#Benefits of Using a Margin Calculator

[stockexperttrading]

Maximize Your Forex Profits: A Guide to Margin Calculators for Funded Traders Global

Discover how margin calculations are essential for successful forex trading, especially for Funded Traders Global members. This article explores the significance of margin, the risks associated with margin trading, and the role of margin calculators in optimizing trading strategies. Learn how to use margin calculators effectively, choose the right type for your needs, and avoid common mistakes. Join Funded Traders Global and elevate your forex trading with precision and profitability.

[reasonsforhope]

"A century of gradual reforestation across the American East and Southeast has kept the region cooler than it otherwise would have become, a new study shows.

The pioneering study of progress shows how the last 25 years of accelerated reforestation around the world might significantly pay off in the second half of the 21st century.

Using a variety of calculative methods and estimations based on satellite and temperature data from weather stations, the authors determined that forests in the eastern United States cool the land surface by 1.8 – 3.6°F annually compared to nearby grasslands and croplands, with the strongest effect seen in summer, when cooling amounts to 3.6 – 9°F.

The younger the forest, the more this cooling effect was detected, with forest trees between 20 and 40 years old offering the coolest temperatures underneath.

“The reforestation has been remarkable and we have shown this has translated into the surrounding air temperature,” Mallory Barnes, an environmental scientist at Indiana University who led the research, told The Guardian.

“Moving forward, we need to think about tree planting not just as a way to absorb carbon dioxide but also the cooling effects in adapting for climate change, to help cities be resilient against these very hot temperatures.”

The cooling of the land surface affected the air near ground level as well, with a stepwise reduction in heat linked to reductions in near-surface air temps.

“Analyses of historical land cover and air temperature trends showed that the cooling benefits of reforestation extend across the landscape,” the authors write. “Locations surrounded by reforestation were up to 1.8°F cooler than neighboring locations that did not undergo land cover change, and areas dominated by regrowing forests were associated with cooling temperature trends in much of the Eastern United States.”

By the 1930s, forest cover loss in the eastern states like the Carolinas and Mississippi had stopped, as the descendants of European settlers moved in greater and greater numbers into cities and marginal agricultural land was abandoned.

The Civilian Conservation Corps undertook large replanting efforts of forests that had been cleared, and this is believed to be what is causing the lower average temperatures observed in the study data.

However, the authors note that other causes, like more sophisticated crop irrigation and increases in airborne pollutants that block incoming sunlight, may have also contributed to the lowering of temperatures over time. They also note that tree planting might not always produce this effect, such as in the boreal zone where increases in trees are linked with increases in humidity that way raise average temperatures."

-via Good News Network, February 20, 2024

[faebled-stories]

No Strings, No Heart

Kinkvember Day 23: Friends with Benefits

ITZY Lia (Choi Jisu) x Male reader

13.3k words

You and Lia had been friends since high school, back when neither of you had any idea what life would have in store. She had been the new girl, fresh from Canada, with a soft-spoken voice and an air of quiet confidence that intrigued everyone, including you. You’d been assigned seats next to each other in English class, and what started as casual small talk soon grew into a friendship you hadn’t expected.

Lia, or Jisu as she’d been known then, had dreams even back then that set her apart. While most of your classmates were focused on cramming for college entrance exams or deciding what clubs to join, Lia was already chasing something bigger: a career in music. She was always humming under her breath, jotting lyrics in the margins of her notebook, and rushing off to auditions after school.

When she finally became a trainee, it wasn’t a surprise, but it did mark the start of a more distant phase in your friendship. She spent most of her time at the company, training long hours, while you finished school and moved on to university.

Despite the distance, you kept in touch—texts here and there, occasional coffee meetups when she had a rare free day. When she debuted with ITZY, you were one of the first to congratulate her, your heart swelling with pride as you watched her music videos and performances from your tiny apartment.

Even as her life grew more hectic, Lia never let go of your connection. Whenever her schedule allowed, she’d call you up, sometimes late at night, her voice exhausted but warm as she asked about your day, complaining about the pressures of idol life in the same breath. She was still Jisu to you, your old high school friend, even as the world knew her as Lia.

-----

It was one of those late-night meetups—a rainy evening in her cozy Seoul apartment—that changed the dynamic between you. Her space smelled of vanilla candles and faintly of jasmine tea, her usual go-to after a long day. You sat awkwardly on her beige couch, holding a mug that was almost too hot, watching her as she lounged on the floor, cross-legged in an oversized sweater and shorts.

“You’re always so tense,” Lia said suddenly, her voice cutting through the soft patter of rain against the windows. Her damp hair fell in natural waves around her face, framing her features in a way that was almost disarming. This was not the poised, camera-ready idol the world saw. This was the Lia you knew—barefoot, casual, real.

You chuckled nervously, unsure where she was going with this. “Work’s been crazy, I guess.”

“That’s always your excuse,” she teased, setting down her mug with a soft clink. “But honestly, you’ve been like this since high school. Always wound up. Always overthinking.”

“Well, sorry for being consistent,” you shot back, a smile tugging at your lips.

She smiled too, but there was something different in her expression—something calculated yet sincere. “You know, we could help each other out.”

Your brow furrowed. “Help each other out… how?”

Lia tilted her head, studying you with an intensity that made your pulse quicken. “I don’t want anything complicated,” she began, her tone careful but confident. “No drama, no commitments. Just… something easy. For both of us.”

The words felt surreal, hanging in the air between you. “Wait, are you saying…?”

“I’m saying,” she interrupted, her voice softer now, “that we’re both stressed. Both stuck in our own routines. And you’re… safe.”

“Safe?” you echoed, unsure whether to feel flattered or insulted.

Lia rolled her eyes, laughing. “You know what I mean. I trust you. You’re not going to do anything stupid like fall in love with me. And let’s be honest—you’ve never been great with relationships.”

“Wow, thanks,” you muttered, though you couldn’t deny the accuracy of her words. Dating had never come easily to you, and Lia knew it better than anyone.

“I’m just saying it makes sense,” she said, her smile softening into something almost reassuring. “We’ve known each other forever. We trust each other. And I need… an escape, you know? A way to blow off steam without it becoming a mess.”

You hesitated, turning the idea over in your head. “I don’t know, Lia. Stuff like this—doesn’t it get messy?”

“Not if we’re honest with each other,” she said simply. “We set boundaries. We stick to them. And if it doesn’t work, we stop. No harm, no foul.”

Her words were logical, almost too logical, and the idea of being close to someone you trusted—someone who understood you without the usual complications—was more tempting than you wanted to admit.

“I… guess,” you said finally, your voice tinged with hesitation. “If you’re sure about this.”

Lia’s smile widened, a spark of relief and something else—satisfaction?—in her eyes. “I’m sure.”

And just like that, the boundaries of your friendship shifted. You told yourself it was perfect—a way to connect without risking anything deeper.

The first few times were… great. Better than great. There was an ease to it that neither of you had anticipated, a natural rhythm that made it feel less like a new arrangement and more like something that had always been there, waiting to be discovered. The way your bodies fit together was effortless, as though they’d been designed for this connection, every touch and movement aligning perfectly. It wasn’t just about the physical pleasure—though that was undeniable—it was the comfort of being close to someone who understood you in a way no one else did.

Lia had a way of melting into your arms, her laughter and sighs carrying a vulnerability that made the moments feel intimate even in their simplicity. You liked similar things, and exploring that together felt easy, seamless. The way her breath hitched against your skin, the way she responded to every touch with a soft moan or a shiver, made it feel less like an arrangement and more like a quiet escape for both of you.

When she reached for you in the stillness of her room, there was no hesitation, no awkwardness—just a mutual understanding that you could let go with each other.

It was everything she had promised: no drama, no complications. It was a release, a way to step outside the stress of your individual lives and find solace in each other. You told yourself that this was enough, that it didn’t need to mean anything more. And for a while, it didn’t.

But then, one night, everything shifted.

The atmosphere in Lia’s room felt thick with the unspoken, a cocoon of warmth and intimacy as the world outside faded away. The soft scent of jasmine and the lingering notes of her perfume were a quiet contrast to the faint tension in her voice as she spoke.

“It’s been… such a day,” she said with a sigh, leaning back against the headboard, her oversized sweater slipping from one shoulder. Her fingers idly played with the hem, a distraction as she tried to put her thoughts into words. “I feel like everyone wanted a piece of me today. The schedules, the cameras, the smiles—they don’t stop.”

You nodded, sitting close enough to her that the faintest brush of her knee against yours sent sparks up your spine. “You don’t have to explain. I can see it,” you said softly, meeting her eyes. “You’re always carrying so much.”

Her lips twitched into a small, tired smile. “Sometimes, I wish I could just turn it all off. Just… for a little while.”

“You can, here,” you offered, your voice steady despite the way your heart was racing. “You don’t have to be anything but you.”

Her eyes softened, and she reached out to touch your arm, her fingers grazing your skin. “That’s why I asked you to come tonight,” she admitted, her voice quieter now, almost fragile. “I need this. I need you.”

The weight of her words hit you with a force you weren’t entirely prepared for, but you nodded, leaning in slightly. “I’m here,” you said simply, your hand finding hers and squeezing gently.

The next moments unfolded slowly, deliberately, as if neither of you wanted to rush. Her sweater slipped further, pooling around her elbows as she lifted it over her head and let it fall to the floor. Her body, bathed in the soft glow of the bedside lamp, was breathtaking. She looked up at you, her eyes steady but vulnerable, as if daring you to say something, to break the spell.

“You’re beautiful,” you murmured, the words escaping before you could stop them.

A soft laugh escaped her, and she reached up to brush your cheek. “You’re such a sap,” she teased, though her voice was warm, her expression soft. “But I like it.”

You leaned in to kiss her, your lips meeting in a slow, deliberate connection. It started tenderly, a gentle brush of warmth, but quickly deepened, your hands finding her waist, her hips, exploring the curve of her body. She gasped softly against your lips, her hands sliding under your shirt to tug it off, the cool air of the room making your skin prickle as she traced patterns along your chest.

Guiding her back against the bed, you hovered over her, her hair spilling across the pillow in soft waves like a dark halo. The soft glow of the bedside lamp illuminated her features, her flushed cheeks and slightly parted lips evidence of the moment’s growing intensity. Her hands found your shoulders, her touch steady but eager as her breath quickened. The feel of her bare skin against yours, the warmth of her body beneath you, sent a rush of heat through you.

Before moving further, you paused, reaching for the small foil packet on the bedside table. Lia watched you, her chest rising and falling in shallow breaths, her gaze steady yet filled with trust. You slipped the condom on quickly, her hand brushing lightly against your arm in a silent gesture of reassurance.

As you align yourself with her, you paused again, your gaze locking onto hers. “Are you ready?” you asked softly, the weight of your question hanging in the quiet space between you.

Her lips curled into a faint smile, and her legs wrapped around your waist, pulling you closer. “Absolutely, I need this,” she whispered, her voice barely audible but filled with unmistakable longing. “I need you.”

The moment of joining was slow, deliberate, her body tensing slightly as you pressed into her. A quiet gasp escaped her lips, her fingers tightening on your shoulders, her nails faintly digging in as she adjusted to the closeness. You paused, giving her time, your heart pounding in sync with hers. Her breaths quickened, each rise and fall of her chest matching the rhythm you were beginning to create. The heat of her skin against yours was all-consuming, grounding and electrifying all at once.

You began to move, slow and measured, each motion deliberate. Her soft moans and quiet gasps filled the air, small sounds that spurred you on, each one sending shivers down your spine. Her hands roamed your back, nails occasionally dragging across your skin, her hips lifting instinctively to meet yours. The connection between you was unspoken but undeniable, a rhythm building that felt less like something physical and more like a quiet surrender.

Her lips parted as she whispered your name, her voice soft and trembling, a plea that made your chest ache. The way she looked up at you took your breath away. Her cheeks were flushed, her eyes fluttering open and shut, and the vulnerability in her gaze made you falter for a moment. You’d always thought Lia was beautiful, but here, now, she was something more—raw, open, and completely unguarded. Every quiet sound she made, every brush of her hands against you, seemed to weave a thread between you that went far beyond the act itself.

Your pace deepened, becoming more deliberate as you leaned down to capture her lips. Her response was immediate, her mouth opening to you as her hands slid into your hair, pulling you closer. The heat between you grew, a symphony of gasps, moans, and murmured words filling the space. Her legs tightened around your waist, her body pressing into yours as if to pull you even closer.

You pulled back slightly, your lips trailing down her jawline to her neck, brushing over the delicate curve of her throat. Her skin was warm and flushed beneath your touch, and you felt her shiver as your mouth moved lower, pressing kisses behind her ear. The spot you’d discovered during your time together—the one that always drove her wild. Her reaction was immediate, a soft gasp escaping her lips as her body arched into you.

Her hands clung to your shoulders as your lips continued their path, down her collarbone and toward the swell of her chest. You paused for a moment, letting your tongue flick gently over the sensitive skin there, before capturing one of her nipples between your lips. Lia let out a low, trembling moan, her nails digging into your back as you lavished attention on her. You alternated between gentle kisses and firmer, more deliberate nips, her body responding to each one with a sharp intake of breath or a soft cry.

Your free hand roamed over her body, sliding along the curve of her waist and the dip of her hips. You teased her other breast with your fingertips, rolling and brushing against her skin in time with the rhythm of your lips. Her body writhed beneath you, her hips lifting instinctively as if to draw you closer, the heat between you growing with every touch.

From her chest, your lips traveled downward, leaving a trail of warmth across her stomach. Lia’s breathing grew heavier, her hands tangling in your hair as you moved lower, savoring the way her body reacted to every press of your lips, every flick of your tongue. Her quiet whimpers and soft moans filled the room, a soundtrack to the intimacy building between you.

You moved back up, your mouth returning to the curve of her neck, brushing kisses along her jawline before finding her lips again. The kiss was deep and consuming, her hands pulling you closer as though she couldn’t get enough of you. Her legs tightened around your waist once more, her body pressing into yours as the rhythm between you grew more urgent, more deliberate.

Her reactions—each shiver, each soft cry, each whispered plea—fueled you, blurring the line between physical connection and something deeper. You knew every spot that made her tremble, every touch that left her gasping, and you used them all, the intimacy between you growing with each passing moment. It wasn’t just her body you craved—it was her trust, her surrender, the way she opened herself to you completely, leaving you breathless and wanting more.

Her voice broke through your focus, her breathless words trembling as she gasped, “You feel so good… Don’t stop.”

“I won’t,” you murmured, your voice hoarse and strained, barely able to contain the emotions coursing through you. Her flushed cheeks, the vulnerability in her gaze, the way her body clung to yours—it all struck you in a way you hadn’t prepared for.

The tension between you built steadily, every motion pulling you both closer to a precipice. Her moans grew louder, breaking into desperate cries as her body moved in sync with yours. Her hips met you with an urgency that matched your own, and her hands tightened their grip on your shoulders, her nails dragging against your skin.

“I’m so close,” she whimpered, her voice trembling and raw in a way that sent shivers through you. Her head tilted back, her body arching beautifully beneath you as she clung to you like you were her lifeline. “I—oh my god, I’m cumming… I love it, don’t stop, please.”

The words hit you harder than you expected, the raw need in her voice breaking through every wall you’d built around your feelings. Her climax overtook her in a wave, her body trembling violently as she cried out, her voice unguarded and desperate. The sight of her face, twisted in pure ecstasy, sent a jolt through you. Her name fell from her lips like a prayer, her body shuddering as she reached the peak, clutching at you with a force that left no doubt of the depth of her release.

And then, it hit you—seeing her like this, so open, so completely undone, you realized something you couldn’t ignore. You wanted to be the only one to give her this feeling. The thought struck like lightning, leaving you trembling even as your own release loomed. It wasn’t just about the act—it was about her, about how much you wanted to hold onto this moment, this connection, this vulnerability that was uniquely hers.

Your climax followed, surging through you in powerful, unrelenting waves as you buried your face in her neck. A guttural groan escaped you, your body trembling with the intensity of it. The warmth of your release pooled into the condom, each pulse carrying with it the weight of everything you’d been holding back. The sensations were overwhelming, magnified by the realization that this wasn’t casual for you anymore. Maybe it never had been.

Even as the waves subsided, you stayed close, holding her tightly against you. Her fingers traced lazy, soothing patterns along your back, her touch grounding you as your heart pounded against hers. Her breaths were soft, mingling with your own in the quiet aftermath. The intimacy of the moment was almost too much, yet you didn’t want it to end.

Finally, you pulled back slightly, your heart still racing as you pressed a kiss to her damp forehead. Her cheeks were flushed, her lips curved into a faint, tired smile, her eyes fluttering open to meet yours. For a moment, neither of you spoke, the silence between you filled with unspoken emotions that neither of you seemed ready to name.

You leaned back carefully, slipping out of her with a quiet groan as her body shuddered at the loss of closeness. Reaching down, you removed the condom, tying it off as you moved to the side of the bed. Lia’s gaze followed you, her cheeks still rosy from the exertion, and when her eyes landed on what you held, her lips quirked into a teasing smile.

“Wow,” she said, her voice still breathy but laced with playful amusement. “You’ve been… pent up, huh?”

You couldn’t help but chuckle softly, the tension between you easing slightly at her tone. “Yeah, maybe a little,” you admitted, your voice still low and rough from the intensity of the moment.

She laughed, a soft, light sound that made your chest tighten again, her fingers brushing over your arm as if to reassure you. “I’ll take it as a compliment,” she said, her smile widening slightly as she leaned back against the pillow, her gaze softening.

In that moment, as you looked at her—flushed, vulnerable, yet teasing—you couldn’t ignore the shift that had happened. Whatever boundaries had existed between you before were gone, and the weight of that realization lingered, pressing gently against your heart.

You stood, disposing of the condom in the bathroom, your mind still reeling from everything that had just unfolded. The intensity of the moment lingered, but it wasn’t just the physical closeness that consumed you—it was the emotions swelling in your chest, threatening to spill over. You tried to push the thoughts aside as you cleaned up, focusing on the simple motions as a way to steady yourself.

When you returned to the bed, Lia was already nestled under the blankets, her cheeks still faintly flushed, her hair spilling over the pillow in soft waves. She looked up at you, her eyes warm and inviting, and without a word, she lifted the blanket in a silent invitation. It was a gesture you’d grown accustomed to—a familiar rhythm that had followed these nights together. But this time, something about it felt heavier, weighted with an unspoken shift between you.

You climbed into bed beside her, the mattress dipping slightly under your weight. She moved closer almost instinctively, her body curling into yours, her head resting against your chest as her arm draped across your stomach. The warmth of her, the way she fit so perfectly against you, was both comforting and terrifying.

Her breathing began to slow, her body relaxing as if this was the most natural thing in the world. And it was—for her. For you, though, the usual ease wasn’t there. You lay stiffly, staring up at the ceiling as a moment of dread washed over you.

You’ve broken the rules.

It hit you with the weight of a confession you’d been avoiding for weeks, maybe months. You’d convinced yourself this was fine, that you could keep things casual, that it was just a way to connect without getting too close. But tonight had shattered that illusion. You weren’t just drawn to Lia—you’d fallen for her.

Your chest tightened as the realization settled in. The way she laughed, the way she trusted you enough to let her guard down, the way she made you feel seen in a way no one else ever had—it wasn’t just something you could brush aside anymore. It was real, and it was terrifying.

You glanced down at her, your heart aching as you took in the soft curve of her lips, the peaceful expression on her face. She looked so at ease, so content, and you couldn’t bring yourself to disturb that. But the weight of your feelings pressed heavily against your chest, threatening to suffocate you.

Lia shifted slightly, her arm tightening around you as if sensing your tension. “You’re quiet,” she murmured, her voice drowsy but laced with curiosity. “You okay?”

“Yeah,” you lied, your voice barely above a whisper as you forced yourself to relax beneath her touch. “I’m fine.”

But you weren’t fine. Because as much as you wanted to stay in this moment—her warmth, her closeness—you knew that everything had changed. You’d crossed a line you couldn’t uncross, and now you weren’t sure what to do.

-----

The weeks that followed were an emotional minefield. Every stolen glance, every shared laugh, every moment Lia curled up beside you after an intense night—all of it dug deeper into the growing pit in your chest. It wasn’t just about intimacy anymore; it was everything. The way she smiled at you, her guard let down for just a moment. The way she playfully mocked your quirks, grounding you with the ease of someone who knew you better than anyone. You craved her in ways that went beyond physical. You wanted all of her—her bad days, her hopes, her fears, and everything in between.

But you couldn’t say it.

The rules had always been clear: no emotions, no strings, no complications. Lia had built walls around herself, walls you understood were necessary given her chaotic life. Your arrangement was her sanctuary, an escape from the pressures of her career, her fame, and the unrelenting expectations placed on her shoulders. You told yourself that being her safe space was enough. It had to be.

That night had started like many others, but it carried a weight you couldn’t ignore. As the moment reached its peak, Lia shifted downward, her lips trailing across your skin with a deliberate slowness that sent shivers coursing through you. When her mouth finally enveloped you, a deep groan escaped your lips, your hand instinctively tangling in her hair.

Her movements were teasing but purposeful, each flick of her tongue measured to drive you closer to the edge. Her eyes flicked up to meet yours, glinting with mischief yet laced with something softer, something deeper. “You’ve been so stiff lately,” she murmured, her breath warm against you before continuing, her voice low and sultry as her tongue worked with maddening precision.

The intimacy overwhelmed you, her familiarity with your body leaving you utterly undone. She knew exactly how to unravel you, to find the places that made you tremble, the rhythm that pushed you to your breaking point. When your release finally overtook you, it was overwhelming, waves of pleasure crashing through you with an intensity that left you trembling. Your fingers tightened briefly in her hair as a hoarse gasp escaped you, the heat of the moment leaving you breathless.

Lia pulled back gently, her lips curling into a satisfied smile as she wiped the corner of her mouth with the back of her hand. She moved back up to lie beside you, her body fitting against yours with an ease that should have felt comforting. But this time, it didn’t. This time, it felt different.

She settled against you, her head resting on your chest, her breathing steady and calm. Her hair tickled your skin, her warmth both soothing and torturous as a quiet dread began to build in your chest. It wasn’t just physical anymore—this was heavier, filled with emotions you couldn’t keep bottled up.

Before you could stop yourself, the words rose in your throat. “Jisu,” you began softly, her name catching in your throat.

She hummed in response, her eyes still closed, a faint smile playing on her lips. “Hmm?”

“Do you ever think…” You hesitated, the words feeling too heavy, too dangerous. But they pushed forward anyway, your voice barely above a whisper. “Do you ever think this could be something more?”

Her eyes opened slowly, the smile fading as her expression shifted into something unreadable. She propped herself up on one elbow, her hair falling in soft waves around her face, the sheets slipping slightly off her shoulder. Her gaze met yours, searching and cautious, and the seconds stretched into an eternity.

“Why are you asking?” she asked softly, her tone carrying a mix of curiosity and caution.

Your heart raced, panic rising in your chest as you scrambled for a response. “I was just thinking,” you lied, the words tumbling out too quickly. “It’s nothing. I don’t know, just… a thought.”

Her expression didn’t change, her gaze lingering on yours for a moment longer before she sat up fully. Wrapping the blanket around herself like a shield, her voice was calm but resolute as she said, “Hmm, no, I don’t think so. The reason this works is because it’s casual. If we start complicating things, it’ll ruin everything.”

Her words hit like a punch to the gut, sharp and cutting in their finality. You nodded slowly, forcing a smile you didn’t feel. “Oh… yeah… You’re right. Forget I said anything.”

She smiled faintly, but it didn’t reach her eyes. She lay back down, resting her head on your chest again as if nothing had happened. Her breathing evened out, her warmth against you a cruel comfort. But for you, everything had changed.

The words you’d been holding back, the feelings you’d buried, wouldn’t stay quiet anymore. They clawed at you, louder with every passing day, until the very thought of continuing like this felt unbearable. You had broken the rules, and the weight of that truth suffocated you in ways you hadn’t thought possible.

-----

Over time you tried convinced yourself to accept her boundaries, telling yourself that being with Lia on her terms was better than not having her at all. But that fragile resolve cracked wide open the day you saw the article.

It was a lazy Sunday afternoon, the kind of day meant for doing nothing. Sunlight spilled through your apartment windows, painting the floor in golden streaks as you scrolled absently through your phone. Outside, the faint hum of the city mixed with the rhythmic ticking of the clock, a peaceful backdrop to your aimless thoughts.

Then your phone buzzed, pulling you from the haze of routine. Without thinking, you tapped the notification.

The headline hit like a physical blow: "ITZY’s Lia Spotted on a Romantic Date with beloved Idol."

Your stomach tightened instantly, a sharp ache blooming in your chest as you scrolled through the accompanying photos. Each swipe felt like tearing open a wound. There she was, walking arm-in-arm with another idol. The soft rustling of the park’s trees in the background, the dappled sunlight falling on their faces—it all looked so serene, so effortless. Their casual clothes hinted at an attempt to keep things discreet, but the atmosphere around them screamed intimacy.

And then one photo stopped you cold.

Her head tilted slightly, her hair catching the sunlight like a halo. Her eyes—soft and filled with a warmth that felt painfully familiar—were fixed on him. She was smiling, bright and genuine, the corners of her lips curving in a way that was devastatingly effortless. That smile was reserved for someone special. Someone who wasn’t you.

Your chest ached, a dull yet unrelenting pain spreading through you as you stared at the screen. The world around you seemed to fade, the sunlight that had once felt comforting now harsh and uninviting. The faint hum of the city became muffled, replaced by the deafening rush of your own thoughts.

Has she ever looked at you like that? Has she ever smiled at you in that way, with that kind of quiet adoration? A part of you knew the answer, even if you didn’t want to admit it. The answer cut deeper than anything she’d ever said or done.

The seconds stretched into minutes as you stared at the image, the knot in your stomach tightening with each passing moment. You could almost hear her laugh in your head, see the way she looked at you during your private moments together. But it wasn’t the same. It had never been the same.

The sharp buzz of another notification snapped you out of your spiraling thoughts. Lia’s name flashed across the screen, her message simple: “Are you free?”

The words sat at the top of your screen, directly above the article. The juxtaposition was cruel, a perfect encapsulation of everything that had been tearing you apart. Your thumb hovered over the notification, your mind swirling with a chaotic mix of emotions—anger, hurt, jealousy, longing. Every rational part of you screamed not to reply. To protect yourself. To draw a line before it was too late.

But as always, your heart betrayed you.

The faint sound of your breathing filled the room, shallow and uneven as you tapped her message. You opened the chat, your fingers trembling slightly as you typed the only thing you knew how to say to her.

"Yeah, I’ll be there."

The moment you hit send, the weight in your chest seemed to shift, but it didn’t lift. Instead, it settled deeper, anchoring itself to the realization you were too afraid to face: no matter how much it hurt, you couldn’t walk away. Not from her. Not yet.

-----

Lia greeted you at her apartment door with the same casual ease as always, dressed in a loose sweatshirt that hung just off one shoulder and shorts that left little to the imagination. Her hair was tied back loosely, and the faint scent of her lavender body lotion hung in the air as she stepped aside to let you in. She smiled, warm and familiar, but to you, it felt like a knife twisting in your chest.

“Hey,” she said softly, leaning casually against the doorframe. Her tone carried a cheerfulness that felt almost jarring compared to the turmoil swirling inside you. “Rough day?”

You swallowed hard, your thoughts tangled with the image of the article’s photos. The memory of her walking arm-in-arm with someone else clung to you like a shadow, an ache that wouldn’t loosen its grip. “Yeah,” you said finally, your voice flat. “Something like that.”

Her brows knitted slightly, a flicker of concern crossing her face before she masked it with another smile, softer this time. “Come in,” she said gently, stepping aside. “Let me fix you some tea or something.”

You followed her inside, the familiar warmth of her cozy apartment stirring something deep and painful within you. The dim lighting, the scent of jasmine mingling with lavender, the soft hum of a playlist you knew by heart—it should have felt comforting, but tonight it only made the ache worse. To her, everything seemed normal, unchanged. But to you, every gesture, every laugh, felt magnified, a sharp contrast to the images still burned into your mind.

She led you to the couch, her steps light and unbothered, her usual ease a stark reminder of how differently you were experiencing this moment. She sat close to you, her knee brushing against yours as she turned to face you fully. “You seem tense,” she said softly, her voice lowering into something soothing. Her hand rested lightly on yours, her touch simple yet disarming, as if she could sense the weight pressing down on you. “Let me help.”

You hesitated, the memory of her smile in those photos flashing through your mind. The warmth she had shown to someone else, the intimacy of it, felt like a stark contrast to the Lia sitting here with you now. Part of you wanted to pull back, to say something, to ask her what that meant, but the words wouldn’t come. Her touch, her presence—it was too much to resist, and before you could think better of it, her lips were on yours.

The kiss was familiar, practiced, but this time, it felt different. Your movements were slower, less certain. A part of you wanted to push her away, to demand answers, but the other part—the part of you that craved her touch, her presence—won. You kissed her back, the frustration and longing coiling tightly in your chest, fueling your every move.

Her hands slid beneath your shirt, tugging at it with the ease of someone who knew you too well. Your resolve crumbled under her touch, the confrontation slipping further from your mind. It could wait, you told yourself. For now, you let the emotions swirling within you—frustration, jealousy, and something darker—take over.

By the time you reached the bedroom, something inside you had shifted. The weight of your suppressed emotions guided your actions, a storm of unspoken feelings driving every touch, every motion. You turned her toward the bed, your hand firm on her shoulder as you eased her down to her knees.

Without a word, you unbuttoned your pants, the sound of the zipper cutting through the quiet room like a spark igniting the air. Lia’s eyes followed the motion, her gaze flicking downward before snapping back up to meet yours. Her lips parted slightly, a flicker of surprise crossing her features before melting into something softer, almost eager. When you pressed yourself to her lips, her hesitation was brief. Her hands found their place on your thighs, steadying herself as she took you in.

The shift in her was immediate. This wasn’t like before—this wasn’t the usual playful or restrained dynamic between you. You gripped her hair firmly, the silky strands slipping through your fingers as you guided her movements. Lia’s soft, muffled moan against you sent a shiver down your spine, the vibration electrifying. The control you felt, the way she surrendered so willingly, was intoxicating, and you couldn’t help but give in to the moment fully.

Your hips began to move, your thrusts deliberate but rough, each one pushing deeper as you set the rhythm. Lia’s hands tightened their grip on your thighs, her fingers curling slightly as her body swayed to match your motions. Her cheeks flushed a deep pink, and her breathing grew heavier between moments when you gave her just enough time to adjust. She looked up at you, her wide, watery eyes filled with surprise and a growing hunger. This wasn’t what she’d expected, but the way her body responded told you everything—this was what she wanted, what she craved.

Her moans grew louder, though muffled, as her lips and tongue worked in perfect sync with your movements. Her usual confidence had melted away, leaving behind a raw vulnerability that only fueled you further. This side of you—assertive, unrelenting—was something she hadn’t expected, and the way she gave herself over to it was driving you wild.

You tightened your grip on her hair, guiding her more firmly as her hands clutched at your thighs for balance. Her breathing was heavy, her moans blending with the wet, rhythmic sounds that filled the room. Tears began to streak her cheeks as her throat constricted around you, her body tensing slightly as she fought to keep up. Still, her eyes never left yours, wide and watery but filled with trust and unmistakable arousal.

Her muffled cries grew needier as your rhythm intensified, her nails digging into your thighs as her body trembled. The tension coiled tighter and tighter in your core, every sound she made pushing you closer to the edge. When her moan vibrated against you again, it sent you spiraling, your hips moving faster, rougher, with a desperation you couldn’t suppress.

You felt yourself reaching the breaking point, your control slipping entirely. Lia’s breathing hitched, her hands shifting to grip you tighter as you thrust one last time. Your release hit like a flood, overwhelming and unstoppable. A guttural groan tore from your throat as you came, the heat surging through you in waves. Lia’s body instinctively tensed beneath you. Her throat worked desperately, swallowing each hot pulse as it filled her mouth. Her gag reflex kicked in more than once, her soft, choked sounds blending with the wet, rhythmic movements that echoed in the room. Despite her efforts, some of it spilled from the corners of her lips, trickling down her chin in thin, glistening streams. Her hands gripped your thighs tighter, her nails pressing into your skin as she did her best to keep up, her flushed cheeks stained with tears and exertion.

Her breathing was uneven, her body trembling with the effort to take everything you gave her. When you finally pulled back, a string of fluid connected you briefly before breaking, her tongue darting out to clean her lips as she gasped for air. Lia’s eyes lifted to meet yours, glassy and dazed, her expression a mix of exhaustion, surprise, and something playful.

She wiped at her chin with the back of her hand, her lips curving into a faint, teasing smile. “Fuck that was hot,” she murmured hoarsely, her voice laced with mischief despite her breathlessness. “What's gotten into you?”

You didn’t respond, the fire in your chest still burning too hot for words. Instead, you leaned down slightly and tapped your member against her cheek a couple of times, the wet sound punctuating the charged silence. Lia blinked up at you, her flushed face lighting up with surprise, a soft gasp escaping her lips.

Without a word, you reached down, your hands finding hers as you pulled her to her feet in one smooth motion. She let out a soft, surprised laugh, stumbling slightly against your chest. Her body was still trembling, her knees unsteady from the intensity of what had just happened. She clung to you for balance, her breath brushing against your neck as she steadied herself. 

Before she could add anything else, your hands moved to her sweatshirt, gripping the fabric at the hem. Her laughter faded into a small, knowing smile as she raised her arms without hesitation, letting you strip it off her in one smooth motion. The air between you felt charged, electric, as the garment fell to the floor.

Her shorts followed quickly, her own fingers fumbling with the waistband as though eager to match your urgency. The two of you moved in tandem, discarding every barrier until she stood before you, bare and breathtaking in the dim light. The soft glow illuminated every curve, every flushed detail of her skin, making her look impossibly beautiful.

You climbed onto the bed, hovering over Lia as she lay beneath you, her chest rising and falling rapidly, her body still trembling from the intensity of earlier. Without a word, you captured her lips in a bruising kiss, pouring all the frustration, anger, and sadness you’d been bottling up into the connection. Her soft moan was muffled against your mouth as she melted into you, her hands reaching up to grip your shoulders.

You didn’t stop there. Your lips trailed away from hers, moving down the curve of her jaw to her neck, where you nipped at her skin with sharp, deliberate bites. Lia gasped and squirmed beneath you, her body reacting instinctively to each sting of your teeth, her fingers clutching at you for balance. The sound of her soft whimpers drove you on, each one fueling the storm raging inside you.

Your hands gripped her thighs, holding her steady as you moved lower, leaving a trail of heated kisses down to her collarbone. You didn’t hesitate to bite there too, hard enough to make her arch her back, her body pressing closer to you as though craving the sting. Her breaths grew quicker, her chest heaving as she writhed beneath your relentless attention.

Her squirming only pushed you further, your need to control, to channel the storm within you, manifesting in the way you held her down. One hand moved to her neck, wrapping around her throat in a firm, deliberate grip. Lia’s reaction was immediate—her body froze for a second, her breath catching, before her eyes fluttered open, locking onto yours. There was no fear in her gaze, only surprise and raw, unfiltered desire.

You didn’t pause, letting your other hand slide down her body, brushing over her stomach before reaching her folds. The heat and slickness there were undeniable, and it made you tighten your grip on her neck as your fingers teased her entrance. Lia gasped, her body jerking at the touch, her hands clutching at the sheets for balance as her hips instinctively pressed toward you.

You didn’t slow down, slipping two fingers inside her in one swift, deliberate motion. Her reaction was instant—a choked moan escaping her lips as her body arched against your hand, her thighs trembling uncontrollably. You tightened your grip on her neck, holding her firmly in place as you set a rough, relentless rhythm, each thrust of your fingers matching the intensity of your emotions.

Her breaths came in short, desperate gasps, her body completely at your mercy. You didn’t let up, your fingers curling inside her, hitting all the right spots as her moans grew louder. The way she reacted—the way her body writhed and her voice broke with every movement—pushed you further into the haze of emotion driving your every move.

Lia’s hands gripped the sheets tightly, her knuckles white as she clawed at the fabric, her head tilting back as her lips parted in a silent plea. Her hips began to shift, trying instinctively to pull away from the overwhelming sensations, but you didn’t give her the chance. Each time her body tried to escape, you followed her movement with ruthless precision, maintaining the relentless pace that left her gasping and trembling beneath you.

“Please,” she choked out, her voice cracking as her hips jerked sharply against your hand, torn between chasing the pleasure and trying to find relief from the intensity. Her thighs quivered as the wet, obscene sounds from her folds filled the room, mixing with her soft, desperate whimpers.

Your fingers thrust with relentless precision, plunging deeply while curling just enough to make Lia cry out with every motion. Her gasps turned into desperate, broken cries, the sound spilling from her lips in sharp, uneven bursts. The way her body tightened and arched against your hand drove you further, your thumb brushing over her clit—first in slow, deliberate circles, then pressing firmly and flicking sharply as her hips jolted against you.

The hand around her neck tightened slightly, your fingers pressing just enough to make her breath catch. The mix of pressure and roughness sent her spiraling, her voice breaking into a low, guttural moan as her eyes fluttered open briefly, wide and glassy, before rolling shut again. Her legs trembled uncontrollably, her entire body trembling as your thumb quickened its pace, alternating between firm, relentless circles and sharp, deliberate flicks that made her hips buck wildly.

Her thighs tried to clamp shut around your hand, her body instinctively attempting to shield itself from the overwhelming sensations, but you didn’t stop. Your pace only grew faster, harder, as though chasing something deeper. Her moans turned into broken cries, her hips jerking helplessly against your hand as you pushed her closer and closer to the edge.

The slick heat from her folds coated your fingers as her walls tightened around you, her body reacting to every motion. Her breath hitched, her cries becoming louder, more desperate. Her hips jerked erratically, trying to escape your relentless pace, but you didn’t let up. The grip on her neck tightened again, her breath coming in shallow gasps as her eyes snapped open for a moment, unfocused and dazed.

“God—” she managed to choke out, her voice breaking as her body convulsed. “I—can’t—”

Her body tensed beneath your touch, her breathing erratic as she teetered on the edge of release. Just as the moment was about to break, you pulled your fingers out abruptly and delivered a sharp smack to her folds. The sudden sting and shock sent a jolt through her entire body, her back arching violently off the bed as a strangled moan tore from her throat.

That was it. Lia shattered beneath you, her climax crashing over her like a tidal wave. Her thighs clamped around your hand, trapping you there as her cries turned raw and broken, each sound carrying the intensity of her release. Her body convulsed, trembling violently as wave after wave of pleasure overtook her. Her hands clutched at the sheets, her nails digging into the fabric as her hips jerked uncontrollably, seeking and shying away from the overwhelming sensations.

You held her firmly, your grip on her neck steady, grounding her as your hand returned to her folds. Your fingers worked with deliberate precision, prolonging her climax as her cries grew louder, more desperate. Her hips bucked wildly against your hand, her body writhing beneath you as she gave in completely to the pleasure overtaking her.

Her release seemed endless, the intensity of it leaving her gasping for breath as her body quaked under your control. The room was filled with the sound of her broken moans and the rhythmic slap of your palm against her oversensitive lips. Each touch seemed to reignite the flames, drawing out her pleasure until her body collapsed back against the bed, trembling and spent.

As the aftershocks coursed through her, her breaths came in ragged, uneven gasps, her chest rising and falling rapidly. Her skin glistened in the dim light, her face flushed and damp as she tried to catch her breath.

You loosened your grip on her neck, your fingers brushing lightly against her skin as you leaned over her. Lia’s eyes fluttered open slowly, glassy and unfocused, her lips parting in a faint, breathless smile. Her body continued to tremble slightly, the lingering sensations leaving her utterly undone beneath you.

You guided Lia’s trembling, sensitive body onto the bed with deliberate intent, her flushed skin glistening as she struggled to catch her breath. Her wide, dazed eyes met yours, still hazy from the intensity of her previous climax, but you weren’t done—not yet. Slowly, you lay down and pulled her back against you, arranging her pliant body with steady hands.

Her back pressed firmly to your chest, her legs spread wide and bent at the knees, her thighs trembling as you slipped your hands beneath them. Your grip steadied her, your fingers curling securely around the back of her thighs, holding her legs in place and spreading her open. The position left her entirely vulnerable, every inch of her body on display. Her arms rested near her sides, loosely pinned between your bodies, emphasizing her complete surrender to you.

Her head tilted back against your shoulder, her neck fully exposed, giving you an unobstructed view of her flushed cheeks, parted lips, and the faint sheen of sweat that glistened on her skin. Lia let out a soft, breathless gasp as the new position registered, her body tensing briefly before relaxing into your hold.

The vulnerability of it, the way your grip anchored her while she was spread open, only seemed to heighten her arousal. “Where did you learn this?…” she murmured, her voice trailing off into a whimper as she felt you press against her entrance. The sensation made her hips shift instinctively, her body eager and trembling as she surrendered completely to the moment.

Without hesitation, you entered her in one deep, deliberate motion. The pace was fast and unrelenting from the start, your thrusts deep and purposeful as you held her firmly in place. Lia cried out, her voice breaking into a desperate moan as her body responded immediately. The position allowed you to reach depths you hadn’t before, and her body clenched tightly around you, the new sensation overwhelming her.

Her head tilted back against your shoulder, her eyes fluttering shut as she gave herself over to you completely. The sheer submissiveness of her posture, her willingness to let you take control, drove you on. You leaned down, your lips brushing the curve of her neck as you pressed open-mouthed kisses along her flushed skin, your teeth grazing lightly before biting down just enough to make her gasp.

Lia let out a trembling gasp as your hand found her clit again, circling it with a firm intensity that made her entire body jolt against you. Her thighs quivered uncontrollably, her hips writhing in an attempt to escape the relentless stimulation. “Wait—” she whimpered, her voice breaking as she tried to shift away from your touch. “I’m sensitive—too much…”

Her words barely registered, muffled by the storm in your mind. The frustration and anger churned like a relentless tide, the image of her smiling, her hand entwined with someone else’s, replaying in your head like a haunting refrain. It consumed you, fueling the roughness in every movement.

You tightened your hold, your hands locking her helplessly in place. Her legs trembled, trying to close against the overstimulation, but the position left her completely vulnerable. With her legs spread wide and pinned by her own weight, she had no leverage, no way to resist as you drove her higher. Her body squirmed, her hips shifting desperately, but your arm around her wrists and your thighs holding hers apart ensured she couldn’t escape.

You leaned in, pressing your lips to the back of her neck where you could reach, the soft curve of her skin damp with sweat. The kiss was possessive, claiming, and when you bit down, she let out a sharp cry, her body arching against yours. The sting of your teeth sent a fresh wave of shivers through her, her voice breaking into a soft whimper as you soothed the bite with another heated kiss.

Lia’s body trembled, her reactions raw and desperate. Each time you bit down, harder now, her cries grew louder, her head tilting back to expose more of her neck as though surrendering completely. Her thighs tried to press together again, but the position made it impossible, leaving her entirely at your mercy.

Her pleas melted into choked moans when your hand left her clit briefly, only to return with a sharp slap. The sound echoed in the room, followed by her broken cry as her body jolted against you. The sting sent her closer to the edge, her breath hitching in ragged gasps as her hips jerked involuntarily.

The relentless combination—the deep, fast thrusts, the circling of your fingers on her clit, and the sharp bites you pressed to her shoulder and neck—pushed her further into a haze of overwhelming sensation. Her cries grew louder, her body trembling violently as she fought against the intensity. Even as her hips shifted and tried to twist away, her body betrayed her with every shiver of arousal, her movements weak and yielding to your pace.

Just as her body tensed in anticipation of release, you pressed harder against her clit, your fingers moving in swift, relentless circles. Lia gasped, her walls clenching tightly around you as her entire body strained, her climax teetering on the brink.

When you sensed she was at her limit, you delivered a sharp, deliberate slap to her clit. Lia screamed, her voice raw and broken as her body convulsed violently. The sharp sting mingled with the overwhelming pleasure, the combination tearing through her with a force that left her trembling uncontrollably. Her thighs twitched against your hands, her chest heaving as she sobbed softly, her cries a mix of pleasure and surrender.

You didn’t stop, your fingers continuing to flick and slap her nub while your thrusts maintained their relentless pace. Her body collapsed further against yours, her legs trembling as the overstimulation sent her spiraling beyond her limits. Another broken scream tore from her throat before her body finally gave out, her muscles going slack as she slumped back onto you, her head falling onto your shoulder.

Her breath came in ragged, uneven gasps, her body trembling as aftershocks coursed through her. You released her wrists, your hands smoothing over her legs as you pressed soft kisses to her temple and along the marks your teeth had left on her shoulder. Her breathing gradually steadied, her skin still flushed and damp as she tried to catch her breath.

Your pace didn’t falter, even as Lia slumped further against you, her body trembling and utterly spent. The overstimulation of her climax had left her broken in the best way, her cries now soft whimpers, her breath hot and uneven against your neck. Her legs remained pinned, trembling as your relentless thrusts sent aftershocks rippling through her. Each deep motion made her body react instinctively, her hips twitching as though trying to pull away, but the position left her helpless, completely at your mercy.

As the intensity built, her breaths grew sharper, her head tilting back against your shoulder. The haze of her earlier release lingered in her glassy eyes, her thoughts slow and unfocused. Yet, as your thrusts grew faster and more erratic, realization flickered faintly in her expression. She gasped softly, her thighs twitching against your hold.

“Wait…” she murmured, her voice trembling and breathless, her mind catching up to what her body already knew. “Don’t… don’t cum inside me,” she pleaded, her tone cracking under the weight of her exhaustion and arousal.

Her words were faint, almost drowned out by the rhythmic sound of your hips meeting hers. Her protest lacked strength, her body betraying her as her warmth clenched tightly around you, pulling you deeper with every motion. Even as she tried to speak again, her words dissolved into soft, broken whimpers, her thighs trembling violently as her overstimulated body refused to resist what was coming.

You could feel the tension coiling tighter, the edge drawing closer with every thrust. Her whispered plea echoed faintly in your mind, but the overwhelming heat, the way she writhed beneath you, the way her body pulled you in, made it impossible to stop. The last thread of your restraint snapped as her walls tightened around you one final time.

“Fuck…” you murmured hoarsely, your voice trembling with the urgency of your release. Her body stiffened briefly, her lips parting in a faint gasp of realization, but she couldn’t move, her legs pinned wide and her body limp in your hold.

With a guttural groan, you pressed as deep as you could, your release surging into her in powerful, shuddering waves. Lia’s breath hitched sharply, her fingers weakly clutching at your arms as she felt the warmth spreading inside her. “Oh my God…” she whispered, her voice barely audible as her head fell forward, her body twitching in response to the unfamiliar sensation. The flush on her cheeks deepened, a mix of disbelief and something unspoken as she lay trembling against you.

When the last tremors subsided, you loosened your grip slightly, your hands smoothing over her legs as they remained draped across your hips. Her breathing was ragged, her chest rising and falling rapidly as she tried to catch her breath. The room was quiet except for the faint sound of your mingled breathing, heavy with the weight of what had just happened.

Lia’s voice came out as a whisper, trembling with exhaustion but edged with frustration. “Too much… it was too much…” Her body twitched beneath you, her trembling legs sprawled limply against your hips. Her chest rose and fell in uneven gasps, her gaze hazy but laced with something sharper as she tried to steady herself.

Then her eyes locked onto yours, and the flush on her cheeks deepened, no longer just from exertion. “I can’t believe you came inside me,” she muttered, her voice low but biting. “You know we can’t do that.”

Her words cut through the heavy air, and for a moment, her expression hardened as she tried to assert control over the whirlwind of emotions swirling between you. But the tension in her brows faltered as her body gave a faint, involuntary shudder, the lingering sensation of everything pooling inside her impossible to ignore.

She shifted slightly in your hold, her thighs twitching, her skin hypersensitive and her mind torn between anger and something much more confusing. Her lips parted as if she wanted to say more, to reprimand you further, but no words came. Instead, she turned her head to the side, her expression tight, though not entirely resolute.

Inside, you could tell she was battling herself. The heat spreading across her neck and cheeks, the way her legs trembled against yours, betrayed a truth she didn’t want to face. Even though she was angry—she had every reason to be—the intensity of what had happened, the rawness of being completely at your mercy, lingered in ways she couldn’t deny.

Lia let out a sharp exhale, her body relaxing slightly against you as her anger seemed to ebb, replaced by a reluctant acceptance. Her head fell back onto the pillow, her breathing still uneven, her lips pressing together in a faint line. The silence between you was heavy, her internal conflict palpable, as the reality of the moment settled over both of you.

Her eyes met yours, and for a moment, the air between you was filled with something unspoken, a tenderness that lingered even as exhaustion pulled at you both.

“Jisu,” you said suddenly, the word breaking the silence like a crack of thunder.

She turned onto her side, propping herself up on one elbow to look at you. “Hmm?”

“Can this ever be more?” The question came out unsteady, raw with emotion, as though it had torn its way out of you.

Her smile faded, replaced by something gentler but distant. She sighed softly, the blanket slipping slightly as she shifted to sit up. “We’ve talked about this,” she said, her tone careful but firm. “The reason this works is because it’s casual. It’s… uncomplicated. That’s why it’s good.”

You turned your head to look at her, searching her expression for something—anything—that might suggest she felt the same way you did. But all you saw was a calm resolve. “You’re great,” she continued, her voice quieter now. “You really are. But if we start complicating things, it’ll ruin what we have, could you imagine even trying to do this while one of us has feelings.”

Her words struck you like a punch, each one cutting deeper than the last. You forced a small, hollow smile, nodding as if you understood. “Yeah,” you said quietly. “You’re right…”

Lia’s hand brushed over your arm lightly, reassuringly, before she lay back down beside you, curling into your side as though nothing had happened. But something had. For you, the illusion that this could be enough had shattered, and no matter how hard you tried to tell yourself otherwise, you couldn’t shake the feeling that this was the beginning of the end.

As Lia slept peacefully beside you, you stared at the ceiling, your mind racing. You couldn’t keep doing this—not when your feelings for her only grew stronger with each passing day, and not when she had made it clear she would never see you the way you saw her.

You slipped out of her bed quietly, careful not to wake her. The city lights outside her window cast long shadows across the room as you let out a soft apology,dressed and left. You told yourself that it would be the last time, that you couldn’t go back—not for her, not for anyone. You needed to find someone who would value you, who would want you the way you wanted them.

-----

The next morning, Lia woke up alone, sunlight filtering softly through her curtains as the warmth of the day began to creep into the room. She stirred slowly, her body aching in unfamiliar ways—her neck, her thighs, her core—all reminders of the intensity of the night before. She shifted slightly, wincing at the tenderness, and as the memories flooded back, her cheeks flushed with heat. The rawness of how you had been with her, the way you had consumed her so completely, lingered in her mind, each thought sending a fresh wave of warmth coursing through her.

Reaching for her phone, she hesitated for a moment, her fingers hovering over the screen. After a deep breath, she typed a quick message: “Last night was amazing. Thank you.”

She hit send, expecting the usual quick reply. You were always good at responding, rarely making her wait more than a few minutes. It was one of the constants she had come to rely on—your availability, your attentiveness. But as the minutes stretched into hours, her screen remaining frustratingly blank, she shrugged it off. You’re probably just busy, she told herself, though a faint unease began to creep into her thoughts, like a whisper she couldn’t ignore.

Life moved forward, as it always did, her schedule swallowing her days whole. But the unease grew, a quiet nagging in the back of her mind that wouldn’t go away. Still no reply. No follow-up. No late-night texts asking about her day or teasing her about something silly. It was unlike you, and with every passing day, it became harder to shake the feeling that something was wrong.

Desperate for distraction, she agreed to another date with the idol, convincing herself it was the right thing to do. But from the moment they sat down at the trendy café, everything about the evening felt wrong. The vibrant chatter of the other patrons blurred into background noise, his words barely registering as she stared down at her phone, her thumb hovering over the unanswered message. It sat there, unopened, like a stark reminder of your absence.

He tried to make conversation, asking about her work and cracking lighthearted jokes, but her responses were flat, distracted. Her mind kept drifting—back to you. She could almost hear your laugh, picture the way you would have teased her about spending too much time scrolling on her phone. She thought about the little things you did, the gestures that had woven themselves into her daily life: bringing her food after late practices, the way you always seemed to know when she needed comforting, and the talks that stretched into the early hours of the morning when her world felt too heavy.

Her chest tightened as she realized it wasn’t just about the sex anymore—though that had been incredible. It was everything else, the way you had quietly become her anchor without her noticing. She missed you, in ways that went beyond physical, in ways she couldn’t ignore.

As the date dragged on, her unease grew heavier. She looked at him across the table, saw the effort he was putting into keeping her attention, and felt the guilt creep in. He wasn’t the problem. He was polite, charming even, but he wasn’t you. He didn’t make her feel grounded the way you did. He didn’t know her tells, didn’t know how to navigate her quiet moods or the way her smiles didn’t always reach her eyes.

She excused herself earlier than planned, her heart heavy as she walked out into the cool night air. Her fingers hovered over her phone again, the thought of calling you overwhelming her. But as she stared at your name in her contacts, she couldn’t bring herself to press it. Not yet.

Days turned into a week, and Lia’s desperation grew. Every thought of you tightened the ache in her chest, the longing building until it was impossible to ignore. It wasn’t just about the intimacy anymore—it was everything else. The little moments, the times you made her feel understood, cared for, seen. The absence of those moments was suffocating.

She couldn’t shake the feeling that something inside her was shifting. Something she hadn’t wanted to see before but now couldn’t deny. You weren’t just her escape, her comfort—you had become something so much more. Finally, she turned to someone she trusted: Yeji.

The three of you had always been close, bonded not just by your ages but by a shared sense of humor and camaraderie. After practice one evening, Lia found Yeji in the lounge, scrolling through her phone. Her heart pounded as she sat down across from her, working up the courage to speak.

“Yeji,” Lia began, her voice quieter than usual as she fidgeted with the edge of her hoodie.

Yeji glanced up, raising an eyebrow. “What’s up?”

Lia hesitated, her usual confidence replaced by uncertainty. “You know about… my arrangement, right?”

Yeji set her phone down, her gaze sharpening slightly. “Oh, yeah,” she said, a hint of amusement in her tone. “I know about it.”

Lia’s fingers twisted the fabric of her hoodie, her nerves fraying. “Have you… talked to him lately? Do you know where he is?”

Yeji’s expression softened, the teasing fading as she leaned back against the couch. “Yeah, we’ve talked,” she admitted, her voice even. “But I don’t think I should tell you more than that.”

The words hit Lia harder than she expected. Her stomach twisted, and her voice dropped. “Why not?” she asked, almost pleading. “I just… I miss him. I didn’t think I would, but I do. I didn’t realize how much he meant to me until he wasn’t there anymore.”

Yeji sighed, studying her closely. “Lia, you have to ask yourself why he’s not here right now,” she said, her voice steady but not unkind. “You had to know how he felt—maybe you didn’t want to admit it, but it was obvious.”

Lia looked down, her throat tightening as Yeji’s words sank in. “I didn’t mean to hurt him,” she murmured. “I just… I didn’t know.”

Yeji leaned forward slightly, her voice softer now. “I think he needed space, Lia. He couldn’t keep pretending to be okay with what you two had. And now? I think you’re realizing how much he really means to you.”

Lia’s fingers curled tightly around her hoodie, her heart sinking further. “I miss him,” she said quietly. “Not just… what we had. I miss everything. I don’t know what to do.”

Yeji shook her head gently. “I’m not going to tell you where he is—it wouldn’t be fair. But if you feel this way, you need to figure it out before it’s too late.”

Lia nodded slowly, Yeji’s words settling heavily in her chest. For the next few days, she replayed every moment in her mind—every late-night talk, every thoughtful gesture, every quiet look that made her feel safe. The realization of how much she missed you, how deeply she cared, grew sharper with each passing day.

Finally, she couldn’t take it anymore. Lia grabbed her phone with trembling hands and called. The first call went to voicemail, then the next, and the one after that. Still, she didn’t stop. Each unanswered ring only heightened her desperation. She began texting, her messages growing shorter and more frantic with each passing hour.

“I need to talk to you.”“Please, can you call me back?”“Just… say something.”

When the texts went unanswered, she left voicemails, her voice cracking under the weight of her emotions. “I… I really want to talk. Please, can we meet? Just let me know.” Every message sounded more raw than the last, the silence on the other end of the line gnawing at her chest like an open wound.

She lost count of how many times she called—her phone logs a mess of missed attempts, her inbox filled with drafts of unsent messages she couldn’t bring herself to delete. Each night, she lay awake, staring at her phone, willing it to light up with your name. The waiting was unbearable, each moment stretching endlessly as hope began to waver.

Just when she was on the verge of giving up, her phone buzzed. Her heart skipped a beat, and she scrambled to pick it up. It was you. A simple message: “Okay. Let’s meet.”

Relief and apprehension washed over her in equal measure. She stared at the screen, her fingers hovering over the keyboard, unsure how to respond. After a long pause, she simply typed, “Thank you.”

-----

When you finally met, the air was heavy with tension, every unspoken word between you settling like a weight in the small café. Lia sat across from you, her usual poise stripped away. Her hands fidgeted in her lap, twisting the edge of her sleeve, her eyes fixed on the untouched coffee in front of her. The faintest hint of color rose in her cheeks, betraying the vulnerability she was trying to hide.

You watched her carefully, your own nerves coiling tighter with every second of silence. Her lips parted slightly, as though she wanted to speak, but the words didn’t come right away. Finally, she took a deep breath and looked up at you.

“I’m sorry,” she said, her voice trembling but steady enough to hold your gaze. “For everything. For not seeing how you felt, for taking you for granted.”

Her words caught you off guard, the raw honesty cutting through the tension. You blinked, unsure how to respond at first. “I should be the one apologizing,” you said after a moment, your voice quieter than you intended. “For ghosting you, for catching feelings in the first place. I—”

“Don’t,” Lia interrupted gently, her voice firm but laced with regret. Her eyes finally met yours, and the warmth there made your chest ache. “Don’t apologize for liking me. Please. I need to say something first.”

You froze, her words silencing the flood of guilt that had been building inside you. She fidgeted with her sleeve, her gaze flickering downward for a moment before she looked back at you, her expression unguarded.

“I like you,” she said softly, the words landing with a weight that made your breath catch. “So much. I think I have for a while, but I didn’t know… or maybe I just didn’t let myself realize it. I got so comfortable with you always being there, and when you were gone, it felt like a piece of me was missing.”

Her cheeks flushed deeper, and her hands stilled as she continued, her voice trembling but resolute. “I thought keeping things casual was easier—safer—because I didn’t want to risk losing you. But I was selfish. I didn’t think about what you needed or how much it might be hurting you.

Her voice cracked slightly, but she didn’t stop. “I’m so sorry for everything. For not being considerate of your feelings, for pushing you away when you tried to tell me how you felt. You deserved more than that—more than I gave you—and it kills me that I hurt you because I was too scared to be honest.”

Her words tumbled out in a rush, raw and vulnerable. She took another breath, her eyes glistening as she looked at you, waiting. “Do you still…” she began, her voice quieter now, hesitant. “Do you still like me? Because if you do… I promise I’ll be better. I’ll try harder. I won’t take you for granted again.”

The question hung in the air, heavy and trembling with sincerity. You stared at her, the tight ache in your chest threatening to spill over. The vulnerability in her eyes, the way her fingers nervously twisted at her sleeve, the unsteady rise and fall of her breath—it was Lia, stripped of all pretense, offering herself to you in a way she never had before.

“I miss you,” you said, your voice thick with emotion, the words spilling out before you could stop them. “More than I can even say. And yes, Lia, I still like you. I don’t think I ever stopped.”

Her lips parted slightly, her eyes widening as relief and hope washed over her face. A small, trembling smile broke through her uncertainty, and she reached across the table, her hand brushing yours. You didn’t hesitate, your fingers curling around hers as the tension between you seemed to dissolve, replaced by a quiet, tentative warmth.

For a moment, neither of you moved, the air between you heavy but no longer with tension—this time, it was full of possibility. Lia’s fingers tightened slightly around yours, her gaze searching your face as though she was committing this moment to memory. Then, softly, she asked, “Can I… kiss you?”

Her voice was quiet, almost shy, a stark contrast to the confident Lia you had always known. You felt your breath hitch, the question catching you off guard even though you knew the answer. You nodded, unable to form words, and her lips twitched into a faint, nervous smile.

When she leaned forward, the world around you seemed to still. The noise of the café, the clinking of dishes, the hum of conversations—it all faded as her face came closer, her hand still firmly in yours. The first brush of her lips against yours was tentative, testing, but the moment they met, something shifted.

This kiss wasn’t like the others. You’d kissed Lia before—passionate, heated, messy kisses in the haze of your arrangement. But this? This was entirely different. This kiss wasn’t rushed, wasn’t fueled by lust or need. It was soft, deliberate, full of emotion you hadn’t allowed yourself to name before. It felt like kissing her for the first time, like discovering something new, something sacred.

Her lips were warm and inviting, moving against yours with a tenderness that sent shivers through you. There was no urgency, no pretense, just the quiet connection between you as the kiss deepened, your free hand instinctively reaching up to cradle her cheek. She leaned into your touch, her fingers threading lightly through your hair as she let out a soft sigh, her body relaxing into the moment.

For Lia, the kiss was no less transformative. She’d kissed you countless times before, but this—this felt like peeling away every wall she’d built, every mask she’d worn. This was the kiss she hadn’t let herself imagine, the kiss she hadn’t realized she needed until now. It wasn’t just the physical connection—it was the way your hand trembled slightly as you cupped her cheek, the way you held her like she was the most important thing in the world.

When you finally pulled back, both of you were breathless, your foreheads resting against each other as your eyes met. Her lips were parted, her cheeks flushed, her gaze full of something you couldn’t quite describe but felt deep in your chest. You could see it reflected back at you: this wasn’t just a kiss. This was everything.

“That…” Lia murmured softly, her voice trailing off as she searched for the right words, her fingers brushing against your jaw. “That felt… different.”

“Yeah,” you whispered, your voice low and raw with emotion. “It did.”

Neither of you moved to pull away, the space between you too fragile, too precious to break. For the first time, it felt like you were both on the same page, and the weight of everything that had come before fell away, leaving only the warmth of this moment.

The silence stretched again, but this time it felt less heavy, more open—like the air between you had shifted, lighter somehow. You cleared your throat, your fingers drumming lightly against the edge of the table as you searched for the right words, your heartbeat quickening with each passing second. “So, um…” you began, awkwardness thick in your voice as your eyes darted away from hers. “If you’re free later… I mean, after this—if you want, we could, I don’t know, grab dinner or something?”

Lia tilted her head slightly, her lips curving into a small, knowing smile that widened just enough to let you know she understood exactly what you were trying to say. Her cheeks flushed faintly, the color rising against her soft complexion. “Are you asking me out?” she teased lightly, her tone warm, her eyes sparkling with a mixture of amusement and curiosity.

You let out a nervous laugh, rubbing the back of your neck as you tried to play it cool. “Maybe. I mean… yeah, I guess I am.”

Her smile softened into something more genuine, more tender. “I’d like that,” she said quietly, her voice carrying just the right hint of sincerity to make your chest feel lighter. “I haven’t eaten yet.”

The relief that washed over you was palpable, and without a second thought, you stood, holding out your hand. Lia’s gaze flicked down to your outstretched fingers, hesitation flickering for only a moment before she reached out and took your hand, her fingers curling around yours in a gesture that felt at once familiar and entirely new. Her touch sent a warmth through you, steadying your nerves as the tension between you eased further.

As you walked out of the café together, her hand warm in yours, the world around you seemed to blur into insignificance. The usual noise of the city streets—honking cars, chatter from passersby—faded into the background as the two of you fell into an easy rhythm. Lia’s steps matched yours, her shoulder occasionally brushing against your arm, and every now and then, you glanced at her. Her soft smile, illuminated by the golden glow of the streetlights, carried a quiet promise that made your heart ache in the best way.

You gave her hand a gentle squeeze, testing the waters, and she looked up at you, her eyes bright with a mixture of shyness and excitement. The small action spoke louder than words, her slight squeeze in return confirming what you both already knew: this wasn’t just two friends reconnecting. This was something new, something fragile yet full of possibility.

By the time you reached the restaurant, the hesitation you’d felt earlier had all but melted away. The hum of the city was a distant backdrop as you opened the door for her, gesturing for her to enter first. She smiled, murmuring a quiet “thank you” as she stepped inside, her gaze lingering on yours for just a beat longer than necessary.

Inside, the warm, inviting glow of the restaurant felt like an extension of the moment you were sharing. As you sat down, the conversation flowed more easily, the earlier tension giving way to lighthearted laughter and comfortable silences that spoke of a connection neither of you could deny. And as you watched her, her smile radiant and her eyes sparkling across the table, you knew without a doubt: this wasn’t just a return to what you had before. This was the beginning of something real.

[railingsofsorrow]

Game of Pretend

[Spencer Reid x Reader]

summary: In which friends with benefits go undercover as a married couple and they ended up playing the part almost too good.

pairing: spencer reid x f!bau!reader

w.c: 2.7K

warnings/content: criminal minds case related stuff; suggestive content (no smut!); graphic descriptions of violence and wounds; idiots in love/friends with benefits trope; their love language is touch, you'll notice that; just a little bit of angst.

A/N: and I'm back. again. this challenge motivated me to write cause I was really going through it. but anyways. this is my entry for @imagining-in-the-margins “Undercover Challenge” with the prompt “Characters go undercover as a married couple” and the dialogue prompt “I'm just acting.” “Oh, so you can make your heart race on command?”

navi

masterpost

criminal minds masterlist

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“He’s looking over here.”

You looked at your partner, taking a sip of your non-alcoholic beverage slowly as you slightly inclined your neck to watch the UnSub having a drink in the other end of the bar counter.

“Let’s start the show then.” You winked at Spencer, earning a scowl that he quickly masked into a loving smile towards you.

Such an in love husband.

“He’s staring at her.”

JJ’s voice boomed into your ear as a warning as you reached for Spencer's hand, intertwining your fingers.

“My mom wants us to visit her first thing after the honeymoon.” You said, playing with the straw of your cup. “We should extend it.” That got a laugh out of him and you felt his curls tickling your temple as he leaned closer.

“We can do whatever you want.”

“Whatever I want?”

“Yeah, baby.” You didn't know why the nickname surprised you but it did.

Spencer watched as your eyes traveled across this face in contemplation, wonder. He's just playing his part.

“Whatever I want huh?” You hummed softly, cheek leaning on your hand. Spencer knew that expression. He has lived with it these past months whenever you were going to do something you knew would piss him off. Often to tease him.

God he hated that look. Your teasing was relentless.

He pulled a strand of your hair behind your ear, his hand lingering near your cheek. His touch was warm and in spite of not really being a fan of physical touch, you'd always find yourself leaning closer to Spencer at certain moments. He represented some type of safety to you, you never really read too much into it, but you also never denied yourself to be close to him when you wanted to.

The way his eyes briefly shifted from behind you to you again told you the UnSub was closer this time.

“We could maybe do that thing in bed we were thinking of trying…”

The way Spencer choked on his own spit — he had a drink but he didn't even touch it — made you grin so big your mouth could split open. What he did with touches you were able to do with words.

“Kinky.”

You heard through your earpiece and Emily's voice almost got you to crack. You didn't.

He leaned in closer, his voice dropping to a whisper, “Well, I have a few ideas I’ve been wanting to try but yeah, it's not like we have all the time in the world now.” You bit your cheek, hating the fact that he paid with the same coin. You, on the other hand, felt your neck heating up. His honey brown eyes stared you down and you saw the edge of his lips quivering in amusement. Caught you. You could read his thoughts.

“Oh, shit! I'm so sorry, miss.”

And you needed the UnSub to act to get out of your staring contest, you didn't know if that was good or bad.

First move — to accidentally bump into his victims with his drink ✓

Perfectly done.

Second move — the victim goes into the women's bathroom to clean herself up.

Now, it's your move.

Spencer heavily glared at the man as he insisted to buy you another drink, but you squeezed his arm and brought his attention back to you. Your voice was calm and calculated, a pointed gaze sent his way. I'm going to the bathroom, watch out for his partner. I got him.

“I’ll come with you.”

You halted, practically feeling the guy's gaze on your back. He had walked away after apologizing a thousand times but he was the one to watch the woman enter the bathroom while his partner stayed outside with the car, ready to take off.

They had fallen for the bait, it had been a simple stakeout. The whole reason the women were caught without any commotion was because they went into the bathroom alone. So why the fuck did Spencer want to come in with you? It wasn't part of the plan.

“Honey, it's the women's restroom.” You laughed as if that was the most funny thing in the world. Hotch’s deep angry voice resonated through the earpiece, telling Spencer off. You didn't have time to dwell on it because you were already moving away from your husband's pouty figure.

Flashforward and you were sitting in the back of an ambulance with an EMT tending to your superficial wounds. Nothing serious happened, a minor physical conflict when the man noticed you were about to fight back. He got a punch in your eye. You knocked him out with a swing of your leg. That was it. Still, Spencer was fretting.

“You need a head CT.”

“You need to calm down.” You told him with a sigh after pulling him away from the EMT so he would stop bugging them about your health. “Jesus Christ, I've been through worse. Relax.”

“He had a syringe to your neck—” He started and you interrupted him with a bored tone.

“Didn’t even graze my neck, Spencer.”

“It could've!”

Your voice was resigned because you were tired. All you needed was your bed and sleep twenty-four hours straight. That fucking duo of bastards had you and your team chasing them for a week. “Okay, honey, drop the overprotective husband act. We're off the stage. I'm fine.”

Spencer seemed to get the point and left you alone. After Hotch congratulated you for a good undercover job, he let you know you were not going back tonight because the jet would only be ready in the morning. So yeah, no warm bed with your soft mattress and your fairy lights tonight. Just the old musty bedding in your motel bedroom. At least it was a room for one, you didn't have to share with anyone else neither would you have patience to do it.

Emily and JJ followed you on your way to your room. You noticed their exchange of looks right away.

“Spit it out.”

JJ blinked innocently at you. “What?”

Pressing your thumb against the bridge of your nose, you tiredly said, “You two are either flirting shamelessly right in front of me or silently discussing something about me. I believe is the second option so spit.it.out.”

Emily wasn't one to beat around the bush when it was something she wanted information on.

“You and Reid at the bar.”

“You mean where we served as bait to catch the UnSub?”

“That kinky talk all of a sudden, I mean.” Emily smirked as JJ chuckled beside her.

The only thing you could do was offer her a blank expression. You also knew how to play dumb like JJ just did a few seconds ago.

“Oh, please. He didn't even bat an eye at you!” She carried on, raising a brow. “Something’s going on, right?”

You narrowed your eyes at them.

“What is this, fifth grade?”

Emily let out a groan that echoed the hallway just as you reached your door. Their respective rooms were a few doors down.

“Told you she wouldn't reveal anything.”

“I had hope.”

You rolled your eyes before pressing your key in the keyhole and opening your door. “Goodnight, girls.”

You liked certainty.

It was so much easier when people would be straight forward and simply put the cards on the table to avoid misunderstandings.

You've had that trouble in relationships throughout your life. The experience of navigating a situationship on eggshells. Am I giving too much expectations? Am I having too many expectations? Is this even worth my time? Sometimes you just wanted to take the edge off. Simple and effective. No strings attached.

Somehow, you never had that issue with Spencer. That doubt.

“Serendipity,” he said one night. Your limbs were tangled under the sheets and he just blurted out the word as if you were supposed to know what it meant without any context.

You looked up at him, your lashes barely letting you open your eyes since your latest activities had tired you out. “What?” You were used to Spencer’s random bursts of smart comments.

“It means when you…” He paused to kiss the back of your neck, causing you to squirm away only briefly, a smile growing in your lips. “... find something good accidentally…” another kiss, his hands wrap around your waist slowly. “without meaning to.”

“Oh.” You turned around as his arms caged you in, supporting your torso against his chest. You liked how his eyes seemed relaxed after you spent a night together. Ever since you met Spencer, he never had a healthy night sleep. Either because of a good book or worry. He never really rested. You had that in common. That was probably why you two clicked immediately in more ways than one. “You’re saying i’m that something good you found, Doc? Careful, I'll start thinking you’re getting attached.”

Certainty was in your agreement when you decided to turn friends with benefits. Things were pretty clear for the two of you since the beginning. Both wanted to just… forget about your jobs for a little while. And that's what you did.

That agreement was none of everyone's concern but yours. So you didn't tell anyone. It was your own thing, which was going well so far.

Too well.

You were too good at ignoring signs. All your life, you've been so focused on not getting attached that it usually worked well in your favor. But you realized you fucked up when after a bad day the only person you wanted around was him. And sex wasn't what you had in mind. Spencer’s presence was inviting and all you desired after being (barely) beaten up was to tangle your limbs with his and call it a night.

That's bad. Your brain warned. Very bad. Cut it off before it gets worse.

You stood in front of his door, staring at the wood as if it would knock on its own. Why were you even there? Maybe you should apologize because you felt like you did something wrong when he looked pissed moments before he left the crime scene. But then you remembered that he left. How dare he?

He answered your harsh knocks with a confused frown. His glasses were perched up on the tip of his nose, probably had slipped down while he tried to sprint to answer the inconvenient person at the door in the middle of the night.

“Is everything okay?” You entered without an invite and crossed your arms, waiting patiently until he closed the door. You were mad. You didn't have any reason to be mad.

“You left.”

He placed the book you only now noticed was on his hand on the nightstand. His nose scrunching up in confusion. “Left what?”

“You left the crime scene.” You left me — you wish you had say but you would've sound like a jealous girlfriend. Which you were none. “Didn’t wait for anyone.”

He didn't reply right away, his eyes accessing you carefully. He wasn't mad anymore. He wasn't even mad before. Just frustrated. You were just doing your part of the job and he let emotion go in the middle. It happens. Though the absolute terror he felt right before he got into the restroom was another thing. He never felt that before, it didn't just happen.

“I was tired, just wanted to… get some rest.” His eyes then softened which contributed to you feeling like a fool. “I’m sorry I didn't wait for you.”

“That’s not the point.”

He nodded, approaching you with careful steps. He wanted to redeem himself. You sighed in exasperation, running a hand over your face but you flinched when you touched your wounded brow.

With a gentle touch to your chin, he tilted your head upwards to check on your wound. Your eyes followed him every move. You felt like you could melt into a puddle. His touch was exactly what you needed.

“Does it hurt too bad?”

“No.”

“It may still be sore.” He observed, brushing your hair away from your forehead. Your eyes fell shut, you couldn't help it, your body had its own mind. “I’m sorry I reacted that way. It wasn't professional.” He mumbled after a long pause between the two of you. You had already given up on your tough act, resting your cheek against his chest as his fingers worked through your hair.

“Fuck professional.” You said, nuzzling against his neck while your arms wrapped around his shoulders. You fit perfectly and that would always amaze you. Spencer never rejected your touch and it made you wonder, for a moment, if you were being unbearable. That thought was quickly shut down by him pressing you closer.

“Your heart is racing.” He pointed out, both of his arms tightening around you as if that was supposed to make it better.

“I’m just acting.” You whispered, enjoying the sound of his laughter after you said it.

Spencer leaned back, quirking up an eyebrow looking down at you “Oh, so you can make your heart race on command huh?”

“I bet you got a scientific fact just on the tip of your tongue.”

“When you exercise, your heart rate increases,” he started slowly and you felt his fingers draw up your shirt slightly. You liked where that was going. His raised his hand until it was right by your chest, so he pressed his open palm right by your heart. You ignored the shivering. “It is actually very easy to raise it. When you take the stairs… When you're running on a treadmill…” He lowered his lips to your neck. “But when you're not doing any hard work with your body, let's say, it's even easier. Like now.”

The way he pressed kisses down your neck made your eyes flutter shut.

“If you're experiencing strong emotions like excitement or… stress? Which I know isn't the case right now, is it?”

“Oh, shut up.”

He chuckled, kissing the corner of your mouth. Before he could move to your lips, you drew back, but not so much.

“I came here to talk to you about something.” He withdrew his hands from your waist, his fingers traveled up your arms and he squeezed them reassuringly, urging you to go on. “So… this. Between us. It's cool, right?” Suddenly, you weren't good at communication at all. You barely remembered your own name.

“Yes?” His brows furrowed slowly. “Why? Do you want to stop?”

Your brows shot up. “No! No. That's not— it's not about that.”

“What’s wrong?”

“Nothing’s wrong, I mean…” You place a hand on his chest, taking a deep breath so you could gather your thoughts. “It’s not that it's wrong. But. Have you ever considered…”

Spencer tilted his head so he would catch your gaze. “Considered…?”

“Becoming serious. Exclusive. Like a—you know.”

You would've pushed him back annoyed because of how his face was scrunching while he tried to prevent a laugh. He was laughing at you. He held you back, hand crawling up your back to keep you in place. You felt like a fool.

“Yes.” He whispered, cupping your cheeks to make you look at him despite your annoyance. “Yes, I do want to be a couple. Exclusive. Whatever you want to call it. I want you to be my girlfriend.”

“Don’t sound too excited.”

“But I am excited.” Spencer emphasized, pulling your face closer which made you smile a little. “I was waiting for the right time, I didn't want to pressure you. I thought you would cut me out of your life and I'd rather just… stay with our deal instead of that being the case.”

“I’d never cut you out of my life, Spencer.” You said with your shoulders slumping in disappointment that he even thought that.

He nodded, resting his forehead on yours and silence took over both of you for a moment. Just your breathing balancing together.

“Stay the night?” His request was useless because you were about to do that anyway.

“Mhm, yeah, I'll stay.”

“Good.” He kissed you, his warm hands wrapping around your waist. “Girlfriend, right?”

You let out a loud groan. “Shut up.”

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[thyfleshc0nsumed]

It costs something to be a TS woman vocal about transmisogyny.

For me, there's literal financial cost. When I write about it--in joking or serious manners--or share other people's writing on it, I lose followers. Even though this is a personal blog, it's probably the avenue through which the majority of people have found my leatherwork. And every time I open my mouth and say "hey here's my experience as a TS woman, here's my perspective on the way men treat women, here's how exactly I am marginalized even within this minority group," some people see that and decide they can't fuck with me (and likely my work) anymore.

And like, idk, it sucks. I have legitimately had the thought "if I shut up, I'd earn a bit more." For a lot of dolls, our careers are online because we're pushed out of traditional employment for one reason or another. I'm not the only one thinking these things.

Some of us decide to play 'the good one,' 'the one who doesn't bring down the vibe,' 'the one who proves all those other trannies are just man-hating transradfems,' to the result of their own financial benefit.

I don't think it's usually such a cynical or calculated decision, often I think people know more than they can name, but I think somewhere in them, they know that there is a cost that can be measured in dollars and cents to having a backbone. There's benefit to discarding the thought altogether.

That benefit is amplified by, well, the gender pay gap. If you make something catered to a broadly trans audience, which group among that audience is more likely to have a bit of disposable income? Yes, trans men earn less than cis people, but which gender group earns less than them?

Idk if I really have a point here besides kinda just venting, but yeah, it sucks that this is the case and idk if I've seen anyone else talk about it in such terms, in the specific context of the internet. Blah.

[centrally-unplanned]

To fulfill my insufferable grey tribe quota after the antitrust post, there are some industries where the inherent monopoly is strong enough that corporate management is always going to be rent extractive in some form. Exclusive infrastructure is the most common form of this - many in the US live in broadband internet monopolies, where since private providers own the actual wire connections and building duplicate connections is incredibly wasteful, a lot of areas have only one provider who by metrics offers worse services at higher prices than in peer countries (tangent note: breaking them up nationally does nothing to address this locally) . There are still constraints - you can get hotspot internet, satellite internet, etc, these do bind prices - but they are weak.

Similar things apply to some public transit; private companies owning a subway line have a monopoly because you absolutely should not build a second line for competition's sake. They still have to price around alternate modes of transit, for sure, but depending on the city there is a "cost gap" they can extract rent from.

All of this is to say that some countries address this via price controls, and it works just fine! Tokyo's subway is managed by private companies, but the government directly intervenes in their pricing strategies, capping profit margins. Dozens of countries have price controls on various utilities. Any publicly owned company is, in a sense, doing price controls unless they are operating as a purely for-profit entity. There are costs paid by these policies, of course, but they absolutely can provide greater benefits than those costs.

Like everything else, price controls are actually just a tool in the box. They are often portrayed as theoretically impossible; that they are the slippery slope to central planning a la the USSR, and that they will necessarily blow up. If you were doing it for the whole economy it is true enough (*puts the 20 page essay on the evolution of GOSPLAN to the side with a sigh of remorse and longing*), but for individual goods it just isn't that hard to calculate the marginal price of a good, understand that price, and then subsidize it or w/e for your social end without blowing up your entire supply chain. This happens all the time, it is called a firm; all of them do internal price controls.

The problems with price controls are not that theoretical calculation debate stuff, but instead that governments just generally aren't very good at things and fuck shit up all the time. Sometimes you need to do some kind of policy anyway, for some things markets do not work at all so you just gotta do your best. But price controls are exactly the kind of thing governments fuck up the most, and so using them needs to clear an exceptionally high bar. In practice, most problems never do. There is almost always another, better way to address the problem that will fuck up less. But it is just costs vs benefits in the end, it isn't a magic box. You can price control subways, it's fine enough. Don't price control groceries, that is not going to work. Different industries, different policies.

[simply-ivanka]

“There are no forbidden questions in science, no matters too sensitive or delicate to be probed, no sacred truths.” Carl Sagan

Ecoinvent, the world’s largest database on the environmental impact of wind and solar technologies, has no data from China, even though it makes most of the world's solar panels

The UN IPCC and IEA have relied on Ecoinvent estimates of life cycle CO2 emissions from solar, but given China refuses to be transparent in their reporting, Ecoinvent fudged the numbers using values from EU and US manufacturing.

As a result, Chinese derived solar PV panels have life cycles in the range of 170 to 250 kg CO2 equivalent per MWh versus the 50 kg CO2 per MWh so commonly used by the IPCC and others in calculating CO2 emission offset credits and in climate modelling.

Consider that advanced combined cycle gas turbine power plants have CO2 emission factors ranging from 300 to 350 kg CO2 per MWh and use a much smaller fraction of the amount of non-renewable materials per unit of energy produced than do solar PV facilities.

It is a well known fact that paring natural gas turbine technologies in a load balancing subservient role to solar PV gives rise to reduced thermal efficiencies of the turbine system. Thereby acting to further reduce the emission reduction benefits of solar PV and its already small marginal difference with a stand alone natural gas system.

The moral of the story is carbon credits are a scam, as are modelling projections of the climate effects of solar PV technologies.

[prettycottonmouthlamia]

I waffled a bit about making this but I don't have much else to be doing and it is only 10:30 in the morning and I already feel like I've been up for 22 hours so let's talk about Shu S3 versus Saria S3.

An important note I'm going to bring up here is that while Shu S3 is very good, it does technically lose out on heal coverage to Blemishine S3 under ideal circumstances. A Blemishine who is constantly attacking and taking pressure will cycle through her skill way faster than Shu ever will, even with her talent in play. It is a bit difficult to compare Blemishine's Offensive + Defensive recovery skills to an Automatic Recovery skill on principle though, and IMO the skills are meant to do different things. Blemishine's S3 is meant to turn her into an offensive threat while giving her the stats she needs to tank enemies. Shu is a healer and support unit. They aren't working on the same axis.

In looking at Shu's S3 compared to Saria's S3, I'm going to compare them directly. They are built in a lot of ways to do exactly the same things, with Shu being a much newer version of Saria's skill. I'll be comparing them on:

Range of their skills

SP Cost

Healing efficacy

Buffing capabilities

Support capabilities

Crowd Control

Range

If we compare the ranges of Shu's S3 to Saria's S3, Saria's range is bigger, having four more tiles of access than Shu. Shu does get the ability to cover a ton of tiles with her Sowing, however, so the range advantage is pretty marginal for Saria.

SP Costs

The biggest advantage for Shu is the SP costs of their skills. Saria's skill will be faster on deployment, taking only 10 seconds to charge compare to Shu's 15, but Shu's 45 SP cost on her S3 means it will be active a little less than twice as often as Saria's S3. This is huge for Shu, as one of Saria's problem is that she doesn't have great coverage with her S3, and so this skill often takes a back seat to S1 or S2 if you're using Saria for healing reasons.

Healing Efficacy

Shu blows Saria pretty much completely out of the water. She has a HPS of roughly 1,289 with her talent going at max power, and it's even higher if she's healing a target with under 50% HP. Saria's skill will usually only heal roughly 275 HP a second, bumping to 316 with her GUA-X module trait, and 286 HP a second with her GUA-Y module, and this is assuming she's been on the battlefield for the full 90 seconds she needs to reach that juicy passive +40% ATK buff. Shu's passive 85 HP/s regen and 17% Sanctuary really makes the comparison worse. Mitigation is damage you didn't need to heal after all.

Buffing Capabilities

Shu's advantage here is that she will buff operators no matter what damage type they are using: Physical, Arts, True, Elemental, they all benefit from Shu's buffs. Saria, however, provides better numbers for Arts damage, and this might initially seem like it shouldn't be true. For an Arts operator, Shu's buffs would give them an additional 56.25% DPS, which is better than Saria...by a very slight amount. But, this is assuming an operator has no ATK or ASPD buffs active at that time.

Let's take Haze for a minute as a clear example of this. Haze's normal DPS with her S2 active is 1,092.8 damage per second. Haze over the course of her skill deals about 25k damage, which is not too shabby for a 4-star! With Shu's buffs, her DPS will improve to 1,461.0, which is an impressive jump! However, it is only a 33.69% improvement on her damage, because the ATK and ASPD buffs get diluted by diminishing returns. Saria meanwhile always gives a 55% improvement on DPS, because her buff is a damage multiplier, which is applied after the other parts of the damage calculation.

So is Saria better for buffing Arts damage? The answer, genuinely, is that it depends. Saria will often give you the biggest numbers possible, but Shu has better cycle times with her buffs that Saria does. If you need your buffs to align better or you need them more often, Shu is definitely going to be the pick. If you need a big burst damage moment or your DPS points are far enough apart, Saria will be better.

Support Capabilities

Strictly speaking, neither S3 really supports outside of buffs, but the benefit from talents is important here. You need to compare Shu's Sowing with Saria's SP generation talent. Shu's tiles will give an 85 HP regen and 17% Sanctuary buff, while Saria will provide 1-2 SP every time she heals. This is another point where Saria really isn't strictly better or worse than Shu is. Shu's talent remains actively constantly, and provides an ok regen along with some damage mitigation. Saria's talent only applies if the target is healed (if they are at full SP, they do not gain SP) and can be tricky to set-up, but potentially triples the speed in which they will be able to access their skill. A common skill pairing is Saria and Shalem, which have great synergy with each other. Shalem's skill is Defensive Recovery, and burns most of his HP away. Shalem's HP is just high enough that he will recover most if not all of the SP he needs off of Saria's 10 heals, at which point he can activate his skill during the last 20 seconds and take full advantage of Saria's buff. Stages with DoT are great for Saria, who can pump an entire squad full of yummy SP.

Crowd Control Capabilites

Saria and Shu both have access to potent crowd control abilities, with Saria having access to a chunk movement speed reduction while Shu has access to her teleportation gimmick. Shu's teleportation is a bit difficult to understand from her description, but essentially, if an enemy steps onto a sowed tile while Shu has skill active, and then moves 2 tiles away from the original tile, they will be teleported directly back to where they started.

Two tiles seems like a lot, but remember that enemies typically enter a tile from its edge, and suddenly Shu's crowd control aspects become very powerful. If Shu has a sowed tile 2 tiles in front of the objective box, enemies will not be able to enter the objective box for the entire 30 seconds her skill is active. They'll just reach the edge of the box but not enter it before being teleported back. This makes Shu a much better crowd control option than Saria, although Saria is not bad by any means. This skill has a TON of unintended interactions with various boss and enemy gimmicks, on top of clustering enemies very tightly together and making them vulnerable to AoE and splash damage.

It's really good. I initially wrote this off as a funny gimmick ability but it's a great piece of crowd control and makes Shu a much more well rounded operator for having it.

Conclusion

It's often the case in gacha games, and typically in any long running game content, that after four and a half years, game pieces released by this point thoroughly outclass game pieces released at launch. Is Shu better than Saria? Yes, for the most part. But it is worth saying that Shu does not necessarily completely replace Saria. Saria has good niches to fit in as a support operator in her very powerful Arts damage buff and SP charging capabilities, but even more than that there is an entire conversation to be had about Saria's better ability to tank physical damage. Saria can have almost 1000 DEF with her talent at full power and has a 15% damage reduction on top of that.

In addition, Saria is definitely better at using her S1 than Shu is, thanks to her higher ATK and SP charging capabilities. It's not a huge niche but Saria's S1 packs a pretty potent punch that Shu's doesn't.

Shu's S3 is definitely mostly better, but Saria has moments where she shines and Shu does not.

[cerinslair]

Heart Heist: The Zine Update 1.1 Out Now!

While work on the Complete Edition continues, Heart Heist: The Zine has also received its first major update!

Now that I understand itch's platform a bit better - as well as the scope of this project - it no longer seems correct to update the zine itself directly into the Complete Edition. I think it makes more sense to split Heart Heist into two bespoke editions: the cheap, easy to distribute, lowest-possible-barrier-of-entry Zine Edition; and a Complete Edition that is free to grow into whatever it ends up becoming. I don't want anyone who supported this project already to feel cheated out of the Complete Edition, which is why anyone who purchased (or purchases) the Zine Edition on itch will get $5 (the full price of the zine) off of the Complete Edition when it releases.

This does not mean that the zine is an unfinished version of a full game. Now it is quite the opposite - it is its own, complete thing (and has had its release stats on itch updated accordingly). It has everything you need to play, and can stand on its own. Some might come to call it a "rules-lite" version, and while I don't want to fall into the rabbit hole of definitions, it is looking very likely that the Complete Edition will have at least three more mechanics than its zine counterpart. Some players might even come to prefer one version over the other - relative simplicity and ease of use vs. mechanical depth and additional useful tools. Only time and continued development will tell.

While the Zine Edition obviously won't have everything the Complete Edition will have in it, it will still benefit from some of the updates work on the Complete Edition produces - such as the changes that released today!

Thank you for continuing to support Heart Heist!

Changelog:

Created a Google Sheet that helps automate calculating each Thief's Favor at the end of the game if you don't feel like doing math

Updated estimated play time based on additional playtesting with more groups of different players - down from 5 or 6 to 4 hours!

Added expectation of an additional 30 to 60 minutes if the entire group is new to playing Heart Heist

Added section strongly encouraging players to read their intel before meeting up to save time at the table. This section also explains that heists cannot be "spoiled," and are reusable!

The Evocative Language Update

"Stats" → "Vibes"

"Game Master" → "The Guy in the Van" (GV)

Removed unnecessary references to upcoming material meant for the Complete Edition

Rephrased explanation of "Fake It 'til you Make It" for clarity

Fixed unspecified print error on page 5

Added missing paragraph break on page 9

Fixed various typos

Removed grey sketch line from corner of Bingo.png

Fixed missing Alt Text for Bingo.png

Clarified that armor counts as a set of clothes

Specified how long it takes for a glass cutter to cut holes of various sizes

Reduced cost of the Aptitude spell from 3 to 2 Favor

Added advice for players to - at minimum - figure out how they will get in, how they will acquire the target, and how they will get back out again within their planning time limit. You'd be surprised how many groups forget one of those three things!

Added reminder for the Guy in the Van to award bonus Favor for the Dragon's Patron effect at the end of Phase 2: The Plan

Various tweaks to The Princess in the Box example heist based on continued playtesting

Added a timeline overview of the heist to The Princess in the Box

Increased margin size of The Princess in the Box intel handout for easier note taking

Updated the titles of some of the art pieces in the credits

[literaticat]

A writer on AW recently commented that their publishing contract for one book said if the book was sold discounted they'd get half their royalty rate and the publisher kept the book on a permanent discount (a small one of 5 percent) so they only ever got half the royalty rate. How common is this in the business? Will most agents try to remove such a clause from a contract or reduce it? (I'll include a link to the comment in a separate box in case you want to read it.)

Well, the link didn't work, but I found it. :-)

I have bad news and good news: Pretty much all contracts have a "high discount clause" -- and no, agents can't remove it.

The good news is, that's not what that means. The "discount" is not referring to the on-sale price of the book to the consumer, it's referring to the wholesale price of the book to retailers.

When a retail store buys books from a publisher, they buy them at the wholesale price, and then sell them for the retail price. So, they get, let's say, a 45% discount, and then sell them at full price. If they are Amazon or Target or someplace, they can give a discount to their customers if they WANT to -- but that doesn't affect the amount they have paid to the publisher, or how much the author gets.

For example: A book has a retail price of $10. (That's the amount on the bar code). Bookstore gets a 45% discount - so they pay $5.50 to the publisher. They sell the book as part of a Summertime Spectacular 10% off deal -- so they charge $9. to the consumer. That means, instead of $4.50 profit, they make a dollar less -- but the amount they have paid to the PUBLISHER doesn't change! Nor, in that case, would the author's royalty change.

Bear in mind here that these normal books at a normal discount are sold on a returnable basis. So if the retailer buys, say, 12 copies and only sells five, they can return 7 copies to the publisher and the publisher will have to return that money -- and that includes the author royalty part. (There are asks about returns in the FAQ, I'm already making this too long, just trust me when I say it's complicated but YES bookstores need to be able to return books and it is ultimately to author's benefit that they are able to do so!)

ANYWAY: A "High Discount" that WOULD make an author's royalty go down is if the publisher gave a discount of like... over 55% to the store. Which most publishers in the US don't do that often. If they DO give a big huge discount like that, it might be because a) the purchaser is buying in MAJOR bulk, and b) the books are sold on a non-returnable basis. So, yes, the author's royalties ARE less -- but also, hopefully, the size of the sale and the fact that those books can't be returned help ameliorate the sting.

Why they are not going to remove the high discount clause: As you see above, the regular discount gives the publisher a $5.50 "profit." The author gets 10% of the retail price -- so the author takes a dollar. They had to edit, print, distribute, warehouse these books, keep the lights on, pay the staff, etc -- all of which costs money, and the margins are very thin -- so of the $4.50 they get, not that much of it is actually profit.

If they are selling at, say, a 60% discount -- again, rare! -- they are only making $4 per book, which means almost NONE of it is actually profit. So instead of calculating the author's % as "10% of Retail" they might make it something like "10% of the amount received" (also called "net" or "publisher's receipts") -- in other words, instead of 10% of $10, you are getting 10% of $4.00. .40 cents rather than $1. (And YES, that totally sucks -- but in fairness they are also making less profit on those sales, and also they are non-returnable, and also hopefully it was a large enough sale that it comes out in the wash!)

ALL OF THAT IS TO SAY, in my opinion, with no actual factual information at my disposal, I would venture to guess that in that comment, one or more of these apply:

a) The author misunderstood the High Discount clause, saw that there were sales at a lower royalty rate, and conflated the fact that the books were "5% off" with that, AND/OR

b) The publisher in question is not a major US publisher.

(I specify "major" because maybe they are some random small press or educational publisher or something like that, that has their own way of working and their terms don't reflect the norms of regular large trade publishers! I specify "US" because in some countries like the UK, a LOT of books are sold at supermarkets, and supermarkets often get a high discount rate!)

and/or

c) There's something hinky going on, but you don't need to worry about it, it's neither your circus nor your monkeys!

[bitcoinaidiamox]

Bitcoin AI Diamox - Can Transform Your Trading Experience? User Reviews!

A new cryptocurrency trading program called Bitcoin Ai Diamox has generated a lot of interest since it was released. It is said that the method makes trading easier and allows orders to be executed conveniently. According to the software's developers, it helps traders of all experience levels make wiser choices and increase their profits. As is well known, software is crucial to delivering a smooth and profitable trading experience.

Open Your Bitcoin Ai Diamox Account Now

Traders search for an affordable system that provides a safe environment. Today, there are countless trading sites. It is challenging to determine which is authentic, though. We will look at every aspect of this new trading program in this review of Bitcoin Ai Diamox. Above all, we'll examine its operation, cost, and potential profit margin. We'll also look into user ratings and reviews to find out what industry experts think of this platform.

Bitcoin Ai Diamox: What Is It?

An AI-based cryptocurrency trading tool called Bitcoin Ai Diamox was created to assist users—both novices and experts—in navigating the erratic cryptocurrency market. It provides customers with actionable insights to help them make well-informed trading decisions by using state-of-the-art artificial intelligence to monitor market patterns in real-time.

Bitcoin Ai Diamox places a strong emphasis on automation and user-friendliness in contrast to conventional trading platforms. By calculating figures and deciphering intricate market data, the software essentially serves as your personal trading assistant, saving you the trouble. Bitcoin Ai Diamox Reviews something for everyone, regardless of expertise level, from novices wishing to dabble in cryptocurrency to seasoned traders seeking efficiency.

Is Bitcoin Ai Diamox A Scam?

The elephant in the room needs to be addressed: Is Diamox a Bitcoin AI legitimate? My investigation suggests that the platform is authentic. Positive customer evaluations, clear terms, and actual trading tools are all provided. Nevertheless, you should use prudence and only invest money you can afford to lose, just like you would with any trading site.

How Does Bitcoin Ai Diamox Work?

Bitcoin Ai Diamox is a comprehensive trading environment that continuously tracks the markets for virtual currencies. Consider a trading assistant who is always on the lookout for price changes and other minor market signals that could otherwise go overlooked. This reliable system develops custom trading strategies based on its analysis.

Start Trading with Bitcoin Ai Diamox Today

Its capacity to streamline the trade process is its main benefit. Before moving smoothly into live trading, users can begin with the demo mode to build confidence. Once activated, Bitcoin Ai Diamox takes over, handling your investments and making trades in response to changes in the market. Importantly, it works within the parameters you specify, so no matter how active you are on the site, you still have complete control over your trade.

How Can I Create An Account on Bitcoin Diamox Ai?

To begin trading, traders first create an account on Bitcoin Ai Diamox. The process is really easy and takes only a few minutes to finish. The process of creating an account on Bitcoin Ai Diamox will be examined in this section.

First Step

Registering on this site is the first step. To complete the registration form, go to the official Bitcoin Ai Diamox website. You should include information like your name, phone number, email address, and nation of residence. Once the necessary information has been entered, submit the form.

Step Two

The Bitcoin Ai Diamox staff will check the information once you submit the registration form. The team will send a confirmation email to the specified email address after all the information has been verified. To finish this process, simply open the mail and follow the directions.

Step Three

You can access your Bitcoin Ai Diamox Platform account after the verification process is finished. To start trading on the platform, you must deposit a minimum of $250. There are numerous ways to pay, including bank transfers, credit cards, PayPal, Neteller, and Skrill.

Step Four

Following the completion of all the above procedures, you can begin trading. Additionally, you should choose the assets to trade and establish the parameters of the trade in accordance with your investing objectives. Depending on your preferences, you can select between the auto and manual modes.

Top Features of Bitcoin AI Diamox:

Real-Time Market Analysis

Real-time market data analysis by the platform's AI gives users the most recent information. This functionality is very useful in the rapidly evolving cryptocurrency industry.

Accessibility on the Go

Even if there isn't an app, you can trade whenever and wherever you want because to the platform's mobile-friendly design.

Personalized Alerts

To ensure you don't miss any opportunities, set up customized alerts for particular market circumstances.

Easy-to-use Interface

Even novices may easily browse the platform thanks to Bitcoin Ai Diamox's clear and user-friendly design.

Trading in Multiple Assets

Ethereum, Litecoin, and other cryptocurrencies are supported by the platform in addition to Bitcoin.

Open Your Bitcoin Ai Diamox Account Now

What Is The Bitcoin Ai Diamox Minimum Deposit Requirement?

In order to begin trading, Bitcoin Ai Diamox App usually requires an initial deposit. For the most up-to-date and correct information, it is preferable to consult the site directly as the amount may differ according on the account type chosen. Although some novices view this deposit as a barrier, it also guarantees that users are sincere about their trading promises. A responsible trade environment is maintained by cautious and secure funding.

Bitcoin Ai Diamox: User Reviews and Ratings

Both seasoned and new traders from all around the world have left excellent reviews for Bitcoin Ai Diamox. After using this strategy for five to six weeks, many traders claimed to have profited ten times their initial investment. The technology offers a seamless and effective trading experience while in auto mode.

Beginners could use the free demo mode to familiarize themselves with various tactics and discover new strategies. Profitable chances could be explored and invested in by seasoned traders. With this approach, they could effectively manage all of their investments. Bitcoin Ai Diamox has a 4.5 out of 5 star rating on review websites such as SiteJabber.

Final Verdict

We have reached the last section of this evaluation of Bitcoin Ai Diamox Crypto Trading Platform after a thorough investigation. Here, we examined every function and facet of this brand-new trading program. As previously said, it makes use of cutting-edge technologies like as artificial intelligence (AI), algorithms, and analytics to deliver precise market analysis and support traders in making wise choices. This system has both auto and manual trading modes. Traders can experience trading hands-free when using auto mode.

Start Trading with Bitcoin Ai Diamox Today

When traders choose to put strategies into practice on their own, they can switch to manual mode. Trading requires a minimum of $250 in funds. By adhering to all safety procedures and utilizing technology like SSL and two-factor authentication, Bitcoin Ai Diamox provides a safe trading environment. Users gave this new software positive reviews, giving it an average rating of 4.5 out of 5. We can conclude that Bitcoin Ai Diamox is a worthwhile investment after taking into account all of these considerations.

FAQs

Is it possible to use Diamox for Bitcoin AI on a mobile device?

Of course. No matter where you are, you can manage your transactions and stay updated thanks to the platform's complete mobile optimization.

Can beginners use Bitcoin Ai Diamox?

It is, indeed. The platform's user-friendly controls and step-by-step instructions make it suitable for both novice and seasoned traders.

How safe is it to trade on Bitcoin Ai Diamox?

To protect your assets, Bitcoin Ai Diamox uses cutting-edge security methods like encrypted data transfers and thorough customer verification procedures.

Which cryptocurrency kinds are available for trading on Bitcoin Ai Diamox?

The platform's main currency is Bitcoin, but you may trade a number of other cryptocurrencies as well. You may diversify and modify your investment approach to suit the ever-changing market thanks to this variety.

Official Website ==> https://www.blockxtrade.com/bitcoin-ai-diamox-reviews/

[businessnews01]

Laundry Soap Wholesale: Cost-Effective Cleaning Solutions

Fundraising can often feel like a challenging task, requiring significant effort with uncertain results. However, one of the most effective and hassle-free ways to raise funds is through an easy laundry soap fundraiser. Instead of selling typical fundraiser items like chocolates or wrapping paper, organizations can offer a product that every household uses—laundry detergent!

This unique fundraising approach ensures a steady demand, making it an excellent choice for schools, sports teams, and community groups looking to maximize their earnings with minimal effort.

Why Choose a Laundry Soap Fundraiser?

Unlike other fundraisers, detergent fundraising provides a practical, high-value product that people are already purchasing regularly. This means you’re not convincing supporters to spend extra on something they don’t need—you’re simply offering them a more convenient way to buy an everyday essential.

Here’s why this method is gaining popularity:

Essential Household Product: Everyone does laundry, making detergent a necessity.

Affordable & High-Margin Sales: Fundraisers can sell large, high-quality detergent bottles at competitive prices, ensuring strong earnings per sale.

No Perishability Issues: Unlike food-based fundraisers, the detergent doesn’t spoil, making storage and distribution easy.

Hassle-Free Selling Process: Supporters recognize the value immediately, leading to faster, easier sales.

How to Organize a Hassle-Free Detergent Fundraising Campaign

To ensure your hassle-free detergent fundraising campaign is a success, follow these simple steps:

1. Partner with a Reliable Fundraising Supplier

Work with a supplier that offers bulk detergent options at discounted rates, allowing your group to make a profit on each sale.

2. Set Your Fundraising Goals

Determine how much money your organization needs and calculate the number of detergent units required to hit your target.

3. Promote Effectively

Leverage social media, school newsletters, and community networks to spread the word about your easy laundry soap fundraiser. Providing sample packs or testimonials can also boost sales.

4. Make Ordering Simple

Offer online and offline order forms, ensuring that supporters can easily place their orders.

5. Organize Distribution Smoothly

Once orders are placed, arrange for a pick-up location or doorstep delivery, ensuring a seamless experience for buyers.

Maximizing Your Fundraising Success

To get the most out of your detergent fundraiser, keep these tips in mind:

Offer Bundle Deals: Encourage supporters to buy in bulk by providing discounts on multiple purchases.

Emphasize Quality & Value: Highlight the benefits of the detergent, such as high efficiency, long-lasting use, and eco-friendly formulas.

Engage Your Team: Assign fundraising roles to members, from marketing to distribution, ensuring a smooth workflow.

Create a Sense of Urgency: Set a deadline for orders to encourage faster decision-making.

A Smarter Way to Fundraise

A hassle-free detergent fundraising campaign is an ideal way to raise money without the usual challenges of traditional fundraising methods. It’s simple, effective, and ensures steady sales since laundry soap is a necessity in every household.

By choosing an easy laundry soap fundraiser, your school or group can maximize profits while providing supporters with a high-value product they actually need. Start your campaign today and experience the benefits of stress-free fundraising!

[jackalgirl]

I Made Some Little Pants -or- Pants for Horse People (and/or Bike Riders) -or- Topology is Destiny

My most recent brainworm has been trying to figure out the Thorsbjerg Trousers pattern (based on a finding of Viking clothing at Thorsbjerg), and so I sewed up this small scale version to figure out where the Issues might be (I'm not going to try to install the waistband).

More below the cut (since there is a lot more)

Matthew Marino (PDF tutorial here: here: http://www.hurstwic.org/library/how_to/thorsbjerg_trousers.pdf) notes, "The front part of the rise panel creates two seams that run on either side of the male organ rather than right over it."

I think this is brilliant, and a benefit to anyone with genitalia; I don't think it matters what parts you have: having a thick seam run right over the sensitive bits is not always comfy. I'm sure someone will have some delightful comments to make, but imagine you're riding a horse for most of the day: you're gonna chafe.

He also notes, "The inseam diverts from the inner thigh at about the knee and runs to about the midline of the buttocks. When sitting on modern chairs this puts a seam right under your weight and can be irritating. However, when sitting on a horse where the weight is concentrated more to the surface of the inner thigh, the seam is out of the way."

(I imagine that this would not only not irritate you, but not having a seam in the middle of your thigh would also not irritate the horse.)

This explains the extreme funkiness of that seam along the backs of the legs. See the trapazoid in the back (the right-hand picture)? That's the back panel. And the skinny strip in the middle? That's the rise panel. Everything else is one or the other leg: the weird curvy tab wraps around under the crotch and then up into the back panel.

I just could not visualize how this worked, even watching Nille Viking's video series on these trousers (here: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=lhUQ3O4l310&list=PLn71_-p0gczyU08x0lx2s-IT3s2HH6Eli&index=7), until I had cut out the leg panel in paper and messed around with it.

I'd say that this is an Intermediate-to-Advanced pattern (based on my limited experience) because the leg panels have some really mind-blowing curves. When attaching them to straight sections (or, for the knee to butt seam), you have to basically hold the cloth the way it will live when it's done, and stitch it that way (it reminds me of Bernadette Banner and Babara Pesendorfer's discussion of how to construct a proper lapel). A lot of this happens on the bias (the diagonal), where the fabric is stretchy, and this is both helpful (I had to stretch the leg panel to get it to line up with the rise panel properly) and probably also makes it more tricky. I don't know that I did it correctly, but at least I have an idea of what I'm getting into*

* Ha-ha! I probably don't.

Nille gives the absolutely brilliant advice to sacrifice an old pair of well-fitting jeans to serve as your pattern and demonstrates how to do this in the second video of the playlist. But I didn't have a pair of jeans I wanted to cut up, so I went with Matthew's tutorial instead.

Matthew includes a to-scale pattern in his tutorial. If you output this single page to a PDF and/or very high-quality JPEG), then import that into a word processor, you can scale this up to fit the margins, which is what I did. And because it's in scale, you can (say) fold your favorite pants in half, measure from the point of the crotch directly across the pants, and this is your Point M to B-line measurement. Once you have determined that, you can measure that line on the pattern print-out (I recommend millimeters for easier calculations), and then you have a scale of how many inches/cm to a millimeter you have, and you can use that to math out the rest of the pattern (and adjust it to your actual measurements).

With respect to Matthew's pattern:

Line J-M-D is your thigh circumference. Even though line J-M goes off at an angle, because that tabbed curvy bit wraps around the crotch to the back, line J-M actually ends up being horizontal in the end. I experimented with extending point J out a bit (for wider hips), and had to rotate the original I-J curve (rotating around point I) outward so that it lined up with the new point J -- it's important to maintain the curve, as it has to to match up with the weird curvy line on the other side of the leg (curve E-D). Doing this seemed to work all right on my little mock-up.

Matthew doesn't specifically mention how to measure the height of the back panel ("Rise part b"). I thought it would make sense that this hem would probably fall right above the maximum outward curve of the tailbone; I feel like this would not end up rubbing against the back of a saddle. I'm not sure how to make sure changes in the vertical dimension of this would end up impacting the shape of the leg panel; those strange tabs off to the side end up being sewn to the bottom of the back panel, so I think this warrants further experimentation.

The next step will be a full-sized mock-up. I have no idea when I'll get around to it, but I think I will probably be anachronistic and install a zipper on one side of the rise panel, since it'll all end up being under a tunic anyway and I'm really not going for full historical authenticity.

[iceyrukia]

IT IS OBSCENE: A TRUE REFLECTION IN THREE PARTS

PART ONE

When you are a public figure, people will write and say false things about you. It comes with the territory. Many of those things you brush aside. Many you ignore. The people close to you advise you that silence is best. And it often is. Sometimes, though, silence makes a lie begin to take on the shimmer of truth.

In this age of social media, where a story travels the world in minutes, silence sometimes means that other people can hijack your story and soon, their false version becomes the defining story about you.

Falsehood flies, and the Truth comes limping after it, as Jonathan Swift wrote.

Take the case of a young woman who attended my Lagos writing workshop some years ago; she stood out because she was bright and interested in feminism.

After the workshop, I welcomed her into my life. I very rarely do this, because my past experiences with young Nigerians left me wary of people who are calculating and insincere and want to use me only as an opportunity. But she was a Bright Young Nigerian Feminist and I thought that was worth making an exception.

She spent time in my Lagos home. We had long conversations. I was support-giver, counsellor, comforter.

Then I gave an interview in March 2017 in which I said that a trans woman is a trans woman, (the larger point of which was to say that we should be able to acknowledge difference while being fully inclusive, that in fact the whole premise of inclusiveness is difference.)

I was told she went on social media and insulted me.

This woman knows me enough to know that I fully support the rights of trans people and all marginalized people. That I have always been fiercely supportive of difference, in general. And that I am a person who reads and thinks and forms my opinions in a carefully considered way.

Of course she could very well have had concerns with the interview. That is fair enough. But I had a personal relationship with her. She could have emailed or called or texted me. Instead she went on social media to put on a public performance.

I was stunned. I couldn’t believe it. But I mostly held myself responsible. My spirit had been slightly stalled, from the beginning, by her. My first sense of unease with her came when she posted a photo taken in my house, at a time when I did not want any photos of my personal life on social media. I asked that she take it down. The second case of unease was her publicizing something I had told her in confidence about another member of the workshop. The most upsetting was when she, without telling me, used my name to apply for an American visa. Above all else was my lingering suspicion that she was a person who chose as friends only those from whom she could benefit. But she was a Bright Young Nigerian Feminist and I allowed that sentiment to over-ride my unease.

After she publicly insulted me, it was clear to me that this kind of noxious person had no business in my life, ever again.

A few months later, she sent this affected, self-regarding email which I ignored.

Friday September 15 2017 at 4.35 AM Dearest Chimamanda, Happy birthday. I mean this with all my heart, even though I know I have fallen (removed myself?) from your grace. It would be impossible for me to stop loving you; long before you gave me the possibility of being your friend you were the embodiment of my deepest hopes, and that will never change.I think of you often, still – stating the obvious. I grieve the loss of our friendship; it is a complicated sadness. I’m sorry that I caused you pain, or to feel like you can no longer trust me. There’s so much that I wish could be said.I pray this birthday is the happiest one yet. I wish you rest and quiet and abiding stability, and of course more of the kind of success that means the most to you.I hope mothering X is everything you hoped and prayed for and more.Have a wonderful day today. Love always.

About a year later, she sent this email, which I also ignored.

Thursday November 29 2018 at 8.42 AM Dear Chimamanda, I realise this is long overdue and vastly insufficient, but I’m really sorry. I’ve spent so much time going back and forth in my head and my email drafts; wondering whether to write you, how to write you, what to say, all kinds of things. But in the end, this is the thing I realise I need to say.I’m sorry I disappointed and hurt you by saying things publicly that were sharply critical, unkind and even disrespectful, especially in light of all the backlash and criticism you experience from people who don’t know you. I could have acted with more consideration towards you. I should have, especially given the privilege of intimacy that you had offered me. There are many reasons why I chose to behave the way I did, but none of them is an excuse. And I clearly realise now, after many, many months of needless sadness and angst and hurt and actual confusion, that I did not treat you as a friend would—certainly not as someone would to whom you had offered unprecedented access to yourself and your life.You’ve meant the world to me since I was barely a teenager. It’s been very hard navigating the emotional fallout of the past several months, knowing you were displeased with me but truly not quite understanding why, then deciding I didn’t care, then realising that would never be true. I’ve always cared. But I was too mixed up about the situation to be able to make sense of it, or properly see past my own justifications. I’m sorry it took me so long to grasp how I let you down.I realise that I don’t have room to ask anything of you, but I would be grateful for a chance to say this in person. Still, even if I never get that, I really hope you believe me.Congratulations on restarting the workshop, and on all the other amazing successes of the past several months. I think of you often; it would be impossible not to. You look so happy in your pictures. I really hope you are well. All my love,

I hoped never to hear from her again. But she has recently gone on social media to write about how she “refused to kiss my ring,” as if I demanded some kind of obeisance from her. She also suggests that there is some dark, shadowy ‘more’ to tell that she won’t tell, with an undertone of “if only you knew the whole story.”

It is a manipulative way of lying. By suggesting there is ‘more’ when you know very well that there isn’t, you do sufficient reputational damage while also being able to plead deniability. Innuendo without fact is immoral.

No, there isn’t more to the story. It is a simple story – you got close to a famous person, you publicly insulted the famous person to aggrandize yourself, the famous person cut you off, you sent emails and texts that were ignored, and you then decided to go on social media to peddle falsehoods. It is obscene to tell the world that you refused to kiss a ring when in fact there isn’t any ring at all.

I cannot make much of the hostility of strangers who do not know me – fame taints our view of the humanity of famous people. But the truth is that the famous person remains irretrievably human. Fame does not inoculate the famous person from disappointment and depression, fame does not make you any less angered or hurt by the duplicitous nature of people. To be famous is to be assumed to have power, which is true, but in the analysis of fame, people often ignore the vulnerability that comes with fame, and they are unable to see how others who have nothing to lose can lie and connive in order to take advantage of that fame, while not giving a single thought to the feelings and humanity of the famous person.

And when you personally know a famous person, when you have experienced their humanity, when you have benefited from their kindness, and yet you are unable to extend to them the basic grace and respect that even a casual acquaintanceship deserves, then it says something fundamental about you.

And in a deluded way, you will convince yourself that your hypocritical, self-regarding, compassion-free behavior is in fact principled feminism. It isn’t. You will wrap your mediocre malice in the false gauziness of ideological purity. But it’s still malice. You will tell yourself that being able to parrot the latest American Feminist orthodoxy justifies your hacking at the spirit of a person who had shown you only kindness. You can call your opportunism by any name, but it doesn’t make it any less of the ugly opportunism that it is.

PART TWO

When I first read this person’s work, which was their application to my writing workshop, I thought the sentences were well-done. I accepted this person. At the workshop, I thought they could have been more respectful of the other participants, perhaps not kept typing dismissively as others’ stories were discussed, with an air of being among people below their level. After the workshop, I decided to select the best stories, edit them, pay the writers a fee, and publish them in an e-magazine. The first story I chose was this person’s. I wrote a glowing introduction, which the story truly deserved.

They sent this email.

Fri, Aug 7, 2015, 8:20 AM Thank you so much for that introduction. It means so much to me and I’m going to keep reading it to get through the rest of my stay at Syracuse. I sent it to my mother and she got nervous about the piece because you said ‘it disturbs’, said she’s not sure how she’s going to feel when she reads it. But she’s also one of those ‘let’s leave the past in the past’ people. My sister approved, which meant a lot because our childhoods were each other’s.All that to say, I’m so grateful you gave me the space to write the short version of this piece, the encouragement to write the longer piece, and now, a platform for it. I definitely have plans to write more about Aba.Thank you, with all my heart.PS- I wanted to sign off gratefully + gracefully in Igbo but I said let me not fall my own hand 🙂

About a year later, they sent another email to let me know that their novel would be published.

Wed, Jun 8, 2016, 8:20 AM Greetings! I hope all’s been well with you this past year. Belated congratulations on the baby’s arrival, I hope she’s being a delight (I’m sure she is), and on the Johns Hopkins honors.I was thinking about how this time last year, I’d just received the email from you about Farafina and I wanted to reach out with a quick update. I’ve just accepted an offer for the novel I excerpted as my application and it feels like the workshop was a catalyst for the events that’ve led me here. So, thank you, for the workshop and your words and the Olisa TV series and listening to me babble on about my story at the hotel. I deeply appreciate all of it and you. All my best,

Before the novel was published, I spoke of it to some people, to help it get attention. I had not been able to finish reading it. I found the writing beautiful, but the story false-hearted and burdened by bathos. When I spoke of the novel, however, it was the former sentiment that I expressed, never the latter.

After I gave the March 2017 interview in which I said that a trans woman is a trans woman, I was told that this person had insulted me on social media, calling me, among other things, a murderer. I was deeply upset, because while I did not really know them personally, I felt they knew what I stood for and that I fully supported the rights of trans people, and that I do not wish anybody dead.

Still, I took no action. I ignored the public insult.

When this person’s publishers sent me an early copy of their novel, I was surprised to see that my name was included in their cover biography. I had never seen that done in a book before. I didn’t like that I had not been asked for permission to use my name, but most of all I thought – why would a person who thinks I’m a murderer want my name so prominently displayed in their biography?

Then I learned that, because my name was in the cover biography, a journalist had called them my “protegee” and they then threw a Twitter tantrum about it, calling it clickbait, viciously disavowing having received any help from me.

I knew this person had called me a murderer, I knew they were actively campaigning to “cancel” me and tweeting about how I should no longer be invited to speak at events. But this I felt I could not ignore.

I sent an email to my representative:

From: Chimamanda Adichie Date: Wed, Feb 14, 2018 at 2:06 PM I’m writing about X She attended my Lagos workshop two years ago and I selected hers as one of a few pieces I published after the workshop. Apparently I was referred to as her ‘mentor’ and/or she was referred to as my ‘protege,’ in some articles, which led to her tweeting about it. Her tweets were forwarded to me by friends. In them, she reacted quite viscerally to my being called her ‘mentor’ and her being my ‘protege.’ To be fair, she is not technically my ‘protege,’ and it is perfectly fine that she feels this way, but her ungracious tone and the ugliness of the energy spent on her tweets surprised me. I recently received her book and noticed that my name was included in her official book bio. I was stunned. Surely if she is so strongly averse to my being considered a person who has been significant in her career, (which is my understanding of the loose use of protege/mentor) then it is unseemly to make the choice to include my name in her bio. I found it unusual, as I don’t think I’ve seen it done before in a book bio, but I also now find it unacceptably cynical. It is only reasonable for a person who sees my name as it is used in her bio — ‘her work has been selected and edited by Chimamanda Ngozi Adichie’ — to assume some sort of mentor/protege relationship. To publicly disavow this with a tone bordering on hostility and at the same time so baldly use my name to sell her book is utterly unacceptable to me. I’d like you to please reach out to her publishers and ask that my name be removed from her official book bio. I refuse to be used in this way. Chimamanda

After contacting her publishers, my representative wrote:

They have asked whether your preference would be to remove the Acknowledgment to you in the back of the book also, in future reprints.

I replied:

I don’t think that is my decision to take, and so will not answer either way, although it would be ideal if she herself made the decision to do so.

On the subject of how to go about it, I was absolutely determined not to be used by this person, but I was also sensitive to the costs the publisher might incur, as this was not in any way the publisher’s fault. Instead of pulping the already printed copies, I asked that the jackets be stripped and rebound. To my representative I wrote:

I’m completely determined that I not be used in this opportunistic and hypocritical way. But I want to make sure to proceed reasonably.

I was assured that my name would be removed and I moved on.

But from time to time, I would be informed of yet another social media post in which this person had attacked me.

This person has created a space in which social media followers have – and this I find unforgiveable – trivialized my parents’ death, claiming that the sudden and devastating loss of my parents within months of each other during this pandemic, was ‘punishment’ for my ‘transphobia.’

This person has asked followers to pick up machetes and attack me.

This person began a narrative that I had sabotaged their career, a narrative that has been picked up and repeated by others.

The normal response would be to ignore it all, because this person is seeking attention and publicity to benefit themselves. Claiming that I have sabotaged their career is a lie and this person knows that it is a lie. But if something is repeated often enough, in this age in which people do not need proof or verification to run with a story, especially a story that has outrage potential, then it can easily begin to seem true.

My addressing this lie will indeed get this person some attention – may they bask in it.

Here is the truth: I was very supportive of this writer. I didn’t have to be. I wasn’t asked to be. I supported this writer because I believe we need a diverse range of African stories.

Sabotaging a young writer’s career is just not my style; I would get no benefit or satisfaction from it. Asking that my name be removed from your biography is not sabotaging your career. It is about protecting my boundaries of what I consider acceptable in civil human behavior.

You publicly call me a murderer AND still feel entitled to benefit from my name?

You use my name (without my permission) to sell your book AND then throw an ugly tantrum when someone makes a reference to it?

What kind of monstrous entitlement, what kind of perverse self-absorption, what utter lack of self-awareness, what unheeding heartlessness, what frightening immaturity makes a person act this way?

Besides, a person who genuinely believes me to be a murderer cannot possibly want my name on their book cover, unless of course that person is a rank opportunist.

PART THREE

In certain young people today like these two from my writing workshop, I notice what I find increasingly troubling: a cold-blooded grasping, a hunger to take and take and take, but never give; a massive sense of entitlement; an inability to show gratitude; an ease with dishonesty and pretension and selfishness that is couched in the language of self-care; an expectation always to be helped and rewarded no matter whether deserving or not; language that is slick and sleek but with little emotional intelligence; an astonishing level of self-absorption; an unrealistic expectation of puritanism from others; an over-inflated sense of ability, or of talent where there is any at all; an inability to apologize, truly and fully, without justifications; a passionate performance of virtue that is well executed in the public space of Twitter but not in the intimate space of friendship.

I find it obscene.

There are many social-media-savvy people who are choking on sanctimony and lacking in compassion, who can fluidly pontificate on Twitter about kindness but are unable to actually show kindness. People whose social media lives are case studies in emotional aridity. People for whom friendship, and its expectations of loyalty and compassion and support, no longer matter. People who claim to love literature – the messy stories of our humanity – but are also monomaniacally obsessed with whatever is the prevailing ideological orthodoxy. People who demand that you denounce your friends for flimsy reasons in order to remain a member of the chosen puritan class.

People who ask you to ‘educate’ yourself while not having actually read any books themselves, while not being able to intelligently defend their own ideological positions, because by ‘educate,’ they actually mean ‘parrot what I say, flatten all nuance, wish away complexity.’

People who do not recognize that what they call a sophisticated take is really a simplistic mix of abstraction and orthodoxy – sophistication in this case being a showing-off of how au fait they are on the current version of ideological orthodoxy.

People who wield the words ‘violence’ and ‘weaponize’ like tarnished pitchforks. People who depend on obfuscation, who have no compassion for anybody genuinely curious or confused. Ask them a question and you are told that the answer is to repeat a mantra. Ask again for clarity and be accused of violence. (How ironic, speaking of violence, that it is one of these two who encouraged Twitter followers to pick up machetes and attack me.)

And so we have a generation of young people on social media so terrified of having the wrong opinions that they have robbed themselves of the opportunity to think and to learn and to grow.

I have spoken to young people who tell me they are terrified to tweet anything, that they read and re-read their tweets because they fear they will be attacked by their own. The assumption of good faith is dead. What matters is not goodness but the appearance of goodness. We are no longer human beings. We are now angels jostling to out-angel one another. God help us. It is obscene.

[penroseparticle]

Penrose Song of the Day Day 23: Seven by Jung Kook ft. Latto

I am not immune to Kpop. And this song is interesting to me, for reasons that aren't quite totally obvious.

Like the song is perfectly listenable, and it's good pop music. Well produced track, with nice ornamentation. It evokes a vibe it's going for. I think it's a good song, in a vacuum.

I'm not super sold on Latto, but I do like Seven more than Jung Kook's other foray into English songs with US Features- On level, I like Jack Harlow more as an artist (Don't ask, I have a whole rant), and I like the backing track more on 3D, but I think it's a worse song by a significant margin and Jack Harlow's verse on the song is just absolutely rancid. Seven does a lot of things in the song that makes me feel like they've really set Jung Kook up for a successful across the pond single. Though 3D does a lot of the same things now that I'm giving it a good listening as well.

The first thing that's pretty obvious is that the song is very, very simple lyrically for him. Obviously Jung Kook sings the whole song in English, but the song is a softball lyrically- The pre-chorus is pretty extensive, and the chorus is very repetitive- in a way that seems natural, almost. We're listing the 7 days, which all end with "day". We're talking about EVERY hour EVERY minute EVERY second. It's an intensification that's somehow natural to talk about. Night after night. Every chance for natural, intuitive repetition they went after. And the song is form following function- this song is kind of a jackhammer- auditory pun absolutely probably intended. That makes the lyrics regularly spaced and at an easy rhythm.

When you learn a new language, what are some of the first words you learn. I know I've just picked duolingo for French back up. There's a lot of these words in like. Unit 1 and 2 of learning the language. The days of the week. Every. Time words. I'm just saying, I think this song was made with the Kpop phenomenon in mind-After all, Korean fans are going to want to listen to Jboy's English track too. And this is easy for them to grok as well.

There's this natural desire to make sure Jung Kook comes across as sexual in both of his English songs- I think Kpop artists in general are a bit too polished, idol-esque. They're pretty pretty pony people and it's hard to find them visceral and relatable. I don't think it's at all an accident that Mr. "I'm vanilla baby" and Mrs. "I can tell you have big dick energy" are the features on these two songs, and I for one am glad to live in a universe where Jung Kook feels comfortable enough to say "YO I FUCK, OFTEN AND SEVERELY". And not only that but it seems to be something that both benefits his brand and humanizes him for non-kpop fans.

That said the song is still very, very kpop. It feels calculated for success (The lyrics were a dead giveaway), the chorus has Jung Kook's vocals layered up so he sounds more boyband. It's catchy and I can SEE the elaborate boyband choreography that can go with this in my mind's eye. It's a bit edgier, a bit more, I guess American? Than typical BTS fare. But It's not totally removed from it either.

Also, the swears are easy to cut out, easy underlining and punctuation to what's actually happening in the chorus, and are a nice juxtaposition to the actual verses compared to the. Let's say more direct chorus. So you can make a clean radio edit fairly simply (I think they sub "loving" which just. lmao) for wider radio play and public perception.

I think Latto's feature is whatever to be honest. It's a little. bland even for Latto? I think the sound engineer had too much fun on the camera roll and swallow your pride parts, they're comically on the nose sighs and slurping noises which actually just makes me giggle. But the wordplay works, it's a good alternate perspective on the song subject matter, and ultimately I think Latto did a great job, even if this doesn't make me want to hear more of her stuff.

Long story short- I like this song precisely because this song was crafted and I am looking at the craft. I don't necessarily think I'd like the song nearly as much until I started noticing how "easy" the song was made, in a way.

Studying this was fun. Anyways, as always. You could be dead right now. Go listen to something you love.

[centrally-unplanned]

Doing some tab closing and I enjoyed this piece a lot; it has a clean thoroughness on investigating each of the different possible causes of the Baby Boom of the mid 20th century.

For those who don't know, the Baby Boom, despite what is often taught, probably had little to do directly with World War Two - it was not a phenomenon of soldiers "coming up" and releasing their pent-up baby-making drive. This is most easily proven by the fact that countries that didn't participate in the war had the same boom! And that the boom was already starting in the 1930's.

Its cause is still unproven, but the article makes a solid case for it primarily being a product of affordable housing (which itself is connected to WW2 in some ways) and more importantly medical technology, as maternal mortality declined between 1930 and 1960 by ~90%:

Which is another classic case of the 'short' being made by time into the 'long' - most people probably think of safe pregnancy as this gradual process of improving sanitation & medical technology throughout the 19th and 20th century, but in fact the lion's share of the decline was the invention of antibiotics that could treat sepsis over the span of 20 years. The "price" of having a child, combined with the housing boom creating the space for it, induced a fertility bump.

The article ends by stating that these forces could, in some way, be reproduced - that if today you make pregnancy safer and childcare cheaper again, you can get a similar rise. I think this is the false, solutionist optimism that only a concluding paragraph can bring, however. For one, if that was the case, you think you would evidence along the income spectrum of that - for a 75% income band couple in Sweden or the US, housing is more plentiful then ever, and pregnancy safer than ever, but in the main fertility continues to decline across every band (the super-rich in some countries are a tiny exception).

But more importantly, I think it mistakes why this happened. If you portray it as a cost-benefit calculation, as "oh the price of kids is way down now, lets shift our consumption basket", then sure it sounds replicable. I don't think that is right, however - you should instead look at this as a cultural revolution induced by rapid change.

The role of women in the workplace & wider society was undergoing a ton of flux in this era, and it was in a period of "contestation" - these changes were not settled or agreed on by society at large. What a woman should "do" with her life was very open, and many factions still pushed for a form of family traditionalism. The counter-forces to that 'benefited' from things like maternal mortality as counter-arguments; women (and their husbands) both desired the old way but feared the price, one they no longer had to bear due to no longer being mass farmers. That was the equilibrium of the 1920's.

Then technology came along and throw the whole game into whack, changing the equilibrium. It was so rapid, so sudden, it induced a culture shift. You can metaphorically think of it as like a consumer rush, buying the hot new toy - in this case the hot new thing was safe pregnancy and houses to raise the kids in. Everyone wanted a piece of that *new* possible life, different from the old. It was, in a sense, a fad.

Which you cannot replicate - its done. We have the tech, we have the wealth, it didn't last. The culture shift that began of the 1960's was absolutely a response to new equilibrium of the 50's, its gender roles were never stable. Radical new technology (like exo-wombs) could change that, sure, create a new hotness. But 5% reductions in maternal mortality or slightly cheaper childcare won't cut it. It could shift the margins, but it can't make a boom.

Or so I predict at least. Its certainly hard to quantify that dynamic, but I think if you study how people saw themselves & family in that time, this comes out from the narratives of the time - with no equivalent today.