#fractional-reserve banking

[copalcetic]

Every now and then, I remember that the grand, horrifying conspiracy that Clovis and Padme uncover is that the Banking Clan is practicing fractional reserve banking, and I start rubbing my temples all over again.

[officialurban]

Bankers Admit They Print Fake Money & People Believe It

[kc22invesmentsblog]

Fractional Reserve Banking: Unveiling the Money Creation Process

Written by Delvin Fractional Reserve Banking is a concept that lies at the heart of modern banking systems worldwide. It is a practice where banks are legally permitted to keep only a fraction of the deposits they receive as reserves, while lending out the rest. This seemingly intriguing system has far-reaching implications for the economy, money supply, and financial stability. In this blog…

[daemonbrain]

a/n: Shamelessly inspired by the fact I hit a curb, ran a stop sign, and almost hit a mailbox within 5 minutes of each other. So I present to you Graves x reader who can't drive! Feel free to drop a comment 🫶

Phillip Graves who loves exactly three things: His shadows, his truck, and his girl.

The downside? He has to keep the three things as far from each other as possible.

He would be damned if he let his pretty girlfriend know about all the questionable things he did for work. All you needed to know was he handled things, brought home the bread, and came crawling right on back as soon as he could.

But as he sat in the passenger seat of his F-150, he knew damn well he'd tell you every shady dealing or national secret him and his shadows have ever learnt to get you the hell away from the wheel.

He thought it was a joke when you hopped into the drivers seat! You had booked a reservation for some sushi place you liked and he had taken a little too long to get ready, only hurrying down when he heard the yell of his name.

"I'm comin', i'm going!" He mumbled.

You stood ready by the door with a smile. You dangled his keys in front of your face and to be entirely honest Phill didn't pay attention to a word you said.

How could he? Your hair all done up, a nice pair of heels, and a dress he's never seen before but is sure that it's somewhere on his bank statement. Too much time staring at your moving mouth, not enough time on it.

Interrupting you mid-sentance, he pulls you in for a gentle kiss. When your hands went to caress the stubble on his cheek, he responded with a groan and a bite on your lower lip, feeling his heart beat with fondness for the lovely lady in front of him.

Pulling away only a fraction, you look up at him with those eyes he could never resist.

"Is that a yes then?" You said, excitement clear in your tone.

Leaning back in, he presses his mouth to yours again. After a moment he digs his fingers to your waist, causing you to swat at his arm.

"Earth to Phill?! Yes or no?" You repeated. Groaning, he rolled his eyes and reluctantly separated from your body.

"Whatever you want sweetheart."

Which is how he finds himself in this precarious position. It was no ones fault but his own and now he was gonna pay big time. You had hopped right into the drivers seat leaving your dumbfounded partner to connect the dots on his own.

He should have objected thinking back, he really really should have. Commander Phillip Graves who has been around the globe, shot at, and knocked around more times than he can count did not want to deal with the fallback of wrangling you out of there.

When you reached your hand out to switch the gear, instead of holding the break like you should've, the loud sound of the engine revving blasted in his ears as you pressed the accelerator. You jolted in your seat, instinctually grabbing his forearm.

"Baby! You hit the gas."

Upon seeing his widened eyes, you couldn't help but chuckle. Laughing it off, you apologize and start up the truck.

At least that incident was stationary. It got so much worse.

"Shit, that was a trashcan."

"Phill turn up the music. That ambulance siren is distracting me."

"Did I just roll that stop sign?"

He was gonna die in this metal box. The two things he loved most were going to kill him. Phillip Graves death by bomb? No, Phillip Graves death by his wonderful girlfriends horrible driving.

In fact, he'd probably have a better chance if he had been in that tank than with you.

"Hon you're uh- this is a 35 zone and you're goin' 58."

You made a pfft sound and waved him off. Gosh he really wished you kept both of your hands tight on that wheel at this speed (at any speed really).

"Those things are like suggestions. This could totally be like a 45." You said.

"You'd still be- oomph!" Phillip was interrupted by his body being jerked against his seatbelt. Without a moments delay, his arm shot across your chest to keep you firmly pressed to the back of the seat.

Without a second of acknowledgment you slap the steering wheel with a scoff.

"Come on, that was bullshit! Hardly enough time to stop." You complained while staring at the shine of the red traffic light.

"Well maybe if you-"

Nope. Not gonna do that. He didn't even have a chance to raise his voice a note higher before you were glowering his way. No thank you ma'am.

"Nothin'. You're right. Bullshit."

He would hide the keys away from you from now on. He'd dig through your purse when you went to the washroom and snatch them up before you'd even have the chance to ask to drive home.

If Phill was gonna die any other way than old age amongst the horde of kids and grand-babies y'all would have together one day, it was not gonna be because you flung him into a fuckin' electrical pole.

Suddenly, the truck began to move faster...

and faster...

The moment he heard your squeal, his heart dropped to his stomach.

"Phill! Phill my heel is stuck-" The panic in your voice was palpable, the sight of cars in the distance coming closer in view by the second. Tears had begun to gather at your lash line in alarm.

With the reflexes as a man with his own PMC, his unclicks his seatbelt and practically flings himself over the console. Grabbing your foot, he jiggles it from the wedge it trapped itself and pushed on to the break you had made no attempt to use.

Another hard stop, but one made just in time before any collision could take place. Snapping out of your stupor, you allow the truck to slowly roll for a moment while a red faced Phillip looked at you with fury that knew no bounds.

"Pull over."

With a grimace, you attempted to reply. Only to have Phill grab the wheel and fully turn you to the side of the road, signaling and all.

Clicking on the emergency lights as he opens, exits, and closes his door while you still reeled from your miiiiinor incident.

Opening your door, his stern expression warranted no argument as he held a hand out to help you down.

"Out right now. No buts or nothin'."

Hastily complying, you slip your palm into his and scampered to the passenger seat.

After you buckled your seatbelt in and Phill had time to huff and rejoin the road, he uses his free hand to grab on to yours and press a tender kiss to your knuckles while keeping his blue eyes stubbornly fixed forward.

…

Safe to say you let him play his own music this time.

[reality-detective]

Riccardo Bosi - Banking Scam 💰 Fractional Reserve Banking... 🤔

[raspberryslxt]

UNEXPECTED TURNS - PART 2

TVD X OBX FANFICTION

jj maybank x gilbert!reader x rafe cameron

-

The Outer Banks had its own rhythm, one that y/n was still trying to settle into. The days stretched endlessly under the blazing sun, while the nights buzzed with laughter, music, and a quiet kind of chaos she didn’t yet understand. It was a far cry from Mystic Falls, where life had been defined by routine and familiarity. Here, everything felt unsteady, like the sand beneath her feet during high tide—beautiful, but constantly shifting.

When she first arrived at the Camerons’ estate, she hadn’t been sure what to expect. The sprawling house sat on a pristine patch of beachfront property, every inch of it radiating the kind of wealth and polish she’d never been comfortable around. The Camerons themselves weren’t much different. Ward was polite, almost overly so, always eager to remind her of how close he’d been to her father. Rose was distant, her warmth reserved for appearances.

Sarah had been a saving grace, her easy smiles and spontaneous energy pulling y/n out of her shell. But even with Sarah, there was a part of y/n that felt like a visitor, someone who didn’t quite belong in this world of yachts, garden parties, and trust funds.

And then there was Rafe.

From the moment she’d arrived, Rafe had been an enigma. He could switch from charming to cutting in the blink of an eye, his words often laced with sarcasm or subtle barbs. But there were moments, fleeting as they were, when y/n thought she saw something deeper—a vulnerability he kept buried under layers of bravado.

She’d been at the Camerons’ for a couple of weeks now, and though she’d adjusted to the routines of their household, she still found herself feeling like an outsider. The loss of her parents hung over her like a shadow, and while she appreciated Ward’s generosity, it was hard to shake the feeling that she was simply another obligation for him to manage.

It didn’t help that Rafe seemed determined to remind her of how out of place she was.

-

The day began like any other, with the sun streaming through her window far earlier than she would’ve liked. Y/n rolled over, groaning as she reached for her phone. A quick glance at the time told her she was already behind schedule.

Throwing on a casual sundress, she made her way downstairs, the smell of coffee pulling her toward the kitchen.

Rafe was there, leaning casually against the counter with his usual air of confidence. His tousled hair and the way his T-shirt clung to his chest made him look annoyingly effortless, as if he hadn’t just rolled out of bed.

Y/n hesitated for a fraction of a second before stepping into the room. She wasn’t in the mood for another one of Rafe’s lectures, but retreating wasn’t her style either.

“Morning,” Rafe said, his voice low and smooth. He didn’t look up from his coffee at first, but when he did, his gaze lingered a moment longer than necessary.

“Morning,” y/n replied, heading to the fridge to grab some juice.

She felt his eyes on her as she poured herself a glass, the silence between them stretching just long enough to make her heart skip.

“So,” Rafe said, breaking the quiet. “What’s on the agenda for today? Off to hang out with your little Pogue friends again?”

Y/n rolled her eyes, but there was a faint smile tugging at her lips. “Not that it’s any of your business, but yeah, I am.”

Rafe smirked, setting his coffee mug down. “Figures. You’re getting pretty comfortable with them, huh?”

“Why do you care?” y/n shot back, turning to face him.

Rafe shrugged, his smirk softening into something unreadable. “I don’t. Just don’t want to see you get in over your head, that’s all.”

His tone was casual, but there was an edge to his words, as if he wasn’t telling her the whole story.

“I can handle myself, Rafe,” y/n said, meeting his gaze.

“I’m sure you can,” Rafe replied, stepping closer. He was only a few feet away now, close enough that y/n could see the faint stubble on his jaw and the way his blue eyes softened ever so slightly when they locked onto hers.

For a moment, the air between them shifted. The tension wasn’t just combative anymore—it was something heavier, something that made y/n’s breath catch in her throat.

“You don’t get it,” Rafe said, his voice quieter now. “They’re not like us. They’ll drag you down, y/n. And when they do…”

“Let me guess,” y/n interrupted, trying to break the spell. “You’ll be there to say, ‘I told you so?’”

Rafe’s smirk returned, but this time it was faint, almost reluctant. “Maybe.”

Y/n shook her head, brushing past him to set her glass in the sink. As she did, Rafe leaned against the counter behind her, his proximity sending a jolt of awareness through her.

“Just be careful,” he murmured.

Y/n turned, meeting his gaze once more. “Why do I get the feeling you’re more worried about me being with them than them being with me?”

For the first time, Rafe didn’t have a quick comeback. Instead, his eyes flickered down to her lips for the briefest of moments before he stepped back, grabbing his phone and coffee.

“Do whatever you want,” he said, his voice back to its usual sharpness. “Just don’t say I didn’t warn you.”

And with that, he was gone, leaving y/n standing alone in the kitchen, her heart pounding harder than she wanted to admit.

-

By the time y/n arrived at the Chateau, the tension from her argument with Rafe had mostly faded, but the lingering frustration still sat heavy in her chest. Her steps quickened as the wooden porch of John B’s weathered home came into view. The Pogues’ unofficial headquarters looked like it had seen better days, with its peeling paint and mismatched furniture scattered haphazardly around the yard. But to y/n, it was perfect—a stark contrast to the pristine, soulless beauty of the Cameron household.

Laughter rang out from the porch, instantly lifting her mood. John B was hunched over a map spread out on the floorboards, Pope sat beside him taking notes, and Kiara was reclining on an old beach chair, tossing a tennis ball to J.J., who was half-heartedly attempting to catch it with a lacrosse stick.

“Look who decided to show up!” J.J. called out, grinning as he finally swatted the ball back at Kiara—missing entirely and sending it rolling toward y/n instead.

She bent to pick it up, tossing it back to him with a raised brow. “Not exactly pro material, huh?”

“Hey, I don’t have to be good,” J.J. replied, spinning the lacrosse stick dramatically. “I just have to look good doing it.”

“That’s debatable,” Kiara muttered, earning a laugh from y/n.

“Y/n!” John B said, standing up and waving her over. “Get over here. We’re making history.”

“Again?” y/n teased, climbing onto the porch.

“Always,” Pope said without looking up from his notebook.

She set down the bag of snacks she’d brought, watching as the group poured over their latest obsession: a lead on the Royal Merchant. John B explained the details with a mixture of excitement and determination, pointing to a faded map and the old compass they’d recently found.

“Okay, I need context,” y/n said, sitting cross-legged beside John B. “Why is this shipwreck such a big deal?”

“It’s not just any shipwreck,” Pope said, straightening up. “It’s the shipwreck. The Royal Merchant went down in the 1800s with $400 million in gold.”

“And we think we’re getting closer to finding it,” John B added, his eyes gleaming.

“Closer-ish,” Kiara corrected, earning a snort from J.J.

Y/n leaned over to examine the compass, her fingers brushing against its worn surface. “So, you’re saying we could be sitting on top of a literal fortune?”

“Exactly,” Pope said.

“But it’s not about the money,” John B interjected, his tone more serious now. “At least, not just the money. My dad dedicated his life to finding this, and if we can figure it out…”

“It’s about more than gold,” Kiara finished softly, giving y/n a small smile.

The weight of their words wasn’t lost on y/n. For all their jokes and carefree attitudes, the Pogues carried their own burdens—ones that tied them together in a way she envied.

“So,” J.J. said, breaking the momentary silence. He leaned forward, resting his elbows on his knees as he grinned at her. “What about you, newbie? You ready to risk life and limb for a little adventure?”

Y/n laughed, meeting his gaze. “Depends. Do I get a cool nickname like you guys?”

J.J. smirked. “Only if you survive the initiation.”

“What’s the initiation?”

“Marsh wading, treetop diving, and avoiding death by Kook,” J.J. said dramatically.

“She’s already avoiding death by Kook,” Kiara pointed out, nudging y/n with her foot.

“She’s practically one of us,” Pope agreed.

Y/n felt a warmth spread through her chest at their easy acceptance of her. Even though she’d only known them for a short time, she felt more like herself around the Pogues than she ever had at the Cameron estate.

“Alright, I’m in,” y/n said, standing up. “What’s next?”

-

The group piled into the Twinkie—John B’s rusted van that seemed to run on sheer willpower—and headed toward the marsh. John B drove, Pope navigated, and Kiara provided snacks while J.J. insisted on hanging out of the window like an overexcited dog.

“You’re gonna fall out,” y/n warned, pulling on his shirt to keep him steady.

“Not with you holding me, princess,” J.J. teased, flashing her a grin.

“Don’t call me princess,” y/n said, though she couldn’t help the smile tugging at her lips.

The marsh was as messy and chaotic as expected. They waded through knee-deep mud, following a trail John B swore was important to their search. Pope and Kiara argued over whether they were going in the right direction, while J.J. took every opportunity to splash y/n with water.

“Seriously?” y/n said, shoving him playfully as he laughed.

“You’ve got mud on your face anyway,” J.J. pointed out.

“So do you,” y/n shot back, smearing a streak of mud across his cheek.

J.J. froze, his grin widening. “Oh, it’s on now.”

The ensuing mud war left all of them drenched and filthy, but it also left y/n feeling lighter than she had in weeks. By the time they returned to the Chateau, she couldn’t remember the last time she’d laughed that much.

-

Later that evening, y/n found herself at a bonfire on the beach—a Kook party Sarah had dragged her to. The music was loud, the air heavy with smoke and salt, and the crowd was an overwhelming mix of Kooks and a few brave Pogues who’d dared to crash the event.

Y/n wasn’t sure where she fit in this scene. She stuck close to Sarah at first, but her mind kept drifting to the Pogues. She scanned the crowd, half-hoping to see them and half-worrying about what Rafe would say if they showed up.

Then she spotted them—J.J., John B, Kiara, and Pope standing near the edge of the firelight. J.J. caught her eye first, raising a hand in greeting.

“Hey!” he called, grinning.

Y/n hesitated, glancing at Sarah.

“Go,” Sarah said, nudging her. “You obviously want to.”

Y/n didn’t need more encouragement. She made her way over, her heart racing a little as J.J. handed her a drink.

“Miss us already?” he teased.

“Maybe a little,” y/n admitted.

The group settled into their usual rhythm, their jokes and energy making the party feel less suffocating. At one point, J.J. leaned close, his voice low enough that only y/n could hear.

“Bet you’re regretting that Kook life now, huh?”

“Not at all,” y/n said, smirking. “I get the best of both worlds this way.”

J.J.’s grin widened. “Smart girl.”

For the rest of the night, y/n let herself get lost in the chaos and camaraderie of the Pogues. It didn’t matter that the lines between Kook and Pogue were supposed to be rigid. Here, with them, she felt free.

This expanded section emphasizes y/n’s growing connection with the Pogues, her playful chemistry with J.J., and the sense of belonging they bring her. It also highlights the contrasts between her life with the Pogues and the Kook world she’s trying to navigate.

-

Later that night, after the bonfire had dwindled to glowing embers and the party began to dissolve into scattered laughter and hushed whispers, y/n walked along the shoreline, her sandals dangling from her fingers. The cool sand squished under her toes, the rhythmic crash of waves offering a moment of calm after the chaotic energy of the day.

Her phone buzzed in her pocket, breaking the silence. Pulling it out, her heart skipped when she saw Elena’s name flash on the screen.

“Elena?” y/n said, sliding her thumb across the screen to answer.

“Hey,” Elena’s voice came through, familiar but tinged with an exhaustion y/n could hear even over the crackle of the connection.

Y/n smiled despite herself, her chest tightening at the sound. “It’s been a while since you called. Everything okay?”

“Yeah,” Elena replied quickly, too quickly. “It’s just been… busy.”

Y/n stopped walking, her toes digging into the sand as she frowned. “Busy how? Elena, what’s going on?”

There was a long pause on the other end, punctuated by the faint hum of static. When Elena finally spoke, her voice was softer. “It’s just… a lot. With school, with life. And…” She hesitated, then let out a laugh that sounded forced. “I think I might be seeing someone.”

Y/n blinked, the admission catching her off guard. “Oh, really?” she asked, her tone teasing but curious. “And you’re only telling me now? Who is he?”

“His name’s Stefan,” Elena said, and though her voice warmed slightly, there was an undercurrent of something else—something y/n couldn’t quite place.

“Stefan…” y/n repeated, testing the name on her tongue. “What’s he like?”

Elena hesitated again, a pause so slight that anyone else might have missed it. But y/n knew her sister too well.

“He’s… great,” Elena said finally. “Really sweet. A little mysterious, but in a good way, you know?”

Y/n raised an eyebrow, her suspicion growing. “Elena, you’ve never been one for mysterious guys. What’s the deal?”

“There’s no deal,” Elena said quickly, but her laugh sounded nervous. “I just… I like him. He makes me feel… safe. And seen.”

Y/n softened at that. “Well, that’s good, right? You deserve someone like that after everything.”

“I guess,” Elena said, though her tone didn’t sound entirely convinced.

Y/n frowned, kicking at the sand as she resumed her walk. “You’re holding something back. I can feel it.”

There was another pause, this one longer. When Elena spoke again, her voice was lower, almost hesitant. “Things have just been… weird lately. In Mystic Falls, I mean.”

“Weird how?”

“Just… weird,” Elena said, her words rushed. “I can’t explain it. It’s like there’s this… undercurrent of something happening, but I don’t know what.”

“Elena,” y/n said firmly, stopping again and staring out at the dark ocean. “What’s going on? Is someone bothering you? Do I need to come back?”

“No!” Elena’s reply was immediate, almost panicked. “No, y/n, you don’t need to come back. I’m fine. It’s nothing like that, I promise.”

Y/n narrowed her eyes, her fingers tightening around her phone. “You’re lying to me.”

“I’m not,” Elena insisted, though her voice wavered slightly. “It’s just… hard to explain. But I’m okay, really.”

Y/n didn’t believe her, but she also knew Elena well enough to recognize when she was shutting down. Pressing would only make her retreat further.

“Okay,” y/n said finally, her tone softening. “But if something’s wrong, you’ll tell me, right?”

“Of course,” Elena said, though the words felt hollow.

Y/n sighed, rubbing her forehead. “I miss you, you know. Things here are… different.”

[llamagoddessofficial]

Still got that Horror Mafiafell Sans brainrot

---

It wasn’t the first time Sans had pulled you into his lap, by any stretch of the imagination. The wads of cash he so often put in your pocket to ‘make up’ for the time you spent trapped had been difficult to explain to the bank at first- by now, it had happened so often that the tellers just got a look on their faces when they saw you walk in

They called you by name without looking at any paperwork. They probably thought YOU were in the mafia.

It was common bar knowledge how fond he was of holding you through his meals. Nowadays, Lisa would jokingly 'warn' you when he came through the doors and his mood was visibly stormy... the deeper his glower, the more likely he was to pull you in without warning when you passed his table, those giant claws sealing tight around a body that immediately became tiny in his presence.

So you should've been used to it.

...

... Something was very new about this time. And it wasn't just the lit cigar between his phalanges, different to his usual brand of choice.

Up against his huge chest. Your cheeks were hot, your heart was thumping. His touch was... different. Sat sideways across his lap, he kept you tucked against him with a hand on your thigh. Though on your thigh was a little bit of an understatement- his hand was so huge, he had nearly all of your thigh in his hold. 

The other hand, resting on the table, had the cigar held between the index and middle finger. It felt like an impenetrable barrier between you and the outside world... his gold rings gleaming in the low light.

... Perhaps it was the position of his hand. Holding your thigh gently, but with a possessive hint in the curl of his claws that slightly pressed into your flesh. Big, warm bones, the cold metal of the rings... he was holding you like he owned you.

Either way, you were just staring at his jacket lapel. Finding it very hard to cool down. The smell of smoke and gold was overpowering.

(You’d grown pretty adept at just tuning all table conversations out, for fear of overhearing something dangerous. But today, you couldn’t have concentrated on what was being said to Sans by the other two men at the table, even if you tried to.)

You didn’t know what the meeting he was having was about, and whatever it was, he didn’t seem happy about it. But he wasn't furious in a way that would usually frighten you. His energy was much more... reserved. There was a low scowl written across his face, he looked serious, dark. The crack and his scars cast deep and expressive shadows across his face. You were protected from the entire world, like this.

... Usually, you just felt like a tiny plushie in the arms of a big child who needed comforting. Not this time. And as he brushed his thumb slowly, back and forth across your leg... the prickles ran up your spine.

What's wrong with me? You swallowed. Your heart hadn't slowed down, not one bit, hands balled in your apron. What's going on?

... You heard Sans move, above you. You couldn't help but look up at him- and his big eye moved down to you. He seemed to register your altered state, for the first time, emerging a little from his obvious frustration at the other members of the table.

...

... His expression changed. Something about him shifted, ever-so-slightly.

His grin lifted, sharpened... his sockets fractionally lidded. 

He was smirking at you.

You’d grown accustomed to gleaning as much as possible from Sans’ expressions. It was how you judged his mood, how you saw his grabs coming, how you guessed what he was trying to say with the few words he had available. 

Perhaps you were too good, now. Because when he leered down at you like that, gently squeezing your thigh... you could practically hear his words purring through your mind.

“aren’t you cute~?”

You immediately broke eye contact, staring at your own knees. But it to was too late- you felt heat completely flood your face.

... Sans returned his attention to the other people at the table. But not before he gave your thigh another little stroke with his thumb. As if making sure you absolutely knew he saw that.

...

You faintly recalled hearing that Sans, before his famous injury, was something of a... playboy. If you were completely honest, it had been very hard to picture the Sans you knew successfully wooing someone.

...

You could imagine it, now. Very, very well.

[szhmidty]

Just as a quick intuition check:

Fractional reserve banking is... good, right? At least on the first order effect? Fractional reserve banking basically means the banks have more money to lend out, which lowers the marginal cost (i.e. the interest rate) to borrow money due to increased supply, and bank loans are necessary as catalysts to various forms of economic activity like buying a house, a car, starting a small business, etc etc.

The downside is that the bank isn't liquid and can't give everyone their money back in the event of a bank run, but also bank runs are so rare they don't seem worth designing your bank regulations around. You'd do better to just, like, have all banks pay into what is effectively an insurance fund so that their customers can get bailed out in the event that one bank fails, which I'm pretty sure is effectively what happens, if not in those exact terms.

[collapsedsquid]

Gonna be a big few weeks for "How could they have hidden this from us?" for things that were public knowledge, someone's gotta tell Musk about this scam the government's been keeping top secret called "Fractional Reserve Banking"

[infamous-light]

Captured Part V

Dark! Wandanat x Villain/Mutant! F! Reader

Ch. 1 Ch. 2 Ch. 3 Ch. 4

AO3: Captured

Summary: You and your mutant friends have been in hiding due to the havoc you all wreaked over the past few years. One day, you all decided to make your presence known and rob one of the largest federal reserve banks in the U.S.

Unfortunately, things did not go as planned for you.

Word count: 3.2K

Warnings: Mind manipulation, kidnapping, suggestive themes

You found yourself sinking into the familiar embrace of the couch once more, the weight of the day settling heavily upon your shoulders. Tension coiled in your stomach like a tightly wound spring but the soft cushions beneath you cradled your body, offering some semblance of comfort in the midst of this turmoil.

The movie flickered on the screen, but its sound blended into the background as your mind was elsewhere, replaying snippets of the conversation you overheard between Natasha and Wanda a moment ago. You tried to focus on the movie, but every scene was a blur as your thoughts swirled with uncertainty and fear.

With a deep sigh, you closed your eyes, trying to push away the thoughts that threatened to overwhelm you. You desperately needed a moment of respite, so you decided to focus on regulating your breathing, attempting to calm your nerves. Each inhalation brought a fleeting sense of peace, while each exhale released a fraction of the pent-up tension.

But just as you began to ease your anxiety, the abrupt shuffle of footsteps outside the living room door shattered the fragile bubble of solitude you had constructed. Your ears perked up at the faintest hint of movement, a skill honed through years of evading capture and navigating the shadows. Like a seasoned fugitive, your eyes snapped open with a primal instinct, instantly alert to the slightest threat or opportunity that presented itself.

With practiced ease, you arranged your features into a calm façade, smoothing out any trace of the inner conflict that twisted within.

As Natasha and Wanda entered the living room, their chatter broke through the heavy silence that had enveloped you. Wanda’s gaze landed on you, her eyes alight with a playful twinkle as she greeted you with a light-hearted comment, “Did we miss anything important? Or were we just in time for the best part?”

Natasha chuckled, shaking her head. “Knowing our luck, we probably did.”

You forced a smile, trying to push aside the unease that gnawed at your insides. “No, you're just in time.”

You were sandwiched between Natasha and Wanda a moment later, their presence enveloping you in a stifling heat that made your skin prickle with discomfort.

Natasha leaned against your left side, her familiar scent of jasmine and sandalwood filling your senses. Her arm wrapped around your waist, pulling you closer as she rested her head on your shoulder.

On your right, Wanda snuggled up against you, her touch sending a tingle down your back. Her fingers intertwined with yours, creating an intimate connection that should stir something within you, but it didn’t.

Every instinct in your body screamed at you to escape their proximity, to flee from the looming threat they posed. But you remained frozen, unable to tear yourself away from them.

Every moment felt like an eternity as you wrestled with the urgent need to plan your escape. The longer you stayed here, the more likely they were to notice something was amiss with you. You knew you had to act fast, to devise a plan that would allow you to slip away unnoticed. Every movement had to be calculated, every word carefully chosen to maintain the façade of normalcy.

You surveyed the living room with a veneer of collectedness, your eyes darting discreetly from one corner to another, cataloging every detail. Despite the pressing nature of the situation, you maintained an air of calculated control, aware that any sign of agitation could betray your intentions to Natasha and Wanda.

The lack of a window only heightened your sense of desperation. The stale air seemed to press down on you, suffocating any hope of escape.

Lost in your thoughts, you barely noticed as the movie reached the end credits. Natasha and Wanda shifted on the couch, their movements slow and relaxed as they tried to find a more comfortable position. Wanda spoke up, breaking the silence that had settled over the living room.

“Well, that was a fun movie,” she said, her eyes sparkling with delight as she turned to you and Natasha. “Don't you think?”

You hummed in agreement, giving Wanda a small smile.

Natasha’s gaze flickered toward you, her eyes searching yours for a moment before she reached out to squeeze your left thigh.

“You look tired, honey,” she said quietly. “I think we should go to bed.”

To be honest, you did feel tired. Your eyelids drooped with weariness and every muscle in your body ached with fatigue. You knew that in order to execute your escape plan successfully, you needed to be well-rested and sharp.

“Yeah, I am actually.” You admitted with a faint smile.

As you stood up, Natasha's slender fingers intertwined with yours. The softness of her skin against yours was smooth and warm as she led you toward the bedroom. The gentle pressure against your right arm startled you momentarily and you glanced sideways to see that Wanda's arm had looped with yours.

Wanda smiled at you. Slowly, she leaned in, her delicate scent filling your senses before her lips planted a kiss on your cheek. A flutter of conflicting emotions erupted within you like a storm brewing beneath calm waters. On the one hand, her affection was comforting but on the other hand, it felt inherently wrong.

Each kiss, each embrace, only served as a painful reminder of the truth you were desperately trying to uncover.

For now, you returned Wanda's affection while silently plotting your escape.

***

As you slowly awakened, you found yourself nestled between Natasha and Wanda.

Natasha's arm was currently draped over your waist protectively, her hair spilling across the pillow in a cascade of red locks. Beside you, Wanda lay peacefully asleep. Her face was buried in the crook of your neck, her soft hair tickling your skin with every exhale.

The rhythmic sound of their breathing reached your ears, a soothing lullaby that almost put you back to sleep. But the gentle stirrings of wakefulness nudged you into action, reminding you of what needed to be done.

To escape.

There wasn’t a moment to slip out of bed unnoticed as both Natasha and Wanda stirred almost simultaneously, their eyelids fluttering open in sync. Natasha's gaze met yours first, a glint of mischief dancing in her eyes as she stretched her lithe frame.

“Good morning.” She murmured, her voice husky with sleep as her hand reached out to brush a stray strand of hair from your face.

On the other side, Wanda’s eyelids continued to blink away the remnants of sleep. Her expression softened into a gentle smile as she became fully aware of her surroundings.

Wanda reached out instinctively, her hand finding yours. “Morning, love.”

“Good morning.” You said in a low tone as you began to rise from the bed, but Natasha's hands gripped your shoulders, pushing you back down onto the mattress.

You let out a surprised gasp. Her lips curled into a sly grin as she leaned in, her breath warm against your ear.

“Where do you think you're going?” Natasha purred.

She straddled you in one swift move, allowing her weight to settle onto your hips. Your eyes were immediately drawn to the curve of her breasts, the soft swell inviting your gaze. The thin tank top she wore did very little to conceal their ample size as they strained against the fabric, begging to be set free. Even the faint outline of her nipples teased through the material, a tantalizing hint of the hardened peaks that awaited beneath.

As Natasha leaned in closer, her body pressing against yours, your eyes drifted downward, drawn to the sight of her tiny shorts. The material clung to her hips, riding up to reveal the smooth expanse of her thighs with every movement.

Natasha's gaze was intense, her eyes burning with a primal hunger as she now caged you in, her lips hovering just an inch away from yours.

And then, in a heartbeat, her lips closed the distance. The taste of her lips, sweet and inviting, ignited a fire within you that threatened to consume all rational thought. Her tongue danced with yours, exploring every inch of your mouth with a hunger that matched your own.

But even in the midst of passion, a small voice whispered in the back of your mind, urging you to stop this.

“Natasha-” You attempted to interject between kisses, but she was lost in the heat of the moment, her desire fueling her actions.

Her breath mingled with yours, hot and needy, as she pressed her body against your front, her curves fitting perfectly against your own. You turned your face to the right to break the kiss, but Natasha followed, her lips trailing a path of fiery kisses along your jawline. Your hands reached up to push Natasha's shoulders, attempting to create some distance between you two.

As you struggled to maintain your composure, you heard a soft chuckle from your right side. Glancing over, you saw Wanda resting on one of her elbows, amusement shining behind her eyes as she observed you and Natasha.

She clearly wasn’t going to help you.

“Natasha, please, I need to use the bathroom.” You whined, desperation lacing your voice.

It was the only thing you could think of to pry yourself away from her relentless advances.

Natasha’s gaze darkened with a mix of desire and frustration, but she acquiesced, albeit reluctantly. You could sense her impatience, her hunger for more.

“Alright.” She muttered; her voice was laced with a hint of disappointment as she allowed you to slip out from underneath her grasp.

You picked up some clothes from the dresser and slipped into the bathroom, closing the door behind you. The soft click of the latch echoed in the small space as you let out a breath you didn't realize you were holding.

You stood before the bathroom sink, feeling the weight of the moment pressing down on your shoulders like a heavy burden. Your hands trembled slightly as you reached out to turn on the faucet, the sound of rushing water filling the silence of the bathroom.

As the cool water cascaded into your cupped hands, you couldn’t help but notice how your fingers quivered with nervous energy. You splashed the water onto your face, hoping to calm the racing thoughts and the pounding of your heart but the anxiety gnawed at you relentlessly, refusing to be quelled by a mere splash of water.

The memory of their conversation kept echoing in your mind. They want to fake your death, have you vanished into obscurity.

With trembling hands, you reached for a towel to dry off, the fabric rough against your sensitive skin. You took a moment to compose yourself before getting dressed, slipping into fresh clothes.

Exiting the bathroom, your steps faltered as you were met with the sight of Natasha and Wanda, both clad in various stages of undress. Natasha's curves were accentuated by a lacy black ensemble, while Wanda's slender frame was adorned in sheer red lace that left little to the imagination.

“I'll meet you both in the kitchen.” You managed to choke out, your voice strained with discomfort.

Their gazes locked onto you, Wanda's dark with desire, her eyes smoldering with an intensity that sent a shiver down your spine. Natasha, on the other hand, frowned, a hint of frustration flickering across her features as she watched you.

“We promise we won’t take too long.” Wanda purred, giving you a playful wink.

Heat spread up your neck as you gave her an awkward smile, feeling the weight of Wanda's amused gaze on you. Natasha's reaction was palpable as she shot you a cold glare before following Wanda into the bathroom.

That wasn’t good. You were on Natasha's bad side, and it wasn't a place you wanted to be. All that did was add an extra layer of difficulty to an already precarious situation.

There was no time to waste. You released a long breath, feeling a surge of determination coursing through you.

The past two nights were consumed by Natasha's and Wanda’s presence, leaving little opportunity for you to explore. Now, with them distracted, it was the best possible time for you to start scoping this place out.

Your eyes drifted to the bedroom window, a potential escape route, but you knew better than to rush blindly. Not with them so close to you.

Opening the door, you stepped past the threshold, the cool air of the hallway a stark contrast to the warmth of the bedroom. Goosebumps prickled your skin, and you took a moment to adjust to the change in temperature.

As you ventured further down the hallway, you noticed that it split into two distinct paths. Both hallways stretched out before you, identical in appearance.

After a moment of consideration, you decided to walk down the left hallway first.

With cautious steps, you navigated the dimly lit hallway, your senses on high alert. The walls were devoid of windows, casting the space in shadow, but there was an eerie sense of orderliness to the surroundings. Nothing appeared out of place, no signs of decay or neglect marring the pristine halls.

As you continued onward, the silence was deafening, broken only by the sound of your own footsteps echoing off the walls.

You checked each door along the way, hoping to find an exit or a clue to aid your escape. Each door yielded to your touch without resistance, swinging open to reveal unassuming rooms with no signs of life.

A sinking feeling settled low in the pit of your stomach. There were no windows, no alternate exits – just a series of closed doors that led to a dead end.

Finally, you reached the end of the hallway, your search yielding no answers, no means of escape. You stood there for a moment, staring at the closed door before you, a sense of resignation washing over you. With a heavy sigh, you reached out and grasped the handle, your fingers trembling slightly with apprehension. Every fiber of your being prepared for yet another dead end.

With a slow, deliberate motion, you turned the handle. The door swung open with ease, revealing a storage room.

Entering the room, you're greeted by a clutter of boxes strewn across the floor, each one bursting at the seams with documents and files. Despite the chaotic scene before you, your attention was immediately drawn to the window on the far side of the storage room.

A surge of hope flooded through you at the sight of the window. Closing the door behind you with a soft click, you made your way toward the large aperture.

Reaching the window, you paused, taking a moment to survey the landscape beyond.

You were greeted by the sight of a dense forest stretching out as far as the eye could see. Towering trees loomed overhead, their branches swaying gently in the early morning breeze. The forest floor was carpeted with a thick layer of underbrush, a mosaic of greens and browns interspersed with patches of sunlight filtering through the canopy above.

Birds chirped and flitted among the branches, their songs echoing through the stillness of the forest. In the distance, you could hear the faint rush of a nearby stream, its waters weaving through the heart of the forest like a silver ribbon.

You reached out and touched the pane of the window. A frown creased your brow as you realized the glass was thick, tempered for durability. There was no mechanism to open the window either.

Running your fingers along the smooth surface, you couldn’t help but feel a sense of dread creeping in. You had hoped for a moment of relief, a simple solution to your predicament, but now you realize that breaking through won't be as straightforward as you had initially thought.

It would take a great deal of force and stress to shatter it, far more than you could muster with just your strength alone or with the aid of a tool.

Glancing down at the cuffs that encircled your wrists, you felt a pang of resentment toward the device that nullified your powers. The metallic cuffs seemed to mock you, their cold, unyielding grip a constant reminder of your limitations. But then you remembered Natasha’s and Wanda's warnings. They had spoken of the dangers, of the instability that lurked within your abilities. Yet, you couldn't bring yourself to care.

You knew you were fully capable of obliterating the tempered glass with ease, if not for these restraints.

You withdrew your hand from the window, turning away from the tantalizing glimpse of freedom beyond. Despite the obstacles that stood in your way, you knew that giving up was not an option. You were determined to find a way out of this predicament, to reclaim your agency and uncover the truth.

Your thoughts spiraled further until the familiar sound of Natasha's and Wanda's laughter sounded down the hallway, jolting you back to reality.

Alarm surged through you. Without hesitation, you exited the storage room, pulling the door closed behind you with a muted thud. As you hurried back down the hallway, your heart raced in your chest, their laughter growing louder with each passing second.

Reaching the kitchen, you took a moment to catch your breath, the adrenaline coursing through your veins. You then darted toward the cupboard, your hand reaching out to grab an empty cup.

You turned on your heel and swung open the refrigerator door, the soft hum of the appliance filling the air. Your fingers closed around the chilled bottle of orange juice, pulling it from its resting place.

Pouring the amber liquid into the cup, you watched as it cascaded down in a steady stream. Lifting the cup to your lips, you took a long, slow sip, relishing the citrus flavor that slid down your throat.

Glancing around with a casual air, you needed to give the impression that you had been waiting here all along.

It was at that moment both women entered the kitchen. Natasha and Wanda stood before you, fully dressed and radiant in the morning light.

As Natasha's eyes landed on you – her smile strained – a flicker of irritation flashed in her eyes. Despite her best efforts to mask her disappointment, the tension between you two hung thick in the air, a silent reminder of the rejection you had dealt her.

“Would you like some breakfast?” Natasha’s tone was polite but tinged with an undercurrent of annoyance as she sauntered past you.

“Yes, please.” You replied, keeping your tone neutral.

Your heart pounded in your chest as you struggled to slow it down.

With practiced efficiency, Natasha moved around the kitchen, the clatter of utensils against pots and pans filling the space.

Wanda observed the scene with a small smirk on her face. She seemed unfazed, her eyes flickering between you and Natasha with mild interest.

“I wouldn’t worry about Nat. She’ll get over it.” Wanda teased as she leaned against the kitchen counter.

Natasha scoffed.

You decided not to say anything to that. It’s best to keep quiet for now.

Eventually, you all settled around the kitchen table, the smooth wooden surface adorned with a colorful array of dishes.

You continued to play your part, biding your time until the opportunity presented itself to make your move.

[greenbloods]

everybody's speculating on where hotd will end and youd think that a logical stopping point would be aegon and viserys meeting on the beachhead of kings landing because it perfectly encapsulates the tragedy and futility of the war and how it only leaves behind broken boys but youd be WRONG. manifesting an entire season of lysene spring court politics with my mind i want to see every aspect of the rogare banking crisis in excruciating detail. this is no longer a high fantasy tragedy it's a black comedy court drama where we follow the marvelous misadventures of lysandro and drazenko rogare as they discover the magical world of fractional reserve manipulation

[boycottdivestsanctions]

The Money Masters notes history of of fractional-reserve banking, monetary policy, and taxes

[st-just]

Crypto, which to some extent started as a backlash to fractional reserve banking and the shadow banking crisis of 2008, and by last year had matured to the point that it recreated both fractional reserve banking (but without regulation!) and a 2008-style shadow banking crisis.

-Matt Levine

[unpluggedfinancial]

Your Bank Hates You—Here’s Why Bitcoin Doesn’t

Banks have spent centuries perfecting the art of making money off their customers while keeping them financially dependent. They wrap themselves in an image of trust and stability, but the truth is simple: banks exist to extract as much profit as possible from you while giving as little as possible in return. And most people never question it.

Bitcoin, on the other hand, doesn’t need you to trust it. It operates on pure mathematics, transparency, and a fixed supply that no institution can manipulate. It’s time to pull back the curtain on the traditional banking system and understand why Bitcoin flips the script.

The Big Lie: Your Money Isn’t Really Yours

When you deposit money in a bank, you assume it’s still your money. In reality, the moment it enters their system, it becomes theirs. You are nothing more than an unsecured creditor—your money is a liability on their books, and they can use it however they see fit. They lend it out, invest it in risky ventures, and rake in billions in profits, all while giving you a pathetic fraction of a percent in interest.

And if you ever try to withdraw a large sum? Suddenly, the bank wants to ask questions. Where did you get this money? Why do you need it? They may even limit how much you can take out at once. It’s not about security—it’s about control.

The Racket: How Fractional Reserve Banking Works

One of the biggest scams ever legalized is fractional reserve banking. This system allows banks to hold only a small fraction of customer deposits while lending out the rest. In the U.S., banks used to be required to keep about 10% in reserve. Today? That requirement is zero. They can lend out nearly all of your deposited money, creating money out of thin air.

This system fuels inflation, artificially expands credit, and increases systemic risk. And guess who pays the price when it collapses? Not the banks—they get bailed out. You, the customer, are left with devalued savings, rising costs, and financial instability.

Bitcoin doesn’t play that game. There is no fractional reserve system. You own what you hold, and no one can lend it out behind your back.

The Bank Fees & Interest Rate Scam

Banks are masters of the nickel-and-dime game:

Overdraft fees punish you for not having money by taking more of your money.

Loan interest rates skyrocket while banks borrow from the Federal Reserve at near-zero rates.

ATM fees charge you for accessing your own money.

Wire transfer fees? A tax on moving your money, even though the process is mostly automated.

Meanwhile, inflation erodes your savings, and banks laugh all the way to... well, the bank.

Bitcoin? No middlemen. No arbitrary fees. No interest rates designed to squeeze you dry. Just peer-to-peer transactions, secured by a decentralized network.

Enter Bitcoin: Opting Out of the Madness

Bitcoin offers something revolutionary:

A fixed supply of 21 million coins—no central bank can print more.

Self-custody—you hold your own money, no permissions needed.

Instant transactions with minimal fees, no matter where you are in the world.

A global, decentralized network that no government or institution can manipulate.

Unlike banks, Bitcoin doesn’t require you to trust it. You can verify every transaction, every supply issuance, every rule of the system. There are no hidden fees, no fine print, no “policy changes” that suddenly take away your access.

The Transparency Factor: Bitcoin vs. Banks

Banks operate in secrecy. They loan out your deposits, make high-risk bets, and when things go wrong, they change the rules or beg for a bailout. The 2008 financial crisis showed us exactly how fragile and corrupt the system really is.

Bitcoin, on the other hand, runs on a public ledger. Every transaction is verifiable. No insider deals, no backroom manipulations, no hidden schemes. You don’t have to take anyone’s word for it—the system is open-source, and anyone can audit it.

The Takeaway: Banks Need You, But You Don’t Need Banks

The traditional banking system thrives on ignorance. It wants you to remain dependent, obedient, and financially illiterate. But Bitcoin offers a way out.

With Bitcoin, you are your own bank. You decide when and how to access your wealth. You don’t need permission, you don’t need intermediaries, and you certainly don’t need to beg for access to what’s already yours.

Your bank hopes you never wake up to this reality.

Bitcoin is the wake-up call.

Tick tock, next block.

Take Action Towards Financial Independence

If this article has sparked your interest in the transformative potential of Bitcoin, there’s so much more to explore! Dive deeper into the world of financial independence and revolutionize your understanding of money by following my blog and subscribing to my YouTube channel.

🌐 Blog: Unplugged Financial Blog Stay updated with insightful articles, detailed analyses, and practical advice on navigating the evolving financial landscape. Learn about the history of money, the flaws in our current financial systems, and how Bitcoin can offer a path to a more secure and independent financial future.

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👍 Like, subscribe, and hit the notification bell to stay updated with our latest content. Whether you’re a seasoned investor, a curious newcomer, or someone concerned about the future of your financial health, our community is here to support you on your journey to financial independence.

📚 Get the Book: The Day The Earth Stood Still 2.0 For those who want to take an even deeper dive, my book offers a transformative look at the financial revolution we’re living through. The Day The Earth Stood Still 2.0 explores the philosophy, history, and future of money, all while challenging the status quo and inspiring action toward true financial independence.

Support the Cause

If you enjoyed what you read and believe in the mission of spreading awareness about Bitcoin, I would greatly appreciate your support. Every little bit helps keep the content going and allows me to continue educating others about the future of finance.

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[oatmonger]

impossible to think about fractional reserve banking without getting mad