#profit from mistakes

[postersbykeith]

[cerealforkart]

Me over the last couple months: “oh man I hope I didn’t over charge people for my manga people keep saying shipping is too expensive :(“

Me now looking at production costs: “oh I definitely under charged for this thing”

[dimdiamond]

Okokokokokok

You know what REALLY pains me with this AI art business???

Besides the stealing and using the work and skills from artists without credit FOR PROFIT, it's the fact that it is the biggest proof that art is still underestimated in outside of the field people's minds. It is a huge middle finger to a whole science field because YES ART STUDIES IS A THING.

We have practice, theory, studies, researches, media analysis. Art of any form (painting, music, literature etc) is not just a fling, something without basis. It's something we work on it, try to develop and broaden the field with always stating questions, from the simplest one "in how many ways can I depict this tree" to more complicated ones "how can I use my knowledge in my artwork so it can have some reasoning in our age?"

An artist (especially in our era) MUST step on other fields, learn from them and WORK with them to develop an artwork. Have you any idea how many artists are simply technicians? How many are mathematicians, programmers, philosophers, teachers and so on? Do you have any idea how perplexed and fascinating is art field in our century?

AND YET these dudes undermine us, don't even bother to ask us and instead use this tool, THIS FASCINATING TOOL, to show us the middle finger and steal money!

So many artists even years ago (for example Paik, Viola and many others) used new media and new technological achievements to make artworks and now history has proven already their worth despite the criticism. Who tech bro from 90s would expect that artists would use internet to make art and yet it happened and with the start of world wide web came the internet art (different from digital art mind you).

They should have let the tool to artists themselves, to the experts of the field instead of pretending to be "artists" too! Let an artist use ai and be sure they will make something definitely better than whatever this mockery is! Something that matters for our field!

It's not as ridiculous as me using a calculator and saying "I'm a mathematician!" because I wouldn't profit from my calculations.

[unproduciblesmackdown]

fr if taylor and philip don't kiss then what's this all been about. (the entire series of billions) what is it all for

[jackmischief]

Where’s that meme with the buff Shiba Inu and the wimpy one and the buff one is Steve mentoring Wanda and the wimp is Tony mentoring Peter??? That shit’s the best

[jeanmoreaux]

Hi!!! Sorry for this question, I haven’t read SoC in a while™️ and I wanted to ask what makes Kaz and Wylan kind of similar in your POV? Cz I remember him looking up to Kaz in some sort of way but not that they were specifically alike 😂 pls help this aging fan, I’m just curious!

oh, i'm happy to share some of my thought on what i mentioned in this post about regarding wylan as somewhat of an alter to kaz! i'd love to give you some exact quotes and page numbers, but i sadly don't have the time to go back to the text and search for all the details. consequently, my claims will be rather broad and you might have to make up your own mind, on a re-read, if you (dis-)agree with my thoughts on the matter.

first, it's important to mention that, for me, wylan embodies many of the qualities of who we assume kaz rietveld was. he's honest, earnest, a little sheltered, has a firm moral compass and generally believes in kindness/goodness. he's then—quite violently—thrust into this new life, left all alone with no one to lean on. interestingly, both their "rebirths" are closely related to water (there is sure something to be said about the symbolism of water as something cleansing and its important role in baptisms.... also the implications of almost drowning but ultimately making it to shore. it's like a shared metaphor.)

They both then cleverly adopt personas to survive ketterdam's streets and distance themselves from their pasts. and here is were a lot of differences in their circumstance and environment come in. kaz's only option is to "toughen up" and turn into "the bastard of the barrel" & dirtyhands. wylan, on the other hand, continually makes himself out to be this naive ingénue in the criminal world (even way past beyond the point that's true) to fly under the radar. the thing is, since wylan falls in with the crows and has people like kaz around to do the "morally dirty" work, he gets to hold on to many of his qualities that kaz had to lay down to survive. kaz didn't have someone to do that for him.

((wylan occasionally makes some offhand remarks that hint a potential for violence, or at least an awareness of necessary violence, but he's never actually forced to act violently to save or protect others. there's not really a reason for him to suppress his empathy completely. it's clear, though, that if push came to shove he could stomach what the situation throws at him and deal with it. he's not a delicate flower, but compared to kaz he's lucky enough that he doesn't have to repress his natural tendency for kindness.))

Both characters are also intelligent and curious (they need so understand how things work) and they use that as a way to work around their individual weaknesses (kaz's issues with mobility & wylans dyslexia). for both of them, their intelligence is probably their greatest asset. they also both like a puzzle (mainly because they enjoy the process of solving it). generally i'd say their minds work much alike, which we see especially during the planning and execution of the plan to steal jan van eck's seal or when wylan deciphers kaz's cryptic infos that lead him to his mom—it's just that wylan usually doesn't use his faculties for crime. this also this is also somewhat hinted at by inej (and jesper) in ck when they're hatching out some plan and she goes like "wait, wylan, is that a scheming face?!" which is very much an expression for a look that has only ever been brought up in connection with kaz before that point. an interesting detail, that doesn't have to mean anything but is worth mentioning, is the fact that kaz often trusts wylan with more details than the other crows. whether that be to receive some input or just have a second person look for holes in his plan or out of necessity or some other reason is not always clear, but it definitely means that kaz values wylan's talents and mental faculties.

oh, and ofc wylan is probably just as cunning as kaz when he wants to be. they both can read people motives and intentions pretty well while being skilled in concealing their own (think: kaz in almost every situation ever, also think: wylan's kuwei stunt in soc or his spiel towards the end of ck). wylan's various tricks he uses to divert attention form his dyslexia fall in this cunning behaviour as well, i'd say. like, he knows exactly how to hide that he can't read but at the same time get people to help him without them even noticing (pretending he's too new to an area to understand written direction or claiming he can't read someone's handwriting, not knowing sufficient fjerdan to complete the writing on the map, etc.). if i remember correctly not even kaz figures it out, wylan has to tell him about it.

[iconarmyhellyeah]

How much do you wanna bet Ariel Bloomer (Icon For Hire's lead singer) is a closeted bigot who just pretends to like LGBT people because she'll get more money that way?

omg Anon you're sooooo big brained (please note the sarcasm)

Also find it hilarious that you felt you had to clarify to me, of all people, who Ariel is.

For real though? I do get the urge to react with wariness about if a creator is actually supportive or just chasing profit, you wanna know why I don't think IFH is just chasing profit? Here we go:

First off, this is from the official merch website, it's the description for the #IconArmy pride shirt. Note that last sentence, that's what's important here

If Icon was trying to just profit off us they wouldn't, ya know, give a portion of that profit to The Trevor Project (especially if they were also homophobic).

Secondly, I want you to know that Icon is in a completely different situation to a band on a label. Without a label they live and die off their fans.

Now, taking that into consideration, wouldn't it make more sense to not take a hard stance one way or another (something some labels will demand of their bands) so as to appeal to the widest possible audience?

[djungleskogs]

you can’t advocate for putting “more humans” back on checkouts and then get unreasonably mad about those humans making mistakes every so often. i promise no cashier is intentionally overcharging you. we don’t get paid any extra. sometimes we make mistakes. sometimes we are on the registers for hours on end and are tired and our packing and scanning isn’t going to be perfect. we will refund you if you’ve been overcharged. it’s all going to be fine. you can’t ask for more humans on registers and get mad at them for not being machines.

[catdemontraphouse]

N…no fucking way….

I am concerned

[techmarkethunter]

Mastering the Art of Trading: Overcoming Greed and Impatience

Title: Mastering the Art of Trading: Overcoming Greed and Impatience Introduction:In the fast-paced and dynamic world of financial markets, successful trading is not just about analyzing charts and interpreting data; it’s equally about mastering the psychological aspects that can make or break a trader’s success. Two formidable foes that every trader must conquer are greed and impatience. In…

[mellowwillowy]

𝐒𝐮𝐠𝐚𝐫 𝐃𝐚𝐝𝐝𝐲 𝐭𝐮𝐫𝐧𝐞𝐝 𝐇𝐮𝐬𝐛𝐚𝐧𝐝

Yan! Sugar Daddy who fell in love with you at first sight in the cafe he often visited for his daily to-go coffee. He had seen lots of beauties but you were the first to catch his breath.

Yan! Sugar Daddy who tried to woo you, he tried his best to not scare you and subtly flirt with you. It took him a huge courage to approach you and ask for your number.

Yan! Sugar Daddy who found out you were still just a college student who was most likely to be struggling with financial issues, or so he assumed from how most of the students there were.

Yan! Sugar Daddy who took his time bonding with you before subtly offering an arrangement with you, a mutual arrangement of a sugar relationship. Instead of sex, fancy dates, or a plus one to those higher-ups events, he wanted your company all the time if he could.

You were wary and hesitant but his silver-tongued nature convinced you that this would change your life for the better.

While you were inexperienced in most of it, Yulian made sure to make you feel comfortable about it and him. The weekly allowance and PPM were enough to make you never lift a single finger to work anymore.

The more you spent time with him, the less it felt like an arrangement. It felt like a man treating you with utmost respect while spoiling you with luxuries you would never imagine to have.

But with such great benefits came a great price. You noticed that you had been seeing your friends less because of the attention you had on him.

You noticed the higher-ups never stopped sneering at you for being a commoner or his pet whenever you attended the fancy events with him as his plus one.

You noticed how you had almost less to none freedom, always heavily guarded by what seemed to be his bodyguards. Who was he and why did you even need this sort of protection?

One day you decided to trick his bodyguards with your flat-out white lies so that they'd leave you alone. They did not expect someone like you to ever lie and put them at risk so they left you alone.

All you did was wander around in awe, checking the grand balcony to go to the washroom as normal people would.

Yan! Sugar Daddy who was seething in rage when the bodyguards came to him, tricked by your childish lie. But there was no way something bad would happen with this slight mistake right? You were not his spouse by any means.

But oh did everyone know you were someone he fancied for the first time in his whole life. Part of his brain just tried to look at this mistake in a bright light and it backfired.

Yan! Sugar Daddy who had to be endlessly teased by his great-for-nothing cartel friend. He had to endure the stress of losing you and the risk of not being able to take you back.

It's not like the Drug Lord couldn't help him, it was simply humiliating for him to endanger you by not keeping a close eye on you.

Yan! Sugar Daddy who could track you down in less than a week and ordered a mass slaughter on the faction that imprisoned you. You were not wounded terribly but a wound was still a wound.

Yan! Sugar Daddy was just a confidant to the Drug Lord and an infamous lawyer. You only knew he was a lawyer but never the lurking threat of his other occupation. No wonder he was always wary of his surroundings.

How could someone from such a cold underground world have the heart to fall in love with you? That was what you thought when you woke up to his concerned face.

Weeks passed and it didn't take him so long to propose to you, for you to become his spouse.

"I truly love you, dear. I have never even once seen our arrangement as something strictly business instead." He showed you a velvety box with a diamond ring in it. "I admit, it was not the best approach but I thought I could work my way into your heart while profiting you with all the benefits and luxuries you could have from me."

He swallowed the lump in his throat, "I wanted you to see how capable I am."

Something told you that nothing good would come out of your refusal. And instead, logic swarm into your brain. You had been in an arrangement with him for almost a year already and had never even once felt any hardships.

He was nice to you, downright kind and loving even. He cared for you deeply and wouldn't hurt you in any way. It was your fault that you broke free from the barrier of protection he granted you.

With great fame and luxuries, came all sorts of threats. He wasn't disloyal like those higher-ups. He didn't belittle you like others would. He loved you.

Even if you didn't love him, you knew how great it felt to be loved by him. There was not a single loss from this arrangement which was a marriage, right?

[carmelasopranono1defenseattorney]

literally impossible to even be associated with tony without having your life just be a mess, poor melfi

[beneathashadytree]

LOVE YOU TO DEATH - SYLUS QIN X READER

Warnings : slightly suggestive, making out, alcohol consumption, allusions to “sinning”/religious imagery, reader is AFAB and uses she/her pronouns!

Genre : domestic fluff with lots of tension!

Word count : 4.5K words (oops…)

Additional notes : This has been a seriously long time coming🙏🏽 It was a commission made by a friend here on Tumblr, based off Type O-Negative’s song “Love You to Death”, and may or may not have gotten carried away with it (hence the delay and the absurd word count😭). Hope you like it!! And let me know what you think of this guys🫶🏽

Commissions are open!

Tip jar

Masterlist

“Madame!”

The frantic call came from behind her, and with a practiced turn, she faced the red-faced man who’d been running up to her. Keeping her facial expression as placid as possible wasn’t as easy as she was trying to convince herself it was—and especially not after having spent 3 hours in a bedazzled ballroom, head splintering already from the wine and the rapid-fire conversations she’d had to entertain—but she somehow managed it. Coolly, she arched an eyebrow. “Yes?”

And though she eyed him with no disdain, her indifference was intimidating enough to force the man to swallow thickly and shift in his place. A flush had settled on his face, fueling her amusement as he took a hesitant step forward. “I… you said you were waiting for something. If… if you don’t mind, would you, well, care for a dance?”

Poor thing. He probably had no idea. She felt a little sympathetic, but her resolve was still hardened. After all, she was well aware that the only possible reason he’d deemed her fitting to approach in the first place was the fact that she was inarguably the most powerful person in the room. This was only mere exploitation, not actual admiration. His hesitation could be chalked up to intimidation. “Thank you, but I’ve got an escort.”

“But, please, you were talking about the firearms deal—!”

A rich chuckle resounded in her ear, followed by the soft smack of lips against her cheek in a kiss. Fond as that gesture was, the upwards flicker of crimson eyes was no less sharp as his gaze became directed at the overly-ambitious upstart. “I see you’re feeling rather bold tonight, Richter. Directly going for such business talks when asking for someone’s hand… a rookie mistake.” Punctuated by the hand settled on her waist, stroking over the silk, it was made more than apparent who her ‘escort’ was.

The young man’s face paled, and she couldn’t deny the twinge of enjoyment she felt as she played along with Sylus. “Indeed. Anyone else would be put off by such open exploitation.”

“But you’re not anyone, are you? I’d even say you like it when I bring up these things,” he quipped back, bringing her in closer by the waist and tucking her against him, before turning to the wide-eyed, speechless man whose trembling seemed to amuse him even more. “We’ll be off now. Be more careful next time.”

And though he said nothing more, it was clear that Sylus’ warning wasn’t just about being tactless. It was a reminder that the most poised, fanged woman in the room stood by his side, and no one else. The only secrets she’d divulge would be to him, in the confines of their own bedroom, and Richter would do well to remember it. Next time—if there ever were to be one—he’d make sure to remember it, or else he wouldn’t be as lenient.

Arm in arm, they left the stuffy ballroom together, and as soon as they were out in the open air, she heaved a sigh in relief. “Gods, I was about to suffocate. Everyone was going on and on about that deal.” Rolling her eyes, she stopped on the sidewalk to slip out of her heels, stretching her toes as they settled against the gravel. “Approached by ten different people, no less, all trying to butt in and include themselves to ensure some profit or the other.”

Within a second, Sylus had already kneeled down to take her heels, carefully twisting her ankle this way and that to try and soothe the ache of the long evening. She sighed again, and his gaze was hard as he looked up at hers. “You shouldn’t have let them bother you. You’ve got enough influence to prohibit them from ever mentioning it in front of you. And I wouldn’t mind exacting punishments in your stead.”

“A privilege I won’t be using any time soon, thank you very much.” With her heels in one hand, he began to steer her by her back with another. Frowning, she looked away from where she’d initially set her sights. “You didn’t let Luke and Kieran bring the bike around tonight for us to go on a joyride after?”

Sylus gave her a pointed look, slightly exasperated but still dyed in fondness. “Given the dress you’re wearing, I’d have to be particularly stupid to force you to hike it up to your hips to ride on. It would’ve been an entirely different thing if you’d worn one of your velvet suits, though.” Maybe he hadn’t noticed it, but his hand on her back was leaving fluttering touches and strokes over the small of her back, right where the fabric started. And maybe that was his little give-away that he enjoyed seeing every inch of exposed skin with that dangerously low-cut back.

It wasn’t long before they were sliding back into their respective seats in his sleek car. The fresh smell of new leather, cooled wine in the compartment, and something a little heady—a little him—made her grow dizzier with each second. Barely a few minutes had passed with her legs crossed when his own rough palm slipped through the slit of the dress and between her knees, gently prying them apart and gliding over the soft skin, before settling on her thigh right underneath the lace edge.

And though he’d done nothing else at all, save flicker his eyes back to her in the rear view mirror and quirk the corner of his lips upwards, squeezing her thigh before turning his attention back to the road, she felt like he’d bared a fraction of his mountain of carefully-hidden desires. And that was one mountain she knew only she had the ability to watch tremble and shake. Perhaps that was another privilege she had, standing by his side.

***

Sylus’ hands on her feet felt like a small piece of heaven made perfectly with her tired self in mind. After he’d carried her out of the car like she’d weighed nothing with her heels dangling from two of his fingers, he’d let her unlock the door with her fingerprint and quickly settled her into the couch without so much as a grunt. And soon his deft fingers were kneading at her soles, earning a hiss or two here and there that let him know he was definitely doing the right thing.

“I take it you failed to break into these new shoes,” he chuckled, shaking his head as he felt out another small knot that had been killing her the entire evening.

Groaning, she clutched at his wrist, the sudden pain sharp and unyielding. “Wasn’t exactly my priority, with so much going on. I was more preoccupied by the fact that Denise fucked up in the middle of the information chain. Had me cleaning up after her.” Despite her twitching, he went on massaging their tendons and muscles, until the frown on her face slowly morphed into a relaxed expression.

“Why do I have to keep telling you not to concern yourself with what’s beneath you?” Again, he sighed, as though it truly pained him to hear her putting herself through this, and then went on to reverently stroke at her calves, gently lifting her legs up for a second so he can take a seat in her place. “You shouldn’t have to do the dirty work. We’ve got lackeys for that.”

“You say that, but you’re really just pushing more work onto Luke and Kieran,” she scoffed, flicking his fingers away, instead pushing forward and draping herself across his lap, the slit on the side of the dress revealing more of her thigh as she did. A not-so-small part of her absolutely reveled in the way his eyes tracked her every movement, following the fabric as it slipped away and darkening with every inch of soft skin it exposed to his gaze. “And besides, I kind of like letting everyone know that I’m aware of everything going on, now and then.”

“An ego trip then?” Sylus teased, before bumping his nose with hers, hungrily taking in the catch in her breath. “Mm. Well, it’s a highly deserved one, sweetie.”

With her heart hammering in her chest, it was a wonder she could even come up with any sort of reply, let alone one with her whole heart and snark in it. “Flatterer,” she breathed out, eyes betraying her to glance at his lips, perfectly curled and awaiting her every beck and call. If she wanted to regain her senses any time soon and not completely surrender to the gaping maw of his desires, she had to pull back for a second.

And that she did, though her entire being protested to it. No disappointment marred his features; in fact, if she could call it that, she could detect a glimpse of deeper yearning burning behind his ruby eyes. “You know I don’t. Flatter, I mean. You’re just that good.” His words were double-edged. Her power in the position she held was undeniable, but neither was the fact that he never needed to win her favor to have her feelings in his palm.

It’s just that Sylus always did like the chase, more so than the ever-so-pleasant rewards he reaped afterwards. Part of him always urged her to let him earn her affection, and the wickedness within her wanted to see him grovel for it, just a little. And with how utterly infatuated he was—if those all-consuming eyes of his were anything to go by, in their blazing glory and darkened depths—he’d have no qualms with that. If he truly didn’t like going down on his knees for her, then why did he look so sinfully good doing it?

And why was that image of him imprinted in her mind, playing in an endless loop, tempting her to indulge more and more in his attentions?

Still at what she felt was a safe distance so as not to get devoured by him, she gently patted his cheek, her thumb stroking in rhythm with his own fingers wandering to caress her waist ever-so-tenderly. “Then, why not reward me for my proficient skills?” she coyly asked, nodding her head slightly to the rack so conveniently placed beside them.

“Isn’t it too late for that, sweetie?” he asked, though his arm was already reaching over to the assortment of wines he’d so carefully picked out and left to cool in their chilled compartments. Though Sylus had never said it outright, it was no secret to anyone around that he was a wine connoisseur of his own right. The fact that his darling only wished to indulge in the sweet, sweet aftertaste of ludicrously expensive alcohol with him only made him more eager to have it ready at hand—particularly for moments like these, when the sultry look in her eyes paired with her fluttering touch drove him half to insanity.

It wasn’t so absurd to say that he would do anything to keep her so pliantly perched on his lap, every bit as demanding of his attention as he was willing to give her all of him. And the saccharine smile that grew on her face as he reluctantly pulled away from her waist to uncork the bottle was proof that she knew just how desperate he was for her hands all over him and her eyes solely focused on him.

Expertly, he began to pull out the decanter, only to be stopped by her fingers snaking around his wrist, tugging it back. “Not feeling very patient. I’d rather not wait for it to be aerated.”

He chuckled—a deep, pleasant sound straight from the depths of his chest—clearly pleased by her brazenness. “Straight from the bottle and to the glasses it is. I like it when you demand what you want.” Maybe a few years ago, she would’ve flushed deeply at the manner in which she put herself on the line. But with him, she knew that there was no line, and there was no ‘out there.’ For he was a part of her, nestled between her breasts and buried deep inside her, dormant and yet so awake.

Hadn’t they both willed it to come this far? Hadn’t they both wished to be so entwined that all possible lines blurred and faded? And wasn’t this complete and utter surrender to one another only natural after such implicit involvement with each other? She didn’t mind it one bit, if it meant that he was as much as hers as she was his in every meaning of the word. Perhaps that’s why the prospect of being so bare in front of him wasn’t at all daunting. In fact, part of it even felt somewhat exhilarating.

“You make it a habit to bring out my most selfish traits,” she breathed out a semblance of a laugh, watching as he pulled out the two most luxurious crystal glasses he owned, reserved only for their late night wine-entrenched conversations. “I suppose you’ll have to do as I say then, to make up for ruining me like that.” Her voice dipped into a low purr, and she grinned at the flush that colored the tips of his ears, despite how focused he seemed on the task at hand. Like clockwork; like it was some sort of muscle memory he’d acquired over the years he’d spent enamored by her and the words spelled out by her tongue and coated in an almost-innocent tipsiness.

“I’m already bartending for you now. But you can have three more wishes before the night’s done,” Sylus lazily said, stoppering the bottle once again as the sweet scent of his favorite Merlot enveloped her senses; a scent dipped in promises and secret whispers of devotion.

Part of her wondered when she’d started finding drinking so enjoyable, particularly when with him. She couldn’t really think of a specific point in time when his lavish lifestyle had started imprinting itself on her, but somewhere down the line she’d begun to wait for quiet nights of winding down like this. Wrapped up in his embrace, her body heating up with every single one of his achingly tender caresses, both with his practiced fingers and his gaze full of intent… more often than not she ended up sprawled all over him, clothes in various states of disarray as he ravished her—heart, body, and soul.

Leaning further into him and hooking her leg around his waist, the fabric of her dress completely exposed her leg hip-down. She pretended not to notice how he faltered in his actions, momentarily distracted by her as he always was. After all this time, it still left a pleasantly bubbling feeling in her chest to see him react that way to her; like he was being bewitched by her silhouette for the very first time. Laughing, she asked, “And will that power over you vanish at midnight too?”

“It depends on whether or not you play your cards right,” Sylus simply said, after having topped off their wine almost right to the brim, splurging over her just like he always did.

He knew all too well that she could manage him just as expertly as she handled every extravagant ballroom, every meeting hidden in the shadows, and every viciously-worded deal. There were no wrong cards in her deck.

Remorse was something she should’ve been feeling at least a twinge of; engaging in Sylus’ hedonistic lifestyle wasn’t something she’d have been proud to admit a while back. But then again, everything was a whirlwind of passion and earnest intensity when it came to him. Getting caught up in the eye of the storm was no surprise. And when the storm had eyes that twinkled over twin glasses of red wine that matched it, and a smile so wicked and yet so unbeguiling as she was handed one to sip from, then there was nothing to stop her from hurtling towards the edge and accepting the devil’s hand.

Maybe she’d have to beg for heavenly forgiveness for indulging in all her vices, unabashedly. But Sylus had far too much to atone for, and if she knew anything about him, it was that he’d much rather get on his knees to please her than to plead for mercy from divine powers. And though he wasn’t below her at the moment, looking up with lascivious want, he made sure that his palm drawing shapes at the small of her back let her know just exactly how much he craved the closeness of her body.

She carefully sipped on the wine, savoring its tang and sharpness paired with its sweet warmth in the way she’d grown to enjoy, all without breaking eye contact with him. It was a calculated move; almost devious of her to do that when she knew that no matter how much he feigned being collected in front of her, it was no more than a front—one that quickly collapsed after she pulled the glass away and daring to lick drops of Merlot off her lip for a few more seconds.

She could practically feel him groan before she could hear it, and she wickedly flashed him her canines, intently pressing the inside of her thighs against his hip, soft flesh flush against his suit pants, the fabric between them not stopping him from feeling every inch of her. Still, her movements were languid and relaxed. It couldn’t have been the wine; she’d barely had a few sips, not even half the glass, and her drinking habits in public weren’t known for being excessive. But perhaps she was drunk on him and on this moment, and she could feel her body easing into that relaxed state that only he’d ever witness her in.

To the entirety of the N109 Zone, she was unmatched in power, with or without Sylus by her side. To be able to command a room with so much refined and perfected grace, she’d have to have already long demanded respect with her presence alone. But in his arms, playfully peering into his eyes and watching how they roved over every inch of her, and how his Adam's apple bobbed with his thick swallow, she was just a lover who’d stripped away all her inhibitions—and his. A lover he was clearly too entranced by to properly function, if the slight tremor that shook his hand and spilt a few drops of wine onto his throat was anything to go by.

And gods, just seeing the rouge staining his skin and slowly trickling down to his clavicles was enough temptation to drive her insane. Impulsively, she placed a hand on the broad planes of his chest, leaning in so close that she couldn’t escape the scent of his cologne and slight musk. Her tongue darted out, licking a stripe up his neck, and earning a sharp hiss of their name. “Spilled some wine,” she mumbled into his skin, as though that were enough of an explanation, lips sucking a deep red mark onto him. Tensing underneath her, his own hand instinctively dug deeper into her back, pressing them even closer together.

“Minx,” his deep voice rumbled, all out of sorts as though she’d sent him in a daze. Some pride swelled within her as she pulled back a bit to admire her own work of art, the soft skin marred by her stark claim on him. His silver hair had gotten mussed along the way, strands falling in front of his hooded, lust-addled eyes. Even if he hadn’t said it out loud, it was clear that she’d turned him to putty with just one kiss to his neck. With a smirk, she slowly took his half-empty glass of wine and set it on the coffee table beside the couch.

How many times had Sylus regarded her with this much unadulterated want, like if she disappeared for a moment he’d grow mad? She couldn’t count on one hand; couldn’t even begin to recall the first time he’d tied himself down to her. But there was something so dizzyingly satisfying about having such an intimidating man submit to her in every way. Something about the way his hand traced up a path to her shoulder blades, barely covered by the almost-backless fabric of the dress, and his eyes consumed her whole, wine-stained lips curled in a lovesick smile… something about him almost made her delirious.

“You’re the messy drinker,” she shrugged, feigning innocence as she hooked an arm around his neck and toyed with the silken hair at his nape, delighting in the way his eyes momentarily fluttered shut at the contact. “Can’t blame me for taking the chance.”

He inhaled sharply, then let out a breathy laugh as his now-free hand settled on her waist, perching her right on top of him and completely disregarding just how dangerously close he was to completely baring her with that open slit of the dress. “Though I disagree on that slight to my character, at least now you can’t blame me either when I take my chances.”

And then Sylus was kissing her, all softened lips and cherry-flavored lip balm showered in the headiness of well-warmed wine. His hands soothed her aching muscles and yet kindled fire to life underneath her dewy skin, while his tongue caressed hers like a lover’s touch after a long absence. He kissed her like he’d missed her; like he’d been wanting this for too long that he’d nearly forgotten how to breathe properly without her lips on his, and without her wet moans.

He swallowed her every sound like he possessed it—and her, with the greediness of a sun threatening to burn her world whole. But all he ever really was was the all-encompassing night, his shadows curled around hers and his reverent touch bathed in moonlight streaming through half-drawn curtains. Adoration seeped even through his sighs and soft-spoken mutters between stolen breaths, and she wondered if sin should taste as pure as it did from his mouth.

Her hand reached up and her fingers dug into his hair, seeking purchase to ground herself and try to regain an ounce of sanity. An impossible feat that was, especially when his hand had dipped to lightly finger her spine and elicit shivers from the depths of her, while his lips ravished her. Daringly, she nipped at his bottom lip, slightly raising herself off his lap for a moment as she relished in the shaky curse that left him. And with a swift tug, he pulled her back down flush against him, the carnal passion in his eyes completely drowning out his irises.

Not for long though, as the sudden jerk had caused a sloshing sound, and they were both made aware of the fact that it had slipped her mind to set aside her now-empty glass of wine. Whatever was left of it now stained Sylus’ shirt with rose splatters, the wet fabric sticking even more taut against his skin. The glass had already come precariously close to slipping from between her fingertips, with the way he’d distracted her from reality and all common sense with his wicked mouth—but now, he was positively drenched, and somehow, miraculously, without even an annoyed pinch between his eyebrows as he set her glass down.

Perhaps it was because he knew he was to blame for her spiraling in a haze.

Failing to hold back a chortle, she tried (to no avail, of course) to pat at his shirt with a tissue from the coffee table. “If it’s any consolation, pink suits you too,” she managed to make out between peals of laughter. “Though we could’ve bought a rose shirt instead. Less of a hassle, y’know. Infinitely easier to clean.”

Shaking his head as he snickered, Sylus extracted her hands off him, tissue and all, and she climbed off his lap so that he could move freely. “And make your life less interesting? Now, where’s the fun in that, sweetie?” He was quick to shuck off his clothes, throwing them off on the arm rest and running a hand through his hair.

Flushed and disheveled, with kiss-swollen lips and a dampened chest and neck, he looked like the epitome of godless and lawless beauty. No heaven would take him when he lived like he did, but he was a small piece of debauched heaven she stowed away for herself. And having him shirtless like this while she stood above him with shaky legs and warmth trickling through her blood like thick molasses was going to be the death of her.

“You’re getting drunk.” He didn’t ask it, merely stated it as an observation. It didn’t take her long to ponder it, and then she nodded, earning a huff of a laugh from him. He stood up, readjusting the waistband of his pants and gently picking her up in a clumsier carry than earlier. Her dress creased in his grip, but it seemed that neither of them had it in them to care at the moment, nor did it matter that her entire leg had slipped out of the slip. “Lightweight.” And that teasing jab was all he needed to say for her to know that their little fun had been put on hold—just for the night, of course, as he carried her off to bed.

“Like you’re usually any better. Spoilsport,” she bit back, though it held no malice and little force. If anything, fondness seeped into her voice, enamored by the realization that he’d pulled back for her. And how could she have it in her to complain, when he’d taken such good care of her the entire evening? Such tender-hearted care didn’t go unnoticed; not when her eyes only ever saw him, and her ears nestled against his chest could find solace in the rapid fluttering of his heartbeat.

“You’ll thank me in the morning, when you don’t have to nurse a hangover or a sore body.”

Climbing up the stairs shook her body in his embrace, and she tightened her hold around him. Unsurprisingly, as though he’d truly predicted it, she could feel herself growing more drowsy with each step he took, and it took her effort to keep her eyes half-open. Her words were little above a mumble when she replied, “Take my makeup off and I’ll double my thanks in advance.”

“Mm. I’ll ask to cash in, first thing when you wake up.” Even his voice sounded more distant now as she could vaguely sense him pushing their bedroom door open.

“Greedy.”

“And shameless,” came his soft agreement, before slowly setting her down on the plush mattress and nestling her head into her pillow. Her eyes focused on him for a second, taking in that lovelorn smile and affectionate gaze that always, always followed her, before non-verbally handing him her trust and letting go of him, leaving him to walk off.

And before Sylus had even come back with her makeup remover in tow, she’d already succumbed to the viselike grip of a blissful slumber, surrounded by the familiar scent of him all over their bed, and the soothing pressure of him on top of her, taking such achingly gentle care of her like he’d always promised to.

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[solarisfortuneia]

— 𝐤𝐢𝐬𝐬 𝐜𝐚𝐭𝐚𝐥𝐨𝐠𝐮𝐞.

✦ in need of a kiss? well, feel free to pick an experience from our finest collection! perhaps you’ll find one suited perfectly to your tastes?

(or, in other words, the types of kisses they give, and what it’s like to kiss them.)

✦ featuring: aventurine, dr. ratio, jing yuan.

✦ warnings: very kiss focused, not proofread.

✦ notes: these characters with this concept were particularly inspiring today, so i jotted down a little something really quick (might add more characters later in a pt. 2 later? idk)

also forgive me for any characterization errors please i'm still studying them

aventurine.

his kisses are greedy. 

he’s greedy, far too greedy, and selfish to boot— he wants everything you have to give, all for himself. he tastes like a burst of citrus on your tongue, always, always keeping you on your toes, his lips sneakily capturing everything they can, right down to the slightest sound that leaves your lips.

he wants as much of you as he can possibly get, and he’s perfectly capable of drawing it all out from you, bit by bit. he just needs the right bargaining chip, and he has it already, doesn’t he? 

a kiss, for a kiss.

 a fair trade, wouldn’t you say?

(he doesn’t make deals that don’t pay off, after all. and this thing he’s doing with you? well, it sure is raking in the profits.)

veritas ratio.

dr. ratio doesn’t do things in half measures. when he kisses you, it’s all or nothing; he will put his all into it.

he doesn’t confine himself to your lips, either. the philosophy is simple: what kind of learning would one hope to achieve by limiting themselves?

his hands travel all over, learning the wheres, the whens and the hows, almost as if he’s trying to see how you tick, while his lips embark on a journey of their own across the skin of your face, your jaw and your neck.

he kisses with diligence and precision and passion, meticulous and methodical, quickly adapting his methods to even the slightest of hints you send his way. every action he does is intentional and deliberate, so why should this be any different? 

oh, but make no mistake, for all his versatility and straightforwardness, he will not make it easy for you to keep up with him. 

but you can take a challenge, can’t you? 

jing yuan.

he is gentle, he is soft, he is slow— he kisses in the way that honey flows; lazy, languid, almost hypnotizing, like he has all the time in the world. he savors you the same way he savors the tea that lends his lips the subtle bitterness they carry, but they taste sweet all the same.

when he pulls away, a smile graces his face, one that lights up his eyes with adoration. soft as they are, they still command your undivided attention with the way you cannot seem to tear your gaze away from him. his hands still remain on your person though, holding you impossibly close.

and when he tenderly cradles your face in his palms, worries evaporate into air, thoughts slip away to spaces unknown, and moments stretch into lifetimes.

[motherspores]

i find it very funny that people keep saying that grian is going against his rebellion rule by working for the government (not necessarily incorrect) and that the dhp is going to incite a revolt because the dhp is Different from previous governing forces in that the only control grian is excising over the other hermits its annoying them as much as possible (which he does regardless).

like. hermits love corruption. they love running corrupted governments and then dismantling them violently for fun. the dhp isnt necessarily Not Corrupt, but its Not Not Corrupt either. grian gets no profits out of this. he tries to avoid doing his job in every way possible but he still ends up doing it. the dhp is just here to rectify any mistakes made during the initial hermit permit set up and help people with their permit problems.

the dhp is meant to be as soul sucking as possible, but it does still help in the end (if you can actually get grian to cooperate). He'll Do This For You, but he Won't Be Happy About It. his sole payment is how crazy it all drives you.

and while this is not NOT an unrevoltable offense (the hermits have certainly rebelled for less), this also doesnt show any outright corruption other than whatever you'd call a depressed looking man working customer service who hates you for making him do his job. which i dont think really counts. thats just what customer service does to you.

[natsaffection]

OOOOH I HAVE A REQUEST could you do nat x reader where reader is nat’s stress relief (Natasha is a mob leader or ceo or something powerful) and our whole job is to be ready for nat to take, punish, degrade and use whenever she pleases. Top/mean nat super smutty 🫣

Mine to use.

Warnings: 18+! MINORS DNI! Using body for own pleasure, begging, strap on, rough sex, oral (n receiving) spanking, power use

Word Count: 2,1k

A/N: ups..💆🏻‍♀️

Natasha Romanoff, known in the underworld as the Black Widow, sat at the head of a long mahogany table in her luxurious office. The room was dimly lit, the only illumination coming from the city lights filtering through the floor-to-ceiling windows. Her presence commanded respect and fear, a combination that had allowed her to rise to the top of the criminal hierarchy.

Dressed in a tailored black suit, Natasha exuded power and control. Her red hair was neatly tied back, emphasizing her sharp features and piercing green eyes that seemed to see right through any deception. She leaned back in her chair, listening intently to the reports from her lieutenants, each of whom vied for her approval.

“Our shipment from Eastern Europe has been delayed,” one of her men reported, his voice tinged with anxiety. “The authorities have tightened their inspections. We’re looking at a two-week delay, at least.”

Natasha’s eyes narrowed, but she remained silent, her fingers drumming on the table. She had little patience for delays and incompetence. “And the situation with the East Side gangs?” she asked, her voice cold and measured.

“We’ve managed to secure a temporary truce,” another lieutenant responded. “But it’s fragile. They’re demanding a larger cut of the profits.” Natasha’s lips curled into a predatory smile. “Demanding? They’re in no position to demand anything from me.”

As the meeting continued, Natasha’s mind drifted slightly. Beneath the table, hidden from the view of her subordinates, you knelt quietly. You had been summoned earlier, your presence required for a different kind of service. Natasha’s hand found its way to your hair, tangling in the strands as a silent command.

You knew what was expected of you. You leaned forward, your movements careful and deliberate. Your tongue traced a path along Natasha’s inner thigh, your touch light and teasing. Natasha closed her eyes for a moment, savoring the sensation, a soft sigh escaping her lips. Her men exchanged glances, shifting uncomfortably in their seats, fully aware of Natasha’s reputation and her ways with girls.

“How do you plan to handle the shipment delay?” Natasha asked, her voice steady despite the pleasure coursing through her.

“We’re exploring alternative routes,” the lieutenant replied nervously, trying to maintain his composure. “It will cost more, but we can avoid the increased inspections.”

Natasha nodded thoughtfully, her attention divided. “Do it. I want that shipment here within the week.” Your tongue worked skillfully, your movements guided by the rhythm of Natasha’s hand. Sometimes you really wondered how you ended up in this situation and could still remember exactly the first encounter with her:

“Over my knee.” she commanded, her voice sharp and unyielding. You hesitated for a moment, confusion and fear clouding your mind. “Miss Romanoff, I don’t understand—”

“Did I ask for an explanation?” Natasha snapped, her eyes flashing with anger. “Over my knee. Now.”

Swallowing hard, you complied, draping yourself over Natasha’s lap. The position was humiliating, but you knew better than to protest further. Natasha’s hand rested on your lower back, holding you in place.

“Do you know why you’re being punished?” Natasha asked, her voice icy. “No, Miss Romanof..” you whispered, your voice trembling.

“One of my so-called colleagues made a mistake,” Natasha began, her hand coming down sharply on your backside. You gasped, gripping Natasha’s knee to steady yourself. “And I don’t tolerate mistakes.”

The spanking continued, each strike harder than the last, each one a release of Natasha’s pent-up frustration and anger. Your body jerked with each blow, your cheeks burning both from the pain and the humiliation.

“M-Miss Romanoff, please!” you cried out finally. “I didn’t do anything wrong!” Natasha’s hand paused mid-air. “What did you just say?” she asked, her voice dangerously low.

“I—I’m sorry, but I didn’t do anything w-wrong..” you repeated, your voice breaking. Natasha’s eyes narrowed. “Talking back, are we?” she hissed. “You will learn not to speak unless spoken to.”

With renewed fury, Natasha continued the spanking, her strikes even harder than before. Your body jerked with each blow, your cries filling the room. You clung more to Natasha’s knee, desperate to keep yourself from crying out too loudly.

The office door opened suddenly, and one of Natasha’s colleagues stepped inside. He froze, eyes wide as he took in the scene.

“I’m sorry. I—I didn’t realize you were busy..” he stammered. Natasha didn’t pause in her actions, her hand continuing to come down on your backside with methodical precision. “What do you need?” she asked coolly, her eyes never leaving your quivering form.

“I, uh, have the reports you requested.” he replied, trying to maintain his composure. “Leave them on the desk,” Natasha instructed, her voice steady. “And close the door on your way out.”

The man did as he was told, his face pale as he quickly exited the room, closing the door behind him. Your grip on Natasha’s knees tightened, your knuckles white as you fought to keep silent.

“You see,” Natasha continued, her voice a low growl. “I expect absolute obedience. No talking back, no excuses.”

Natasha’s breath hitched slightly, but she maintained her composure, her eyes never leaving those of her subordinates.

“And the truce?” Natasha continued, her voice betraying nothing of the sensations she was experiencing. “Make it clear that any breach will be met with swift and severe consequences.”

One of the lieutenants dared to glance under the table, curiosity getting the better of him. Natasha caught the movement and her eyes snapped to his. “You.” she barked, pointing a finger at him. “Out. Now.”

The man paled, scrambling to his feet. “Y-Yes, Miss Romanoff.” he stammered, hurrying from the room. Natasha’s eyes followed him until the door closed behind him, then she returned her attention to the others. “Anyone else being distracted?”

Her men shook their heads, clearly intimidated. Natasha’s reputation for ruthless efficiency was well-earned, and none of them wished to test her patience.

As the meeting wrapped up, Natasha gave one final command. “Keep me informed of any changes. Dismissed.”

Her men filed out of the room, each offering a respectful nod as they left. Once the door closed behind them, Natasha’s facade of icy control slipped slightly. She looked down at you, her eyes dark with desire. “Good girl,” she murmured, her voice a low purr. “Finish.”

Your movements became more fervent, driven by Natasha’s praise. The mob boss leaned back in her chair, allowing herself to fully enjoy the sensations. Her control over you was absolute, extending from the boardroom to the bedroom, and everywhere in between.

As Natasha reached the peak of her pleasure, her grip on your hair tightened momentarily before releasing. She leaned forward, breathing heavily, her eyes softening as she looked at the woman beneath her.

“Look at me,” Natasha commanded gently. You obeyed, lifting your gaze to meet Natasha’s. “Come here.” Natasha instructed, her voice soft yet authoritative.

You rose to your feet, your legs unsteady. Natasha stood as well, pulling you into her lap for a brief, tender moment.

“You did well,” Natasha said softly, her lips brushing against your ear. “But remember, your debt is far from paid.”

“Yes, Miss Romanoff.” you replied, your voice a mixture of submission and affection. Natasha’s smile was predatory yet tender as she held you close. “Now, leave my office.” She commanded.

As you turned to go, Natasha’s hand came down in a sharp smack on your ass, a final reminder of who held the power. You gasped, a flush spreading across your cheeks as you left the room.

And it had been like this for several months. You owed Natasha a lot of money but could never pay it on time. Until you begged her to forgive your debts and you would do anything to make it happen. Natasha didn't have to think about it for a second and since then you have been her personal toy. She was feeling bad? You were there. Her coffee was too cold? She took it out on you.

One day had been a disaster from start to finish. Natasha’s meetings with the criminal elite had gone awry, with deals falling through and alliances crumbling. Her temper was on a knife-edge as she stormed back into her office, slamming the door behind her. She needed an outlet, and she needed it now.

She grabbed her phone and sent a single, commanding message: “My Office. Now.”

You arrived quickly, your heart racing as you stepped inside. The tension in the air was palpable, and you knew tonight would be different. “Miss Romanoff?”

Natasha’s eyes were dark with anger as she stalked towards you. “Strip.” she ordered, her voice a dangerous growl.

Your hands shook as you hurried to obey, quickly discarding your clothes. Natasha wasted no time, grabbing you roughly by the arm and dragging you to her table.

“Bend over.” Natasha commanded, her voice sharp and unyielding. You complied, your body trembling with a mix of fear and anticipation. Natasha’s presence behind you was overwhelming, her anger radiating off her in waves.

“Do you have any idea how infuriating it is to deal with incompetent idiots all day?” Natasha spat, her hands gripping your hips tightly. “To have every single plan fall apart because of their stupidity?”

As she let the meeting enter her mind again, Natasha pulled something out of her drawer and you heard her strapping something on.

“Answer me.” Natasha barked, her hand coming down in a sharp slap on your backside. “No, Miss Romanoff..” You gasped, the pain mixing with an unexpected rush of arousal.

“That’s right,” Natasha hissed, positioning herself behind you. “You can’t possibly understand the level of frustration I have to deal with.”

With that, Natasha entered you roughly with her fake cock, her movements harsh and punishing. You cried out, unable to suppress the sound as Natasha set a brutal pace.

“That’s it,” Natasha growled, her grip tightening. “Scream for me.” Your cries filled the room, your body responding despite the roughness. The more you screamed, the more aroused Natasha seemed to become.

“Do you know how much I love hearing you like this?” Natasha murmured, her voice dripping with dark satisfaction. “It kinda makes me feel alive.”

“Please..” You whimpered, your body responding despite the roughness. “It’s too—oh my god!”

“Don’t hold back..” Natasha commanded, her voice a low growl. “I want to hear every sound you make.” You cried out, your voice filled with both pain and pleasure. “Oh, please!”

Natasha’s pace increased, her movements becoming even more forceful as she fed off your reactions. “You’re mine.” Natasha snarled, her breath hot against your ear. “And you will take everything I give you.”

“Y-Yes, Miss Roma..noff..” you sobbed, your body shaking with the effort to hold on.

Natasha’s grip tightened further as she reached around and pulled your arms behind your back, holding them firmly. The new position allowed Natasha to thrust even deeper, each powerful movement driving you further into the bed. “Stay still,” Natasha ordered, her voice harsh. “I don’t want you moving an inch.”

“I can’t,” you gasped, your body at Natasha’s mercy. “It’s too deep!”

“Good.” Natasha growled, her voice filled with dark pleasure. “P-Please..”you begged, your voice breaking. “I can’t hold it!”

“Then come.” Natasha commanded, and your body obeyed, the release overwhelming and intense. But Natasha wasn’t done. “Again.” she ordered, her voice leaving no room for refusal. “And this time, scream for me.”

“F-Fuck!!” you cried out, your body trembling with exhaustion and pleasure. “Please, it’s too much!” Natasha brought you to the edge and over again, her control unwavering. Each climax was a release of Natasha’s pent-up frustration, her anger dissolving with each wave of pleasure.

When it was over, Natasha leaned back, her breathing heavy. She looked down at you, who lay panting on the table, your body marked by the roughness of their encounter.

“Get dressed.“ Natasha ordered, her voice softer but no less commanding. “And remember, you are mine to use as I see fit.”

“Y-Yes, Miss Romanoff, thank you..” you replied, your voice steady despite the exhaustion. You dressed quickly, your body aching but your heart full. You knew you would be summoned again, and you would be ready, as always, to pay your debt in whatever way Natasha demanded.