#to calculate simple prices quickly on my own

[1eeminho]

im addicted to this online math game where u can set a number of problems to solve in a given time and ive been doing 20 simple addition and subtraction problems in 1 minute and i cant stop help me

[himasgod]

Kinich x Reader

(0.6k words. I hadn't dared to write about Kinich, but after reading his story and playing with him, I felt like it! Remember that I appreciate every comment, like or repost, they make my day! Also, I accept requests! Enjoy <3)

Where he realizes that you are more valuable to him than the Mora

The air in the mountains of Natlan was harsh and wild, like Kinich. The silence between the two of you, after weeks of roaming those inhospitable places, had become almost comfortable. You both knew the other was there without the need for words, but that day something was different. The tension was felt in every step, in the way his hands tightened the straps of his equipment.

"Why do you always accept the most dangerous missions?" You dared to ask as you followed his determined walk. Kinich, with his gaze fixed on the horizon, did not answer you right away. You usually received direct, raw answers, but this time it seemed that he was meditating on the words.

"Because it is what will bring me more Moras." His answer finally came, as simple as you had imagined.

You stopped, feeling a lump in your chest. Of course, he always talked about Moras, about the tangible rewards he longed for. It was his way of seeing the world, of understanding value. But you knew there was more behind those words. The Kinich you knew, though sometimes cold and calculating, had shown himself to have a much deeper spirit, one that perhaps he himself did not fully understand.

“Is that all that matters? The Mora?” You tried to keep your voice calm, but you couldn’t stop a hint of frustration from creeping in.

He stopped as well, his green eyes meeting yours. A spark of something indecipherable crossed his gaze before his expression returned to that familiar hardness. “What else should matter? We are not born heroes, and no one gives anything in return for nothing.”

You moved closer to him, each step driven by a mix of need and curiosity. He had been by your side in battles, had saved you more times than you could count, but you had never been able to fully decipher what drove him beyond that desire for material rewards. You were so close that you could see the tension in his jaw, the slight flicker in his eyes as he lowered them, perhaps avoiding your scrutiny.

“And me?” you asked quietly, your heart pounding. You weren’t just an adventure partner to him, and you both knew it. But sometimes, Kinich kept you at a distance, as if the price of letting someone get close was too high, even for him.

Kinich raised his head, surprised. For a few seconds, his usual composure seemed to waver, but he quickly regained it. He took a step toward you, his presence as strong and overwhelming as ever, and held your gaze intently. “You’re not a transaction,” he murmured. “You’re…” He swallowed, as if the words were a heavy weight to bear. “You’re important.”

The confession hit you hard, harder than you’d expected. In his own world of Moras, bounties, and contracts, you had found a special place. You weren't just another job, you weren't a goal to be fulfilled. You had gone from being a simple spectator in his life to becoming someone who could break through his defenses, even if it was just for a moment.

"Does that mean you're staying by my side for more than Moras?" You gave him a half-smile, one that Kinich only reserved for you in special moments.

He didn't respond immediately, but instead of words, he let his actions speak for him. With a calculated and agile movement, like the hunter he was, he enveloped you in an unexpected, but firm hug. It wasn't soft or delicate, but it was real. Like everything Kinich did.

"I'm staying because you're someone worth fighting for," he whispered, his voice rough but sincere.

You felt the warmth of his body next to yours, the weight of everything unsaid between the two of you. In the silence of the mountains, you knew that the future of both of you was far from easy, full of challenges and dangers. But at that moment, it didn't matter.

You were with Kinich, and for him, that was more valuable than any reward.

Here is my masterlist, in case you are interested in any more of my work or want to send me a request <3

[totokoismyfav]

hi i have a request for headcanons :] how would the sextuplets react to an s/o who is objectively a functional member of society (job and/or school, booming social life, well liked, etc) but for some reason simps really hard for them. it can by goofy or not, depends on what you think!

osomatsu san/reader | reader who is a functional member of society who is head over heels for the brothers

A functional member of society in love with a NEET? Oh, what a thought! All of them equally are just as infatuated with you, maybe even more so as you are just shining with confidence and wit. So imagine their surprise when you finally ask them to be your boyfriend! They all react differently so let’s see up close and personal.

Osomatsu: - How are you with him, seriously? Everyone wants to know. - A shitty NEET with such bad habits like gambling and drinking and you looked in his direction? He’s just as shocked as everyone else to be honest. - Although, he’s not complaining one bit.  - Proudly parades you around in front of his brothers, like damn he might as well have won the lottery. - Oh, they are so jealous by the way. - At first, he doesn’t really change besides that but a little bit into your relationship, he starts making small changes and working up to the big ones.  - At first, it’s picking up after himself and doing more chores around the house, then it’s actually looking for jobs and talking about moving out one day. - Soon enough, he ends up doing just that and moves in with you, even holding a job and stops complaining about it all the time. - He’s trying, for you, and that is a lot coming from him. 

Karamatsu:  - Oh, be prepared anon.  - This man will make it known that he is just as much in love with you back.  - Things like surprise flowers and gifts show up at your work’s front desk, only the best for his Karamatrsu darling! - “Oh my darling flower, it makes my heart palpitate just to know how much you adore me!”  - Of course, you are eating up every cheesy line and equally spoiling him despite his surprise when you do so, despite still living with his mother he’s not used to being spoiled like this. - Like you swear you saw tears when you gave him a gift on your first date, and it was something so simple too. A guitar pick with yours and his initials on it. He swears to use it all the time, and he does, especially when he serenades to you. He even started to freak out when the image on it started to fade.  - At first, he refuses to let you pay for things even though you have a job and he doesn’t. After a few high-priced dates, he finally lets you help with the costs and even slightly enjoys being spoiled by you. - To still help out and spoil you, he even starts working at a nearby clothing store. - Your love is so annoying to everyone around you but the both of you don’t care, not one bit. 

Choromatsu: - To his non-existent calculations, you two should NOT be a thing, but he doesn’t care at this point. - He’s also kinda jealous of you? Like you’re everything he wants to be but he quickly gets over that once you ask him out.  - At the beginning of your relationship, he is constantly stuttering and sweating from his nerves but he’s over the moon about finally dating you, he always has his signature smile on his face.  - When you start holding hands, you can physically feel his whole body shake just from your palm against his.  - Of course, you are no better as you are in LOVE with this man. - You’re both a couple who are head over heels for one another and very much show it instead of saying it. - It took you guys weeks just to say ‘I love you’ which ended in you running away with your hands covering your face and Choromastu shouting to the night sky of how he was in love.  - He also starts to become a functional member of society (with your help and motivation). - Soon enough, he’s living with you and has a job of his own, and surprisingly to him he couldn’t be happier getting out of the NEET lifestyle he was in for so long. 

Ichimatsu:  - He can barely believe it himself, how could someone like you be in love with him? - You were a knockout, a functional member of society and he was just a shitty NEET, a nobody who no one wants. You must be fucking around with him.   - And he really thinks that at first, it takes a bit of persuasion for him to believe you are actually infatuated with him.  - On your first date, he would sit tables away from you as you drank a milkshake. His face turned bright red as he tried to sip from four tables away with a long straw. - You would simply smile at him, telling him it’s ok to get closer and that you were truly interested in dating him. - Soon enough, you two were doing regular couple stuff like holding hands and regularly going on dates.  - As you both get further into the relationship you notice he starts to really change things, Ichimatsu even gets a job at a local cat cafe. - Soon enough, he’s living with you and holding down a job he actually enjoys (although interacting with people still irks him).  - Although, when you first asked him to spend the night at your house, he spontaneously combusted right on the bench. 

Jyushimatsu:  - Oh ho ho! This man is ecstatic! - His brothers swear that he’s been faster with his batting swing when you both start dating. - It’s like he has a new form of motivation when practicing baseball, running faster, swinging harder and throwing farther all at the same time. - He also seems happier than usual (somehow) , his smile widening whenever he sees you and your wonderful face.  - Will point you out to his brothers whenever he sees you, like he’s bragging or something. “Ha ha look, it’s my partner! Do you see them, huh? Huh?”  - He also starts working as well, hoping to start working as a baseball player in the future. - With your help, he eventually works up to that point and starts playing in local leagues!

Todomatsu:  - Oh he’s the most smug out of all of them. - Of course, he has no idea why you looked in his direction but he’s so glad you did.  - When you told him you were in love with him, he dropped his coffee you two had gotten minutes prior. Of course, he spilled it all over you and profusely apologized about it while helping to clean you up. - Luckily, it was iced so it didn’t burn or anything so you simply just smiled and told him he was fine and it was ok.  - Totally rubs it in his brother's faces, just like Oso and Jyushi but he’s more of a bitch about it.  - “Oh would you look at that, I have a partner now who’s actually interested in me. Score one for the youngest!” - He actually got a scoreboard for it too, the bastard. - He eventually goes back to Sutabaa, working the same position he did before. - He’s officially out of NEET status when he moves in with you and he’s so happy about it as he went up a level as a human once more!

[sinkovia]

Yes, Lieutenant: III

Simon Riley x Fem!Reader

Violence, angst, blood.

Yes, Lieutenant Masterlist

You sat alone in your dimly lit room, the harsh words Ghost said echoing through your mind like a relentless chant.

You're not my type.

You're always following me around like a lost puppy, always watching my every move, and it's annoying as hell.

His words crushed your heart.

Tears streamed down your cheeks, soaking into your pillow as you sobbed in silence. It felt like the walls were closing in on you, the weight of rejection pressing down with an unbearable force.

He was the one to make a move on you first. Yeah, you harbored feelings for him deep down, but you always told yourself you would never act upon them because it was unprofessional, and you were okay admiring him from afar.

How could he have been so cruel? You had let your feelings show, and it had only resulted in heartache.

As Ghost stood at your door, he couldn't help but notice the telltale signs of your sadness. Your eyes were puffy and red, your cheeks stained with tears that you had fought so hard to hide. It crushed his heart, seeing the pain he had caused you etched across your face.

Deep down, he felt a crushing weight of guilt. He knew he had hurt you, and it tore at his conscience. But he also knew he needed to push you away, to keep up the facade of a calm and cold demeanor. His own internal struggle was hidden behind a mask of detachment, a facade he had become a master at maintaining.

It was a battle within him, torn between his feelings for you and his desire to protect you from himself. The guilt coursed through his veins like poison, but he couldn't let it show.

"Price wants everyone in the debriefing room," he said, his voice carrying an undertone of regret.

You fail to catch it.

"Is that all you have to say?" You couldn't hide the bitterness in your voice.

Ghost hesitated for a moment, his gaze dropping to the floor before he quietly replied, "Yes." He turned away, leaving you to grapple with the pain he had caused, all the while carrying the heavy burden of his own remorse.

Leaving you alone with your shattered heart, the room once again enveloped in the heavy silence of your unspoken pain.

Price had debriefed us on a mission that Laswell was sending us on. It would take place in a couple of hours; we were going to breach a safe house not far from here. Laswell had received an intelligence report that the enemy was supposedly using the building to transport cargo underground.

You quickly changed into your tactical gear before heading down to the storage locker. As you walked in, you bumped into Ghost as he was walking out.

He didn't say a word, only shooting you a cold glare before walking away.

The moon hung low in the night sky, casting a silvery glow over the desolate street where the safehouse stood. The building, a nondescript two-story structure, was tucked away in a dimly lit alley.

Your team moved with calculated precision. The air was frigid, each exhale visible as a ghostly vapor. The mission had a sense of urgency, a feeling that time was of the essence. On the flight over, the team had received intel that a high-ranking operative was holed up in the safe house, and extracting valuable information from him was paramount.

The plan was simple, in theory. Breach the perimeter, gain entry without alerting the guards, and capture the operative before he had a chance to react. But in the world of covert operations, simple plans often took unforeseen turns.

As you approached the entrance, your heart pounded in your chest. The adrenaline coursing through your veins was a constant reminder of the danger that lay ahead. The silence of the night seemed to amplify every breath and rustle, heightening the tension.

With a subtle hand signal, Ghost gave the go-ahead. You moved like shadows, silently closing in on the safe house. The breach was executed flawlessly, the door swinging open with a well-timed kick, and the element of surprise on your side.

Inside, the safehouse was dimly lit, the air heavy with anticipation. As you cleared room after room, you could hear faint murmurs and hurried footsteps from the operatives inside. The tension escalated with each passing moment.

The sound of muffled voices ahead signaled that you were closing in on your target. As you pushed forward, you couldn't help but feel the weight of dread pressing down on you.

As you slowly opened the door, silently walking through, you pointed your suppressed pistol at the man standing next to your target. But in the rush of the moment, you failed to realize that there was another man waiting behind the door.

A strong hand clamped over your mouth, muffling your startled gasp. With a swift, calculated move, he managed to pin you down onto the floor. Your heart sank as he took both of your hands and zip tied them. You attempted to scream out, but he quickly taped your mouth shut, your cries stifled.

The target slowly walked over, laughing.

"What do we have here?" he sneered as he kneeled down next to you, harshly grabbing your face and scanning your features.

"You have such a pretty face." His words dripped with malice as he raised his fist and brought it down, striking you hard across the face. The force of the blow sent shockwaves of pain radiating through your body. Your vision blurred, and the room seemed to tilt dangerously. You attempted to scream for help, but all that escaped your lips were muffled groans.

Panic surged through your veins as the unbearable pain consumed you. You squeezed your eyes shut, struggling and flailing in desperation, attempting to get up from the floor. Adrenaline surged through your veins, but it was no match for the overwhelming force of your assailants.

They would just kick you down again...

And again...

And again.

Pain flared in your ribs and jaw, making it difficult to breathe or defend yourself.

Panic set in as oxygen became a rare commodity, and your vision darkened at the edges.

Desperation fueled your adrenaline. With one last surge of strength, you managed to land a solid strike with your foot, pushing back one of the men. But it was too little, too late. The damage had been done, and your body, battered and overwhelmed, finally gave in. 

As consciousness slipped away, you felt a sense of helplessness, a silent plea for someone to intervene and save you from the relentless onslaught.

You felt the blood seeping from your nose...

You felt your blood seeping everywhere.

They continued to beat you as your eyes began to flutter close. Your consciousness slipping further and further away. Suddenly the pain had stopped all at once and you heard a voice.

They kept trying to tell you something,  but your ears were ringing.

A sense of weightlessness overcame you. It was as though you were floating in a vast, featureless void. Unseen forces tugged at your consciousness, pulling you deeper into the abyss.

And then, like a beacon in the night, a presence emerged from the shadows. Strong arms enveloped you, cradling you with unwavering support. The warmth of another human being pressed against you, grounding you in the midst of your descent into the abyss.

You could sense the urgency in the touch, the desperation of the one who held you. Faint words and pleas reached your ears, but they were like distant whispers, struggling to penetrate the thick fog that enveloped your senses. Your vision remained shrouded in darkness, your ears ringing.

He gently cradled you, his heart pounding as he tried tried to wake you up. Your pulse was weak. Desperate words spilled from his lips, as he was running to the med evac. 

You remained unresponsive, caught in a world between consciousness and oblivion.

"Y/n it's me please look at me" As Ghost gently, but firmly, holds you in his arms, he cups your face in his hands trying to get you to open your eyes. Your body was limp in his arms. 

"Y/n open your eyes it's Simon, Please just look at me. Please just open your eyes." Despite his pleas, you were still unresponsive.

"Fuck."

In a few minutes you had landed being put on a stretcher as you were rushed into surgery. 

Five hours of stitching you back together.

The night had turned into a battleground of emotions for Ghost, and as they transferred you into a room, Ghost dragged a chair next to your bed, carefully holding your hand in his. The only signs of life were the rhythmic beeping of machines and the steady rise and fall of your chest as you lay in a deep coma. 

He scanned over your face, you had stitches going across your eyebrow into your hairline, you had stitches on your cheek and lip. Your shoulder had been dislocated and you were bleeding internally. 

You were still unconscious , the doctor had told Ghost it might take awhile for you to wake up but that he should talk to you, to help your consciousness find its way back to your body.

With each passing second, he spoke to you. Talking about the missions you had went on, the nights spent in the rec room, the time Soap had rammed his head into a glass display at a bakery. Any fond memories that he could think of. 

His voice, soft and laden with emotion, filled the room like a whispered secret, the words falling on your unconscious ears. His hand rested gently atop yours, a warm anchor in the cold, sterile room.

"Remember that mission in Prague?" Ghost began, his voice tinged with nostalgia. "It was pouring rain, and you slipped on that wet cobblestone, but you didn't let it slow you down. You just flashed that stubborn grin of yours and kept moving."

A brief pause followed, as if he were savoring the memory. "And those late nights in the rec room, when you'd talk about anything and everything until the sun came up. Those were some of the best moments I had with you. Just listening you talk about all the things you loved."

He shifted in his chair, his eyes never leaving your form. "I need you to wake up, Y/n," his voice trembling with vulnerability. 

"I need you to hear me out. I said some awful things, things I regret more than anything. I... I didn't want to ruin you, to drag you into the darkness that clings to me like a shadow."

The weight of his confession hung heavily in the air. "But when I realized you felt the same way about me, I couldn't help but feel a glimmer of hope, a ray of light in all this darkness. I want you to know that I love you… I have for a long time, more than I can ever put into words. And that's why I pushed you away, to protect you from me."

The room was filled with the unspoken words that lingered between you, the raw emotions that had finally found their voice. Ghost's gaze never wavered, his grip on your hand never loosened, as if he hoped his love and remorse could transcend the silent chasm that separated you.

He was praying that you would hear him, he prayed to a god he no longer believed in, prayed that you would open your eyes and be okay.

You heard every word. If you could smile you would. 

Your heart swelled with warmth at his confession, an overwhelming desire to hold him close, to reassure him that you weren't afraid of the darkness he spoke of, that you were willing to run into it together. 

As his words hung in the air, your inner voice echoed your silent response. You fought with all your might to wake up, to bring your consciousness back to your body, to reach out and tell Ghost that you were there, you wanted to tell him that you were willing to stand beside him, to face whatever darkness the world had to offer together.

But you couldn't speak or move, you could only feel. You felt the touch of his hand on yours. You felt the sincerity in his voice, the love that had remained hidden for too long.

With every word, you fought to regain control, to claw your way back from the abyss. Ghost's confession had breathed life into your soul, and you were determined to answer in kind.

[harrietvane]

So, in Busman’s Homeymoon, Lord Peter buys Harriet Vane a mink cloak worth 950 pounds (according to the Dowager Duchess’ journal entry), but he buys Tallboys for “only” 650 pounds.

Even bearing in mind that real estate really did used to be cheaper, do you understand how that is possible? Or how to find out more about relative purchasing power? I used an online calculator website which gave me some figures, but it still seems insane that one could buy an entire Elizabethan farmhouse for 2/3 the price of a garment! Very curious to learn from others who understand this better than I do.

Ah, I see my esteemed colleague @oldshrewsburyian has also had some interesting thoughts on this, so I'll link that here as well before I begin.

So, it's a legitmate question, and there's no catch-all simple answer (in the gotcha sense of 'why didn't i know that bit of cultural Truth'), but there are mitigating factors that take it from a ridiculous price comparison, to merely outlandish. Even taking into account that the coat is quoted in guineas, not pounds, and that PW says the bank valued Talboys at £800 via a mortgage (the paid price was a discount, for paying in cash quickly, which is Plot Relevant), it gets us to roughly the same place, value-wise. Or shall we say PRICE-wise, rather than value, as I'll get into below. There's several factors at play here - they mainly relate to class, and spending power:

-The house is Not That Great, in terms of the kind of property that PW would usually be buying. I mean it is still a large-ish house, big enough to have 2 adults and small children in, but it's not what would be on his radar normally. The only reason they know about it, it that it's near a place where HARRIET grew up as a child. It's not getting any high marks in particular Beauty, Convenience, or Quality - the main reason HV's drawn to it is sentiment, rather than anything else. They both know that they will have to significantly add to it, and alter it, in order for it to be a comfortable home. That would usually be out-of-budget for someone in Harriet's position, who would expect to buy something that meets her needs 'as-is'. Most people looking at buying that house would be Harriets not Peters, so it might be a tough sell.

-The house has no power, and limited plumbing: There's dark references to DRAINS by the dowager duchess, it's entirely possible that this house has no modern plumbing at all - they make the comparison that the huge palace the Wimseys grew up in wasn't plumbed until recently, but then again they do have about 800 servants, whereas Talboys is just a regular house: they will have Bunter alone (at first), with an assist from Mrs Ruddle. There's mention of "a cistern" with some basic valves, but the scullery is mentioned as having a copper, from which hot water is "scooped into a large bath-can" - a copper being, simply, a large metal basin over a fire, in effect. No running hot water, maybe no flushable loos - it's a factor. They also talk specifially about having to electrify Talboys themselves - it's candles and lamps until then. It's fancy camping. By the mid-1930s, a lot of middle-class buyers would expect a little more convenience in both water and wiring, unless they had significant support staff, which Talboys would not be expected to house.

-There's probably no farm! It's a farm house - not a wider land purchase. People like PW's brother the Duke are wealthy primarily because they own land, not because of the big palace they have (which eats money, rather than generates it). The land is what gives them spending power, because other people are paying them rent to live on it, farm on it, or both. PW's own personal 'younger sibling' wealth is also mentioned somewhere to be primarily in real estate (assumed to be in London) - sad to say: he's a landlord, and that's why he's rich. Talboys, on the other hand, as a purchase, would not, in almost any way, be expected to generate revenue through either farming, agriculture, or charging rent. Until they invent house flipping in 80 years, or until the motorway goes through in 40 years, there's not much expectation that Talboys would increase all that much in value.

-Lastly, there's a massive disparity in what The Market Will Bear when we compare a basic residence vs a luxury item (like a mink coat) in the mid-1930s. This is not particular to that time, though. Like any first-year economics student will tell you, the price of something is not it's intrinsic value, it's what someone is WILLING to pay for it. If someone is willing to pay such a price, that's the price it will be. So, we're not comapring Objects, we're comparing Buyers: the the main purchasers of a slightly run-down farmhouse located nowhere special are Harriets, and main purchasers of mink coats are Peters. Talboys is priced for Harriets. The mink coat is priced for Peters.

Compare for example, a contemporary parallel: the Hermes Birkin bag. It's a leather handbag with a starting retail price of about USD 11,400. Just for the bag. Then, you have fancier versions of the fancy bag, eg wikipedia tells me one version sold at auction for USD 380,000 in Hong Kong in 2017. Now, the Harriets of today are not buying a Hermes Birkin handbag, but they are probably trying to buy slightly run-down houses outside urban centers for (one hopes) slightly less than 380k. The Wimseys of the worlds are clearly buying Birkin bags. In that way, it's actually pretty easy to get to a place where Person A might buy a single luxury item for X pounds, and Person B might buy a whole residence for X pounds, and neither feel like they'd done something insane. The key here is in a Wimsey/Vane marriage, they run up against this concept immediately, and repeatedly.

There's a good reason the first epistolary section of the novel is almost entirely taken up with money chat - the ring, the purchase of shirts from Burlington Arcade, the marriage settlement, the gift from the bride to the groom, the mink coat, the bitchy exchange between Helen and Harriet about HV being allowed "six free copies of her book" to distribute. These people come from 2 fundamentally different experiences of the world. They might have gotten engaged using the word 'Magistra', specifically to emphasise their fundamental equality (in the context of learning and the mind, to begin with), but it can't be denied: there's gaps that need to be bridged. They both know parts of their married life will be spent in attempting to do that, hopefully to their mutual satisfaction. Mention of a mink coat for 950 guineas is a nice, neat shorthand for illustrating what's still at play between them here.

[no-phrogs-in-hats]

Trench Coats and Lingerie !NSFW!

Pairing: Polly Gray x Reader

Warnings: SMUT, semi-public sex, brief voyeurism/exhibitionism, mommy kink

Words: 1312

A/N: This same oneshot is published on Wattpad in my book Bite the Bullet

Your hand is no longer cramping as you enter your eighth hour of filling out paperwork for Shelby Company Limited. A heavy energy sits over your office as you continue, hunched over the dark mahogany desk. As you calculate prices for future galas and sign your name at the bottom of each paper, a light rattling sounds, the door to your office opening and shutting quickly.

Having an inkling who’s visiting you at this hour of the evening, you don’t look up from the paper, a simple “Hello, Polly” sufficing. 

She doesn’t respond as she locks the door, pulling the curtain over the frosted window. You look up now, curiosity grabbing hold of you. You breath hitches in your throat as your eyes take in the sight of her. A light gray trench coat was wrapped around her as she grinned, silently walking around to stand in front of your desk. 

You peer up at her with wide eyes, your mouth dropping slightly. “Polly, what are--”

“Hush,” she mutters. Keeping eye contact, she takes the belt from the trench coat, slowly untying it and letting the coat drop from her shoulders, onto the floor. She grins as you observe her. A light bluebell lingerie encases the curves of her body. The two piece set exposes most of her torso, sheer stockings held up by lace garters. 

She takes a step forward as you stand from your chair. With a triumphant grin, she pulls you in for a kiss, bracing herself against the desk.

“Why are--”

“Because,” she whispers against your lips, “you’ve been working so hard for the past few weeks, darling. I thought you might deserve a break.”

You smile against her, your voice just barely above a whisper when you respond, “What kind of break?”

She pulls away ever so slightly so she’s barely hovering over your lips. The corners of her mouth tug as she answers your question in a seductive hiss. “Use me. Do what you please. Fuck me until I’m crying for mercy, even.”

She pulls you back into her, deepening the kiss, her tongue slipping into your mouth as you moan lightly. A smile just barely cracks on your lips as you respond, your voice barely a whisper. “Then I want to see you beg. I want you to break yourself as you become lightheaded, pleasure taking over every sense. I want to see you touch yourself as you fall apart by your own hands. Show me how you pleasure yourself when I’m not there to do it for you.”

A shaky breath escapes her lips, the corners of her mouth just barely turning into a smile. “As you wish, love.” She presses a soft kiss to your mouth before pulling away and walking to your side of the desk. 

You turn around, leaning against the desk as Polly makes her way over to the leather chair in front of you. She takes a seat slowly, draping her arms lazily over the back of the tub chair, her legs spreading as a cocky grin upturns on her face. 

Lust emits from her gaze as she takes her hand, trailing her fingers on the dark leather, slowly dragging them closer to herself as her slender fingers toy with the gold tufting buttons. Her eyes grow darker, her pupils dilating as her fingers brush over her exposed torso, sending goosebumps along the skin. Her breath hitches as her hands sink lower beyond the waistband of the underwear. 

You bite your lip, the sight alone enough to get you off there. Her head fell back, dark hair parting over her face as her mouth hung open. Broken gasps slipped from her tongue as her hand sank lower and lower.  

“Just like that,” you mutter as she picks her head up, making direct eye contact with you. 

Her eyes fell shut and her chest rose and fell, faster and faster as her hand continued beneath the fabric, fingers moving in tight circles. 

You lean forward slightly, moving away from the desk and stepping forward to Polly. A smug grin presented itself on your lips and you leaned down, taking her chin and softly connecting them with yours. She deepened it, trying her best to take a breath of air. Her breath hitched in her throat as you placed your hand over hers, stopping its movements. Pulling away from the kiss, you look into her eyes and mumble, “Get on the desk.”

Forcefully, she takes your lips again, her tongue grazing your teeth as she stands from the chair. Her hands push you back and you’re able to shove everything from the desk and onto the floor before she takes you again by the collar.

“You know,” she breathes against your lips, “I was quite open to you telling me what to do...But, now...I can’t take it anymore.”

You grin against her lips as she tears off your waistcoat, throwing it aside on the chair. “That prideful, eh, Pol?” 

She says nothing and her hand grasps the tie around your neck as she pulls you closer to her. Skilled hands untie the ribbon quickly as possible, ripping open the pristine white button-up that hid the chills on your spine. Her lips trail down to your jaw, her teeth grazing your pulse as her hands run along the smooth skin of your waist. 

Your hand goes to her hair as a breathy moan escapes your lips. “Fuck…”

A hum of amusement sounds from her as she makes her way down to your collarbone, biting at the exposed flesh. Her hand snakes down to the waistband of your pants, continuing down past your underwear. Her fingers pressed hard, drawing tight circles around your clit.

She makes her way back up your neck, stopping at the base of your earlobe and tugging softly on it with her teeth. “My my…” she tsks, “...you’ve certainly been bad haven’t you?”

“Pol, I--” You release a shaky breath, not having a clue what to say. 

“Quiet, pet,” she hushes. Her fingers move faster, eliciting gasps from your lips as her teeth nip at the skin on your neck. 

The knot in your stomach grew tighter by the second as her fingers worked and your breath became shallow as you felt the release just over the edge. Your hands grasped onto her back as you spoke as best you could. “Pol, I--Please--I’m--”

“Begging now, are we?” she asked, pulling away from your neck. “I like it, do it again.”

Your eyes squeezed shut as you tried to form words, holding back with every strength you had. “Plea--please, Mommy, let me--let me cum so you can watch--watch me lick it off your--fuck--your pretty fingers like the desperate--slut I am.”

“It’s good you know your place,” she mumbled. “Good you know you’ll do anything for me…”

“Yes,” you whined. “Please, just let me--”

“Go ahead, cum for mommy,” she responded, pulling your face to hers as she connected your lips. 

You moaned into the kiss as you felt every sense heighten and every movement slow. You caught your breath, whimpering as she removed her fingers. 

“Open,” she commanded.

As you obeyed, she pressed her fingers to your tongue. You close your mouth taking in the taste of yourself. As she pulls her fingers away, she pulls you in for another kiss. 

“Now,” she murmurs, pulling away. Her unfinished claim still standing, she moves across the room, retrieving the trenchcoat and throwing it back on. She examines her hair in a small mirror hung on the wall and goes to the door. After unlocking it, she turns to you, smirking. “I guess I should get home. Finish that work, darling, and you get another reward.”

And with a wink, she turns away, closing the door behind you, your chest still heaving as you try to relive the past hour.

[lancedoncrimsonwings]

To Cage A Dream

Sandman (Netflix)

A little idea that popped into my head when watching the Sandman on Netflix. What if Desire and Despair sent someone... special to torment Dream whilst he was trapped in the glass cell?

I have a few ideas for the actual Whump, but this is a little "to set the scene"

When Roderick Burgess had died, Dream had silently wondered whether his son, Alex would finally free him.

That had proven an impossible fantasy when the price for freedom was too steep a cost to pay. For the murder of Dream's beloved Raven, Jessamy, Alex Burgess would pay- even if Dream had to languish in this cell for another hundered years before he could fulfil his vengeance.

It was seventy years into this second period of imprisonment, when Dream had a visitor. He appeared one day without warning, just hours after Alex Burgess had left to England for some trip or another. Dream did not know- nor did he care for the specifics.

This man though... he was new, and Dream was admittedly curious.

The man paused just inside the room, an inscrutable look upon his face. He was unassuming in stature, somewhat reminiscient of that same man who kept him hostage; albeit when Alex Burgess was in his younger years, which were now very much behind him. He had fair skin with dark blonde hair swept up into a long plait, all angular features that were it not for an unsettling air about the man would have looked almost attractive, nay, alluring. This strange man was dressed casually, clothing clean and fresh but cheap of cloth and clearly worn. Perhaps a simple gardener or stable hand.

The man strode forwards with the poise of one that did not match their humble clothing, clearly this was a man who had power and knew well how to command it. Crows feet crinkled at the corners of his hazel eyes as he drew closer. A closed smile tugged at his thin lips. Without a single word, the man paused a mere hair's breadth from the sigil on the ground then peered curiously through the glass, lingering over Dream's naked form.

Dream's curiosity quickly faded to unease. He could not say why for sure but he did not trust this man. There was something about him that he could not place, something... wretched. Every instinct in him told him to run. Dream ignored this instinct, misguided as it was. Lord Morpheus, King of Dreams did not run.

The man's calculating gaze slowly rose to meet his own, a studious look that Dream unflinchingly returned.

It was then that Dream saw it, the intent of this man as warped and wicked as Dream's own nightmares reflected in that cold, dark stare.

Imaged flashed through Dream's mind of this man's each and every twisted desire. He saw himself, once-Lord Morpheus, beaten and broken, bleeding and cowering, screaming and silent, all at the hands of this man. If one could even call this person a man. "Desire" was right, the man was surely one of *theirs*, sent to torture him for their delight, sent to drive him to the arms of their twin, Despair.

Oh the wicked games his siblings would play, when the King of Dreams was caged away. For the first time since he had been captured, Dream's eyes flashed with real fear.

He did not fear the pain that was to come.

No.

He feared how much he *wanted* it.

To feel anything at all, even pain, after over a century of nothingness... the very thought alone set his heart beating quickly in the cage of his chest.

This cell was colder than the icy fires of Hell, and no warmth had touched Dream's skin for longer than he could remember. No breeze crept over his flesh, no sun warmed him, no pain crippled him save that of his aching limbs, no pleasure sated his lustful desires. He had long since forgotten what it felt like not to hunger, long since forgotten the taste of water on his lips. Dream, such was his namesake could not die, not from mortal means like this; but with every unsatisfying breath in this sealed glass prison he ached of sensations that he had not felt in far too long.

Dream *craved* what he had been denied.

The machinations of his siblings may have been designed to break him, but Dream knew they could not, would not succeed. Not if he had not broken already. This new mortal man, Desire's apparent puppet, would be no more or less than what he had already endured.

Dream raised his head to the challenge, and the man smiled.

"Shall we begin?"

[holly-fixation]

Silver Turncoat: Chapter 5

Summary: The golden child’s first mission was supposed to be a simple extermination of a people preventing Shinra rule. It was what he was trained for. What he was made for. But when a blond roughly his age gives him the chance to escape the life Shinra has planned for him, he’s given the first real choice of his entire life.

This was their one and only chance to make it to the western continent.

Inspired by this prompt by @im-totally-not-an-alien

Please enjoy!

Chapter 5: Come Home

Dark clouds intercepted the sun’s magnificent rays an hour before they reached the mighty city. Water began falling just as they entered Old Junon, the lower level abandoned by Shinra with the exception of the guarded elevator. The quaint nature of the remaining fishing town stirred curiosity in Sephiroth's heart along with an odd buzzing in his mind, but they had no time to waste on passive ailments. 

They entered the first store on the right, a backwater name not worth remembering. The youngest spotted the hooded cloaks they absolutely needed. The elder collected two shirts, pairs of pants, pairs of socks, and even pairs of shoes. 

“Is that all?” 

Cloud nodded. “This is everything. We’d also like to sell.”

“Let’s see what adds up first. No point in handing you gil just to give it right back.”

Sephiroth lifted the large leather bag onto the counter. He vaguely heard a mumble of ‘good gods’ before the shopkeeper dared to open it, shifting both dull and sharp spoils with a ruler: untreated leathers, monster claws, horns, teeth, and even edible meat saved in its own sealed sack.

She rocked her head as she calculated quickly. “Deducting the price of those… ten thousand eight hundred gil. Take it or leave it.”

That wasn't nearly the number they hoped for, but this town was poor and the monsters weren't too difficult to kill.

“Thank you.” 

She placed the gil in Cloud's gloved hand and he pocketed it immediately. 

“Do you know where the nearest restroom is?”

“There're a few stalls two allies away on your left. The signs are worn down but the water works. If you don't mind me asking, why are you guys dressed like that? I heard you're not allowed to alter your uniforms.”

Cloud gave a small chuckle. They prepared for this question. “Because this guy,” he wrapped an arm around the helmeted teen and pulled him off balance. According to the blond, this was usual behavior for ‘buddies’. It still felt weird though. “Forgot all his civilian clothes back in Corel and didn’t want everyone assuming he’s on duty.” 

Sephiroth looked away, hoping the shopkeeper would perceive it as shame. 

“Why not take the helmet off?”

“Oh… Can I tell her?” His voice suddenly dropped to a whisper. 

The helmet nodded. 

“He has a horrible scar on the left side of his face. A nasty accident in a mako reactor. He's alright, but he doesn't like the looks he gets.”

“Oh that’s horrible. Hey,” the woman suddenly placed her hand on his shoulder. The supposed cadet instantly went rigid. “I totally get that. My husband kept his face bandaged for a year after he got fish hook stuck in his cheek. It took less than half the time to heal, but he was terribly afraid of the looks. Oh! Here.” She let go of him and slipped a pair of cheap sunglasses off a small rotating shelf on the counter. “It's on the house. One scar bearer to another.”

The boy took them and nodded. This must be that ‘small town kindness’ Cloud once explained to him. Cloud explained a lot to him. “Thank you for your kindness…” He kept his voice low and airy. 

She didn't recognize it. Thank gods. They collected the bag of their clothes and swept into the alley. Without speaking, Cloud handed Sephiroth his portion and they slipped into the stalls. 

Discarding his sword was by far more difficult, but discarding his armor affected him as well. It was, however, far easier to stuff the remainder of his armor and uniform into the helmet than to bury his weapon in the middle of nowhere. He heard Cloud exit first, swiping the helmet from under the stall as Sephiroth finished putting on the new pants. He heard Cloud continue the next step of their plan, shoving both uniforms and the helmet to the bottom of the trashcan near the sink. Then he heard the constant spinning of the paper towel roll as Cloud covered up the evidence. 

For a brief moment, he wondered what Hojo would think if he saw him right now. Then it hit. 

The buzzing in his mind spiked just before he unlocked the stall door, suddenly falling to his knees and holding his head. 

“Seth! Are you okay?!” Cloud called his simple alias, but it muffled against the internal shatter. 

Endure the pain, Sephiroth. You have yet to reach your threshold. 

The more you endure, the greater the power that will awaken within you. 

The laugh echoing in his mind nearly made him shutter. He didn't even notice the small grunt of pain that left his lips. 

“Hey.”

He felt a hand on his arm under the stall door. 

“Breath slowly. Deep breaths.”

The teen obeyed unconsciously before the weakness drained and he stepped to his feet, opening the lock. The buzzing lessened to the same intensity he entered the city with. “Sorry. I suddenly felt… uncomfortable.”

Cloud seemed to ignore him as he scanned his face for the truth. 

“I'm fine now. Let's go.”

“We can come back tomorrow. We can turn back right now and no one would know.” 

“The ship won't return for two days. It’ll be too risky circling the city. We need this done today. I'm fine.”

Cloud hated this. Sephiroth could see it. But he also saw there were no other logical options. The longer they waited on this continent, the greater risk of Shinra finding them. Gods forbid the company captured them. Sephiroth shuddered at the thought of the discipline waiting in the lab. He couldn't claim he was taken prisoner anymore. He actively aided in their travel to find his mother. 

“Once we get on that elevator, there’s no turning back. This is the last chance we have to get proper rest.”

Sephiroth looked at Cloud with calculating slit eyes but ultimately landed on the same conclusion. “Let's go.”

The blond handed him the sunglasses. 

He had forgotten, taking them and shielding his inhuman eyes.

At the base of the elevator, Cloud simply paid the ten gil and they left without issue. Cloud explained on the ride up that it was probably the end of the man’s shift. No one cared about anything at the end of a shift, especially two teens that looked like mako addicts with their baggy clothes and cloaks. 

* * * 

The bustling upper city was a nightmare. Cloud’s hand itched with instinct to protect the freed soldier behind him. He knew their luck wouldn’t last forever. He only prayed there was enough left over to get them on that passenger ship. 

Banners he once saw decorate the city with celebration now begged for action. Every inch of available banners and advertising boards were covered in the image of the golden child with the title ‘we miss you’. Posters begged for accurate information with the promise of reward. Every shop tuned into the same news station, an eerie lull under all activity constantly updating the city on whereabouts and progress made in the search, fusing with the constant blare of air traffic above. Television screens silently displayed President Shinra's speech, the captions claiming the soldier was like a son to him and they were searching every corner of The Planet to find him. 

Messages in apartment windows read ‘Sephiroth come home’, some written in large colorful crayon with unpracticed hands. 

The silver haired teen unconsciously tucked his head further into his hood as they began their trek through the crowded sidewalk. The blond led the way and snaked through the crowd, the teen trailing close behind. Ten blocks. They just needed to walk ten blocks and they'd be halfway there. 

But with the eighth block completed, Sephiroth collapsed. They had no time for questions. Cloud quickly threw the boy’s arm over his shoulders and guided the soldier to a dirty alley, not a single stranger offering their aid or concern as they walked around the two. The teen grunted and groaned, trying to hide the noises under his breath even now. 

“What happened?” The blond asked as he slowly lowered them to the ground, Sephiroth's back sliding against the brick wall. “What's happening?”

His hands were on his head, pulling his hood down to avoid reaching for his hair or knocking off the sunglasses. “I-I don't know. Ah…” the strength in his voice wavered with each word leaving his lips. 

Why did this new problem have to start today? “We have time. We can wait it out. Breath.” He kept a hand on the black cloaked shoulder, trying to ground this invisible ache. 

Time only worsened the phantom pain, each tick of the clock raising its power. Sephiroth’s groans only grew sharper and louder despite his strength. “We need to go…!”

Cloud opened his mouth to argue.

“They’ll spot here… We need to leave now…!”

Damn it. He helped Sephiroth stand without another word. He hoped the teen's debilitated state would at least keep Shinra’s eyes away. After all, why would Sephiroth ever need help? Side by side, the horde of people tried less to avoid them, bumping into both of them as they tried to sneak by. The teen desperately grasped the hood in his fist, praying no one saw his face or his hair. 

Cloud led them to the cargo bay, the path thankfully familiar enough. He found an exhausted sailor by the loading dock and offered his aid loading the ship in exchange for passage for him and his sick ‘brother’. The cadet agreed with a bribe of five thousand gil, claiming security was tight thanks to the golden child’s disappearance. Thankfully the ‘brother’ comment prevented the need to see the other hooded boy’s face. Cloud sat the soldier in against one of the many stacks within the hanger. He only returned when the task was complete and the ship was moments from leaving port.

“Are you any better?” He kept his voice low, careful of any sailors that weren’t willing to stay quiet for a few thousand gil. 

Sephiroth shook his head as Cloud took a seat next to him, both of them stuck between two containers for the next twenty four hours. He rested his head on his arms and knees, but nothing soothed it.

The blond breathed softly. “Here. Lean on my shoulder.”

He clearly didn’t understand because he didn’t answer, only muffling long cries of pain. 

“Just try it. It might help.”

Sephiroth shifted slowly, turning and resting his forehead on the brown cloaked shoulder. The slightest bit of tension left his body.

“Better?”

“A little… nh…”

Cloud had absolutely no idea what was happening, and Sephiroth didn’t either. The silver soldier suffered even as the ship began moving. Ten minutes passed at sea before his small grunts finally stopped. The blond waited, but the soldier did not speak or move, remaining exactly where he was.

“...did it stop?” Cloud prompted after another moment.

Sephiroth looked away before slowly sitting up, freeing Cloud from his touch. “...Yes.”

“Do you know what it was? Any ideas?”

He shook his head. “Sorry.”

“You have nothing to apologize for. You’re better. That’s what matters.”

The teen removed his sunglasses before glancing at the ground, his face stone but his eyes revealing. 

“Do you want to lean on me again? I didn’t say you had to stop.” The glare he gained was full of distrust. That Cloud could identify. “Really. I mean it.” He tapped his open shoulder. “We’re not going anywhere for a while.”

“Why do you do this?”

His yellow brows knotted. “Do what?”

“Why do you…” He trailed off, holding his head in his hands in frustration.

“...I don’t want to push anything on you. I just know you’re not used to putting yourself first. I’m offering. If you really don’t want it, you don’t have to take it.”

“...no ulterior motives?”

Cloud’s heart broke at the idea alone. How many times was the boy offered comfort as a test and punished for taking it? “None.”

With a question like that, he was surprised when Sephiroth gave in and rested the exact same way as before, not a shred of extra contact taken. Cloud slowly, carefully wrapped an arm around the boy not out of necessity but of comfort. The silver soldier’s body started shaking, but he did not make a sound. 

Cloud knew of the pain, but only Sephiroth knew the memories that ruthlessly attacked him until the headaches finally stopped and the deep twist of the knife that needed time to heal.

.

.

.

.

To be Continued…

Author’s Note: Apparently I am incapable of writing a single chapter and moving on. So here, two chapters in one week! Cloud “Doesn’t know how to talk about his emotions” Strife and Sephiroth “probably never learned that emotions are a good thing” are very interesting to write in moments like these. Anyway! We’ll get back to what the P0s are doing next time!

Thanks for reading!

Chapter List 

[splendidissimus]

late 2001 - Petty

((Content warning: kidnapping, implied torture, caretaker turned whumper, whumper turned whumpee))

((Promptspiration: @whumptober 2023: day 20: "You're going to regret touching him." ))

((In response to the escaped Death Eater incident.))

Genre: whump

Romance level: none

Angst level: 1/5

Draco's headspace: --

((words: ~500))

------------------------------------

"I should thank you," Lucius said in the darkness, "for demonstrating just how simple it is to get a person out of Azkaban, now that the guards are merely human." 

He lit the lamp hanging from the ceiling. Dim firelight descended on the low earthen room, casting eerie shadows over Rowle, who was just starting to sit up in bleary confusion. Lucius stood on the bottom stair, looking down on him. 

Rowle looked around quickly to get his bearings, and recognition came with a hiss. The lamp was new, but otherwise the cellar was perfectly familiar. "Lucius." He clambered to his feet, but, unarmed, was too wary to advance yet.

Thorfinn Rowle was a Nordic giant of a man, with several inches on Lucius and built to match. The sight of it stoked the furnace of cold fury inside him. He had turned that strength wholly against a man fifteen years his junior and half his size… desperately ill… deprived of his medications… terrified, starved, neglected, physically weak and mentally fragile…

"It might interest you to know what your life is worth," he said mildly, savouring the anger like an old wine, letting it swirl around his mind and colour his perceptions. "Well, not your life; that has no value. But the going price of an Azkaban guard with the skill and leeway to extract a prisoner." 

"It doesn't matter, Malfoy. You've got your kid, let's just—"

He interrupted like he couldn't even hear him wheedling. "Fifteen thousand galleons." 

Rowle jerked taut and snarled. "You petty ponce—"

As well he might. He had been demanding only ten thousand in ransom for Draco. 

"The word you're looking for is 'angry'," he said coldly. "Very, very angry." 

Rowle was realising his situation now, recognising that he needed to try to escape. His eyes darted over the room, found only the stairs, and calculated that he might be able to make it; he lunged suddenly, aiming to knock him aside and run. Probably much like Draco must have done when he first found himself here. With an almost languid flick, Lucius lifted his wand and froze Rowle in place. 

Although, the wand was not his, precisely — there were some things it wouldn't do to have traceable back to one's own wand. 

"Twenty-nine days," he said, as he stepped off the stair. Rowle could hear and watched him with only his eyes, but could not move as he approached. "Twenty-nine days you held my son in this," he glanced around with the mildest sneer, "wretched hole. Yet he managed to survive you. What do you think that's worth?" He spun the disposable wand lightly against his fingertip, looking him over. 

"Twenty-nine hours of the Cruciatus?" Rowle's eyes took on a frantic look, darting around the cellar. 

"Twenty-nine pieces of you that don't need to be attached?" Rowle's eyes flinched back toward him, fear feigning defiance. 

"Or shall we just see if you can make it to thirty?" 

[holofoiltowercard]

The Journey of The Tarot Haiku

III: The Empress - Creativity

I had previously talked about what art software I used to create my digital illustrations for the book, and now I would like to share my actual process of creating the illustrations.

Even in the early stages, when I was contemplating the fact that writing two poems for all 78 Tarot cards would mean a minimum of 156 poems, I thought to myself, I don't necessarily want to limit myself to just the cards. Why not round it out and include a poem about each of the Suits as I introduce them? Why not include the number system that had been so beneficial to my own understanding in general? However, at that point I realized that it might not be best to represent these concepts with the cards themselves. I could have, of course, used the cards for the numbers - it might have been interesting to line up all the aces, twos, threes, etc. to show how the numbers are expressed in the Minor Arcana. But for poems representing the individual Suits, what card should I pick? And what card would best represent the Major Arcana? Or reversals, or the matter of context? The idea of using cards for all of these and having them repeat throughout didn't feel quite right to me.

At any rate, I would have to design a cover for the book, so if I was going to do that, why not see if I can make some simple but effective illustrations for some of the content as well?

This was my first time doing vector art, which was a bit of a challenge, but I was surprised to discover that it wasn't really difficult so much as a little fiddly. It was crucial that it be vector art, because it is based on mathematical calculation of the curvatures, and no matter what size you enlarge it to, it will stay crisp and clean. I had no idea what size the final product might be, and so I wanted to ensure that even when resized, the images would look nice.

I very quickly settled on a color scheme: there is something elegant and magical to me about a deep ocher gold accented by black and white. I wanted to keep the cover simple to begin with: my resources were limited (not stunning photography and editing for me), and it is self-published, so why not allow it to look like a single person made it with everything they had? It's true! So I set out to create some vector illustrations with my color palette all set.

The number system was discussed in a previous post, and it was a no-brainer to use dots and lines to construct the shapes. I made a new file, used the same dimensions and fitted all of them carefully within the same sized space. Some of them look larger than others, which is the price you pay when you are drawing shapes that are less bulky than a square.

Then came the Court Personalities, which were all modeled after individual Court Carts (the Page of Swords, Knight of Cups, Queen of Wands and King of Pentacles, respectively), and to keep the illustrations mostly a lighter color, I made the clothes golden and the faces black to show that the rank is what stays consistent, and the individuals themselves may be any of the Suits. I then designed the Suits and drew their symbols, mostly free style, keeping them simple.

By far my favorite was the illustration I did for the Major Arcana, and had I not settled on the cover looking like a simple card back, I might have used this as the cover illustration:

That is all for now! I hope you enjoyed these, and thank you for reading!

Buy the ebook

Buy the paperback

Buy the hardcover

[salty-dracon]

ELI5: The Silicon Valley Bank Collapse

TL:DR SVB made a somewhat risky investment which went poorly in changing market conditions, and didn’t have the money to pay back their depositors. The FDIC has decided to fund the remaining bank accounts, but shareholders will realize a total loss on their stock.

If you haven’t been following the news, the second biggest bank collapse in American history just happened. But you probably have no idea what that means, so I’m going to explain it all in simple terms, with no frills, no biases, and no opinions.

Please let me know if I get anything wrong here. While I do work in finance, I’ve heard conflicting sources on some of the events.

The Basics of How Banks Work

Left to their own devices, people ordinarily wouldn’t just give their wealth to someone else for safekeeping. But these days there are many incentives for the average person to lend their money to a bank. Yes, there’s the matter of security (robbers can steal physical tender, such as physical bills and valuables), but there is also interest. By lending your money to a bank (like a loan!), the bank then uses your balance to invest in the stock market or major projects such as other peoples’ mortgages, with the promise that all of the money you’ve placed with them will be returned to you when you ask... with a little bit extra as interest. That’s your incentive for placing your money with them.

The point is, you placed your money with a bank, and in exchange for you lending them your money, they’ve promised to give it back to you when you ask, with a little bit extra. That’s important to understanding the next topic.

Investments, Reserves, and Insolvency

Okay, but how do banks generate the “little bit extra” that they promised to give you in exchange for borrowing your money? Through investments!

Investments can be a lot of things. Mortgages are investments- a bank can lend someone a big chunk of money, and in exchange the bank receives cash monthly that ends up being worth more than they loaned out. They can be investments into the stock market- buying stocks at low price, watching the price rise, and selling them high is a way to net profit. There are other types of investments too, like bonds (mini loans), CDs (low risk, long-term investments that guarantee profits that bank customers can take out), and options (very complicated). What they have in common is that you lend your money, and hopefully get more back (though there’s some risk of loss).

As an example, let’s pretend you’ve put $20,000 in a bank account. The bank could then take $10,000 and put it into a risk-free investment that returns at 2%. One year later, the return is $10,200, at least $10,000 of which must return to you. The bank may take $100 of that as their own profit and return the remaining $10,100 to your account- the remaining $100 is your interest. (This is a theoretical example. My own bank account hasn’t generated nearly that much in interest.)

But let’s say the investment isn’t risk-free. They’ve taken $10,000 of your money, invested in that 2% return project, and it flopped. Ouch. Now they’re out $10,000- of your money! That doesn’t seem fair!

That’s why banks have reserves. It’s a buffer/stockpile of cash or liquid assets (things that can be converted to cash really quickly) that covers a depositor’s finances should the bank’s own investments go south, OR if people need to pull out their money. Banks usually have a dedicated team of analysts that calculate the amount of reserves a bank can safely set aside to cover these sorts of events. This covers souring investments as well as times when a big customer is planning to pull out a ton of savings. That $10,000 is a drop in the bucket for them, but something like $1 million is more concerning.

So, even if the investment goes south, at least you’ve still got that guaranteed $20,000 on demand in case of, say, a medical emergency.

... At least, that’s how it should work.

If a bank doesn’t have enough reserves/quick money to fulfill its obligations of money on demand to everyone who lent it to them, it becomes insolvent- basically bankrupt unless they do a lot of stuff to get money fast really quickly. This can involve pulling money out of investments (which costs money to do, and is not something any investor would want to do unless they need a lot of money really really fast). This is the worst case scenario for any financial institution and one they want to prevent at all costs.

Understandably, the insolvency of the bank you’re keeping your money at is a terrifying situation for people who really need that money. And it was a common situation up until the 1930′s.

Bank Runs

You probably know someone who lived through the Great Depression who has a large stockpile of cash and refuses to use credit cards or banks. Some people probably even call them stupid for doing so. I’m not going to call your money hoarding grandparents stupid, since they’re operating off a very real fear- the fear that a bank won’t have the legal tender to give them their money when they ask. That situation was VERY COMMON before the FDIC was created in 1933 to insure the deposits of its member banks.

What would happen is that you’d hear that some news about how a certain bank was having financial trouble, and might close very, very soon. You freak out and realize that if they close, you’ve given your money to them, and now you’re not going to get it back! You go to a branch of the bank to withdraw all of your money, only to find that everyone else had the same thoughts as you, and the branch is already out of physical tender. As more and more people realize they’re about to lose all of their savings, the bank is drained at an exponentially increasing rate- and soon, the bank has become insolvent.

Banks have defenses for this- suspending withdrawals, limiting withdrawals, and asking their central bank for more liquid funds. But in the case of a bank run, or a bank panic, which is a bunch of banks experiencing bank runs at once, those defenses might fail entirely.

The FDIC, an American Government Corporation, was created as an insurance company for banks. Basically, banks pay dues to the FDIC, and in the case of the bank’s insolvency, the FDIC guarantees deposits up to about $250,000. It was created partially as a way to avoid future bank runs and protect consumers in the case of a bank collapse.

Interest Rates and Inflation

You’ve probably heard about the Federal Reserve hiking interest rates or keeping them low throughout the recent pandemic, but what does that actually mean, and why is it relevant here?

The Federal Reserve sets target interest rates- basically, setting the price at which major banks can borrow from the government. This ends up forming the basis for other types of loans you can get from banks- mortgages, car loans, etc.. Periodically these are revised with regards to economic conditions.

Basically, raising interest rates is used to encourage people to STOP borrowing money and START lending money- the return for lending is higher, and the price of borrowing is higher. Lowering interest rates is used to encourage people to START borrowing money and STOP lending money- the return for lending is lower, and the price of borrowing is lower.

(This is why you always want a loan with a low interest rate, btw!)

(And keep in mind that these are with regards to major economic decisions, and not necessarily the types of loans an ordinary person would get.)

Now, why is inflation relevant? Yes, it’s really high right now, and that means that the prices of everything are increasing a lot! The Federal Reserve’s answer to that is to increase interest rates- by making it more costly to borrow money, they’re hoping to stop an unsustainable level of price increases in everything else.

I think I get it. Now what’s going on?

Silicon Valley Bank was a fast-growing bank that, in recent years, held a lot of funds for entrepreneurs and tech startups- about 50% of all venture capital money in the US! What this means is a. a lot of large accounts in b. mainly one sector of the economy (technology).

That being said, the bank would most certainly not outpace inflation if they didn’t invest it. However, at the time, they couldn’t find any places they could loan money to.

Furthermore, the tech/crypto/startup sector of the economy has been going through hard times for a while. Many needed to slowly pull out funds from the bank, further straining the amount of liquid cash on hand.

In 2021, SVB instead decided to invest in mortgage-backed securities with the deposits placed with them. Mortgages are basically very long loans, but they can also be very risky. Mortgage-backed securities are based on mortgages. (The risk surrounding mortgage-backed securities is one reason for the housing crisis of 2008.) It should also be noted that they’re very susceptible to changes in interest rates- if interest rates increase, mortgage-backed securities lose their value.

In 2022, we got severe inflation.

And then, the Federal Reserve’s answer to severe inflation: raising interest rates.

And the mortgage-backed securities that SVB took out became unprofitable!

Now remember how I said that banks need to be able to not only provide customers their deposits on demand, but also give it back with interest? Because the investment in mortgage-backed securities failed, SVB didn’t have money for interest OR deposits, and not enough in reserves to fill the gap. They would be insolvent, if they didn’t come up with a lot of money really, really fast. 

Word spread fast- depositors had already realized that the bank had become insolvent, and they demanded their deposits back. In other words, SVB went through a bank run, losing their money over the course of three days.

The FDIC then stepped in. Now this is a bit of an unusual case, because the FDIC only insures accounts up to $250,000. Most venture capital startups have accounts that are many times that. However, the FDIC has decided (with their own member deposits, not taxpayer money) that all of the venture capital money will be paid. All of the bankers will get their deposits back.

SVB is still closing, however, and shareholders and stockholders will not be compensated for the stock loss.

So while shareholders lose out, every creditor/depositor who invested will be getting their money back. As for Silicon Valley Bank, it’s being administered by the FDIC up until it’s time for it to close down.

[psychostudnia]

“Mark Laita & The Soft White Scandals | BJ Investigates” Video Critique

One day, when I was browsing Youtube, a little thumbnail catches my attention. Video about Soft White Underbelly – that’s a name I haven’t seen in a while. Title “Mark Laita & The Soft White Scandals | BJ Investigates” suggested that mentioned in the title scandals will be analyzed in detail. 

Well, I was taken for a wild ride, not gonna lie. If you are interested, let me tell you more.

We are going to look deeper into fine art photography business to add missing context fom BJ video. I will show a little different point of view to some of Laita’s action.

This is not a hit piece. BJ team found good info. It was presented in a clear fashion. Their opinion about Mark Laita is their own and I’m not here to dispute it, even if I may not fully agree with it. 

The final opinion is left to you, dear reader.

Part I Optics Read after watching the video. Thank you!

From the beginning, and this is not a secret, BJ doesn’t like Marks’ content. She mentions it multiple times (f.eg. 37:12). I’m assuming that Marks’ actions appear too calculated and cold. His photos are considered as too objectifying.

Additionally, she seems influenced by WP article that she uses as a source (https://www.washingtonpost.com/technology/2020/02/27/kelly-mark-laita-videos/).

Knowing a few professional photographers, I think that a true artist usually presents three traits: adrenaline addiction, charisma and resourcefulness with a pinch of a sociopathy. Thanks to that we can get a magnetizing glimpse of reality alien to broad society.     

Part II Fine Art Photography

Making photos can be lucrative. The prices for a professional wedding session or an advertising gig go really high.

In the same time, fine art photography is more of a lottery. Until you capture photo that will catch an eye of art collector or gallery, it can take months, if not years, and a lot of money. You need to cover the cost of travel, studio, models, equipment, software, printing and business license.

“First off, there are no hard and fast rules when it comes to pricing your work. Except, save one – you need to cover your costs. Sounds simple but there are not just the costs of paper, ink, matting, framing, chemistry (that is if you’re a darkroom person), and photo paper. If this is a business for you and not just a hobby then there are a few other costs you have to consider.

Even if you’re not renting studio space, you have the monthly costs of operating out of your home or apartment. You do have to travel to locations to create your work, pick up supplies, and bring your work to the courier or post office for shipping, so there are those expenses like gas, repairs, and oil changes. I’m sure you have insurance on your equipment as well as your home and car and you’ll need to cover those. Don’t forget all those software upgrades so you can keep doing what you do. Those are just a few of the costs you need to think about.”

“Main source of income –

But before you price your prints, you cannot forget the ‘hidden’ costs of running your business. And, more importantly, you want to have a good hard think about the sort of profit you can expect to make. Keeping in mind how much to charge for prints can be challenging, but it’s essential.”

(https://shotkit.com/pricing-photography-prints/)

To professionally price your work, you will probably take into consideration what sells and sell only the best photos. A lot of artists decide to limit amount of album printed copies. Print on demand is also popular option.

 Why printing is such a challenge?

Photographers usually print albums in limited amounts to cut the costs. They need to include labour, data transfer, paper quality variance, print quality options, laminating, shipping and book composition.

The costs add up pretty quickly.

“For a simple answer, a good rule of thumb is to charge customers approximately four times what your total costs equated to”.

(https://shotkit.com/pricing-photography-prints/)

Searching etsy for examples – one of the first results is a 40 pages portfolio of a semi known artist for $88. 

https://www.etsy.com/listing/1516881798/from-exodus-to-genesis-fine-art?ga_order=most_relevant&ga_search_type=all&ga_view_type=gallery&ga_search_query=fine+art+album&ref=sr_gallery-1-89&organic_search_click=1

We can’t forget about the possibility of being sued or fined –  if the artwork is sold directly to customers, photographer will need business license.  Basing on the IRS site:

“An LLC delivers the most flexibility to your art business and puts some much-needed distance between you and your company, protecting you from personal liability in lawsuits.

If you start an LLC, you’ll still technically be self-employed, owe Social Security and Medicare contributions, and pay income tax.

But your personal assets are also protected if the company faces money woes down the line.”

 https://www.irs.gov/businesses/small-businesses-self-employed/limited-liability-company-llc

https://selfgood.com/blog/small-business-license/artist

Part III

Regarding Mark Laita

In this part I will share my view on facts presented by BJ. I strongly recommend you to watch her video, if you still haven’t, as some of my points might appear a little out of contexts without it.

Summary of BJ argument: The first album took a long time to prepare, is hard to buy and really expensive.  

In ‘90 Mark Laita was getting money from advertising (creating mostly for Apple), but his passion project was photographing Appalachia. He had to divide his time between working in LA and traveling to the region. The result of his 8 years of travel there during his spare time was a limited print of the album “Created Equal”.

The reason why the first album is so expensive on ebay, is twofold: limited print around ‘90 and the popularity of Mark Youtube channel. Also, BJ is showing prices for albums that are on sale but aren’t sold yet. It is hard to know if anybody is going to buy them for those prices.   

2. BJ argument: Second and third albums were created in short time and new copies are still available.  

“The Sea” and “The Serpentine” appears to be created just after Laita stopped working for Apple and he could go after other topics full time. I’m assuming photos of fishes and crabs might be less intriguing for wider public. The publisher was also bigger and books were made in time when printing got more digital, less expensive and easier to reproduce.

3. BJ argument: Mark albums have similar topics and are advertised in a cynical way. Mark states that he was bitten by dangerous snake and survived it, despite all odds – which means he is lying on purpose to sell his work.  

Second album was about sea creatures and third one about snakes. Photos have similar style – animals on black background. Could both be made in the same time? Sure, why not? Basing on Mark interviews (one linked below), albums were a result of travelling around the world. Mark probably entered the husbandry environment, got contacted with owners of intriguing species and ended with tones of beautiful pictures. He divided them in two albums. Having two similar books to sell, he needed something to boost sells of “The Serpentine”. He even got a great story to spice thing up a little.     

During one of snake sessions, Mark was bitten by a black mamba, one of the most venomous creatures in the world. Instead of trying to fight for his life, he made a photo of the moment. The fact that the photo was taken then and there suggests that he is a great photographer – he will capture an amazing scene even of cost of his life. He knew that he might die, so why not make something memorable before death? He was done for either way. He survived. Then the black mamba bite and citations of Jung philosophy beside multiple gorgeous photos of snakes were used to advertised the book. – I applaud the grift.

His recently announced album “The Soft Underbelly” will be sold during Christmas – after 3 albums Mark knows when is the best time to sell anything.

4. BJ argument: An LLC for Soft Underbelly was created way ahead of youtube album announcement. It was given, that Soft Underbelly channel will get at least one photo-album – Mark put a lot of time into it. The topic interested him enough to keep going with interviews, even when the channel was demonetized. Taking into account other issues that aroused during the channel existence, having an LLC company was a must. It would help with judicial system if needed and shield him from losing any money not related to the channel. Why the LLC was created in Nevada? No idea. BJ is right pointing it out.

5. BJ argument : The most scandalous interviewee are on the album cover to advertise it. Of course, Mark would include photos stories of the most viewed YT videos on his channel. I just want to point out, that none of the most popular photos are in any way differentiated from others that are included on the cover. You need to know interviewee faces to link it to their scandals.

6. BJ argument : The GoFund me campaigns are shady. The GoFundMe campaigns might be a scam. Not enough info is known to know it for sure though. However, the campaign descriptions clearly state that some of the money goes for Mark directly to support work related with the YT channel. Additionally, in WP article it was pointed out that the donation with a clearly stated recipient, where passed along. One of the interviewed girl said that Laita scammed her, but it looked rather that she used it as a marketing stunt for her new tik-tok account. According to Laita, he shared what she was owned.   

7. BJ argument: Interviews are not proof-checked. If interviewee lies, it isn’t Laita fault. He is not there to squeeze the truth out of people. He isn’t also trained journalist or psychologist. He tries to start people to talk and then gives them space. Does his questions are sometimes loaded? Yes. People met at Skid Row have it tough.  

8. BJ Argument: “I’m not a helping channel” As the WP article states: “Money isn’t curative for the type of trauma someone like Kelly experienced, Powell said. She needs assistance with finding housing, securing employment and attending counseling to help her cope with pain. People like Kelly need a community that consists of professionals and former sex-trafficking survivors to pull her forward,” That is why Mark repeats ad infinitum that he is not a helping channel. He is paying interviewees for a few hours of their time. If someone doesn’t want to answer a question, he changes the subject. He offers them a moment of his full attention, a true concentration on them and their words. He is not objectifying those people more than any article in popular magazine.

9. BJ argument: Mike objectifies people he photographs. I can’t see the objectifying that BJ says Mark is guilty off. The photos show those people like Mike met them on the street or how they appeared for interview. It might be uncomfortable, seeing someone with their boobs out or under the influence of drugs. But Mark isn’t there to offer anything more than a place to vent because he just can’t. He never promised any of them more than he is offering. Moreover, photographers can make uncomfortable photos to show you naked underbelly of our society. Mark is not the only one:

Part IV Conclusion

I’ve added some additional photography background and different perspective for some of BJ points. I have nothing against her conclusion. This is not a piece to change her mind. I wrote it because her video moved me. I also have nothing against Mark Laita. I think he knows how to make an interesting photo. His interviews are usually too triggering for me. I’m not going to buy his album. But I see his action in less critical way.

 Life is hard.

Reader, keep safe and don’t let anyone tell you what to think.

[btsandarmyismylife]

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Negotiating the sale of your car wash can be the deciding factor in whether or not it sells for the highest price, which is why it’s essential to master the art of negotiation. Successful car wash sellers prepare well in advance and familiarise themselves with common negotiation tactics and strategies. It’s best to stay informed and be aware of any potential buyer biases or interests that could have an impact on the negotiations. This will help you to craft an effective response and counteroffer if the buyer pushes for a lower price. Additionally, gaining an in-depth understanding of the prospective buyer’s financial resources and situation is key to getting the most money out of a car wash sale.

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When it comes to marketing your car wash for the best price, it’s important to cover all your bases. Start by creating a detailed marketing plan that includes both online and offline tactics. Additionally, gain a better understanding of the different types of buyers in order to craft effective messaging and design effective advertising materials that suit different interests. Use targeted advertising on social media platforms to reach audiences most likely to purchase a car wash in your area. In addition, consider distributing flyers in the area to draw attention and boost your company’s visibility. Finally, as you promote your car wash, make sure to demonstrate its value and remind prospective buyers why they should choose it over other available options.

Lessons Learned from Successful Car Wash Sellers

Successful car wash sellers have a lot to offer in terms of lessons and insight. Conducting market research is key, as it will allow you to determine the true value of your car wash and set an appropriate list price. Additionally, it’s essential to create an effective marketing strategy that takes advantage of different types of promotional techniques, such as social media, flyers, and online banners. Furthermore, knowing the art of negotiation will enable you to maximise your car wash sale price. Finally, successful car wash sellers also emphasise the importance of staying motivated and persistent, especially during setbacks. Expansion plans have gone awry and customers have gone astray, yet these individuals prevail in the face of adversity – making lessons learned from successful car wash sellers invaluable.

Conclusion

The quickest and easiest way to sell your car wash is to enlist the help of a professional. By utilizing the expertise of an experienced car wash seller, you can save time and money, and ensure that you get the best results possible. With the right preparation and the right resources, you can maximize your chances of getting the best price and the quickest sale. Investing in a professional service may ultimately save you time, money, and hassle in the long run.

[housesatlanta]

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[cinnamonest]

Zhongli (Genshin Impact) - Yandere Profile

This man's voice has a POWER over me I SWEAR

tws: yandere, mentions of n/sfw

tws (under the cut): very ddlg-esque vibes, sorta? infantilization, noncon

I'm sorry I get such strong daddy vibes it unintentionally went in this direction, hope that isn't too bad lmao

I’m working on all the prompts I’ve gotten in! I’ve gotten a few so I’ll be working on those.

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What are they generally like? Lucid, aware? Obsessive? How do they behave?

He's one that might be likely to misunderstand his feelings at first, think that he sees himself as a mentor or maybe even an authority figure, someone to guide you and teach you and serve as a dependable partner to your travels. As time goes on, and he begins to recognize how utterly flustered he gets around you, he's forced to acknowledge the actual feelings he has.

While some yanderes with a slight aloofness or pride to them get worse when in love, such as Childe or Kaeya, his drops completely. You bring out a softer side of him, really, one that's protective and tender and loving, so very loving, wanting to be around you, with you. He's certainly an obsessive, protective type, ultimately allowing his protective nature to get the better of him as he demands to know everything you've done, account for your location at every moment, constantly keep track of your habits, inquire about very personal details of your life. If he realizes you're bothered by it, he might draw back a bit, but he's convinced that that's just your perception, that it's necessary, truly, and not at all unusual.

Pet names. Particularly fond of love, darling, and angel. Sweet things that represent what you mean to him -- something precious, something to represent his adoration and idolization.

The primary form of delusion comes from a perception of you. He's obsessive, and idolizes you to an extent. He perceives you as pure, innocent, angelic. The thing is, this applies regardless of whether or not you actually are. If you are, it will solidify the idea, but even if you're not, he will find a way to see you so, anyway. No matter how wise you are, no, you're naive. No matter how capable you are, no, you're weak and fragile. No matter how experienced you may be, no, you're pure. He can always keep this delusion running by bringing into account age and comparison - you'll never be as strong as him, so you might as well be frail and weak. You'll never have lived as long as him, so really, do you think there's that much difference between you and a child, when compared to someone like himself?

How likely are they to kidnap their darling? How quickly will they do so?

Actually highly likely, and pretty quickly. As he observes you, it becomes very clear to him how very fragile you are, how naive you are, you are quite literally too pure, too angelic, to be living in this world with such beings as humans. Fragile, beautiful little things have a place where they belong - protected. Where do we put fragile, beautiful things? We put them behind glass, behind ropes, in pretty cages, in secluded rooms. It's only natural that you, too, need a similar environment.

He's one of the ones that will... Elegantly kidnap you, as odd as it sounds. He's not a brute that would do something horrendous like knocking you out or drugging you, no, he'll find an excuse for you to come to his abode, invite you in, and you'll walk in none the wiser. Only after your in, and the doors close, does he guide you to your new room, calmly explaining that he's come to the realization that you're too fragile to continue your journey, and ought to simply give up on your travels. He knows you'll be upset at first. Like a child being denied, you'll get pouty, moody, you might cry, you might lash out at him. It's predictable. He'll dry your eyes and calm you down, brushing off any harsh words you may have, holding your wrists in his hands when you try to push him away, softly reassuring you that it will all be alright, that you're safe now, and you'll learn to accept this with time.

How difficult is it to escape from them? How do they keep you restrained? How do they deal with attempted escape? 

He would want something... elaborate. He's a man with taste for the most beautiful of things, including yourself, and he won't settle for something as simple as a chain or ropes. No, that would be too simple and brutish, and you, one of the finest things in his life, deserve something equally beautiful and delicate.

He's one of the ones that would go to a great deal of preparation for your arrival. He'd have a room prepared just for you, very ornate, beautifully tailored to you -- the walls your favorite color, the bed made of the same material as your old one, and the whole room completely filled with things you're certain you never even told him you liked. Clothes that fit perfectly to your body. It's frightening how perfect it is, because you know he had to go out of his way to acquire the information to achieve such perfection, but you have no idea how.

Everything about it elegant and detailed, right down to the series of ornate locks on the door. They're some of the sturdiest available, made with essentially unbreakable metal alloys and the most intricate lock systems to date. The windows don't open, and he'd certainly find some way to ensure escape through them isn't an option -- perhaps metal bars, perhaps an unbreakable glass substitute, perhaps merely locating your new home right on the edge of one of Liyue's most beautiful mountains, so that if you were to go out the window you'd plummet to the earth below. He's a bit delusional, but he's not stupid, and he will think through every possibility. Every little detail he needs to keep you safe and confined.

He's certain that, perfect as it is, this room is all you will ever need to be happy. Should you desire anything else, he can bring it to you. You'll never have to leave.

So it goes without saying that it would be exceptionally difficult to escape him. You'd have to find a way through the locks, for which your best bet would be to get some hair pins or tiny writing utensils. Even if you managed it, though, which would frankly be a very difficult feat, you'll have to deal with staying free. Zhongli has ties to the people of Liyue as a whole, and needless to say, he has eyes everywhere. You can't risk appearing in the harbor area, there will be far too many people who would immediately report you, and you'd just be walking right to him anyhow. The surrounding areas also have ties to him, so you'd want to try and reach Mondstadt, as far as it is, which is a difficult travel by foot all alone. You won't get far. He's faster, he's wiser, and he will find you long before you could ever hope to make it there.

However, he's not quite as angry as some yanderes would be about it. He doesn't take your escape personally, no, he blames himself, only calculating his own mistakes as to how it happened. He sees you as something like... a little runaway pet, so naive and dull that you don't know any better than to go wandering off. Or perhaps like a child, just sheepishly curious and wanting to explore, not knowing the dangers of the world. Or, perhaps...

"I haven't been giving you enough attention, have I? That's why you pulled this little act of rebellion... you're hurt by my negligence and wanted to be reassured of my care for you. I'm so sorry... I understand now, love. This was my fault. I've been so caught up with work... I'll delegate some tasks to my workers, and I'll be able to spend more time with you from now on, alright? Don't worry, I'm not angry, I'll take full responsibility. I'll be sure to make it up to you... now, let's go home."

How easy are they to trick, deceive, or manipulate?

Much like Childe or Venti or anyone who has been around as long as he has, you really don't stand a chance. He's an incredibly perceptive man. There's not much to say on the matter, as any attempts will be quickly shut down.

He'd find it amusing, really. Like a child trying to lie, but the evidence is all over their face and hands - it's that obvious to him. It's cute enough that he almost hates having to discipline you for it, but, you have to learn.

How lenient are they? What privileges can you have, and what will you be denied?

He wants his little angel to be safe - and unfortunately, you, being so naive and empty headed, don't always know what's best for you. He knows rules can be hard to follow perfectly, but they're there to keep you safe.

Extremely strict, will want to monitor every moment of your life, every little movement you take, and will insist on watching over you in every task. He'll pick out everything you wear, everything you eat.

Occasionally, if you ask very sweetly, he may take you out for walks in Liyue. Honestly, he'd be lying if he said he didn't enjoy taking you to what he knows are the finest locations, shops with the highest level of craftsmanship, restaurants with a high price tag and reputable food. He enjoys showing off his refined tastes and discerning selective abilities. And honestly? There's a certain... Powerful feeling to knowing you're made aware of the costs when he makes high purchases in front of you... even if you don't realize he's not always actually the one paying for it, or that he forgot mora again but promises the owner to pay later - but he'll make sure you don't know that. You hear the numbers, and your eyebrows raise, your eyes widen. You'd nearly faint if that total was on your responsibility, and he knows that. Which is why he'll simply smile at you, and tell you you're worth every last Mora. He'll buy you nearly anything you may desire. It seems like leniency, but in reality, it's his subtle way of locking control and dependency over you, making you respect him, making you love him.

"Don't worry, love. It's not a lot... Not to me, at least. Even if it were, my angel only deserves the best, no?"

What kind of rules do they have? What kind of punishment would they use?

Oh dear. Again, he's very strict, and wants to monitor everything you do, every little aspect of your life. He decides what you eat, portioning your meals to make sure you're eating enough, he worries about you going hungry during your travels, but luckily you'll never have to worry about that again. If you have a sweet tooth, he'll sigh and worry about your teeth and health, but he'll make sure to account for a little bit of sugar in your day, and will even pick up little treats from some of the most reputable places in Liyue.

He picks out clothes for you with each day. They're not... Normal clothes, per se. Certainly not what you'd normally wear on your travels. And it's not like anyone will see you except him - which is exactly why you'll have clothes he would never want anyone else to see you in. Frilly, lacey things, somehow both highly sexualized but also incredibly infantile, soft pinks, baby blues, gentle off-whites. They accentuate the curves of your body so perfectly, while just barely letting him see the parts of you normally kept hidden.

You'll have a schedule - a bath time, a bedtime, a wake-up time. He's weak to your requests, though, and may let you stay up a little late every now and then, or sleep in just a bit, if you make that soft pouting face and beg. He'll insist on bathing you, dressing you, so that you don't have to - and can't even if you wanted to - lift a finger even to wash yourself or put your clothes on.

He has a set of rules for you, very simple ones he hopes you can easily follow. No trying to leave. No doing anything dangerous. No talking to strangers when you go out. You must hold his hand whenever you're walking together, don't go wandering off.

He'll feel ashamed of the thought for a while, but eventually he'll cave and give into the desire, no, the security precaution, of a nice little collar for you. It's not too embarrassing, no, he went out of his way to find one that was delicate, almost like a necklace, made with fine materials, the engraving only visible up close. If you look closely, though, it clearly bears his name.

Breaking the rules is expected, he anticipates it. You're not the brightest, he might even view it as a mistake. A benefit is that you can easily pass it off as simply forgotten, or an accident. Hence, he's not too harsh - normally. He'll sigh, forgive you, and pat your head, contemplating how to prevent your access in the future.

Perhaps you wriggled out of his hand and ran off while walking? You were just excited, distracted, like a child. He might be able to procure a small leash, one that wouldn't be immediately obvious or embarrassing, to attach to your collar. Perhaps some cuff-like links to latch your arm to his.

You forgot the rule about not handling the kitchen knives and cut yourself? He'll have to get some kind of lock and simply keep them safely away from you. No big deal. Any measures are worth your safety.

If you push the limits, or have a defiant attitude, he might reach the point of punishment. As for not-unwholesome things, this would usually include taking away privileges, such as walks or sweets, but overall, punishment will mostly come in more impure forms.

How do they deal with rivals, or perceived rivals? Will they get rid of them? Will they kill them themselves, or find another way?

Not too much to say here - he has connections. He doesn't need to dirty his own hands. For all his supposed humility, if he truly dislikes someone, they're no more significant than an insect to him. He has no reservations about ridding the world of people who, in his mind, are obviously trying to deceive you, abuse you, corrupt you.

Thankfully, he is very capable of keeping a neutral face, even when he feels laughter building up. It would probably look strange if he were smiling over the newest body to come into his parlor.

How easy is it to make them mad? What does their anger look like?

It's a slow buildup. He views restraint as a virtue, and looks down upon those who lack control over their own tempers. He's a man who strives to meet his own standards of character, and that very much applies to self control and ability to maintain a controlled demeanor, even when he feels a bit of frustration due to you being intentionally and deliberately defiant.

It's his responsibility to be a good role model for you and make sure you understand how to behave. However, in the end, he's very keen on properness and rules. If you have a tendency towards brattiness and pushing your limits, you may drive him to a boiling point.

However, even when expressing his anger, he's remarkably controlled. It's very mature, really. Nonetheless, he will have you shivering and tearful with his voice alone, booming with that depth that reverberates off the walls, that vibrates against your very core. His true anger is one that can strike fear even in the most courageous individuals - he's terrifying when he wants to be, fierce and intimidating, a sort of power just eminates from him.

Nonetheless, it's quick, he calms down very quickly, wipes the tears from your eyes, and sighs.

"I do hate having to be firm with you... but I can't have you thinking you can just act however you want. You understand that, don't you?"

So they see you as above them, beneath them, or equal to them?

Both? It's difficult to describe. You're an angel to him. You're the finest work of art, the most intricate creation, the kind of person whose body and likeness deserves to be preserved in art and tradition, one of those women who should be renowned for beauty even centuries long after you're gone from the earth. It's almost goddess-like. At the same time, there's a beautiful, tragic duality to your essence, he thinks. A fragility and a dependency that leaves you in need, but an inherent status of perfection that makes you deserve the utmost perfect of care. You need to be coddled, cared for, protected, but you deserve it. Like a deity incarnated into a mere fragile human form, a queen that needs support to retain her grace.

Unlike some, he doesn't view his care and protection as some kind of favor that should be repaid with your gratitude, no, really, he is grateful that he is the one who is even deserving of being your caretaker, your provider, your lover.

Even if he is the one who determined that he deserves that role.

How determined are they for you to love them? How hard will they try to make it happen? Or are they content just having you?

He's convinced that he can show you that he is your protector, your lover, that it's fate itself that has locked you together, not just his own will.

And he is, above all else, patient. One of the most patient you could encounter. You think a year is a long time? It's nothing to him. A century for you? More than a lifetime. For him? Nothing. He can and will wait, as long as it takes, and he will never falter in his continual care. He'll remind you frequently, he'll shower you in affection, but if you don't return it? It's not that bad. He has all the time in the world to fix you.

Bonus: Is there anything that makes them unique, in comparison to other yanderes?

Moraless Sugar daddy

But in all seriousness, he is definitely of the gift-giving love language. He sees beautiful things, and beautiful things make him think of you! It's sweet, he thinks. So many little things he sees throughout his day make him think of you, and he has to have all of them, see your face when he gives them to you. He likes making you happy, for one, but he'd be lying if he said there wasn't a sort of satisfactory pride he gets from the power dynamic of it all. He wants to be the sole source of provision in your life, he wants your dependency.

If we're talking prior to the events of the game, it will be even more extreme. He treats it like it's truly nothing, throwing around massive purchases, seemingly as if he's not thinking about it at all. But he is - rest assured, he's taking it into consideration, at least, that is, how it will affect your attitude and perception of him.

General perverseness: how sexual of a person are they? What’s their drive like? How touchy do they get? Do they have any reservations about sexuality?

On the reserved side. He'd never conduct himself improperly in public, of course. It's out of the question. He cares about proper behavior and public image, and he'd never behave in a vulgar manner.

Even in private, he's certainly one of the ones that struggles with a certain guilt. To some degree, he would feel like you're so innocent and pure that he doesn't want to corrupt you. He goes through stages. First, he'll lie to himself, telling himself that the feelings he has for you are simply protective, platonic, a natural sense of responsibility for you. That becomes more and more difficult to convince himself of, the more excited he becomes around you, the more he finds his eyes drawn to whatever bits of skin are exposed on your body, finding himself drifting off to impure thoughts, trying to push them away. 

Second, once he's forced to acknowledge the true nature of these feelings, he'll simply practice restraint, something he's rather good at in this area. He tries, he really does. He tells himself he can't do something so impure, that it would violate you, that he should be ashamed of himself for it. It becomes more and more and more difficult to restrain himself with time, the feelings rising and the thoughts become more difficult to push away, eventually entertaining the fantasies in his head in an attempt to rid himself of the urge in real life. It doesn't work, no, it only makes the urges worse, and he can't be around you without his body nearly commanding him to do something. And finally, he'll take a different stance entirely, telling himself that, no, it's not going to corrupt you, rather, it's taking care of you. If he really wants to love you, really wants to care for all of your needs, then surely that would include your physical needs, and therefore, really, it would be wrong of him not to help you.

As that shift in viewpoints goes on, he'll become more and more bold, hands lingering just a little longer, face coming just a little closer. It's a slow build of tension, just waiting to boil over. 

How forceful are they? Do they care about your willingness?

He understands you're nervous. Again, no matter how experienced you are, somehow in his head he makes it out to be insignificant. Even if you've had other relationships, he convinces himself - and tries to convince you - that they were inadequate, they didn't care about you, not like he does. And he'll treat it as that -- any resistance you put up is nervousness, nothing more, nothing less. He'll reassure you a million times that you won't feel pain, that he'll be gentle, that you'll feel good, even if his size and strength frankly is rather intimidating regardless of experience. He'll keep cooing in your ear, softly whispering reassurance, softly running hands over your skin, holding you in place as the last inch stretches you apart. 

What sort of kinks or fetishes do they have, or would they fill?

Infantilization

Again, no matter how smart, experienced, and capable you may be, you're none of those things to him. You're a fragile, little thing. He has to take care of you at all times. It may not be evident at first, and he himself likely doesn't fully realize it, but there is something highly sexual to this for him. Caring for you puts him in a position of dominance, control. It gives him access to your privacy, dressing you up, fingers running over your skin, bathing you, watching your skin glisten. He'll talk to you in this way, too, often softly, remarking every little way in which you need him, and even condescendingly so. He wants you to be his, not only in a sense of love, but of possession.

Oral

Primarily giving. Even on its own, he loves the taste, but the effect it has on you makes it that much better. He loves anything that forces you to depend on him entirely for pleasure, that puts you at his mercy. And he'll be torturous about it too, restraining your arms and legs so you can't control anything, hold your hips down so you can't roll into him, so that only he can determine exactly how much pressure and speed you get. And he won't rush it, no, he'll go so slowly it's torturous, and telling you very simply that if you want any more, you'll have to beg.

Edging

For a variety of reasons. The power trip is as exhilarating as it is pleasurable, but he also loves watching your body writhe. Each little muscle that moves under the flesh when your arms strain against his hand holding your wrists together, the convulsing of your stomach muscles, the way your toes curl and legs spasm and the sweet little whimpers you make when he draws back just short of your high. He's mastered watching your reactions, knowing exactly when to stop, even if you try to mask it. He'll want you to tell him, though, nonetheless, tell him when you're close, if for nothing else but the sense of you obeying his commands.

Collaring

Similarly to infantilization, it gives him something of a sense of control, of possession. He loves seeing his name engraved on it, marking the whole of your being with his ownership. In his somewhat rare moments of roughness, he'll want to pull on it, use it to draw you towards him, in a moment of your defiance, in particular. If you're being mouthy, whiny, disobedient, and you finally make him snap, especially if you try to walk away from him, he'll yank you back with force, pulling you close to him, and when the force of it shuts you up, changes your demeanor, forces you to acknowledge your submission - the satisfaction he'll get from that is incomparable.

How do they feel about pregnancy or babies? Do they want them?

As much as he likes the idea, to him, you're already like a child, naive and fragile. Could your body even handle a pregnancy, a birth? He'd likely try to avoid it, but in the end, if it happened by accident anyway, rest assured you'd be getting the best care of any woman to ever be pregnant in Teyvat, and he'd do everything in his power to ensure you were always comfortable, taking his caretaking to another level, almost never even letting you get up, insisting you stay still and calm and needy.

What kind of (nsfw) punishments would they use?

He'd be one to pull the "it doesn't hurt you as much as it does me" line, but really, even if he refuses to admit it to his own self, having you bent over his lap is just as much for his own enjoyment as it is a disciplinary measure. It's more humiliating than it is painful -- he'd hold back, afraid of hurting you with his strength, but taking in every little flinch and whimper you make as he brings his hand down on your ass, keeping your head pressed down, kneading at the flesh. He'd insist it's the most effective punishment measure, but you can feel the hard-on digging into your stomach. The worse the behavior, the worse the beating, but every time, after it's over, he'll hold you upright, wiping the tears from your eyes and asking you if you learned you lesson, if you intend to do it again, and smiling when you insist you won't.

What body parts of their darling do they like the most?

Your skin. It's beautiful, and he loves the way that light from the moon and sun look on your naked form. He loves the way your skin feels, soft and delicate, smooth, so paper thin and fragile, and so, so deliciously prone to showing marks from the slightest of harm - a simple smack can make the plump flesh darkened and reddened, the lightest suckling will leave beautiful hickeys all down your neck and chest. There are so many ways to mark his property, to stake a visible claim all over you, it's irresistible.

He also will go out of his way, when picking out all the things he wants you to wear, to find colors that best go with your skin tone, in a contrasting sense - particularly lacey, sheer things that contrast very well, so he can see your soft flesh perfectly defined against the little lace patterns.

[shiningdesignersreflections]

Chapter 2: Orbit of Stars

Narrated by Leonid.

Narrator: I’ve recently been flooded with memories of the past, and what used to be dreams has become real.

Narrator: I haven’t felt tired for a long time. I no longer need food or sleep.

Narrator: My boat is filled with design sketches. I’ve already gotten rid of my telescope and storage bin to make room for them.

Narrator: I haven’t fallen asleep, so how am I dreaming?

Narrator: I’m haunted by my own confusion, and I search for answers.

Choose either “You’re not going to stargaze?” or “You look pretty lost.”

If “stargaze,” ...

You:  You’re not going to stargaze?

If “lost,” ...

You: You look pretty lost.

--

Narrator: A vision of my dream appeared before my eyes, and I sighed.

Leonid: Maybe it’s not just a nightmare.

Leonid: It’s a future about to become reality.

Narrator: Ever since my manuscript became known to Miraland, there have been endless disputes.

Narrator: Our world knows the power of truth, and it pays a high price for chasing after it. It truly is admirable.

Narrator: But that has nothing to do with me. I finally fulfilled my wish and followed the orbit into the sea of stars.

Narrator: I was dazzled by the splendor of the endless starlight.

Narrator: The stars intertwined. Starlight came in waves, starting with one twinkling star and expanding to thousands more.

Narrator: A unique symphony played in that strange ocean, and I was its only audience member.

Narrator: The sea of stars opened its arms to me, and my consciousness merged with it. The stars surrounded me and whispered the world’s greatest truths.

Narrator: In this dimension, I didn’t need to know anything about someone’s life. Everything could be summarized into simple data.

Narrator: Through the stars’ trajectories and changes in brightness, I saw the laws of destiny and order.

Narrator: My observation of it had been superficial at best. I saw only lines and points, but I didn’t grasp their meaning.

Narrator: I was not only unaware. I was complacent.

Narrator: I lamented over how ignorant I had been.

Narrator: I was like a child who just learned to walk tirelessly in every corner of a backyard.

Narrator: Observe, theorize, revise, change trajectories, confirm results... I was happy.

Narrator: The starry sky, the ocean, and all of the universe’s endless changes are on a predetermined trajectory at the tip of my pen.

Narrator: It was correct every time. Every single time.

Narrator: But the fact that it was always right quickly frustrated me.

Narrator: I thought of the starlight that once awed me. I could calculate how it shone during its prime all the way until its death.

Narrator: How did not even one star defy my expectations? Why do they all fade and die?

Narrator: I looked at the angel on the paper. Her white wings were holy, and she held them perfectly. But I couldn’t see their beauty.

Narrator: I felt lost, unsatisfied. I hungered for the unknown.

Narrator: From then on, I began to pay close attention to those bizarre dreams.

Narrator: I explored the cause of my dreams. I sailed through countless seas until I finally reached this dark, unfamiliar place.

Narrator: I found the answer I’ve been seeking.

Choose either “Where is this?” or “Looks dangerous.”

If “where,” ...

You: What is this place?

Leonid: The abyss. Darkness gathered here.

If “dangerous,” ...

You: But it looks dangerous.

Leonid: I didn’t want to see the stars. I knew them too well. I wanted to discover something new, so I was attracted to the darkness.

--

Narrator: Shouts faintly emerged from below the sea. They gently stirred the water, creating ripples that subtly reflected the starlight.

Narrator: I could barely distinguish those familiar voices. They echoed in my dreams, guiding me here.

Narrator: What will I find? I was filled with anticipation and excitement, which I had not felt for a long time.

Narrator: As I leaned toward the sea, the turbid whirlpool swallowed my reflection little by little.

You: Leonid!

Narrator: I turned my back on the starlight, opened my arms to the abyss, and fell.

Chapter 1

Chapter 3

Chapter 4

Chapter 5