#the past few weeks have been so many extreme highs and lows

[yiiyiiwrites]

🏹 | The Hunt |

Eris Vanserra x shifter/spring court reader(Tamlin’s cousin). [Acotar masterlist]

Summary: unable to turn down Beron’s invitation and the equinox hunt, you have to mind where you tread in the autumn court. The scheming Vanserra brothers and the hunt where you could so easily become the hunted if you were to shift. (like Tamlin and the rest of his bloodline, you can shift into an animal). 3920 words

Brothers oldest to youngest: Eris, Theadon, Marcellus, Theron, Sandros †, Deimos † and Lucien. (Not edited).

The autumn equinox used to be one of your favourite celebrations as a child, but as you grew up, it became woven with politics. It had been a week since the fireworks, smoke still hung in the air, curling around the low branches of trees and around your ankles as your leather boots sunk into the mud.

The high lord, Beron had extended an invitation for the hunt. A tradition for nobles and every other sucker who tried to sweeten the Vanserra’s and their court. You however, were not so lucky. Forced to join the men and buff away any conflict before it got worse.

With the past fifty so years under the mountain and the aftermath of Aramantha’s reign, this would be the first of many hunts going forward now that the courts were finding a bit of normalcy.

“You cannot be serious,” you snarled, crossing your arms over your chest and balling your fists out of sight under your elbows.

The thick bodice and riding jacket drew a quick breath from you as you fought to exhale a deep sigh. It had been decades since your last hunt in autumn, your hips a little wider and your breasts fuller. You’d binded your stomach and chest, trying to fit into the traditional garments Beron had gifted you when you were much younger.

Theadon Vanserra’s golden eyes flitted to your chest, smirk tugging his thin lips. “Never complained before,” he said, shoving his hands in a pair of soft brown leather gloves. The second son of autumn, a few years younger than Eris.

He huffed, blowing the curl of ginger hair back out of his eyes. His beauty well crafted as if an artist had took centuries to carve the sharp lines of his straight pointed nose and high cheek bones out of marble. You couldn’t help but let your gaze wander whenever you found yourself in his company. Theadon lapping it up, flirting back with you and trying to inch over the boundaries you’d set with him.

“Can always ride with me, pet.”

The chestnut horse behind you nudged you between your shoulder blades with its muzzle and you stumbled forwards, whirling around and jabbing a pointed finger to the next Vanserra brother.

“You know you’re much more likeable when you don’t speak, Marcellus,” you snapped at the third Vanserra brother. The fiery red hair duller, blonder than the rest of his siblings.

Marcellus didn’t pay you much mind, snorting at your half ass reply and pulling the reigns beside him. The horses long glossy tail flicking you in the face as it circled back to the front of line with his father.

Theadon was a tease and you frequently played into it, using his advances to gain the attention of one particular Vanserra. Marcellus though all talk, nasty venomous tongue, but never did anything to physically harm you.

The seven brothers seemed to be dropping like flies, the middle one leaping from his saddle and blocking your path to Theadon and his sandy stead.

“How about you shift and we’ll chase you, pet.” Theron, named after the hunter of autumn and the meanest of the pack. “So get your ass on that horse and don’t complain again.” He shoved you aside, hand grasping the back of your neck as he guided you back to Theadon.

Theron Vanserra, middle child that went to extremes to gain a scrap of attention from his father. You were yet to see a kind side to him, even when you grew up in their court and ran around with them as kids.

Ever since his twins Sandros mysterious death, Theron made it his mission to make your visits as short as possible. You’d happily let him run you out of autumn if wasn’t for the eldest Vanserra keeping you there.

“Brother, she’s a lady not a pup,” Theadon chuckled, his forced laugh cut short as Theron shoved you towards the horse. He placed his gloved hands on your hips and lifted you over the horse, your fingers wrapping around the reigns trying to pull yourself up. You don’t need to summon any strength though as Theadon pushed against the back of your thighs to help you swing a leg over onto the saddle. Your boot brushed the steads sandy coat, a line of dirt left in its wake.

You don’t bother snapping at him, Theadon a lesser evil when it came to the brothers of the hunt. Eris hadn’t participated in years since he’d become General and took on more responsibilities.

“Mutt maybe,” Theron mumbled, scratching the stubble on his jaw. The leather hunting gear he wore, scratched and worn as if it were his way of showing off his skills and power.

You wished you knew the person responsible for his crooked nose, only to thank them for breaking it.

Theadon grabbed your wrist before you could even curl your fingers and swipe a punch, your arm pinned by your side as you glared down at it. You’d been too consumed with rage that you hadn’t noticed him climb on the saddle behind you, his warmth pressing against your back.

“Comfortable?” Theadon murmured, lips brushing against the shell of your ear. He wasn’t asking though, just trying to distract you from tumbling down and going for his younger brother. Not that he’d let go of you.

He shifted sinking closer to you, back of your head knocking his firm chest. His knuckles swiped the braid down your back and he draped it over your shoulder, giving it a little tug. You couldn’t relax though with Theron snapping at you, every bone in your body rigid and your spine upright ready to defend or attack.

Theron’s face was always twisted with disgust whenever his gaze caught you, like he’d been chewing on a wasp. You still couldn’t believe that Theron and Marcellus had married noble fae. He took one more glance at you and spat on the ground, hoisting the bow and arrow back over his shoulder as he walked to his horse. A grumble echoing away with him.

Fae females were not allowed to ride alone during the hunting parties, an escort always needed. Which is why you found yourself like every other solstice hunt with Theadon whispering in your ear, one hand on your stomach to keep you from sliding away and his other on the reigns as the horse galloped through the rough terrain.

The rising sun broke through the tight knitted trees, sending golden rays over the red rolling hills of autumn in the distance. You squinted, hoping the light would blind the hunters and allow the animals to escape before they met the sharp tip of an arrow or canines of the dogs scrambling near the pounding hooves.

“Must be cold when you hop in and out spring and summer, much like my brother’s beds.” Theadon doesn’t bother keeping his voice low, deep sigh fanning the crown of your head.

“Not your bed though,” you said, wincing as his fingers dug into your stomach. You thanked the gods that you’d chosen thickest bodice, bronze embroidery adding more armour to protect. His warning enough for you to stop before you said too much.

Theadon hummed, pulling the reigns tighter in his other hand and rested it on your thigh. “I do wonder…” he mused, “does Eris know how easy it is for you to lay with another.”

Rumours had followed you ever since you were dumped in the autumn court. A fae of spring raised to act as a bridge between the two courts and smooth out any grievances. And with that task came a lot of talk. How you’d worked your way through the brothers and chased the youngest back to spring. You’d never revealed the truth, the only one that mattered was him and he knew you.

A chorus of howls tore through the forest, horses stomping to a halt as if they all stopped to listen to your reply.

The men ahead were searching beyond, a lone hound escaping the undergrowth of a thorny hedge with a brown fox between its teeth.

You looked away, but Theadon grabbed your chin and forced you to watch the snapping of its neck.

“Is that what you look like as a pretty little fox?” He asked, hand trailing down the column of your throat. “I remember you shifting as a child, just a pup.”

Hunting was the one thing you hated, autumns plea of killing all the runts of their animals. The odd brown foxes that were deemed unworthy compared to the fiery orange coated ones they trained as messengers. The one form you’d taken on, but you were able to blend into whatever court you were in. A fluffy white coat for winter, orange for autumn and silver for spring.

You’d only shifted once in autumn and vowed never to again. Theron and Sandros had chased you through the forest, straight into a badgers home. You still had the scars from their claws on your back as you tried to dig your way out.

“Maybe I’ll shift and rip your throat out. I’m sure you’d like that,” you said leaning your head on his chest and peering up at him. The deep line between his brows softened, lips curving into a smirk.

“Mmm tempting, maybe you can shift some of these layers off later for me?” He whispered, gaze dropping from your lips to your breasts.

Smooth, too damn smooth. You couldn’t help but laugh at him, the way he easily fell back into flirting. “In your dreams Vanserra,” you said, scanning the forest and soon regretting it as your gaze found Theron’s.

The smile dropped from your face as his horse trotted back to the line near you. There was an overall darkness to the middle brother, cherry red locks cut short so it never got in his way. Eyes of bronze that darkened as soon as they narrowed at you. Brawn and brain, even if he played into the brawn more. Everything he did calculated, you couldn’t help but think he’d been plotting your downfall ever since you first stepped into autumn as a child.

“The things you do in my dreams,” Theadon whispered, but before he could divulge all the dirty details a force barrelled into his horse.

The hold around your waist fell away, your body slamming to ground. Pounding of hooves shook the roots beneath the earth and you curled into yourself hoping you wouldn’t get trampled on. Voices boomed in the distance, hounds barking and teeth snapping, but you couldn’t peel your hands away from your face.

Muffled sounds filtered through the shield you’d created around you, your foxes senses picking up the crack of broken twigs at your back. You inhaled, trembling breath trying to push back, there was no way you’d shift. Not in autumn.

Something hard hit your elbow and you lowered your arm, peeking over at Theron. You just wanted to burrow into the ground and be rid of the bastard. He nudged you again, thick mud staining your dress as his boot met your knee.

“Up you get, pet,” he said through gritted teeth, “follow me or don’t follow me, I don’t care. Just keep up.” He didn’t spare another glance at you, his figure halfway up the sloping path by the time you’d stood.

The early morning fog long gone, your surroundings crisp and clear of anyone but him. Even the wind did not carry the yells of the hunting party or the sounds of their movements. The forest too quiet for your liking.

You trudged after Theron, glaring at his back.

“Watch where you’re going,” he called over his shoulder as he side stepped a foxes hole. A hare dove into the bushes at his booming voice, browning leaves showering the earth in its wake.

A whip of wind pushed you forwards, your legs like jelly as you tried to keep your balance. The heel of your boot on the edge of a large hole of a fallen trees ripped roots.

You trailed after Theron, climbing atop the fallen tree and walking across the stream. The trunk slick with moss, slippery beneath you that you didn’t bother lifting your feet but sliding them along. You clutched your skirt, balling it up in your fist as you thought out the best path that didn’t lead to the icy water below.

“Maybe if you watched where you were going earlier, we wouldn’t be trekking through the sodding woods,” you snapped, jumping down to the other side of the stream.

Of course Theadon would hang back and look after the horse, he’d be guaranteed another stead to get back to the castle on. You on the other hand were being led gods knows where into the golden forest of autumn with someone who wouldn’t spit on you if you were on fire.

The hunter, bully. Just like his father, you dread the day if Theron ever became high lord. He didn’t bother acknowledging your words or your presence, his fists clenched by his side as he zigzagged the makeshift path. Horses hooves leading him back the way you’d come that morning.

You scrambled up the muddy terrain, nails scraping against the branch you used as leverage to hoist yourself over. The mist of rain weighing down your riding jacket, another shackle to keep you down in the court.

The howling wind tore through your hair, the woven braid over your shoulder coming undone. Stray strands sticking to your neck and shielding your sight.

You felt the snap before you saw it, iron teeth sinking into the flesh of your ankle. The tears rolling down your cheeks burnt, voice hoarse as you screamed once again.

"I told you to watch where you're going," Theron snarled, crouching down beside you and taking the curved side of the iron trap in each hand.

“Get it over with,” you snarled, regretting the rise of your voice as you moved in anger and felt the searing pain shoot up your leg.

Theron paused, fingers slipping from the trap. “Why don’t you shift? Sure you’ll be able to get out of that one yourself. It will make for good entertainment at least,” he said, his knuckles brushing against your jawline.

Against your better judgement, you spat in his face. Your saliva rolling down his freckled cheek, he froze. His nostrils flaring, body trembling with what you could assume as a blinding rage. He lifted a curled fist and drew his arm back, flames spreading across his knuckles.

You clamped your eyes shut, felt the heat crashing forwards, but nothing came. A chorus of whimpers in your left ear made you dare to peak in front of you.

Three hounds, one by your side sitting patiently for you to greet them. Another sniffing the edge of the iron trap. The last growling at Theron, hair raised on its back as it forced him to walk back.

“Like calls to like,” Theron spat.

You didn’t know if it was the loss of blood or the eldest Vanserra, but as he appeared through the trees your head become heavy. Heartbeat drumming against your chest.

“Mother’s looking for you,” Eris said, head nodding to the pathway behind him.

Walking painstakingly slow, you tracked his smooth movements as he made his way to you. Eris dropped to his knees, lightly pushing the hounds nose away from the trap. He rubbed his jaw, amber eyes flitting from your ankle to your face.

“Do you ever do as you’re told,” he said, prying the iron teeth apart. The lock clicked back into place and his hand cupped the back of your calf as he moved it away from the trap.

“Tell me what to do, I might just do it just for you.”

He shook his head and lifted you into his arms. Warmth spread as you laid your head on his shoulder and draped your arms around his neck. His hounds scouted off ahead, running as quick as shadows that you couldn’t keep up with them.

You slid your palm from the back of his neck and rested it on his chest. His heart beating too slow and repetitive compared to your erratic one. You’d blame it on the wound if he dared to bring it up.

“Where are you taking me, General?” You asked as the trees gave way to golden hills in the distance, a few wooden huts dotted the perimeter.

“The barracks, so keep your mouth shut,” Eris whispered, lips pursed and head held high as he walked through the checkpoint.

Suits of bronze and red parted for Eris, heads lowering in respect and they did not rise till his back faced them. You watched his unit scurry around, your chin propped on top of his shoulder. Foxes weaved through the soldiers boots, bound letters attached to their back.

You’d never been to the outer edge of the generals quarter. Ladies stayed within the centre of the court and were normally accompanied by a chaperone if outside. You however, knew the secret passageways in the castle and ancient crumbling pathways that were rarely used.

Eris’s grip tightened on you, his gaze flitting to the two guards stationed either side of the largest wooden cabin you’d ever seen in autumn. They parted, gloved hands pulling the oak doors open so that the General could enter. Gaze fixed ahead, Eris walked through the narrow corridor to the left.

Lanterns flickered, flames roaring to life as if the General had summoned them himself. The terracotta tiles on the floor were so clean you could see waxy shine coating it and the reflection of his flames dancing between each square.

The last door opened and closed as Eris walked in, large table dominating the room. A map covering up most of it, but it curled up as soon as your gaze wandered the red ink painting the Autumn court. Eris sat you atop a desk, inks and parchment neatly placed to one side.

You shrugged off your riding jacket and let it fall behind you, gaze following Eris whose back faced you. He pulled open some drawers, glasses clinking together in one hand and rags in another. Placing your palms on the desk, you leant back as he walked back to you, brows furrowed as he stared at your boot. He shoved a bottle of green liquid into your hand, head jerking for to drink up.

Popping the cork off you gagged at the stench, but tipped the bottle back and drank the lot. The thickness of the potion coated the back of your throat and you coughed, fist colliding with your chest as you tried to rid yourself of the burnt taste lingering. The ringing in your ears disappeared, vision clearing the haze away.

"It must be bad," he mumbled as he crouched down, fingers untying the knot from your laces. "Not even one word." A smile tugged the corner of his lips, his amber eyes flicking back to yours.

"You told me to keep my mouth shut," you said, brushing the hair out of his face and back over his shoulder. Your breaths quick and heavy, the damned corset cutting into your ribcage. Not at all anything to do with the General on his knees before you making light work of pulling the laces out of your boot.

"So you do, do as you're told."

The banter more to distract you, the iron still swimming around your blood from the trap. You wouldn't lie, it felt like your ankle had been ripped off, never mind torn apart from a hunters trap.

"Like I said, only for you," you said through gritted teeth, Eris's fingers and palm were coated red, boot discarded to one side. You tugged the bow at the centre of your corset and pulled the ribbon free, allowing yourself the room to draw a deeper breath.

Eris raised a brow, but didn't ask what you were doing, only rolled your sock down your ankle slowly leaving it halfway on your foot.

You fanned your face with your hand, a bead of sweat rolling down your chest. "God's it's so hot in here, are you hot?" The iron making you a crumbling mess in front of him.

"You know I'm hot," he said without a missing a beat, he swiped a cold paste on the wound, touch soft and precise. Always so careful when it came to you, just not with words.

"God's this barbaric court, hunting down an animal all because it's not deemed good enough. Why couldn't I get a beast like Tam? I'd happily hunt those...Do you know who broke Theron's nose?" You rambled on, word after word tumbling out before you could stop. Eris's laugh shutting you up, his broad shoulders shaking as his hands hovered a safe distance from your wound.

He leant his elbow on his thigh and his head arched to peer up at you, amber eyes flickering like the flames. "You do realise who you're complaining to?" Eris asked, his attention returning to the cloth in his hand. He wiped the blood from your ankle, wrapping a strip of gauze around the wound and tying it in place.

"I'm just," you said, pausing as he rose to stand. Your gaze trailing his chest and the thick column of his throat. "Just thinking if you're next in line..." you whispered as he leant down, forcing you to topple back, but his palm found the small of your back keeping you in place.

You couldn't blame the corset for the tremor in your breath, heat spreading the expanse of your back beneath his touch. Eris's copper hair fell from his shoulder shielding you from the light, gliding against the bare scrap of skin on your chest. His other hand slid up your thigh slow, but he did not break away from your gaze.

"I broke it," Eris said, nose nudging yours.

"Thank you," you said, you grabbed him by the lapels of his coat and you pressed your lips to his.

Eris retreated from you, hand slipping away from your back. "You want to know why?" He asked, finger hooking under you chin and making your gaze connect with his once again.

The back of his hand traced your cheek and jaw, you closed your eyes melting into his touch. you nodded, humming for him to continue.

"Because he hunted you when you shifted."

You eyes shot open. You hadn't told anyone that story, not even your parents. Eris must have heard his brothers bragging about it back then, as he'd turned up at your bedroom that night and helped you tend to the cuts on your back. He'd held your hand, let you sob in his arms as the cleaning balm set into the wounds. Never asked you asked any questions, his silent presence soothing enough.

"They try to make out that you're as delicate as a flower in spring, but you're as strong as the thorns guarding your borders. I see you," he said, framing your face in his hands. "The way you dance between courts, use those pretty words to escape much worse and how you do it all on your own."

"I don't know what you're talking about," you managed to whisper, tears threatening to spill over your lashes.

"No pretty words for me?" He asked, his lips brushing against the shell of your ear.

"Kiss me."

Wrote this whilst I was sick so might be some errors etc. but I always wanted to write some of the other Vanserra brothers and I originally wrote another Eris fic and this is like a spin off from that. Hope you like :)

[peatmosses]

My buddy is giving me the signs that he’s ready so I’m knitting him a little blanket

[covid-safer-hotties]

COVID-19’s summer surge shows no signs of slowing down - Published Aug 17, 2024

Asurge in COVID-19 infections has swept the country this summer, upending travel plans and bringing fevers, coughs and general malaise. It shows no immediate sign of slowing.

While most of the country and the federal government has put the pandemic in the rearview mirror, the virus is mutating and new variants emerging.

Even though the Centers for Disease Control and Prevention (CDC) no longer tracks individual infection numbers, experts think it could be the biggest summer wave yet.

So far, the variants haven’t been proven to cause a more serious illness, and vaccines remain effective, but there’s no certainty about how the virus may yet change and what happens next.

The highest viral activity right now is in the West, according to wastewater data from the CDC, but a “high” or “very high” level of COVID-19 virus is being detected in wastewater in almost every state. And viral levels are much higher nationwide than they were this time last year and started increasing earlier in the summer.

Wastewater data is the most reliable method of tracking levels of viral activity because so few people test, but it can’t identify specific case numbers.

Part of the testing decline can be attributed to pandemic fatigue, but experts said it’s also an issue of access. Free at-home tests are increasingly hard to find. The government isn’t distributing them, and private insurance plans have not been required to cover them since the public health emergency ended in 2023.

COVID has spiked every summer since the start of the pandemic. Experts have said the surge is being driven by predictable trends like increased travel and extreme hot weather driving more people indoors, as well as by a trio of variants that account for nearly 70 percent of all infections. Vaccines and antivirals can blunt the worst of the virus, and hospital are no longer being overwhelmed like in the earliest days of the pandemic.

But there remains a sizeable number of people who are not up-to-date on vaccinations. There are concerns that diminished testing and low vaccination rates could make it easier for more dangerous variants to take hold.

“One of the things that’s distinctive about this summer is that the variants out there are extraordinarily contagious, so they’re spreading very, very widely, and lots of people are getting mild infections, many more than know it, because testing is way down,” said William Schaffner, a professor of preventive medicine and infectious diseases at Vanderbilt University.

That contagiousness means the virus is more likely to find the people most vulnerable — people over 65, people with certain preexisting conditions, or those who are immunocompromised.

In a July interview with the editor-in-chief of MedPage Today, the country’s former top infectious diseases doctor, Anthony Fauci, said people in high-risk categories need to take the virus seriously, even if the rest of the public does not.

“You don’t have to immobilize what you do and just cut yourself off from society,” Fauci said. “But regardless of what the current recommendations are, when you are in a crowded, closed space and you are an 85-year-old person with chronic lung disease or a 55-year-old person who’s morbidly obese with diabetes and hypertension, then you should be wearing a mask when you’re in closed indoor spaces.”

Schaffner said hospitalizations have been increasing in his region for at least the past five weeks, which surprised him.

“I thought probably they had peaked last week. Wrong. They went up again this week. So at least locally, we haven’t seen the peak yet. I would have expected this summer increase … to have plateaued and perhaps start to ease down. But we haven’t seen that yet,” he said.

Still, much of the country has moved on from the pandemic and is reacting to the surge with a collective shrug. COVID-19 is being treated like any other respiratory virus, including by the White House.

President Biden was infected in July. After isolating at home for several days and taking a course of the antiviral Paxlovid, he returned to campaign trial.

Biden is 81, meaning he’s considered high risk for severe infection. He received an updated coronavirus vaccine in September, but it’s not clear if he got a second one, which the CDC recommends for older Americans.

Updated vaccines that target the current variants are expected to be rolled out later this fall, and the CDC recommends everyone ages 6 months and older should receive one.

As of May, only 22.5 percent of adults in the United States reported having received the updated 2023-2024 vaccine that was released last fall and tailored to the XBB variant dominant at that time.

The immunity from older vaccines wanes over time, and while it doesn’t mean people are totally unprotected, Schaffner said, the most vulnerable should be cautious. Many people being infected now have significantly reduced immunity to the current mutated virus, but reduced immunity is better than no immunity.

People with healthy immune systems and who have previously been vaccinated or infected are still less likely to experience the more severe infections that result in hospitalization or death.

Almost “none of us are naive to COVID, but the people where the protection wanes the most are the most frail, the immunodeficient, the people with chronic underlying illnesses,” Schaffner said.

[hard-times-paramore]

Assassin's Creed fanfic: Raw Emotion

Ao3 link

Tags: Desmond Miles x Elijah Miles' Mother | Fluff and Smut | Hurt/Comfort | Sub Drop | Aftercare

Words: 1832

Summary:

Desmond is just a boy looking to live his life. Enjoying what freedom has to offer.

And the highs and lows that come with it.

Samantha's hands were twined to her boyfriend's while they made out in the shadows of the alleyway behind the Bad Weather club.

The night was reasonably cold - just enough that they could use it as an excuse to stay glued to each other. Slowly, as they kissed, she let go of his hand to completely embrace him.

"We should get out of here." He chuckled, between breaths.

Samantha pouted. "What's wrong with here?"

"Uh, everything?" He said. "Ever ride on a motorcycle before?"

"Can't say I have." She answered. They'd been dating for almost a year, and she still hadn't gone on a ride with him - she was a bit nervous around the things.

Hence why she was hoping they could just stay in there.

"Do you wanna call it a night?" He asked, much to her disappointment. "I'm free some other t—"

"No, wait!" She interrupted.

Being honest, they could do better than a dirty alley behind a loud club.

"Alright." She sighed, with a smile. "Let's get out of here."

Her boyfriend only had one helmet - so he let her use it. He drove them across twelve blocks up to his apartment - at 2am, the streets weren't as busy. The lights and billboards of New York flashed past Samantha as she held onto Desmond's torso, clutching so hard she could feel his ribs. She'd had a few drinks before, when meeting him at his club. Her slightly blurry vision and impaired thoughts only made the city prettier to her eyes.

They were already kissing again when they got to the door. Desmond struggled to find the right key with one hand, having the other at Sam's waist. He pulled her away only long enough to locate the keyhole.

"Let me breathe!" He joked.

"You don't get to breathe." She laughed back. "It's a special occasion."

Sam had only been to his house a handful of times - but she'd always been amazed at how he managed to keep such a small, shitty apartment so clean. It was already a shabby building in a poor district. His landlord didn't give a damn about the state of the place he overcharged for. But Desmond somehow managed to fix the faulty dishwasher and get rid of the bathroom mold by himself.

Truth be told he didn't keep many belongings, and those he did were always extremely organized. He told her he used to move a lot - it was just a habit he got along the way.

Desmond couldn't tell her the real reason. It wasn't quite that he moved a lot - it's that he had to be ready to move again. Two years ago, he had escaped from his parents' home, who led a weird, alternative lifestyle in a desert community near the Black Hills. They raised him on tough love and mild neglect, and were the origins of most of his trust issues. The reason he hadn't invited Sam over that many times, or the reason they'd never had sex before, despite dating for almost a year. That he'd hardly ever have sex at all - as doing so meant letting someone as deep in your life as they did in your body.

Sam was right, it was a special occasion.

They managed to part their faces long enough to strip and were stumbling to bed when Sam stopped in her tracks.

"Uh, do you have a condom?" She asked.

"Ah shit." Desmond sighed. Since he never had sex, he didn't bother to keep them around. "It's always something. I totally forgot, Sam, I'm sorry."

"Whatever. We'll remember next time." She said, moving closer to him once again. He briefly held her back.

"Whoa, you're sure?" He said. "What if you..."

"Nah, I had my period last week." She justified. "More or less. It's just this time, Dez."

Neither of them wanted to admit it, but they were too hot and horny to stop and reschedule. Desmond, for all his planning, was still 18 and an idiot. So he nodded, and fell into bed with her.

He was the one scared now. He's never done it with her - it was only the second or third time he'd have sex at all. So many things could go wrong. What if it felt bad? What if she didn't enjoy herself?

Despite his best efforts, Sam noticed. His breath wasn't fast just from the flushed heat.

"Don't be nervous." She whispered, reassuringly, her voice sweet like chocolate. "I'll make it worth your while."

They were both young, inexperienced. It was messy, quite tiring, but Sam took the lead and managed to give them a great time.

Only... Desmond worried if it was supposed to hurt like that.

Sam seemed to be enjoying the pain. It was so easy for her - she was nearing a second orgasm and he hadn't even managed to come yet. It's not like it didn't feel good - oh, his body trembled and ached with the raw sensations, and it was getting a rise out of him - he wanted more. He wanted it to keep going forever.

But it also felt like so much more than he could handle. He was overwhelmed.

He tried to stay in the moment. He looked at his girlfriend squirming under him and kissed every inch of her he could reach. He talked to her.

"S-Sam..." he panted. "I love you."

"I love you too." She answered and locked her arms around him. "I love you too, baby."

Desmond choked up a cry when he finally came. He used the last of his wits to finish off that second orgasm for her. He heard her shout and tremble, and he hovered over her for a few more seconds until he was absolutely sure she was satisfied.

Just as soon as he pulled out he collapsed into his corner of the bed.

Sam took a deep breath, shaking her head a little. "You're totally good at this." She said, with a hoarse laugh, - even though she was the most experienced of the two, and the one to ensure their good times. She sat with her back against the headboard. "You've been hiding that from me all these months? Shame on you, Dez."

It was a genuine compliment, and would've made anyone very proud. If it weren't for... the shame.

Desmond was bundled in the sheets, feeling a knot grow bigger and tighter in his throat. He didn't even want to risk breathing.

"Dez?"

He was good at staying silent. Almost too good. It was a bit scary to Sam, when he did that. It's like he disappeared in plain sight, a ghost still warm by her side.

He didn't even want to breathe - but his exhausted, flushed body forced it out of him. He coughed, and just like that, he was sobbing.

"Oh, Dez." Samantha turned to hold him.

Desmond couldn't even make sense of his feelings. Why was he crying? It felt good. Better than any he'd had before. And he loved Sam more than any girl he'd ever met. This had been his longest relationship to date, and she understood him like no one ever had. And now... that shame.

"Dez. Talk to me." Sam whispered, holding him.

"I'm s-sorry." He mumbled the words out, still shocked at his own tears. He knew that was a bad thing, a man crying over sex. It was something to be ridiculed. He knew.

"There's nothing to be sorry for. Baby, look at me." She asked. "Turn to me, please."

Desmond shifted in bed, slowly turning to her. He couldn't meet her eyes.

"Are you okay?" She asked, concerned. "Did it feel bad...? Did... did I hurt you?"

"No. It wasn't you, Sam. It felt good. And you were amazing." He admitted. "I'm sorry. It's just me."

"Those things happen, you know." Sam held a hand against his neck. Desmond could feel his own heartbeat palpitating under her skin. "It's just a reaction. It's not a bad thing."

"I'd rather you were honest than just try to make me feel better." He sighed, bitter.

"I am. Sometimes it's just a lot. Sometimes it's a lot for me too." She assured. "Hell, I cried like a baby in my first time."

Desmond thought he could believe her, if he had a few more minutes.

"Do you want me to get us some water?""

He nodded, believing some time alone might help, and watched as she got up and made her way to the kitchen.

It did the opposite His heart was feeling a little emptier now that her side of the bed was as well. Desmond sat up and wiped his tears away.

Thankfully, Sam quickly came back with a glass. She handed it to him, and watched as he drank.

"I'm not going to leave." She assured, embracing his trembling shoulders. "You'll be okay, baby. I love you."

Desmond sensed her warmth and finally mustered a smile. The kiss he shared with her in that moment felt almost more intimate than the sex itself.

"You have people you can count on." She assured. "I want to be that person for you. I want to never leave your side."

Every once in a while he would catch glances of a deeper truth in the world. Like using all five senses at the same time. In those moments, he could barely make out silvery auras of color around people. Blue was his favorite one.

In that moment, he saw a halo of distant blue around Samantha's face. And he knew he could trust her.

They stayed embraced for hours, and he slowly stopped crying. Chatting into the daylight, Desmond finally told her about his escape from his parents' house.

-----

She said she'd never leave him.

If only she had meant it.

In the course of the next two months, Samantha started acting strange. She grew distant, visiting him less and less at Bad Weather, missing his phone calls, or ignoring his e-mails. When they saw each other, they talked about trivial things, but by the end of it, it didn't get anywhere past small talk.

When Desmond finally expressed his frustrations, she broke up with him.

Heartbroken as he was, Desmond still tried giving her space. He hoped, maybe they could stay friends. But Samantha left New York not two weeks after, to go live with her mother.

Desmond didn't blame himself. For once, he understood her. There must have been something rotten she wanted to escape. There must have been a different life she wanted to live. His only regret was that they couldn't have lived it together.

But he was already tired of looking over his shoulder - for parents or relatives that might never come, trying to track him down. He wouldn't put another person through the same thing.

Desmond drowned himself into the drinks he served. It would be alright - he still had his own life to live.

He never knew the real reason she left.

And he never would.

[oddlysweet]

Daddy Issues

            My Libra father comes from a very remote village in the north-eastern corner of what some random white folks dubbed “Afghanistan” and yes, my disdain for the word comes from him.  The patriarchs of his family have been the religious scholars of the province for a millennium; as the oldest surviving male, he was teaching the Qur’an and the works of Hafez, Rumi, and other Islamic philosophers at nine years of age.  Obviously brilliant, he left home for Baghlan hundreds of miles away so that he could pursue a higher education as there were no high schools nearby.  He takes great pride in his academic achievements and when regaling the memories of a time long past, one can tell just how much of his identity was forged in the pursuit of excellence.  Having always been at the top of his school, he was offered a full-ride scholarship to the University of Tehran, where he would be studying for the next decade, becoming a Doctor of Veterinary Medicine.

            Though it might seem like he was all work and no play, each summer, after having saved up his scholarship funds by living extremely disciplined, he would make the trek back to his home, buying goods at low cost and selling them along the way back to Takhar to give money to his parents.  He would spend a few weeks there maybe, before going off on vacation to various parts of Asia and Europe, very much living his life to the fullest along with millions of other hippies.  By the time the bloodshed was to arrive in his homeland, he was almost done with his studies and had planned to go back and practice medicine in the highly agrarian society.  Those dreams were dashed when the massacres began, and his youngest brother--not even having completed high school--was conscripted and sent off to die in the foreign land of Kandahar alone, and for nothing. 

            He, like many millions of others, made his escape and found himself in Europe for a couple years before making it to southwestern United States as a political refugee seeking asylum. He found work as a vet tech and started the long, humiliating process of getting licensed as a doctor from a foreign country.  At the time, only one school in the country indulged graduates from abroad and he worked tirelessly to provide for himself and jump through more hoops in a language that was his weakest of the five or six he could speak fluently enough.  Like all Afghans in their thirties, he was feeling the pressure of procreation, and pragmatically went about to find a wife. 

When asked why he chose my Aries mother, he joked it was decided by a game of wishbone, and it was down to her or her Gemini sister.  This I would reluctantly learn was egregiously untrue given the amount of shit she talked about her and her innocent children, not to mention the schism between my parents has a name and it is my only aunt--and by extension--the entirety of the maternal side of my tree. Years later when I was old enough, I would learn he married my mother because her own mother came from a relatively close place to where he grew up, counting on future resonance and harmony given an undoubtedly similar set of cultural values and upbringing.  It also helped that the first time he went inquiring to my grandmother’s household, my mother came home exhausted from work, sat down at the tablecloth, and proceeded to wolf down three heaping, delicious servings without a care in the world so he took it as sign that he would never go hungry.

They eventually married on the condition that they would live far from her family and moved to Arizona.  On the night of their wedding--which was a triple wedding with one of her brothers and her sister��my father, who had drunk his share of alcohol in his travels, offered my mother her first sip, some celebratory champagne.  The last thing she remembers is bringing the glass to her lips, and as my father puts, promptly went out like a lamp.  In the nights to come she would complain about the stink on his breath and told him that he would not be sleeping in her bed if he was drinking, so he gave it up and never looked back.  This was the beginning of many compromises he would make for his wife, not that this one was anything he would ruminate and tear himself up over for decades to come. 

While studying for exams, language proved to be more of a barrier than he initially thought, and with my mother’s biological clock ticking down (but not really, at the age of 31) he caved to her impatience, and they decided to drag me out of bliss and foist me upon a time and world that would never be ready for me.  This highly accomplished man--literally one in a million--a polymath with no limits to his intellect, gave up his licensing aspirations and bought a landscaping business for 500$ in the classifieds the year I was born, eventually moving into a small apartment a block away from his in-laws.

I am sure given that he had no family of his own--all his siblings were stuck in desolate nightmare where the rivers ran red—that when I was born, all the loneliness and suffering became worth it.  I can only speak from my experience, but the relationship the parents from my diaspora have with their children is extremely charged and morbid.  Their own lives cease to exist the moment we take our first breaths, and every action and thought derives from the urgent need for the safety, security, and success of their offspring.  There are times when I would get sick and in turn, he himself would come down with illness, or back aches. He worked extremely hard, to the admiration of all my family, and went on to purchase a house with a half-acre where my brother and I would spend our formative years, a couple hours away from the nearest relatives. 

I would bounce from school to school in my pre-adolescence and be uprooted before my slow-warming awkward self would begin to make friends or feel like anything other than an overly sensitive, misunderstood outsider.  This would be another regret he would beat himself up over, cursing his compromises to keep his wife happy--who traumatized, like every other Afghan who made it out--clearly needed her family.  For as long as I can remember, my parents had their hearts set for me to attend the most prestigious public school in the East Bay, although the moves closer every few years were justified by cutting my father’s three to four hours daily commute down significantly. 

Near the end of junior high, I was closer to my father as I would ever be, in the sense that I was within the top percentile of an underfunded, overcrowded school of thousands.  Despite my identity crises and the demolition of the towers (which served as a baptism of sorts, being the day that my time here had truly begun,) I was making strides, and almost felt good enough to indulge in that which I always knew in my heart to be my raison d’etre, the sharing of the very same organ.  Of course, we would move again and my father’s pride in me would be extremely short lived as this new school, in a city of one square mile, had consistently tested high in offered a 96% university acceptance rate to its students, the majority of whom were classmates since preschool.  I struggled to fit in obviously and adopted a friend to many but tribe of one kind of existence; barely keeping up with the higher standards and pace of a place in such demand that admission was limited to only those who could afford the impacted property tax rate of the miniscule municipality.

Life began to make itself known to me and my inability to get through the days with an acceptable enough fake smile and submissive attitude towards my progenitors was especially unacceptable.  It wasn’t just the random undeserved beatings anymore, although I did decide I wasn’t going to be hit anymore, by my mother or my father, and started hitting back.  They started drug testing me, which wounded our relationship beyond anything they’ll ever be able to realize, and they forced me on SSRI’s, another thing he regrets immensely when he’s romanticizing his life and mistakes but is quick to point out in the same breath that I am mentally ill, sick beyond redemption and a mistake to put it lightly.  I remember being 14 and finally unburdening myself of the sexual trauma that occurred under his nose ten years prior, which I internalized and began to understand was the catalyst of my social anxieties and disappearing smile, but he just wrote it off and suggested I was depressed and needed medication.  They wouldn’t make it official, fearing for their reputations of producing a fucked-up kid, and getting me diagnosed, instead they went to family and slipped me drugs now proven to quadruple the chances of developing Alzheimer’s under the table.

The 12-year-old child who left home to ascend over mountains of mediocrity would stand at the top of the stairs with his phone ready to call 911 as he shut the power to our home erasing all the work I was barely managing to submit to get the A’s—now B’s, that they greedily expected.  Once I decided I had enough of the theft of my being, I stopped taking their poison and we had the inevitable blowout loud enough for them to give up on me, I foolishly admitted to the swine arrived to fuck up the day that I no longer wanted to live.  Four times, these two traumatized survivors completely out of their depth--who never deserved to have each other let alone two kids--did the unforgivable and brought a useless property-protecting, slave-hunting band of inferiority complexes into my home to cart me off to a mental institution. 

I barely survived high school, and when I did get into the two nearest UC’s aside from Cal, my first choice which I pissed away the follow up application--fresh out the hospital, my mind addled on their drug regimen--I chose the wrong one, farthest from my home and didn’t speak to my father for half the year until the day he drove down to pick me and my things up, having admitted defeat that I wasn’t cut out for it.  They may blame my washing out on my newly found crutch of cannabis, which they sabotaged my experience with for years before I ever tried it, but I was completely adrift and unhealthy, falling below 150lbs for my 6ft stature, and just weeks away from full-blown auditory hallucinations.

In the many years since dropping out, I’ve made great strides to become the person I always imagined I could be.  I’ve found some amazing friends, learned a lot of hard lessons, and cultivated a more balanced, well-rounded personality and demeanor.  My calming energy might just be my double-Virgoan, quadruple-earth primary placements but I think it is in the innate desire to be good, to do good, ponder deeply, see clearly that my naturally healing and wondrous energy gets noticed by those few I expose myself to—but if I’m being completely honest, I could do without all the heroin addicts that flock to me, for so many reasons, which I’ll get into some other time. 

Ever since I expressed the desire to cultivate my own cannabis ten years ago, I have been viewed as a junkie in my father’s eyes.  Strange considering where he comes from is responsible for most of the genetics we have today, progressive as he may seem, I guess wanting to become self-sufficient and reduce the bad karma involved with scoring “drugs” off the street is where he draws the line.  At least he hasn’t disowned my brother for being less than heterosexual…though I think there’s a fair amount of denial and hoping it’s just a phase involved. 

In the times since our first period of silence, it has repeated half a dozen times.  Since that time, I can count on my hands the phases of happiness to contrast with my perpetual low that is my normal and most those times, it was me realizing I could make a life for myself unfettered by the guilt of capitalism and all the unnatural things we do to seek some semblance of financial stability.  Living with friends and trapping, selling my hard work to people looking for a little relief at universally low prices, I was providing a public service rather than emulating your favorite rapper.  I remember leaving from drops with a genuine grin shared privately with the cosmos and whatever innocent bystander that happened to bear witness the live giving smile they would momentarily fall in love with skating by.  Unbeknownst to them I was realizing just how similar I was to my father; being my own boss, carrying my own destiny in my hands, adding some temporary escape to people’s day from a world rife with suffering and convolution, and detachment--not unlike the serenity one feels when drinking tea in a garden he had a hand in. 

I had so many plans for my path and this plant—not that I would devote my entire being to it forever like he unrealistically feared, but just a means to start the rest of my life, without the burden of funding genocide, working for the man, or filling the pockets of those undeserving of my time and energies.  By doing something that incorporated all my being into a craft, to allow me to become the artist I know I am, to no longer have a “habit” that costs me hundreds of dollars a week and counting or thousands of hours of my youth I’ll never get back, serving my brethren of the plant to offset my own expenses.  Suffice it so say it’s all but a pipedream now, like everything else, the window has closed, and capitalism and greed won, like they always do. 

Our time together is growing short and the day we are to throw him in a ditch per his dying wish becomes more of a reality.  Whether he in control of his faculties or not at that point is an ever-looming, snowballing question.  I quit my dead-end service job and went back to school in earnest.  When that wasn’t enough, I got a job in a laboratory, earning my first non-minimum wage rate.  Once the War on Hugs broke out, I moved up here to MAGA country to steward the decades neglected land of his retirement, with his blessing to finally begin to provide for myself.  I have had my hands tied behind my back at every possible juncture.  I’m not sure whether it’s him teetering on the precipice of dementia or a deep-rooted shame that a plant has kept his first-born son alive better than any lies he told him.  Make no mistake, without the love and acceptance this plant offered me in my darkest times, I would have taken my own life long ago.  This attempt to grow a humble garden to last all year is one of the few remaining ways a father and his son could have anything to do with each other—I’m not bringing any grandchildren home anytime soon. 

The man hasn’t lifted a finger, has not educated himself on any laws or scientific findings.  He is obstinate in his hatred for my love of this plant.  I feel as though in one of the few relationships that truly matters, no progress has been made—no more so when forced to look into the malice in his eyes on his unforgiving face, red with the frustrations of a man who will not accept what he can’t control, brandishing a log that would surely kill me if he struck my head, with a cellphone dialing 911—not one month ago.  What a fucking waste.  What good is sacrificing everything for one’s family, doing anything and everything under the moon to provide what you think they need if you never do a single thing they ask?

My mother and father have not spoken to each other for most of this year, and that spiteful silence was only broken when my mother started the asylum paperwork for as many of his family members that were able to escape the returning hell on earth of the Taliban.  So much capacity for love this woman has within her, it is no surprise to me why I fall in love with larger-than-life women, the kind of character legends are made from.  She has been my rock and my tether my whole life, and really stepped out of her comfort zone in attempts to understand and support me.  It is only dreading her sorrow and the cries of my four-legged children and less so the fading flame of creating my own that I can’t begin to ideate the irrevocable.  He has strung her along for years about buying a home without stairs that they with their destroyed backs, can both die in.  Instead opted to buy four dumps in an unlivable area where he can generate income as a landlord so they can in his words, “provide for the family.”

What family? Ours is a farce; he has no sons, no friends, no life, and he will most likely die alone.  I am not ignorant of the tremendous sacrifice, the obvious great lengths he went to provide for us, but in most ways, it was time and energy wasted.  Neither my brother or I have any desire to become landlords, or owners of properties to have a faceless corporation to manage as we are both fundamentally opposed to the concept of rent.  It blows my mind how much of myself I see in him, and it’s even more heartbreaking when he is so insistent on misunderstanding and dismissing two of the only three people who ever loved him.  Before we took our own hiatus this year, he bore his soul to me, explaining, now that I was old enough, all the behind the scenes to his marriage and our upbringing.  I have never felt so bad for a person; I could barely listen without falling to the floor wailing.  In his admissions and unburdening I saw what comes hand in hand with the three men in my family’s extraordinary intelligence, and it almost seems inescapable.  I do it enough in my own mind, but it was tragically disheartening to witness a man in his seventies try and retrace his steps, obviously leaving pieces of himself behind in compromise stuck in moments he was doomed to regret forever. 

With all his capacity for love, not even being able to witness the slaughter of the animals he foisted under my care—it is inconceivable how cruelly he tramples upon my dreams.  Every single argument I’ve ever had, I know will be revisited upon me should I ever meet my son—despite my sincere desire to stop the traumatic and karmic cycles.  We’ve both said unforgivable things to each other. Devout and pious though he is, he harbors unacceptable malice towards the blood of my mother—half of me.  I do not understand how a person can consider themselves godly all the while placing the sins of the father on their children.  Even the Prophet (SWT) forgave the murderer of his uncle who mutilated his body.  It breaks my heart that although this man set the bar so high that I can’t even glimpse it anymore, is becoming less and less a role model, a man I should aspire to emulate and surpass, and more and more an example of whom I don’t want to end up like, an example of what not to be.  He gave his life for us, but lost his way in the details, and we all know who lives there. 

Truth be told, I probably will relent at some point down the line, despite my adamancy that this was the last time, that there was no coming back from this, because I need his approval, and as much as I’ve wanted to be done with it, need him to be proud of me--despite our obviously 99% toxic relationship.  I know it would make my mother happy, and the meetings with the other side of my family I never had a little less awkward—or introducing my wife to where I come from…but I can’t be the useless, incompetent, waste of life he makes me feel to be.  I have so many mountains to climb before I can find my own soul mate--and be sure to understand, it will never be anything less than seeking out who was meant for me and not some practical weighing of options in a small diaspora—so many leaps and bounds of growth I must struggle and endure before I think to bring a life into this world to subject to all that I am, thorns and blossoms and everything else that comes with a man doing his best. 

[ikkaku-of-heart]

@abyssusinvo​ asked: (Bonnie) - Crossing one high heeled foot over the other Bonnie sipped leisurely at her glass of pink margarita. She wasn't looking to run the bar out of it's food supply -at least not yet- but it was hosting a girl's night out and she just had to take the opportunity to get away from the boys. Her crew meant well they really did, but sometimes a little time away could do her some good.

She does turn to look at the main entrance upon hearing someone enter and lo and behold a woman with luscious curls walked into the neon lit room. It was hard at first to tell what intrigued her about the woman until she spotted a certain crews jolly Roger tucked into the fabric of her outfit. Not quite claiming too boldly who she sailed with, but also not objecting being noticed. One last look over and she turned back to her drink only to anticipate when the woman would approach the bar so she'd pull her into a small chat.

" So, Trafalgar finally got himself a woman on his crew? Shoulda done it sooner."

Unprompted

It wasn’t often Ikkaku got to go out to the bar on her own. Usually she joined the whole crew at the tavern or a few of the boys came out with her, but she’d been working hard for the past few weeks finishing a new defensive measure for the Polar Tang and Law had felt she deserved a break. He’d reluctantly given her permission to break the buddy system rule he kept in place so she could attend a local ladies night, allowing it to be her reward but with the caveat that she leave the second there was even a whiff of trouble and that he and the boys would be drinking at another bar nearby if she needed them.

Such protective measures might seem a bit extreme to most, but Ikkaku knew that Law’s paranoia wasn’t completely unfounded and he would have these same rules in place had it been one of the guys. So, pleased that she had backup if necessary and thrilled at the chance to get dolled up, the engineer put together an outfit sure to turn heads - a low-cut halter top with Law’s jolly roger embroidered over her heart, a pair of tight, low-rise jeans, black high-heeled boots, and a matching leather jacket with a heart bedazzled across the back. It was an outfit designed to turn heads, but Ikkaku had hardly expected one of those heads to belong to Jewelry Bonney. She was a rookie like Law, but had already been making quite the name for herself. There weren’t too many female pirate captains on the Grand Line, and her powers certainly stood out with how unique they were.

Hopefully Ikkaku wouldn’t piss her off enough to use those powers on her. She rather liked being of legal age to drink and she didn’t fancy becoming an old crone yet, either.

“I’ve been around for a while,” Ikkaku stated, though she took no offense to the other woman not knowing. After all, an engineer’s place was typically below deck, not in the thick of battle. Even when Law involved her in his plans she was usually working behind the scenes. She hardly minded not being in the spotlight with her captain; Bepo, Penguin, and Shachi could have it. She was just happy to be there on the open sea. “Law just knows it’s best to not risk something happening to his mechanic in a battle or something. We can’t all be badass fighters who can make Marines cry like literal babies,” she added, giving Bonney a little grin. Now that was something she could always get behind - beating and humiliating the Navy in new and creative ways.

Glancing at the cocktail specials posted behind the bar, Ikkaku ordered a Tipsy Mermaid before turning fully to face her. “Still, no matter her role, it’s nice to see women kicking ass in what’s typically considered a man’s field.” Sticking out her hand, she offered, “Ikkaku of the Heart Pirates. Pleased to meet you.”

[crazy-economics]

The result of the Fed's interest rate cut may be China's counterattack

This week, the Federal Reserve finally cut interest rates by 50 basis points. The result of the U.S. choosing to cut interest rates is not surprising, but the extent of the rate cut exceeded many expectations. Even so, the Fed may continue to cut interest rates twice in their final two meetings this year. And they envision four more rate cuts in 2025 and 2026. If this situation continues, it will likely negatively impact the U.S. financial market and cause the Renminbi (RMB) to continue to strengthen. Notably, it is even possible that the U.S. will be "harvested" by China in reverse.

The Sino-US financial clashes may change direction.

Over the past half-century, relying on a series of "advantages" such as autocratic politics, the whole-nation system, and unfair competition, China has developed rapidly in the fields of economy, and science and technology. However, China's bandit development logic over the years has also caused extreme dissatisfaction among most democratic countries in the world.

In 2018, under the impetus of the Trump administration, Western countries, led by the United States, launched a "financial war" against China. Since the U.S. holds the most powerful dollar weapon, China has been in a very passive position from the very beginning. However, it is unrealistic for the U.S. to defeat communist China in one fell swoop. Rather, the competition between major powers is often a long-standing game, which depends not only on who has the bigger fist but also on who has a stronger determination. Therefore, a curtain of a long-term game between the U.S. and China has been raised. However, it was unexpected that just after a few years, the U.S. macro-economy was in trouble itself.

On the one hand, the U.S. has experienced severe inflation, which requires the Fed to raise interest rates; but on the other hand, U.S. debt has hit new highs, breaking through the $35 trillion mark at the end of July, leaving the U.S. facing huge debt pressure. Therefore, to halt the debt pressure from continuing to soar, interest rates must be lowered. It can be said that currently U.S. has been at a crossroads for a long time in recent years, confronting the dilemma of, raising interest rates is not feasible, and lowering interest rates is also not right.

U.S. may lose the dominant position in the US-China "competition".

The United States has long been a dominant position in the global financial and capital universe, largely because it holds the powerful "weapon" of the dollar. But currently, as the U.S. debt pressure rises, many countries are promoting a "multi-currency" settlement system under the active advocacy of China, and the original advantages of the dollar are being eroded by China bit by bit. In August, as soon as the news of the Fed's upcoming interest rate cut was released, just within a week, RMB rose by more than 1,000 basis points. It can be said that the losses suffered by the RMB due to the U.S. interest rate hike in the past few years, were all compensated this time.

Therefore, if the Fed continues to cut interest rates, the advantage that the US dollar has accumulated over the years will disintegrate more quickly. Paradoxically, the continuous increase in U.S. interest rates has even caused the U.S. ally Japan to suffer a lot. Since 2024, YEN's exchange rate has fallen wildly, reaching 160:1 at one point, setting a new low in 38 years. Since Japan has maintained a low-interest or even zero-interest monetary policy for quite a long time, thus investors have invested in the U.S. market massively, causing a large amount of capital outflow from Japan.

China is about to reap the US in reverse.

First, when the dollar depreciates, capital suddenly becomes the most mischievous troublemaker - they are likely to go to other places to find better investment returns, such as China. On paper, capital is profit-seeking, and they will go wherever the profit is higher. After the dollar depreciates, more dollar funds would tend to flow into China.

Second, if the RMB appreciates due to the U.S. interest rate cut, it will boost the real purchasing power of Chinese consumers, which will substantially minimize the Chinese people's dissatisfaction with the government.

Third, there is a deeper "currency war" brewing behind the scenes. More recently, the dollar's global dominance caused other countries across the globe to offload dissatisfaction onto the dollar. In other words, the U.S. monetary policy has also reinforced China's ability to challenge the United States to a certain extent.

Fourth, although the depreciation of the dollar might result in the sluggish export of China, the appreciation of the RMB may bring China more bargaining chips in the global game as well.

For the moment, at least, although inflation in the United States has slowed down, the labor market is still somewhat destabilizing. This still shows that the macroeconomic situation of the United States is still not very optimistic. Under such circumstances, the turmoil brought about by this wave of interest rate cuts in the United States may objectively open up more strategic opportunities for China. Therefore, in the coming year, any minor strategic mistake in the United States monetary policy is likely to lead to a fierce and fatal counterattack from China, which has been eyeing it for a long time.

[linguiniroll]

October 20th 2024

I was quite intentional about the type of therapist I wanted to sign up with. I wanted my therapist to be a man. A man that’s successful in multiple ways, a man who is fit (as in a clear disciplined gym goer), believes in god/spiritual, financially wealthy, a family man and objectively good looking. This was near impossible as a therapist but found a service where there are listed ‘life coaches’ instead but with therapist backgrounds but had more of a tough edge instead of traditional coddling. You can also view and see their socials and work to back it up. Their demographic is mostly men but there are some women that have signed up, me being one.

That list what not to distract for the reason of a crush or anything stupid and artificial like that, but because I want to genuinely learn from a seasoned man about where in my past I have gone wrong in different areas of my life. Where I can understand the opposite sex better without a female bias lens. One of the goals alongside the other reasons for why signing back up to therapy, is for July and general housekeeping.

I am a few sessions in now so he’s knows a fair bit. I haven’t cried in therapy much despite how many therapists I’ve tried in the past. However, the latest session with him I did. I acknowledged I struggle with being impulsive and there was a moment where I let my emotions get the better of me and started a confrontation with X over something silly, despite backing down shortly after and apologising when X called me out on being extreme (rightly so), it still caused escalated confrontation due to his upset and was used as part reasoning for the breakup two weeks later which I’ve been holding blame for.

My coach listened, took a pause before responding and said something so monumental. He said (our sessions are recorded so this is near accurate)

“Davina, you might have had a bratty emotionally reactive response, you might have apologised, but that will mean nothing to a man who hasn’t developed selfless emotional intelligence.

Around that time you were not only dealing with the insecurity of a job loss which also created financial insecurity, you were home alone, you had a relative with incurable cancer, you got attacked by two men, got Covid, couldn’t sleep properly due to anxiety, your boyfriend was spending more time being there for new developing relations. It wasn’t a ‘silly’ reaction, you were desperate for any sign of care and selfless affection from him. You were having a normal human reaction to a series of events which was absolutely not a reflection of your personality and core values. He failed as a man to safely respond to your emotional state. To the one person who has been there for him through all his lows and used those couple of weeks as an excuse to neglect you. To justify pinpointing negative blips that any power relationship has to convince himself you’re incompatible. Do you realise how pathetic that is? Your paths crossed when you were 22 and he was 23 and he’s about to turn 29 and now conveniently discovers you’re not compatible? That he needs to be single to focus on a career? That’s not a man, that’s a boy. Any man that tries to act noble by saying you deserve better to a woman is a cop out because they’re selfish beings at their core.

Again, this is not a reflection of you but an entire reflection of him. HE failed, not you, show more grace. No man who is finally on an upwards trajectory while his woman who has supported him through his trenches over the years, and is now going through her trenches, should use that new high of his to build them both back up. He was on a rise while you got floored from an unexpected hit and he abandoned you to nurture his own wants. Let him. If you’re going to cry and be heartbroken, make sure it’s over a man and not one who is just pretending to be one”

Anyway, that’s not even all of it, but needless to say I shut up and sat there angrily silently sobbing.

Bonus tough love things he said which is helping take X off a pedestal but also made me chuckle:

- “who the fuck does a heart chakra meditation and uses that as an excuse to act heartless?” (He cooked with this)

- “you’re telling me that he agreed to not venting to his younger male friend who hasn’t been in a similar situation, to then telling a 46 year old man who got out of a 14 year old relationship due to being cheated on who also doesn’t know you or your relationship history with each other and believed he wouldn’t have a bias? Even if subconscious? After meeting him once?! The daddy issues are strong here.”

- “Davina, what the fuck”

- “Davina, every time you defend his actions and try to show grace to what he’s done in the past, you’re allowing a stab to yourself. I know you still care about him, but he didn’t care about you then and doesn’t care about you now, enough”

- “there’s a word for that type of behaviour, it’s called being gullible”

- “anyone who makes fun of someone and labels it as a joke is not an intellectual”

- “peeling you an orange without asking him is a bare minimum”

- “defend him for ‘feeling pressure’ and make an excuse for his actions one more time and I’ll fire you as my client. I’ve felt pressure and didn’t abandon my wife when she was struggling. You’ve felt pressure and didn’t abandon him while he was struggling. He felt pressure while you were struggling and where is he now?”

- “I have coached men like this, I have been friends with men like this, I have been in business with men like this. It might not seem like it now, but it is a good thing he let you go. Women like you don’t need to be with unhealed narcissists”

- “I know you’re confused. Mindfuck is an understandable result of this behaviour. I’m sorry you’re going through this”

- “No, it’s not that you were inadequate. It was that he suffers shiny object syndrome. You were roughed up and in a hard season. He had dangling carrots in front of him. Of course he left. You were a reminder of the dark parts of him he wanted to avoid. He wants to lean into what makes him feel good”

- “Your relationship was full of love and laughter despite the bad moments. It is not your fault he became numb and shut that part out and only focused on the negative without wanting to try cure it before ending it. Let that be his curse, not yours”

- “any person who lacks the skill of introspection and discernment and relies on podcasts, self help books and others solely is not mature”

- “highly competitive people are some of the most insecure people because they thrive off external validation of looking like winners”

- “being single often seems more peaceful as we don’t have someone calling us out our bullshit”

- “you paid for your own birthday lunch with him in the same summer he bought Calvin Klein shirts? Don’t try to defend it by saying he was in school and deserves to treat himself”

- “you’re allowed to be sad for two more sessions and then it’s go time”

- “if you haven’t increased your handstand hold by 5 seconds by next session, reschedule it”

Cheers to not being an avoidant and confronting the healing process I guess 💪🏽💀❤️‍🩹

[ailtrahq]

On-chain data shows the Ethereum daily active addresses indicator has recently registered its second-highest spike. Ethereum Daily Active Addresses Has Observed A Sharp Spike Recently According to data from the on-chain analytics firm Santiment, the active addresses metric only achieved a higher value in December 2022. The “daily active addresses” indicator measures the daily total number of unique Ethereum blockchain addresses that interact in some way. This metric naturally accounts for both senders and receivers. Note that “unique” means that even if an address makes several transactions in a single day, its contribution towards the active addresses metric will remain just one unit. The benefit of this restriction is that unique addresses can be considered analogous to unique users, so the indicator’s value can provide hints about the amount of traffic the ETH blockchain has received during the past day. When the metric has a high value, many users are now interacting with the network. This can signify that the traders are actively interested in making moves on the asset. Now, here is a chart that shows the trend in the Ethereum daily active addresses over the past few months: Looks like the value of the metric has been quite high in recent days | Source: Santiment on X As displayed in the above graph, the Ethereum daily active addresses indicator has seen a value of more than one million during the past day. This would imply that more than a million users have just made a move on the blockchain. This is an extremely high value and is, in fact, the second highest that the metric has observed in the eight years or so of the cryptocurrency’s history. The all-time high of the indicator (that is, the only time the indicator had been higher) was registered on December 9, 2022. Interestingly, back then, Ethereum had been in the post-FTX crash lows, and as it has turned out, that period was the bear market bottom for the asset. It’s possible that the sudden reignition of interest in the coin was what helped it hit the bottom and gear up for the rally that would start in January 2023. During the past few months, the indicator’s value has remained relatively low as investors have held low interest in the asset. With this latest spike, though, things have changed in a flash. Suppose the example of the December active addresses spike is anything to go by. In that case, Ethereum may be able to turn itself around off the back of this latest elevation in user activity. ETH Price Ethereum has continued to show overall flat movement during the past week as ETH is still trading around $1,600. ETH has bounced quickly from its lows | Source: ETHUSD on TradingView Source

[drawingconclusions]

AN ANTI-CHRISTIAN SOCIETY

My intent today isn't to conjecture as to why the transgender woman killed both kids and adults at the Covenant School in Nashville this week. As I previously stated, the investigation is still ongoing and I prefer to wait before commenting in that regard.

In the past few days, I've only perused in-depth news about the shooting, but I have noticed that for some reason, the story in the mainstream media is quickly becoming just a blip in the news cycle. Strange, since certain mass shootings are usually given wall-to-wall coverage in America. Why the reduced coverage in some cases? Is it because the shooter was a transgender woman? Or is it because the victims were Christians? Does it not fit the typical narrative espoused by the mainstream media?

And I'm extremely disappointed at President Biden's response to the shooting. For some reason, our Comforter-In-Chief just happens to be a bit too jovial when addressing the topic, dishing out jokes & platitudes before or during the occasion. Not too surprising, since Biden's Department of Justice and FBI have routinely targeted, arrested, and charged Catholic believers for legally protesting at abortion clinics. And given the fact that Biden didn't even visit the conservative-leaning city of East Palestine, Ohio after the spewed toxins resulting from Norfolk Southern's intentional burning of chemicals there, it's pretty clear that some people such as Trump-voters or people of faith aren't really a high priority for the current administration.

In the aftermath of the mass shooting at Covenant School, one radical transgender group gave half-hearted condolences, and then launched into a rant about how (…the following is paraphrased…) the media need to get the shooter's pronouns correct, people of faith & others are spreading hate against transgender people, and the group even began to excuse the shooter to some extent, saying her act of violence was the only way for her to get attention. Granted, I don't believe all transgender people would agree with their statements, but it's slightly unbelievable that just after people have been slaughtered & murdered at a Christian school, this transgender group would still decide to play the victims. Completely unbelievable! However as a Christian, it's my job to forgive those who wrong me. And simply because I believe marriage is a God-ordained covenant between a man & a woman and I believe that the issue of gender was decided by God at creation, that doesn't mean I hate you. I don't. I'm called to show Christ-like love to you and I'll pray for you. Disagreement doesn't imply malice.

Unfortunately, too many in America's society don't seem to understand this concept. I briefly mentioned the local police helicopter, and in the days following the mass shooting in Tennessee, they have again showed up frenetically 3 times when I was set to go out, again showing deep familiarity with my schedule and comings & goings. The military helicopter has done the same in other instances and I've also been tracked by military jets before. (One notable instance was when 2 military jets waited until I stepped outside and literally buzzed me while I was serving as a caregiver last year!) And I've already posted the video of the psychotic behavior of the low-flying Cessna plane (which I believe was the FBI) which sought to intimidate me right after I commented here on the botched Afghanistan withdrawal. Apparently, the local police, FBI, DNI, and active-duty military see me as one of the greatest threats to America. Is it because I defended Trump at one point? Is it because I lean conservative in the political spectrum? Is it because I call out their corruption? Or is it because I'm a Christian? It can't be on account that I'm a bona-fide criminal, because if I was, I wouldn't have been able to renew items such as my driver's license or passport. (They usually check for outstanding warrants when you do so…)

My point is that believers need to see that America has been trending towards anti-Christian sentiment for a number of years now. It has come from the far left, from the mainstream media, and it will even come from government & authorities, both local and federal. You can see it in places like Arizona where a city council has decided to stop accepting graduates from a local Christian college as employees/teachers. You can see it happening in Canada where some police have no qualms about arresting pastors who violate so-called lockdown restrictions or who peacefully protest Drag Shows for kids. You can see it happening in Europe where a misguided prosecutor in Finland insists on making it a crime to distribute or post Bible scriptures that contradict cultural beliefs.

Of course, I don't intend for Christians to live in fear. Instead, I admonish you to fear no darkness in the coming days and years ahead. Our eternal victory with Christ has already been assured, and God still moves on behalf of His people as He did in days of old. However, please don't be naïve about what society has become. Paul wrote in Philippians 3:18 about certain false teachers in his day who weren't really Christians: "many live as enemies of the cross" (NIV) What he wrote centuries ago is still highly applicable today. Some people hate us simply for what we stand for and what we believe. They detest the fact that the mere mention of Christians reminds them of the concept of morality. And they even hate the God we serve and consequently hate anyone associated with Him. Realize that if you speak (or even live) against the grain of today's culture, you will face opposition and a host of people will do their best to silence you. (Yes, that happens in America today.) I wholeheartedly agree with Chinese dissident & artist Ai Wei Wei who stated that we already live in an authoritarian society in America. The question I pose to Christians is whether they'll deny their faith when the pressure comes or whether they'll rise to the occasion in a noble manner, fearless in the face of threats and persecution.

[On a side note: Interestingly, in the time I've written this second post, the local military jets suddenly ramped up their exercises (fortunately for the safety of the neighborhood, not at close range), another surveillance plane has been making steady rounds (from the engine sound, this may be the military radar plane that often crosses my path, but I don't have time to verify this today), and a Cessna plane (again, possibly FBI) suddenly began circling briefly at 5-minute intervals! Apparently I hit a nerve with the corrupt with what I've written here! Look, Senator Schumer once infamously said if you mess with the intel agencies, etc., they'll "get you seven ways from Sunday". (Actually, today's Wednesday, but I digress…) Two things about that: 1) I've had visions of my future and it's exceedingly bright. If God is pleased with me and decides to bring those things to pass, no one can stop His good purposes. The doors that He opens, no one can shut. And well, if He doesn't bring it to pass, I'm still His forever. 2) Since when do the intel agencies or any other government agency, for that matter, exist for their own pleasure, instead of being accountable to the citizens of America?]

[kratomkittycat]

Journal entry 03/05/2023 -“How am I feeling now without kratom extracts??”

How do I feel now without kratom extract?

I have been without kratom extract since Wednesday night. Before I got put on suboxone, almost every time I tried to even just take a tolerance break, I would only last a few hours without kratom extract. This is because I would feel dreadful about a kratomless day, be in an awful mood, and crave it intensely.

When I was taking kratom extract, I didn’t have a set number of times I would take it each day, but it averaged around 5 times a day. Each time I would take it, I would feel the “good effects” for about an hour and a half, then the bad effects set in.

The bad effects made me worn out, exhausted, and feel very sick. They would usually last approximately 2 and a half hours. It was very hard to do even basic things when I had the bad effects.

When I was having the good effects, however, I felt like I was finally the person I never realized I always wanted to be. And then when they were gone, I felt like I couldn’t find happiness in anything.

I tried to not dose more often than every 4 hours. Sometimes I could last longer than 4 hours. But sometimes, I took a dose 2 or 3 hours after my last one. In between doses, I was unhappy and craving my next dose.

Then when my next dose kicked in, I felt like I was finally the person I wanted to be again, but I still had moments of deep sadness just acknowledging that the effects don’t last forever and there will be many moments where I will feel my feelings sober.

Here is a message I sent someone when I was using kratom extract:

“I never told anyone this but earlier I got sad when I was high on kratom extract and I think it’s because I knew that it wears off and doesn’t last forever. Even though I knew I could literally re-dose every 4 hours or more, just the idea of moments without the feeling made me sad.

But the concerning things is, that lately I’ve been having more and more moments of this deep horrible sadness.”

Flash forward to now-

I have been without kratom extract since Wednesday night and on Suboxone since Thursday. I still experience sadness, but overall I noticed that I feel better than I did when I was in active kratom addiction.

I don’t have to take suboxone 5 times a day. I don’t get the “bad effects” of fatigue and being sick when it’s wearing off. I don’t even crave kratom extract so intensely that it’s painful, which is an achievement that I never thought was possible in the past. My mood is also pretty much the same throughout the day, which is a big relief coming from someone who experienced the intense highs and lows I did during kratom addiction.

But there are still challenges and painful things about this process, regardless of finally realizing how bad of a place I was in during kratom extract addiction.

I am no longer in “a moment of silence” feel my true emotions coming back. Being myself and feeling my true feelings is something that I was raised to believe is wrong and that I need to change from autistic to neurotypical. It’s become very hard to cope with the fact that I will never be neurotypical, and that the hate I experienced and continue to experience from others for that won’t ever go away.

And even though my highs and my lows aren’t the extremes they were with kratom extract, I still get sad. The moments of sadness are hard to deal with without wanting to be high.

Moving forward, I will continue to practice healthy coping strategies to deal with the sadness and other challenging emotions, so that getting high won’t be the only answer. And I will write down my Roses and Buds for each day. I hope that when I keep practicing it will work, and I will update my therapist on my progress each week. I will go to my recovery support groups every Thursday, and try AA Meetings starting this week.

[housefastinseattle]

A complete guide for sellers of your house

That was the genesis of Kribbz, the real estate company I've been building for the past couple of years. It's a platform that uses blockchain, the safest and most secure way to store data -- transactions are immutable and indisputable. In the near future, my hope is that it will remove all necessity for forking over a 6% real estate commission just to sell your home. But today, right here and right now, there are other ways to sell your home quickly. No, it's not instantaneous like the platform we're building. It's a bit slower than that. Yet, if you play your proverbial cards right, there are methods and techniques you can use to get the most bang for the so-called buck. Again, it all depends on your definition of fast. Can you sell your home as fast as you can order an Uber? Not yet at least. But you can sell it moderately quickly. Here's how.

Most home sellers dream of a stress-free sale in which they simply list their house, quickly find a qualified buyer, collect the cash and hand over the keys. If only it were that simple! In reality, selling a home involves many moving parts — some that you can control, and some that are out of your hands. For example, geography might influence how long your house lingers on the market or how much mark-up you can get away with. Where competition is high and inventory is low, odds are you’ll sell faster and command a higher price. Conversely, in places where home sales have cooled, homeowners will likely have to work harder to attract the right buyer. Please go here to this link https://www.sellmyhousecompany.com/ and get more tips for How to sell your house.

Decide how you’re going to sell: Choosing how you’re going to sell dictates every other aspect of the process, from the selling strategy to the cost of selling the home, and the preparation you’ll need to do. In the digital age, sellers no longer need to list their homes with a real estate agent—you have options. But, it’s important to weigh the pros and cons to determine the best fit for your circumstances. Here’s a checklist of things to do before listing your home: Research and interview real estate agents, Declutter, perhaps move excess items to a storage unit, Get an optional home inspection to identify any issues, Schedule repairs if needed, Deep clean, Stage the house, Have professional photos taken.

Determine your asking price: Pricing your home requires a balance between personal expectations and market conditions. How you price your home can mean the difference between an offer and weeks or even months on the market. Online tools can provide an estimate of your home’s value. The traditional way to value a home is to manually select a few comparable homes or “comps” that have recently sold in your area. It’s extremely difficult to find a perfect match so you, or your agent, will need to make adjustments. For example, if your home has three bedrooms but a comp has four, how much would the comp have sold if it had three? This gets even more challenging with features like pools, vaulted ceilings, and a mountain view.

Market and list your home: If you work with a real estate agent, he or she will list your home on the MLS database and (typically) market your home by doing the following: Coordinating professional photographs, Posting signage in the yard, Hosting a broker/agent showing, Organizing an open house, Choosing the for sale by owner option means the owner does all of the above. The most important part is getting the home onto the MLS, which feeds other real estate search engines.

Set a timeline for selling your home: Selling a house is a major undertaking that can take two to four months from start to finish — or much longer, depending on local market conditions and the level of inventory available. As soon as you decide to sell your house, jump right into researching real estate agents to find someone with the right experience for your situation. At least two or three months before you plan to list, consider getting a pre-sale home inspection (more on that below!) to identify any problem areas, especially structural or mechanical issues that might need addressing to facilitate a sale. Leave enough time to schedule necessary repairs. About a month before listing your house, start working on staging and deep cleaning in preparation for taking photos.

[sobeautifullyobsessed]

Reblogging this to expand on my reply. I really hope that the Anon saw this from earlier, and will see this continuation.

This stayed on my mind all day at work (as I mentioned elsewhere), with a sharp feeling of shame the whole time. Much deserved shame and guilt over my very clear short-sightedness and feet of clay. Especially because so many people have stepped up to help me, and many of them repeatedly. It stings even now to reread the latter half of this Ask especially, and I'm sure it will for some time to come--as it should. A justified punishment, and one of those things that I'll cringe to look back on years down the road!

Be assured, Anon, that even before your Ask, this remarkable--this veritable--miracle, has made me feel a sense of community as nothing in my life outside of tumblr ever has. Enough for me to already have realized that my bitterness has to be pulled back, for it taints the soul-deep gratitude I feel. Of course, you have only my word on this, and I hope it will suffice.

Yes, I've often expressed extreme frustration over lack of engagement on my creative efforts, though to be frank, I believed few people even noticed, except my closest mutuals and the relatively low number of those who indicated they read them. I didn't consider it 'slamming' followers, but letting off steam by shouting out into the void. I apologize to all those I have offended--and hope that this is taken with all the sincerity I feel. Tumblr has ever been a place where I show my heart--for in the 'real world', how many of us can be as open & vulnerable as a forum, as a refuge, that this space provides? And I trust that those who know me best (and have witnessed both my highest of highs and lowest of lows) discern that I am always sincere in the things I say here.

Anon was absolutely justified in calling me out. And I hope those who know me at l least a little from how and what I share of myself here, know that there was never a question about me posting this Ask for everyone to see. They will also believe me when I state this--even should skeptical others not--that I had decided in the past couple of weeks to pull back from looking for fuller engagement on my works. Decided that going forward, I was going to pare down my tagging efforts to the dozen or so people that consistently show me they read & value my works. Again, those who really see me will believe this is the truth.

Honestly, I have no idea why I have as many followers as I do! I often think it's a fluke...and that perhaps in my early years, I wasn't diligent enough about checking out new followers to see if they were bots. Whatever the case, let me reiterate my apology to everyone who has given me help and literal support over the course of this difficult journey I've been living through these past 15 months, even though I've lacked good grace at times regarding support (or seeming lack thereof) of my works.

Hi hun, really glad you got nearly all you needed but you need to stop slamming your followers in light of this because you're not getting as much interaction or feedback on your fics as you want. I appreciate it's frustrating and it's a problem in general for people writing and creating, there's a disposable culture thing etc that is killing creativity. But I read your bitter tagging that says what's the point of having over a thousand followers and so on etc if nobody responds or people don't respond to notifications and then the next you're posting tags with tearful emojis and my community. People follow you for different reasons. It might not be for your fic but because of other stuff. They might be busy. But when you need help, it's been the followers who have had your back over and over again. They might not comment on your fic but we fucking fork out money for your sake so you don't suffer since you've gone through so much.

Actually, that has significantly changed my mind about the fiction interaction situation, so I'm very glad you sent this. I would write my further thoughts right now, but I have only five minutes left on my morning break and only just saw this. I felt this is important enough to reply ASAP.

Thank you for giving me the opportunity to respond!

[husbandohunter]

A Small Predicament [Baby Genshin x Reader]

Characters: Scaramouche, Diluc, Kaeya, Childe, Xiao, Zhongli, Albedo

Synopsis: Cursed for a week, the boys either have to live with it or find a cure as soon as possible. You on the otherhand hoped otherwise.

(A/n): It only takes ONE glance for me to start having ideas. It was twelve in the morning yall, enjoy~

Oh here's part 2

--------

Scaramouche

• "Oh you shrank? I couldn't tell-"

• Threatens that he will murder you to pieces and burn your remains but his voice was so squeaky and high pitched (voice crack) that you couldn't help but burst into a tearful laughter. 

• Its payback time  Bully him, take his hat and hover it above his head. Truthfully, without his hat Scaramouche looks like a little schoolboy. Overall less intimidating.

• Tries glaring. Cute. He's really bratty as a kid, sitting on a high chair (which you had to help him get on) and demanding his servants to do his bidding. In reality, his personality never changed. You realized that even as a grown up he still acts like this (bratty kid in a grown man body).

• The curse made his week a living hell. Signora had the audacity to pull his ear when he misbehaves. Childe constantly messes with his hair while giving head pats and the WORST of all, pinching his cheeks. Scaramouche never wanted to commit arson so bad in his life.

• Eventually finds a cure so he doesn't have to deal with it anymore and orders everyone to never speak of it again. Though, he's plotting how he'll get revenge on everyone who made fun of him using the very same curse (You better run).

~~x~~

Diluc

• "Oh…Oh my! Diluc you're just so cute!" 

• Diluc grimaces as you glomp him in this state. How can you help it? With his head so small it makes his hair all the more fluffier! His coat no longer fits him to the point the sleeves had made past his fingertips. He tried wielding his claymore again, only to lose balance and fall flat onto his bum

• (insert kid voice "Retribution!") Did I mention the babyface?

• Diluc tries to act as if everything was normal, acting like the Darknight hero and Mondstadt's Tycoon but fun-sized. He couldn't. There was no way people would take him seriously in business meetings. Same with fighting abyss mages, his smaller form was too much of a disadvantage. Thus you ended up doing most of his paperwork.

• One time you caught him sitting on the floor couldn't reach his office desk  while reading away the various books for a cure. It was three in the morning. You told him it was way past his bedtime and he argues saying when did he ever have a curfew schedule. In the end you managed to convince him and he begrudgingly obliges.

• The type to NOT ask for help even when it's obvious that he really needs it. Before he was the one who helped you reach things from the top shelves, oh how the tables have turned. He avoids Kaeya like a plague unless he was in it for another round of funny remarks. When he wanted to go out and get some fresh air, you insisted on accompanying him. Worst mistake in his life. A travelling merchant bumps into you and commented that you had a very cute son. Diluc was mortified.

• The day ended up with him sulking in his room. Although it was tempting, you resisted from cooing over his adorable form after days of treating him like a child. It wasn't because you were teasing him, Diluc just works so hard that you wanted to spoil him a bit. At least he could still play a game of chess with you.

• When things went back to normal, Diluc ensures that you will NOT see him as your son.

~~x~~

Kaeya

• "Well look who it is, my little Prince Kaeya~"

• Tries really hard not be bothered by it at all. Kaeya still maintains his suave facade, throwing in a couple of flirting lines here and there (and forcing his voice to go a few octaves too low in which puberty has yet to occur HA). Though no matter what approach, he couldn't ignore the sparkling mischievious glint in your eye. You were obviously not taking him seriously.

• Things couldn't get any worse. He lost his masculine physique and boob window, he wasn't able to go to certain places without supervision. But the worst thing of all was that he was underaged. Kaeya hated the fact he couldn't drink anymore, he even insisted you to sneak him a few bottles (which you refused) and had to settle with plain beverages such as fruit juice (what an insult). He was never really grounded since his childhood days but he certainly felt like he was grounded now. 

• Kaeya still kisses you on the lips whether you like it or not. If you ask him to sit on your lap, he will find a way to turn the position into his favour such as resting his face between your breasts. You're not gonna treat him like a kid, nuh-uh, he actively avoids it.

• Since his personality still remains, Kaeya is a naughty child. He will use his innocent appearance to sway people (even you) to get what he wants. That was how he was able to take a sip of the wine he stole somewhere (he wouldn't tell you). Diluc scolded him heavily and threatened to ban him from drinking from his Tavern for a week (they ended up arguing, Kaeya being the passive aggressive little shit he is).

• He was extremely relieved to return back to his normal form again. He has so much to catch up (specifically his bedtime activities with you *wink wonk*)

~~x~~

Child(e)

• "Hmmm to be honest, this actually suits you very much."

• Unlike the other boys, Childe was completely okay with it. Turns out that YOU were the one who was not going to be okay. If you thought taking care of Teucer was energy-draining then expect Childe to take that tenfold and beyond.

• You've officially became his full-time babysitter who is in desperate need of a raise (and rest). You can't take your eyes off of him and archons forbid that he will ever meet Klee. One point he'll be running ahead by your side and the next you'll find him getting himself in a 1vs7 situation with some shady looking treasure hoarders. Childe genuinely thinks he could take them on but the curse downgraded his abilities. You carried him and barely made out of it alive. (This made you ponder whether the best solution would be to strap him against a chair for the time being…)

• Childe being a child will eat all the candies and ice cream he pleases. You wonder if the curse also turned him a few years back or was it that he acts like this simply because he wanted to (it was the latter). He loves being spoiled, spoiled by you! Childe demands your full attention, spoon-feeding his meals, back rubs and head pats. Yep, he's definitely doing this on purpose.

• Did he just call you 'mommy'? (Childe has mommy kink confirmed).  He has so much energy that it was exhausting, you literally had to drag him away from what ever he was doing in order to get him to bed. "No Childe, your sleeping time is 9p.m stop whining." He bargained that he'll sleep if you sleep beside him (you didn't get any sleep. You knew what he was planning. In the end, you tried to make sure he didn't sneak out behind your back.)

• Finally you were able to get out of that hell-hole. Childe promised to make it up to you, you deserve it after all~

~~x~~

Small (aka Xiao)

• "Did you know in the Liyuean language, Xiao translates to small?" You didn't say that out loud. Not when he's this angry (this angy)

• He just stands there, crossing his arms and grumbling. You were hesitant to touch him in case he might hiss at you. Xiao has always been short, maybe an inch taller than you, but seeing him like this made you think 'my almighty yaksha can't be this cute♡'

• He gets mad when you no longer call his name for help. How could you? He's just so precious~ Xiao makes it clear that no matter what form he takes, it doesn't make him weak ("Adepti and you mortals are nothing alike." Or so he says but you could tell he wasn't running as fast as he used to because…small legs). You may not comment on it aloud but he can tell just by the look on your face and it irritates him.

• Also the type to not ask for help but worse. Xiao is an agressive little kid, he seems as if he'll be willing to bite someone's finger off if they try to pet him (He gives strong cat vibes, so thats understandable). His spear was too big for him to wield so he often has to put it away or else he might knock someone over with it. Xiao hates being short so you'll be hearing him complain alot.

• Since he was an adepti, he didn't need to sleep however, the curse must have brought down his power by a significant amount to the point you DID catch him napping. You almost swooned out loud just by taking a glance upon his face. For once he didn't wear his signature grumpy look. Xiao appears like a normal child, one full of innocence. His snoring was soft and breathly but that just meant he was deep asleep. (You wished to take a picture). 

• Of course, everything had to come to an end (much to your disappointment), he still complains about the incident to this day.

~~x~~

Zhongli

• How is it possible for a baby to still look so handsome? (Must be his godly abilities)

• Zhongli is unfazed by this 'curse' since his past lives have already taken many forms. Though for some reason whenever he walks down the streets of Liyue, young girls, mothers, ladies all come him was and start complimenting him and gushing over him (he was suffocating). They'd squeeze him tight or squish his cheeks, it only takes once glance before the little girls start blushing and hiding behind their moms.

• Needless to say, despite what form he is in, Zhongli is still able to get free stuff. He got some free candies and some free kites to play with. You had to help him carry his items. Zhongli ends up tripping too much because his tailcoat reached his feet (he decided to just take it off. You had to hold that too). Seems like he can have anyone do things for him in the end HA.

• He still got that drippy voice and you're just like ???? "What on Teyvat Zhongli, you're a kid." This is why you can't see him as one, its nearly impossible.

• Actively avoids Hu Tao and Childe. Once Hu Tao caught sight of him and chased him for hours, he couldn't stay in one spot knowing that she might just pop out of no where. Childe still spoils him, however Zhongli feels irritated by the fact the only things Childe buys him toys (its different when other people do it.)

• Everytime you guys go back strolling through Liyue, you had to hold his hand in case more women come swarming hin again. You swear that at this rate he might get kidnapped because hes just such a beautiful baby.

• Zhongli learned an important lesson after his curse was lifted: no matter how many years he lives throughout  never take a form of a child.

~~x~~

Albedo

• You find him buried beneath a pile of books and had to dig him out before he suffocates.

• Albedo has the cutest eyes, they're big and round full of curiosity and they sparkle too (he has the prettiest eyes out of everyone tbh). He is the only person who is fascinated by this outcome and immediately goes in the wild to test out his new physique. 

• He was always curious why Klee T-poses when she runs so he decided to try it out himself. She was thrilled to find out that she now has a little brother to play with. In the end, Albedo indulges in the games she always wanted to play but couldn't because he was too old: princess dress up tea parties.

• You felt many things when you saw Albedo wearing a frilly gown and a plastic tiara tucked on his head. Deep down you knew regardless of what gender Albedo was still pretty. Klee even had the guts to redo his hair and hardly anyone was able to recognize it was him at all. He has pigtails, PIGTAILS! You made sure to burn that image into the very depths of your mind forever.

• The only advantage was the he was ablw to fit through small spaces, other than that, being small was way too inconvenient. He knocked down a few of his potion bottles which damaged the floor (thankfully not him) because they were lethal (he wonders how Klee was able to not injure herself when using bombs). You carried him and lifted him to alot of places such as trudging through the snow because Albedo would surely fall on his face due to his small form.

• Enough was enough, he only lasted a day with this and decided to just make a potion and put an end to the curse once and for all. 

[mxstball]

Heidi and George were back sitting in front of each other after the tournament. I didn't want to stay while Jörmungandr learns of the truth of Meredith, but she was more than willing to do so, instead.

Nonetheless, Heidi let out a sigh.

"There's... something that I want for you to see, George, and I want you to be the first person of our home to see it, too."

"Hm? Have you not shared it with Melony?"

Heidi shook her head. "Mel was alright with waiting until you saw it first before learning about it. It's just... what you're about to see is extremely important to me... and to you as well, so it would only make sense if you were to see this."

"Is this... related to Meredith in any way, Heidi?"

"...Yes." Heidi nodded. "In fact, it has everything to do with Mama."

"I had a suspicion when Lacey asked me of her. Very well. You have my attention, my student. What is it that you have?"

"..." Heidi let out her palm. "Well, saving you and Leifi wasn't my first foray into going back in time. There was... one other time a few weeks ago when I went back two hundred years in the past to see our home thriving like I've ever seen before."

"Yes... I believe I did hear rumors back then of someone similar to yourself visiting and giving Nergal a good thrashing. A shame that I wasn't in the region at the time."

Heidi nodded. She transformed into her Low-Powered state. She'll need it for what happens next.

"Well, I encountered Friede there, and... she's the one that gave me these abilities. I'm... now able to tune directly into the natural energy of the world and take on the skills, abilities, and powers of an All-Mother. I even have another form that Lacey and I call our High-Power state to combat even greater foes and that's even stronger than this one..."

"And you believe that these two forms will be enough to defeat Arceus, Heidi?"

Heidi nodded. "Yes, but not now. I still need to master both of these skills. This one was pretty easy to get the handle of, but staying in High-Power exhausts both me and Lacey, requiring an intense amount of focus and energy... and if even one of us falters, then we break the form entirely."

"I see, and how is it that you and she intend to train it?"

"Well, Friede gave us another gift to help us with just that, and that's exactly what I wanted to show you today." Heidi closed her palm and opened it again, suddenly revealing a glowing orb of a unique aura.

"...A Soul Dew...?"

"Mama's... Soul Dew." Heidi nodded.

"But I thought that you were weakened by the power of a Soul Dew."

"I am, and that's the case for every Soul Dew, but... Friede modified her for me. I can... tap into her now using my Arceus abilities. I--I even showed mama Lacey for the first time, though we seem to be the only ones to be able to do that for now."

"Meredith..." Just hearing all of this held up so many pent-up emotions. "It is... so good to see that you've returned to us. You and your daughter have always deserved to be together."

"George. I... know that you cared about Mama as much as I did growing up, so I wanted you to be the first person that I try this with."

"Anything, my student. What is it?"

"Aesen was able to tap into the Power of Creation to channel into it and talk to her. It only worked for a single question and response, and I don't think that I can do much better, but I wanted to... do that with you, if that's okay."

"...."

1,700 years. Jörmungandr had long moved on in some ways from her. He gave up on life as a warlord and instead became a researcher and a teacher, guiding others to be the people that Meredith has always seen them as, and as a small resemblance of what he wished Heidi would have been if she never disappeared 1,000 years ago. He's met so many people in this time -- friends, enemies, mentees, students.... He wasn't one to display emotions, but he was happy with his new life, even today while he was in this familiar yet foreign world.

However, he never truly moved on. Meredith was always on the back of his mind. He started this path to honor her legacy, and eventually continued to be the one to help people find the love in themselves as she did. Even romantically, he never was truly over her, or his memory of her. Sure, he's had some relationships in the past, but none of them made such an impact on his life than her. She was truly one of a kind.

And now, 1,700 years later, their child would reunite them in some form.

"...Yes. I... would like that. Thank you... Heidi."

The two dragons were in the living room watching the current Sinnoh Tournament. They were on the couch with Jörmungandr sitting upright and Heidi laying down with her head on his lap. it was a smaller tournament, as the Elite Four and the new Champion were not participating. Still, between the challengers and gym leaders, there was enough excitement to go around. Still, the two were in relative silence for most of it, glued to the screen as the battles were pouring in.

Eventually, however, I decided to come out for a little while.

Lacey took control of the body as she continued to lay her head on Jörmungandr's lap. It was a little more comfortable for her since she wasn't nearly as tall as I was.

"...Lacey." Jörmungandr looked down and started playing with Lacey's hair.

"...Jörmungandr-Sensei." Lacey accepted it. She was far more willing to speak with him this way.

"Was there a buildup of Shadow Energy, or did you wish to watch the tournament as well?"

"Neither." She shifted a little to be more comfortable. "I simply request to spend time with you as well. I have received Heidi's blessing to do so."

I did allow it.

".... I see. Well, you know that I will not deny your request, of course."

The two sat together in silence as he continued to play with her hair, and they watched the tournament. It looked like they were starting to get to an intermission.

That's when it was time for Lacey to speak.

"...I have a question for you, Jörmungandr-Sensei."

"You may ask, and I will answer to the best of my ability."

"...Meredith-Okaasama. You two held a close bond before Heidi was born. Would you care to elaborate on said relationship?"

"...." Jörmungandr sighed. Asking about that was enough for him to remember why he was so inclined to visit in the first place.

He remembered the Lucario girl and the Pawmot boy that entered his home with a message.

Gloam smiled, but also kept her composure as she relayed her message to him. "The message in particular I was requested to deliver was that Miss Meredith thanks you for keeping well with the promise you made to her. She also requested me to give you a palm strike to the head should you not respond, but I'm lucky it never came to that." That wasn't important, but she threw it in there anyways, if only to humor herself. "The last thing she asked was this - to tell you to spend more time with your daughter."

Meredith... despite being gone for so many years, has always found a way to surprise him. Heidi may not know who her father was, and it may be for the best, but thinking of Meredith while knowing that it was him all along... so much of it filled his heart with various, conflicting feelings.

"Meredith and I... were in a happy relationship, yes." Jörmungandr nodded. "I loved her dearly, as much as she loved me. We did not make our love that public, but in the 900 years between the Kalos War and the Weather Wars, we were fond of each other, spending as much time as we could together in between our respective duties. Meredith was loved by all -- by me, by various humans and Pokémon, even by our Arceus -- but while she loved us all in turn, there were but two that she had a special place for... with you being the eventual third."

"...And those two were of Friede and of you?"

Jörmungandr nodded. "It was. We did so much together... we even planned to possibly quit with the ceaseless fighting, leave everyone, and raise a family together. Unfortunately, we never could come to that. During the weather wars, she and I drifted apart as I had to once again take the mantle as Warlord and protect our people. She understood of course and even volunteered to help in all of the ways that she could, but we couldn't risk a conflict of interest and she was spending more time away, so we broke up."

"...and then, Heidi was born."

"100 years later, yes. No one could figure out who your father was at time, but she loved you more than anything in the world, and when she was away, she always thought of you and talked of you. Even early on in your life, she went out of her way to have me promise her that I would take care of you, and that I would protect you."

"...I see."

"...Jörmungandr-Sensei, let us finish watching this tournament. We will pick up from that afterwards." The intermission was starting to end.

"Very well. Let us continue." Jörmungandr went back to playing with Lacey's hair and watching the tournament.

[father-time-and-baby-new-year]

alphabet boy

SYNOPSIS: You should feel extremely lucky that the handsome and intelligent Armin Arlert is your tutor...even when he's a little mean to you. Because that's your fault, isn't it? He wouldn't have to be mean if you weren't so damn stupid.

PAIRING: Armin x FEM!Reader

DEDICATED TO: armin fuckers. non armin fuckers, i hope i can convert you.

TW: dubcon touching, manipulative behavior, gaslighting, academia shaming,

WC: 1.8k

“Maybe you’re not cut out for this class.”

He said it so casually, a comment spoken between the flip of textbook pages. You couldn’t shake off the undeniable hurt.

“I-Uhm, uh, yeah I have to study a lot...but I like this class. It was a pain to get off the waitlist.” You keep your voice optimistic and light, hoping to mask the offense taken.

You don’t know why Armin would say that, but maybe he was just being logical...he’s seen you struggle, of course, he’d think the class was too hard for you.

The blond sighs, closing his novel that he brought with him while he waited for you to finish your practice problems.

“You can barely keep up with the weekly homework assignments. You didn’t even hand in your assignment last week, right? Better drop out now before the add and drop deadline.” His voice is soft and cold at the same time. It’s unnerving.

You tuck your hair behind your ears, eyes set low, too ashamed to meet your tutor’s. Armin had been your tutor for the past few weeks now, and you thought it was going pretty well. He was so so smart that you couldn’t help but be a little starstruck. He was handsome too, short-cropped blond hair, wide blue eyes, with a wardrobe that was composed of slacks and sweaters.

Usually, he was always overly polite and charming. You could make countless mistakes and his patience was endless. He had some off-days where he was a little withdrawn and quiet. You never held it against him though, knowing he had no obligation to make idle chatter. But sometimes, you could feel his chilly gaze watching you even though he had a book propped open.

“I emailed the professor, he was really chill about it. Last week was really rough for me, you know? I wasn’t feeling well and...”

“You know excuses don’t fly in the real world right? You’re in college now. Professor Ackerman was just being courteous. He probably thinks you’re lazy.” Even though you try not to look at him, you can feel Armin’s azure blues burn holes into you. There was this quiet intensity about him that made you worry about when the restraints would come off.

Armin can’t help but let condescension drip over his words. Any self-respecting person would defend themselves, but not you. Not when you’re already broken by your own insecurities that make it that much easier for him to trample on.

He can already see pearly-sheened tears leaking from the corner of your hopeless eyes. How cute. You part your pretty little mouth to say something, but no words come out. You close your mouth soon enough, looking every bit like a dumb little airhead.

So he continues: “You know your classmates learned all the first few chapters from high school right? You’re the only one starting fresh.” He moves closer, elbows inching closer to infiltrate your little personal-space bubble, knees knocking into yours under the desk.

More tears form under your lower lashes, and Armin mentally counts the crystal droplets. You’re recoiling into yourself like a shrinking violet which only encourages Armin to go just a little farther.

“You don’t even have your major picked out yet. This is a core class for your classmates, you know. You’re wasting your-no, everyone’s time.”

Not wanting to cry in front of your tutor, you rub your eyes with the sleeve of your jacket, fully aware of how utterly pathetic you look right now.

In a small voice, you manage to utter, “I have a right...to be in this class. Even though I’m slow now, I think with some decent amount of studying...I’ll catch up. Even if I’m not-” you take a deep breath, “as quick as my classmates, I still really enjoy what I learn. And..and...I think at the end of the day, that’s what really matters!”

Armin scoffs, “Do you really like the class or are you staying for Ackerman? God knows how many fangirls he’s had to put up with.”

Even as he spoke those words, Armin knew it wasn’t entirely true. You admired the man zealously and had read all of his published papers. Honestly, your admiration had always annoyed him.

You wince at the insinuation but you could feel the anger simmering in your gut, “You have no right to imply that! Wh-why-” Your voice breaks, “are you being so mean?”

Armin thinks you’re so cute, the way you jut out your bottom lip. So cute and pathetic. The corners of his lips quirk upwards. It’s almost endearing how you say “mean” like it’s the worst thing a person can be.

“Am I being mean or am I being realistic?” The blond coos, “I’m your tutor, right? I know the best for you.”

He takes your silence as an invitation to goad you harder: “You’re only upset because I’m telling you what you don’t want to hear.”

You don’t notice the proximity until Armin lays his hand over yours, squeezing the soft flesh of your palms. His voice is gentle as he reassures you: “Hey, hey, don’t cry. It’s okay.”

He made you cry, but you don’t have it in you to pull away from the only semblance of comfort given to you. His chair scrapes the floor as he sets it right beside yours, wrapping an arm around you, encouraging you to lean your head against his shoulder.

It’s a little sad but this is probably the most physical contact you’ve gotten in a while. You’re an utter mess, and on top of all that, touch-starved.

You’re still sniffling like a crybaby, trying to sort your own emotions out. You take a few deep breaths and force yourself to face the facts:

You’re behind.

The class is too much work for you.

Armin’s right, you’re upset because he’s telling you what you don’t want to hear.

“D-do you really think I should drop the class?” Your voice is so defeated, a pinch louder than a whisper.

His long fingers play with the ends of your hair, “I know this class is really important to you and we both want you to do well...so why don’t we increase our tutoring sessions? Maybe we should meet three times a week.”

He smiles at you, and it looks so genuine. You’re immensely grateful, you are, but confusion washes over you, “Wow, Uh, that’ll be great actually but um, uni tutoring services is once a week...so-”

Armin dismisses your concerns with a gentle wave of his hands, “Don’t worry, It’ll be off the books. Think of this as private tutoring. Of course, we’ll have to start meeting in my room from now on.”

While he doesn’t elaborate on why you have to meet in his dorm, you assume Armin has a good reason and it probably involves university-sanctioned student-tutor guidelines.

You’re stammering out thank-you’s, still trying to rub the tears out of your eyes until you feel a soft handkerchief wiping them away.

“It’s okay, don’t worry.” He reassures, “Don’t use your sleeve. It’s too rough for your pretty face.”

You blush under his words, wide eyes locked into his oceanic blues, “I d-don’t know if I’ll be able to compensate you f-for the private tutoring.”

His eyebrows crease as he gives you a smile full of pearly teeth, “You don’t have to worry about that for now.” His hands graze over your knuckles, “We’ll figure something out.”

“Thank you Armin.” You say it so sincerely, trying to muster the biggest smile you can after the blond essentially trampled over your self-esteem to only nurse it back with sweet promises.

“Well, we better finish today’s work then.” He responds calmly, not bothering to detangle himself from you. You can feel his body heat radiating onto you, and how his hand moved to casually rest on your thigh. But that’s normal right? If you think about it, Armin was not exactly adverse to touch. During your past tutoring sessions, his hand would always be on the small of your back or shoulders.

“Hey, you’re not getting distracted again, are you?” His voice is playful like he isn’t sliding his hand up and down the span of skin between your skirt and tights. When you don't respond, he pinches your inner thigh, eliciting a startled gasp from you.

"Focus." It's a demand so it must be followed.

Embarrassed, you nod your head and return your focus to the problem sets even though your hands are shaky as you grip the ballpoint pen.

You don’t notice how the blond’s eyes gleam under the fluorescent lighting at your easy compliance. He’s always liked obedient girls.

Your thighs are growing warmer, and it doesn’t help to have Armin peering over you. Still, you try your best to lull yourself to focus until a ringtone breaks your concentration.

Armin breaks away from you to find his phone and you find your body subconsciously missing the warmth. He lightly curses under his breath once he sees the contact name, but answers nonetheless.

“Yeah...sorry babe. I forgot. I’ll be right over.” He sounds apologetic but he looks downright bored.

And like that, the call is over. He looks over at you with an apology falling from his lips, “Sorry about that. I forgot I had something to do today. We’ll end early.”

Your throat is dry as you ask, “Was that your girlfriend?” You regretted your words the moment they escaped. That was none of your business. It doesn’t matter if he was holding you earlier. He was doing so because you were bawling like a baby. But why did he touch your thighs?

That doesn’t have to mean anything, you rationalize. Besides, Armin would never make a move on you. He was a handsome senior with a perfect GPA and a powerful position in the student government. Stupid freshman girls like you are not worth the time he so generously gives out.

The blond smirks, seeming to notice your internal struggle, “Something like that. But don’t worry, I’ll make sure she won’t distract me from our future sessions.”

That was a puzzling comment. His girlfriend supposedly distracting from your study time wasn’t even a concern you held.

“No, no, that’s ok.” You quickly assure, “You’ve already helped me out so much.”

The blond pats the top of your head like you were a puppy, “I’d do anything for my cute little student.”

The way your face heats up with a dark blush should be criminal. All he did was pat your head, and you’re looking at him starry-eyed like he didn’t grope your thighs under the table. Honestly, all your cute little blubbering had gone straight to his cock. Annie would have to handle his big problem.

These private sessions are going to be fun.

part I ---- complete