outside of Hawkins after Eddie had finally graduated, you having helped him through that dreaded English class so you could both walk the stage together. That had been three years ago now. Money was tight, sure, but the two of you never went without the essentials. There was always dinner to be had, clothes to be worn, cable to be watched.

Between you bartending and trying to get a degree part-time, and Eddie dealing and working at the auto shop part-time, you both managed to make just enough to stay afloat.

Sometimes Eddie would score a few hundred playing a gig with Corroded Coffin, and he’d use that to wine and dine you like the fancy little lady you were. His words, not yours. You knew Eddie liked to spoil you. You knew he hated he couldn’t do it more.

Many stoned late night conversations had been had between the two of you where he fantasized aloud about taking you country to country once the band made it big, fucking you in soft, plush, expensive hotel beds, and spoon feeding you gelato while watching the sunset on a balcony, your bodies wrapped in silk, name-embroidered robes.

Eddie was a total lush at heart. The most broke rich man you’d ever met. You assumed this was because he came from virtually nothing. You didn’t need everything he wanted to give you, but he made it clear on more than one occasion that once money wasn’t a barrier, he would treat you like a queen.

You felt like he already did.

This is why you sucked up the hatred you had for The Hideout and told Roy, your boss, you’d work whatever shifts he could give you for the next few weeks. You endured handfuls of handsy truck drivers, pretended to flirtatiously banter with beyond drunk bikers, and held back the powerful urge to gag while stroking the egos of middle aged business men who chose to go through their midlife crisis in a seedy, dimly lit bar.

Seeing the look on Eddie’s face when you slid the wrapped package across the small dining table in your kitchen made all of the extra hours of rum pouring and forced salacious smiles worth it.

He had been mid-sentence, talking about a client at the auto shop who he’d spent an hour after hours with, the guy telling him all about medieval torture devices. This didn’t surprise you. Eddie’s fascination with the macabre was one of the things that had drawn the two of you together in the first place.

The first time you’d officially met was in English class your junior year, his third senior year. You’d told him you lived in a funeral home because your dad was a generational mortician, and that one day you’d probably own and operate it once your father retired. You also told him your mom was a self-proclaimed psychic who held seances for family members of the dead following their services. Eddie open-mouth stared at you for at least an entire minute in silence before telling you that was the creepiest fucking thing he’d ever heard, and that he would never feel fulfilled in life until you invited him over so he could experience it all firsthand. 

The rest is history.

“What is this?” Eddie asked, brown eyes wide as he observed the gift in front of him.

“I know we said no presents this year so we can save for the new car, but... you know how I had all those late night study groups I had to go to this semester?”

He nodded, long fingers toying with the black parchment wrapping paper.

“Weeeeeell, actually, I was working overtime at The Hideout,” you admitted, pulling your bottom lip into your mouth. You knew he wasn’t going to be happy to hear you hadn’t been honest this past month, but you figured once he saw what you’d bought him (and what you’d had planned for the rest of the night), maybe he’d decide to let bygones be bygones. Not likely, as Eddie thoroughly enjoyed teaching you lessons as punishment for bad behavior, and you figured lying for weeks on end about attending study groups qualified as pretty bad behavior. You rushed out the next few sentences, smiling innocently and tilting your head to try and appear as cute as you possibly could, “It was so I could buy you that. For your birthday. Happy birthday, Eddie. Love you.”

Eddie’s brows lifted toward his hairline at your admittance, slow blinking a few times as your confession set in.

“We are definitely going to revisit all that at a later point,” Eddie warned, a ringed finger pointing at you. “Because that is so not okay. But -- ” he couldn’t help the excited, boyish grin that enveloped his features. “I really wanna open this and see what it is.”

You giggled in excitement at his eagerness, drumming your fingers on the table. “Okay, come on! Open it!” You would enjoy these few hours of spoiling him as he so frequently spoiled you, and you’d worry about whatever punishment he’d dole out when it came later.

And right now, the look of elation on his face as he unwrapped the PlayStation was worth however many studded belt spankings or denied orgasms you had in your near future.

��Fuck! Baby! No way!” he practically squealed, jumping up from the chair. It fell to the ground behind him with a clatter, but he paid no mind. He held the gaming console above him in awe. “You’re fucking kidding!”

“No, no kidding,” you answered, even though you knew his words were rhetorical. You could feel your cheeks growing sore with the smile stretched across your face, basking in his reaction. “There’s a real PlayStation in there, I swear.”

He laughed and protectively cradled the console under his arm, hurrying to you to slam his lips against yours in a kiss. No tongue, but plenty of fervor. “God, I fucking love you,” he muttered, placing small kisses on your nose and cheeks. “I mean, I’d fucking love you even if you got me nothing, or just, like, socks or something, but, shit, baby, this is -- I have to call Gareth! We can play King’s Field together now!”

A laugh bubbled out of your lips at his sudden change in direction, knowing Eddie was always at the whim of his impulses. You watched as he ran off to the living room to make the call. You knew Gareth would be waiting for it, as you’d told him to make sure he didn’t have plans on Eddie’s birthday, so the two of them could spend it playing the multiplayer game together late into the night.

It was all part of your grander birthday plan.

You waited until you heard Eddie’s voice rambling off to Gareth in the living room, the sounds of him unboxing the console to start to hook it up mingled into his conversation, before you disappeared into your bedroom to change.

Phase one, complete, success. Phase two, final phase, commence.

𖤐 ֪ 𖤐 ֪ 𖤐

It was about twenty minutes later when you reemerged from the bedroom, wearing nothing but a newly bought matching blood red bra and panty set. It was solid colored with black lace outlining the rim of both pieces, flattering against your skin tone.

Eddie was sitting on the edge of the La-Z-Boy, headset mussing down his wild curls, talking animatedly to Gareth about the skeletons they were currently fighting on the screen.

“No, no! Go left, go left! God damnit, Gareth, do you know what your left is?!”

Eddie was loud and mouthy enough as it is, but add in a game where he had the ability to lose and the whole apartment complex would be banging on their door come tomorrow morning with noise complaints. Hell hath no fury like a twenty-something man’s confidence in his pretend battling skills.

While some might find it annoying, you found Eddie’s unbridled passion for everything he was interested in endearing. He was someone who let himself be totally engulfed by the plot of a movie or a game or a story, attaching himself to the characters and their the ups and downs as if they were tangible and could be found in his own everyday life.

You were happy for his distraction as it gave you time to compose yourself and slowly stalk your way to the center of the living room, where the chair sat directly across from the TV.

By the time you made your way to the side of the La-Z-Boy, finally coming into Eddie’s peripheral vision, he was still berating Gareth for his poor sense of direction.

“I mean, what the hell, Gare, we learned our lefts and rights in, like -- oh, fuck.”

You’d brought you hand out to trail down the exposed skin of Eddie’s arm, watching it goosebump in your wake. He’d taken his shirt off at some point, much to your appreciation. Eddie’s attention was fully on you now, as was evident from his failed completed sentence to Gareth, who you could now hear through Eddie’s headset going, “Oh, fuck? What? What, oh fuck? You don’t even know how to talk, Munson.”

But Gareth went unheard by Eddie, who’s eyes were drinking in the sight of you in your lingerie set. His tongue darted out to lick at his lower lip, which he then pulled into his mouth to sink his top teeth into.

You offered him a playful smile, watching as his neck began to turn red, the color almost a perfect match for the satin set you had on.

Without a word, you dropped to your knees on the carpet in front of him, sitting between his legs.

“What -- what are you doing?” he managed to choke out.

Gareth’s voice through the headset: “What? Dude, I’m fucking going left like you told me to!”

“Shut up, Gareth,” Eddie warned, his brown eyes now full of fire for the sight before him.

He brought one hand to cover the mouthpiece of his headset, the other placing the controller on his lap to reach out and cradle your face. You leaned into it.

“What are you doing, baby?” Eddie asked again, but he knew. Especially from the wicked grin you were giving him now.

“Just play your game, Eddie,” you whispered, careful to be quiet so Gareth didn’t hear. You moved your head to rest your cheek on his thigh, staring up at him with big doe eyes as you brought the fingers of one hand to lightly trace the line of his zipper. “And don’t get caught. We don’t want Gareth to know what a bad girl I’m being, playing with your cock while you play with him.”

His breath caught in his throat. He couldn’t believe it.

Not only had you gotten him exactly what he’d been wanting since it came out that prior winter, but now you were going to suck him off while he played it?

Jesus, how did he get so lucky?

“You are a fucking minx,” Eddie said, voice stern but his face lighting up in satisfaction as he readjusted himself on the chair, spreading his legs a bit wider.

He dropped the hand from the headset and picked the controller back up again just as Gareth was saying, “Eddie, man, are you still there? Your character’s been standing in the same place for, like, five minutes.”

𖤐 ֪ 𖤐 ֪ 𖤐

Sucking dick was not only one of your favorite things to do, but it was one of the things you were best at.

You prided yourself on how quickly you could work Eddie into a panting frenzy, how easy it was for him to lose control in your mouth, thrusting his hips to force you to take what you could and to choke back the rest.

But tonight you were taking it slow. Slow and sloppy. And you weren’t letting him do any of the work.

You’d only pulled his cock from his jeans, leaving his balls in the confines of the tight denim. You’d used so much spit that the fabric of his pants was soaking through to his boxer briefs. You watched his face intently as one of your hands wrapped around the thickness of him, stroking upwards in long, drawn out movements. You could tell he was trying to jerk his hips up but was failing, as your other hand was pressed into his side, trying its hardest to keep his body weight back against the chair.

“Greedy,” you scolded, clicking your tongue to the roof of your mouth.

He smiled sheepishly, eyes meeting yours over his hands which were holding the controller against his chest. He stopped the movement of his hips even though he felt as if it physically pained him to do so.

You’d been working him with your hands and mouth for the better part of half an hour now, releasing him entirely any time he came close to coming. He’d let a whine out at one point, to which Gareth asked, “Dude, you good?” and Eddie had to scramble out in his lust addled brain an excuse as to why that type of noise had erupted from him. He didn’t even remember what he’d said to explain it away.

All Eddie wanted to do was come. He wanted to cover you in him, drench your face and chest as you’d drenched his pants and cock in your warm saliva. He kept picturing it in his head, in alarmingly graphic detail, which was making this video game very, very hard to concentrate on.

Eddie got the idea that maybe if you neared your breaking point too, he’d finally be allowed to come. His cock throbbed at the thought, a bead of precum oozing from his slit. You sucked it away. He groaned and rolled his eyes back, controller wobbling in his hand and threatening to fall to the floor.

Taking a deep breath, he steadied his grip again, pressing a few random assortments of buttons to make Gareth think he was still coherent and definitely not getting a blowjob from his girlfriend right now.

“Will you please play with yourself?” Eddie asked, trying to put forth his best pleading puppy dog eyes. This was his big plan. Get you to get yourself off so he could sneak his orgasm in there, too.

He clearly had forgotten to cover the mouthpiece because Gareth’s voice was incredulous on the other end.

“What the fuck, Munson? What do you mean? I can’t play with myself! We’re almost at the end, man! Don’t give up now!”

You couldn’t help the laugh that escaped your lips, your head falling back for a moment at the exasperation in Gareth’s voice. Gareth was none the wiser, but just so you felt better, you made a mental note to buy him something nice or bake him those cookies you knew he liked, just for being such an unknowingly good sport during all of this.

Sticking your tongue out a bit, you bit down on the fleshy muscle in your mouth before rising more on your knees, leaning closer to Eddie. With the hand that was previously pushing his hips down, you covered his mouthpiece. “Is this a game you can win?” you asked. Your hand had stopped stroking now, and your fingers were instead running light pressured circles around the head of his weeping cock.

“Wha -- what? Uh, yeah... yeah, I can win,” Eddie stumbled, attention off the game momentarily to watch your hot little mouth move. “Just... fuck up a few more skeletons...”

“Okay,” you said, hand tightening on his member again, this time sliding it down slowly, twisting as you went. He hissed, trying to lean forward to capture your mouth with his own. You backed away, falling back down to your bottom as you continued playing with him in your hand. “Then win and I’ll let you come.”

Eddie huffed, trying to thrust his hips up for more friction but was stopped by your hand reclaiming its spot on his pelvis again, pushing him back down. If he wanted, he could absolutely overpower you. He could grab your wrists and pull you up into his lap, sliding the side of your panties over with one hand before impaling you on his wanting cock. He knows you’d let him. But he likes when you get like this, thinking you’re in control. It makes it all that much better when he finally flips the script and has you teary eyed begging for him to let you come.

“Gareth, I swear to fucking god, if we don’t win this game in the next three minutes, I’m never speaking to you again.”

𖤐 ֪ 𖤐 ֪ 𖤐

It takes longer than three minutes, and it’s not because of Gareth.

Eddie keeps screwing up, pressing X when he should be pressing O; spamming the start button to bring up the game menu when you take him particularly deep into your throat; accidentally stabbing Gareth’s character with a sword instead of the skeleton because his eyes keep rolling into the back of his head with the words spilling from your filthy mouth.

It’s all, “tastes so good, Eddie,” and “can’t even fit you all in my mouth,” and “I’m dripping on the floor, want you so bad.”

Evil woman.

Evil, perfect woman.

Eddie sees a light at the end of the tunnel. Literally. In the game, the hallway he and Gareth had been running down is opening into the brightness of a lit arena. It’s the final stage. One more fucking skeleton and he can let go. He can turn this headset off and grunt and groan to his heart’s content without having to worry about Gareth thinking he’s a fucking creep.

“I’m almost there...” Eddie’s saying, and he’s kind of talking about winning the game, but is mostly talking about the orgasm he can feel tightening in his balls, swirling in his stomach, clenching in his thighs.

“Yeah, dude! We got this!”

Eddie does not want to hear Gareth’s voice right now. He wants to hear you, pretty and whiny, loving the noises you make when you make him come. He loves how much you love it. You’re not even the one coming, but you’re always right there with him, moaning about how good his warm seed feels inside you or all over you, wherever he decides to finish. You’re not picky.

Just then, Eddie jolts forward in the chair. The head of his hard length hits the back of your throat and you cough a little, sputtering as you move your head. Looking back over your shoulder at the TV screen, hand moving up and down Eddie’s slippery cock, you see the words 'YOU WIN' in radioactive green.

“Fuuuuuuck, yes!” Eddie shouts, throwing the controller in the air. He rips off the headset without saying goodbye to Gareth, dropping it to the ground as he turns his attention back to you.

He looks absolutely wrecked. Black bangs are clung to his forehead with sweat, his chest is heavy with labored breaths, his skin is tinged pink from being so worked up and then worked back down over and over for the past hour. He can’t believe he hasn’t accidentally came yet. He assumes it’s because his mind was preoccupied with the game, because now that his full attention is on you, remembering what you’re wearing, what you’re doing, and how you look so fucking good doing it, he doesn’t think he’s going to last.

“Baby, please, I wanna come,” he’s saying, bringing one hand to the back of your head, tangling it in your hair. He’s not guiding you or helping at all, doesn’t want to be in control yet, he just wants to touch you, needs to have his hands on you somehow. “I won, did you see, I won, I get to come, right? Please make me come...”

You bit back a self-satisfied look at his pleading, bringing both hands now to wrap around the length of him. It doesn’t need it, already soaking from being in your mouth, but you let a string of spit fall onto the head of his cock, making your hands glide even easier over the velvety hardness of him. You can feel him throbbing, his hips finally able to rock up into your touch.

“Are you gonna make me all messy, Eddie?” you ask, tilting your head down to look up at him with wide, faux innocent eyes.

He’s nodding, thrusts finding no rhythm, just trying to reach release. “Yeah, baby, you love it when I cover you in my come, get you all wet and sticky...”

“Uh-huh. Love when you help me clean it up, too.”

And that’s what does it.

Eddie let out a stilted moan, one that changed octaves, and he’s coming harder than he thinks he’s ever come before.

Thick ropes of white hit your cheeks, your chin, your neck, your chest.

You gasped at the contact, then let out a moan that made his toes curl into the carpet, licking your lips to catch anything that landed in tongue distance.

He watches it all. His eyes threaten to close but fuck no, he loves to see you get marked by him in the most primal of ways. Loves to watch his cock paint the prettiest portrait on you.

He brought his hand down to help you stroke him through it, wanting to feel your smaller fingers on his cock as he rode out his high.

Then he gave you what you love, helping you clean it up. He bent his head down and ran his tongue across your hot skin, scooping up as much of his release as he could. He grabbed you by the chin, pulling down until your mouth opened before spitting into your mouth, watching as you let it sit for a moment before closing your mouth and swallowing, your eyes heavy with arousal at his actions.

“Mmmm,” you sound, smiling dopily. You kissed at his lips, your hand still slowly stroking him as he softened.

He licked at your bottom lip before his tongue moved into your mouth and against yours, pulling you into his lap. You melted into his touch, becoming boneless flesh in his arms. He groaned at the feeling of your wet, clothed cunt pressed against his lower stomach. He hadn’t even touched you -- you hadn’t even touched yourself -- and yet you were still so slick for him.

That thought alone was enough to cause his cock to twitch, and he thanked the sex gods or whoever was in charge for gracing him with stamina tonight of all nights.

“Best,” kiss to your nose, “birthday,” kiss to your chin, “ever,” kiss to your lips.

You smiled against his lips, humming happily at his admission. This was exactly how you planned the night going. Surprise Eddie with a PlayStation and an explosive orgasm.

Then he just had to go and throw a curveball.

“I’ll be good to go in twenty minutes,” he conceded, fingers running featherlight down your bare back. “Then we’ll see what we’re gonna do about that lying mouth of yours.”

Damn it. The study groups. He remembered. Part of you hoped you’d sucked all the sense out of him, but apparently not.

“Mean,” you pouted.

Eddie’s eyes flashed wickedly, a lazy grin stretching across his face.

“Oh, I will be.”

[whencyclopedia]

Henry VIII of England

Henry VIII of England ruled as king from 1509 to 1547 CE. The second Tudor king after his father Henry VII of England (r. 1485-1509 CE), Henry had inherited a kingdom which enjoyed both unity and sound finances. Famous for his six wives as he searched for a male heir, the king was charismatic and domineering. In order to escape his first marriage, Henry set himself against the Pope and so began the Reformation of the Church in England whereby it broke away from Rome and the English monarch became its supreme head. A larger-than-life figure, Henry centralised government, further absorbed Wales into his kingdom, saw to the Dissolution of the Monasteries, formed the Royal Navy and built magnificent palaces such as St. James' in London. When Henry died, though, in 1547 CE, he was succeeded by his juvenile son Edward VI of England (r. 1547-1553 CE) and he left him an impoverished kingdom split over religious issues.

Henry Tudor

Henry Tudor had defeated and killed Richard III of England (r. 1483-1485 CE) at the Battle of Bosworth in August 1485 CE in the last major action of England's dynastic dispute known as the Wars of the Roses (1455-1487 CE). The House of Lancaster had finally defeated the House of York but Henry, crowned Henry VII of England in October 1485 CE, was intent on creating a brand new ruling house: the Tudors. Henry married Elizabeth of York (b. 1466 CE), daughter of Edward IV of England (r. 1461-70 & 1471-83 CE), on 18 January 1486 CE and he even combined the livery badges of York and Lancaster to create a new royal symbol: the Tudor Rose. England was about to enter the post-medieval era with a new look and a new type of monarchy.

Continue reading...

[racefortheironthrone]

Could the Iron Throne be able to issue bonds, to finance its expenses, instead of going to the Iron Bank for a loan?

A government issuing bonds is the same thing as the government taking out a loan. The main difference is that, in the case of issuing a bond, the government is spreading out its borrowing between many lenders by selling bonds on the open market to anyone who wants to buy them rather than having that loan owed to a single entity like the Iron Bank. This means that the government is less beholden to any one creditor and it's less likely that the government's creditors can use their economic leverage to affect government policy.

The second advantage of structuring government debt through bonds is that it allows the government to break its total borrowing needs into smaller, more affordable units. Very few financial institutions would have had the capital to finance the £1,200,000 that made up the government's inaugural loan at the Bank of England in 1690 - but a lot more people could afford to lend the government £10, £25, £50, or £100 pounds.

Between this and later innovations in marketing bonds to the general public, the market for government debt was massively expanded. Not only did this create a class of rentiers who were now personally invested in the government's success, but it also immediately deepened the capital markets by creating a large supply of stable assets that could be bought and sold and borrowed against. While some of the shortcomings of the Hamilton musical and Chernow's biography have become more obvious in hindsight, they're not wrong about the impact of Hamilton's policies as Treasury Secretary on the development of the American economy.

The difficulty facing the Iron Throne in adapting an early modern system of government finance is that it doesn't have the state capacity to run this kind of an operation: it doesn't have a central bank to act as the government's marketer, issuer of banknotes, and lender of last resort; it doesn't have a sinking fund to manage the level and price of debt; it hasn't issued charters to merchant's guilds or joint-stock companies that could combine the small capital of individuals and thus more easily afford to buy bonds; and it doesn't have enough literate people who've studied accounting to staff a royal bureaucracy large enough to coordinate and keep records of all of this economic activity.

[upennmanuscripts]

For this week's #CoffeeWithACodex (Thursday, March 28, 12pm Noon EST on Zoom) Curator Dot Porter will bring out Ms. Codex 19, a 14th century list of rents due to one Ithier Bonea, seignor des Brousses (France). Most of the listings of tenants are by parish, occasionally by town. Note that until the end of March, the US is only four hours ahead of the UK! Plan accordingly!

Register here:

[gavillain]

I was talking with @marciabrady the other night about ships and the aesthetics of our favorite couples, and it made me really want to do a break down of one of my obscure crossover OTPs:

Grimhilde/Cruella, a.k.a. EvilPuppies!

Because I feel like Grimhilde/Cruella, out of all my ships, looks the most like crack at first glance, but there is so much more to it than just sticking two random Disney Villains together.

So, first and foremost, I started shipping them because of Kingdom Keepers Book IV, Power Play:

Despite the fact that Frollo is on the cover of the book and was the heavily promoted new Overtaker before the release of the novel, the main villains of the novel are actually Grimhilde and Cruella. The premise is that after Maleficent and Chernabog were captured at the end of the previous book, the Disney Villains who are trying to take over the parks have had to take on new leadership to get Maleficent and Chernabog out of Imagineer-prison. Grimhilde is the next in the chain of command, so she's in charge and has Cruella De Vil as her companion who follows her everywhere. They are ALWAYS together in the book, and Cruella, naturally, has a very flirty and complimentary demeanor towards Grimhilde that the Queen naturally just adores. Their chemistry is great, and there is even one part where the main hero finds the two of them asleep together on an air mattress and a bundle of furs (it makes sense in context) and, well... yeah XD The novel really glued the two of them together in my head.

And that togetherness, as you can see above, blends over into the parks. Grimhilde and Cruella are the only two main Disney Villainesses who are out with some regularity as face characters in Disneyland. All of the villains in the Disney Parks have a familiarity with each other, and you can get similar gal pal dynamics with them and Maleficent (and Lady Tremaine) around Halloween time. However, because Grimhilde and Cruella are out together for so much of the year, they tend to carry the brunt of that sort of "evil besties" friendship, leading to cute photo op moments like this...

So Disney is already doing a lot of the leg work to make them come across as girlfriends and to give them chemistry and a ship dynamic. However, if that was all there was to it, I probably wouldn't love this ship as much as I do. I need that interesting and thought through layer of shipping, and thankfully, these two have it in spades.

So, despite being from different time periods and wildly different worlds, Grimhilde and Cruella are aristocrats through and through. Grimhilde is literally royalty, and Cruella an over-financed heiress to the remnants of England's aristocracy (and she's the head of a corporate fashion empire in the Glenn Close movies). The House of De Vil dates back to medieval times, and evidence of that extensive and wealthy history is littered all around Cruella's mansion.

Cruella is in essence, the remnants of an old world that no longer exists, one of royalty and station that Grimhilde herself was a part of, and though the times have changed, Cruella keeps that class and regality alive. In that way, I think it blends perfectly with her taking on a lover who is quite literally OF that time period, and it also helps tie Grimhilde in with the modern world, giving Grimhilde a sort of immortality and transcendence that I think she'd very much value with her desire to be eternally young and beautiful. And, along those same lines, they are both very strong examples of matriarchal authority and power with Cruella bemoaning the uselessness of men and the pitfalls of women losing themselves to marriage, whilst Grimhilde murdered her own husband in order to reign alone without a man over her. They fundamentally get the sort of twisted villainous feminism that they are peddling.

Next is the themes of beauty and glamor. These are two women who are fundamentally motivated by vanity - Cruella wants to design her original Dalmatian puppy coat and stun the art world with her ruthless originality whilst Grimhilde wants to kill her stepdaughter so that she can reign as the Fairest One of All. For them, beauty and aesthetics are absolute, and they share a willingness to buy their glamorous ambitions with the blood of the innocent. They would fundamentally GET each other in that regard. However, and this is important, they GET that same motivation for vanity, but they don't COMPETE with each other. Cruella is a pretty woman, but she's older and she's a chain smoker whose habits have caused her to become a bit emaciated. She's beautiful in her own way, but she's never going to rival Grimhilde as the Fairest One of All. Likewise, though Grimhilde has extravagant fashions and jewelry, she's not setting out to be at the forefront of clothing design and art. She would certainly WEAR outfits Cruella designed for her, but she wouldn't want to supplant Cruella either. They're going to make the world kneel before their beauty, but they're going to compliment each other rather than rival each other or have to set aside their vanities for each other.

Then one of the big important elements that makes this ship appeal to me so much is the motif of DUALITY. Cruella is noteworthy for her hair that is half-black and half-white. It's her signature style, she's well known for it, it ties in with the black and white dogs, and it ties in with how she has her likable and admirable public face but also her sinister and dark side that the rest of the world doesn't see. Grimhilde also has the duality motif. Hell, she has BLACK HAIR as the Queen and WHITE hair as the hag, and the whole black and white motif shows up in her potions ("Black of Night" and "To Whiten My Hair, a Scream of Fright"). Grimhilde literally has two faces and two forms. She is two villainesses in one, which is such a tasty match for the woman with infamously two-toned hair. And what I like about that too is that Cruella BLENDS with both the Queen and the Hag. With the queen, she has the aristocratic and blue blood regality and beauty that I mentioned before, but with the hag, she has the cackling maniacal bloodthirsty side that would have an absolute riot bringing death to innocents. It's so symbolic, and they're the only Disney villains who have that duality motif in that fashion.

And the fact that they have all of these interesting parallels and motifs while also being from two different worlds and two different time periods (medieval and modern) is a lot of fun purely from a crossover perspective but also as ANOTHER manifestation of their duality motif! And THAT is the type of tasty shipping fuel that I LIVE for!

So with Grimhilde and Cruella being of two different time periods, they also simultaneously coexist in one time period. Cruella in the original animated film may have been released in the 1960s, but her animator, Marc Davis, designed her to be a throwback to the old Hollywood glamor of the 1930s. Most specifically Tallulah Bankhead...

And Marlene Dietrich...

Cruella is pure Old Hollywood 1930s glamor trapped in a late 50s/early 60s modern domestic setting. And you know whose movie was made in the 1930s and has a very 1930s cultural aesthetic to it?

And Grimhilde herself is designed based on ANOTHER 1930s film villainess, She (Who Must Be Obeyed):

A movie that was famous for its Art Deco sets, and Art Deco is one of the main aesthetic motifs attributed to Cruella in the Glenn Close movies. So stylistically speaking, the two of them despite coming from different time periods and different worlds coexist in a way that is very old Hollywood. And with that combined link to the 30s, it helps the two of them to coexist peacefully and harmoniously in the same time period. They meet in this glamorous and mythologized liminal space. Heck, with Cruella's aesthetic links to the 1930s, I personally headcanon that she grew up absolutely obsessed with old Hollywood and making a concentrated effort to emulate that energy in her own style. Since Grimhilde is kind of an Old Hollywood character come to life, it's almost like Cruella can be a fangirl of something that she's admired for her whole life when she gets with Grimhilde, and you know Grimhilde is gonna LOVE that attention.

In addition, I personally like to be very cognizant about my ships with regards to what the individual character is going to look for in terms of a romantic partner and why the character that I've chosen for them suits that specific need. With Grimhilde, we know that she was married to Snow White's father and that she killed him, so we know that she didn't have any real love for that man, possibly any man. She rules over her kingdom alone and doesn't want anyone to rule beside her. In the Snow White comics and deleted scenes from the film, she showcases a sort of romantic rivalry for Prince Florian, but her affections for him are never about wanting an equal. She wants him because he is young and handsome and compliments her beauty and elevates her image in a way that helps give her more power through her beauty. So for Grimhilde, she needs a lover who can fill that niche - not someone to rival her or rule beside her, but someone who can be a perfect accessory to her beauty. Cruella being all about fashion and style is absolutely that person. She's very cognizant of appearances and what can accentuate or take away from beauty and aesthetics. That inherent utility to their relationship means that it would be something that Grimhilde would be open to indulging, and from there deeper feelings can develop under the right circumstances in a way that they wouldn't without having that utility first.

So that's Grimhilde's side of things. But what about Cruella? Well, we see Cruella's relation with love mostly revolving around this sort of one sided attraction that she has to Anita. And at first glance that seems contradictory to her getting with the queen, because Cruella is obviously going after a dainty and demure woman who she can kind of steamroll and collect as another fashion accessory. However, I think what makes this work so well is that it really showcases that Cruella has an attraction to traditional feminine beauty and women in general, and Grimhilde is of course is the fairest woman of all. The Glen Close movie adds an interesting dynamic to Cruella's attraction to Anita in that she enjoys the creative interaction that she has with Anita. Never really noticed Anita until the two of them started to collaborate creatively, and I feel like that's a big thing that Cruella needs and wants in a partner, someone who engages that creative side of her brain and understands her drive for aesthetics and beauty. And, as previously stated, who better to do that than the Queen of beauty herself? Grimhilde is a perfect model of unlimited dramatic creativity wrapped in a feminine and beautiful package that would set Cruella's heart ablaze.

Together the two of them fulfill that perfect niche for each other and foster a creative, beautiful, and bloodthirsty ruthless energy that would make them feel seen and supported. They effectively create their own little world of 1930s fantasy glamor when they come together, and that's just beautiful to me.

Those are the biggies, but some other really fun pieces of shipping fuel: *I love the aesthetic they have with them both being tall women with dramatic almost drag queen makeup and outfits that have tones of black, white, and red in their own signature styles. And Cruella has the flowing fur coat with the red liner and Grimhilde has the flowing cape with the red liner and so they can be very flouncy and twirly with their styles. *Grimhilde keeps a royal huntsman who can kill all of the animals for Cruella whenever she wants. *They both have similar structures to their stories - they start out on friendly or familial terms with the protagonists before they show their true colors, then they entrust men to kill the innocent creatures needed to enact their plan but those men fail them, forcing Grimhilde and Cruella to take matters into their own hands, and then the finales showcase them both transforming into frightening demented versions of themselves (old hag and crazy demon eyes Cruella during the car chase) madly pursuing their goals until they ultimate bring about their own defeats by the environment turning against them *Cruella has the green smoke of her cigarette which echoes the green and smoke of the Magic Mirror, and also Cruella's chain smoking being a sort of poison in and of itself links back nicely to Grimhilde's literal poisons. *OUAT gives Cruella magic powers and ties to the Author, and Grimhilde also has magic powers and is a literal storybook villain.

So, yes, at first glance, EvilPuppies may seem like just a crackship, but it's really not. There is SO much here in both their canon interactions and in their numerous parallels, and there are honestly probably even more that I'm forgetting. They are the crowning queens of femslash for me for good reason, and I adore them, darlings!

[aceofpatience]

🌙Your past life🌙

Well, hello my little oysters 🐚 This reading is an insight into your past life. I was looking into your energy, your previous job, goals, love, family, obstacles and advices form your past self etc. So there might be some things that could possibly trigger you (mentioned death, life difficulties). But, as always, take what you please, comment if anything resonates and just enjoy.

Shall we SEA?🌊

Pile 1. Uroboros

Who were you: Scorpio energy. I think you were in some position of power. Very secretive, always keeping things to yourself. Also keeping yourself in the shadows as you didn’t like being in the center of attention. You knew you were smart and you used it to your own advantage. Old soul, maybe during medieval times. A part of nobility?

Your main goal/want: I’m getting the vibe that you were born in an upper family but you just wanted more. However your ambitions were not all wishful power lust - it was more rational, strategic. You despised sitting still and doing nothing. You were deep into the game and you were good at it, trust me. To be honest, I’m getting some Game of Thrones energy - not only with fighting houses but also with the setting (castle corridors flooded in semi-darkness lol). You wanted to make things better (whether it was literal things or something more abstract).

What did you do (job/finances): Your wealth (at least in the beginning) came directly from your family or heritage. You didn’t need to work for money, you worked for yourself, maybe some relatives. You liked the struggle, the puzzles, the intrigues. It kept your mind occupied. „Finally, a worthy opponent.” *hides a smile*

Love life: I’m sensing some arranged marriage or marriage of convenience (but it’s not like you were pushed to do it - maybe even you were the one who thought it would be a good idea to get married for some reason). You were for sure not looking for love. BUT. With the marriage ceremony completed, true love was served to you on a damn silver platter. Y’all just skipped the dating phase lol. And, what is important - your spouse had very similar energy to yours. You joined forces (world domination couple xd). It’s like when Loki of Asgard fell in love with the alternative Loki. For some of you, it could be the same sex relationship (but then it would probably be in the shadows). Or it could also mean that there was actually no marriage - because it was your decision whether to have one or not - and if you knew it wouldn’t serve you, you simply wouldn’t get married.

Children (or not): I’m getting some only child energy. It was your decision to have a child - not only you planned it but you actively chose one (adoption maybe??). Or maybe you had a pupil for whom you were not only a guardian, but also a mentor. For sure your child has grown to be just like you. I don’t think you were that kind of a parent who shows their affection openly (I know, shocker), but you were a protector. And your child admired you. For sure.

Obstacles: Passion has always been a dangerous field for you in your past life. Dangerous dance. As well as all the people around you. You didn’t mind competition, but to find out that you actually deeply care for winning? That wasn’t something you signed up for. It was scary to find out that the game actually affected your emotions. You worked better with your mind engaged only.

An issue that progressed into your current life: Sometimes a spilled coconut milk is just a coconut milk. 🧉 It’s not about being grateful for shitty things in life or just being grateful - just look around to see other things. Maybe don’t focus only on this milk. Maybe on some fruit, mango perhaps idk. You don’t need to win every day to be happy. (Sorry for philosophical bullshit but I heart these one loud and clear)

Life purpose in your past life: Power, strength and wisdom (the holy trinity lol). You were surrounded by spirits who really enjoyed watching you mature. And by maturing in that case it meant being able to look in the mirror (and face your emotions).

Lesson from your past life: Sharing is caring lol. Appreciate your family or don’t be afraid to create one. Some battles are worth fighting for, even if you know you are going to lose. And sometimes it’s okay to step back (you made your point, so what? Everyone is dead already, nobody heard your damn point). Sometimes it’s enough to fight for what you need, not for what you want.

Death: I don’t think you died of old age, you were at full strength. You just grabbed a higher position when it happened. You fell off your high horse lol. Or maybe you literally fell off some rocks.

Pile 2. Orange tree/sefirot

Who were you: Sagittarius. Love given. Love received. Strong personality. You had all you needed in you. The real magic in a real person, who cared deeply for their family. Your touch made things grow. It’s like your everyday chores were a spell you cast on things around you. A warm happy gaze.  You did ponder the way the universe works, karma, past and future lives. I think the person you once were, was actually aware of who you are right now. You saw the future! And, I think you lived somewhere sunny and warm. Maybe the south? I see an orange tree.🍊

Your main goal/want: Peace. Harmony. Trust. The connection to the spiritual world. You had and still have really strong roots. You saw my gaze once. I feel there was a time in your life when you wanted revenge (or something similar) and as a result it carried you away from the life that you truly wanted.

What did you do (job/finances): Your previous job required an enormous responsibility on your part, you had a high position. So maybe you were a doctor, a judge, a scientist, or a soldier.

Love life: A lot of passion and desire, but also heartache. One of you had a position lower than the other. I’m also sensing some age gap, and there was some imbalance in that relationship. I think you often split up and got back together a while later. Maybe people around you were against your relationship and you had to hide it. I’m sensing you both went through a lot of changes during your lives - you grew up together. And you never gave up on each other.

Children (or not): Surprise child. Unplanned pregnancy. Maybe you live in times when your relationship was forbidden and you couldn’t get married. And with the baby you both found yourself in a difficult situation (but you made a choice to keep it). Very much your choice. That’s random, but I feel that despite all odds your child was very happy and optimistic. A little ray of sunshine. You cherished your child, spoiled them with love.

Obstacles: An illusion you wanted to live in. I don’t think you were naive, but some people might have judged you as such. It’s more like you just couldn’t stand the ugliness of the world sometimes, so instead you decided to create a small perfect bubble for you and your family. A cheerful oblivion. But it wasn’t oblivion after all - you weren’t oblivion, you just couldn’t stand all the bad things.

An issue that progressed into your current life: Number 8. Like it was in your past life, you still have the urgency to help others. You have hope in you, which is beautiful, but some people might use it against you. You crave your ideal life, but be careful or you’ll end up stuck in your fantasy. I'm hearing the words: „Don’t drown”.

Life purpose in your past life: Motherhood (not necessarily literal). You had such amazing nurturing energy, capable of creating life. I’m almost seeing this as if you could make a tree blossom just by touching it. You were a perfect listener, you made people feel seen. Also you could have been a truly amazing protective parent (I’m getting the vibe of a mama-bear).

Lesson from your past life: Protect your home and yourself first. If you genuinely want to help others, make sure to care for yourself first. Giving yourself to others doesn’t mean slowly destroying yourself. Breathe.

Death: I think you lived to an old age in your past life. And as you were getting older, you were separating more from the world outside. I think it might have something to do with your death. “For two grandma swore.” (don't ask lol).

Pile 3. Atlas holding the sky

Who were you: Responsibilities. Religion. You were a human lucky charm, attracting good things. Fate either with or against you in your life, no in-between. Your existence made others believe in miracles, even though you yourself were quite a down-to-earth person. You gave off the vibe of a noble knight who helps their neighbors and everyone loves them. I'm seeing a sentence: „It’s not who you are, but what you hold within yourself.” Idk bro. And I think you lived rather close to nature, so no big cities.

Your main goal/want: Your goals mostly revolved around material things (you weren’t greedy, just responsible lol). That’s random but I think you wanted to own a part of the land (take care of it, cultivate it, use it, and live there).

What did you do (job/finances): You were so hardworking. Couldn’t sit your ass down. Something school-related? Or maybe church? Professor or a priest? For sure your workplace gathered a lot of people for whom you were a mentor.

Love life: A love that is a gift from the Universe. Steady relationship. Instant attraction, a lot of courtship. Something that was supposed to be just a physical thing turned out to be a deep connection. You both understood each other so well - you could have had a conversation without talking, just with your eyes. You quickly got married but not without making a little sacrifice (moving out to a new place, a downgrade to your life before or something like that). But, like I said, this love was a gift. You didn’t waste it.

Children (or not): You planned your family. You had all the time in the world, so you could go the traditional way. I think you had a couple of children after you got married. Your home was idyllic, seriously. I’m even seeing some flowers in your house and a beautiful garden. Safe bubble of comfortable ease.

Obstacles: There was some unconscious desire in you for some drama. A big action, a great gesture. Don’t get me wrong you were SO fulfilled at the family level, but something about your spiritual life, your faith, got you kinda restless. It’s like you heard the fate calling out to you, but you loved your family too much to follow it. But the call stayed. A small rip inside you.

An issue that progressed into your current life: You still can’t stand to do nothing. I bet even if you tell yourself you can rest, your thoughts just keep running and running. It’s maddening. And I think you rarely ask others for help. You might seem open and friendly but all the most important stuff you only keep to yourself. 

Life purpose in your past life: Guiding others. You held some authority you knew how to use. And the call - I’m sensing that some goddess above or idk, some spirit, might have been a bit bitchy about you choosing the family instead of your divine mission. But you go, bro! Show’em!

Lesson from your past life: „Pride is not the opposite of shame, but its source.” Listen to uncle Iroh! Don’t take yourself so seriously. And trust your instincts. Remember that the distance from the real world might be painful - history shows that gods rather often ask for sacrifices than handle gifts.

Death: Your death was quick. Maybe poetic? Or just tragic. Happened at the moment when you ended some important part of your life. No specifics here, sorry dudes.

Pile 4. Prometheus

Who were you: You were a warrior. A street-smart person. You experienced so much at a very young age (I’m getting the number 16). Because of that you had to grow up too fast. Mature eyes, but a young face. You were rather reserved, distrustful, often skeptical. But also strong, resourceful, independent. People might have felt intimidated or even scared of you.

Your main goal/want: „What am I working on now?” You wanted to master your skill. Even though you’ve already gone through the training phase, you still wanted to prove yourself. You were being deceived by your own personality.

What did you do (job/finances): You commanded others. You had to face forces much bigger than you, all alone. You were giving orders, but it doesn’t mean that you didn’t work as much as your subordinates. You were responsible for others but demanded the most from yourself all the time. Your job was rapid, you definitely weren’t sitting behind a desk.

Love life: Twin flame. Your spouse was destined for you. You met at a crucial moment, when you both needed somebody like the other in your lives. You both were on a tough path: I’m seeing two soldiers supporting each other while marching. (I don’t mean your job was for sure connected with the military - it's more about your resilient energies together). Intimacy. Passion balanced by a soul connection. Whispering secrets to each other’s ears in the dark. Sharing quick kisses in the daylight. You will meet again. Coz that's what you do - you keep on going and your paths are always crossing.

Children (or not): I think the moment when you and your spouse were safe enough to start a family, was actually the biggest victory for you. For your children you were the biggest authority. They looked up to you all the time. As for you, I’m feeling a lot of pride and fear for them. You wanted to be a perfect parent, again putting too much pressure on yourself.

Obstacles: Some circumstances in your environment made you move around the world. For some time in your life you couldn’t stay in one place for long. The politics of the times in which you lived put crutches under your feet.

An issue that progressed into your current life: You have this tendency to make sacrifices, putting yourself in danger. It eventually may lead to a whirlwind of less fortunate events that cannot be stopped.

Life purpose in your past life: Embracing solitude. Finding out you are as much human as the rest of us. You can make mistakes and still be reaching greatness. You can be alone, but what for?

Lesson from your past life: Focus on love, connections. Learn to combine opposites within yourself. You don’t need to choose one path. You can be with others and not lose yourself at the same time.

Death: In your sleep. You had some kind of divine protection - as you died, you were taken care of and guided home.

[girderednerve]

when i was an undergrad working on my incredibly stupid honors thesis, one of my classmates told me that i should try to really think about how what i was writing was the most important thing in history. i thought it was good advice at the time mostly because i already thought that & appreciated the vindication. even though there was absolutely zero overlap between our two areas of interest—i was writing about european late medieval coinage, and they were writing about chinese republican opera—i do think we were both kind of right.

anyway now i firmly believe that the most important thing in human history is the organized struggle against occupational dust disease. is it? i mean, that's a stupid question: everything is the most important thing in human history if you look at it right. but also yes!

[sseomtada]

being [ruben dias]

your move to Manchester signifies a triumph - the result of nearly a decade of relentless, hard work. However, your sweet victory is quickly turned sour when you reencounter the person you once deeply loved.

a/n: remade secretly only to be back on my bs...here's to praying for me to finish this fic? | 1/??? | 4191 words

This weather was nothing short of an utter atrocity.

It was the kind of bone-chilling freeze that overpowered even your skin's ability to raise its own flesh. Every ounce of energy repurposed instead to turn that evolutionary feature inwards. A futile effort, at least in your case. Even back home in Amadora, you suffered from genetic lack of internal warmth.

Miserable environment aside, the move would be worth it. Everything that you’ve done for the past few years - nearly a decade of sleep deprivation, being the brunt bearer of power trips and clinging to the slimmest sliver of rarely presented opportunities - had led to this.

Not the brutalist view spanning the length of your new floor to ceiling living room windows, but what it signified. Growth. The expansion of your firm here, in Manchester.

“Estou exausta…”

You pulled your eyes from the endless clouds to see your right hand, Aki, draped limply over the last of your boxes.

“Careful.” You bent to rip open the tape sealing the one near your feet.

“Oh, sorry.” She blew her overgrown bangs up to no avail. “Am I crushing your precious CB2 ceramics?”

“Actually, you’re slowly sinking onto my very sharp surgical steel kitchen knives.” The box cutter in your hand gestured vaguely to the label beneath her hips.

Aki’s yelp echoed off through the empty loft as she sprang from the impending mockup of a medieval torture method. Your laughter joined in when she grimaced and muttered something threatening to the thick cardboard that remained dent free.

“Thanks for helping me with all this.” You exhaled. “I owe you.”

“We’re even when you think about it.” She fetched a box opener of her own.

Your eyes widened. There was never a moment in your lifelong friendship when she didn’t take up on an IOU card. Not even when she purposefully served a suspension for knocking the lights out of a girl who blew gum into your hair in the fifth grade.

“I mean, you brought me along with you to open Bana. Full executive package, no less.” Aki beamed and then sneered upon unboxing her newfound arch nemeses.

That was true. Since she was the company’s Head of Finance, her immigration to Manchester was completed covered. Housing located right across the hallway, a brand new car of choice and an increase in salary to accommodate for the higher price of living wasn't the worst package to receive.

It didn’t feel like much of a repayment for her efforts when all things were considered. Bana wouldn’t be close to what it was today if it wasn’t for her. Any business was only as successful as how well they manage their finances, an aspect that she can solely and proudly take credit for.

Not to mention that you both would be extremely busy while trying to fully establish this new branch. If anything, she at least deserved the building’s penthouse suite for the headaches bound to come throughout this journey.

“So…is that a pass on the 1982 Bruno Giacosa?” You dangled the proverbial carrot.

Aki didn’t miss a beat, “Don’t be ridiculous.”

Getting ready for your first day at the office never felt this good.

Perhaps it was due to the fact that your first ever job was, understandably, anxiety inducing. Being an intern for a well-known marketing firm wasn’t known to be a glamorous position - the multitude of reasons for that not stopping at being a coffee gopher.

After climbing the ladder to a mid-level position within your previous company, it became painfully obvious that the older leaders had no intention of making room for you soon. To eradicate any dreams of that from your mind, they even outright said it.

That led to your next go at a first day, the start of your own consultancy which would then go on to become Bana. Even though you had established your presence in the marketing world and had a few loyal clients, no amount of seminars you’d attended or books you’d read could’ve prepared you for the monster of a task you’d taken on.

This time felt different. There was always going to be an element of nervousness when stepping into a new venture. Even though this was a new branch on a tree you knew well, there was a lot to learn about operating in a new country and little time to do so.

What you had now, however, allowed you to convert that nervous energy into excitement. Experience, establishment and esteem. Those things among the equally as important trustworthy team behind you left you more confident than anything else that this could potentially only be the beginning.

“There better be a good reason why you’ve got me out early on a morning like this.” Aki’s poor facial muscles have yet to relax since the move it seemed. This time their scrunch was due to storm clouds looming in the distance.

“I think our very lovely AD has something exciting to share.” You nodded to give her the go ahead.

“Ladies, as you know I’ve been working on getting us an in with a certain business through my various sources and I’m happy to report that Bana was among the firms selected to pitch.” Cindy could barely contain her excitement.

Her optimism was infectious and part of the reason you recruited her. Another reason for bringing her into the fold to establish the new office was the insane network she had.

The blonde Londoner was in a similar predicament to you when you were starting out not long aog. Even hungrier, if you admitted it. Her former employer didn’t see the potential she clearly possessed, so you had no problem poaching her from them.

“And do we finally get to know the name of this state secret level business?” Aki leaned forward.

“Nike!” Cindy couldn't hold back any longer.

Even your face dropped at that. Not in the way that one’s expression would if they just found out that they’d been rejected from their dream school. It was something akin to finding out you’d won a fucking Oscar.

Among the celebratory cheers and shimmies, you thanked Cindy greatly for her hard work. And although it was a moment of uncontainable joy, the wheels had already began to turn in your mind.

There was absolutely no room for error if you wanted this pitch to be chosen. Being a newer firm undoubtably going up against major competition, Bana’s proposal had to be more than just that.

It had to be a statement. One that said you were not only a major player in this field, but that you also were to be seen as a direct rival.

You got to delegating tasks quickly. The sooner you got the bare bones of the pitch down, the quicker you could work on perfecting it. Aki was on budgeting as always - pricing presentation materials, researching and pricing the estimated budget for the product rollout for Nike.

Cindy was mostly on recon regarding the target audience. The product being launched was a new pair of their iconic AirMax, so you anticipated her using historical data as a guideline.

You’d have to do a fair bit of research yourself - getting into market research, the brand’s positioning and messaging - all while putting your firm’s spin on where you think Nike is hoping to go with this launch.

It was needless to say that the midnight oil would be burning. You set up a co-working space in the conference room to make communication seamless in brainstorming and building. This was the energy you missed so much, and a more sentimental reason behind your expansion.

Back home in Amadora, Bana was a well oiled machine. With a strong staff beside you, the hands on aspects of marketing were placed on the back burner by your own doing. In order for your employees to grow, you had to let them lead projects of their own and you trusted them to do so.

Now, you were back to inhaling concerning amounts of dry erase marker fumes and getting carpal tunnel from extensive mood boarding. That along with a side of meal deliveries and an equally as hard-working coffee machine made the long hours seemingly fly by.

“I’m so tapped, I need to power down for the day.” Aki stretched her back dramatically.

“Feel free to head out too, Cindy. Get some well deserved rest.” You took a moment of your own to release tension in your neck. “I’m good here for the next few hours.”

She was visibly grateful to be given the go ahead to clock out. From past experiences, you were able to sympathize all too well. You also made a mental note to have a conversation with her regarding working hours. There was never going to be an obligation of staying behind under your watch.

Cindy and Aki neatly organized materials for their return in the morning while you made your way to your office to continue outlining. With all of the research required collected, all you had to do at this point was place the information into their allocated areas.

There were three short raps at your door before you called her in.

“Still being here wasn’t exactly what I meant by rest, Cindy.” You chuckled, not looking away from your monitors.

“I’m on my way out now! Just wanted to bring you over the client mailing list I got from my source a minute ago.” She slid a USB drive onto your desk.

Your brows raised appreciatively, “Thank you, really. I mean it when I say that your presence here is essential and invaluable.”

Cindy waved a hand, her head shaking in time.

“I’m just happy to be helpful. See you tomorrow!”

You bid her goodbye and immediately got to taking a look at the information she left behind. It would be very useful in filling in some gaps you needed to flush out ideas that would attract the goal audience for the new product.

Influencers, Performing Artists, YouTubers…Athletes.

The last of those categories was obviously a given considering the brand. It also wasn’t the first time you’d come across that group in your line of work. This time though, seeing the label suddenly formed a knot in your stomach.

You were brought back to all of the avoidance in the aftermath - everyone in your life completely air-gapping the football world from your path. They did that to protect you, a gesture you still couldn’t bring yourself to thank them for verbally.

The mouse beneath your hot palm slowly shifted as you moved the cursor to click and expand the list. That knot grew to the size of a boulder. It squeezed your insides painfully within and forced a broken little noise past your lips.

One look at the name Ruben Dias was all it took to rattle you to your core.

o passado

At the age of seven, you moved to Portugal.

There wasn’t much you missed about your hometown, or even remembered for that matter. All you knew was that you were eerily calm for a child whose entire life up until that point had been uprooted. It was possible that your serene state of mind came from your mom.

She was all you had in the world. There was virtually no relationship had with her family - the only photograph you ever had with your grandparents was at your christening.

When it came to your dad, she put it as kindly as she could for a kid. You were smart enough to read the inference in her tone and the look on her face in the handful of moments he was brought up. He wasn’t in your life because he didn’t want to be.

Yet still, none of that made you sad or shaped you into a person defined by traumas. You intended to live the life that your mother encouraged you to. Be a kid, climb trees and get dirty, make friends along the way.

And that was just what you did. The first of them being the girl in your class that waved you over to the empty seat beside hers when you transferred. My name’s Akenna, but I hate it so I make everyone call me Aki instead.

She was the only person other than your mom who made you feel safe enough to confide in, just as easy to talk to as it was to listen to her wild recounts of her own life story.

Aki quickly became a regular in your home and you in hers. The giggles and secrets held in the various forts sprawling from your living room to bedroom would stay under lock and key until long after you both passed.

The next person you met would be the one who arguably shaped you the most. Loud shouts and tussling with a ball in the neighborhood park with his siblings was where you met Ruben. His tattered football rolled to your feet that touched the ground after you’d leapt from the swings.

With a weak kick, you returned it. Ruben shook his head in disapproval before he shot it right back at you. Try that again, with the left this time. You didn’t know if it was anger at being challenged by some random kid or genuine hidden talent, but when you hit the ball with your instep, it flew powerfully and directly into his own.

She’s on my team!

Inseparable wasn’t a strong enough word to describe you two. After finding out that you lived only one house down, he would come to your school to walk with you back home. On many of those occasions, Aki was there too. Your mom would be waiting with snacks and a warning, don’t play too long out in the sun, patifes.

Somewhere and somehow along the years, you and Ruben had become so close that it seemed you two were dating. Ivan jokingly asked one day as you were sharing a vanilla ice cream cone, ew, are you boyfriend and girlfriend? Ruben grabbed your hand, laced your fingers with his, and simply said, yes.

And that was that.

As for when you began to realize you loved him, that was harder to pinpoint. Maybe it came once you began to notice how helpful he was to you and your mom.

Ruben was always willing to lend a hand with repairs around your house, even if it meant searching up how-to videos when he thought you weren’t paying attention. Or how he’d go out of his way to walk your mom home when she worked night shifts.

Aki often griped and rolled her eyes at how you two were making her feel like a third wheel. Those complaints were always quickly followed with rebuttals that she’d spent a grand total of fifteen days as a single girl since she was thirteen.

Just make sure my maid of honor dress isn’t fugly at your wedding.

It was all but a given that marriage was pending in the future for you two. Ruben never had eyes for any other girl and you…God, you were terribly devoted to him. Even your posters of Justin Bieber found themselves catching dust in the closet, replaced by a collage of photos you and Ruben had taken together over time.

Five years saw graduations, proms, college acceptances and many, many firsts experienced together. His arms were the only man’s you’d ever laughed in, cried in, slept in. His eyes were the only one’s you saw when you closed your own. His lips were the only thing you wanted to taste on the good and bad days, and everything in between.

So, what happened on September 15th 2017?

To this day, you still had no answers to the why behind that question. Nor could you allow yourself to wrack your brain for them any longer should you want to hold onto your sanity.

As for what. Simply put, it was the worst day of your entire life to date.

On the eve of his debut for Benfica’s first team, an event he’d dreamt of and worked so hard for, one that become just as significant to you by extension, Ruben broke up with you. Over the phone, no less - which added humiliation onto a violent erupting volcano of destructive emotions.

Cold turkey, brutal, cruel. It’s over, don’t contact me, I don’t love you anymore.

There were no warning signs, no moments in retrospect left unturned during your spiral, that could’ve possibly made what you read true. You initially thought it was some sick joke. Maybe one of his teammates had taken his phone. Or perhaps there was some girl that wanted him and was jealous that he was yours, so she decided to play dirty.

It was none of that or the million other scenarios you came up with on you walk over to his home. You came to learn that it was, in fact, not a joke. Ruben meant it when he said he was done with you.

He made that painfully clear as he looked at you standing under the faint glow of the lantern on his front porch through the window. Those eyes you once dreamt of fondly seemingly someone else’s as he drew the curtain and shut off the light.

You don’t recall much of time that passed in the months following that night. Every now and then you’d get flashes - Aki crawling in and out of the bed you temporarily became one with, your mom scooping you up to help you bathe and wash your hair.

It was better that way, you think. A blessing in disguise to not be able to clearly recall the most devastating period of your existence.

When your memory resumed, it always picked up at the same place. You siting with Aki on the steps of an abandoned subway station in total silence.

In your mind, you were there with him years ago when the line was still functioning. The rush of the train brought wind along that rose your hair like lightning was about to strike. Ruben grinned toothily as he smoothed it back, tilting your face upwards.

He said I’d always be home when I was with him. Where am I supposed to go now?

The silence returned even louder following the question that neither of you had the answer to.

Instead, you sat there in it with your best friend and shed the last tears you ever would over Ruben Dias.

o presente

Seven years was a long time.

It came with two college degrees, laser focus and an ability to compartmentalize so strongly that it would terrify artificial intelligence.

Whatever threatened to upend you at the sight of his name was snatched up and contained to be dealt with sometime in the future. You didn’t put literal blood, sweat and tears into your career to let one old wound derail it at such a pivotal moment.

With the same vigor you scrapped up to move on with your life, you poured every ounce of energy you had into absolutely nailing your pitch. Five all nighters, thirty six edits and ten complete run throughs later resulted in Bana being chosen as the firm to brand the newest AirMax.

“I always knew you were a genius, but this project was just,” Aki kissed the air as she took the next left to drive back to your shared building.

“Team effort, Aks.” You mumbled.

The thing about throwing yourself entirely into one project was that when the hard work was done, all the was left was the shit you were avoiding. You could feel it there, gnawing at the back of your head like a mice on a fresh piece of cheese.

“What if we watched an old coming of age movie like we used to on nights like this? Pop out some wine, get in our pj’s…real wild stuff.” She nudged your elbow with hers.

You casted a fond glance at her. Aki would never come outright and say it, but it was her way of checking in with you. The client mailing list was no secret to her since she needed it for the budgeting, so there was no way she missed him being on there.

The mice grew hungrier. Throughout all of your breakdowns and pain, she held all of hers in unselfishly and arguably stupidly. You weren’t the only one who lost someone important to you on that night.

“We do that after product launches. The deal has only just been sealed.” A smile was managed to form on your end.

“Ah…best not jinx it then, huh?” Aki blew a raspberry.

In order to keep her worries at bay this time, something you silently promised to do ever since your senses had returned, you squeezed her arm and doubled down.

“Besides, I haven’t had a proper night’s sleep in nearly three weeks. I think I’ll just go for a short run, take a shower and hibernate.”

She nodded, liking the sound of that plan. You would’ve felt proud of your disarming skills had you not known the real reason for her shoulders relaxing. She was looking forward to having the next two days off more than anyone else.

“Don’t forget to text me when you get back.” Aki stuck out her pinky.

“Always.” You locked yours in tight.

The repetitive beat of your feet meeting the ground had the ability to still your mind nearly as much as pouring yourself into your work did. Left, right, left, right, left. When you added in the accompanying swing of your arms, the constant reminder to keep your breath in control and music that made you feel like you could punch a hole through a wall - you were nothing short of a machine.

It was one of the healthier coping mechanism you’d clung to back home. Every day, you’d take to the streets of the new neighborhood you moved to and then to the track at you university.

You’d gotten so good at it that you were scouted to run for the school’s team. Going pro was never a part of your plan, though. You only accepted the offer because it came with a free ride.

A drop of water hit your face, but it was cold.

Your treads slowed a bit as your eyes turned skyward. The clouds illuminated against a murky purplish background with the warning of distant lightning approaching. You refocused and pumped your legs faster. Fucking Manchester.

In between your songs transitioning, you heard a faint rumble. It made the hairs on the back of your neck stand up, the sound distorted by the headphones muffling your ears playing tricks that twisted the noise to sound partially human.

Whether it was or not, you weren’t trying to stick around to find out. It was late at night and the weather was going to get hellish soon.

From the corner of your eye, you spotted a shadow ripping behind the streetlights - closing in on yours with each meter. Lactic acid built painfully in your muscles as you pushed even harder, breath control thrown to the wind.

It was gaining on you while rain began to fully fall.

Within a matter of seconds, which is all you had, you came to a decision. You were too exhausted from sleep deprivation and being nearly an hour into your run to beat whoever was chasing after you. The only option you had now was to steel your nerves and use the keys in your pocket as a last line of defense.

Your right hand blindly reached down and was met with lint. Terror hadn’t been felt until that very moment. A thousand and one scenarios raced through your mind with you reaching for the ones that would allow you to leave this situation at least narrowly unscathed.

The one you got a firm grip on using the element of surprise to hopefully distract them from whatever intentions they had for an instant. You took one last deep breath before spinning around swiftly and throwing out a fist.

A man in a baseball cap dodged the punch to his credit, albeit not very ideal for you. His balance, however, was in your favor. He slipped on the slick sidewalk and landed flat on his back with a pained groan.

You were the last thing you should’ve been given that you’d been granted an escape - frozen. On your behalf, you would’ve been halfway down the street and barreling towards your building had it not been for the wide eyes staring up at you.

Those eyes…Ruben’s.