#yield play investment

[ja3yun]

The Doll House | Park Sunghoon

doll!sunghoon x fem!reader warnings: smut (mdni), unprotected sex, cream pie, oral (f.rec), fingering, dom!hoon (i didn't mean this, it just happened), begging but not really, horror elements, anything else lmk! wc: 8.9k synopsis: once you find out the dolls' secret, you're on the hunt to find out how they became this way. in the library you stumble across something and you're left alone with park sunghoon who promises to keep your rendezvous with jaeyun a secret from their owner, but not without something in return jaeyun | masterlist | jongseong a/n: hi! this is the second installation of this series and i'm enjoying writing it so so much! there's a little bit of the lore in here and i tried to put in some little nuggets like word play and everything to give you guys some hints! i hope you enjoy and as always, likes, comments, feedback, and reblogs are always appreciated <3

In the week following your encounter with Jaeyun, you've stirred something deep within him. Whenever possible, he finds his way to your side, lending himself to you as he helps you with your daily chores, holding onto your hand when you sit down for some relaxation time between cleaning and cooking, and most importantly - at least for him - he’s been fucking you like crazy.

Something about last week made him feel alive, stronger than he had ever felt before, and he wanted to have that feeling ignited within him almost every day. He coaxed you into having sex a second time around by using those beautiful round eyes to pull at your heartstrings and break your resolve and from then your embarrassment subsided and you used one another to your heart's desire.

Having sex with a doll puts you in the same bracket as those lonely middle-aged men who have no friends and find solace with their rubber girlfriends, which is quite embarrassing. But this is different, you like to think, Jaeyun is for all intent and purpose alive and might as well be a real human.

Sure, he doesn’t have internal organs, his skin is made from thermoplastic elastomer, and his doll shell is made from durable porcelain with insulated heat, but he’s as real as they come. You did ask him how he can get hard and fill you up to the brim with his faux seed, but he says it’s just the way he’s designed. 

Soonyeol is a kinky bitch and she knew exactly what she was doing when she purchased these specific dolls.

You break Soonyeol’s rules almost every day because of him though, venturing into his room to fuck him silly, both of you seeking pleasure and comfort in each other's presence, holding one another close late into the night, swapping stories and laughter; it is nice to have someone to talk to, even if it’s in hushed tones.

Your inquiries into his origins and existence yield no concrete answers; after all, he's only been "alive" for a short time and consequently doesn’t know much about himself, his only offering is to explain that Heeseung and Jongseong know the most out of the four of them. And with your promise to Jaeyun to keep his slip-up of spilling the beans to you a secret from his brothers, seeking clarification from the other dolls remains off-limits.

That doll can get you to do anything he asks if he wants to and it’s almost embarrassing to admit.

As you go about your daily routines, you maintain a facade of normalcy, interacting with the other three dolls just as you did before discovering their secret. You speak to them as if they were merely inanimate objects, not expecting any response in return.

Despite your efforts to remain composed, a sense of unease creeps in the longer you’re in the room with any of them that isn’t Jaeyun. You can't shake the feeling that their eyes are following you, tracking your every move with an unsettling intensity. What once was blissful ignorance is now hyper-awareness. 

At times, you catch glimpses of movement out of the corner of your eye, only to find objects mysteriously rearranged or misplaced when you turn to investigate. It's a subtle form of mischief, one that leaves you feeling disconcerted and off-balance, unsure of what other tricks they may have up their sleeves.

Jaeyun assures you time and time again that none of his brothers would act in malice, however, his words fail to instil any comfort, especially around Heeseung. 

From the moment you arrived at the mansion, Heeseung had captivated you with an inexplicable allure, drawing you in with an intensity that bordered on hypnotic. It was as if he possessed a power unlike any of the other dolls. He was the one that got you to say yes to staying, you know it.

But beneath that surface charm, there's a darkness that unsettles you, a sense of malevolence that lingers in the air whenever he's near. You can't quite put your finger on it, but there's a palpable sense of foreboding that hangs over your interactions with him, like a shadow creeping across your consciousness. He is dangerous and the soul - or whatever it is that he has that brings his doll to life - is entrenched in a dark cloud, one that you want to steer clear of for the rest of your time.

Despite your reservations, you find yourself drawn to Heeseung, unable to resist the pull of his enigmatic presence. But with each passing day, the feeling of unease only grows stronger, leaving you to wonder what secrets lie hidden beneath his doll facade.

You’re cleaning the library and the sun is beaming through the large windows, the hot sun adding an uncomfortable heat to your body.

You continue regardless, wiping your brow and dusting down the shelves with a lime green feather duster you found hidden in the kitchen cupboard. You wanted to do a good job but the library is extensive with wall-to-wall shelves filled with books ranging from present to pre-world war one and you’ll be damned if you’re cleaning each book one at a time; the feather duster will be your new best friend.

As you make your way toward the desk positioned in the centre of the room, a surge of curiosity washes over you, compelling you to indulge in a bit of snooping. The allure of uncovering secrets about the mansion and its mysterious owner, Soonyeol, proves irresistible, fueling your determination to explore further.

With cautious steps, you approach the desk, scanning its surface for any signs of hidden compartments or concealed documents. Your fingers itch with curiosity as you reach for the drawers, your heart pounding with excitement and trepidation. If there are any clues to be found, surely they would be nestled within the confines of this desk.

It’s ridiculous how exciting you find all of this like you’re in some James Bond movie about to uncover the deep secrets of the villain. It’s not that deep but you need to find some excitement in the quiet of this home, so why not make snooping around the fun part of your day?

Beside Jaeyun, of course. 

When Jaeyun is with you, you don’t pry into the mansion, scared that he will take it the wrong way, like you’re trying to expose the brothers and their minder.

Listen to yourself, Y/N. You’re worried about a doll’s feelings, you think to yourself and cringe. It’s concerning how much you don’t want to hurt the doll but that’s just the effect he has on you.

Your fingers wrap around the drawer handles, eagerness flowing through you as you prepare to reveal whatever mysteries may be hidden inside. You gently tug on the drawers, but to your dismay, they remain firmly closed, guarding their contents from prying eyes.

Frowning in frustration, you give the handles a harder shake, trying to remove whatever mechanism is keeping them locked. Despite your attempts, the drawers refuse to move, it's secrets tantalisingly out of reach.

“Shit,” you murmur, trying one more time.

Your gaze wanders over the desk, looking for any sign of a key or secret compartment that may lead to the contents of the drawers. Your pulse rushes with excitement as you dig through the desk, brushing your fingertips around the edges in search of a secret latch or trapdoor.

However, as you scan every inch of the desk, your search provides no results, leaving you feeling irritated and dissatisfied. There must be some way to get those drawers open, there’s no way if there wasn’t something secret inside, some form of incriminating evidence about Soonyeol, that she would keep them locked up. 

As you stand before the locked drawers, your mind flows with questions regarding Soonyeol's occupation and the mystery surrounding her actual identity. The mansion's vintage furnishings and rows of ancient porcelain dolls appear to point to a career in antique collecting, but an ongoing feeling of anxiety suggests darker possibilities. If she was a mere collector, how on earth did she manage to obtain four dolls who are alive? Is she just insanely clued up on possessed dolls and where to find them on eBay?

You look around the room to see if any pictures are hung suspiciously, all those nights of binge-watching Sherlock Holmes are coming in handy because you know now that pictures almost always hold either a safe or a taped-up key behind them.

You meticulously inspect each picture frame in the library, your eyes scanning for any signs of hidden compartments or concealed keys. You check portrait after portrait, your fingers tracing along the edges of each frame, but your efforts yield no results. Disappointment threatens to overwhelm you as you realise that your search has so far been fruitless.

Why is this proving to be so difficult? Surely there has to be something you can scope out, even a bobby pin would suffice at this point so you can pick at the locks.

Just as you're about to give up hope, your eyes fall upon an unusual floor-length portrait hanging inconspicuously on the far wall. It depicts the bizarre scene of a lamb with a human body, eating its sheep counterparts. It’s an unsettling fusion of outlandish and grotesque. You can't help but grimace at the tasteless decor choice, wondering what possessed Soonyeol to hang such a peculiar painting in her library. 

“Seriously? She is one fucked up lady,” you wince to yourself, wondering why she couldn’t just have a poster of some kittens or literally anything else.

Despite your feelings of unease, curiosity overcomes you, and you move forward to inspect the painting more closely. As you reach out to touch the frame, your fingers brush over the edge, and you notice that it seems there is a gap between it and the wall, as if there is something hidden behind it.

With your heart pumping from anticipation, you carefully pull the picture from the wall, exposing a dark wooden door that is concealed behind it. Your breath catches in your throat as you realise that this may be the breakthrough you've been waiting for. With shaky hands, you reach for the rusted doorknob and give it a cautious jiggle.

But just like the locked drawers, the door remains firmly sealed shut, thwarting your attempts to uncover its secrets. You groan out loud, tossing your head back and shutting your eyes in frustration. 

"What has a girl gotta do to find out what the fuck is going on in this place?" you mutter under your breath, your voice tinged with frustration and determination. You refuse to be deterred by this setback, knowing that you're not one to give up easily.

Gathering your resolve, you kneel down to inspect the door handle, your fingers tracing the contours of the keyhole with a sense of anticipation. You can feel the weight of the unknown pressing down on you, the tension in the air palpable as you prepare to uncover whatever secrets lie beyond this enigmatic door.

As you peer inside the keyhole, your breath catches in your throat, your eyes straining to penetrate the darkness that shrouds the room. Every fibre of your being is on high alert, a sense of anticipation tingling at the back of your mind. 

But then, just as you begin to make out the faintest hint of movement within the darkness, something catches your eye - a faint glimmer of red light flickering like a flame from within the depths of the keyhole. Your heart skips a beat as a surge of apprehension courses through you, a sense of foreboding tightening its grip on your chest. 

What is that? 

Your heartbeat quickens as you realise whatever it is, it’s not good and it’s trapped behind that door for a reason. You squint your eyes further, trying to focus on the faint shapes you can see throughout the room but it’s proving difficult, the red beam being your only sense of light.

Time appears to slow to a crawl as you watch the red light pulse and flutter, its intensity increasing with each passing moment. Your palms go sweaty in anticipation, and the hair on the back of your neck stands on edge as you brace yourself to find out what is behind the door.

Then, without warning, just as you go to reach for the handle once again, the red light bursts brightly, obscuring your eyes. With a startled scream, you stagger backwards and deck onto the hardwood floor, your heart beating as adrenaline rushes through your veins. The room swirls around you as you try to regain some form of direction, your senses overwhelmed by the abrupt blast of light and the overpowering feeling of dread that persists in the air.

“Fuck!” you manage to yell out and as your senses slowly return, you find yourself gasping for breath, the remnants of the red flame still burning brightly in your vision, creating white spots behind your eyelids. With trembling hands, you reach out to steady yourself, your heart pounding in your chest as your blood pumps nervously through your veins.

In a daze, you glance to your right, your gaze falls upon the portrait you had removed from the wall and it's changed - it is now portraying a human head with a sheeps body, eating it's mesty carcass, blood smeared over it's mouth and wool.

With a sinking feeling in the pit of your stomach, you quickly rush to replace it, your hands shaking as you fumble with the frame. Your heart feels as though it's about to burst from your chest as you struggle to hang the painting back in its rightful place.

Finally, with the portrait back on the wall, you step back, your breath coming in ragged gasps as you try to steady your racing heart and swallow the sick that rose from the pit of your stomach out of fear. 

But as you turn around, your heart jolts to a panicked stop in your chest as a new wave of terror washes over you. Sitting there, in the corner of the room where there was nothing before, is one of the dolls - Park Sunghoon, motionless and silent.

“Jesus fucking Christ, you are the last thing I need right now,” you say in frustration, pinching your eyes to extract the last few spots from your vision. It’s bad enough that you’ve just been blinded by god knows what, and now you’re being startled by Sunghoon’s sudden appearance.

Breathing out, you compose yourself and nod, “Okay, so I won’t be going near that door again,” you swallow thickly, trying to inject a laugh to lighten your heavy heart. Scouring around in Soonyeol’s drawers was one thing but you would rather be massacred by a hatchet at the hands of dear Sunghoon over there than find out whatever the fuck is behind that door.

As you regain your composure, a manic laugh escapes your lips, a mix of nervous energy and relief bubbling to the surface. Sunghoon remains motionless, his expression unchanged, as if unaffected by the chaos unfolding around him.

You approach him with a mixture of curiosity, noticing the pair of frameless glasses perched on his face. It's a strange sight as you certainly didn’t put them on him this morning because why on earth would a doll need reading glasses?

"A fashion statement?" you quip, tapping the side of the lenses lightly. The failed joke eases some of the tension that still lingers in the air, and you find yourself chuckling softly as you take a seat on the table beside him.

Leaning in close, you lift Sunghoon's chin to meet your gaze, studying his features with fascination and admiration. Despite the unsettling circumstances, there's a strange comfort in his presence, a sense of solace that washes over you as you take in his ethereal beauty.

His hair falls in soft waves around his face, his bangs framing his eyes in the most captivating way. His features are striking, from the delicate freckles scattered across his nose and cheeks to the sharp line of his jaw. Sunghoon's beauty is almost otherworldly, captivating you in a way that you can't quite explain.

"You'll protect me from whatever is in there, right?" you joke, trying to lighten the mood but Sunghoon sits mute and unmoving. You ponder if staying still like that hurts them or is uncomfortable; does it just come naturally? There are so many questions but after that ordeal, you’ll give up on prying for now.

You pat Sunghoon's cheek softly, smiling down at him before deciding to press on with your chores, hoping that the mundane tasks will help ease some of the weight from your shoulders and restore a sense of normalcy to your day.

With careful hands, you adjust Sunghoon's head to stare forward once more, a futile attempt to spare him any unnecessary discomfort - although you can't help but wonder if he's even capable of feeling pain. Setting him back in place, you make your way to the desk and retrieve your duster, ready to resume your duties.

Focusing your attention on the far side of the room, away from the ominous door, you begin to polish the ancient globe that sits near the entranceway. 

Spinning it idly, you sigh and think about all the places you want to see before you die. You’ve been stuck in this city your whole life only going as far as hopping from city to city and you are in dire need of some vacation time. Maybe it’s the red light that almost blinded you, but you’ve never felt more of an urge to pack up and go.

Maybe it’s just this place you need to get away from. 

But you’re stuck, something is keeping you here. Any normal person who saw what was behind that door would have run for the hills and never looked back, yet, despite the fear in your body that lingers deep inside, you don’t want to leave.

You’ve said this whole time it’s for the money but you could find work somewhere else, a job that wouldn’t give you chills in your bones. 

Once you’ve settled your nerves fully, you want to keep investigating this place and find out why Jaeyun and the other dolls are alive, and unfortunately for you, you have a sneaking suspicion that whatever is behind that door might just hold your answers. 

As you continue to clean, your eye is pulled to an object perched on one of the shelves: an old camera. Intrigued, you approach it, admiring its appearance with a mix of curiosity and nostalgia. The camera's folding body, made of worn leather, emanates timeless beauty and carved nameplates on the side hint at its extensive past.

Upon closer inspection, you recognise it as a model from the 1940s or 1950s, similar to the Agifold your grandmother used to own. Memories of her beloved camera fill your thoughts, followed by a twinge of regret that you never got the opportunity to use it yourself. But now, with no one to stop you, an opportunity presents itself.

Gently, you pick it up and inspect it further, opening the back to see some film still lodged inside. You gently pick up the camera, its weight cooling in your hands. Opening the back panel, you uncover a roll of film that is still wedged inside.

Raising the camera to your eye, you adjust the focus and squint, searching for the perfect angle to capture the essence of the room. With a steady hand, you press the shutter button, the satisfying click echoing in the silence of the room.

Flash.

As you lower the camera from your eye, a satisfied smile tugs at the corners of your lips. But as your gaze sweeps across the room, a chill creeps down your spine, and the smile freezes on your face.

Something is…different.

You scour the room, your eyes darting from one corner to the next in an attempt to discern what has changed so abruptly. It feels as though the world shifted in the blink of an eye, leaving you disoriented and on edge. The familiar sights of the room offer little solace as you search for any sign of what could have caused the sudden disturbance.

The painting of the sheep still hangs on the wall, which means the door remains shut - good. The books on the shelves remain undisturbed, their spines aligned in neat rows. The windows are shut tight, allowing only a faint breeze to filter through the cracks in the draught. Everything appears to be as it was before, except for one glaring absence.

Sunghoon.

Your breath catches in your throat as you realise that the lifelike doll is no longer within your line of sight. He has vanished without a trace, leaving behind only an eerie emptiness in his wake.

A shiver runs down your spine as you consider the implications of his disappearance. Despite Jaeyun's assurances that his brothers are harmless, you cannot shake the feeling of unease that settles over you like a heavy fog. Even though Jaeyun is kind to you, the others may not share his benevolence. In a house filled with secrets and shadows, trust is a fragile thing, easily shattered by the slightest whisper of doubt. 

“You shouldn’t go around touching things that aren’t yours,” a hushed voice flows from behind you, taking advantage of your transfixed body to reach around your waist and take the camera from your trembling hands.

As he lets out a chuckle, Sunghoon moves around you with grace, returning the camera to its rightful place on the shelf. His towering presence now looms over you, casting a shadow that seems to swallow you whole.

Yet, you don’t feel threatened like you thought you would, somehow it was his lack of presence that put you on edge but now that he is standing before you, you know deep down you are in no harm. Your body relaxes a little, your spine finding its strength again as you straighten your posture.

Your movements amuse Sunghoon, his tongue running along his prominent canine as he smirks, “You don’t seem surprised?” he asks but it’s more of a statement than a question. He knows you must have already been in on their secret, “So was it Jaeyun? Did he spill like we thought he would?”

Jaeyun’s saddened face pops up into your head after your first time with him, begging you not to tell the others as they already see him as incompetent. The memory tickles your heart and you start to shake your head definitively, “No, I am shocked, look!” you say, bringing up your shaky hands to his eye level, a feeble attempt to convince Sunghoon.

“Oh really? Then why didn’t you question how I moved from my bedroom to the library without you carting me around in that fuck awful wheelchair?” Sunghoon queries, raising his eyebrow in mock suspicion. He knows you know, he’s just waiting for you to admit it.

“No, I…I just thought…I was…”

“You are a terrible liar, Y/N,” he scoffs out an endeared laugh and pushes your hand away from his face, “It was him, wasn’t it?”

Your heart pounds against your chest as Sunghoon’s stare holds you captive, those beautiful glass eyes slowly dissolving your loyalty to Jaeyun. You are trying so hard to come up with an excuse as to how you know their secret but the doll before you is so alluring in his beauty that your brain might as well be replaced with a tin of mushy peas.

He licks his bottom lip and starts to laugh as your silence becomes his confirmation. 

“Shit,” you huff out, looking down, feeling bad for betraying Jaeyun like this. One tiny secret was all you had to keep and you’ve given it up without even uttering a word. Fuck these dolls and their power over your resolve.

Sunghoon looks up at the ceiling, shaking his head in disbelief, “He really can’t keep his mouth shut,” he says to himself quietly, astonished that he even had any faith in the yapping puppy to begin with.

Your back goes up, eyebrows knitting together, “Hey! Don’t blame him like that,” you say defensively.

He halts his laughter and slowly looks at you, tilting his head, “Oh?...oh…” he mutters, a wide smile of bewilderment appearing on his face as he starts to piece you and Jaeyun’s relationship together, “How on earth did he manage to pull you? Did he give you a bat of his lashes and that signature pout? Did he make his eyes do that stupid sparkle? Hmm?”

You're taken aback by Sunghoon's accurate description, a mix of surprise and embarrassment colouring your expression. How did he know exactly what Jaeyun had done to win you over? Does Jaeyun do this with every housesitter?

Sunghoon watches your reaction with amusement, his grin widening as he sees the realisation dawn on you. "Ah, I see it now," he says, his voice tinged with playful mockery, "He's quite the charmer, isn't he? You know, he isn’t as innocent as he looks, he knows what he is doing."

You shift from one foot to another, looking down at your hands. It’s embarrassing for any woman to be hit with the truck of truth, especially when it’s about succumbing to a man, but a doll? That’s even more humbling. 

Lifting your chin, he gives you a smug smile as he sees inside your mind, “You shouldn’t feel ashamed, baby girl, Soonyeol is the same. She loves it - to look after him, coddle him whenever he wants, and give him kisses in passing,”  he leans down to make direct eye contact with you, a flash of something behind his iris’ brings you to attention as he continues, “That’s all that matters, isn’t it, that you have fun?”

You feel yourself nodding because he’s right. Inside of yourself, you knew Jaeyun was luring you into bed but you wanted it just as much as him, so did you really get played? And you enjoy his company, his constant telling of stories and his high energy, you’ve grown to cherish him with each passing conversation. 

Sunghoon observes the gears turning in your mind. "Can I tell you something?" he asks, his lips whispering over your cheek. You nod, permitting him to continue, your eyes fixed on his as he leans in closer, his lips almost brushing against your ear. "He's been unusually happy since you arrived," he murmurs softly, "I think you might be his new favourite person."

His admission causes a warm flush to spread across your cheeks, a mixture of surprise and delight flooding your senses. Knowing that Jaeyun feels a similar connection to you fills you with a sense of happiness and validation. You can envision Jaeyun becoming a lifelong friend, someone you cherish deeply.

While his initial intent might have been to charm you into fucking him, the time you've spent together since then feels genuine and sincere. You take comfort in knowing that Jaeyun values your companionship and enjoys your presence for more than just physical intimacy.

Sunghoon inhales sharply through his teeth, a disapproving tsk escaping him, "I don't think Soonyeol would be too pleased about that," he remarks, pulling back slightly as if considering the ramifications. "After all, Jaeyun is her favourite, and if she were to discover you've been fucking her precious little puppy..."

Your eyes widen in alarm as you grasp the implication of his words, shaking your head frantically as you instinctively raise your hands in a defensive gesture, "No, no, no, you can't tell her!" you exclaim, your voice tinged with desperation. You find yourself on the verge of pleading, almost dropping to your knees in a last-ditch effort to appeal to Sunghoon's mercy, "I need this job," you implore, your voice trembling with anxiety.

Sunghoon's lips curl into a sly smirk as he watches your panic-stricken reaction. "Well, I suppose I could keep my mouth shut..." he muses, drawing out the suspense and relishing in your apprehension.

Your heart pounds in your chest as you hang on to his words, hope flickering within you at the possibility of him relenting. But just as quickly as your hope appears, it’s gone as you see the dark shimmer in his eyes behind his glasses, the way his tongue is sitting on the inside of his cheek as he watches you.

“You can’t be serious? You’re blackmailing me into having sex with you?” you retort, the revulsion evident in your tone.

"I'm not a creep, Y/N, I wouldn't do that," Sunghoon responds, a hint of offence lacing his words. As you meet his gaze, you feel a pang of regret for assuming the worst about him. But he lowers his voice, his eyes hooded as they lock onto yours. "I'd only fuck you if you wanted me to," he murmurs, the timbre of his voice sending a shiver down your spine. You find yourself involuntarily rubbing your thighs together, a nervous habit forming as you bite your lip.

Sunghoon's hands find their way to your waist, drawing you closer until he’s pressed firmly against you. His nearness is intoxicating, and you can't help but tip-toe to etch closer to his face, craving more of his presence. His lips hover tantalisingly close to yours, teasing you with the promise of something more.

"Oh? Would you like that?" he asks smugly, his grip on your waist tightening as he effortlessly makes you melt under his touch, succumbing to him like putty in his hands. It's crazy how much power these dolls possess over you, their allure is irresistible and their influence undeniable.

His smug expression only adds to the internal chaos, making you feel both irritated and strangely drawn to him. You want this more than you would like to admit, perhaps it was the comfort he was bringing to you after your ordeal with the door, or maybe it’s because you’re an idiot that simply wants to fuck him.

Sometimes there is no other reason than pure lust.

Sunghoon's grin widens as he sees you surrender to him, his fingers dancing on your waist as he leans in even closer, closing the already minimal gap between your lips and before you can fully comprehend what's happening, his lips brush against yours in a teasingly soft caress. It's a fleeting touch, but it ignites a fire within you, awakening something.

You're acutely aware of how vulnerable you are in this moment, how easily Sunghoon has managed to unravel your defences and ensnare you in his web of temptation. He is doing exactly what Jaeyun did to you last week, and just the same, you’re letting him because you want it.

"Tell me to stop," Sunghoon whispers, his voice barely audible above the pounding of your heart. His hands continue their gentle exploration, tracing the contours of your sides with a feather-light touch that sends tremors of pleasure coursing through your body.

It's a cruel temptation, the way he places the power in your hands, knowing full well that you won't utter that simple word; not when every caress feels like fire against your shivering skin.

Instead, you close the gap, your mouth melding against his as your once shaky hands now thread through his hair, pulling him further into you. You can feel his victorious smile against your lips as he guides you to sit on the very desk you were snooping around earlier, pressing your ass against the edge.

He briskly undoes your jean buttons, his lips planting one long kiss on yours before he sinks past your tits and stomach until he is on his knees in front of your pussy. Teasingly, he pulls down your bottoms, slowly but surely exposing your dampened core to him.

“There you are,” he mutters, placing a gentle peck on your pubic bone, his lips lingering there as he savours the moment. He looks up at you behind his glasses and smirks as he sees your chest rising and falling in anticipation, “I’ll make sure you feel good, baby girl, don’t worry.”

His smirk widens as he leans in closer, his breath warm against your skin as he trails kisses along the sensitive flesh of your inner thighs. Each touch is deliberate, calculated to elicit a response from you, and you can't help but arch your back in anticipation, silently urging him to continue.

With a soft sigh of contentment, Sunghoon grants your unspoken desires, his tongue delicately tracing the beginning of your slit. He flattens it against your tender flesh, savouring the taste of you as he lingers there, lost in the intoxicating sensation of your essence. 

You grind your hips onto his face and before you know it, you’re riding his face, using your hips to move your clit along his rigid tongue. Your fingers desperately seek to find refuge on a surface to steady you, which they find in his hair, tugging gently at his scalp to help anchor you.

Sunghoon is loving it as much as you are, the smile on his face is a testament to this. He pries your legs further apart to sink his mouth further into your heat, the tip of his wet muscle now working in tandem with your hips to help you out.

"F-fuck," you moan breathlessly, your body arching instinctively towards him as he spreads your folds between the fingers of his right hand. Anticipation courses through your veins as he teases you with soft, long licks, each stroke of his tongue sending waves cascading through your body.

You're consumed by both pleasure and longing, your senses overwhelmed by the intoxicating sensation of his touch. Every lingering, deliberate swipe of his tongue against your clit makes it throb with need, and you find yourself clenching around nothing, yearning for more.

You want him to go faster, to get you to the edge quickly so he can fuck you against this desk, but at the same time, you're intoxicated by the slow, deliberate pace of his movements. He’s so good at this it’s almost awe-inspiring. 

Sunghoon's long fingers stroke up and down your folds with a delicate touch, savouring the sight of you spread open before him. But he needs more, he wants to see you completely exposed and at his mercy. With a determined gaze, he shifts your legs over his shoulders, positioning you firmly on the edge of the wooden desk.

"Your pussy is the closest to heaven I'll ever get," he remarks, a smirk playing on his lips as he takes in your needy expression. Your whimper for attention to your clit only fuels his desire further, "I want to make you beg so bad, baby girl," he adds, his voice dripping with need, "but I don't want to wait to see what it feels like to have you cumming on my tongue."

The plea escapes your lips before you can stop it, your desire overriding any sense of restraint, "Please, Sunghoon," you moan, your hips instinctively thrusting towards him, begging for his touch.

He can't resist the temptation any longer. With a hunger that borders on desperation, Sunghoon spreads your folds open once again, his gaze fixated on you in this new position. He licks his lips in anticipation, his mouth watering at the sight of your glistening wetness.

His tongue flicks over your hood, teasing your clit with quick, back-and-forth strokes that send electric shocks through your veins. You writhe beneath him, lost in the overwhelming sensation of his touch as he expertly pushes you to the edge. 

Sunghoon’s glasses steam up as he switches between licking and sucking your clit, drawing out moans of pleasure from both of you. There is nothing he loves more than eating pussy, the feeling of someone’s sweetness on his tongue is the best feeling he’ll ever know, he could spend hours just worshipping each and every cunt on the planet.

But he knew from the moment you walked in, that he had to have just one taste of you.

“Sunghoon, fuck,” you moan through bated breaths, holding his head hostage between your legs - not that he minds, the desperation your exhibiting only heightens his desire to consume every part of you, to make you unravel under his touch.

Your back presses against the desk, the crumpled documents from Soonyeol's work forgotten beneath your squirming body. In this moment, nothing matters except the overwhelming pleasure that consumes you both.

Sensing that you're on the brink of orgasm, Sunghoon dips two of his fingers into your warm, inviting heat, the sensation sending shockwaves of pleasure coursing through your body.

"Fuck, Sunghoon, yes," you scream, your voice filled with desperation and hunger as his fingers join his mouth to drive you wild. You're teetering on the verge of bliss, your body twitching with anticipation as he deftly guides you to the peaks of pleasure.

"That's it, baby girl," he murmurs, his voice husky with desire. "Let go for me..."

As the waves of your orgasm wash over you, you cry out his name, your body trembling with the intensity of your release. Sunghoon watches you with a satisfied smile, his own desire burning brightly in his eyes. His fingers never let up, continuing to pump in and out of you as your climax washes over you, coating his hand and even spurting onto his face.

Standing up, Sunghoon keeps his digits buried deep inside you, still wriggling them around as he leans over your spent body on the desk. "If this is you with just my mouth and fingers," he says, pausing to give you a sweet kiss, "then just imagine you on my cock."

His words send a shiver of want down your spine, and you can't help but imagine the feeling of him buried deep inside you, filling you completely. The thought alone is enough to reignite the fire of desire within you, and you find yourself yearning for more of him, for the pleasure only he can provide.

Withdrawing his fingers from you, he brings them to his mouth, licking himself clean of your cum. The sight has you gasping, wishing his mouth was back on you, using that tongue just one more time. Sunghoon sees the need in your eyes and smiles cockily.

"You want a taste?" he asks, already offering his fingers to your parted lips. You eagerly accept, sucking and licking them clean, savouring the lingering taste of yourself on his skin. "You taste unreal, right?" he remarks, his voice husky with desire.

You nod, popping your mouth off his fingers, "How can you taste me if you've got no taste buds?" you ask, genuinely curious. There's still so much you don't know about these dolls, and each revelation only adds to your intrigue.

"Ah, we're all different makes. Some have functions others don't," Sunghoon explains as he begins to undress, leaving him in only his boxers and glasses.

"So you can taste? What can the others do?" you inquire, your curiosity piqued.

"You bored of me already, baby girl?" he teases, deflecting your question with a smirk. His hands grip the bottom of your t-shirt, and with a swift motion, he lifts it over your head, leaving you exposed and vulnerable on the desk, "The real question you should be asking is what else I can do."

You lie naked before him, anticipation palpable in your expression as you look him up and down, suddenly intrigued by the possibilities. "What can you do?" you ask, your voice barely above a whisper, eager to discover the depths of pleasure he can offer.

“Let me show you,” he murmurs, his voice low and seductive.

He pushes his boxers down, revealing his throbbing arousal. Your breath catches in your throat at the sight of him, his length throbbing in his hands. Each time he pumps, the pulsing of the fake veins quickens. He presses his cock against your folds and you feel the pulse.

"Do you feel it?" Sunghoon asks, already knowing the answer as he watches you involuntarily move your hips, seeking more of the delicious friction his cock provides.

You nod eagerly, your desire mounting with each passing moment. The anticipation of what's to come sends a wave of heat rushing through you, and you can't help but yearn for more of him.

You understand Soonyeol a lot more now.

Slowly, Sunghoon guides himself to your entrance to let you feel the throbbing more intensely as he begins to push inside you. The sensation is electrifying, sending your body into a flush as he fills you completely with his length.

Imagine if every man possessed this kind of touch; maybe, just maybe, there'd be less reason to complain. It's like slipping into a dream, feeling his hands explore every inch of you as he eases into a gentle rhythm of thrusting.

You find yourself lost in the sensation, every nerve ending alive with anticipation. His movements synchronise with the rhythm of your heartbeat, building a crescendo of desire.

You can't help but draw comparisons to Jaeyun, though you don't mean to. Their approaches to pleasing you are starkly different. Jaeyun is fervent and eager, consumed by his own need for you. His passion is raw and primal, leaving you breathless and craving more, even as you revel in the intensity of his desire.

In contrast, Sunghoon's touch is confident and measured. Each thrust is a masterpiece of skill and intention, as if his sole purpose is to ensure you experience the pinnacle of pleasure. There's a depth to his movements, leaving you utterly captivated by the artistry of his fucking. He was born to do this.

Once he senses your body yielding to him, growing accustomed to the girth of his cock, he presses his hand firmly against your lower stomach, anchoring you to the desk as he intensifies his rhythm. His muscles tense with each powerful thrust, driving deeper into you with a primal urgency.

"God, you're tight," he remarks, a cocky grin spreading across his face. His glasses slip down the bridge of his nose, his tousled hair falling into his eyes, "Are you sure Jaeyun's been fucking you?" he teases, his voice laced with playful arrogance as he revels in the control he holds over your pleasure.

As Sunghoon's words cut through the haze of pleasure, a pang of guilt tugs at your conscience. Despite the lust coursing through you, his casual dismissal of Jaeyun stirs conflicting emotions within you. Jaeyun may not be perfect, but he holds a place in your heart that you can't deny.

"I... I don't like when you talk about him like that," you manage to say between breaths, your voice wavering slightly. 

But that only makes him pound into you deeper as you cry out. Your hands reach for his arm as you grip it tightly, trying to keep yourself grounded as he fucks you with an intensity like never before.

Sunghoon's response is a low growl, his grip on you tightening as he drives into you with an almost punishing force, "You don't want me talking about your little puppy?" he taunts, his words laced with a mixture of lust and disdain. The sound of the drawers rattling beneath you only adds to the chaotic symphony of pleasure and pain enveloping you.

Your head swims with conflicting desires, torn between the familiar comfort of Jaeyun's touch and the intoxicating thrill of Sunghoon's dominance. And as his thumb finds its way to your clit, sending bolts of ecstasy shooting through your body, you can't help but succumb to the overwhelming pleasure, surrendering yourself completely to the man who's determined to claim you as his own.

"I hit a nerve, huh?" Sunghoon's laughter rings out, a mixture of amusement and triumph lacing his words as he continues to tease your sensitive clit, each flick sending waves of pleasure coursing through your body.

You try to form a coherent response, but all that escapes your lips are desperate moans and gasps as Sunghoon's relentless assault pushes you closer to the edge. Sensations overwhelm your senses, leaving you trembling and breathless in his grasp.

"What's the matter, Y/N?" Sunghoon's voice drips with mock concern, his tone betraying his underlying satisfaction, "Did I touch a sore spot because you know I’m right? That pup could never fuck you this good, just admit it." His thumb circles your clit once more, sending a bolt of lightning up your body.

You bite back a whimper, your mind clouded with a mixture of arousal and frustration. The realisation dawns on you that you're caught in the middle of a rivalry, a competition between two men, each determined to outdo the other.

But amidst the chaos of conflicting emotions, one thing becomes clear - in this moment, there is only Sunghoon, his touch, his dominance, consuming you completely.

As Sunghoon redoubles his efforts, fucking into you so good you think you might struggle to walk for a week, you find yourself surrendering to him; but as long as you’re getting fucked like this, who cares?

"Sunghoon," you manage to gasp out between ragged breaths, your voice pleading yet smothered with arousal, "Please..."

He pauses, his movements slowing as he looks down at you, a predatory glint in his eyes. "Please what, Y/N?" he taunts, his voice dripping with amusement, "Do you want me to stop?"

You shake your head frantically, unable to form a coherent response, "No," you whimper, your fingers clutching at the edge of the desk for support, "Fuck...don't stop."

A wicked grin spreads across Sunghoon's face as he leans in closer, his breath hot against your ear, "That's what I thought, baby girl.” He kisses you messily, his fingers circling your sensitive bud as he continues his pace.

Sunghoon's eyes latch on yours, a knowing grin on his lips as he awaits your release. The air crackles with eagerness, "You're almost there, aren't you, Y/N?" Sunghoon's voice is deep and husky, sending shivers down your spine as his words stoke the fire inside you, "Just a little more..."

His words propel you over the brink, sending you spinning into oblivion as waves of ecstasy rush over you. You yell out his name, your body quivering with the intensity of your release as you surrender totally to the euphoria surging through you.

Sunghoon stares at you with dark, hungry eyes, his own release near as he continues to push into you with unwavering passion. He turns his thrusts from rapid to sharp, the vibration excruciating with each punch of the tip of his cock to your linings. He is so smug as you knock the lamp off the table by accident, too busy trying to escape the overstimulation you’re pussy is experiencing, but he holds you still.

"Give me just one more minute, baby girl, you can handle it, right?" he rasps, his voice thick with desire, eliciting a groan from you. He's moving with the intensity of an animal, overwhelming yet fucking satisfying.

His glasses teeter on the edge of his nose, moving by the force of his thrusts. With a swift motion, you snatch them from his face, placing them on your own and viewing him through a new lens. He's breathtakingly beautiful, with or without the glasses, but especially in this moment.

"Please, Hoonie, cum inside me," you plead, pushing the glasses to the tip of your nose. As Sunghoon takes in the sight of you, combined with your newfound nickname for him, he loses all semblance of control.

With a final, powerful thrust, he spills into you, his release coating your insides as some spills onto the desk below. The vibrations from his cock cease, and he remains still inside you, his face buried in your neck as he trembles with the intensity of his climax.

Sunghoon's trembling subsides as he lifts his head from your neck, his eyes locking with yours in a haze of post-orgasmic bliss, "You're incredible, Y/N," he murmurs, his voice filled with awe and reverence, “I can’t let him have you to himself,” he admits, a smirk playing on his face.

You return his smile, your chest still heaving and your body buzzing with the aftermath of your shared passion. "He did mention that Soonyeol shares you all," you point out, a playful glint in your eyes.

Sunghoon nods, his expression turning serious as he brushes a strand of damp hair away from your face. "True, but she doesn't exactly fuck us every day," he confesses, his voice low and husky with desire, mischief evident in his expression.

"We don't have to..." you begin, but Sunghoon cuts you off with a determined look.

"You're fucking mad if you think for a second I'm going to let any opportunity to have you slip away," he declares, his tone leaving no room for argument, "I'll take you whenever and wherever I can, Y/N. That's a promise."

“Am I going to have to sort out a rota?” you joke, giggling as you begin to sit up, his cock slipping out of you with a soft pop.

Taking a tissue from the box laid on the desk, he wipes you down, something Jaeyun doesn’t do at all. But Jaeyun does cuddle which is something you can’t imagine Sunghoon doing. 

As he tosses the tissue into the waste basket and begins to get dressed, you watch him with a mixture of affection and anticipation. "Put me on the first shift tomorrow, yeah?" he requests, his voice tinged with eagerness.

You nod with a smile, already looking forward to the next time you'll be together. "Consider it done," you agree, a spark of excitement igniting within you at the prospect of what tomorrow might bring.

You hop off the desk and begin to put your clothes back on, satisfaction courses through your body, yet your mind remains unsettled. There’s one lingering question you hope Sunghoon can answer before he retreats back to his room.

“Hey, Hoonie?” you shout before he reaches the door to exit. He turns around and looks at you expectantly, “What’s behind that door?” It’s a loaded question but one you need answers. No amount of fucking can make you forget that spine-curling red light.

Sunghoon sighs, his steps retracing back to where you stand, his hands reaching for your face. You wonder what he's up to until you feel him peel off his glasses, giving them a quick clean before settling them back on his nose.

“Do me a favour?” he asks, his tone carrying a weight you can't ignore. You nod, hoping he'll grant your request for insight into the mystery beyond that door.

“I won’t tell Soonyeol about you fucking us if you agree to stop sticking your nose into matters that don't concern you, understood?” his words sting, his stare unwavering as he awaits your response. Whatever lies behind that door is a sensitive topic, only fueling your curiosity further.

There’s no denying you need this job though, so with a reluctant sigh, you nod in agreement, accepting the terms of his proposal, "Okay, Hoonie," you concede, the weight of your decision settling heavily on your shoulders, "You have a deal."

Sunghoon's lips curve into a small smile, a glimmer of appreciation shining in his eyes. "Good," he replies, his voice softening with approval. "Now, let's keep this between us, shall we? Jaeyun doesn’t even know and if Heeseung catches a whiff that you know about that thing, he will kill you before you can even attempt to find a key.”

His warning sits like vomit in your throat at the mention of Heeseung, the most mysterious one of them all. You don’t know enough about the cherry-haired doll to debunk whether Sunghoon is joking or not.

You offer him a solemn nod, a silent promise to uphold your end of the bargain. But what he doesn’t know is that as he leaves, you have your fingers crossed behind your back.

taglist: @nshmrarki @kgneptun @ui11iane @addictedtohobi @parksunghoonsgf @chaewonshoney @chiiiiiiiiis @lilyuwon @rayofsunshineeee @moon7jay @erehkinnie30 @brownsugarbaybee @minniejenseo @woninluv @jaysluvs @fakeuwus @capri-cuntz @ash024 @who-tf-soddhi @bambangan @vousty @heeseungspookie @alvojake @yorukoshii @haechonly @riftanswhore @belowbun @emi-en @branchrkive @featjunranghae @thejjrl @nyxtwixx @sunghoonnsupremacy @nctislifue @itsnikitty @enhypenlovre

[alavestineneas]

Losing dogs

pairing: young!coriolanussnow x fem!reader

summary: His golden prize, his future wife, was now bound to him by the ring on her finger. Of all of his investments, this one had the potential to yield the greatest return. warnings: not really canon-compliant, mentions of minor violence, blood and shitty relationships word count: 4k

Part 2 is here!

author's note: remember kids, manipulators and sick bastards are only hot in fiction - don't do them (and drugs) in real life!

The polished toes of his new shoes reflected everything in the grand hall—they caught glimmers of lamps adorned with gold, colourful drapes on the enormous windows, and the kaleidoscopic dresses of women around. The chatter filled the room, almost too loud to hear the music—not that he would enjoy it either. Some things require focus.

''Mister Fabius, Missis Fabius.''

Corialanus's face melts into a smile-like expression at the sight of the older couple.

They look like lice in the large building—rich lice, that is. The golden and platinum rings on Missis Fabius's fingers shine with every gemstone known to man, mirroring the bright lights. The jewels look ugly on the wrinkly hand, he notes. What a waste.

''Mister Snow, what a surprise! I was just telling Livia of your prodigious success in your new position. Incredible work, Mr. Snow; simply incredible! ''

The man's face radiated with excitement, getting closer in shade to his burgundy tie. The gold threats on it piqued more interest for Mister Snow than the words of the old man—after all, it's not every day you meet such luxury in person.

The man's wife, however, seemed less enthusiastic; her cold, bored gaze circled him up and down, stopping only after getting the satisfaction of an undoubtedly unpleasant conclusion. 

Coriolanus mentally went over his outfit, hairstyle, and anything else she might have noticed. Nothing was out of place; the holes in his coat were a thing of the past. Still, it was something—that thought found its place in his brain, drilling a small hole in its way. 

''When will we know of your decision, Mister Snow? We gave you time—a lot of time.''

''This evening, Mrs. Fabius. After the play, I promise to give you my answer tonight.''

He has to look first. What fool buys a horse blind? Sure, the horse came with immense fortunes and, most importantly, connections, but still. He couldn't afford to make a hasty decision, especially when the stakes were so high. After all, he was one of the most desirable bachelors; Fabiuses had to thank him for even considering the offer.

''There is no agreement until tomorrow, Mister Snow. We will have you for breakfast at nine o'clock sharp,'' Mr Fabius said, placing a hand on his wife's back and leading her towards the entrance. They could afford not to make one's adieu.

The opera was popular among the richest; all of the seats were taken. He would have lied if he said the golden rails and red velvet didn't make him feel a bit out of place. Nobody paid him any attention, although this time it didn't hurt him as much as usual. He could hide in the shadows of his box seat without being concerned about making an impression.

Not the stage, of course. It was the least of his worries, although he did pay a high price for a ticket. No, he looked at her. 

The golden gown on her was a shimmering masterpiece. Layers and layers of the most expensive fabric covered her body like soft waves, crashing down at the round neckline with their gilded ends. She wore diamond earrings, just like her mother did, although they suited her better. 

Coriolanus remembered her from the academy; she always sat near the window, gazing out at the world with a longing in her eyes. She wasn't a very bright student but rather a dutiful one. always on time, always prepared with her assignments, and always eager to please her teachers. The heiress to the jewellery empire. The flower of the elite social scene. Her presence attracted attention, yet she seamlessly blended into the background, never stealing the spotlight. YN Fabius was everything he needed her to be—a picture, but never a spectacle. 

-

The manor was grand and opulent, showing the wealth and status of the Fabius family. Its sprawling gardens and delicate architecture were a testament to its esteemed position in society. Collums, paintings, and endless staircases stood as if frozen in time. It was as if there was no war just a decade ago. 

''Mister Snow,'' the butler called out, his voice echoing through the grand foyer. ''Breakfast is served in the blue dining hall; if you would please follow me.''

Thousands and thousands of steps and passages lined the walls, leading to various wings and chambers of the mansion. It was warm, even during the cold autumn season. Only keeping the fireplaces always lit must cost a fortune.

When they finally reached the needed room, Coriolanus was slightly out of breath. The blue walls reached the high ceiling, painted with pictures of half-naked gods and goddesses frolicking in fields of flowers. It created the illusion of a smell wafting through the air as if the vibrant colours had come to life. 

The table was served for four, not three, suggesting that someone else was expected to join them. The silverware gleamed under the soft rays of sunshine, casting a shimmering glow across the room—pure silver, nothing less. 

The door behind him opened with a gentle creak, revealing Mr. Fabiuse's humble figure. His simple, at first glance, shirt was another of the perfectly constructed illusions—Coriolanus knew the fabrics like the back of his hand. The shirt, though seemingly plain, was made from the finest Egyptian cotton, woven with intricate patterns. 

''Mister Snow, how good that you came on time. Excuse my ladies, the girls are such girls at every age. Take so long to get ready,'' he laughs. ''Please, take a seat," Mr. Fabius said, gesturing towards a plush chair covered in velvet. 

''There is no point in all of those paints once you hit sixty,'' Mrs.Fabius said, appearing right behind her husband. She circled the table before taking a seat herself, her eyes glancing disapprovingly at the young man. "Let's begin before the food grows cold," she added with a sigh, her tone tinged with resignation. 

''Of course,'' Mr. Fabius nodded, lifting the lid on the first dish. The aroma of it filled the room, and Coriolanus couldn't help but feel his hunger grow. He didn't have the habit of eating so much in the morning—another thing he needs to adjust about his routine. 

When Mr.Fabius finally placed the fork down, Coriolanus knew it was time. ''Thank you for the invitation, Mr. Fabius. I must say, I thought a lot about your proposal, and after careful consideration, I have decided to accept it.''

''Good.'' Mrs. Fabius answered instead, her eyes sparkling with satisfaction. "I'm glad to hear that, Coriolanus. I believe this union will bring great delights to both of us." 

Mr. Fabius seemed not to notice the interruption. ''I think a winter wedding would be absolutely perfect. Everybody seems to be getting married in the spring, but in the winter? Oh, it's definitely going to be a hit. Ah, and here's the lucky bride-to-be!''

She stood beside the just-opened door, her eyes following his expressions. Her hands, adorned just with one small pearl ring, were gently clasped together in front of her. She looked nervous, like a child standing in front of the full class on the first school day. Her dress, a delicate lace creation, clings to her figure like a second skin. 

He smiled at her. YN looked like an antique statue, as if she just stepped out of the ruins of the Panem. Coriolanus wasn't even sure she was breathing—her stillness was so deep. 

''Let's leave the lover birds to chirp,'' Mrs.Fabius said, standing up. She walked towards the couple, her heels clicking against the floor, and extended her hand towards YN. "Congratulations, my dear," she said with a warm smile before leaving, her husband following after her.

''It's time for a ring, isn't it?'' Coriolanus cleared his throat. Everything is to be done appropriately; there is no reason to avoid traditions. He reached into the pocket of his suit and pulled out a small box. White, of course—who is he, if not a romantic at heart?

''Mr. Snow,'' YN watched him stand up and come closer with the same expression she always bore—a mixture of melancholy and worship. ''Grant me something.''

He paused. Coriolanus didn't like to make promises. He would have to make it clear to her later, after the wedding—the fact that he took her for a bride was enough of a promise. Still, he needed this engagement to work, and he was not about to lose it to a crude lie. With a sigh, he softly replied, "What is it that you desire, Miss YN?"

''Promise me you will be kind to me. All of our marriage, promise to be kind to my heart.''

Coriolanus almost laughed in her face. Oh, what a lovely, clueless fool. "I will do my best to treat you with kindness, Miss YN."

''Good,'' she smiles. ''I think we will make a great couple then, Mister Snow.''

''Coriolanus, my dear. Please call me Coriolanus." 

He couldn't help but feel a twinge of annoyance. It was sealed. His golden prize, his future wife, was now bound to him by the ring on her finger. Of all of his investments, this one had the potential to yield the greatest return.

-

Mr.Fabius didn't lie—his daughter was the perfect bride. She never spoke to him unless he did first; she never questioned him. She simply followed his lead, like a well-trained pet. A pretty, lovely YN. She knew what to do, how to dress, and what to say. He searched for one—at least a slight imperfection—and couldn't find one; it was as if she wasn't a human, which, to him, she wasn't.

''What are you going to do today?'' he asks, without bothering to look up from the newspaper. He doesn't wish to hear her answer, but he still asks out of courtesy. Coriolanus knows that her daily routine is made up of attending charity events, dinners with influential figures's wives, and shopping for designer clothes. It's a predictable pattern.

''Well, the trees I ordered came in today; I'll have to chat with the new gardener about them. Are you meeting with anyone important later?" 

''As a matter of fact, I do. Larry Tremblay wants to include me in a business deal he's been working on." 

It's partly true, but she doesn't need to know more. Just a familiar name was usually enough for his wife to hum in satisfaction and assume that he was still climbing the social ladder. Not this time, evidently.

''You shouldn't accept.''

He looked up from his cup, trying to guess if she had gone out of her mind. YN looked like usual, her eyes meeting his without a care in the world. Why today, of all days, she decided to question his decision was beyond him. He cleared his throat, attempting to maintain his composure. "And why should I decline such a good-looking opportunity?" 

''He beats his wife. Just yesterday, I saw her with bruises. ''

Coriolanus fought hard to keep a smile from forming on his lips. Instead, he leaned back in his chair, feigning indifference. He knew his wife wasn't the brightest, but this? "Is that so?" 

''Don't you understand what it means? The man only beats his wife for two reasons. If he has always enjoyed those types of things, which Larry did not, or if he loses power and control in other aspects of his life. The business isn't going as well as he wants it to,'' YN lowers her gaze, losing confidence in her voice. ''I thought you would want to know that.''

He would, very much. Her conclusion was the dumbest thing he ever heard, based on some black and blue marks and a twist of her imagination. Still, it was interesting—his wife's head wasn't always empty like he hoped. She thought enough to notice something, and she listened enough to remember his partners. 

''I will keep that in mind,'' he replied, his tone tinged with a hint of annoyance. What harm could it do to entertain her thoughts? It was even slightly amusing to see her try to piece together a puzzle that didn't exist. 

-

It wasn't so fun anymore when Larry Tremblay was fired exactly two weeks later. Surely, it could be a consequence, but Coriolanus Snow didn't believe in them. There had to be something, anything, to explain his wife's sudden knowledge—she couldn't have acquired it on her own, about that he was sure.

YN looked unfazed by his questioning gaze as she lay on the dark olive-coloured sofa in his office, continuing to play with a snow-white kitten on her stomach. It was his wedding gift, one of many—the pricy creature with a diamond collar. He thought it was rather symbolic—two caged animals who were once considered sacred.

''How did you understand that Tremblay was about to be fired?'' Coriolanus asked, his voice laced with suspicion. It could be that she overheard the woman talk about it, or even that she had some inside information from her connections. What bothered him more was what she could know from the same source about him.

YN paused, her fingers gently stroking the kitten's fur as she met his gaze. "I didn't know that. I simply knew he had trouble at work. Evidently, they were big enough for him to lose his position." 

''Really?'' he chuckled. Maybe she was telling the truth. ''Then, what can you say about my work?''

YN's eyes narrowed slightly. "Your work doesn't matter; how you present yourself does. Can I give you some advice?'

 "Sure.'' Coriolanus bit his tongue, fighting the urge to snap back at her. After all, it is what he married her for—to fit in. He took a deep breath.

''Buy a new car, but not the most expensive one; it will give off an impression of stability, like you know the job isn't going anywhere. Your shoes are always too polished; it's like you wore them right out of the box. And throw away that hideous tie you always wear—you look like a student." 

''Something else?'' Coriolanus mustered a weak smile, trying to hide his frustration. 

''I don't want to offend you, Coriolanus. But I want you to do well. After all, you are my husband now, and your success reflects on both of us. Why not help where I can? You know I love clothes.''

''Good, '' he replied, forcing a more genuine smile. "Now get away from that cat before it scratches you. I'll figure out the rest on my own." 

''Of course you will. You are the smartest man I've ever met.''

-

He was. It was because of his intelligence that YN married him, because of his ambition. Well, that and something else. 

From her earliest childhood, YN knew what she was destined to be. She was the child of late parents, the only child, and a girl; she would inherit everything the generations of her family worked so hard to achieve. And YN was no fool; she needed a man. Driven, proud, and cold-blooded. The one who was not afraid to get his hands dirty while she spent her time leisurely in his shadow. Oh, no—YN never minded her place, much like her mother did. She taught her to bet on the finest horses, and Coriolanus Snow was no exception. 

From the time she saw him in his ridiculously tight shirt in the academy, she knew what she wanted. Him. The top of every class, the charmer with pretty eyes—a catch, really. Her mother said there was darkness inside her dear Coriolanus, but YN knew. That's why she now sits in the opulent living room, waiting for him to get home. Mr. Snow was a horrific, ruthless man. But he was still, at his core, a man. 

And men never listen. That's how she got him and got him good—a silent, fawn-eyed creature that he thought he could control. An obedient wife and a lovely lap dog. It was funny to see his gaze twitch slightly when she said something she wasn't supposed to—how long would it take him to figure it out? 

It's time—his tall figure appeared in the corridor leading to the living room. YN watches silently as he takes off his shoes and coat, placing them on the rack by the door. Home at seven p.m. sharp, just like any other day. Just like any other day, dinner is at the table. 

He never said thank you. Instead, her closet grew bigger with countless dresses, bags, and shoes—sometimes even brand-new jewellery. YN didn't mind it; she loved it—the jealous whispers of other women at the events about how lucky she was. She didn't have to sleep with a big, fat old man to get the latest fur coat or the most exquisite diamond necklace.

At least a few times a month now, Coriolanus would wake up in the middle of the night, screaming. This night was one of those: YN woke up from the constant turning and tossing in the bed. She doesn't know how he didn't figure out why; it was easy to guess his food contained something to make his sleep far worse—YN made sure of that. Maybe he just didn't have the heart to admit his weaknesses, even to himself.

''Hey,'' she whispered, getting out of the warm covers. YN tiptoed over to Coriolanus' side of the bed, careful not to bump into anything in the dark. ''Hey, wake up. Are you okay?" she asked, gently shaking him awake. 

Coriolanus jolted upright, his eyes wide with fear as he gasped for breath. He wasn't; of course, he wasn't. Yn would have lied if she said she didn't find it hot to see him like this—sweat glistening on his forehead, his chest heaving. 

''You were having a nightmare again.''

He looked at her with the eyes of a lunatic, still not over his dream. ''What did I say this time?"

''You were mumbling something about birds and songs, I think? It didn't make much sense." 

He doesn't recall that she mentored the 10th game too. Without much success, of course, but one thing she did remember was a girl from District 12 who liked to sing. Coriolanus remembered her too; it was evident from the fear that crossed his eyes.

''Excuse me,'' he said, his voice still shaky. ''I need a moment.''

YN watched as he stumbled towards the bathroom, his hands twitching. As much as her husband wanted to hide those parts of himself, he couldn't. Not from her. 

There was nothing else to do but wait. YN climbed on the bed, turning her back to the bathroom door. Coriolanus would only come out when he thought she had fallen asleep. She learned to control her breath when she was just a little girl; it saved her life once, when a rebel pointed a gun at her small frame, meaning to shoot. He didn't—what use was it to waste a bullet on a non-breathing child?

Surely, after some time, the blonde man stepped out of the bathroom. For a few minutes, he listened to her steady breathing before sliding under the covers and pressing his body against hers, his large hand covering her shoulders. Coriolanus wasn't gentle; YN wasn't sure he knew what the word meant anyway, but he was careful. His arm around her chest wasn't tight—just enough for him to bring her closer.

As much as YN wanted to turn around and face him, she didn't. There was no point—like any other human, he hated the feeling of vulnerability. Instead, YN focused on the warmth of his body. Coriolanus Snow was a god more than a human, and real gods were never kind. The only currency they recognized was blood.

-

The annual party for the victor of this year's games. The first year Coriolanus Snow worked as a head gamemaker, his creation was a bloodbath, a spectacle of violence and despair. He did a good job—an excellent one, even—and one of the greatest stars of today's celebration was him.

They needed to dress the part in clothes that exuded power. And so they did. Coriolanus's suit was ample—purple velvet with gold embroidery—the colour of Roman emperors. The colour of the winners. The suit hugged his broad shoulders perfectly, suiting his white hair. Gold cufflinks, gold rings—he looked like a sovereign among men. It was risky to do so right in front of the current president, but who was Coriolanus Snow if he was not confident in his success? 

YN wore the gown from the matching collection, a floor-length masterpiece. The deep purple colour was a stark contrast to her skin tone. And jewellery, of course—she came from the Fabius family for a reason. The lavender diamonds on her necklace and earrings. They were rare—the rarest—even. Only a few violet diamonds have been mined in the past seventy years.

It was all anyone talked about behind their backs. Whispers, rumours, and so much venom dripped from the mouths of Panem's elite—that's what they were hoping for, anyway. The Snows were just as shamelessly rich as they were powerful. 

That's why they now sat at the President's table, just a few faces away from them. Coriolanus smiled to himself - not even the President's wife could compare to YN. Not in fashion, not in elegance. He had an impeccable taste - even a person far away from politics could see that.

''A toast!'' the President stood up with a glass in his hand, turning to face the Coriolanus. ''I am sure many of you know who was the mastermind behind the games this year - it's my pleasure to introduce Coriolanus Snow to those of you who don't. However, not many know his story of success. From a dirt-poor background, when his greatest possession was his family name, he worked hard to achieve the position he holds today. Let us raise our glasses and celebrate his remarkable journey to success and the country of Panem - the land of opportunity!''

YN cursed under her breath as she listened to the crowd cheer for her husband. He remained stoic - the only thing that gave away his fury was his eyes - they grew as dark as the sky outside. She didn't bother to calm him - this fire was impossible to put out. The President made a fatal mistake with his speech - she knows. But the true fear crept into her heart when she saw the President's wife pass Coriolanus the dish. 

Cabbage.

Under a fancy sauce, it could be transformed into a delicacy fit for their circle. But tonight, it was his last straw. The colours changed on the face of Coriolanus, from white to all shades of red. His fists clenched, and veins pulsed on his temples. The room fell silent as they observed.

''Oh, I am so sorry,'' YN chipped in. Quick, something. ''I have a terrible allergy to cabbage.'' 

The President's wife looked concerned. ''Oh, I didn't know.''

YN made her eyes water, throwing a coughing feat for more dramatic effect. ''I think I need to step outside for some fresh air." 

She felt a warm hand on her back. ''Let me accompany you, just to make sure you're alright." her husband announced, carefully leading her towards the exit. 

-

The first thing he did when they reached the women's bathroom was break the mirrors in a fit of anger. Shards of glass scattered across the floor as he paced around the room like a caged animal. YN watched as shouted and hit the walls, sitting on the bathroom floor. Beautiful one - the tile was a lovely shade of pink, contrasting with the chaos unfolding before her. 

After a good few minutes, he finally calmed down and sank to the floor beside her, his face buried in his hands. Her husband, her hauntingly beautiful, pathetic husband - oh, what a sight. He looked mad, maniac, even; his blonde hair was far from its usual perfectly styled form, falling on his tear-stained cheeks.

"What do you think of me?"

His voice is hoarse, a few notes down from a honey-like. She likes it better, YN thinks - nothing of the fasçade he was trying so hard to uphold. No, just a raw hunger with a mix of equally raw despair.

"I think you are an animal, Coriolanus."

She smiles, watching his expression change. He suspected it, of course - her husband was a smart man. Still, he can't believe it - his head twitches in her direction, his gorgeous bottomless eyes shining under the weak light of the only surviving floor lamp.

"What?" he asks with such a loss in his voice YN has to fight the urge to bring him close. Not now, she thinks. It's not the time. 

"A hungry, desperate, sick, sick animal with nothing to lose."

Coriolanus gets closer abruptly, clearly angered - she can't let him leave now. His arm shouts to find its place on her neck, long, slim fingers forming a circle around her throat. "You think I am after money, don't you?"

"No, no," a yelp escapes her lips, bordering a hysterical laugh. "Only fools are after money, Coriolanus, and you are no fool."

YN watches as he loses his grip a little, calmed by her words. What a pitiful, fascinating creature was her husband - one word of reassurance and he is willing to let thousands of cursings slide.

"What is it, then? What did you fantasize about in your small dull head?"

He still doesn't believe her. YN is surprised at how quickly it becomes boring. 

"You want power."

Clap - the grip on her neck is tight again.

"That's why you choose the fear. People forget the hand that feeds them, but the one who beats? Never."

The frown on his face falls a little, and through the gritted teeth escapes something like a curse. "You talk an awful lot about me," he notes. "What are you hungry for?"

"You."

He laughs. That was a deep, chest laugh - YN thinks she never heard him laugh so sincerely. "You want my love? Don't lie to me, YN," he taunts, pressing a little harder on her neck.

"Not love. Love is easily swayed, is it not? No, I want you."

Coriolanus looks at her as if he never done so before. Well, he looked thousands of times, but he didn't see. His eyes study every expression in hers, every part of her face. "A hungry dog is not a loyal dog," he finally masters.

There is a certain silence after his words. YN gulps, desperatly trying to help her dried throat - the blood from his hands ran down her neck onto her exposed chest, leaving sticky, dark trails behind.

"Feed me, then."

He kisses her. He puts a force behind it, watching her hands fall on his chest for some kind of support. Coriolanus kisses her until there is no air in YN's chest anymore, and she has to push him away to take a rushed breath. 

They were going to be just fine.

After all, they both never bet on losing dogs.

[rjzimmerman]

Excerpt from this Op-Ed from the New York Times:

At first glance, Xi Jinping seems to have lost the plot.

China’s president appears to be smothering the entrepreneurial dynamism that allowed his country to crawl out of poverty and become the factory of the world. He has brushed aside Deng Xiaoping’s maxim “To get rich is glorious” in favor of centralized planning and Communist-sounding slogans like “ecological civilization” and “new, quality productive forces,” which have prompted predictions of the end of China’s economic miracle.

But Mr. Xi is, in fact, making a decades-long bet that China can dominate the global transition to green energy, with his one-party state acting as the driving force in a way that free markets cannot or will not. His ultimate goal is not just to address one of humanity’s most urgent problems — climate change — but also to position China as the global savior in the process.

It has already begun. In recent years, the transition away from fossil fuels has become Mr. Xi’s mantra and the common thread in China’s industrial policies. It’s yielding results: China is now the world’s leading manufacturer of climate-friendly technologies, such as solar panels, batteries and electric vehicles. Last year the energy transition was China’s single biggest driver of overall investment and economic growth, making it the first large economy to achieve that.

This raises an important question for the United States and all of humanity: Is Mr. Xi right? Is a state-directed system like China’s better positioned to solve a generational crisis like climate change, or is a decentralized market approach — i.e., the American way — the answer?

How this plays out could have serious implications for American power and influence.

Look at what happened in the early 20th century, when fascism posed a global threat. America entered the fight late, but with its industrial power — the arsenal of democracy — it emerged on top. Whoever unlocks the door inherits the kingdom, and the United States set about building a new architecture of trade and international relations. The era of American dominance began.

Climate change is, similarly, a global problem, one that threatens our species and the world’s biodiversity. Where do Brazil, Pakistan, Indonesia and other large developing nations that are already grappling with the effects of climate change find their solutions? It will be in technologies that offer an affordable path to decarbonization, and so far, it’s China that is providing most of the solar panels, electric cars and more. China’s exports, increasingly led by green technology, are booming, and much of the growth involves exports to developing countries.

From the American neoliberal economic viewpoint, a state-led push like this might seem illegitimate or even unfair. The state, with its subsidies and political directives, is making decisions that are better left to the markets, the thinking goes.

But China’s leaders have their own calculations, which prioritize stability decades from now over shareholder returns today. Chinese history is littered with dynasties that fell because of famines, floods or failures to adapt to new realities. The Chinese Communist Party’s centrally planned system values constant struggle for its own sake, and today’s struggle is against climate change. China received a frightening reminder of this in 2022, when vast areas of the country baked for weeks under a record heat wave that dried up rivers, withered crops and was blamed for several heatstroke deaths.

[catscidr]

// genshin characters as lethal company players //

cw: none! just silly headcanons. 100% crack includes: kaveh, kazuha, columbina, kirara, kaeya, cyno, ayato, wanderer, xiangling, xingqiu, mika, layla, nilou, chongyun, thoma, childe, itto, dehya, dottore, albedo, lyney, bennett, ganyu, venti, furina, zhongli, neuvillette, candace, collei, arlecchino (that's a lot) a/n: this was a shower thought after watching the sumeru cast play the game agfsghjs

knows everything about the game ↳ kaveh, kazuha, columbina, kirara, kaeya

⇢ already has a “boss” pin on their in-game uniform when you play together for the first time ⇢ is the one that chooses which moons you guys go to. also buys all the resources (flashlights, walkie-talkies etcetc) bc they don't trust anyone else to do it ⇢ could probably speedrun the game if they wanted to, they have like every map memorized ⇢ if they die you’re ALL fucked. good luck ⇢ always brings back the dead bodies no matter what (says it’s for the quota but actually just feels bad leaving you guys there)

mostly there for the laughs but is maybe surprisingly pretty good at the game ↳ cyno, ayato, wanderer, xiangling, xingqiu

⇢ don’t let them find the airhorn/clown horn unless you want them to destroy your eardrums ⇢ somehow Always encounters monsters. but they get out alive (most of the time) ⇢ has died to quicksand and gotten clowned for it in the vc with other dead people in it ⇢ when you go sell items on the last day they ring the bell repeatedly to provoke The Worm to make everyone panic ⇢ scares you on purpose. may or may not have gotten themselves killed by you beating them to a pulp because you got jumpscared by them one too many times

always on edge, even before the game starts ↳ mika, layla, nilou, chongyun, thoma

⇢ gets the “most paranoid employee” note when you all come back from a moon ⇢ most likely to sacrifice themselves (to finally catch a break) ⇢ screams a lot. has gotten eaten by eyeless dogs more times than u could count ⇢ sticks with you so they’re less scared (but their paranoid Vibe just makes you scared too) ⇢ the one that dies first or is the last one standing. either way they're stressed and can't think properly

your personal guard dog ↳ childe, itto, dehya, dottore, albedo

⇢ “strength in numbers!” they say right before a thumper mauls the shit out of them ⇢ designated enemy killer. carries around a weapon to smack them with it (their weapon of choice is a yield sign) ⇢ has saved you from a snare flea stuck to your head multiple times (always expects a “thank you”. they bonk you if you don’t say it) ⇢ walks in front of you to scope out danger ⇢ also sometimes very tempted to beat you with their weapon just to fuck with you (dottore finishes the job)

the lost puppy ↳ lyney, bennett, ganyu, venti, furina

⇢ gets “laziest employee” every single time because they never find any scrap to bring back to the ship ⇢ has an awful sense of direction in the game and somehow loses sight of you even when you're exploring the moon together ⇢ gets grounded by your group and is tasked to guide people in the facility through the cams with their walkie talkie ⇢ their inventory is always full but only with useful items like a pro flashlight, a walkie talkie and a ladder ⇢ speaking of ladders, they've accidentally fallen in a hole multiple times and that's why they always need a ladder on them. to get themselves out.

bonus: watches you play! ↳ zhongli, neuvillette, candace, collei, arlecchino

⇢ watches the game either very invested or very confused ⇢ may or may not backseat without realizing it ⇢ contributes to the bits (not on purpose: zhongli, neuvi. on purpose: candace, collei, arle)

[myzornaccount]

I think valve's philosophy regarding games is that a new game has to have something entirely unique and innovative before it can be released. If it is innovative enough, it can be released twice and done way better the second time. They release experimental first games, and the successful first games get the privilege of becoming polished second games. Gong past that is a waste though. High quality, inspired, design happens when new mechanics are introduced

If valve really did release half life 3, then 4, then 5 and so on, the series wouldn't be any better than call of duty 9 gorrilion and seven

Think about it

Half life: first successful FPS with a functional third axis, polished in half life 2

Portal: first FPS physics puzzle game, polished in portal 2. Previous canon is not abandoned by setting this in the same universe as halflife, but the gameplay is fresh. Another action shooter wouldn't have kept as much attention

Left4Dead: first co-op PvE shooter where teamwork was implemented into intended game design (special infected) unique enough to be polished in a second game

Team fortress: one of the first (maybe the first) PVP game with a class system, later polished

And then there's all the not so popular games valve released:

Death match kinda sucked, experiment failed, no second game

A whole bunch of VR titles, they kinda sucked because VR just isn't there yet. No polish expected

I think it's against valve's development/greenlighting philosophy to create a new game while using an old formula. It's why they keep making such great games. It's not the same slop every time they release a new title. Modern warfare 9999999999 plays the same as modern warfare 2. There's no improvement to be made after the first sequel and it's not a good idea to invest resources into games whose only real differences are improved graphics

Valve can count to three, they're just enlightened enough to know that counting to three yields boring games with nothing special or unique to make them worth playing

[femmefatalevibe]

Femme Fatale Guide: How To Master Your Money & Tips On Financial Literacy

Understanding and taking control of your finances improves your quality of life in many ways. Making strides toward better financial literacy can save you a lot of stress, unnecessary fees and helps you play a more active role in taking control over this aspect of adulthood. Once you understand the game of money, saving, and investing, it becomes infinitely simpler to devise a plan to set yourself up for a more financially-free future. Here are some practical tips to keep your finances streamlined, secure, and systemized to help you gain more financial literacy and win in this area of life.

Overview:

Track Your Income & Expenses

Set Financial Goals & Realistic Limitations

Invest Higher-Quality Items To Save Later

Educate Yourself On Different Types of Banking & Investment Accounts

Establish Credit, But Know Yourself

Create An Emergency Fund

Leverage Credit Card Benefits

Understand The Power of A Roth IRA (or Backdoor Roth IRA) & HSA

Automate Whenever Possible

Get Familiar With Taxes & Write-offs

Stay Informed About Employer Benefits

Purchase Seasonally & With Discount Codes (When Available)

Protect Yourself

Read Books

Seek Expert Advice

TIPS ON MASTERING FINANCIAL LITERACY:

Track Your Income & Expenses: Always have a record of all of the money going in and out of your accounts. Use the tool on your banking account app(s) to confirm your monthly income and expenses. Tools like Mint also are great to track your spending to see where every dollar is going all in one place. Aside from personal use, for small business owners, Quickbooks is my favorite invoicing and expense-tracking option. 

Set Financial Goals & Realistic Limitations: Once you know your exact monthly income, budget your essentials, savings, investments, and fun money accordingly. Make sure necessities like rent, food, health insurance, electricity, WiFi, toiletries, etc. are accounted for before anything else. Depending on your financial situation, experts (not me – I try to educate myself as best as I can, but am no expert!) recommend trying to save and invest between 15-30% of your pre-tax income. Give yourself the liberty to spend the rest (say 15-20%) of your income, so you don’t feel deprived and stay on track with your goals.  

Invest Higher-Quality Items To Save Later: Initially purchasing a higher-quality item often cuts your overall expenses in a certain area over the long run. (Ex: Well-made clothing, shoes, furniture, kitchen appliances, coffee maker, hair dryer, etc.). If you invest upfront on an item you regularly use, there’s a lower chance that it will deteriorate, rip, break, or otherwise become unusable for the next few years. When you opt for the cheaper option, this practice might save you a few bucks in the short term, but you will probably end up having to replace it a few times over time and spend more in the long run. This tip might seem counterintuitive to some, but it truly does save you a lot of money (and frustration). However, I will place a caveat here and say that this advice comes from a place of privilege. Never purchase something you can’t afford. If you have the means, spend a bit more upfront - it is better for your future wallet, allows you to indulge in a better quality of life, and helps you let go of any scarcity mindset/financial limiting beliefs. 

Educate Yourself On The Different Types of Banking & Investment Accounts: Know the differences between and the use purpose of different accounts: Checking, Savings, CDs, 401K, Roth IRA, HSA, etc. Always opt for a high-yield savings account option to help preserve your money’s value over time with rising living costs and inflation. 

Establish Credit, But Know Yourself: Your credit score is like your adult report card. It’s essential for so many aspects of life, like renting or buying a home, insurance, cell phone plans, etc., so it’s important to start building your credit as early as you can. However, if you know you’re the type of person to overspend with a credit card, look into secured credit card options (you deposit the money that acts as a credit limit, so it’s like a debit card with credit-building benefits). 

Create An Emergency Fund: Pay yourself first. Have between 3-12 months of expenses available in a high-yield savings account at all times. If you have a family or are self-employed, aim for 6-12 months of necessary savings to stay sane. Saving this amount of money takes time. Be patient, and cut back on frivolous expenses if needed for the short term. 

Leverage Credit Card Benefits: If you have enough self-control, always use a credit card instead of a debit card – but spend in the same way you would as though the money is coming directly out of your bank account. This gives you additional flight and other purchasing perks, such as cashback and exclusive discounts. Using a credit card provides additional security, too.

Understand The Power of A Roth IRA (or Backdoor Roth IRA, depending on your income) & HSA: Compound interest is your best friend financially. Depending on your income, invest as much as you can into a Roth IRA account or set up a backdoor Roth IRA through your brokerage firm (I use Vanguard!). HSA (Health Saving Accounts) accounts offer so many benefits – they can serve as a tax write-off, lower your overall healthcare costs, and be leveraged to use as an additional retirement investment account, too (I use Fidelity). 

Automate Whenever Possible: Automate a portion of your paycheck to savings and your investments, so you never see this money. Pay yourself first before spending (on anything but necessities). 

Get Familiar With Taxes & Write-offs: This mainly applies to anyone self-employed or a small business owner (been in the game for 5 years!). However, this point can also potentially be beneficial for students who can leverage an education credit for tax purposes. Explore all of your options to see what write-offs are available in your specific situation. Understand how your income and expenses influence your tax bracket. Investing in a CPA can save you a considerable amount of money and all of your sanity if you’re not a salaried employee. Look over the standardized section C document, and speak with a professional to help maximize your write-off potential (legally and honestly, of course). My CPA is my lifeline! 

Stay Informed About Employer Benefits: Always maximize your 401K match (whatever percentage that is at your company), any wellness perks (like a gym membership or massage credit), or any meals and car services credits for late nights/work trips. 

Purchase Seasonally & With Discount Codes (When Available): Try to purchase items off-season when you can (e.g. purchase classic winter closet staples in the summer when they’re on sale). Utilize plug-ins like Honey or Cently on your browser to have discount codes for any site readily available. 

Protect Yourself: Stay on top of fraud alerts. Freeze your credit bureau accounts if necessary. 

Read Books: Educate yourself on saving, investing, budgeting, building a business, etc. See the ‘Finance’ section of my Femme Fatale Booklist for some recommendations. I also love Graham Stephan’s Youtube channel – his videos are highly useful and practical for beginners in this life arena! 

Seek Expert Advice: Use licensed professionals (CPAs, brokerage firms, your bank, etc.) as a resource, too, for your personal goals. 

This is a lot to take in, so try to implement one action item (or a few) at a time, so you can work towards your goals without getting overwhelmed. Also, for reference, I’m in the United States, so all of these tips are focused on how the system works in my country - if you know of any international equivalents, feel free to drop them in the comments to guide others.

Hope this helps xx 

[l1llina]

"Huh, me? Like him ?"

Alhaitham x Fem!Reader

18+, Minors dni

Synopsis: The Akademiya is pushing a big project to fight the Abyss Order. You along with the other students are assigned to work on it. This project will bring you and Alhaitham closer.

It’s another day, another day of zoning out. What annoyed you even more was this really stuck up guy in your class. He always seemed to look down on everyone else, including you, and you’re a sensitive bitch so this bothered you a lot. 

One day, the school reveals that every student will play a part in building a machine to fight the Abyss Order specifically the Abyss Prince. The pressure and excitement in everyone was of course very high almost overbearing. You couldn’t believe it. This was... amazing. Big ambitious projects with the whole help of the school. The school officially recruited everyone and everyone became an employee for the Akademiya.

Unfortunately, the way they assigned divisions were by class, this was all planned by the day you enrolled. The leader of your division who could order you to do anything he wishes was.. Alhaitham urgh. This went from being your dream to a nightmare. 

He actually didn’t put many rules but the goal for that semester was to finish an elemental laser gun. Surprisingly every person in the class had a different role. You received the Casanova role but why did they need one ? At first, you pondered maybe they just didn’t want to hurt your feelings but then you guessed it was because they still lacked sufficient funding for such a project so you were the leader of your own little crew. The marketing crew!

Your job was to convince people to invest in such a project, and honestly who better for the job hah. Additionally the school encouraged the students to actually date and find love within other similar types. You were kind of manipulated into dating the heads of the project. Since production would go up if a Casanova and Leader got along well.

You were “advised accordingly” to go on a date with Alhaitham, your enemy. You didn’t have any romantic/sexual feelings for him before the date but during the date, he seemed a little obsessed, a little too happy to be here. 

The Akademiya issued Friday to be a day to deepen relationships between the students. Admittedly they cared more if you had sex. They didn’t give the opportunity to buy condoms, since they hoped the students could bear kids to continue the project if the parents died. 

Alhaitham urged you to take a sip of wine, you did out of politeness and out of curiosity to see what he’d do. You didn’t want your gut feeling to be right, to think he’d do something terrible, however when you came to, you were in white lingerie in Alhaitham’s dorm. 

“Hey.. Y/N, I’m sure you know why I abused my position of power to get you here. You teased me on purpose huh, wearing that short pencil skirt. I don’t like helping the school with their corrupt ways but I can’t help but want to keep you to myself so let’s bear a child and we’ll rule the school”

He began teasing you, bouncing you on his thigh, you muffled your moans, refusing to yield to this asshole’s demands, but slowly, after being edged for so long, you started losing your rationale and following his demands. He worshipped the body that would give him an heir and the woman who clouded his mind for years. 

“I saw how you looked at me in class, such hatred and disgust, there’s nothing more satisfying than triumphing over my enemies but in this case, you’re my doll now and don’t worry doll I’ll make sure to treat you right and please you accordingly”

You thought he’d stop at grinding you on his laps but he got down on his knees and started stuffing your tiny hole and circling your clit with his tongue. Urgh the only thing that’s stopping you from giving yourself to him fully is your pride. If you gave in, he’d win and there’d be no guarantee you’ll find real love with him.

“Why are you still holding back, do you think I’ll hit you ? Insult you ? Never, not to the girl I’ve respected for so long”

“W-What, re-respect hngh..?”

“Yeah, you’re a little stupid but you always kept your promises and showed your hatred for hypocrisy and oppression of the system. You’re exactly my type, I love your character and I hope even after this little stunt, you can find a place in your heart to love me too”

“Al.. I didn’t wanna give in because I don’t like losing.. These past few years, I always thought you were an asshole, even now you’re proving my point but right now I couldn’t care less, you being an asshole also ties with your ambition and I couldn’t find anything more attractive than that, well devotion too but you’re that too so. More so, you’re fucking hot.. Are you kidding me ?”

“So, we’re a thing then ?”

“Yeah.. now fuck me with your cock already, just so you know though I don’t really like kids but I still wanna have sex with you right now”

He plunges his cock and makes you cum many times that night. The next day your dorm changed to Al Haitham’s and you shared a dorm now. Outside of school hours and even during, you would be in his office, dating and fucking him” 

At night, you found a new nerd pal to geek out with but he sometimes takes it too far and it ends up in passionate makeout sessions. The next morning, the cycle continues

TBC <3 Pls don't hate me

[ronearoundblindly]

Threadbare (1)

Steve Rogers x Fashion Designer!Reader

Part One: Yield Strength (see series)

Summary: Steve gets to meet his favorite designer, and you get a surprise visitor at work.

Warnings: none. Maybe a bit of creepy behavior but not from Steve. Yes, I did just want to use the leather jacket gif for shiggles. What's it to ya? WC 3355

Steve Rogers hates stuffy functions. He hates the brown-nosing. He hates trying to convince people who have everything to give scraps to people with nothing. He hates watching the excess and indulgence, even when he knows it ends up giving something to those in need. He hates it. He hates the whole lot of these stupid, asinine—

Steve takes a breath and smooths his hand down the buttery fabric of a double-breasted jacket hanging next to his intended garment.

Ok, fine, he hates the functions, but he actually enjoys the dressing up part.

He didn’t used to. No. The only outfit outside of his Cap suit that ever truly fit him—before or after the serum—was his SSR uniform, and coming from a time of nothing, Steve accepted that as a huge win.

And then he woke up in this world of excess and—what do they call it? Fast-fashion?— realized that what should be easier to acquire was much, much harder to find: room to breathe.

Steve may roll his eyes at Tony’s custom everything, but he admits internally that at least Stark’s comfortable all the time. Steve would settle for being comfortable in his own skin.

This helps though, this gloriously draped, stiff in a supportive way, heavy in a grounding way, and shapely button down. He doesn’t need a whole suit tonight; it’s not that kind of event. In fact, Steve wasn’t specifically invited. He heard Tony talking about the new collection by the designer of this shirt—which happens to be the label for 90% of Steve’s dressier clothing at this point—and Steve outright volunteered himself to go with Tony.

See, Steve Rogers is now a big, broad guy, and it’s been an adjustment, as well as plain difficult, to gather a wardrobe that isn’t custom tailored due to his sheer size and proportions. The team jokes about his tight shirts, but if he buys things large enough for his shoulders, his waist swims in fabric. Steve had to live off of stretchy clothing for the first three years he was out of the ice. He wasn’t out of his Cap suit long enough for the investment to be worthwhile. Then it took another several years before he discovered Tovarich.

The man must know what it’s like to be big and broad, that’s for sure. Steve may not be much for high fashion, but he’s genuinely gotten so much comfort and enjoyment out of Mr. Tovarich’s work that Steve wants to thank him personally. For once, being Captain America is a good card to play to ensure he gets to meet the designer.

Steve adjusts his rolled sleeves a bit in the mirror, smirking at himself for being a bit of a dandy concerning his look right now, but he’s determined to have a good time out with Tony. It’s just a fashion show. How difficult can it be?

Really damn difficult, that’s what it is.

Steve isn’t prepared for the bizarre press interest in who is there instead of what is being shown. He’s used to cameras flashing at him—especially because the bright and loud pops of flashes were much worse in the ‘40s—but Steve’s in awe of the models’ complete indifference while walking a straight line with a straight face in some of the simplest, most magnificent men’s wear he’s ever seen.

If all he had to do was tick boxes on a list to order things, Steve would be in big trouble with a full bingo card and an empty wallet. It’d be worth it though.

Tony tries to talk to him every so often, but the music is outrageously loud. Steve can’t hear a thing.

He gets tapped on the shoulder by some women sitting behind him, and they try to say some more things he can’t hear.

Everyone rises to clap, and Steve joins in, overwhelmed by the fast pace of all the outfits on repeat, when the man on his other side accidentally elbows Steve and drops his program. The paper flutters to land in front of Tony’s feet, so Steve picks it up, hands it back, and the man makes an appreciative face before gesturing vaguely at the runway and mouthing his admiration. Steve nods and smiles, happy he’s not the only one fanboying over clothes.

The lights change in the venue. The photography and clapping stop. Tony starts yammering on about an after party, but Steve wants to meet the designer.

“Oh, Cap, that walk-and-wave was as close as you’re getting today. Tovarich is a hot commodity. I’ll just get you a fitting sometime.” He clamps a hand onto Steve’s shoulder and tilts his head toward the refreshments. “Shall we?”

Darn. Steve should have done more research on how fashion shows work, but he hates how invasive online snooping feels. It was fine when he was catching up on history and historical figures. However, most of the ‘news’ now is not news at all, so he avoids searching for information that way. He doesn’t ask question about Mr. Tovarich because, in theory, it’s none of Steve’s business and Steve may or may not be slightly ashamed at how obsessed he is with something as trivial as clothing.

Fashion is not something he thought about until very, very recently. The most time he’s spent worried about what he puts on is his tac suit, and the main features of that are being blade resistant and bullet proof. Those things don’t exactly interest him so much as they are in his best interest.

So Steve is rather disappointed by the outcome of the evening, but he’ll manage. For once, he’s got a tiny bright light of something to look forward to in the form of a few more dress shirts and a very sharp vest.

He goes on with life as usual.

Months later and they’re doing this thing.

It’s called the Hellfire Gala, and apparently, it’s a big, big deal. Steve’s told everyone goes all out, that he’ll need to be dressed to the nines, and he realizes this is his opportunity.

Tony’s elated to make the arrangements for him with the Tovarich Atélier and plans to go with him. He wouldn’t stop grumbling about how awkward Steve might be, raving that he can’t have Steve getting a bad rap under his clout, so Steve shows up nervous.

Tony sends a text saying he’s running late. Of course he is, today of all days.

Steve shuts his eyes and lowers his head in gratitude that there are only two seamstresses when he first arrives. The ladies—one older and one younger—offer refreshments and ask a few questions about the event and what styles he might be interested in. He explains the getup needs to highlight the ‘Cap’ persona since the gala is a celebration of their work as Avengers, but other than that, it’s the-sky’s-the-limit for Tovarich.

The younger seamstress smiles at that and calls it ‘fun.’

Sure. That’s one word for it. Steve would also call it daunting.

As instructed, he stands on a small platform while the ladies bustle about speaking quietly to each other. Steve hears Tony ring the reception bell before any measurements have started, and he heaves out a sigh of relief.

“In time for the good stuff, am I?” Stark winks.

“Always perfectly welcome, Mr. Stark,” you, the younger woman, say politely. “Would you care for anything to drink?”

“Uh,” Tony smooths his hand down his current suit front, eyes flickering to Steve, “have you met me?”

Your smile widens. “Dominica, please,” you signal to your coworker.

Between your fingers, you’ve folded a scrap of paper, something you scribbled while Steve stood awkwardly on the pedestal (which isn’t to say he has stopped standing awkwardly), and Tony snatches the paper from your grasp, unfolding it to make a challenging, inquisitive face.

Steve huffs and glares, praying his friend doesn’t start hitting on Tovarich’s employee before the man even shows up. Steve isn’t the one to be worried about.

Stark takes Dominica’s proffered tumbler of brown liquor, saying nothing.

You are a ninja with the tape measure, gentle hands sliding over his chest and waist and—Steve swallows—his hips, all while rattling off numbers…which no one writes down. Steve moves his arms and legs when told. When you’re kneeling on the edge of the platform, eye level with his crotch, Steve decides to distract himself and get some answers.

“I’ve been looking forward to my first meeting with Mr. Tovarich. When might he arrive?”

Tony clears his throat, wincing. “Not possible, buddy.”

Steve tenses.

“I thought that—“

“You can’t meet him for the the first time.” Tony holds up a hand before Steve can move. “You already did. She’s measuring the distance between your balls and the floor.”

Steve startles out a ‘what,’ snapping his legs shut with your hand between his thighs.

“Captain Steve Rogers, please meet your favorite designer,” Tony beams, shoving his tongue against the inside of his cheek and hiking up his eyebrows.

Steve shrinks, face burning.

“Hello, Captain Rogers,” you introduce yourself with a lovely smile, “I will…need my hand to make your suit, sir.”

His open-mouthed impression of a fish is cut short by standing at attention, releasing the seal of his thighs. “Yes, ma’am. Sorry.”

“Very polite,” you mutter before turning to Tony. “Mr. Stark, was that entirely necessary?”

“For the look alone, yes. My god, I’ll pay you again just to watch now that he knows.”

You push off the platform and practically skip over to Tony, reading over his shoulder. “How did I do?”

Tony looks at the piece of paper. “Damn it. Spot on,” Tony grunts.

“And that means…?”

“That I leave you alone for the rest of the consult,” Tony whines. “Fine, but make it worth it, buddy. Lady gets paid by the hour.” He snaps his fingers playfully. “Dominica, let’s take room two, my dear.”

Steve’s not sure what to do with his hands and mistakenly remains up high on the pedestal while you pull out a notebook and sit at a small table.

“Oh!” You look up at him with tender, lively eyes. “You may step down now.”

He feet seem to thunder to the floor even against the carpet. “I didn’t mean to—I just assumed that—I’m sorry, Misses—”

“It’s Miss,” you correct him. “And don’t worry. You are not the first, and you won’t be the last. Have a seat, Captain.”

“Steve.”

“Steve,” you correct yourself this time. “I’ll tell you a secret. I prefer that most people assume a man runs this business. You get to see people’s true colors when they finally find out.”

That doesn’t help Steve’s hot flush of embarrassment.

“You are one of the good ones. I can tell,” you add, adjusting to a fresh page in the notebook and marking the top corner.

In the silence Steve asks, “so you already knew my size?”

“You aren’t so different from my standard cut.”

“No,” he allows. Of course, he should have known that seeing as everything he buys from your label fits him so well. He kicks himself internally while trying not to frown at his slip up. It is, however, easy to keep a smile while basking in the glow of yours.

You pop your shoulder up into a shrug, lips morphing into a wry tease. “And I’m pretty good at what I do.”

Amazing, Steve thinks to himself. You’re amazing…at what you do.

Your elbow rests against the table, hand cupping your jaw as you hold Steve’s gaze.

“Some even call me a master of the male form.”

His swallow is deafening, which only makes you happier, and he looks down at his knee, rubbing his pant leg while his face heats.

“But for today’s purposes—“ you lean back in your chair, twirling your pencil playfully, a magic wand in your brilliant hands “—why don’t you tell me what makes me your favorite designer so I can make you my favorite client?”

Why’d you have to be so pretty? Why do you need him for so few fittings?

Steve has to stop himself from spending a Tony Stark-sized fortune on clothing for the pleasure of walking into your store and seeing you alone—well, in the hope of seeing you at all. Dominica is very sweet, sassy in a hard ass mom kind of way, and she’s one of four total assistants you have at the shop. Steve’s met three of them.

There’s just only one of you, and you’re busy.

Between his duties with the Avengers, actually sleeping, and debating with himself about what constitutes looking desperate, Steve is lucky to have caught you in-house only half the times he visits.

And then he tore a shirt. In fact, he tore three shirts, and to his credit, two of them were by accident. The third…uh, there’s a chance that when Steve exclaimed “oh shoot, I didn’t see that nail poking out” that he 100% saw that nail and deliberately brushed himself against that wall. He also may or may not have deliberately done it in front of Tony, faking that it was no big deal, because now he has the excuse that Tony is the one who told him to go see you.

Yeah, Steve agrees, if you say so.

He’s all excitement and nerves again when he rounds the corner of your street, but then the adrenaline shoots through Steve’s veins for a different reason.

A squad car has jumped the curb in front of your shop, lights flashing, doors left open, and Steve can hear lots of tense voices.

It’s a stressful enough day without the uninvited guest. Not many people—who know how you work and are not assholes—would dare to show up within a month of the Spring Show, without an appointment, and demand a rush job.

A rush job on a custom suit that you explicitly said could not be rushed before its scheduled time, mind you, but the surprise visitor doesn’t care.

Richard Fisk is broad. He has dirty blond hair that falls in front of his eyes when he tilts his head to smile. He often travels with a whole team of other imposing men.

The son of Wilson ‘Kingpin’ Fisk, however, is a prime example of personality souring good looks. Where it’s bashful and adorable that Steve Rogers hides his smile, Richard barely bridles his menacing entitlement.

You hate him, but he’s not a person you can outright refuse. He makes all of your assistants uncomfortable. Fisk is needlessly hostile to Tarik, who is thankfully not here today; he’s a creepy dick to Abby, who you insist stays in the fitting room with Anja, your longtime client who trusts you to push the envelope tastefully for a redheaded woman in her sixties; and he almost made Jules quit because he couldn’t follow instructions during a consult. Dominica stands in as the perfect buffer when she’s here, but the eldest of the Tovarich Atélier employees is currently on the other side of the city for a VIP delivery.

Your busy, busy day just got much harder.

His trio of beefy entourage flanks Fisk at the front of your shop.

“Here for my suit, sugar,” he drawls, flicking his used toothpick into a corner on the floor.

He eyes Abby as she shuts herself and Anja away from his direct ire, and although this leaves you alone, it stops your worry for their safety in addition to your own.

“As it stipulates in the commission, we take at least—“

“Those little hands are free now, I see,” he spits, stepping within an few inches of your face. His breath is foul and hot.

The aggression has you stumbling back, smashing into a side table and knocking a box of supplies to the ground.

“How ‘bout you get to work.”

You take in a heavy, fortifying, and quiet gasp. “Per your order, the fabric is manufactured off-site because teal is not a standard color. It takes time to produce. This was made very clear when you signed.”

Fisk flashes that menacing smile. “We can wait. One of these fine men can…keep you focused till you do your job.”

The condescending tone and disrespect of your work ethic spark flames of rage in your gut. Even though terror still simmers beneath, it’s too easy to let an insult fly.

“You’re lucky I’m even making it. The all white one last summer was a stretch, but teal? On you? Not something you can pull off.”

He lunges forward again. “Keep up the cheek, and I’ll lock you in my basement until I get everything I—“

“Ma’am,” a cop bursts through the shop door, “we got a call…” The officer goes quiet after one look at Fisk.

Abby must have phoned after hearing you knock supplies down, and you’re grateful, yes, but police are of little help with this guy. Cops wouldn’t dare ruffle Kingpin’s feathers or his awful son’s by proxy, but if you roll over now, you’ll never get back out from under him.

The only way forward is to put your foot down.

“Mr. Fisk, I wouldn’t make you a black and white striped three-piece if you did chain me in a basement. You’re a spring, and I have standards.”

“Ma’am,” the officer warns, his partner standing nervously in the open doorway.

“What kind of professional would I be if I let you walk around looking like a mental asylum inmate? I’m doing you a favor!”

Richard brandishes another toothpick. “The customer is always right, sugar.”

It’s stupid. You know it’s stupid to taunt him and yell. Being insulted and diminished doesn’t make you want to be smart though; it makes you want to be right.

Your hands ball into fists of fear and rage. “It’s my name on the label,” you bark, “and I could just refund you to get you the hell out!”

Now you’ve really done it.

The boy gangster’s face twists and his oral fixation goes limp in disbelief. No one talks to Richard Fisk that way, least of all women.

His men step between both the cops and their boss, leaving Fisk himself to grab a solid wood tie box from the nearest counter and fling it at your face.

Your arms fly up to block it, but nothing ever connects, nor is there a crash behind you.

An officer’s voice wavers from across the room. “Uh, I’m sure this can all be worked out. No need to…start anything.”

You’re ashamed to say that your hands are shaking when they return to your sides and reveal an entirely different bulky blond.

Steve Rogers casually holds the caught box in his hands, staring daggers as he shifts squarely in front of you to block Fisk.

“This doesn’t concern you, Captain,” the bully grunts. “Piss off.”

Steve strides forward to replace the box neatly and plants himself inches from Fisk’s face.

“Can’t do that. She’s expecting me.” He turns back to you. “Ready?” Steve asks with a tight smile.

You swallow down one iota of your alarm and clear your throat.

“Yes—” the word cracks but you hope familiarity will scare off Fisk for now “—thank you, Steve.”

That seems to be Captain America’s cue to handle everyone else at odds in the storefront. By the time you get control of your trembling limbs, Steve has shown Fisk the door and promised the officers that you’ll be looked after.

Abby peeks out of the fitting room, surprised to see only Steve.

“Did they send you instead?”

She opens the door wider for Anja to see.

The redhead quirks an eyebrow. “Call the police more often, honey. They’ve upped their game.”

The now bashful, broad blond tilts his head, rogue hair falling across his face. His blue eyes sparkle beneath long lashes while he apologizes for lying, but you can’t for the life of you figure out why he’d feel guilty.

“I…” Steve stumbles. “I don’t have an appointment. I just wanted to see you.”

Currently estimating four parts to this grumbling into the ether but who knows. I clearly cannot be trusted to estimate length anymore...

[Next Part]

You can find more to read on my Main Masterlist! For readers under 18, please see the Light Masterlist which contains all-age-friendly works.

@supraveng @patzammit @whiskeytangofoxtrot555 @femefetalelevelingup @darsynia

[tadpolesonalgae]

Blurbs

A/N: okay, I feel really bad about this but I’m quite exhausted, so these are just four short blurb-type things! Again, I’m so sorry they aren’t longer!

Below, you will find:

Training + Azriel Predator Play + Tamlin Sleepy mornings + Rhys Drunk Night In + Mor

Training session w/ Azriel

In The Shadows by The Rasmus

Steel meets steel. Sparks fly.

Sweat drips down your brow as his blade scrapes over your own, bones screaming with the effort of holding him off.

Azriel says nothing, just as invested as you as he flips his Illyrian fighting blade deftly, a move designed to intimidate—works pretty well. His eyes are sharp and focused, honed just like his blade.

Tendrils of misty air puff from your lips, curling in the crisp morning air, summer yielding to autumn, frost nipping at your sweat slicked skin.

You barely have the time to tense before he’s going on the attack again, surging forward and knocking at your weak side. He uses his size and weight to his advantage, crashing into you, and you stumble. He senses it, knows he’s caught you in a moment of weakness, and pounces.

Your feet fumble beneath you, legs numb and thighs trembling as he manages to tip you backward. Bone meets rock and you’re winded, air whooshing from your lungs with such force you forget how to breathe.

He flips the blade in his hands, before the pommel is slamming down. You have enough room to roll to the side before it meets the stone, the clang reverberating up his arm—he doesn’t even wince.

“Woah! Okay! Time out!” You gasp, barely dodging away before he has you pinned to the ground. He’s so close you can pick out the green in his hazel eyes, the early morning lighting them with glorious colour. His gaze rakes over your features, devouring each dip and line with starving hunger. As if seeing you for the first time.

“You were distracted.” It’s not a question but you know he’s curious. You shake your head, still panting, secretly revelling in his warmth against the chill morning. “Didn’t sleep too well,” you answer honestly. Well, omitting a little part of the nature of your dream, but that’s neither here nor there.

His eyes narrow on you and you’re worried he’ll see through your omission, but instead he stands, extending his hand as he pulls you up. “One more. Then we rest.”

You groan—it’s going to be one of those day. But, well, you can’t say no to him with your heart beating the way it is. Not with the challenge gleaming in his eyes.

Tamlin + predator play

Ring the alarm by Anna Blue

Your heart pounds in your chest, blood coating your skin, slicking your clothes from the hunt. Breaths rip from your raw throat, panting even as it stings to do so.

The moon is a silver slice through the inky sky, but there’s no time to admire its beauty, you can feel how close he is on your trail.

A twig snaps and you can hear his paws thud on the ground, roots and vines trembling and pulsing as their Lord races for you.

Your brow narrows but there’s no time to consider how he’s found you. One leg in front of the other, arms propelling you forward as you jump to the peak of a rock, leaping into the air. Arms stretch out to catch on a branch but he slams into you, knocking you in mid air, pinning you to the ground

You writhe and struggle but he keeps you locked beneath him. His golden fur gleams like gilded fabric beneath the silver moon, ethereal despite this beastly form.

Vines shackle your waist, tangling around your arms as he takes you prisoner, pulling back, shifting into a more recognisable form.

Lips pull back from gleaming white teeth as he gives you a feral smile—the ones that come out when he’s had a satisfying hunt. All it takes is that grin, and you know the night’s long from over. Glad for it not to be.

His power courses through you and you feel fur coating your skin, fangs protruding from your upper lip, claws curling into the ground as he transforms you. You meet his adrenaline dilated gaze, hunger blazing in their vivid green depths.

How could you refuse a look like that?

With a grin of your own, and a taunting snarl, you’re bounding away, skittering deep into the forest.

He gives you a head start before his roar shakes the leaves of the trees—he’s coming to find you.

Sleepy morning w/ Rhys

I love you 3000 by Jackson Wang

The sunlight warms your skin, softened by sleep.

His scent is all around you, and you’re smiling before you open your eyes. Stunning violet fills your world and you melt further under the sheets.

“Morning,” you mumble, nose scrunching as you give him a grin. He smiles, pressing his forehead to your own. “Morning,” he replies, voice deep and rough with disuse. His arms sliding around and beneath your waist, keeping you pressed against his front.

The two of you are utterly bare, skin on skin, and you’d have it no other way. It’s the best way to awaken, being able to feel him so entirely, knowing he’s so completely yours.

Your arms move over his shoulders as you roll him onto his back, stomach pressing to his. You shuffle further up his body, breasts softly pushing into his chest as you put a kiss to his lips.

Fingers tangle in his blue-black hair, mussed from sleep, and his tongue strokes over your own, hands bracing your waist as he sighs contently, entirely happy to indulge in you all morning.

You pull away, wanting to look at him.

Violet eyes sparkle with adoration, and your heart does something silly in your chest. It’s ridiculous, how he still has this effect on you, as if this is the first time you’re laying eyes upon him.

You hope the feeling never goes away.

Drunk night in w/ Mor

Golden by Harry styles

Laugher floods the room, and you know at once neither of you are fit to head out.

Mor’s golden hair is tied back from her lovely face, small baby hairs curling at the edges where they’ve slipped the constraint. “Hold still!” She laughs, but you duck away from her. “I am not letting you anywhere near my eyes,” you giggle, scrambling back on the sofa as she approaches with the stick of kohl. “You’ll poke my eye out!”

She laughs, and covers one of her eyes with her hand, “you’d make a good pirate. We could rule the seas together.” Tears flood your vision as she uses the tiny stick of pigment as a miniature cutlass, making neat, precise swipes through the air with the grace of a drunken warrior.

She’s so beautiful it hurt you to watch, how her smile is so full of bubbly, effervescent joy. How she continues to smile despite the world.

Should that smile ever be taken from her again…

You shake your head, banishing the thought with drunken luxury. You stumble to your feet, prying the stick from her slim fingers. You set it down on the table, take her cheeks in your hands, and plant a firm kiss to her mouth. She stiffens with surprise, then she’s melting and her hands are all over you.

Then you’re both tripping and stumbling until you fall onto the sofa, plans to go out long forgotten as you mould into one another, indulging in the soft warmth that comes from utter contentment.

General Taglist: @myheartfollower @tcris2020 @mali22 @amygdtjhddzvb @sfhsgrad-blog

Az Taglist: @azrielshadows1nger @jurdanpotter @positivewitch

[brattylikestoeat]

You are in his WILL???

Yes. We’ve been together 8 years.

I was really struggling to finish college not because I was dumb but because I had a lot going on in my family at the time. My grandfather died and my family was literally crumbling before my eyes. All the lies, manipulation, gaslighting had finally caught up to my mom and grandma. Going to Ohio and coming back really broke me.

Donald pushed me to finish and I literally mean pushed. I called him one day after meeting with my advisor and told him I was done. I wasn’t doing college anymore.

He drove across town meet with my advisor with me, got that settled, paid my tuition on the spot. Education is very important to him which is why he pushing me to get my Masters.

Two weeks later we sat down and told me when I finished he could promise two things, he’ll pay my rent and money.

I’m always money motivated. So I finished. Took two more years but I did.

He always paid my rent. And he gave me 10k the week I graduated. He also put me in his will. If and when he pass I get a percentage of his liquid cash.

Has he kept his word? Idk I only saw the paperwork after it was done and his lawyer and a notary had signed it. It could have been changed for all I know. But for the most part I trust him and his word. He has never lied or try to play with me.

And I also think it’s important to know it’s liquid cash. That doesn’t count investments, home, cars, ect. Whatever money is currently sitting in accounts I get a part of that. If his kids choose to sell his houses I don’t get a part of that. I don’t get a part of his military pension either.

So me being the business minded woman I am, put the 10k up. I never touched it. half went into a high yield savings account and the other went into a CD account.

I can touch the savings if I want to. The CD can’t be touched without penalty. But I don’t have a need to touch either. Donald pays rent and gives me money all the time. Ted pays “rent” he doesn’t but he think he does but I use that for utilities and groceries.

I also have a very good job on my own. 75% of my paycheck doesn’t touch my account it goes straight to my retirement which is matched by my company.

[drogba-prospect]

How This Central African City Became the World’s Most Expensive

S & M GOALS TEAMPLATE

Stretch Goals: Central African Republic Ranks Top 8 in FIFA World Rankings for Men's and Top 5 for Futsal

Micro Goals: All Time Laureus World Sports Awards Winner for Africans, Laureus Team Award, All Time African Footballer of the Year, AFCON Host Nation Champion*, African Transfer Record*,  Insead and WSJ Conferences*, Jeune Afrique Cover*, Verified LinkedIn Member*, and Agriculture Startup Reality TV

CAPÔI HABITANT CURRENCY MODEL

Pigou Effect, Corporate Tax Havens, Capital Gains Tax Havens, Private-Public Sectors, Joint Venture Plantations, Market Extension Mergers, with Business Incubators, and Enterprise Foundation, Holding Company, Subsidiaries, and Horizontal Integration for Monopoly.

A currency union (also known as monetary union) is an intergovernmental agreement that involves two or more states sharing the same currency. These states may not necessarily have any further integration (such as an economic and monetary union, which would have, in addition, a customs union and a single market). [Pigou Effect Currency (Short FX), Currency Board Currency (Retirement Fixed Exchange Rate), Market Currency (FX Long Currency)]

Gross national product (GNP) GNP is related to another important economic measure called gross domestic product (GDP), which takes into account all output produced within a country's borders regardless of who owns the means of production. GNP starts with GDP, adds residents' investment income from overseas investments, and subtracts foreign residents' investment income earned within a country. Whilst GDP measures the total value of goods and services produced within a country's borders, GNP focuses on the income generated by its residents, regardless of their location.

Gross National Income (GNI) is the total amount of money earned by a nation's people and businesses. It is used to measure and track a nation's wealth from year to year. The number includes the nation's gross domestic product (GDP) plus the income it receives from overseas sources.

Agriculture Central Hedge Fund, Mining Unions: Peninsula Agronomique Engineering, Commodities Options Exchange (Credit Spread Options, Farm REITs, Crop Production; Fertelizers and Seeds; Equipment; Distribution and Processing Stocks, Ag ETFs and ETNs, Ag Mutual Funds), Tableau Économiques, Investments Farms REITs, Art Financing Mardi Gras

Index Franc: Tobacco-Tobacco Soil Index/Franc Tabac Currency Pair (TBS/TAF)

The overlapping generations (OLG) model; consumption-based capital asset pricing model (CCAPM); Endogenous growth theory; Material balance planning; Leontief paradox; Malinvestment; Helicopter money; Modern monetary theory

Mercantilism Spectrum of CDF/CFA

CDF Raw Materials and CFA Products. (Prices); CDF Holding Company and CFA Conglomerate Company. (Equity and Dividend Yield); CDF is Gold Standard and CFA is Helicopter Money. (FX Rate/Hedging); CDF Helicopter Money [Supplier Currency] and CFA as Purchasing Power [Consumer Currency] (Currency Union & Currency Board and Negative Interest Rates); CDF is Congolese Franc and CFA is Central African Franc

DOS SANTOS FREE-ROLE

Supporting Striker (Inverted Winger)

Central Winger (False 10)

Overlapping Run/Defensive Winger (Half-winger)

An inverted winger is a modern tactical development of the traditional winger position. Most wingers are assigned to either side of the field based on their footedness, with right-footed players on the right and left-footed players on the left.[65] This assumes that assigning a player to their natural side ensures a more powerful cross as well as greater ball protection along the touch-lines. However, when the position is inverted and a winger instead plays inside-out on the opposite flank (i.e., a right-footed player as a left inverted winger), they effectively become supporting strikers and primarily assume a role in the attack.[66]

The "false 10" or "central winger"[55] is a type of midfielder, which differs from the trequartista. Much like the "false 9", their specificity lies in the fact that, although they seemingly play as an attacking midfielder on paper, unlike a traditional playmaker who stays behind the striker in the centre of the pitch, the false 10's goal is to move out of position and drift wide when in possession of the ball to help both the wingers and fullbacks to overload the flanks. This means two problems for the opposing midfielders: either they let the false 10 drift wide, and their presence, along with both the winger and the fullback, creates a three-on-two player advantage out wide; or they follow the false 10, but leave space in the centre of the pitch for wingers or onrushing midfielders to exploit. False 10s are usually traditional wingers who are told to play in the centre of the pitch, and their natural way of playing makes them drift wide and look to provide deliveries into the box for teammates.

In Italian football, the term mezzala (literally "half-winger" in Italian) is used to describe the position of the one or two central midfielders who play on either side of a holding midfielder and/or playmaker. The term was initially applied to the role of an inside forward in the WM and Metodo formations in Italian, but later described a specific type of central midfielder. The mezzala is often a quick and hard-working attack-minded midfielder, with good skills and noted offensive capabilities, as well as a tendency to make overlapping attacking runs, but also a player who participates in the defensive aspect of the game, and who can give width to a team by drifting out wide; as such, the term can be applied to several different roles.

On occasion, the false-10 can also function in a different manner alongside a false-9, usually in a 4–6–0 formation. Midfield collective of False 9, False 10, Box to Box, Holding, Half Winger, Attacking, Defensive. We are not stretching the defensive line itsself, but the space between the defensive line and the goalkeeper.

Thiago Motta’s ‘Super Offensive’ 2-7-2 Formation Explained: Instead of the traditional way of looking at a tactical set-up horizontally, the Brazil-born manager instead split the field into three vertical lanes. This means he effectively has seven players in the central channel with two players out wide on each flank.

Adjust Free Role System to The Scoreboard.

The Central African Games was an international multi-sport event for countries within Central Africa. (Boxing, Athletics, Tennis, Football, Rallycross, Olympic Weightlifting, Volleyball, Trap Shooting, Basketball)

The Central African Football Federations' Union, officially abbreviated as UNIFFAC[a], is a sports governing body representing the football associations of Central Africa.

RUSSE NOIR FOOTBALL

VEDETTE: 3-4-1-2 has 4 Pivot Formations so 5 Total: Transition to a 4-4-2 Diamond, Transition to a 4-4-2, Transition to a 4-2-3-1, Transition to a 3-3-1-3

Positional Game is Diamonds Tic-Tac-Toe with Enforcer and Avoider. Striker [Enforcer](Inverted Winger and Centre Forward), Deep Lying Playmaker [Avoider] (Holding Midfielder and Inverted Winger), and Sweeper Wingback Deep Lying Playmaker [Avoider] (Centre Back). Use Playing Styles, Manipulated Positions, and Combinational Games for Positional Play as Johan Cruyff students.

Angolan 4-4-2 Diamond Tic Tac Toe Variant: 1-3-4-2; (1) Falar Pelos Cotovelos (Sweeper Deep-lying Playmaker Wingback) (4) Diamond Rover (Diamond Rotation from Midfield, Wings, and Defensive Third) Counterpressing Pivot Pressing Triggers, Sweeper-Winger Pivots, Overlapping Runs, W; I; M; V; Box Keeping Formation with 3 Centre-Backs) [Key Stats: Front Foot, Pressing Triggers, Clearance, Aerial Duel, Interceptions, Blocked Shots, Tackles, Final Ball, Key Dribbles, Overlapping Runs, Set Piece Taker] Spacing, Possession, Pass Completion, and Counter Pressing with Pursuit and Ambush Predation One Team Box Touches and Capture the Flag with Analytics-Geometry Total Football Trixie Bet on CNS Drugs (Xanax and Modafinil); 1-1-2-1 Diamond Rover Futsal Pivot Formation

Define a run in one of two ways: (i) as a set of consecutive goals scored by one team, without the other team scoring a goal; (ii) as a set of consecutive scoring events by one team, each event being either a goal or one or more Set Piece. Play aggressive and with counter pressing and run it up on the score board in the first half and after halftime play defense. You get a break at half and it's easier to win when someone plays defense and looks for opportunities instead of Attacking.

Posterior Chain Super Compensation and Speed-Endurance (Elastic-Connective Tissue) Force-Velocity Curve; Crescent Moon Horizontal Plane Vertical Force Sprinting Mechanics.

Set Piece Stylistic Biomechanics: Shooting Knee at Wall for Curve and Placement Knee for Corner. Follow through with Shot with proper Body Alignment

Knee to Feet or Shoulder to Feet Cradling for Touch/Entertainment

Placement Mechanics: Arch-Heel Linedrive and Arch-Knuckle Raised Curve

UEFA Front Office Curriculum

Museum d'histoire: Broken down into three major section — “A Lineage of Coaches Players and Places,” “Proving Grounds” and “Cultures of Basketball” — City/Game documents how basketball first found its origins in the neighborhoods of NYC and then went on to produce a roster of local legends who played everywhere from Rucker Park and the Cage on West 4th Street to Christ the King High School and St. John’s University.

Agility Ladder Eyes Pocket: Eyes Between Defenders Feet and Ball, Numbered Footwork V-Step (Shifting Defenders with Momentum) et L-Step (Explosive First Step), All moves should form a Triangle or an Incomplete Triangle (Coup de Pied)

*Push-Pull Sprint/Shooting Cycle: Pull Glutes et Hamstring; Push Calf et Quads for Sprints.

Sprint Size Up: A series of feint Karaoké dribble moves with Eye Tricks (Fake Pass) but Sprint Position Finish

Triangle Philosophy: All Dribbling Moves should form a Triangle or an Incomplete Triangle while using V-Step (Shifting Defenders with Momentum) et L-Step (Explosive First Step).

Thé Crescent: In Close Dribbling; Crescent Footwork with L Shapes (Paul Pogba)

On the Run Dribbling Moves: Letters and Shapes; Still Play 1 on 1: Numbered Footwork

Piedi Felici Courts: Drills Side/Box Play with 1 Net; Design Vaporwave Action Painting Angels; Knee for Direction and Sole Drags for Dribbling Touch and Crescent Moon Sprint Mechanics

Gambling Games: 5 Roll (Captain, Ship, Crew); Live-Pool Betting Monopoly

Stylistic Biomechanics: Dribbling Foot To Ball Contact (Balls of Feet and Arch of Feet); Knee for Direction; Foot Drags; & Hip Angle, Crescent Moon Running Mechanics, and Laces Kick.

Diamond Football (15 mins)

Set Up

-Lay out two overlapping sets of 4 flat markers in the positions shown above.

-Ask the players to stand on a flat marker for their teams colour (Red on Red, Yellow on Yellow).

Instruction

-Whenever the ball goes out for a kick in or for the defenders ball, the players must stand on their markers before play begins.

-As soon as the ball has been played in, players are free to move.

-Reset everytime the ball goes out.

Coaching Points, Progressions Ect.

-Ask players to shout out what each position on the park is to devlop understanding of their roles.

-If you decide to go to a normal game , leave the markers out for a visual aid for the players.

-If more than 8 players, Add in Goalkeepers who would then play the ball out to the DF,LM,RM.

-Rotate Positions, Ask Players to stand on a marker they haven't been on before

RUSSE NOIR ACCENT

Lingua Franca of Renaissance Latin (Vocabulary) and Atlantic–Congo Fon (Grammar).

Volta–Congo is a major branch of the Atlantic–Congo family. Fon (fɔ̀ngbè, pronounced [fɔ̃̀ɡ͡bē][2]) also known as Dahomean is the language of the Fon people. It belongs to the Gbe group within the larger Atlantic–Congo family.

In linguistic typology, subject–verb–object (SVO) is a sentence structure where the subject comes first, the verb second, and the object third.

Haitian Creole (/ˈheɪʃən ˈkriːoʊl/; Haitian Creole: kreyòl ayisyen, [kɣejɔl ajisjɛ̃];[6][7] French: créole haïtien, [kʁe.ɔl a.i.sjɛ̃]), or simply Creole (Haitian Creole: kreyòl), is a French-based creole language spoken by 10 to 12 million people worldwide, and is one of the two official languages of Haiti (the other being French), where it is the native language of the vast majority of the population. The language emerged from contact between French settlers and enslaved Africans during the Atlantic slave trade in the French colony of Saint-Domingue (now Haiti) in the 17th and 18th centuries. Although its vocabulary largely derives from 18th-century French, its grammar is that of a West African Volta-Congo language branch, particularly the Fongbe and Igbo languages.

Prose Accent Congo and Modern Accent Congo.

Full Lips Endings with Vertical Narrow Mouth and Soft Rs.

A noun phrase – or NP or nominal (phrase) – is a phrase that usually has a noun or pronoun as its head, and has the same grammatical functions as a noun.

BELMÔNT'S SIN INDEX FUND PORTFOLIO 

Sin stock sectors usually include alcohol, tobacco, gambling, sex-related industries (Cabaret and Burlesque), and weapons manufacturers.

Diageo 

Phillip Morris

Sports Betting Investment Trust

Pharmaceuticals

Business Clusters with Scrum Management and Accelerators to produce Festivals.

Example: Create a Index Fund Portfolio of 15-20 Stocks and using Supply Side Economics to create Decentralized Gambling Economy.

BELMÔNT'S DECENTRALIZED GAMBLING ECONOMY

Corporate-Capital Gains Tax Haven

High Stakes Minimum Buy In

Card Gambling (Signal and President): Top 2 highest bids fight for the Coup d'état and the other two are lesser men, the lesser men are subordinates that aid in playing cards for the warlord, the winning team splits the money, the warlords switches based on the 13 cards dealt and bets placed, the first team to shed all of their cards win.

Domestic Gambling: Boxing

Retirement Gambling: Boat Racing

Residency Program for Tax Benefits

BELMÔNT'S TURF ACCOUNTING MODEL

+EV

Python Programming Gaussian Distribution

Exotic Options Trading Live Betting

Parlays Minimum for Round Robins

Daily Fantasy Sports Rakes

RUSSE NOIR PALACE

Definitions of ballroom. noun. large room used mainly for dancing. synonyms: dance hall, dance palace**. types: disco, discotheque.

Go Go Music Influenced, Eurphoric Trance Chord Progression Melody, Progressive House and Drum n' Bass Percussion-808 Call and Response Staccato Polyrhythm or Layered Kick and Punch 808.

In his 1972 study of French lute music, scholar Wallace Rave compiled a list of features he believed to be characteristic of style brisé. Rave's list included the following: the avoidance of textural pattern and regularity in part writing; arpeggiated chord textures with irregular distribution of individual notes of the chord; ambiguous melodic lines; rhythmic displacement of notes within a melodic line; octave changes within melodic line; irregular phrase lengths.

Have the Snare and Kick say, "Hi, How are you?" And the 808 say, "I am good thanks for asking.”

Use progressive House to push the Drums Conversation to either Fast and Punchy for Happy or Slow and Deep for Sad.

In technical terms, "go-go's essential beat is characterized by a five through four syncopated rhythm that is underscored prominently by the bass drum and snare drum, and the hi-hat... [and] is ornamented by the other percussion instruments, especially by the conga drums, rototoms, and hand-held cowbells."[5]

Polyrhythm: In music, a cross-beat or cross-rhythm is a specific form of polyrhythm. The term cross rhythm was introduced in 1934 by the musicologist Arthur Morris Jones (1889–1980). It refers to a situation where the rhythmic conflict found in polyrhythms is the basis of an entire musical piece.[1]

Four-on-the-floor (or four-to-the-floor) is a rhythm used primarily in dance genres such as disco and electronic dance music. It is a steady, uniformly accented beat in 4. 4 time in which the bass drum is hit on every beat (1, 2, 3, 4).[1] This was popularized in the disco music of the 1970s[2] and the term four-on-the-floor was widely used in that era, since the beat was played with the pedal-operated, drum-kit bass drum.[3][4] (Punch 808-Kick)

Polyrhythm 4 on the Floor examples 2:4 or 5:4

Hard trance is often characterized by strong, hard (or even downpitch) kicks, fully resonant basses and an increased amount of reverberation applied to the main beat. Melodies vary from 140 to 180 BPMs and it can feature plain instrumental sound in early compositions, with the latter ones tending to implement side-chaining techniques of progressive on digital synthesizers.

Singles Only Email Raves Blogger then Multi Market Distribution Deal: A distribution deal is a contract to release the music to platforms, but not own the publishing or exclusively lock the artist in. Record Artist Producer Label: Have Polyrhythm Artist earn Streaming Percentage under a Recording Artist Deal. Label has Distribution Above Me and I have Manufacturing over Polyrhythm Artist. Have a end of the Year Album for New Year's Raves!

BELMÔNT'S SYSTEM: CAPÔI RETAINER AGREEMENT WITH ASSET PROTECTION TRUST

Capo: Describes a ranking made member of a family who leads a crew of soldiers. A capo is similar to a military captain who commands soldiers. Soldier: Also known as a “made man,” soldiers are the lowest members of the crime family but still command respect in the organization.

A capo is a "made member" of an Italian crime family who heads a regime or "crew" of soldiers and has major status and influence in the organization.

Consigliere: Defense and Corporate Lawyers

Head Boss: Ministry of Medicine

Underboss: Pharmaceutical Industry

Capo: CAPÔI RETAINER AGREEMENT

Soliders: Artisans

Commercialism is the application of both manufacturing and consumption towards personal usage, or the practices, methods, aims, and distribution of products in a free market geared toward generating a profit.

Commercial art is art created for advertising or marketing purposes. Commercial artists are hired by clients to create images and logos that sell products. Unlike works of fine art that convey an artist's personal expression, commercial art must address the client's goals.

The word 'Commercial' is defined as follows: Concerned with or engaged in commerce. Commerce is the exchange of goods or services among two or more parties.

Craftsmen are committed to the medium, not to self-expression. Artists are committed to their self-expression, not the medium.

A medium of exchange is an intermediary instrument and system used to facilitate the purchase and sale of goods and services between parties.

Stretch and Micro Goals

Music Medium System: Distribution and Retailers Contract Theory (System) for Music (Instrument)

Football Medium System: Analytics and Geometry for Free Role (System) Trixies (Instrument)

Age 16-19

Bond Funds

Farmland REITS

CFDS

Real Estate Brokerage Trust Account

Age 20-30

Farmland Recession Proof Stocks (Cosmetics, AgTech, Ag ETFS, AgETN)

Incubator and Startup Accelerators

Real Estate Joint Ventures

Age 30-40

Farmland Blue Chip Indexes w/ Credit Spread Options

CURRENCY, OIL, & GOLD COMMODITIES CANDLESTICK CHARTS

Swing Trading: Use mt4/mt5 With Heiken Ashi Charts, Setting at 14 or 21 Momentum Indicator above 0 as Divergence Oscillator and Volume Spread Analysis as Reversal Oscillator and Trade when bullish candlesticks above 200 exponential moving average and/or 20 exponential moving average (EMA) on H1 (Hourly) Time Frame; use H4 (4 Hours) and D1 (1 Day) as reference.

TUNNEL STRATEGY (OFFSHORE BANKING)

Purpose: Permanent Residency Card

$250k Deposit

$125k: 60/40 portfolio, 60% Fixed Income & REITs and 40% Blue Chip Stocks

$50k: Guaranteed Investment Certificates (GICs) and term deposits are secured investments. This means that you get back the amount you invest at the end of your term. The key difference between a GIC and a term deposit is the length of the term. Term deposits generally have shorter terms than GICs.

$75k: Spending Cash

SIN STOCKS PORTFOLIO

Sin stock sectors usually include alcohol, tobacco, gambling, sex-related industries, and weapons manufacturers.

Sports Betting Investment Trust

Pharmaceuticals

Example: Create a Index Fund Portfolio of 15-20 Stocks and using Supply Side Economics to create Decentralized Gambling Economy.

FESTIVALS DEAL

Singles Only Email Raves Blogger then Multi Market Distribution Deal: A distribution deal is a contract to release the music to platforms, but not own the publishing or exclusively lock the artist in. Record Artist Producer Label: Have Polyrhythm Artist earn Streaming Percentage under a Recording Artist Deal. Label has Distribution Above Me and I have Manufacturing over Polyrhythm Artist. Have a end of the Year Album for New Year's Raves!

NEUROPLASTICITY DRUG-CRIME NEXUS BASED ON TRAFFICKING

CPP, CNS Depressants, et FENTALOGS: Cul-de-sac

Defensive Penalty Capture The Flag Raiding Warfare

Grey-Decentralized Markets

Bastilles: Cul-de-sac Artist Résidences Penthouse Complexes

Polyrhythm Raves

Acid House Art Gallery

International Film Festival

Hôtel Chefs

Seigneurial System/Tableau Economique Raw Material Économics Production Spot

Surautomatism

Discount Networking Acid House Party

Opium Dens and Fragrance Festivals

Pill Pressers

CNS depressants

Upper-tier County System

Defense Lawyers are Traplords (Trafficking P4P and Malicious Prosecution)

Cash Conversion Cycle (CCC)

Brain Receptor Dealing

Neuroplasticity Drug-Crime Nexus

Religious Ecstasy

Entheogens are psychedelic drugs—and sometimes certain other psychoactive substances—used for engendering spiritual development or otherwise in sacred contexts

Live-Pool Betting Monopoly Board Game

Summary Sentencing

Urban Level: Street Culture Art Gallery (Street culture may refer to: Urban culture, the culture of towns and cities, Street market, Children's street culture, Street carnival, Block party, Street identity, Street food, Café culture, Several youth subculture or counterculture topics pertaining to outdoors of urban centers. These can include: Street art, Street photography, Street racing, Street wear, Hip-hop culture, Urban fiction, Street sports, Streetball, Flatland BMX, Freestyling), Art Pedagogy, Artist Residency, Art Schools, and Art Plugs

Art Pedagogy: Arts-based pedagogy is a teaching methodology in which an art form is integrated with another subject matter to impact student learning. 28-30. Arts-based pedagogy results in arts-based learning (ABL),11 which is when a student learns about a subject through arts processes including creating, responding or performing. Aesthetic Teaching: Seeking a Balance between Teaching Arts and Teaching through the Arts. In aesthetic education, learning must be developed especially with the inclusion of sensations and with the help of feelings. Sensations and feelings should lead to movement, representation, and expression. Aesthetic learning often entails learning to distinguish certain qualities or objects aesthetically in different ways depending on the situation and the purpose. Certain things can be experienced in negative ways in one activity and in positive ways in another.

A designer drug is a structural or functional analog of a controlled substance that has been designed to mimic the pharmacological effects of the original drug, while avoiding classification as illegal and/or detection in standard drug tests

Patchwork tattoos are a collection of tattoos collaged together to create an overall design. Each individual 'patch' of the tattoo can be a different design, symbol or element with a little space in between. Patchwork tattoos are a collection of tattoos collaged together to create an overall design. In short, the gun-toting angel was a multifaceted metaphor. “It undoubtedly also reflected the Catholic Counter-Reformation militaristic rhetoric,” wrote Donahue-Wallace, “which promoted the church as an army and heavenly beings as its soldiers.”

DECADENCE AESTHETICS THEORIES

Slogan

J'Cartier, Je cours après les vœux de champagne,

Subjective

Based on or influenced by personal feelings, tastes, or opinions

Gastronomy

Precarious Balance

Precariously: If something is happening or positioned precariously, it's in danger. A glass could be precariously balanced on the edge of a table. If something is on the verge of danger, then the word precariously fits.

Grey & Decentralized Markets

Tableau Économique

Semblance

Semblance is generally used to suggest a contrast between outward appearance and inner reality.

High Socioeconomic Status & Tattoos

Phantasmagorical

Having a fantastic or deceptive appearance

adjective. having a fantastic or deceptive appearance, as something in a dream or created by the imagination. having the appearance of an optical illusion, especially one produced by a magic lantern.

Socioeconomic Status Development Immigration Multilingual Sensory Play

Law of Polarity in Relationships

In any successful relationship that has an intimate connection and sexual attraction, there is polarity. What does this mean exactly? Polarity in relationships is the spark that occurs between two opposing energies: masculine and feminine. Gender does not affect whether you have masculine or feminine energy.

Second Reflection

Burden Aesthetics with Intentions

The Second Reflection lays hold of the Technical Procedures

Tattoos

SOCIO-PSYCHOLOGY

Keystone Theory Habits

Game Theory

Behavioral Finance

Self-actualization is the complete realization of one's potential, and the full development of one's abilities and appreciation for life. This concept is at the top of the Maslow hierarchy of needs, so not every human being reaches it.

Potential Psychology: Psychological potential is a very broad concept. It may include one's capacity to conform, change, re-invent oneself, bounce back from adversity, etc.

SOCIO-FORMAL SCIENCE

+EV Optimal Game Theory Poker

Civil, Agriculure, Solvent Levelling Effect Chemical Reaction, and Biomechanical Engineering

SOCIO-PHILOSOPHY

Ontology

IMPERIALISM, THE HIGHEST STAGE OF CAPITALISM

Imperialism, the Highest Stage of Capitalism,[1] originally published as Imperialism, the Newest Stage of Capitalism,[2][3] is a book written by Vladimir Lenin in 1916 and published in 1917. It describes the formation of oligopoly, by the interlacing of bank and industrial capital, in order to create a financial oligarchy, and explains the function of financial capital in generating profits from the exploitation colonialism inherent to imperialism, as the final stage of capitalism. The essay synthesises Lenin's developments of Karl Marx's theories of political economy in Das Kapital (1867).[4]

Tax Mergers Law; Market-extension merger: Two companies that sell the same products in different markets. 4.2.2 Corporate Taxation At the corporate level, the tax treatment of a merger or acquisition depends on whether the acquiring firm elects to treat the acquired firm as being absorbed into the parent with its tax attributes intact, or first being liquidated and then received in the form of its component assets.

SOCIOCULTURAL THEORY OF DEVELOPMENT

Seconds Liberal Arts are often viewed as pre-professional since, while conceived of as fundamental to citizenship, they address the whole person in recognition that our moral and spiritual identities develop best through participation in a society that perpetually renews the rights and responsibilities of membership.

Executive management master's degree programs often result in an Executive Master of Business Administration, or EMBA. They are primarily designed to act as accelerated graduate programs for working professionals who already hold management or executive positions.

Engineering college means a school, college, university, department of a university or other educational institution, reputable and in good standing in accordance with rules prescribed by the Department, and which grants baccalaureate degrees in engineering.

Monopoly Family Boarding Schools: The socio-historical context refers to the societal and historical conditions and circumstances that influence events or individuals. It involves elements like the cultural, economic, and political circumstances during a certain time period.

Agriculturism is an ideology promoting rural life, a traditional way of life. It is characterized by the valorization of traditional values (the family, the French language, the Catholic religion) and an opposition to the industrial world.

CAPÔI CLASS STRUCTURE

Demonym Examples: CAR Congolese, Gabon Congolese, Afrikaans Congolese, and Congolese

Monopoly Family (Apartheid)

Chief Executive of State (Apartheid)

Political Class (RUSSE NOIR)

Upper Class (RUSSE NOIR)

Working Class (RUSSE NOIR)

JEAN-CLAUDE TRAORÉ BUSINESS ADVICE

Blue Ocean Strategy; Solvent Levelling Effect Chemical Reaction Engineering and Economic Science.

TENNIS AGRICULTURE

A clay-court specialist is a tennis player who excels on clay courts, more than on any other surface.

Due in part to advances in racquet technology, current clay-court specialists are known for employing long, winding groundstrokes that generate heavy topspin; such strokes are less effective on faster surfaces on which the balls do not bounce as high. Clay-court specialists tend to slide more effectively on clay than other players. Many of them are also very adept at hitting the drop shot, which can be effective because rallies on clay courts often leave players pushed far beyond the baseline. Additionally, the slow, long rallies require a great degree of mental focus and physical stamina.

CASAPIANOS MARTYROLOGY ORDER (CATHOLIC COUNTER-REFORMATION)

The Casa Pia is a Portuguese institution founded by Maria I, known as A Pia ("Mary the Pious"), and organized by Police Intendant Pina Manique in 1780, following the social disarray of the 1755 Lisbon earthquake. For almost three centuries, thousands of young boys and girls were raised by Casa Pia, including many public personalities, called casapianos. Casa Pia is Portugal's largest educational institution dedicated to helping youngsters in risk of social exclusion or without parental support. The organisation is composed of ten schools and enrolls approximately 4700 students. In addition to standard schooling, the organisation also provides boarding for children in need. It strives to enable these youngsters to become healthy and successful members of society, by developing intellectual, manual, and physical traits, in an environment promoting spiritual, moral, and religious values. The institution is proud to have had amongst its students many outstanding Portuguese personalities, including politicians, journalists, and artists. A martyrology is a catalogue or list of martyrs and other saints and beati arranged in the calendar order of their anniversaries or feasts. Local martyrologies record exclusively the custom of a particular Church. Local lists were enriched by names borrowed from neighbouring churches.[1] Consolidation occurred, by the combination of several local martyrologies, with or without borrowings from literary sources.

The Canons Regular of St. Augustine are priests who live in community under a rule (Latin: regula and κανών, kanon, in Greek) and are generally organised into religious orders, differing from both secular canons and other forms of religious life, such as clerics regular, designated by a partly similar terminology. As religious communities, they have laybrothers as part of the community.

Clerics regular are clerics (mostly priests) who are members of a religious order under a rule of life (regular). Clerics regular differ from canons regular in that they devote themselves more to pastoral care, in place of an obligation to the praying of the Liturgy of the Hours in common, and have fewer observances in their rule of life.

Lay brother is a largely extinct term referring to religious brothers, particularly in the Catholic Church, who focused upon manual service and secular matters, and were distinguished from choir monks or friars in that they did not pray in choir, and from clerics, in that they were not in possession of (or preparing for) holy orders.[1][2][3][4][5]

In female religious institutes, the equivalent role is the lay sister. Lay brothers were originally created to allow those who were skilled in particular crafts or did not have the required education to study for holy orders to participate in and contribute to the life of a religious order.

Lay brothers were found in many religious orders. Drawn from the working classes, they were pious and hardworking people, who though unable to achieve the education needed to receive holy orders, were still drawn to religious life and were able to contribute to the order through their skills. Some were skilled in artistic handicrafts, others functioned as administrators of the orders' material assets. In particular, the lay brothers of the Cistercians were skilled in agriculture, and have been credited for the tilling of fertile farmland.[1]

Lay sisters were found in most of the orders of women, and their origin, like that of the lay brothers, is to be found in the necessity of providing the choir nuns with more time for the Office and study, as well as creating the opportunity for the illiterate to join the religious life. They, too, wore a habit different from those of the choir sisters, and their required daily prayers consisted of prayers such as the Little Office or a certain number of Paters.[1]

All canons regular are to be distinguished from secular canons who belong to a resident group of priests but who do not take public vows and are not governed in whatever elements of life they lead in common by a historical rule. One obvious place where such groups of priests are required is at a cathedral, where there were many Masses to celebrate and the Divine Office to be prayed together in community.

In modern astrology, Mars is the primary native ruler of the first house. Traditionally however, Mars ruled both the third and tenth houses, and had its joy in the fifth house. While Venus tends to the overall relationship atmosphere, Mars is the passionate impulse and action, the masculine aspect, discipline, willpower and stamina.

Mars rules over Tuesday and in Romance languages the word for Tuesday often resembles Mars (in Romanian, marți, in Spanish, martes, in French, mardi and in Italian "martedì"). The English "Tuesday" is a modernised form of "Tyr's Day", Tyr being the Germanic analogue to Mars. Dante Alighieri associated Mars with the liberal art of arithmetic. In Chinese astrology, Mars is ruled by the element fire, which is passionate, energetic and adventurous.

According to John Clements, the term martial arts itself is derived from an older Latin term meaning "arts of Mars", the Roman god of war, and was used to refer to the combat systems of Europe (European martial arts) as early as the 1550s

A religious congregation is a type of religious institute in the Catholic Church. They are legally distinguished from religious orders – the other major type of religious institute – in that members take simple vows, whereas members of religious orders take solemn vows.

In the Catholic Church, a religious order is a community of consecrated life with members that profess solemn vows. They are classed as a type of religious institute.[1]

Catholic School Girls Moon Evangelical Prophets: Consecrated life is "placed in a privileged position in the line of evangelical prophecy," whereby its “charismatic nature” and communal discernment of the Spirit "makes it capable of inventiveness and originality.”

Men Mars Angelology Conversion System: Church Enterprises (Planetary Intelligence Church District Real Estate; Liberal Arts Catholic Immersion Schools; Gold; Athletics; Cooking);

Church Gatherings (School Nights Virgil, Weekend Noon Mass then Weekend Sports League) Francis de Sales and Don St. Bosco Influence 

Harquebusier Angels Patchwork Tattoos: Biblical Crowns, Praying Hands, Gun Toting Angels, Dirty Dancing Angels, Drug Using Angels, Heavenly Choir, Summa Theologica Sherman, Saints and Pastors, Hebrew Tetragram, Council of Trent

HARQUEBUSIER ANGELS GANG BLUEPRINT: PARDISUS MEDIAE; Spirit Unity Oversoul Angelology Shaman, Eros Influence Angels: Ecstasy-Painkillers Trafficking Angel Spirit Type Oversoul, Jupiter-Mars-Venus with Planetary Intelligence; Erotes are Horcruxes, Google Imprint Oversoul, Choice of Choir is Heavenly Host, Lightning-Ice Element, Wings Transfer Invocation, MARS-JUPITER  Syncretism Planetary Intelligence, ESTJ Sensory Myers-Briggs Personality Indicator Syncretism, Church Expenses Occupation (Festivals, Venues, Freeports, Art Gallery, Underground Garages, Tobacco Store, Restaurants, Réal Estate Brokerage, Impure Aesthetic Thrillers Publishing Imprint et Production Company, Body Etching, Lipodissolve, and Hyaluronic Acid Fillers Cosmetics Surgery

ANGOLAN HARQUEBUSIER ANGELS STRUCTURE; Commission on the Social and Cultural Affairs; Commission for Ecumenism; The Commission on Christian Education; Liturgical Commission; Missionary Committee; Chief Executive of State and Military Religion Legislation; Stretch and Micro Goals

Material religion is a framework used by scholars of religion to examine the interaction between religion and material culture. It focuses on the place of objects, images, spaces, and buildings in religious communities. The framework has been promoted by scholars such as Birgit Meyer, Sally Promey, S. Brent Plate, David Morgan, etc.

Physiocracy (French: physiocratie; from the Greek for "government of nature") is an economic theory developed by a group of 18th-century Age of Enlightenment French economists who believed that the wealth of nations derived solely from the value of "land agriculture" or "land development" and that agricultural products should be highly priced.[1] Their theories originated in France and were most popular during the second half of the 18th century. Physiocracy became one of the first well-developed theories of economics.

The Bible typically describes the Heavenly host as being made up of angels, and gives several descriptions of angels in military terms, such as their encampment (Genesis 32:1–2), command structure (Psalms 91:11–12; Matt.13:41; Rev.7:2), and participation in combat (Job 19:12; Rev.12:7). Other passages indicate other entities make up the divine army, namely stars (Judges 5:20, Isaiah 40:26).[1][full citation needed] In Christian theology, the heavenly host participate in the war in Heaven.

The doctrine or theory of immanence holds that the divine encompasses or is manifested in the material world. It is held by some philosophical and metaphysical theories of divine presence. Immanence is usually applied in monotheistic, pantheistic, pandeistic, or panentheistic faiths to suggest that the spiritual world permeates the mundane.

The Dionysian Mysteries were a ritual of ancient Greece and Rome which sometimes used intoxicants and other trance-inducing techniques (like dance and music) to remove inhibitions and social constraints, liberating the individual to return to a natural state. 

Religious nationalism can be understood in a number of ways, such as nationalism as a religion itself, a position articulated by Carlton Hayes in his text Nationalism: A Religion, or as the relationship of nationalism to a particular religious belief, dogma, ideology, or affiliation. This relationship can be broken down into two aspects: the politicisation of religion and the influence of religion on politics.

Dioceses ruled by an archbishop are commonly referred to as archdioceses; most are metropolitan sees, being placed at the head of an ecclesiastical province. In the Catholic Church, some are suffragans of a metropolitan see or are directly subject to the Holy See.

The body of light, sometimes called the 'astral body'[a] or the 'subtle body,'[b] is a "quasi material"[1] aspect of the human body, being neither solely physical nor solely spiritual, posited by a number of philosophers, and elaborated on according to various esoteric, occult, and mystical teachings. Other terms used for this body include body of glory,[2] spirit-body, luciform body, augoeides ('radiant body'), astroeides ('starry or sidereal body'), and celestial body.[3] The concept derives from the philosophy of Plato: the word 'astral' means 'of the stars'; thus the astral plane consists of the Seven Heavens of the classical planets. The idea is rooted in common worldwide religious accounts of the afterlife[4] in which the soul's journey or "ascent" is described in such terms as "an ecstatic, mystical or out-of body experience, wherein the spiritual traveller leaves the physical body and travels in their body of light into 'higher' realms."[5]

The canon law of the Catholic Church (from Latin ius canonicum[1]) is "how the Church organizes and governs herself".[2] It is the system of laws and ecclesiastical legal principles made and enforced by the hierarchical authorities of the Catholic Church to regulate its external organization and government and to order and direct the activities of Catholics toward the mission of the Church.

An institute of consecrated life is an association of faithful in the Catholic Church canonically erected by competent church authorities to enable men or women who publicly profess the evangelical counsels by religious vows or other sacred bonds "through the charity to which these counsels lead to be joined to the Church and its mystery in a special way".[1] They are defined in the 1983 Code of Canon Law under canons 573–730. The Congregation for Institutes of Consecrated Life and Societies of Apostolic Life has ecclesial oversight of institutes of consecrated life.[2]

In Christianity, the three evangelical counsels, or counsels of perfection, are chastity (NEVER), poverty (or perfect charity), and obedience (RECKLESS ABANDONMENT).[1] As stated by Jesus in the canonical gospels,[2] they are counsels for those who desire to become "perfect" (τελειος, teleios).[3][4] The Catholic Church interprets this to mean that they are not binding upon all, and hence not necessary conditions to attain eternal life (heaven), but that they are "acts of supererogation", "over and above" the minimum stipulated in the biblical commandments.[5][6]

Catholics who have made a public profession to order their lives by the evangelical counsels, and confirmed this by public vows before their competent church authority (the act of religious commitment known as a profession), are recognised as members of the consecrated life.

The Council of Trent (Latin: Concilium Tridentinum), held between 1545 and 1563 in Trent (or Trento), now in northern Italy, was the 19th ecumenical council of the Catholic Church. Prompted by the Protestant Reformation at the time, it has been described as the embodiment of the Counter-Reformation. The Council issued key statements and clarifications of the Church's doctrine and teachings, including scripture, the biblical canon, sacred tradition, original sin, justification, salvation, the sacraments, the Mass, and the veneration of saints[4] and also issued condemnations of what it defined to be heresies committed by proponents of Protestantism. The consequences of the Council were also significant with regard to the Church's liturgy and censorship.

Initiated in part to address the challenges of the Protestant Reformations,[3] the Counter-Reformation was a comprehensive effort arising from the decrees of the Council of Trent. The effort produced apologetic and polemical documents, heresy trials, anti-corruption efforts, spiritual movements, the promotion of new religious orders, and the flourishing of new art and musical styles. 

Tradwave is a Catholic artistic style using synthwave and vaporwave art to promote traditional catholicism. Tradwave usually uses traditional catholic paintings, sculptures, or photographs of saints, given with vaporwave effects, often with a bible verse or quote about catholicism. The art usually tries to convey a resurrection of catholic spirituality in the modern atheist world. Figures often depicted in Tradwave art include Jesus Christ, the Virgin Mary, Ven. Fulton Sheen, Cardinal Robert Sarah, and Mother Angelica.

Tradwave music often takes the form of two main styles. One of them is catholic hymns with vaporwave effects and traditional Vaporwave/Lo-Fi music. It can also have quotes from modern prolific Catholic figures, such as Ven. The other theme is Fulton Sheen and Cardinal Robert Sarah.

Heavenly Virtues: Another phrase to describe this obedience to the voice is “reckless abandon.” It simply means that we let God do what God wants to do through us. It means if He tells us to do something or say something—we do it.

Intercession or intercessory prayer is the act of praying to a deity on behalf of others, or asking a saint in heaven to pray on behalf of oneself or for others. Intercession of the Saints is a Christian doctrine that maintains that saints can intercede for others. To intercede is to go or come between two parties, to plead before one of them on behalf of the other. In ecclesiastical usage both words are taken in the sense of the intervention primarily of Christ, and secondarily of the Blessed Virgin and the angels and saints, on behalf of men.[2] The doctrine is held by the Catholic, Eastern Orthodox Churches, the Assyrian Church of the East, the Oriental Orthodox churches , and some Lutherans and Anglicans (chiefly those of Evangelical Catholic or Anglo-Catholic churchmanship, respectively).[3] The practice of asking saints for their intercession can be found in Christian writings from the 3rd century onwards.[4][5][6] Catholic doctrine supports intercessory prayer to saints. This practice is an application of the doctrine of the Communion of saints. Some of the early basis for this was the belief that martyrs passed immediately into the presence of God and could obtain graces and blessings for others, which naturally and immediately led to their direct invocation. A further reinforcement was derived from the cult of the angels which, while pre-Christian in its origin, was heartily embraced by the faithful of the sub-Apostolic age. The doctrine of intercession and invocation was set forth by the Council of Trent, which teaches that "... the saints who reign together with Christ offer up their own prayers to God for men. It is good and useful suppliantly to invoke them, and to have recourse to their prayers, aid, and help for obtaining benefits from God, through His Son Jesus Christ our Lord, Who alone is our Redeemer and Saviour".[10] Intercessory prayer to saintly persons who have not yet been beatified can also practiced by individuals, and evidence of miracles produced as a result of such prayer is very commonly produced during the formal process of beatification and canonization.

In short, the gun-toting angel was a multifaceted metaphor. “It undoubtedly also reflected the Catholic Counter-Reformation militaristic rhetoric,” wrote Donahue-Wallace, “which promoted the church as an army and heavenly beings as its soldiers.” These "Harquebusier Angels" or "Arcabuceros" are full-length depictions of winged angels, elaborately dressed, and carrying matchlock guns (harquebuses).

The related term astrolatry usually implies polytheism. In anthropological literature these systems of practice may be referred to as astral cults.

A friar is a member of one of the mendicant orders in the Roman Catholic Church. There are also friars outside of the Roman Catholic Church, such as within the Anglican Communion. The term, first used in the 12th or 13th century, distinguishes the mendicants' itinerant apostolic character, exercised broadly under the jurisdiction of a superior general, from the older monastic orders' allegiance to a single monastery formalized by their vow of stability. A friar may be in holy orders or be a non-ordained brother. The most significant orders of friars are the Dominicans, Franciscans, Augustinians, and Carmelites.[1]

Romans 8:31; Exploring Biblical Imagery is one of the most important keys to interpreting and gaining a deeper understanding of the Bible. The Bible often communicates truth to us through images and patterns.

Throughout history, armed priests or soldier priests have been recorded. Distinguished from military chaplains, who are non-combatants that provided spiritual guidance to service personnel and associated civilians, these priests took up arms and fought in conflicts as combatants. The term warrior priests or war priests is usually used for armed priests in Antiquity and the Middle Ages, and of historical tribes.

Slang: In Romans 8:5-8, Paul presents a compelling contrast between living according to the flesh and living according to the Spirit. The flesh, with its disordered desires and rebellion against God, leads only to spiritual desolation. Martyr, one who voluntarily suffers death rather than deny their religion by words or deeds; such action is afforded special, institutionalized recognition in most major religions of the world. The term may also refer to anyone who sacrifices their life or something of great value for the sake of principle. A religious allusion is a brief reference to a person, event, place, or phrase from religious texts or traditions, without describing them in detail. 5 Those who live according to the flesh have their minds set on what the flesh desires; but those who live in accordance with the Spirit have their minds set on what the Spirit desires. 6 The mind governed by the flesh is death, but the mind governed by the Spirit is life and peace. 7 The mind governed by the flesh is hostile to God; it does not submit to God’s law, nor can it do so. 8 Those who are in the realm of the flesh cannot please God. Martyr/Romans 8 Allusion Slang.

Romeu e Julieta (Casapianos Order 1996 Adaptation 18+ Romance Thriller)

While it retains the original Shakespearean dialogue, the film represents the Montagues and the Capulets as warring mafia empires (with legitimate business fronts) and the Capulets were "a Latin family, sort of,"[15] played by Latin-American and Italian actors.[16] It is set in contemporary United States, where swords are replaced by guns[17] (with model names such as "Dagger", "Sword", and "Rapier"), and with a FedEx-style overnight delivery service called "Post Haste".[18] Shakespeare and Impure Aesthetics explores ideas about art implicit in Shakespeare's plays and defines specific Shakespearean aesthetic practices in his use of desire, death and mourning as resources for art. In fiction, a subplot or side story is a secondary strand of the plot that is a supporting side story for any story or for the main plot. Subplots may connect to main plots, in either time and place or thematic significance. Subplots often involve supporting characters, those besides the protagonist or antagonist. Subplots may also intertwine with the main plot at some point in a story.[1]

THE ENCYCLICAL PASSIONARIES ABOUT YHVH CASAPIANOS

Specifically, the royal psalms deal with the spiritual role of kings in the worship of Yahweh. Aside from that single qualification, there is nothing else which specifically links the ten psalms. Each of the psalms make explicit references to their subject, the king. Royal (messianic) psalms deal with the king as God's anointed or chosen one. Many are prayers for the wisdom of the king, his long life or success in battle. Some are prophetic in nature in that they also point to the ideal future king, the Messiah or the King of kings. A martyrology is a catalogue or list of martyrs and other saints and beati arranged in the calendar order of their anniversaries or feasts. Local martyrologies record exclusively the custom of a particular Church. Local lists were enriched by names borrowed from neighbouring churches.[1] Consolidation occurred, by the combination of several local martyrologies, with or without borrowings from literary sources. Simple martyrologies only enumerate names. Historical martyrologies, also sometimes called passionaries, also include stories or biographical details. (Reckless Abandonment; Mars Shamanism and Casa Pia Wing Transfer Invocation)

In the martyrdom narrative of the remembering community, this refusal to comply with the presented demands results in the punishment or execution of an individual by an oppressor. Accordingly, the status of the 'martyr' can be considered a posthumous title as a reward for those who are considered worthy of the concept of martyrdom by the living, regardless of any attempts by the deceased to control how they will be remembered in advance.[1] Insofar, the martyr is a relational figure of a society's boundary work that is produced by collective memory.[2] Originally applied only to those who suffered for their religious beliefs, the term has come to be used in connection with people killed for a political cause. (Armed Friars and The War for Central Africa between Casapianos and The French; The Fall of Yoruba for Bembé; Arcubusier Angels in Africa)

The Metal Ages is a term for the period of human civilization beginning about 6,000 years ago during which metallurgy rapidly advanced, and human populations started using metals such as copper, tin, bronze and finally iron to make tools and weapons. By heating and shaping metals in hot furnaces, humanity also learned to use precious metals such as gold and silver to make intricate ornaments.[1][2] With these technological adaptions, human society became more productive and human settlements became larger and more prosperous, but also more violent.[3] The Metal Ages are divided into three stages: the Copper Age, the Bronze Age, and the Iron Age.[1][2] (Calcium Age of Angola)

5 SENSES FESTIVAL MONTHLY (CASAPIANOS ORDER)

Heortology or eortology is a science that deals with the origin and development of religious festivals,[1] and more specifically the study of the history and criticism of liturgical calendars and martyrologies*. Religious Ecstacy Entheogens are psychedelic drugs—and sometimes certain other psychoactive substances—used for engendering spiritual development or otherwise in sacred contexts.

Sight: Fireworks on Water Front

Sound: Casapianos Palace Raves

Scent: Overnight Fragrance

Taste: Lamb and Wool

Touch: Tomato Food Fight

🇦🇴🇦🇴🇦🇴🇦🇴🇦🇴🇦🇴🇦🇴🇦🇴🇦🇴🇦🇴🇦🇴🇦🇴🇦🇴🇦🇴🇦🇴🇦🇴🇦🇴🇦🇴🇦🇴🇦🇴🇦🇴🇦🇴🇦🇴🇦🇴🇦🇴🇦🇴🇦🇴🇦🇴🇦🇴🇦🇴🇦🇴🇦🇴🇦🇴🇦🇴🇦🇴🇦🇴

CASA PIA REPUBLIC

[mysoulspiralbound]

Malevolent Portal! AU

Some ideas:

Arthur lost his vision in a lab accident on the same floor he acquired his companion cube, John. He's honestly lucky the high energy pellet didn't kill him completely, but the electricity damaged both his eyes and some of the feeling in his left arm

(Please do not worry about medical accuracy. Here at Aperture Science, all side effects are good side effects!)

Later, he'll acquire an Aperture Science Experimental Prosthetic for it, which John will be able to take over if needed.

KAYNE (Kinetic Activity Yielding Necessary Education, but I will gladly take other acronym suggestions) takes the place of GLaDOS, but is just as invested in making the test subject as miserable as possible.

The KiY program takes the place of Wheatley. Not a full naritive 1 to 1, but it was the best fit I could find.

There's no cake at the end of the road for Arthur, but KAYNE does promise him that he can take the "companion cube" with him when he finishes testing.

Before meeting John, KAYNE used to promise to let him see Faroe again. Arthur found an accessory of hers poorly hidden next to one of the incinerators. Now KAYNE dangles the safety of his "companion cube" over his head instead.

The original portal game mentions a bring your daughter to work day, offering it as "a good opportunity to get her tested". I haven't gone anywhere specific with this yet, but it will probably end up part of Faroe's story.

After discovering he'd lost Faroe for good, Arthur had to be moved to paired testing to get any results at all. He and Parker were put through several of the military test levels together. Parker was the one who taught him how to safely take out the turrets, but he couldn't dodge them forever.

KAYNE decided this clearly meant Arthur needed a sturdier companion, hence the introduction of the companion cube!

Unlike in the original game, this version of the companion cube does have a level of intelligence to it. A corrupted back up file of the KiY program. (KAYNE does not realize this when he gives John to Arthur).

As a cube John can't really move or feel, but he can access the same security cameras KAYNE can in order to guide Arthur through the floors.

Arthur finds the name John Doe in a list of dead as tracked by Anna Stanczyk's notes, which were hidden mid level alongside some canned food and empty water jugs. John can't "see" inside since it's hidden from the security camera's.

Arthur explains that John Doe is the name for an unidentified dead or missing person. It's a human name, not a program name, and John gets rather attached.

I'll probably have more details/ thoughts later, but this was mostly spawned by watching my friend play portal for the first time, and a general desire to draw malevolent, so it's not super fleshed out. Thanks for reading!

[thegreymoon]

The Story of Minglan

So, she's still alive, smh.

The ONE thing I was asking for from this rebellion and they couldn't even give me that 😠

***

ARE YOU KIDDING ME?

Didn't your actual WIFE die yesterday? Aren't you supposed to be in mourning, for appearance's sake at least?

I thought we were done with him and his nonsense but apparently not.

***

She was only PRETENDING?

Why won't this drama let me have good things 😭😭

***

LMAOOOO

Baby is here to take back his home! He is now best buddies with the new Emperor, evil stepmom can seethe 🤣🤣

***

Are you kidding me?

I thought she would have more dignity and be openly hostile, not fawn over him so blatantly.

As if he would fall for her act twice.

***

Their faces, LMAO 🤣🤣

***

LMAO

Adult!Gu Tingye never really made it onto my list of favourite characters but I absolutely love how Feng Shaofeng plays him 🤣🤣 He's so smooth and charming, an absolute rascal! He smiles and I smile, no matter whether it's genuine or not!

***

Well, in my view, with all their money and lack of boundaries, these wastrel young masters could be doing much worse, such as raping and murdering (like the gentlemen from the Fourth and Fifth Gu house did in their time).

Third Brother is at least only out supporting the economy by frequenting brothels and hopefully paying the sex workers well. The Song Empire should send him an Imperial decree expressing its gratitude.

***

This is the full irony of her evildoing.

And even if he did not yield the title, what could she have possibly wanted that he would not have given?? She and her incompetent son had it made! But no. Nothing is enough when you're born too greedy for your own good.

***

Eh... not quite, but almost.

I am fascinated by these people. "We have spent your whole life hating you and ruining your life for no good reason, but how dare you not love us in return?"

LOLOLOLOL

Even Lin Qinshuang had more shame.

***

I live for beautiful scenery in c-dramas 💚

***

WHAT DO YOU MEAN YOU ARE NOT TAKING THE EXAM?

I'm more invested in him passing this exam than I am in me passing any of mine, which is obvious from the amount of time I spent watching his shenanigans instead of studying 😕

***

Cackling 🤣🤣

He's always so outraged by the lack of propriety 🤣🤣

I love the two of them, they are such a good pair! One is so proper and the other so improper!

***

LMAO, yes, panic 🤣🤣

It's episode 36, you loser! How long do you expect the girl to wait for you? You had better hurry!

***

God, this is nice 😭😭

I wish I had the skill to turn this into art! 💚

***

Oh, yes, it is the Old Madam you are eager to visit 🙄

IDK why, but he gives me the ick.

He hasn't really done anything wrong but he's always so nice and kind and sweet and subservient, plus he's not the OTP. All the alarm bells in my head are RINING!!

***

WHO THE FUCK?

I knew there was something shady about him, smh.

***

ARE YOU KIDDING ME?

Where do all these cockroaches come from?? Are there no single men in China to marry and you must go after someone who already has a wife??

I AM MAD.

***

LMAO, he at least has the decency to be shocked.

So, he is not on board this nonsense. Good. But is that what happens to screw up his marriage to Minglan? His family insists on him marrying this woman?

[dbh-ankcon]

DEVASTATING to me that tom interpreted shiv’s call in the final episode of season 3 as an impending betrayal just because his role in a reorganized waystar had not yet been determined.

the siblings were all going out on a limb. NO ONE’S role had been concretely decided. they all made the mutual decision to put their individual egos aside (insofar as people groomed for endless greed and narcissism are able to do) and joined forces against the common enemy of their father.

the natural, immediate impulse of shiv to call tom was an act of trust (insofar as a person like shiv is able to extend something resembling trust). tom heard, “shiv isn’t looking out for me, so i have to look out for myself.” but she wouldn’t have looped tom in if she truly thought he was disposable! shiv isn’t sentimental enough for that! shiv holds her cards too close to her chest for that!

tom looks at shiv’s pattern of behavior and sees a person who’s discarded and disregarded him time and time again. and, when playing by the rules of normal society, he’s right. but shiv is playing by the rules of the roy family. actively advocating for tom at every juncture wouldn’t yield the results tom expects: all that ceaseless advocacy would do is render shiv soft in the eyes of her father, and it would sink them both.

the ultimate irony in all of this is that the most seemingly callous action of shiv’s was actually the most beneficial to tom. it ingratiated tom to logan thoroughly enough to enable tom to betray shiv. of course, i’m talking about shiv’s straightforward conclusion that tom expressing a willingness to take the fall and go to prison would be the most painless option for everyone involved. including tom.

because shiv knows a year of (white collar) prison would be an investment for tom that would pay off in DROVES. it would establish tom as someone respectable and loyal to logan. and it did. tom’s stated willingness to fall on logan’s sword ultimately brought him close enough to logan to allow him to sell out his wife.

because tom can’t take the heat. he doesn’t understand why shiv keeps throwing him into the fire. and shiv doesn’t understand why tom is so resistant. this is the fire he married into, after all. why can’t he toughen up like she has? the added tragedy here is that, in a different context, tom’s difference in constitution from that of her family is likely what drew shiv to tom in the first place. but, paradoxically, his inability to assimilate is also what disgusts her about him.

i’m not sayin’ shiv is a Good Partner. but what i am saying is that tom is not automatically a better one just because he’s more emotional and sentimental than shiv. shiv tries to love him with the tools she’s been given. but, uh, those tools are the emotional equivalent of using a bendy straw to suck all the water out of one of the roy family’s million dollar infinity pools.

[pagan-stitches]

June — Josef Lada

🍒 JUNE or ČERVEN in Czech is a month of beautiful weather, high temperatures and, above all, end of the school year, if you're a kid! 🍒

🔥 Some years, June is the month of the Czech Pentecost called Letnice to which we connect some interesting folkloric rituals: https://www.czechology.com/letnice/

✝️ June 13 is the day of St. Anthony of Padua (sv. Antonín Paduánský) and the name day of every man and boy called Antonín.

✨ The night before June 24 is believed to be magical, so prepare your herb basket: https://www.czechology.com/st-johns-eve/

🌽 It is the beginning of the crop yield season (žně in Czech), although it will be in full swing a little later. Our forefathers had special rituals and especially songs that helped them pass the day raking the straw and arranging it into piles.

🚜 Children helped with small tasks like bringing food and drinks and their reward was a barn full of fresh straw that they could play and even sleep in.

🌱 There is a lot of field work going on. Cold-sensitive plants have been in the earth since mid May and now it's time to take care of them - fertilize, get rid of the weed and protect from all the pests. Some plants have already given their fruit, such as strawberries or spinach.

🥗 Children used to help their parents with everything when it came to laboring the field. This was the time families invested all their effort into filling their pantries for winter. And let's not forget that during feudalism, people had to spend up to several days a week laboring the field of their landlord.

🍽️ Acquiring at least a small field was an aspiration of everyone in the countryside.

Having a field meant being able to feed the family. Some people made extra income by collecting forest fruit and selling it on the markets.

🦞 Children also used to catch crayfish in the river. This animal is now protected by law.

- - - - -

🌈 June weather sayings:

- Chladný květen, červen vlažný – je pro sýpky, sudy blažný. (If May is cold and june tibid, barns and barrels will be full.)

- Červen stálý – prosinec dokonalý. (Constant June - perfect December)

- Hřímá-li v červnu, zvede se obilí. (If there are thunders in June, the wheat will be good.)

- Jestli červen mokrý bývá, obilí pak málo rodívá. (Wet June makes the wheat crops small.)

- Červen mokrý a studený – bývají žně vždy zkaženy. (If June is wet and cold, the harvest is always ruined.)

- Jaká parna se v červnu dostaví, tak se i prosincové mraky postaví. (There will be as many clouds in December as there is heat in June.)

- Medardova kápě, čtyřicet dní kape. (If it rains on Medard's Day - June 8 - it will rain for 40 more days).

From: https://www.czechology.com

[heartmachinez]

Pangea: Creating A Multiplayer Rogue-lite With Endless Open Worlds

We’ve shared extensively about our tech art strategies and proc gen processes in both a recent Heart to Heart with Len White and Christian Sparks as well as on our dev blog. We’ve also discussed our environment art works in progress in a different Heart to Heart with Will Tate and on our blog as well.

That was all months ago; often, a few months can mean a lifetime in game development.

Original Vision

Years ago now, when Alx was ideating on the design pillars of the game, the question that came to mind was “what would you do in an open world you’d never see again if you die?”

With that in mind, we made decisions in the early days of our game to try for a more reasonable approach of this idea as we built our systems, since it seemed insurmountable. So, we created an adjacent version, something that captured parts of this design ideal. We had a large, open biomes, but they were segmented in a stage-by-stage format to make it more feasible for us to build.

Over the course of development, we found that, as we continued to build the technology needed for these smaller open-biomes, that we could actually leverage the tools to make the original vision a reality. Thus, we shifted away from the more limiting and (ironically) more complex version of a stage-to-stage progression, and started on a “Pangaea Shift”.

The Shift

Pangaea is used as a code name, as we were essentially merging all of our stages into one larger map to create an open world.

This shift meant that we would mean that we lose some time up front reconfiguring some parts of the game to function in the ne structure, but gain time on the backend and a much more exciting game format to dive into. We were excited and scared, all at once.

This shift yields us:

Highly differentiated points of interest on a global scale, resulting in entirely new biomes to explore instead of sub-variations of the same biomes

Reduced per-level workload for Houdini, focusing on simpler, bolder biome elements since the context of other biomes being present shifted the dynamics of play so significantly

The ability to generate dynamic, global components that affect the whole run / playthrough, rather than just stage or biome-specific elements, opening up tons of exciting mechanics

A truly open world, procedurally generated, with biomes juxtaposed seamlessly on the same map

An open world you’ll only see once

It’s a thought that leads to a lot of questions and exciting ideas. How much do I explore this world? How much time do I invest, knowing I could die at any turn? What are the pressures driving me forward in this world? What’s new, exciting, different this time? What’s coming next?

These are all questions we ask and answer for development, and ones we are excited for you all to see the conclusions of for yourselves in Early Access and beyond!

Wrap Up

What do you think of our process shift? Share your feedback!

See you next time, Breakers!

-The Heart Machine Team