#currency notes printing

[governmentjobsworld]

ஆன்லைன் தேர்வு மூலமாக இந்திய ரூபாய் நோட்டுகள் தயாரிப்பு நிறுவனத்தில் வேலை..!

ஆன்லைன் தேர்வு மூலமாக இந்திய ரூபாய் நோட்டுகள் தயாரிப்பு நிறுவனத்தில் வேலை..! #CNP #Govtjobs #jobrascals

கரன்சி நோட் பிரஸ் நிறுவனத்தின் பின் வரும் Junior Technician பணிகள் நிரப்புவதற்கான அறிவிப்பு வெளியாகியுள்ளன. மத்திய அரசு இந்த அதிகாரப்பூர்வ அறிவிப்பினை  வெளியிட்டுள்ளது. கரன்சி நோட் பிரஸ் பணிக்கு விண்ணப்பிக்க ஆர்வமுள்ளவர்கள் 24/11/2022 முதல் 16/12/2022க்குல் http://www.cnpnashik.spmcil.com என்ற இனையத்தில் ஆன்லைன் மூலமாக விண்ணப்பிக்கவும். இப்பணிக்கு விண்ணப்பிக்கும் நபர்கள் விண்ணப்பிக்கும் முன்பு…

[stone-cold-groove]

United States Five Dollar Silver Certificate - series 1896.

[aces-and-angels]

URGENT PSA: DELETED GFMS UPDATE- PLEASE READ

the detective hat is screwed on tight gang- i just remembered that the wayback machine exists and have been able to gather some additional information regarding the deleted gfm campaigns for omar, raina, and iman:

all the info is under the cut

---

see the info on the site yourselves by using the following links:

iman: https://www.gofundme.com/f/jhcjrv-help-imans-family-find-safety omar: https://www.gofundme.com/f/help-me-to-evacuate-from-the-genocide ran/raina: https://www.gofundme.com/f/displaced-gaza-family-seeks-help-after-war-destroys-lives

my hunch was correct: these campaigns were not formatted in the way gfm requires in order to stay operational. i detailed the common reasons why gfm's may be terminated in a response post to @rubashabansblog but i will include it again here:

ruba- i have figured out the following info from my own research. there are several issues that can result in a gfm being suspended. the biggest issue comes from how the actual campaign is written. the key is being transparent. that means everyone that is benefiting from the campaign must be listed out by name (there may be a rule about specifying any minors/kids' ages as well) + locations. the issue also may be linked to whoever is organizing these campaigns on behalf of these families. another part that needs to be addressed fully is who will be handling the money. essentially if at any point in the transfer of funds someone is responsible for holding the money raised, they need to be listed on the account plainly and on the actual donation page as well. example: person a is organizing this fundraiser on behalf of person b. the last issue i can think of from everything i've read involves keeping an accurate account of the family's expenses. meaning that you need to write down everything that you are spending the money on. since there's no way to print actual receipts- gfm is asking people to write everything down on their notes app with their phones. these notes count as "receipts" and the total amount must always equal the amount the person/people are trying to raise. example: say i am raising $10K to evacuate, but am planning on putting aside $3K for other future living expenses like rent -> all of that needs to be documented fully. basically- as long as goal amounts match up to your expense report- the campaign should be fine. i understand that some families may need to keep raising their goals in order to cover the cost of living before they are able to evacuate. if that is the case- each time they raise/decrease the goal- i believe they need to update their gfm page to address the new total costs for their fundraiser. please forward this information to the affected families when you get the chance 🖤 perhaps this new info can help them solve the problem on their end *edit: another problem i forgot to mention- the currencies must match between the fundraiser and the bank account it is linked to. this means that if the fundraiser is in euros-- the bank tied to the account must also be in a country that uses euros as their primary currency. a US-based bank account would not work if the fundraiser is in euros.

all three campaigns have the same characteristics: not enough info is being disclosed in the fundraisers. another common theme: they are all recently made (may 2024). the decision to evacuate is a painful choice for families to make as none of want to be displaced yet again- but the situation in gaza has prompted many families to make this decision in an attempt to save themselves + their loved ones. the issue is that many of those who are now choosing to make campaigns are not aware of the ins and outs of how to properly start a gfm (+ i'm most certain there are other factors at play as to why this keeps happening to families in desperate need of aid).

this is bound to happen again and again unless this information is being spread widely. which is why i am also asking for this:

please share this w/ anyone who is fluent in arabic that can translate this in its entirety (DO NOT TRY TO USE GOOGLE TRANSLATE). i have a lot of new followers from 🇵🇸, some of them with newly made gfm pages that may be at risk of being frozen if they do not correct the issues i've addressed above. this information is vital to ensuring they are able to continue fundraising.

i have seen campaigns launched in june formatted similarly to the three that have been abruptly terminated. obtaining a stable internet connection in gaza requires people to put themselves at greater risk as they travel to locations with a working signal. people have been brutally murdered by just trying to activate the e-sims being sent over. so it makes sense that these newer campaigns made by these families would not have all the necessary info required- as these guidelines may be difficult to obtain on their end/may be worded in a way they cannot understand (you try reading the terms and policies of gfm yourself and tell me how fast your brain shuts off- and you're doing so in the comfort of your own homes. imagine what it's like to do so while facing constant bombardment).

a mutual of mine has already tried to contact gfm on behalf of omar- and they have informed me of gfm's response to their question:

Omar has already contacted them and is apparently in contact with the team according to the person i chatted with. they cannot disclose to me *why* the fundraiser was terminated they said they are working with Omar to solve the issue. if the issue cannot be solved, the money will be refunded to everyone... ^ this "contact" is likely using the same chatbox the rest of us need to use in order to even speak to a representative at gfm one-on-one. a very annoying system, but unless someone has a direct line to gfm- it is our only option.

we need to mobilize right now and put pressure on gfm to give these families the time they need to rework their campaign pages.

through the wayback machine i was able to figure out the organizers for each campaign.

omar is the organizer for his own -> says he is located in vienna but that is in direct conflict w/ the location he says he is in under the fundraiser info (displaced in rafah). i'm unsure if he has a contact in vienna that is actually the one responsible for holding/transferring the money, but this information needs to get to them so they can try to fix the issue ASAP

the other two have beneficiaries listed, but there could be additional problems with how that whole thing is currently set up.

i still do not know the emails for raina/iman's gfm's (and the wayback machine doesn't let you see the contact info on the archived pages 😓) but- we can try to mobilize right now for omar. he is absolutely devastated and has lost hope that he will be able to recuperate the money he has already raised. this is not the time for the rest of us to lose faith in his cause.

for anyone interested in helping out- i have laid out all this information so you can question gfm directly. if you come in knowing your stuff, they may be more receptive in their responses than the first initial attempts. please contact me directly if you wish to email on omar's behalf so i can forward you his email linked to the gfm account.

tagging for more reach: @appsa @palms-upturned @malcriada

[ronearoundblindly]

For your Valentine's ask game: #7 Jake Jensen x reader, idk why but it seems fitting 😂

Shut Up, Jensen, one of my Valentine's Fics for 2024!

Oh, this poor, poor, awkward perv. He's pervy until there's a naked lady around and then 😳 "...when I was four, I shoved pennies up my nose..." Seriously, boi, shut up!

Warnings for spice, i.e. a setup to smutty times, but mostly suggestive. MINORS DNI, just to be safe. There's plenty for you to read on my Light Masterlist, but this one is not for you! WC 1042

You’ve always had a soft spot for nerds, and now, that’s translating to a damp spot on your fanciest panties you wore for this date.

Jake Jensen goofy-grinned his way through the entire evening, making you almost snort a tequila sunrise through your nose, and he never let up. The humor made you comfortable. It’s endearing to see his nervousness right on his graphic-T sleeve as opposed to being ‘manly’ and aloof.

It’s so, so refreshing to hear someone say, “I’m having a great time,” “I don’t want the night to end,” and know deep down in your bones that they mean “spending this time with you has made me happy” instead of “I’ve done enough to get laid now, right?”

Unsurprisingly, it does mean Jake’s done enough to get laid.

You give him your address so he could park his Jeep outside your building. There are parking meters, but tomorrow is Sunday when they’re free. No big deal. You left the bar (which was after the restaurant, which was after the coffee shop) a minute or two before in order to meet him at one of the open spots and walk him in. He can’t meet you at your door because there is a locked gate to your courtyard, and then a keypad for your building, and then about three corridors to navigate. It’s just easier to show him the way.

You can hear that fucking car coming a mile away.

Jake smiles and waves as he parallel parks—with extreme precision, you note—then hops out, gesturing to the meter questioningly.

“Don’t worry about it,” you shrug, jumping to the edge of the curb before he steps up so you can use the height for a kiss on his cheek.

It’s adorable how flustered he gets at just that tiny bit of affection. Though it’s dark, it’s obvious he blushes ferociously, rubbing at the back of his cropped, short hair, racing to gather his thoughts.

“Did you know there are almost three hundred ways to make change for a dollar? Two hundred ninety-three to be ex—woah—“

You grab his hand to lead him inside.

At the gate, you have to pause for the magnetic lock.

“I’m surprised those things even take change anymore,” Jake muses quietly, courteous for the neighbors’ sake, “because physical money only makes up 8% today’s currency…in the whole world.” He slides past the thick steel grating. “Thank you, digital banking.”

He follows behind you in the maze of concrete paths to the next entry.

“People leave like half a million dollars worth of loose change at airport security. That’s a little shocking,” he whispers when you motion for him to take a left, “think you’d splurge for some decent toilet paper with that kind of dough, or maybe some more cup holders in those row-seats? They could, I don’t know, offset the cost of making pennies. Shit cost two cents. Is worth one. Wild…

“Meanwhile, a dime has 118 ridges on the rim of the smallest circumference.”

Doesn’t even matter what he’s saying, the more his plump pink lips move, the more insanely turned on you get. You have to crowd him through your own doorway before you start stripping in the middle of the hall.

You peel your blouse off the instant your keys clatter onto the dinette table. You spin around to grab him by the screen-printed emblem of his t-shirt.

“There are 1.4 billion $2 bills in circulation.”

He gives a little oof sound when his back hits one of your bedroom walls, and there’s a barely audible whimper as your hands snake up under soft, well-worn fabric.

Holy shit, is this boy cut!

Your thumbs actually catch on the deep ridge of his Adonis belt. Dimes got nothing on you, Jake Jensen…

His breathing has changed significantly. “Did you know they—“ he gasps and swallows “—still make those?”

Ok, why is it hotter when he’s not even trying?

“Fun fact: if you went to Zimbabwe, guess which currency you’d…use?” The neckline of his shirt has to pop over his glasses before he fixes them. “The U.S. Dollar. Seriously! Same damn mon—EH.”

His belt buckle is tricky to navigate from this angle and in the very low light of your bedside lamp. You give up on his pants to unzip your skirt at the hip and let it fall.

Jake stands perfectly still with his hands half-raised.

“You’re…really fucking pretty—sorry—really pret—sexy, not that I—but beautiful. You’re really—”

He sucks in a breath as you step within inches of him again, reaching up to carefully pull his glasses over his ears and place them by the lamp.

“Fuck…”

Your index finger tucks into the elastic of his boxers where they peek out above the belt.

“Yeah, so I’ve been—I’m—I don’t have a—what I’m trying to say is—“ he squeezes his eyes shut and wiggles his fingers higher in the air, searching for the right thought “—the most commonly printed bill is actually the one-hundr—“

“Jake,” you interrupt, gently smoothing your hands over his thick shoulders. He is so ripped, what the hell? You guess there are nerds and then there are nerds, wow…

“Do you want to continue?”

He nods super fast, eyes growing wide in panic.

“Good.”

You smash your lips to his, hauling him down and you up by the sturdy tower of muscle he is.

“Condoms are in the drawer,” you mutter between breaths.

He lets out a high, choked whine before clamping his huge, warm hands to your waist, melting into you and your touch.

You coax the both of you toward the bed, swatting at his belt as a signal for him to help, and he does, though he’s not the greatest multitasker. He huffs and smirks, breaking the kiss so he can unlatch, unbutton, and unzip.

Then he looks up at you. 

“So you like movies…?”

You cup his jaw in your hand and pinch, a gentle peck on his lips as encouragement to focus. “Less talking, more fucking, Jensen.”

He opens his mouth, clearly running through a series of replies, but thinks better of it and  pushes down his pants and boxers all at once.

Lloyd Hansen and a kiss on a place of insecurity ⬅️ ➡️ Steve Rogers and a kiss on a scar

[Main Masterlist; Ko-Fi]

@supraveng @1950schick @patzammit @whiskeytangofoxtrot555 @yiiiikesmish @ashesofblackroses @spectre-posts @jaqui-has-a-conspiracy-theory @brandycranby @buckysprettybaby @ellethespaceunicorn @peyton--warren Y'all getting sick of me yet???

[ninja-knox-ur-sox-off]

THAT'S RIGHT FOLKS after goodness knows how long, Knox Commissions are finally Open!

There are 5 Slots Available for this run. [August 17th 2024.] If things go well I hope to open more in the future!

If you'd like to see more examples of my art feel free to scroll through my art tag #KNOX ART (me)

Update [sept 23 2024]: 3 slots available

[Edit Sept 23 2024: USD$ prices are subject to change based on inflation. CAD$ remains the same]

[T.O.S below cut]

Terms of service

01 - General Terms

• Prices are subject to change based on demand.

• I have the right to reject any order for any reason.

• I may not respond to e-mails/messages or do commission work on Sundays.

• Do not share my personal/legal information (my legal name etc.) with any third parties. If you do you forfeit your right to the commission and you will be blacklisted from ever commissioning me again.

02 - Payment

• The currency accepted is CAD or USD and can be paid through PayPal, or Kofi.

• Commissions can be paid either 100% upfront or split 50% upfront and 50% after sketch approval.

• Don’t send me any payment before I have agreed to give you a slot and requested you to send me the payment.

03 - Process & Delivery

• ​The time it takes to finish your commission varies 1 week - 3 months depending on factors such as health, the complexity of the commissioned piece, other work, and personal matters.

• Once the piece is finished you will receive the full-resolution image. Note that there is no physical product.

04 - Revisions

• You get 3 rounds of changes on the commissioned piece included in the price.

• A fee will be added if you want something changed on the final drawing - unless a misunderstanding from my side has been made.

• If you wish for me to change something in the drawing you have previously approved, I will charge you a fee to change it. The amount of the extra charge depends on the change you want me to make and is usually based on an hourly wage.

• If your reference is unclear to start with, changes will come at an extra charge.

05 - Copyright & Usage

• I, "Knox" (the artist):

• I reserve the right to cancel and refund the order at any time for any reason.

• I retain all copyrights over the commissioned artwork.

• I will NOT claim the intellectual property (IP) of the commissioned artwork (your characters are still yours, etc.)

• I will NOT profit further from the commissioned artwork unless you (the customer) break any of the terms.

• I reserve the right to post the commissioned artwork online, in my portfolio as well as in publications such as art books.

• You (the customer/commissioner):

• You may upload the commissioned artwork on any website and social channels.

• You may NOT make profits from the commissioned piece (reselling, redistributing, uploading to POD-services, making prints for selling, using in a monetized youtube channel thumbnail etc.)

• You may NOT alter the commissioned artwork without my (the artist's) consent.

• You MAY be allowed to sell the artwork if it is a part of an Adoptable. Please discuss this with me (the artist) prior to paying for the artwork though.

• You retain the rights to the intellectual property (IP).

• You may NOT use the commissioned artwork for commercial purposes.

• The following is considered copyright infringement:​

• Reproducing/using the copyrighted artwork commercially - means making money off it in any way not excluded from these terms.

• Claiming the artwork as your own

• Altering the artwork without my consent (making changes by hand or through AI generation etc.)

• In some cases, the commercial rights to the image may be purchased.

06 - Cancellation & Refund policy

• The buyer is not allowed a refund once I have started working on the commission.

• If for any reason I am unable to start your commission you will receive a full refund.

• If you cancel your order before I started it, you can get a full refund.

• The kill fee for cancelling the commission after work has begun is 50% of the commission's price. The client then receives the work as is.

• If the buyer wishes to cancel the commission after the work has started, the buyer can be issued a refund but agrees to pay the kill fee.

Paypal specific:

• If you are getting a refund, do not request a Paypal chargeback. I will transfer the money back to you myself.

• If you request a Paypal chargeback at any point when you were not allowed to ask for a refund you will lose all aforementioned rights to the commissioned piece and I will have the full right to profit further from it in any way. I will decline the chargeback and supply Paypal with our conversations in which we talk about the commission as evidence that I have completed work for you. Furthermore, you will be blacklisted for commissioning me again.

By commissioning me you acknowledge that you have read through the Terms of Service and agree to abide by the terms stated as well as accept the outcomes stated if the aforementioned terms are violated at any time.

[passionateseadruid]

Snake king’s bride 7

Holiday Havoc part 1 of 2

CW: Swearing, religious topics, Violence, one mention of dub-con and more

Summary:

This chapter was brought to you by spite and Lucifer’s slutty waist and sluttier child bearing hips. Man needs to close his FUCKING LEGS!

Notes:

HEY REALLY QUICK IMPORTAINT NOTE: So in this chapter there's gonna be a lot of references to religion and a surprise and ONE mention of Dubcon at the end. If you are uncomfortable feel free to skip this chapter. If you want to skip the chapter but you want to see the surprise I’ll leave a note at the end.   Also sorry this took so long to get out, I was having a hard time getting inspiration for this and then my computer broke. And on top of that a good 30 minutes of work was Deleted! Fuck ao3

It's been a few weeks since you've met Fizzarolli. He hasn't Been able to find anything but you're hopeful because you'll actually get to see him again at the end of the week for the kings annual holiday party. To top it all off you haven't bought a single present for anyone (plus you're not even sure who it's appropriate to buy presents for).

But none of that is what you were concerned with right now. No, right now you have to convince the short blond idiot in front of you not to wear a green tree print tux embroidered top to bottom in tinsel, lights, and other decorations.

"First of all, you are NOT coming with me to my parents dinner-"

"Of course I am! I have to introduce myself to my new in-laws." He cuts you off playfully sticking out his forked tongue.

"I figured you'd overstep again." You sighed. "If that's the case then secondly you cannot wear that to this dinner. All of my brothers are gonna be there, plus Lilian is gonna be there. I want to make a good impression so that you don't kill them."

"Okay fine. What do you want me to wear?" He sighed. Under his happy exterior he was fairly nervous.

You went into his closet and looked through his clothes. "We also need to set up some ground rules. My entire family is veryreligious and while I'm no Mother Teresa I still don't want them to worry about me."

"Teresa was such a goodie two shoes. I observed her when she was alive and she was even more virtuous than anyone else makes her out to be." He sighed and looked toward the ground for a moment. "She... reminds me of someone I knew back in heaven. Or she did, but the angel I knew... changed"

"Really? You don't talk about your past much."

"...You said you had ground rules for me." Lucifer avoided your eyes as he changed the subject.

"Firstly, don't tell them anything about you being the devil; or about heaven or hell; oh or about our situation. Secondly, don't mention Charlie; I don't want them freaking out about you being billions of years older than me, or about the fact that you have a daughter whose old enough to be my sister."

"She's actually old enough to be your great grandma."

"And you don't find any problem with this relationship."

"Darling look I know that we're an... ahem... unusual couple but I can't go on without you. I'll do anything to have you." He cups your chin and forces a kiss.

"Rule three, you are not allowed to be overly sexual. I have four brothers and three of them have kids so no groping me and no talking about how you wanna diddle my holes in my sleep."

"That's disgusting, I wouldn't do that to you." He defended against your accusation. 

"Okay we should probably go over each of my family members and their jobs. I hope we'll have enough time to go over this and get them presents."

"Don't worry! We'll just give each of them $10,000."

"Hells currency isn't going to be valuable on earth.

"I know. But for all your protests towards my affection you sure seem to forget who I am. I'm the Devil darling. I have pretty much every politician in my pocket. Here check this out!" He pulled you away from the clothes and into a side room off of his bedroom. Never a good thing to have. He shows you a room that's mostly filled with carnival games. "Here I'll spin this wheel, you take a dart and throw it at them. Whoever it lands on I'll go have a little chat with."

"How about you do that and I'll go pick out something for you to wear." This was just too weird. "If you're absolutely serious we'll need 14 grand."

////////////////////////////////////////

About an hour later you two were sitting in the kitchen going over your family members. He wore the red sweater with a big duck plastered on the front and black pants you'd picked out. It was annoying having him matching your red sweater and floor length black skirt but nothing could be done about it considering the only other option was letting him dress like an idiot.

"Okay so my Mom’s name is Janice, she likes crafts. Dad's name is Dalton and he and my oldest brother Austin like to weld and woodwork. Austin is divorced and has only one girl, her name is Monika. Don't worry she's probably not gonna want to talk to anyone let alone you. My next oldest brother is Peter who's married to Margaret and they has twin boys named Christopher and Evan. Everyone calls Christopher CC though, since he likes that the best. The twins and their dad like rollercoasters and the batfam. Dallas is the brother I'm closest with and he is the epitome of middle child, very class clown type. He has two kids a boy names James and a girl named Missy. He lost his wife last year so don't don't bring it up okay? And finally my spoiled brother Michael. He's the youngest son, my mom's pride and joy. The golden boy, her favorite. Him and his Fiancée got married this summer in July. She despises me so whatever you do bite your tongue and be as nice as you can to her okay? The last thing I need is for Maggie to start crying."

"Golden boy Michael hits a bit to close to home for me." Lucifer looked away from you. Just anywhere away from your figure.

'Oh like that isn't your fault.' You thought, thankful that he couldn't read your mind. "Got all that?"

"Yep." He motions to a notepad that he wrote it all down on. "Quick question. What's the "BatFam"?"

"Bat family. Like Batman and all his robins. Here I should have a picture on my old phone of them last year trick or treating. Peter was Batman, Margaret was cat woman, Evan was Nightwing AKA Dick Grayson, and CC was the fifth robin, Damien Wayne."

"What about your old roommate?"

"Lilian moved in with her uncle when we were 14. He worked a lot to provide for her so she was left alone most holidays. I invited her over one year and she basically became part of the family. Are you ready to go? The fudge I made yesterday has probably settled by now."

"Yeah, let's go." He held out his hand. You took the fudge in your hands instead. He frowned and opened the portal. You both stepped through and found yourselves at your parents house. Lucifer knocked on the door and 

"Auntie!" James shouted from behind the CC who'd opened the door.

"Hi auntie!" CC smiled as the two boys hugged you.

"Hi boys! Let me get inside and put the fudge down." You smiled warmly, not noticing the short man behind you seething. Yes Lucifer knew how childish it was to be jealous of two young boys, and your nephews at that, but he couldn't help it. You smiled so warmly at them and you gave them the attention he so desperately craved.

You two walked in with the boys in toe. 

"How's my favorite baby sister?" Dallas asked as you set the fudge down on the counter and he picked you up to twirl you from behind. "Better not be doing the Devil’s Tango with that deviant." He teased quietly so only you heard him.

You giggled. "I'm doing fine."

"You better be! Do you know how worried we were when Lilian told us you ran away with your fiancé! None of us even knew you were engaged! Why didn't you tell us?" Austin pulled you out of Dallas's hold and squeezed your shoulders protectively.

"Her and I had a bit of a spur of the moment engagement. I mean if it feels right and they’re the one, why not tie the knot." Lucifer put his arm around your waist. "Hi, call me Lucy. Lucy Magne." He held out his other hand for either of your brothers to take. Austin takes his hand and his eyes widens when he feels the Devils cold black hand.

"Sorry. It's a skin condition. Very rare. Not hereditary."

"Uh huh." Austin looked suspiciously at him.

"Bestie!" Lilian runs up to you.

"Lilian hi! I- oof!” You were cut off by her hug.

"Why didn't you tell me you got a sugar daddy?" She whispered.

"A what?!" You blushed.

"Come on I'm not dumb. A man shows up in a clean white suit and asks about all the things you like. He says he wants to provide for you. It's so obvious it's painful."

"Well it's not as simple as that." You tried to explain but you were pulled away by your parents.

"Sweetheart! Where have you been? So much has happened in these past four months." Your mom hugged you. "I'm sorry mom. Things just happened and my life got kinda hectic."

"You're not pregnant are you?" She asked.

"What? No."

"Then why did you drop out of college? You practically fell off the face of the earth. You're only 19, you should live your life. You don't need to grow up so quickly. We already have 5 grandchildren, you don't need to rush into marriage and family life. You should enjoy being young."

"I know mom." 'But I don't really have a choice.' "Him and I aren't rushing in to anything like that though. He's just… passionate about me and kinda… clingy."

"Come on Janice. We raised our girl right. She knows not to run around with degenerates." Your father came up to you both and squeezed your mother’s shoulder reassuringly. "Hi pumpkin." He turned to you.

"Hi dad." You two hugged each other. He led you over to the dining table and sat you down next to Lucifer who was arm wrestling with Monika.

"Why you going easy on me, old man? Just cause I'm a girl?"

"Haha… hah…" He chuckled awkwardly. "Who is she Goliath? I wasn't going easy on her." He whispered to you.

You looked at Monika. "Suplex him next." You smiled towards her as Lucifer's face fell. "It's nice to see you off your phone for once Monika."

"I guess I'm in a holiday mood since it's nearly Christmas." Everyone eventually came over to the table to eat.

////////////////////////////////////////

After about an hour of talking with your siblings you heard crying coming from the playroom your parents built decades ago.

"Is anyone hurt? Did the bookshelf fall down on someone? Did the curtain rod smack someone on the head?"

"Your freaky Fiancé made Missy cry." Evan pointed at you accusingly as James held the tot in his arms.

"What did you do?" You asked Furiously.

"Nothing." He held his arms up defensively. "It was just some light teasing."

"He said the goat man was gonna eat me!" Missy sniffled. 

"What goat man?" You rubbed her cheeks, whipping her tears away.

"Krampus." James answered.

"I didn’t say he was gonna eat her. I said Krampus beats naughty children who don't share with their siblings." Lucifer explained.

"I didn't even want the stuffed moose that badly. I swear I didn’t Auntie."

You shushed James and turned to the Devil. "What is wrong with you?! Why would you think that’s okay to say to CHILDREN?!"

"Honey I-"

You ran your hand through your hair. "You know what? I want you out. I’ll see you tomorrow but right now I need to be alone."

"What…?" His eyes widened.

"Leave. You've caused enough commotion for my family. My brother Austin thinks you're a creep. My mom, Dallas, and Lilian all think you're a deviant. And now you're traumatizing my niece and Nephews."

He left out the back door and you explained the situation to your parents afterwards.

////////////////////////////////////////

"Okay seriously this guy’s bad news sis." Michael persuaded as you two sat on the couch. It's been almost an hour and things are starting to die down. You and your youngest older brother sat in the kitchen talking by the island. "Look I know we've never been super close but you're my favorite sister and I worry about you. Without you, I'd be the one they shirk responsibility of watching the kids onto."

You rolled your eyes. 'Of course.' "So what do you suggest I do now?"

"Dump him. It's not like you need to get married. I mean, come on. You? A wife? HA! No, you're not the marriage type."

"I suppose. The only problem is that I can't get this stupid ring off." You look away. He goes to the cabinet and pulls out some vinegar. He grabs your hand and pours a bit on your ring but it won't come off. He pulled and pulled but it still wouldn't come off.

"WHAT DO YOU THINK YOU'RE DOING TO MY BRIDE?!" A distorted voice came from the Fireplace in the living room. Out stepped Lucifer back in his white suit with his top hat. His red horns popped out of his head, fire sprouting between them. Just like at the ball; only this time he sprouted a tail. He grabbed you and pulled you toward the fireplace.

"NO! LET ME GO!" You thrashed in his hold. In a Last ditch Effort you grabbed the crucifix hanging on the wall and said, "Matthew 10:14 Begone Satan!"

"Ow! First of all it only works if you say the whole thing. Secondly IM NOT HIM!!" He slapped the cross out of your hand and slapped you to the floor. "AND FINALLY YOU REMEMBER WHAT I SAID WOULD HAPPEN IF YOU EVER BROUGHT UP THAT BOOK AGAIN. HOW ABOUT I KILL YOUR FAMILY INSTEAD SO YOU LEARN NOT TO FUCK WITH ME- Ah!" You two were cut off by a shot ringing out throughout the house and your dad holding a smoking shotgun in the doorway. "FUCK YOU! THAT’S GONNA BRUISE LIKE A BITCH TOMORROW!!"

"NO NO NO, PLEASE PLEASE. I'll do anything you want but please don't hurt my family." You clung to his striped vest as hot, fat tears ran down your face. 

His cheeks flushed at the sight of you sobbing, begging on the ground. He bit his lip as he fantasized about all the things he could do to you here and now.

"Stop! His skin is turning red! You're making him angrier!" Michael called.

"Shut up you horse-shit eater! Ah!" He cried as your mom rushed in and sprayed him with holy water. A few places on him started to blister like a burn. A few on his right horn and arm and one on the shell of his ear.

"PLEASE! ILL DO ANYTHING!" You begged, wrapping your arms around his small waist.

"I'll spare them if you vow to never contact them again. And I get to do whatever I want to you tonight."

"Deal!"

"NO!" Several members of your family shout. He envelopes your hand as a fiery illusion overtakes both of your hands and he pulls you into the fireplace.

Notes:

Yep, your dad has a shotgun now! Yay?j

[punderdome]

Infernal Jurisprudence: Chapter 1

Summary: It had been centuries since a specific soul captured Raphael’s attention so completely. The devil coveted her body and soul and sought to ensnare her in a contract at any cost. It wouldn’t be long before her desperation set in, and a cat would capture a Little Mouse within his claws. And that, love, was that.

Notes: This is a relatively short prequel to the Fine Print, where Raphael schemes to ensnare Tav. Should be readable without reading the Fine Print first. Note that this fic is going to contain a ton of BG3 spoilers - so you know, don’t read it if you don’t want to be spoiled. Or do. I don’t control you.

[AO3]

Chapter 1: The Mouse

Raphael had closed thousands upon thousands of contracts for boons in exchange for mortal souls.  Mortals were so often fragile and desperate, and it was such a delectable combination that always leads to a favorable negotiation.  He savored the smell of nervous sweat and the motions of trembling.  Other times, the mortals viewed the deal for their soul like a joke.  Raphael would sit across from them in his human guise, with a smile that even reached his eyes as he watched the signatures dance upon the scrolls.

The devil would feed on their sins as they fell deeper into his traps.  Greed was a standard flavor of sin, occurring so often that the souls that bore it felt more like a commodity.  Some souls were envious and left a void in their wake, leaving one hungrier after the meal.  Lust was heady and sweet with an underlying bitterness and shame.  Wrath was the spice of pepper that led to deep burning consequences like blood and gallows.  Pride was Raphael’s favorite sin to sup.  Pride was complex and often unique with underlying flavors of other dishes that were unique to each mortal.

So many mortal souls.  So simple.  So easy.

Raphael sought Faerun for desperate souls.  A powerful soul would command a higher price point.  Along the Chionthar, he found the type of souls that he favored.  There was an entire collection of desperate fools needing a savior.

He was a savior.  That was for certain.

Raphael grinned as he surveyed his prey.  A sorceress with scales.  A dominating Gith.  A discarded wizard.  A cleric absent memory.  A masquerading vampling.  A warlock pacted to one of Zariel’s assets.  A burning Tiefling.

He watched them silently, delighted by the haul that he could soon collect.  They were all desperate and infected.  Beyond existing as mere currency for his Infernal machinations, all of the band of infected had power.  Power enough to collect a Crown that Raphael had been coveting for millennia.

Raphael was a patient devil.  He would show himself when the time was right and true fear had taken root within their addled minds.  

He happily watched through the scrying mirror as the Gith argued with the sorceress of the need to find a creche.  The poorly-concealed Sharran cleric held the only power keeping them from their Illithid fates.  The runed dodecahedron hummed and glowed and kept their souls intact while tucked tightly within her supplies.

It was oh, so convenient that he, the great Raphael, held the very weapon that could free the captive Githyanki inside the Astral Prism.  So very convenient, indeed.

His wrists with Infernal chains were bound

Mother Gith’s son, equipped to destroy the Illithid

Trapped within an Astral Prism now found

That Vlaakith once she herself hid.

Raphael could sense the rising anxiety amongst the band of adventurers, as the Druid grove proved to be a hindrance rather than a help.  The sorceress was poisoned by an overeager apprentice healer, but all managed to survive the encounter.  He could taste the rising desperation as the options started to disappear.

It was time to make his entrance from stage right.

Little mice and rats and squirrels (and one unruly frog) had few places to run on a nearby broken bridge.  Raphael straightened his doublet and snapped, appearing before his adventurers in a flurry of embers with the scent of cherries following him.

The sorceress eyed him curiously.  She was pale with patches of silvery white dragon scales adorning her upper forehead and cheekbones.  Brunette curls were pinned back behind her head and trailing down her back.  Her green eyes gleamed at him, and her pleasant mouth twisted into a light smile.

“Hello, pleased to make your acquaintance,” she said calmly, offering her hand in greeting.  Raphael found the deviation from his script displeasing.

The cambion cleared his throat.  “Pleased to make your acquaintance,” he lifted her hand and kissed the back of it gently, trying to regain control of the scene.

He gave her a gentle smile before beginning his lines.  “My, my, what manner of place is this?” Raphael offered smoothly.

The sorceress laughed.  “Somewhere in Faerun between Baldur’s Gate and Elturel,” she offered easily.  Raphael’s eyes narrowed.  This was his scene.

“Is it a path to redemption, or a road to damnation?” Raphael gave a grand gesture of uncertainty in their path forward.  “Hard to say, for your journey is just beginning.”  Raphael gave his characteristic grin.

The sorceress smirked at him.  “The mindflayer tadpoles would suggest a path to redemption,” she laughed sarcastically.  Raphael bristled at the way she was mocking him.

He absolutely should flay her.  He should take her back to the House of Hope, strip her down and-

Raphael pushed down his feelings, though he was aware how beautiful the silver-scaled sorceress was.  “What would suit the occasion?  The words to a lullaby perhaps?  The mouse smiled brightly: it outfoxed the cat!  Then down came the claw-” he was rudely interrupted by a sorceress.

“And that, love, was that,” she finished easily.

“They do know how to write them in Cormyr don’t they?” Raphael waited for her agreement.

“I prefer the lullabies from the dales,” the sorceress responded.  “They have a wider variety of animals in their verse.  More chickens and cattle and pigs.”

He absolutely could not let this beautiful sorceress continue to disrupt his scene.

Raphael dramatically bowed.  “I am Raphael, very much at your service, my dear.”

“Tav,” she responded quickly.  He raised an eyebrow.  ‘Tav’ was so undignified, it had to be shortened for a much more appropriate name.  

“This quaint little scene is decidedly much too middle-of-nowhere for my tastes.  Come.” Raphael invited with a snap of embers.

His adventurers had arrived at the House of Hope, a grand feast awaiting them.  The Warlock and the burning Tiefling responded with panic.  The Sharran and the Gith were thoroughly confused.  The vampling and wizard stood concerned.

The sorceress, Tav, was unimpressed.  She went to the feast table and immediately started to load a plate.  Raphael’s eyes narrowed.  What was she doing?

He cleared his throat.  “There, middle-of-somewhere,” he recited.  Tav was buttering a piece of bread before putting it onto her plate with other fruits and vegetables from Toril.  The sorceress seemed entirely uninterested in the conversation as she sat down at the table and started to eat.

Raphael addressed the discarded wizard.  “The House of Hope, where the tired come to rest, and the famished come to feast - lavishly,” he glared at the adventurer blatantly ignoring him.  She was cutting a piece of Durinbold cheese from a wheel on the table.

Raphael motioned to the table where the sorceress sat, indulging her appetites.  “Go on.  Partake. Enjoy your supper,” he invited with a broad grin.  “After all, it might just be your last.”

The devil grinned, waiting to see what most of the adventurers would do.  Most of the adventurers stood still, except for Tav,  who seemed to be feasting without concern, unlike the shock and fear from her companions.

The sorceress placed her fork on her plate with a light tink.  “You may as well show them what you truly are,” she challenged, lightly dabbing at her beautiful mouth with the napkin she had grabbed from her lap.

Raphael tried not to sneer at the gluttonous creature before him.  “Well, far be it from me to disappoint.”  He shed his human guise, appearing before the adventurers in his cambion form.  The sorceress Tav only smirked at him as he shook off the lingering flames from the transformation.

Raphael stared at Tav where she sat at his table.  “What’s better than a devil you don’t know?”  He chuckled lightly to himself, “a devil you do.”  The sorceress sat unmoved by his speech.

There was growing concern within the adventuring group.  “Shit, a cambion,” the fiery Tiefling spit angrily.  All of them were filled with unease.  All but one.  The sorceress.

Their visages were set in fear quite alight,

Contracts should not be too hard to press.

All of them destined to a horrible plight.

All afraid except for one sorceress.

Tav.

She cocked her head and watched him continue his speech.  “Am I a friend?  Potentially.  An adversary?  Conceivably.  But a savior?  That’s for certain,” he delivered with a smug grin, just as he rehearsed.  She continued to watch him silently with a slight smile on her face, no longer interrupting his performance with her off script lines.

“What makes you think we need saving?” the wizard challenged.  Raphael raised his hands and motioned easily towards their heads.

“You’re in deep over your tadpooled heads,” Raphael challenged, once again looking at where the sorceress sat.  She had taken up eating her meal again, observing the conversation but not contributing to it.

“One skull, two tenants and-” Raphael started, motioning to the wizard.

“You are the only solution to our problem,” the sorceress, Tav, blurted out in perfect Infernal.  “Obviously.”

Raphael had to swallow down his surprise that a human with draconic heritage spoke the language of the Hells.  Tav took a swallow from a goblet of wine, looking down at her plate again, as if she was debating whether to pick up her fork and continue eating.

Her companions all turned towards her after she finished her quip in the Devil’s tongue.  Raphael cracked a smile, gathering crucial information that none of them had realized of her linguistic prowess.

“You realize I could fix it all like that?” Raphael snapped and a lick of flame sputtered from his claws.

“Of course you could,” Tav answered.  She placed her napkin on her plate and stood, brushing out her robes.  “Though I doubt you would do it for free.”

She gazed above him at his portrait - one of Raphael’s finest, showing his command over Hellfire and the horizons of Avernus.

Tav walked in front of her companions and stood before him.  His jaw clenched at her continued acts of defiance.

“Go ahead, exhaust every possibility until none are left.”  He had practiced the last section several times and was frustrated at her continued insistence on going off script.  “I will be waiting,” he growled menacingly.

He snapped and returned the sorceress’s companions to Prime Material.

Tav smiled at him.  “Thank you for your hospitality, Raphael,” she continued in Infernal.  He snapped again and sent that foul creature back to whence she had come.

He took a deep breath.  Tav lingered in his mind.  She was quite beautiful, especially for a mortal.  She had known what he was as soon as they met while her companions remained unaware.

Who was she?

Raphael sighed in frustration.  He would need to learn more about this Little Mouse.

[copperbadge]

Book Price Drop!

Well, that was almost comically easy. 

Turns out, to pull my books from "global distribution” I really just need to uncheck a box and then manually adjust the price. They may still appear on other sites for a while, I’m not sure how that works, but they are now officially retailed only through Lulu.com.

The epubs, because those aren’t subject to the same fees, will remain the same price; they will also still be available through other retailers. Someone sent me an ask about epubs and Kindle which I will publish that when I get a hot second, but fortunately the epubs and print books aren’t married to each other and can go their separate ways. 

Anyway, below are links and price drops; they’re in USD, but the prices should have fallen internationally, I adjusted every currency downwards. These are just for the books, without tax or postage included.  

Fete For A King: $13 to $11

Infinite Jes: $13 to $11

The Lady And The Tiger: $13 to $11

The Shivadh Romances Omnibus, Paperback: $29 to $20

The Shivadh Romances Omnibus, Hardcover: $52 to $30

The Twelve Points of Caleb Canto: $19 to $13

If you’re new and would like to read these but are perplexed about what to buy, the books are listed above in chronological order; the “Omnibus” editions are just single-volume reprints of the first three books, and Twelve Points is the fourth book in the series. As always, you can find my entire published ouvre, print and epub, here.

Six Harvests was also under Global Distribution but I think because it was before this rate hike, it didn’t have the mandatory minimum the others did. I’ve pulled it from Global anyway but the price hasn’t dropped, because it was already priced appropriately. The rest of the print books aren’t in global distribution anyway, so they stayed the same. Over the next year I may do a bit of an overhaul to get everything up to style-guide standard, and if that happens the prices may change, but I’ll warn before I do it so if the prices go up people can buy the cheaper versions. 

I feel disproportionately relieved. I didn’t realize just how much annoyance I was carrying around over the pricing of these books. It doesn’t feel like $2 should make much of a difference, but that $22 price drop on the hardcover omnibus was like letting a couple of lead weights fall off my shoulders. 

Again, you guys have my sincerest apologies for this; if I had realized what was causing the spike sooner I absolutely would have fixed it, and if I’d known when I published them I wouldn’t have done it to begin with. Going forward the pricing should be marginally more reasonable :) And on that note, I am working currently to get the short story anthology out by late August, so stay tuned! 

[argumate]

I always feel perplexed every time I see the claim that "governments need to finance their deficits" (Matt Levine made it today) as modern governments can simply print money as needed to meet their spending requirements, and if you say they can't do this indefinitely well they can't borrow indefinitely either! (and even if they could, they would eventually run out of money to borrow unless they printed some, gave it to someone, and then borrowed it back from them, which seems unnecessarily indirect).

but then there's still an important purpose to government borrowing: the interest rate they pay is the big lever by which they control how much money is sloshing (surging, flooding, pumping, etc.) into and out of the private sector!

when the government pays high interest rates, people with money will give it to them instead of investing it elsewhere, and when the government pays low interest, or zero interest, or negative interest, people with money will search desperately for anywhere else they can invest it: the share market, speculative ventures, WeWork, crypto, whatever.

so the government doesn't borrow because it has to, it borrows because this is a powerful tool for shaping the course of the national -- and in the case of the US, global -- economy.

(note: this primarily applies to the governments of wealthy nations borrowing from their own citizens, it doesn't apply to cash-strapped governments of developing nations, which are often dependent on foreign investment and beholden to borrowing in foreign currency from other countries and institutions like the IMF).

[merkygloom]

Hi tumblr! Offering one (1) tumblr only 3D sculpt slot for FR currency on here :) I'm saving up for a big flight rising purchase. A few renders, a turnaround video and the model itself will be included. NOTE - my print models don't come with supports - you'll need to add those yourself in the printing software of your choice. (estimated prices, it will depend on your characters complexity) 3D printable (unpainted)

Head/bust - 2k g

Full body 4k g

OC reference (painted, not printable)

Head/bust - 3k g

Full body 4.5k g

I can model:

dragons

anthro/furry

animals

humanoid characters, ideally cartoony

Fan characters (Dungeons and Dragons, Pokemon, Wings of Fire)

I will match your art style as best I can! Complex weapons and accessories will be an extra cost. But I can model them!

Probably no:

Translucent/see through, glow effects. I am bound by the limitations of ZBrush materials (Maybe. Depends if I feel like playing software hot-potato and rendering in Maya)

Please no:

anything against FR's rules

hard-surface mecha, vehicles

realistic humans

written-only reference, I need a model sheet to model from

Price may be higher for very complex characters.

[stone-cold-groove]

United States Ten Dollar Note (obverse) - series 1914.

[quill-of-thoth]

Letters from Watson, the Engineer's Thumb

Crimes in Context: Counterfeiting, circa 1889

What coins were the Stark-Becher gang trying to make, anyway? And did they actually need a person squishing hydraulic press to do it?

Most of the cash in circulation in Victorian England would have been coins, so it's time to refresh our memories on what they all are, since I last addressed currency smaller than a pound in The Man with the Twisted Lip. We will be restricting ourselves to denominations that the Stark-Becher gang may have been minting, based on the comment that the hydraulic press was necessary to make coins that were previously minted in silver.

Imperial Currency Definitions

Pound/Quid/Sovereign: Not applicable, the Sovereign coin is gold, but it's the base unit of the currency we're dealing with. It also would have been hard to pass as genuine just because it's a large denomination - the era's equivalent of a hundred dollar bill. Indeed, our Bank of England inflation calculator returns a modern value of £107.

Crown: Five shillings / a quarter pound. Represented by a silver coin. Probably the largest coin you'd make change for without being annoyed by it.

Shilling: 1/20th of a pound. A silver coin. Crowns and Shillings are our most likely candidates, as they're in common use in 1889 and is the kind of cash an average man might have on hand. I personally think shillings are the most likely coin to counterfeit, as a lot of accounting of people's wages, expenses, etc. in this time period is written as pounds / shillings / pennies (L/s/d) and silver pennies (And their horrible spawn of sixpence, twopence, etc) are probably not worth the effort. Also, while there were silver pennies in circulation, the fact that things like silver twopence were minted for maundy money makes the timeline and consistency of their minting beyond my pay grade as a blogger. And probably confusing for a coiner to get exactly right, given the payoff. Hydraulic press:

Modern (paper*) money is printed with several aspects that make it harder to reproduce: the exact fiber content of the paper, the multi layered and detailed design (with parts that can only be seen under UV light, parts that can only be seen with a magnifying glass, etc.), the embossed parts of the print design, and the exact chemical components of the ink can be analyzed to see if a note is authentic. The ink in US dollars also contains a smattering of heavy metals that aren't great for human health, so I don't recommend consuming money in any way - don't lick it, don't snort things off it, don't put it in your blender for a science fair project. It would be chemically somewhat dangerous to counterfeit modern currency at home, assuming you got anywhere close to the right ink.

*Some countries use polymer, but same difference. It will kill your blender, though.

The Victorians did... none of that, really. The idea of designing money to be harder to fake was already around, but metal coins can only be produced to a certain degree of precision with the tools that were available in the 1800's: you essentially heat a disk of the correct metal (a blank) and press it with a stamp. The hydraulic press would, of course, squash blanks between two plates of stamps precisely, and with great force.

Both silver and gold have relatively low melting points (under 2,000 degrees F / close to 1,000 C) and are malleable at lower temperatures than the iron or steel of a hydraulic press. Silver amalgam (a silver/mercury alloy) has an even lower melting point, so it would be even easier to fit to a mold.

Essentially, anybody who knew much about molding metal and could get a precise-ish model of the coin in question would make pretty convincing money. A hydraulic press large enough to fit three grown men between the plates of may have been overkill.

[existslikepristin]

Been holding on to this one in a finished/unedited state for a few months now because I wasn't too happy with it. @worldsover did some editing for me. It still feels like something's missing (I'm not going to try to make Levi literally rewrite the whole thing), so feel free to give me critiques and suggestions, even if it's "yeah, I see what you mean and it is a little odd". I don't want to avoid posting it for forever, so let's call it a learning experience.

Regardless, I hope you enjoy! This is my first explicitly stated female reader insert, so that's yet another fun step.

(Also, I know I promised that the next story would be "normal" but you know what? Anything is normal compared to my last fic, so the only critique I will not be accepting is "Waaah, this isn't 'normal!'")

Tags: NSFW, TheLounge, Red Velvet, Irene, Female reader insert, anal, rimming, not a single line of dialogue, canonical silence, ass worship, massage oils, hand holding, yeah you’re deeefinitely the dominant one here

Open and Shut Up

~~~~~

No talking.

You can get behind that. That’s totally sexy. What’s less sexy… is a flowchart.

Obviously, you printed it out. Irene is going to be paying you for thi—It’s not payment, you remind yourself. It’s a mutual favor between acquaintances which may or may not involve money or goods/services which require it.

You scowl retroactively at Yeri’s so-called humorous insistence that you are, effectively, a prostitute. Performing sex acts in exchange, one time, for smoked salmon bagels is most definitely not prostitution, as you have reminded her many times.

Trying very hard to put that train of thought behind you, you glance around at the room. Low light, vanilla lavender sandalwood candles, obscenely soft towels, lube options, massage oils, and the stupid fucking laminated flowchart. You sigh—

NO! You don’t sigh, actually! Because the no talking rule was emphasized in great detail during negotiations, and included moans, groans, hums, whispers, grunts, and unnecessarily heavy breathing. And since a sigh is a heavy breath, you fucking hold that shit in tight!

But why do you need to hold in your sighs? Well, because of the final feature of the room that wasn’t mentioned two paragraphs ago: Irene, lying entirely nude on her stomach, on a bed of silk sheets, implying that your job—NOT your job, excuse you—has already begun. You entered the room mere seconds ago, so this should be extremely obvious to you, but you had to take care of a bit of exposition before you could really admire her body or get into the action. Perhaps you should do one of those two things now.

You can hardly believe what you’re seeing. Her slim legs and waist, the expanse of her back easily defeating the silkiness of the sheets she’s on, her elegant neck, her luxurious pitch black hair twirled into a loose bun, and the mild plumpness of her ass, peeking out from above the creases where her thighs meet it. Now, you’ve seen plenty of naked idols, but it’s the prestige that comes with this idol in particular that may have you so excited. Or it’s what she wants you to do to her. It’s hard to say. Point is, you’re wet, and you’re probably going to have to lay down a towel of your own.

On that note, you forgot an important aspect of the exposition: You’re not allowed to touch yourself.

That’s right. You’re in a room with a naked Irene, perhaps the most desired (per capita by fans and/or marketing departments) idol in history, preparing to gape her asshole in exchange for goods and/or services and/or currency totalling in value no less than the approximate equivalent worth of this spa treatment, and you aren’t supposed to get yourself off. But you are supposed to be naked, so you remove your shirt and bra, making just enough noise for her to hear you undressing, since that’s supposed to be how you let her know you’re about to start—

Oh, yes. Did you forget the most, actually, critically important part of your exposition? Oh, you think you caught on to it moments ago? Why, yes. You’re here, specifically, to gape her asshole. No more, except any action that will lead toward said gaping, and definitely no less. You are to take the role of dominant, while she takes the role of submissive. Never mind the fact that, per her instructions, you can’t speak, or make any noise, or touch yourself, or use her body to get yourself off, or choose your own state of undress, or touch any part of her not shown in the diagram on the flowchart, or do anything that isn’t explicitly spelled out on the flowchart… But you are required to spank her if she makes any noises. So yeah, you’re totally the dominant one here. (And, to be more specific, you are to keep track of which buttcheek you last spanked so that you can make sure to spread the ass-slapping evenly between cheeks and preserve symmetry, followed by immediate continuation of whatever action you were in the midst of prior to said spank.)

… Yes, that is the last of the exposition. What? You want to have a flashback to when the verbal negotiations were happening? Absolutely not. That’s dialogue, which is technically against the rules. It’s time to do things to Irene’s butthole. Stop stalling.

Once you remove your skirt, slippers, and underwear, you get onto your knees, noting that the floor seems slightly spongy and wondering what that’s about. Irene’s legs are closed. The crevasse of her ass on its own makes you want to scream, but the centerpoint of the cross formed by that crevasse and her thigh crease . There is the slightest gap at that point which reveals the tiniest sneak peak of what hides between. You bite down on your lips to suppress your instinctual lewd moan. Okay, you’re just getting started. Calm down, or this is going to be impossibly difficult.

You straddle Irene’s calves (without touching them!), take a deep and silent breath, and lean forward, placing your palms first on the flawless globes of her ass, then letting your fingers come to rest as well. They’re such a perfect combination of firm, soft, and smooth that it brings tears to your eyes. The inability to comment on them out loud brings you near-physical pain and certainly-mental anguish. If Irene cares, she’s not making it known. She’s deathly silent, and you only know she’s alive because of the way her back rises and falls with her breath.

Contact achieved. Looking at the flowchart isn’t necessary for now. You had a pretty easy time memorizing steps one through five since they don’t have any branching-off points. Step two is to inspect. You look away and take a couple more deep (and silent!) breaths, then increase the pressure of your hands on Irene’s butt and ever so slowly pull apart.

Within the realm of your imagination, you can see yourself comically hyperventilating. In the real world, you see a hole that you could only ever describe as manicured. Not a hair in sight, and some shade of pink so unrealistically perfect that it probably has a Pantone color named after it (Irene’s Butthole Pink? Pick a hex code). The miniscule folds of flesh are already very slightly gaped, giving you a near-imperceptible view into her interior, as if she’d had someone else very recently do what you’re about to, or as if she’d prepared herself with a butt plug. You wonder if Irene even owns a butt plug though, considering she can probably convince any person on the planet to open up her ass any time she would even want to use one. Or maybe she does have one. The Alexander III Commemorative Fabergé egg is still missing, after all…

You pull a little further, and can’t contain your shudder as not only her asshole opens by another couple millimeters, but her pussy lips spread and eventually split apart when the pressure barely overcomes the moisture holding them together. Your eyes and heart flutter, and you think you might faint. The vagina is one of many areas which is not indicated as touchable on the diagram, which hurts your soul because it’s the perfect number of shades darker than the surrounding skin and—

It’s time to focus! Asshole only! Get your mind out of the gutter!

Keeping one hand in place so she stays half-open, you get a handful of one of the massage oils. It feels room temperature, but you're supposed to hold it until it's warmer, so you stare at Irene's back as you try not to let too much drip away. The movement of her breathing is steady and subtle. In. Out. You try to match her pace. In. Out. In. Out.

When it's ready, you let the oil flow off your hand into the cleft of Irene's ass. She doesn't so much as flinch, which you obviously credit more to your excellent reading of body temperature and less to her ass-trance. But back to the butt in hand.

The oil travels leisurely down her crack, speeding up ever so slightly as the path becomes more vertical, and stopping to pool on top of her hole. You place your oily hand on its designated cheek again and repeat the process on the other side.

It’s time to really get started now… with step three-dash-C.

The tips of your thumbs meet just over her hole and press down flatly so that they do not enter her. You slowly shift them around each other and back, massaging with just the right pressure to stay on the rim. The rest of your hands are for massaging the rest of her derriere. It’s not necessary, but you want to show off your manual dexterity, and you want to make sure she’s as relaxed as can—She’s effectively already achieved Nirvana down there, from the looks of things, actually. The relaxation is for you. You’re the one who’s Nirvous about this anal—Is this a joke to you? It’s time for another spread test. You need to make sure Irene’s ready, because maybe somewhere between steps four-dash-E and four-dash-K you’ll forget to off yourself for that pun… Thank fuck you didn’t say that one out loud.

Step four is the first insertion.

Every ounce of fortitude you have is tested. You hold back your shaking. It’s just a finger. It is just a finger, right? You’ve done this plenty of times, to plenty of idols, no less. Well, not a silent butt-fingering, per se, but you’ve been knuckle deep in other idols before, and often more than one idol and often more than one knuckle! Irene just has a gravitas that makes yo—Don’t you dare say she has a gravitass. Stay. Quiet! And keep her ass spread with your free hand.

You watch the carefully trimmed, polished nail of your forefinger leisurely slip into her asshole. Then you pass your first knuckle. You stop on the second and quietly release your held breath. You don’t recall making an analogy about the feeling of her ass cheeks, but you’ll sure as hell compare the interior of her butt to cashmere. The minor gape you’d noticed previously has no effect on how tightly the hole hugs your digit.

Irene’s back rises a centimeter higher, and falls more slowly. Her pattern is broken. You catch your breath again. Did you do something wrong? Is the massage oil adequate? No, it’s only meant to be the starter. This was the whole intention. Right? You glance at the flowchart. Yes, step three, massage oil only, no additional lubrication. You do your best to relax and drag your finger back.

The way her asshole holds on to your finger is its own story of seduction, affair, and dramatic departure. She (her hole is a she) clearly doesn’t want her (so is your finger) to go, but she has to, lest her family shun her. But she cannot resist returning, leaving again despite all the kissing and languid hugging, and returning once more. One last time, she escapes completely, but after telling the story to a saucy friend, introduces Irene’s butt to them, and suddenly the sordid romance becomes a menage a trois.

Two fingers, two knuckles deep in Irene’s ass, you note your own wetness beginning to trail down your inner thigh. You aren’t sure exactly why the thought crosses your mind that you hope that it will somehow evaporate against your ragingly hot and bothered leg.

Now, out, and back in, out, and back in. With your breath. You match Irene’s. Out, and back in.

You gulp. You’re halfway through step four’s substeps. Next is the addition of another finger and more thrusting at a torturously slow pace for an actually timed five minutes. You find yourself hypnotized by it. The five minutes pass by in something more like twelve seconds, and the clock on the wall gently changes color to let you know it’s time to make the final preparations for step five. It’s not magical. It’s just connected by bluetooth to the phone to your left.

But what is magical? You’ve come this far, so you should know by now. It’s Irene’s asshole. You remove two of three fingers, then reinsert one more from the opposite hand, and as cautiously as you can, pull apart. There’s the magic.

Irene’s butt is open, and not just immediately around your fingers, but in a whole oval shape. It’s not enormously wide, but it’s enough that you could reasonably, without discomfort, insert the tip of your tongue.

… Hey. Wouldn’t you know it? That’s step five.

Rimming is always a questionable thing to do to your nose, ranging from the worst to a merely neutral idea. When you draw in close to Irene’s open ass, however, it’s the massage oil that overpowers your trepidatious olfactory sense. You’d noticed earlier that it was labeled as Fresh Linen, a scent that certainly makes sense given Irene’s reputation for laundry-doing, but it triggers a seemingly unrelated and entirely Loony memory of the smell of coffee. How the smells of linen and coffee are linked in your mind, you may never know. Perhaps you should see a professional about that.

But how’s the taste? Well, bland with the slight bitter spike of chemicals that improve viscosity but shouldn’t be ingested in large quantities. The risk of health complications is extremely low though, and you’d risk significantly more for this specific opportunity.

Irene’s butt cheeks and your face cheeks are still separated by your hands, but as of step five-dash-B that will no longer be the case. For now, your lips and tongue are in full contact, and that would be more than enough. To be licking around and inside the asshole of Irene, the rarely disputed queen of idols, you have to be infinitely lucky. You thank heaven you are.

Your focus is drawn in further and further. No more jokes. No more references to other stories. Even the most obvious pun/reference slips from your mind as you try your best to keep your tongue soft for Irene’s pleasure.

Your complete and total compliance doesn’t go unnoticed by Irene, somehow. The tiniest roll of her hips, that barest indication of her appreciation, kicks your core into overdrive. The trail down your thigh widens and it’s all you can do to beg the universe that you won’t drip on her calves.

It takes more strength than you knew you had not to squeal your desperation into her ass. Your thighs and your lungs and your everything else burn with desire. You know it’s not for want of air since your nose is still free, so it has to be your overwhelming need for Irene’s attention. You’d do anything. You are doing anything. A friendly agreement to gape her hole? No, this is a test, a labor, a trial. You’re proving your devotion.

You’re not licking a queen’s ass. 

You’re worshipping a goddess. 

It’s not a flowchart. 

It’s a divine ritual.

The shifting color on the clock only mostly guides you out of your trance. You pull away with a heavy heart, staring half lidded at the strings of saliva still connecting you with what you now live for. There’s no difference in size, but you much prefer the sheen you left on her rim to that of the oil. Step five isn’t over yet.

Do rituals have steps? You try to think back to any hieroglyphics you’ve seen in old textbooks. There were no numbers… Obviously there were no numbers. They were hieroglyphics. You can’t read that shit—

Stop.

You remove your fingers, allowing Irene’s ass to close once more. It happens slowly. You nearly choke, watching her hole return to its previous shape with your breath held so tightly in your chest that it feels like something is going to burst. Hey, maybe it will, but that can’t happen yet. That would be too loud, and your goddess demands silence, so you open your mouth to simply allow the breath to drift out along with any comments you had on the subject.

You close back in once again, this time letting your face settle against Irene’s cheeks and gently nudge them apart, reattaching your tongue to her rim. You want to dive in, to feel her squeeze you, maybe even cum around you, but that’s not part of the ritual. You need to give her rest. The best is yet to cum—no. Come. You give her the lightest rimming you can, holding your tongue back to merely caress her asshole while you silently revel in the light press of her glutes on your cheeks.

Another slight roll of her hips sends you reeling. Your vision fades and Irene is all that’s left. You can see the movement. It’s not just her breath, but her oh-so-gentle rocking back and forth that makes the light and shadows play across her back like the grains of the Elysian fields waving in the breeze. It doesn’t seem right for you to be allowed to experience this, to taste this, to be treated to a view of paradise, to understand the touch of divinity.

The gently shifting color of the clock, magenta to yellow, broadens your vision again. You back away, taking a deep breath that you only now realize you desperately needed.

Without thinking, finally, you do as Irene has commanded. You place your palms on her ass: your altar. You slide your thumbs into her glorious hole, and you pull apart softly. Her muscles have relaxed so thoroughly that you meet no resistance. She is simply open, as if this is just how she was always meant to be, told in myths that cannot be written. Her soft ass doesn’t try to clench down. It remains a portal that entices you, begs you to enter.

And you could. Certainly, as is the case with other gods, Irene could forgive you for showing her your specialty. You, the heroic champion, could show her an unexpected pleasure. Touch her clit, lap at her juices, grind yourself on the back of her thigh. Her instruction indicated that you’re the dominant one here. Make it so.

You hook the first knuckle of each of your pointer fingers, as directed, inside.

No. You can’t get greedy now. You’re not that kind of hero.

Irene opens further around your digits with no effort. Now you see the depth of her abyss, and it does not try to close. Irene wants you to see into her. Even the beautiful spheres of her ass to either side, her graceful back, her soft legs, her captivating hair… It all fades away. You know what the next step is. You don't need the clock to intuit the moment she's ready. Your higher thoughts and your lust blend together.

Slowly, you pull further apart. Not much. It may not seem like it's so small, but this immortal gateway still needs to be treated with reverence. For every millimeter you actually widen her, though, you see miles more. It makes you feel light-headed, even a little dizzy. And when you slide your fingers out, those feelings become far more distinct. Irene remains open.

Gaping may have been an appropriate word for her to have described what she wanted from you, but it was far too crude to represent what you see now. Then again, you’re not sure what else to call it. It’s been a while since the thesaurus failed you.

Irene's muscles are relaxed. Serene, even. Like this is where they should naturally be. You simply guided them.

You lean back in and gently kiss her rim. It's dangerous, running your tongue around the defined edge of the mortal and everlasting, but exhilarating. The slight rolling of her hips is your indication that Irene is feeling the same passion, for all the hubris it takes to assume such a thing about your goddess. As far as you know, she could just be moving because your tongue and lips aren't in the right places and making up for your inadequacies.

Still, every slight, slow shade of her ass against your cheek is a divine caress, urging you further along the journey. Your kisses are as insistent as you can get them without making the grave error of smacking your lips.

In the foggiest reaches of your vision, a hand reaches out to you along the floor. Irene grasps at the air like she wants something. That’s not part of the ritual. You can only think of one thing in the moment, and you take her hand in yours.

Irene’s fingers close around yours and curl into your palm. They flutter every time you swirl your tongue across her rim, and, after a moment, they squeeze.

It’s terrifying, at first, when Irene trembles underneath you. It evokes thoughts of earthquakes, brought upon by the wrath of the gods. But no, it’s orgasm. Her asshole contracts slightly, but otherwise just quivers against your mouth. It ends almost as soon as it begins.

Irene takes her hand away, and a bit of your soul with it. She lightly presses on the clock, and it shifts to white. You don’t have to be reminded of what that means. Steeling your heart, you back off of Irene’s ass and carefully push yourself up to your feet. Even at your full height, you can see into Irene’s hole. Taking it in with the full picture of the rest of her body is an incredible sight to behold. Knowing that you contributed to it makes it even more beautiful.

As you look over her, your eyes go wide and you have to contain a gasp. Irene’s calves are covered in little wet streaks, right where you had been hovering over her. Embarrassment washes over you. It's hard to imagine being so turned on as to not have felt yourself dripping on her, especially after having worried about that very thing mere minutes ago. You want to reach for a towel to correct your mistake, but you know you're not supposed to touch her. You're supposed to be dressing yourself and leaving, so you step away, and reach down for your clothes.

Your arms feel heavy as you pull your underwear up, only getting more embarrassed about how soaked they immediately become.

As you put on your shirt though, Irene moves again. You can't help but stand perfectly still, mesmerized by the smooth motion of Irene getting up onto her knees and sitting back on her heels. Now upright, she's even more statuesque, back curved inward from her generous bottom up to her gentle shoulders. One hand releases her hair from its bun, and the night sky falls past her neck, simultaneously obscuring and enhancing that gorgeous expanse.

Irene’s torso twists a quarter in your direction. It's hard to think that for however long you've been here, this is the first you've seen her face and it's merely a silhouette, not even far enough around that she could look at you out of the corner of her eye. All you can see is her eyelashes, pointed down, to indicate that her eyes are closed. The movement also coyly presents you with the side of her breast, yet another of the endless curves of her body that you have had no opportunity to worship.

One graceful arm comes back. Her fingers find their way to the cleft of her ass and sensually feel their way down. You don't even think to wipe away your drool as you watch those fingers dip inward. They move in and out, unhurried and exquisite.

Your mind reels. Were you not enough? Is she just basking in the remnants of her pleasure? Is she doing this for you to watch? Should you even still be here?

Irene continues to toy lightly with her asshole while at the same time her other hand shakes out her hair from below. 

Your legs twitch. You can't stay here anymore. You practically jump into your skirt, grab your shoes, and you're out the door. You keep the doorknob turned in your hand even as you whip yourself outside so the latch won't click when you close it.

In the hallway, you slump back against the wall. Your body is on fire. You need to be touched. You don’t live very far away. You can get home fast, and if you can’t grab someone on the way, idol or otherwise, you’ll be sitting on a vibrator all night—

The door you just came through opens again. Irene walks out in a shoulderless sweater, just long enough to cover her shorts, and sneakers. How she can look so casual, you’re sure you’ll never comprehend.

She doesn’t turn to leave, though. She steps closer to you, and closer, and closer. The hallway isn’t that wide. Are her steps inches long or is space expanding? Either way, she crosses and stands over you. It doesn’t matter what your height was. Your knees will only hold you against the wall at a height that makes it look like Irene is miles taller.

You open your mouth. You want to ask her to make good on her end of your bargain right now. Or maybe not. It doesn’t really matter. You just want to say something. But before you can, you feel the shock of physical connection. Irene strokes your cheek with the back of her fingers. Her eyes capture yours, holding you steady.

The distance becomes inches, and you’re paralyzed. She doesn’t blink as she gets even closer, but closes her eyes just in time to remove the final gap and touch her lips to yours. She kisses you so softly that you can barely feel it. In fact, the whole of your body seems suddenly light and cloudish, like a breeze could send you away. You even feel a drop of rain leave your eye.

When she retreats, she gives you the coyest smile to ever coy, and as she approaches her full height again, her fingers leave your jawline and the lightness you felt reverses. Gravity crashes your ass into the floor.

Then Irene turns to leave, breaking the line of sight to her eyes, freeing your own to wander. The last thing you see before she turns the corner is that she is not, in fact, wearing shorts under her sweater. You get one last glimpse of your handiwork. Though you can’t see very well and can’t imagine her ass is still gaped now that she’s back on her feet, it is still visibly wet, as are the backs of her thighs and calves.

[darkmaga-retard]

Zang Enterprises founder and CEO Lynette Zang recently warned that the United States is about to enter an era of hyperinflation. She noted that market volatility is inevitable, and that the public will start losing confidence in the U.S. dollar.

"I believe with all my heart and everything that I know that we've already begun the transition to hyperinflation," Zang told Michelle Makori, lead anchor and editor-in-chief of Kitco News. "We're going to see more borrowing, more money printing, more inflation because they have not killed that beast that they created and continue to create. It'll become very obvious in 2025."

According to Zang, the economy seems to be holding up well. But she believes this will be until the Nov. 5 U.S. elections. Thereafter, she projected that the macroenvironment would deteriorate quickly. "What they have in mind for us takes us back to feudal times," she said.

During the interview, which has around 140,000 views on YouTube as of press time, Zang cited Federal Reserve Economic Data charts showing the purchasing power of the consumer dollar in the U.S. city average. She pointed out that even the Federal Reserve indicated that the greenback's value can approach zero. (Related: Citi says apocalyptic hyperinflation is coming, Germany's central bank agrees.)

"If you look on that left-hand index, what's down at the bottom, a big fat zero. And we're not very far from that," she said. "It's critical that there is a zero on that index. So, they know that the currency is going to zero and what happens when we get there."

According to Business Insider, purchasing power is a measure of how many goods or services you can buy with a unit of currency. The currency might be a commodity, such as gold or silver, or a government-issued currency, such as the dollar.

[unohanadaydreams]

Notes: Draft excavation is going well, if you can't tell. Hope you enjoy being a shiny new bunch of pixels for some blorbos.

WOULD THEY PULL FOR YOU IN A GACHA GAME:

Izuru Kira:

Yes. Absolutely. He’s been waiting for you to join the pool since the moment your model leaked. He joined the fanfiction contest to win your merch (and loses). The rush of joy from hearing your voice line when he pulls you brings tears to his eyes and he absolutely ignores how concerning that is.

Akon:

He will and he’ll shamelessy whale. He’s too busy to farm currency and it’s not like he’s strapped for cash. 100% he’s working on a VR model of you as soon as you’re announced. You’re always on the team no matter how useless you are on a given mission or level because he loves a challenge.

Shuhei Hisagi:

He blames the fuck out of Izuru and Akon for getting him addicted to the game—and worse, excited about a bunch of pixels. But he is, so excited. He joins the fanfiction contest for you (and wins). And he sacrifices half a week of lunches to pull you. Your phone charm is proudly displayed. He is wrangled into even more debt to Urahara for the merch conversion.

Rangiku Matsumoto:

She saw Shuhei’s phone charm, thought it was really cute, and loves the idea of a phone game to pass the time during all the time passing she does on the clock. She gets you on her first pull and shows Shuhei. “Look, it’s just like your cute little phone charm!” Her rng luck is so insane that both Shuhei and Izuru have her pull for them (it doesn’t rub off).

Nanao Ise:

Although she very much did not appreciate Rangiku downloading a game on her phone, she did give it a chance. In secret. Facing away from any windows. She doesn’t care much for the gacha aspect, but finds the game play passable. She diligently does her dailies & events and that’s it. It’s alright stress relief. You go unpulled.

Shunsui Kyoraku:

Shunsui easily finds his way into Nanao’s phone and discovers your game sitting right next to a shogi app. He downloads it and is delighted by all the characters! He doesn’t understand how to play but skids through the tutorial. He pulls for you, fails, and doesn’t understand how to pay for currency. He does take a screenshot of you and ask Nanao ‘Let me borrow them from you!’ He barely escapes alive.

Harribel Tier:

Shunsui flaunts your game around in their monthly Peace meeting and she demands an upgraded soul phone. Much like Shunsui, she doesn’t understand the game. But she wants to pull for you. Her three adjuchas bicker endlessly over small print until they figure out how to pull and the most effective way to pull in consideration to chance percentages. She treats you like a tamagotchi (that needs no care and doesn’t die).

[scotianostra]

The Bank of Scotland was founded by an Act of the Scottish Parliament on 17 July 1695.

This was Scotland's first and oldest bank and one of the first in the British Isles, in Scotland it is generally called The Bank, as opposed to the other on The Royal Bank of Scotland, which is The Royal Bank.

The original 172 shareholders came mainly from Scotland's political and merchant elite. They required a banking system which would offer long-term credit and security for merchants and landowners alike.The following year the Bank of Scotland became the first bank in Europe to successfully issue paper currency.

Although the concept of currency and bank notes wasn’t necessarily new to Scotland in the 17th century, the Bank of Scotland was the first to print its own paper currency.

The Bank's right to issue notes has been maintained to the present day. Now you may have heard that Sweden was the first country to issue banknotes but I did say "Successfully" as Johan Palmstruch, the man in charge of the Bank of Stockholm issued the first banknotes on Europe but he issued far too many and they did not have enough gold and silver tucked away to redeem them on demand and the bank collapsed. He was tried and sentenced to death or exile but was sent to prison instead and died soon after, in 1671.

The Bank of Scotland merged with Halifax Bank to become HBOS in 2001.

The first pic shows the ealiest surviving note, from 1716. Their simple design meant they were relatively easy to copy, and forgery was a persistent problem. The banknote is expressed in 'pounds Scots' rather than sterling. Although Scotland's separate currency was abolished by the Act of Union in 1707, it was still used as an expression of money for many years afterwards (£12 Scots = £1 sterling). Bank of Scotland still issues banknotes today, making it the longest continuous banknote issue in the world.