#Free Financial Calculators

[techtotalk-blog]

Cash Compute-Empower your financial decisions with our Free Financial Calculators. From mortgage to retirement planning, access powerful tools for informed choices. Take control of your finances today!

[themanwhowouldbefruit]

couldn't even get served at the sports bar dear god please kill all hipsters and bring back destielblr

[truemindcapital]

Financial Freedom Calculator

A financial freedom calculator helps calculate the amount of money required to become financially independent and retire early. It is frequently used in connection with FIRE (Financial Independence, Retire Early) goals. In order to estimate the required investment, it considers variables such as inflation, predicted returns, and current expenses.

Here's a breakdown of how these calculators work and what they typically involve:

Finding Your FIRE Number: The 4% rule, which states that you can take out 4% of your investment portfolio each year without gradually exhausting it, is a popular method.

 Multiplying your desired yearly expenses by 25 is an additional technique. This is predicated on a 4% withdrawal rate and a 25-year requirement to pay costs.

2. Key Inputs:

• Monthly/Annual Expenses: Enter the costs of housing, utilities, food, and other living expenses, both now and in the future. • Expected Return Rate: Enter the average yearly return you hope your assets will provide. • Inflation Rate: Take into consideration the gradual decline in purchasing power. • Years to Retirement: Decide on a deadline for reaching financial independence. • Life Expectancy: To calculate how long your investments must survive, take into account your anticipated lifespan.

3. The Calculator's Use: • Estimates Savings Needs: The calculator will determine how much you must invest in order to pay your bills and become financially independent. • Calculates Necessary Monthly Investments: It can assist you in figuring out how much you must invest every month in order to meet your savings targets. • Monitors Progress: The calculator allows you to monitor your progress toward financial independence and make any adjustments to your savings strategy.

4. Financial Freedom Calculator Examples: • Truemind Capital's Financial Freedom Calculator: This tool assists you in planning your retirement fund by accounting for your existing fund, living expenditures, inflation rate, life expectancy, and returns after retirement. • Financial independence Calculator: Using monthly spending, inflation, estimated return, and years to financial independence, this calculator helps you figure out how to get there. • FIRE Calculator: This tool assists in determining your FIRE number, or the minimum amount of money required for early retirement and financial freedom. • Goal Builder with Goal Calculator: This tool assists you in planning your financial objectives and determining how much you must set aside and how long it will take to attain them.

[myonlinetools]

Percentage Calculator: Your Essential Tool for Solving Percentage-Based Problems

Calculating percentages is a vital skill used in various aspects of daily life, from solving math problems to making financial decisions. Whether you are trying to figure out discount percentages, understand interest rates, or determine percentage increases and decreases, a percentage calculator can save time and eliminate the guesswork.

In this comprehensive guide, we explain how percentage calculations work, provide examples, and showcase different types of percentage-based calculations. Use this guide to sharpen your math skills and make informed decisions in everyday situations.

What Is a Percentage? Understanding the Basics

A percentage represents a part of a whole, expressed as a fraction of 100. The word “percentage” is derived from the Latin term per centum, which means “by the hundred.” Percentages are often used in financial analysis, retail sales, taxation, population statistics, and much more.

For example:

50% means 50 out of 100.

25% means one-quarter of a whole.

100% represents the entire quantity.

Calculating percentages can sometimes seem tricky, but with the right formula and a reliable percentage calculator, it becomes a straightforward process.

How to Calculate Percentages: Key Formulas

There are three primary types of percentage problems that you may encounter:

1. Finding the Percentage of a Given Number

This is the most common type of percentage calculation. To find the percentage of any given number, use the following formula:

Percentage (%) = (Part / Whole) × 100

Example: If you want to find out what percentage 20 is of 200:

(20 / 200) × 100 = 10% So, 20 is 10% of 200.

2. Calculating the Percentage Increase or Decrease

This type of calculation is useful when you want to measure changes in values over time, such as price increases or salary adjustments.

Percentage Change = [(New Value – Old Value) / Old Value] × 100

Example (Percentage Increase): If your salary increases from $50,000 to $55,000:

[(55,000 – 50,000) / 50,000] × 100 = 10% This means your salary increased by 10%.

Example (Percentage Decrease): If a stock’s value drops from $150 to $120:

[(150 – 120) / 150] × 100 = 20% This indicates a 20% decrease in the stock’s value.

3. Finding the Original Number from a Percentage

In some cases, you may know the percentage and the resulting amount but need to calculate the original number.

Original Number = Part / (Percentage / 100)

Example: If 30% of a number is 90, what is the original number?

90 / (30 / 100) = 90 / 0.3 = 300 The original number is 300.

Practical Applications of Percentages

1. Shopping Discounts

Percentages are widely used in retail to calculate discounts and final prices. Imagine you see a pair of shoes that costs $100 with a 20% discount. To find out how much you’ll pay after the discount:

20% of $100 = (20 / 100) × 100 = $20

Final price = $100 – $20 = $80 So, you’ll pay $80 after the discount.

2. Financial Calculations: Interest Rates and Investments

In finance, percentages are critical for calculating interest rates, loan repayments, and investment returns. For example, if you invest $1,000 in a savings account with a 5% annual interest rate, your interest for the year will be:

5% of $1,000 = (5 / 100) × 1,000 = $50 After one year, your total balance will be $1,050.

3. Health and Fitness: Body Fat Percentage

Percentages are also used in health and fitness, particularly when measuring body fat percentage, calorie intake, and other vital metrics. Tracking percentage changes in body weight can help individuals monitor their progress toward fitness goals.

Why Use a Percentage Calculator?

A percentage calculator is a convenient tool that helps you perform percentage-based calculations quickly and accurately. Whether you are solving complex math problems or making everyday financial decisions, a percentage calculator can:

Save Time: Perform calculations in seconds without manual effort.

Reduce Errors: Eliminate the risk of making common percentage-related mistakes.

Enhance Productivity: Focus on analyzing the results instead of spending time crunching numbers.

Common Types of Percentage Calculators

Depending on your needs, you can use various types of percentage calculators, including:

1. Percentage Increase Calculator

Ideal for measuring growth over time, such as price hikes, salary increases, and population growth.

2. Percentage Decrease Calculator

Useful for tracking declines, such as stock price drops or reductions in monthly expenses.

3. Discount Calculator

Perfect for shoppers who want to determine final prices after applying discounts.

4. Tip Calculator

Helpful for calculating tips in restaurants. For example, if your bill is $50 and you want to leave a 15% tip:

15% of $50 = (15 / 100) × 50 = $7.50 So, you’ll leave a $7.50 tip.

5. Reverse Percentage Calculator

This tool helps you find the original number before a percentage was added or subtracted.

Tips for Mastering Percentage Calculations

To improve your understanding of percentages and become more proficient in solving percentage-based problems, follow these tips:

Practice Regularly: The more you practice, the more confident you’ll become in calculating percentages.

Use Real-Life Examples: Apply percentage calculations to real-life situations, such as shopping, budgeting, or investing.

Double-Check Your Work: Always review your calculations to ensure accuracy.

Leverage Online Tools: Use online percentage calculators for quick and reliable results.

Conclusion: Simplify Your Calculations with a Percentage Calculator

Understanding percentages is essential for making informed decisions in various aspects of life, from shopping and finance to fitness and beyond. By using a percentage calculator, you can solve percentage-based problems quickly, accurately, and effortlessly. Whether you’re calculating discounts, measuring percentage changes, or determining original values, this powerful tool can enhance your productivity and accuracy.

Mastering percentage calculations will not only improve your math skills but also give you greater confidence in handling numbers in real-world situations. Start using a percentage calculator today and take the guesswork out of percentage-based problems!

[asterafroditis]

hey so how do you think Riddle and Azul would deal with a crush who’s a helpful hard worker, if they in project together, crush works well with them and they get good grades, but they have no long term goals and ambitions and zones out a lot. Azul and Riddle, the most ambitious ones ever, are just like “She has no ambitious aura at all?! Wtf?!” And crush is just like

𐔌 . ⋮ no ambitions?! .ᐟ ֹ ₊ ꒱

☓┆ Riddle & Azul x gn! reader (separate)

𓏵 722 words

ᝰ.ᐟ headcanons, no pronouns used, fluff

Had lots of fun writing this out! can definitely relate to reader on some levels _(:3 」∠)_ feel free to like, reblog, or comment!

ᝰ.ᐟ masterlist

Riddle had initially been thrilled to be paired with you for the history project.

You were competent, diligent, and respected deadlines — a rare combination at NRC. Working alongside you was... pleasant, even calming, a sharp contrast to the usual chaos of Heartslabyul.

You would share notes, summarize chapters neatly, and double-check the requirements without him even needing to prompt you. Riddle found himself looking forward to study sessions, mind buzzing not just with textbooks, but the warm thought of how well you worked together.

“They’re so dependable. Such good habits... maybe—maybe I should invite them for tea next time.”

But it wasn’t long before he noticed something... odd.

During a break, while sipping tea he had insisted on brewing properly (“Sloppily made tea reflects a sloppy mind,” he said sternly), he asked in casual conversation, "So. What field do you intend to specialize in after graduation?"

You blinked at him, head tilting in that innocent, peaceful way you did.

"Hm? I dunno. Haven't really thought about it," you said, chewing on a cookie thoughtfully. "I'll figure it out later, maybe."

Riddle stared at you like you had sprouted horns.

"Y-you haven't thought about it?!"

You smiled serenely, resting your chin on your palm.

"Nope. As long as I'm doing okay right now, it's fine."

Riddle nearly dropped his teacup.

“No long-term plan? No ambitions? No charted career path?!”

He tried to cover his shock with a polite cough.

"Ahem. W-well, it is critical to set objectives and milestones to ensure steady personal growth," he said, words tumbling over each other. "I would be happy to assist you in making a detailed five-year plan—"

You just gave him that sweet, blissfully vacant smile. "Maybe someday! Thanks though, Riddle!"

Riddle sat stiffly in his chair, clutching his teacup as a vein throbbed in his temple.

“They're so efficient now, but they're... they're drifting like an unmoored boat! A brilliant, hardworking boat with no rudder! How is this happening?!”

He spent the rest of the project trying very, very hard not to think about how he found your aimless serenity oddly... endearing. Infuriating. But endearing.

─────────────────────────

Azul knew right away he was lucky when you were assigned as his partner for the class project.

You were attentive, methodical, and didn’t slack off — the dream partner. He thought to himself, “If only more students had such discipline, Mostro Lounge’s financial reports wouldn’t give me migraines...”

You even handled the trickier parts of the research without complaint. Azul was impressed.

“Efficient. Cooperative. Excellent work ethic. Perfect for building an empire together... Wait. No. Focus, Azul.”

He started to entertain the notion that you might be someone he could genuinely trust—a terrifying but strangely exciting thought.

So during a quieter moment at the Lounge after polishing up your project proposal, he asked, casual but calculating:

"And... what are your future plans? You strike me as someone who could achieve quite a lot if you applied yourself."

You twirled a straw idly in your drink, legs swinging lightly under the table.

"Future plans? Hm... Nah. I’m just kinda going along. I’ll figure something out when I have to."

Azul's smile froze for a fraction of a second.

"You... don't have a strategy? Or even a preliminary outline of your goals?"

You smiled brightly.

"Nope!"

Inside, Azul shrieked.

On the outside, he adjusted his glasses, masking the horror behind a tight, businesslike smile.

"I... see. How... refreshingly spontaneous."

But in his mind, it was chaos.

“No ambition?! No hustle?! No grand designs for success and power?! How can someone so competent lack the drive to leverage it?!”

Every fiber of his being itched to offer you a job at Mostro Lounge, start you on a 12-year plan, sign you up for five internships, and drag you bodily toward greatness.

But you just smiled and went back to doodling something random on the margins of your paper like you hadn’t just shattered his worldview.

Still... as much as it made his head spin, Azul couldn't deny it was... weirdly comforting to be around you.

Maybe it was nice, once in a while, to sit across from someone who didn’t constantly scheme and scramble. Someone content with now.

It drove him insane.

But he kept finding excuses to study with you anyway.

[honeytonedhottie]

financial literacy continued⋆.ೃ࿔*:･👛💵

so i released a poll if you guys would like a post on financial literacy and the results are here. so im gonna share some things that i learned while taking a financial literacy course…💬🎀

HOW TO SAVE MONEY ;

automatically deposit a certain percentage of ur income into ur savings account so that u dont even have to think about it

to do something more FUN tho, (at least in my opinion) is to make a challenge where u have to save every $10 dollar bill, or $20 dollar bill or whatever. just something to make saving money seem like a game if u wanna have some fun with it.

EMERGANCY FUND ;

most experts will tell u that ur emergency fund should be 3-6 months of ur needed expenses. so calculate ur needed expenses and multiply that by 6 to figure out how much you'd need to have in ur emergency fund.

PAYING YOURSELF FIRST ;

you should always put urself first in every single situation including financially. so to pay urself first simply means to put ur future and needs before anything else. FOR EXAMPLE... let's say u wanna buy an ipad by the end of the year, an ipad is $345.

lets also say that u get paid weekly, so you'd divide $345 by the number of weeks in a year (52) you'd get 6.6. so you'd have to save roughly $6-$6.50 a week which isnt a lot at all. and you'd be getting what u want.

INTEREST AND CREDIT ;

interest is like a reward that the bank gives you for trusting them to look after your money. the more money you have in your account, and the longer you keep it there, the more interest you can earn…💬🎀

so the bank calculates interest as a percentage of the total amount in a bank account. so if the bank pays a 1% interest you'll earn $1 for every $100 in ur bank account over the course of a year. so if u have $500 in ur account you'll get $5. its not a lot, but interest builds on itself.

credit is the ability of the consumer to acquire goods or services prior to payment with the faith that the payment will be made in the future…💬🎀

for example missing payment deadlines can negatively affect ur credit score. why is this important? if u wanna go to college and wanna use student loans, u might not be able to if ur credit history is bad. as ur credit history grows you'll get a credit score. the higher ur score, the better ur credit is.

BUILDING CREDIT ;

get a secured card. a secured credit card is a special type of credit card with a down payment. when you open the card, you will give the credit card company a deposit to hold. it can be as little as $100. the company holds the money for you and gives you a credit card with a line of credit equal to your deposit

sign up for victoria's secret direct paper mailers. you'll get a coupon each month for 1 free panty for every purchase. when u go to the mall, get urself a panty and a sweet treat 🧁 (DO NOT PUT ANYTHING ON THE CARD THAT U CANT IMMEDIATELY PAY OFF)

and then go home and pay ur credit card bill off, and then dont use it again until the next month.

[selenepsyche]

Using the Vertex Persona Chart as a Relocation Chart

In a birth chart, the vertex is a point in the chart that represents fated situations and encounters. Basically, there's no way around it, whether it's a good or bad encounter. No matter what path you are on, you will end up in that situation or meeting that certain someone. I apologize if this sounds scary. This is a very sensitive point and moves fast in a birth chart, so you need your accurate birth time to calculate yours.

Persona charts offer deeper looks into the placements in our birth charts, to get a better understanding of other placements besides the sun. In persona charts, the point or planet is the star and everything else is revolving around it. A vertex persona chart can show you a deeper look of what's fated to occur in your life.

I saw an astrology post on here from a while ago about how you can use your vertex persona chart as a relocation chart and astrocartography chart to see what you are meant to experience in certain locations. Unfortunately, I lost the damn post, but the credit for this idea goes to them. I will tag them when I find it again.

But the idea makes a lot of sense. When I look at mine, I can now see why I was drawn to certain places, why I struggle a bit in my current location, why I have a lot of friends from certain locations, etc.

But first, let me teach you how to generate your vertex persona chart as a birth chart to get your relocation chart and astrocartography chart.

I didn't feel like typing it all out and taking many screenshots, so hopefully this video will help y'all!

A Few Examples

Venus in the 1st House - This location will attract beauty, love, and admiration into your environment. You will embody Venusian qualities more strongly when you move here. Relationships, personal style, and self worth will play a big role in your experience in this location. It can also indicate a boost in attractiveness, social appeal, and a desire to form new connections.

North Node in the 8th House - Your growth in this location is meant to revolve around deep emotional and financial transformations. You will be pushed towards intense experiences that may involve relationships, shared finances, occult studies, or psychological growth. You could meet people who challenge you to face your fears, embrace vulnerability, and evolve spiritually. Inheritances, joint finances, and powerful connections will change your life path.

Jupiter in the 10th House - This location will expand your reputation and career significantly. This will bring major opportunities, status growth, and leadership roles. You will become more well known, respected, and fortunate in your career. You could achieve something big in the public light.

Sun in the 3rd House - Your identity will be tied to learning, networking, speaking, and writing. You will become involved in media, education, or build strong social circles in your local community. You could be active in your immediate environment, commuting and traveling often. This could also indicate a stronger bond with siblings or neighbors in this new location.

Mars in the 11th House - A lot of your energy will be directed towards friendships, social movements, and group projects. You may become involved in activism, networking, and building a strong social presence (could do it online too). There could be conflicts or competitive dynamics within friend groups, but the potential for leadership is big. You may feel driven to pursue big goals through collaborations or technology-related ventures.

Thank you for reading! I will create more parts in the future to do more detailed explanations for placements in the vertex persona chart being used as a relocation chart. In the meantime, if you have questions, feel free to ask of course!

written by: @selenepsyche. do not steal or i'll smite you. entertainment purposes only.

[f0ofishies]

You were just a nice addition to the company's financial team. Either you were hired because of your pretty looks, or maybe you're just pleasing to the eyes. Now Giyuu Tomioka was having a hard time– that pretty face of yours was just so distracting to him. He was the finance leader, getting promoted just recently. . .

. . .But you were as dumb as can be. How? You were terrible at statistics. Seriously, why did the boss even hire you in the first place? That's why the team made you some free use. When someone needs some coffee? You'd be there in a jiffy with their preferred creamer or sugar or plain old black. Maybe, when they needed something to be copied over by the machine? You'd be in the copy room for hours to help with that.

The only one who never regarded you was the leader, Giyuu. He had a problem with you or something? You couldn't tell at all, you pursued your lips shut. He was explaining some new project the team was assigned. Honestly, the information went from one ear and out the other.

Your eyes looked up wide as giyuu's thumb slid against your lips. "Naughty baby.." Letting out a small grunt that escaped your lips, you unsubconciously nestled between his legs. "Giyuu– stop teasing.." You let out that whine. Back at the meeting room, but doors locked, everybody had left it left only you two in the tense atmosphere. He'd only ever notice you when he wanted to fuck.

"Eh? But you weren't even listening to my instructions, were you?" You shaked your head as you leaned your head out. "–I did, giyuu.." He harshly tilted your chin further. "Then tell me, why are you grinding me like a degenerate whore right now?" That was not a lie, you'd been quivering– your hole spasming at the slightest touch of that blucher shoes of his. The heel stimulates your drenched undies, so good you held back a moan.

"Mmm, can't help myself when I'm with you.." You reasoned, trying to get on his good side. The one that fucks you slowly and lovingly like you were so fragile to him, you would break in an instant. No. . no, he was looking at you with desire those lapis blue eyes staring down at you– you could literally climax in an instant.

"A fuckin' slut. . .recount what I just said, hm?" His voice went on a lower octave, fuckfuckfuck. You were going to lose it, "Yes well–" another subtle grind from you to his shoes. "You instructed us to calculate the sum of—" Your breath hitched as he had wrapped a hand around your throat, squeezing lightly. "Dumb.. dumb bunny, that isn't even correct.."

"What?" Then you felt it another squeeze— you'd be gasping for air right now, but the lightheaded as you were. You'd let out a hard breath, blinking. Giyuu was never this rough, not that you don't want.. no, you want it— it was just weird. "Get your fucking ass on the desk now."

Your tears were nonstop at this point, crying at this point. He'd been edging for how long? Fuck, it didn't matter anymore. The spanks, slaps, and spewing insults didn't matter. You needed his dick now. . ! Even with the way his spit rolled down on your sensitive nub without his fingers, there's no way you'd even fit half of it in.

"Shitt— it's not gonna fit if you don't relax..!" You really did try, but he was penetrating so rough– the pain and pleasure letting out your high-pitched moans bouncing the meeting room. He grabbed your face and then stared, both of you sharing a moment of bliss from his roughness. "Sweetheart, you gotta relax.. just spread your legs better.. 'Kay?"

"Hold your legs—agh.. fuckk you're tight just like last night?"

[hobivore]

Transient | LMH

— Lee Minho x reader (f)

Growing up in the casino business, you—now standing at the head of your family’s imperium—know all the tricks of the trade. Rule number one: don’t gamble. It would be such an easy rule to follow if it weren’t for your company’s most trusted lawyer, Minho Lee, who loves nothing more than to raise the stakes.

AU/Trope: lawyer!au, smut (minors DNI)

Warnings: sub!minho, rope bondage, sensory deprivation (blindfolding), impact play (face slapping), wax play, knife play, one small drop of blood, choking, spitting, light cockstepping, no aftercare, power dynamics, complicated ‘relationship’ (two people using each other because they’re bad at feelings)

WC: 4.8k

A/N: This piece was originally uploaded to my old sideblog linoguistics and written for the s! week sub!skz event by @skzseasons​, check them out for more. Many thanks to the wonderful @hesperantha for beta reading. ILY!

© hobivore Reposts, translations and modifications are not allowed. All events and characters are fictional and for entertainment purposes only.

— SKZ masterlist | Ask box

“Will that be all, boss?” 

Boss. The word ricochets against his teeth and rolls off his tongue like a caged bird set free. Only Minho Lee could make a title sound like that: like a prayer, a taunt, a pet name, a challenge.

The tilt of his head tells you he already knows this isn’t all. Of course he knows; it’s nearing 1 a.m. on a Tuesday, and you wouldn’t have him come over to your apartment only to deliver you the most recent news on the acquisition of Full House Entertainment. Sure, it’s an important step for your company, but acting the herald is way below his pay grade.

No—Minho is here for something else entirely, and his feigned innocence is all part of this cat and mouse game the two of you have been playing for years now. 

He waits for your answer, shoulders straight, something subversive to the set of his mouth. You let your gaze travel down his figure, stretching out the silence until it thickens the air with tension. Your fingers play with the silver necklace around your neck, lingering on the edge of your collarbone, and he swallows. 

You suppress a chuckle at the familiar, telltale sign betraying him. In a way, you and Minho have grown into your roles in the company alongside each other. It had been your father who had hired him—although he probably wouldn’t have, had he known the man would end up in his daughter’s bed—when Minho was fresh out of law school, stiff-collared, hungry, ready to take on the world. 

To Minho’s credit, he remains still, and when your eyes meet his again you see a hint of that same fervour behind them. But rather than a spark of wildfire, it’s the burning of a furnace; calculated and controlled, white-hot. 

“Drink?” you inquire, more command than question, walking towards the cabinet and opening a whiskey decanter. He follows your movements, watching closely. Even when you turn around to pick up a glass you know his gaze never travels below your shoulders. His self-restraint is admirable. 

“Tell me,” you hand him his drink and he takes it, clinking the edge of the glass against yours. “What do you think of Nick Blake?” 

Minho narrows his eyes. “He’s a fool.”

Nick Blake is the current chief financial officer of Full House Entertainment. You’ve been told that although he may be new to the position, he shows promise, so you tilt your head in interest at Minho’s response.

“I’ve heard other things.” 

Minho swirls the liquor around in his glass and shrugs. “Whoever you heard that from is wrong. You should’ve asked me.”

You raise an eyebrow at his brusque tone. Few men would have the guts to say something like that to your face—or behind your back, for that matter. But Minho has never been anything but forthright with you, quickly becoming one of your most trusted employees. And he knows it; knows he can get away with a lot more than the average member of your staff. 

You decide to challenge him, to push back a little and see if he stands his ground. “Last time I checked, this was my company. I’m perfectly capable of deciding who to seek out for counsel.”

“It is. You are. But none of us benefit from mistakes. I don’t trust him.” 

You sigh. Ever since you took over from your father the company has grown explosively. The profits are great, but with diverse lines of business comes an increased difficulty in oversight. You find yourself needing to rely on others more and more—something you don’t particularly like. 

“So you think I should fire him?”

Minho takes a swig of his whiskey, eyes meeting yours. “I don’t know, aren’t you the boss?” he retorts, defiant, one brow raised. 

You snort—an ungraceful sound—and he grins. You put your glass down on the cabinet and give him a small nod. “Thank you for your honesty. I will reconsider Blake’s position.”

A silence falls between the two of you, not unwelcome, some of the earlier tension permeating the air again as your eyes fix on the curve of his cupid’s bow. The anticipation feels familiar in a way that puts you at ease, makes you relax. 

Minho is not the type for small talk and useless chatter. It's one of the things you like about him; he's astute and straight to the point. He doesn't waste your time. 

And unlike most others he doesn't try to flatter you. It's a welcome change from the sycophants that come with your position. Instead, Minho has always relied on his wits and his sharp tongue. Navigated his way through the muddy water of rules and regulations until he knew them like the back of his hand. Knew how to bend them and how to break them. 

There was a certain softness to him at first, back then; but much like you, he’s always been quick to adapt, quick to change. 

You don’t pry into his personal life. You don’t ask and you don’t care. Just like you don’t care how he gets things done as long as he does them—because you know he always delivers, one way or another. He doesn’t keep to his luxurious office, preferring the grimy underbellies of your casinos instead, not afraid of getting his hands dirty. 

Still, it’s all too easy to picture him as a deer-eyed, grubby-kneed kid, growing up watching the same programs on TV as you did. Fast-paced animations, colourful heroes saving people and serving justice. And then, later, the hours spent behind stacks of books, in courtrooms, for a good cause, only to end up here—

But Minho isn’t innocent. Every move and every choice he makes is deliberate. He, like no other, knows the world isn’t black and white. He wades through the grey fog, always mindful of the lines he should not cross.

It seems you are his only exception.

There’s an irony to it, its taste bittersweet on his tongue every time you kiss. An acidity to the both of you circling each other as you take his glass, your fingertips brushing against his skin. 

“What do you want?” you ask, putting his drink down next to yours. You wait for him to say the word, confirming that he wants this as much as you do.

“I’ve missed you,” he says, and it’s out of line, teetering on the edge of mockery if it wasn’t for the honesty in his eyes. His long lashes caress his cheeks when he blinks, twice. “Venom.”

There’s a beat of silence as the word hangs in the air between you, followed by his look of surprise when the flat of your hand connects with his cheek. The expression lasts only a second, quickly overtaken by something darker as his skin flushes pink. 

“I asked you a question.” You step closer, grabbing his jaw, fingers pressing hard into the soft flesh of his cheeks, distorting his grin. “Answer me.”

It’s a deflection, an attempt to steer away from his admission, and it works: the immediate effect it has on him, how it makes his pupils dilate and his breath hitch in his throat. 

“Please,” he says, barely audible, mouth forced into a pout by your hold on him, “make it hurt.”

His words trickle down your skin like molasses and settle deep in your belly. You press your lips against his, tasting the rich, smoky flavour of the alcohol you’ve been raised on, coupled with that sweet taste that’s so unmistakably him— 

Minho lets out a sudden moan as you sink your teeth into his bottom lip and you swallow the sound, letting go of his face, not missing the way he sways into you as you lean back and tap one finger on his suit jacket. “Follow me.”

There’s a shift in the air as you enter your bedroom, a place he’s seen countless of times—a privilege reserved to only a handful of your lovers. You can feel his presence behind you, heat radiating off him in waves, feeding your own excitement. 

“Take off your clothes,” you instruct, walking towards a large wooden chest beside the bed, “and get on your knees.”

When you turn back around, a long piece of red rope in your hands, you’re surprised to see him kneeling on the thick rug already. His eyes are trained on the floor and his clothes lay next to him, neatly folded.  

“Someone’s eager tonight,” you smile and grab a fistful of his dark hair, tilting his face upwards. 

“Just making it easy for you,” he grins, “for now.” 

You tighten your grip and he shivers at the pinpricks of pain tickling his scalp. “You’ve always liked to play with fire.”  

He tilts his head, as much as your hand allows. “A man can hope.” 

You crouch down in front of him, noses almost touching, catching his half-lidded stare. “Show me you deserve it.” 

Rising to your feet again, you instruct: “Arms in position.” He puts them behind his back, forearms parallel to each other, fingers grazing his elbows. 

You carefully wrap the rope around his forearms, then twice around his chest, right above the pectoral muscle. Putting your hand in his, you ask him to squeeze it. “Good?” 

He confirms, voice low, and you bring the rope together at the back to tie it to the loop on his wrists, locking the box tie with a sturdy knot so his upper arms are confined against his body. Your fingers adjust the hemp where needed, your own body remembering the familiar motions. You wrap the leftover rope around his torso, this time just below his pectorals, across the sternum, and fasten it at the back. 

You check his range of motion one more time before stepping in front of him, admiring your handiwork. His arms are pulled back, chest rising and falling steadily, pushed forward by the rope. The red hemp forms a striking contrast to his skin and when your fingers skim the side of his shoulder he shivers, the muscles in his thighs tensing. 

With a pleased hum you notice his responsiveness to your touch. Your gaze drops down to where his cock hangs between his legs, already half-hard. The sight of him on his knees, wrapped up and presented to you like an offering, sends a lick of heat down your spine and you fight the urge to reach out and touch him again—there’s a time and place for your own desire, and it will have to wait for now. 

You walk back to the chest and take out a bottle of massage oil and a silk sash, sifting through the chest’s contents until you find a small white box holding a collection of candles: massage candles, coloured soy flakes, and plain white paraffin candles. You know Minho prefers the latter, their heat more intense, the hot wax contrasting the colder air in the room. For a moment you consider starting with the massage candles just to rile him up, to have him writhing in his restraints and begging for more—but tonight’s not a night for such patience. 

You take the necessary precautions for his safety and return with the items, displaying them on the carpet in front of him. 

He watches you pour some of the oil on your hands and tilts his chin towards the candles. “Looks like it’s my lucky day today.” 

“Don’t be so sure of that.” You kneel down in front of him and smooth one hand over his chest. “I haven’t started yet.” 

Expertly, you massage the liquid into his skin, enjoying the warmth of his body underneath your fingers. When his chest and stomach glisten in the muted lighting you move behind him, lathering his shoulders with copious amounts of oil. Minho’s silent except for the occasional sharp inhale when you graze your nails over his skin, the subtle scent of sandalwood filling the air. 

“You’re sensitive today,” you murmur as you trail your fingertips down his nape, gooseflesh erupting in their wake. 

“It’s—it’s been a while,” he groans, teeth clamping down on his bottom lip when you press your front against his back, reaching around to rake your nails over his chest. “I’ve been away for a long time.”

You ignore the implications of his words—you know he could have anyone he wants, anytime, anywhere—before they can unravel the frayed edges of your chest, forcing yourself to focus on the sharp press of your nails. 

“Good,” your breath ghosts the shell of his ear as he shifts under your rough touch, “more fun for me.”

You stand up and move to face him again, tutting when you notice he’s closed his legs a little, looking for some friction on his aching cock. You nudge one thigh with the toe of your shoe. “Keep them spread.” 

He obliges, albeit reluctantly, and you bend down to adjust the ropes around his torso a bit, making sure to linger in front of his face. His eyelids flutter, gaze briefly flicking up to your chest, and you chuckle. 

“Like what you see?” 

“Always,” he says, amused, despite his impuissance. “I told you I’ve missed you.” 

You smile at his words, their intent unmistakeable this time. And it’d be a lie to say you didn’t enjoy this, this back-and-forth between the two of you, even though you know he doesn’t mean half of what he says; weaponises his words and uses them to try and get a rise out of you. He’s a lawyer, after all. A good one. 

And all good lawyers lie. 

“Don’t make me hit you again.” You give the ropes a last tug, straightening your back. 

“Now that—” Minho shakes the hair out of his eyes, looking up at you, “—that would be a real shame.” 

“Absolutely,” you confirm, picking up the black sash, mirroring his smirk. “You’d like that way too much. Besides,” you tie the fabric around his head, “you haven’t earned the right to look at me just yet.” 

Minho opens his mouth, witty response dying on his tongue as your oil-slick palm, unseen, wraps around his cock. “Fuck—” he curses, and you squeeze him, once, before removing your hand again. He groans. “That’s not fair.” 

You bring your face next to his, lips brushing his cheekbone. “Nothing in this world is fair, Minho. You of all people ought to know that.”

Crossing the room, you grab the dressing table chair and put it down in front of him. His shoulders tense at the sudden sound; it’s the only reaction he shows, putting on a false display of nonchalance as you sit down and light a candle.

At first glance he does appear at ease, but you notice the small signs of tension: the quickening rise and fall of his chest, the tautness in his shoulders, the tremble that runs down his body at the soft click of the lighter. His head is slightly cocked, turned towards you, trying to catch any sounds you might make when you dribble some wax on your own arm to test the heat. 

When the first drop hits his skin he hisses sharply, wax trickling down his chest. You know it doesn’t hurt when drizzled from this height, not really, a mild sting at most—but being blindfolded and unable to anticipate your next move is enough to have him on edge. 

You pour the hot wax on his shoulders, his chest, his arms. The room is quiet as you work in silence, adjusting the heat and intensity by moving the candle closer or farther away from his skin. He bites back a whimper as some of it drips on a nipple, trying to stay focused, trying to predict your next move.

But when you press the sole of your shoe against his neglected cock he whines—loudly—and you laugh. You keep it there, the pressure not enough to satisfy him, and he shifts uneasily under your touch. 

“What do you want?” You feign innocence, voice flat and uninterested. 

“Please—” he begs, hoarse, “—more.” 

“Go on then. Move.” You dribble the hot wax on his upper thigh, close to your foot. He groans in response and rocks his hips, reluctant at first, almost shy, giving in with a choked-off sound. He’s more frantic now: previous restraint gone, the rope spanning taut across his chest, his knees digging into the carpet. 

Minho tends to be quiet, holds back his moans as if he’s afraid they’d escape the room. But you know his cursing is only a preamble so you aim to draw out every sound. To coax them from his lips until he can’t keep them caged behind his teeth any longer. 

“Look at you,” you muse, in awe of the vision of him, “such a desperate mess.” 

It’s a sight few people get to see: Minho Lee bound and covered in wax, quickly cooling, hardening into white strands of pearls on his skin. Your foot is pressing his cock against his lower abdomen, precum wetting the red sole, his thighs trembling with exertion as he ruts against it. 

You squeeze your own thighs together in an attempt to find some relief and when his tongue darts out to wet his lips you can’t help but lean in, blowing out the candle and crashing your mouth against his, taking him by surprise. The kiss is messy, feverish; all tongue and teeth as you nip at his lips, a hand tangling in his hair. 

He objects, a faint whine, when you pull back and take your foot off his cock. “You did so well,” your voice sounds breathy as you untie the sash, steadying your wobbly, eager fingers, “you deserve a reward.”

Minho blinks, letting his eyes adjust to the light, pupils still blown wide and unfocussed. 

“But you’ll have to get it yourself.” 

You hike your dress up, spreading your legs, inviting, and he sucks in a sharp breath at the sight of your soaked panties. 

“What are you waiting for?” you bait, enjoying the brief, rare glimpse of bewilderment flickering across his face before he collects his bearings and shuffles closer on his knees, until he is mere inches away from your clothed core. 

Minho closes his eyes, the muscles in his neck and shoulders tensing as he leans forward. His skin is still covered in dried wax, which has started to flake, but he doesn’t seem to care—too preoccupied with pushing his face into the black lace at the apex of your thighs. 

When he flattens his tongue against the fabric it’s you who has to suppress a moan, nerves set alight with every nudge of his nose.

“Ugh—this—” as expected, it doesn’t take long for him to get frustrated with the barrier keeping him from tasting you properly, “—is supposed to be a reward?”

You grab his hair, tugging at it sharply, noticing the way he hisses in response. “Don’t get greedy now, Minho.” Your index traces the edge of his jaw before giving him a gentle smack on the cheek. It’s nowhere near firm enough to be satisfying, only serving to fuel his impatience. “I can leave you here and go back to my other employees, if that’s what you prefer. Or we can continue like this.”

He narrows his eyes. It’s nothing to him if it isn’t a competition, a dispute, always and everywhere—in the courthouse, at the office, in your bed. You know he would’ve lost interest long ago if you hadn’t met him with the same fervour. 

His jaw ticks, determined, and he sits up, taking the hem of your panties between his teeth. You lift your hips so he can pull them down your legs, clumsily yet insistent, until they gather around your ankles. You lift one foot out of the fabric but before you can move the other leg Minho is already back, his face between your thighs.

When his mouth connects with your core he exhales, mumbling, “Fucking finally,” cutting off your reply with the plush of his lips wrapped around your clit. You can feel them curl against your skin at your jumbled words, warning him, a hand tangled into his hair as you hold him impossibly closer. 

It’s a little embarrassing how fast the knot in your stomach tightens, only to be unravelled again by the expert teasing of his tongue. “Fuck—Minho—” you gasp, and he pulls back slightly, slowing down his motions until you can feel your high ebb away, just out of reach. 

You groan. “Stop teasing.” 

He chuckles, the sound reverberating through your body, and you shiver. “Am I not good enough?” He leans back and looks up at you, eyes glinting. “Maybe you should go back to your other employees instead, then.”

His smile is a little crooked, and he tongues the inside of his cheek, as if he’s waiting for you to make a move. Expecting you to lash out or press your heel against his cock, anything—

You won’t give him the satisfaction. 

“Don’t threaten me with a good time,” you bend down until your face is in front of his. “Miller is more than capable.” 

His expression falters for a second, morphing into something unreadable before he puts his carefully crafted mask back into place. “M—”

You cut him off with the press of your fingers against his lips. “Open.”

He obliges, eyes falling shut as you grab his tongue between your thumb and index and spit on it, coating your fingers in the mixture of saliva and arousal and spreading it over his already saturated face. 

“Go on, Minho Lee,” you tap his bottom lip, ignoring his protest as your fingers leave his mouth, “show me that tongue is good for anything other than fucking the law over.” 

This time he doesn’t have to be told twice, working a steady rhythm, paying close attention to the sound of your moans and the involuntary shaking of your legs. 

He revels in it: on his knees, restrained, driving you to the edge and turning you into a whimpering mess. It’s a small price to pay for the pleasure that crests over you in waves, the soft strokes of his tongue bringing you down from your high. 

Through the distorted blur, stars behind your eyelids, you see his face, still covered in a mixture of arousal and spit. A pleased smile pulls at the corners of his lips and you suddenly feel exposed despite his state of undress.

Rising to your feet, you pull your dress down and flatten the fabric with your hands, eyeing the way he tries to adjust his arms within his confines. “Let me clean you up and get these ropes off.”

You retrieve a stainless steel knife from the chest, kneeling down in front of him and carefully chipping away at the dried wax on his shoulders. It peels right off, the scent of sandalwood filling your nose once more now you’re in such close proximity to him. It’s mixed with something sharper, something you’ve come to associate with him—intimately familiar, a scent you could pick out in any room.

The blade drags across his collarbone and he shifts on his knees. “Don’t move,” you warn, enthralled by the gooseflesh erupting in the wake of the cold metal. A few inches higher, there’s the steady beat of his pulse, pressing against the steel. 

“I could kill you.”

The laugh he lets out is soft but complacent, a low rumble deep in his chest. “You won’t. I’m too good at my job.” 

There’s a sharp pang behind your breastbone. Does this count as work for him, too? When you call him late at night, is there ever a part of him that doesn’t want you? 

“Men can be replaced.” 

He turns his face towards you, the curl of his lips turning treacherous. “You like me too much.” 

It’s cocky, smug, and you hate it—hate how it’s the truth. In moments like these you wonder if he knows how much power he holds over you, and not for the first time tonight you’re thankful for the pokerface you were taught to wear. 

You press the tip of the knife into the hollow above his clavicle, a red drop blooming underneath the steel. “For a man so meticulous you’re pretty reckless sometimes.” 

If he felt the small cut he doesn’t show it, tilting his head towards the floor instead, angling it away from the sharp metal. “If it isn’t for me, it’s for this ridiculous pristine rug. I know it was a gift from your father. I’ll live.” 

It’s there, as always, woven between the threads of light-hearted banter and off-handed sarcastic remarks; something that shouldn’t exist between the two of you, something that has no place in your world: trust. Even if it exists only in these rare moments—fleeting, transient, a gossamer thread.

You shake your head and straighten your back, stepping behind him, worried he’d be able to hear your heart hammering against your ribs. Sometimes it feels as if he can see right through you—it makes you nervous, kept on tenterhooks, your intricate house of cards threatening to collapse. 

Busying yourself with prying the last bits of wax off his skin instead, your other hand traverses over his chest and shoulders, feeling the ridges and dips of sinewy muscle underneath. He leans into your touch and heat courses through your body as your own desire flares up again. You untie him and help him to his feet, his fingertips leaving scorching marks on your skin as you realise it’s the first time they’ve touched you tonight, a promise for more. 

You swallow thickly. “Get on the bed.” There’s an urgency to your voice that wasn’t there before, and you’re thankful he holds his snarky retort and clambers onto the bed without a word, back against the soft mattress. 

When you finally sink down on his cock it takes you all your effort not to moan loudly, hissing through clenched teeth. He’s right—it has been long, too long, and the slight burn as he bottoms out only fuels your arousal. 

The tips of his fingers caress your knees, but you allow him, too preoccupied with rolling your hips just right so his cock brushes against that sensitive spot every time you push yourself back on his thighs. 

His half-lidded gaze travels over your body and you put your hands on his shoulders, steadying yourself as you set an unrelenting pace. His jaw slackens at a particular motion of your hips so you repeat it, bending down to capture his mouth with your own, the faint taste of your own arousal still lingering on his tongue.

“Ah—please,” his brow furrows as if he’s in pain, pleasure overwhelming his senses. “Please let me fuck you.” His hands hover above your thighs, waiting, desperation lacing his voice at the thought of your refusal. 

Your fingers graze the edge of his jaw, almost tender—wandering down to his throat, wrapping around it, as you squeeze and tell him, “Then fuck me.”

Minho plants his feet on the bed and grabs ahold of your waist, nearly toppling you over if it wasn’t for the hand around his neck holding you up. You let yourself collapse against his shoulder, his pulse quickening underneath your fingertips as his thrusts become frantic, chasing the high you’ve been withholding from him all night. 

He mutters your name into your skin, a Judas kiss, and you feel your body react, disloyal—clenching around his cock, limbs leaden and heavy. Your fingers slip into his mouth, mind buzzing, a half-hearted attempt to stop his perjury. 

It’s sanctimonious, though, when you fall apart around him with his name on your lips. He follows suit when you tell him to, hips stuttering before stilling underneath you. There’s a drawn-out silence, only filled by your laboured breaths. Your dress is a welcome barrier between your bodies as his hands fall away from your waist, reluctant, and you resist the urge to hold him, moving off the bed. 

You watch him go through the motions you know by heart: bending down to retrieve his pants from the pile of clothes on the floor first, faint imprints of rope still lingering on his skin.

“Stay,” you say, and this time you hope it doesn’t sound like an order, “finish your drink first. You have a long trip back to Oklahoma ahead of you.”

He turns around, wearing that smile he’s mastered for your clients in court, and you already know the answer before it has left his mouth. The familiar words erode all the nights spent together until they slip through your fingers like sand. 

“Whatever you want, boss.”

Thank you for reading! If you liked this story please reblog, leave a comment, tell a friend, send me a pigeon, launch a mars rover. Your encouragement fuels my inner writer cryptid 👾

[aventurineswife]

Hello!! I saw that your requests were open and wanted to give it a shot! I love your works and I’ve been binging them lately. Please feel free to discard this for any reason.

Would it be okay to write about a male or gn reader who is in a very science related field (STEM, scientist, medical, engineering etc.) and loves their work immensely, but is revealed YEARS later on to actually have given up on an artistic dream? Like a reader who loved drawing/music/painting/etc. and was beyond headstrong about it for the longest time as a kid, all the way until they were in their senior year of high school and were hit with the reality of how difficult it’d be to gain the financial stability they needed in an arts career, versus the stem career…

And here they are, fast forward to the present.

I think characters like Kaveh and Aventurine have the best backstory to pair with this, but I’m more than alright with anything you’d like to try! If nothing else, thank you so much for putting your amazing writing here on tumblr for free!!! It’s creators like you that we all turn to at the end of the day to save us emotionally :D

Second Chances and Forgotten Dreams

Tags: Kaveh x Reader, Aventurine x Reader, Ratio x Reader, Self-Discovery, Creative Struggles, Supportive Characters, Reconnecting with Passions, Emotional Growth, Healing, Gentle Encouragement, Character Development.

Warnings: Mentions of Regret (Over giving up an artistic dream), Minor Angst, Emotional Vulnerability, Implied Pressure from Career Choices, Healing Process, Possible Mild Self-Doubt.

A/N: Hey, thank you so much for your kind words! That honestly means a lot to me. I'm really glad that my work has been able to connect with you and make a difference—it's always the goal! It’s anons like you who keep me motivated too. Thanks again for the love! 🤭💖🫶

Kaveh had always admired your sharp mind. The way your eyes lit up when discussing equations, medical advancements, or structural integrity fascinated him. Yet, despite the success in your field, he always sensed something was missing.

He discovered the truth by accident.

A forgotten sketchbook, tucked away on the highest shelf in your office, filled with beautiful, intricate drawings. Architectural designs, character studies, and unfinished landscapes—each page held the echoes of a dream abandoned.

Kaveh ran his fingers over the pages, tracing the lines with a reverence usually reserved for the most breathtaking buildings. When you walked in and saw him holding the sketchbook, your breath hitched.

"These… these are yours, aren’t they?" Kaveh's voice was uncharacteristically soft.

You swallowed hard, already knowing where this conversation was headed.

"I loved art once," you admitted, exhaling as if saying the words out loud made the weight of your decision all those years ago more tangible. "I wanted to make a career out of it, but… I knew it wouldn't pay the bills. STEM was the safer choice."

Kaveh’s eyes, always filled with emotion, darkened with something between sadness and frustration.

"But safety doesn’t mean happiness," he said, flipping through the pages. "These drawings—they’re incredible. You could've—" He stopped himself, taking a deep breath. "You should still be creating."

You let out a bitter chuckle. "I don’t even know where to start again. I wouldn’t even know what to make."

Kaveh reached for his own notebook, the one filled with designs for structures he hadn't yet built, dreams he hadn't yet realized.

"Then let’s start together," he said.

That night, for the first time in years, you picked up a pencil—not to draft blueprints or calculate measurements, but to simply create. And beside you, Kaveh sketched alongside you, proving that art, once lost, could always be found again.

Aventurine had always seen life as a game of calculated risks, and you? You were one of the safest bets he’d ever made. Intelligent, hardworking, disciplined—exactly the kind of person who thrived in your field.

But when he saw you idly tracing shapes on a napkin one night, your fingers moving with absentminded precision, something about it made him pause.

"Didn’t know you were the doodling type," he mused, swirling his drink in his hand.

You stiffened before pulling the napkin away, stuffing it into your pocket as if it were something shameful.

That reaction? That was new.

So, being Aventurine, he started digging.

It wasn’t until weeks later that he found the old digital portfolio buried in your archives. Paintings, sketches, compositions—you had once been an artist. A real one.

When he confronted you, you laughed, but it lacked humor. "It was a childish dream," you said, waving it off. "STEM pays the bills. I made the right choice."

Aventurine leaned back in his chair, studying you the way he studied opponents at a high-stakes table. "Funny, I’ve seen people convince themselves of a lot of things, but that? That was the worst bluff I’ve ever heard."

You opened your mouth to argue, but he cut you off.

"You don’t regret choosing STEM," he said, "but you do regret giving up art entirely."

He leaned in, resting his chin on his knuckles, his sharp eyes unreadable. "Tell you what, sweetheart. I’ll make you a deal."

You raised an eyebrow. "A deal?"

Aventurine smirked. "Start creating again—just once a week. No pressure, no deadlines. If you don’t love it anymore, I’ll never bring it up again." He extended a hand. "But if you do? Well, then you owe me a private exhibition of your best work."

You hesitated before finally shaking his hand.

"Hope you’re ready for me to prove you wrong," you muttered.

Aventurine chuckled. "Oh, darling," he said, a knowing gleam in his eye. "I’m counting on it."

Ratio never dealt in half-truths. Logic dictated all things, and as far as he was concerned, you were a master of your field because you wanted to be. That was the only reasonable explanation.

So when he found the old violin case gathering dust in your storage room, he was… perplexed.

"You play?" he asked, examining the instrument with clinical curiosity.

"Not anymore," you replied without looking up from your work.

He narrowed his eyes. "Why?"

You hesitated, fingers tightening around your pen. "Because," you said finally, "passion doesn't pay the bills."

For the first time in a long time, Ratio was at a loss for words. You were one of the most driven, intelligent people he knew. He couldn’t fathom you abandoning something you once loved so much.

"You still think about it," he noted, voice quieter than usual. "Don't you?"

You sighed, rubbing your temples. "Sometimes."

Ratio wasn’t sentimental. He wasn’t the type to push people toward emotional revelations. But facts were facts.

"You are not simply a scientist, nor are you simply an artist," he stated. "Denying one part of yourself does not make the other stronger."

You frowned. "And what do you suggest? That I drop my career and start composing again?"

Ratio shook his head. "No. But I suggest you stop pretending that your love for art was irrelevant."

He pushed the violin case toward you.

"Indulge in both," he said. "Because denying something you love for the sake of practicality is, in itself, the most illogical decision one could make."

You stared at him for a long moment before reaching out, fingers ghosting over the violin’s worn surface.

For the first time in years, you opened the case.

And for the first time in years, you played.

[1nk20ul]

Discovering Jon and Martin’s Birthdays

It’s a wonder how much you can uncover about The Magnus Archives using only a bit of mathematics and a smidge of psychology.

Apparently I have too much time for both and can definitively say that I have revealed the absolute best and most accurate dates for both of their birthdays. Feel free to join me as we dissect piece by piece when these two were born and put to rest the age old question: What is Jon’s zodiac sign?

I’ll put the results in the tags as a TLDR if you’re not interested in reading my method and simply care about what star sign they are or what date to put in your calendar so you can go out for ice cream.

Statement Begins.

To find out the birthdays of Jon and Martin, we first must determine when exactly they joined the Archives. This will be important for the wider picture, as after all, the earliest possible birthday must take place after they start working there. We also must understand the Archive team’s speed in order to understand how to space out our statements and find that aforementioned number.

Gertrude Robinson passed away, according to her file, on the 15th of May 2015. This makes 15th May our earliest possible starting date. The next time the day’s date was specified was on 13th January 2016, when Naomi Herne gave a live statement. This is MAG 13, and our latest start date. Obviously, these numbers are nowhere close to the day we’re looking for, but they act as upper and lower limits. Our answer is somewhere inside.

In Jon’s supplemental notes for MAG 12, he states that Gerard Keay passed away late the previous year. Since Gertrude died after Gerard in early 2015, he must have died in late 2014. This confirms that MAG 1-12 was recorded to tape in 2015. We know that MAG 13, the next statement, was given live on 13th January 2016. This creates, at the very least, an almost two-week gap between archiving statements. This is likely due to the holiday season, so the time between 24th December and up to 1st January can be omitted. To recap, MAG 1-12 was recorded in 2015, and MAG 13 onwards in 2016.

The key to determining archival speed lies with Martin. Martin goes missing right before MAG 17 and reappears at the end of MAG 21. As he gave such a detailed account of those two weeks, our archiving timeline can be significantly accurate. MAG 19-20 were more than likely recorded on the same day, meaning three separate recording sessions took place in two weeks. However, it took a minimum of six weeks to record MAG 14-16.

So far, the timeline looks like this:

Now we have to figure out the left half.

Calculating the average time it takes to archive statements from MAG 13-22 (removing any outliers from our calculations), we can find a true average and apply it to the 2015 year. By March of The Magnus Institute’s 2016 calendar year, the Archive staff was able to archive 1.31 statements per week. I double-checked this number by doing the same with the statements recorded between MAG 22 and MAG 39. By multiplying the average amount of weeks it should take them by the adjusted number of statements recorded, it should equal the number of weeks it actually did take them. If the numbers are the same, the average is reliable. Hoping for the number 20, the number of weeks I had calculated... was 20.11. This average seems relievingly trustworthy and fits Elias’ complaint about the staff “barely getting through one statement per week.”

All we have to do now is multiply the first 12 statements by the 1.31 average to determine how many weeks it most likely took to do the recorded work of 2015. This leaves us with 15.72 weeks and makes the earliest and most probable start date somewhere around 5th September 2015. I will round this to 1st September as I am not expecting the team to start working on statements right out the gate, so these extra four days act as a buffer for everyone to get their bearings and find the tape recorder. Also, it’s convenient for Elias’ financials to start everyone on the 1st of the month.

Now is the fun part - the birthdays. We now know that Jon and Martin’s birthdays must fall somewhere between early September and the end of February. Since March kicks off the Archives living with the threat of Jane Prentiss, they have to take place before then. After that point, the team is far too stressed to have the carefree party heard in MAG 161. We also know that Martin’s birthday has to come before Jon’s, as the team mentions going out for ice cream at Jon’s party. This event has to be long enough in the past for Jon to forget about it, so their birthdays must be reasonably spaced out from one another in the allotted time. Likewise, an amount of time must have passed after their start date for the team to be close enough bond to want to celebrate Martin’s birthday.

Martin’s birth year is easy to determine. Martin tells us his age in MAG 56. His birthday could not have happened at this point in 2017, so his birth year must be 1987. In a Q&A, it was speculated that Jon and Martin have birthdays near each other (and one being slightly older than the other), so only 1987 and 1988 are our options for Jon’s birth year. Let’s look a bit closer at that.

Early ‘88 is closer to Late ‘87 than Early ‘87. At Jon’s birthday party, he says he’s turning 38. Martin is 29 at this time. The obvious conclusion to me is that Jon simply adds a decade to his age. (I find this the most hilarious yet believable scenario.) Jonny was also born in 1988, being 28 himself when that scene would take place. As Jon’s childhood details sometimes mirror Jonny’s, I am taking this as a sign of accuracy.

And by doing some additional work that I will not share here, I can reliably say that these are the best observed birthdays for Jon and Martin:

Martin - 23rd November, 1987

Jonathan - 2nd February, 1988

Also, this makes Martin a potential Valentine’s Day Baby. Do with that what you will.

Thanks for reading!

(Full timeline for those who are interested:)

[meadowfics]

declined invite

the salesman / recruiter x gn!reader

the mysterious man pays you a visit after you do not call the card number

warnings: threats. manipulation. salesman takes a special interest to you. no gender for reader specified.

you had never been one for public transportation.

its been a rough week...rent overdue, your job barely covering expenses, and an argument with your sister kim about your financial irresponsibility.

tonight, you found yourself sitting at the edge of a subway platform, the fluorescent lights overhead flickering like they, too, were barely holding on.

a sigh left your lips as you rubbed your temples, trying to push away the headache forming behind your eyes. that’s when you sensed someone sitting down next to you.

at first, you did not mind. its the subway after all, you cannot tell anyone to move somewhere else.

however, you started to feel eyes on you.. then,

"excuse me."

you looked up, blinking in confusion at the well-dressed man sitting beside you. a sleek suit, a warm but eerily calculated smile.

he held up a briefcase, setting it on the seat beside him with an effortless grace.

"would you like to play a game?"

you frowned.

"excuse me?"

you didn't have time for salesman workers who frequent the streets to cheat on their wives at home. you've heard about those situations.

however, the man pulled out a stack of folded papers.before you could question it, he flipped them open, revealing two neat stacks of blue and red ddakji tiles.

"i'll make it simple," he said smoothly, tilting his head.

"we take turns throwing these, trying to flip the other player's tile. if you win, you get a hundred thousand won. if i win… well, you owe me your body. nothing vulgar, just a slap on the cheek."

you scoffed, shaking your head.

"i'm not interested."

"are you sure?"

the salesman’s eyes twinkled.

"it’s free money. surely, you have nothing to lose."

your arms crossed instinctively.

“i don’t play games with strangers.”

he chuckled, shuffling the tiles between his fingers before setting them down neatly.

"oh, but you do play games. just not ones you win."

your body stiffened.

"what the hell is that supposed to mean?"

"you gamble. not with money...because you don't have any...but with your chances in life. you take risks constantly, trusting people you shouldn't, spending time in places you shouldn't."

he tapped his knee, mockingly thoughtful.

"like the shady bar down the street. the one you frequent when you’re avoiding your older sister's lectures. whiskey neat, always."

your breath hitched.

"or that friend you loaned money to last year. the one who promised to pay you back but never did. how much was it? a million won?"

your heart pounded.

“who the hell are you?”

he ignored your question, his smile unwavering.

"you’re not a very lucky person, are you?"

your throat went dry.

"i don't want to play your stupid game."

he exhaled dramatically.

"what a shame."

he began packing up the tiles with deliberate slowness, but then he pulled out a sleek brown card, sliding it toward you.

"but if you ever change your mind, call this number."

you stared at it, hesitating before picking it up. embossed in the center was a symbol of three shapes.

a circle, a triangle, and a square.

no name. no details. just a number.

you swallowed thickly, then shoved the card into your pocket.

you needed to get out of here.

now.

you spent the next few days holed up at your older sister's house, avoiding anything that felt remotely like a coincidence.

you didn’t leave, didn’t touch your phone unless absolutely necessary.

kim, of course, noticed.

"y/n," she called from the kitchen, hands on her hips.

"what’s going on with you?"

you forced a laugh.

"what do you mean?"

"you’ve been acting paranoid ever since you got here. jumping at noises, locking the door twice. are you in trouble?"

"no,"

you lied, avoiding her gaze.

"i just… needed a break from everything."

kim studied you with a skeptical look, but before she could press further, her phone buzzed.

"well, i have to run some errands,"

she said, still eyeing you.

"please don’t burn the house down while i’m gone."

"yeah, yeah,"

you muttered, waving her off.

the moment the door shut, silence settled over the house.

you exhaled, rubbing your temples. maybe you were overreacting.

maybe that man was just a really creepy con artist.

then came the knock.

you stilled.

it was soft at first. then a second knock, louder.

probably a neighbor, you thought. they were always borrowing something from your sister. you rose from the couch and walked to the door, fingers curling around the knob.

the second you opened it...your blood ran cold.

the salesman.

his smile widened.

"hello again, y/n."

panic seized your chest. you moved to slam the door, but he caught it with an iron grip, slipping inside before you could react.

"whoa there," he chuckled.

"no need to be rude."

"get the hell out of my house!"

you hissed, backing away.

he took a step forward, hands slipping into his pockets.

"i was just wondering why you never called the number."

you gawked at him.

"because i don’t have a death wish?!"

his grin didn’t falter.

"you think calling the number means death?"

"yes!"

your voice rose.

"look, i don’t know what you are or who you work for, but i’m not interested in being kidnapped, sold off, or whatever the hell this is!"

he hummed, amusement glinting in his eyes.

"funny. most people say that before they change their minds."

"i won’t."

he tilted his head.

"are you sure?"

silence stretched between you. the air felt suffocating.

then, he leaned in slightly.

"you have no job. you have no savings. you owe money to people you don’t even remember. lets not get started on your sister? well…"

he smirked.

"you’re getting a little too comfortable depending on her, aren’t you?"

you swallowed hard.

"there’s a way out, y/n,"

he said, voice smooth as silk.

"no more struggling. no more scraping by. just one game. and if you win… you’ll never have to worry again."

you shook your head, but doubt wormed into your mind.

"is this prostitution?"

he shook his head no.

"its not. but y/n, you wouldn’t be here if you weren’t considering it,"

he continued.

"you wouldn't be so afraid if you didn’t believe...deep down...that this might be your only chance."

your hands trembled.

"why are you telling me all this?"

his smirk widened.

"because i need all 456 players."

your pulse thundered in your ears.

he stepped back, as if giving you space to breathe.

"think about it," he said simply, turning toward the door.

"but don't take too long. opportunities like this don’t come twice."

with that, he walked out, shutting the door behind him as if he had never been there at all.

your legs nearly gave out.

for a long time, you stood frozen, staring at the door.

slowly, shakily, you pulled out the card from your pocket, your fingers hovering over the numbers.

you inhaled sharply.

then you called.

masterlist

[truemindcapital]

Choose Financial Independence and your financial Goal

Most people have goals, and they always try to sort out all their monthly expenses and earnings and their needs as well. Financial goals are the objectives you must meet through money management. Every individual saves, earns, spends, and invests money. Making a list of your financial objectives is essential before establishing your budget. However, you might find it difficult to calculate your financial objectives. Therefore, you can utilize a financial goal calculator to save time and effort.

How do you Calculate Financial Goals?

Financial calculators are makes the simplify the process. For the few inputs and gives you the assets based on your expenses. 

Clear Financial Goal Setting

The calculator helps your how much money to need for achieve your goals.

Sharing the estimitae, how much money you have to save.

Personalized Financial Planning

Adjusts calculations based on inflation, lifestyle changes, and retirement age.

Helps your Retirement Planning

Estimates how long your money will last post-retirement.

Determines if you need to adjust retirement age or savings rate.

Flexibility to Test Different Scenarios

Allows you to simulate "what-if" situations (e.g., market downturns, early retirement, career breaks).

Helps in risk assessment before making big financial moves.

 Encourages Long-Term Wealth Building

Highlights the power of compounding returns over time.

Reinforces the importance of early and consistent investing.

Financial goals are the objectives you must meet through money management. Every individual saves, earns, spends, and invests money. Making a list of your financial objectives is essential before you can establish your budget. However, you might find it difficult to calculate your financial objectives. Therefore, you can utilize a financial goal calculator to save time and effort.

[ira-scargeear]

How much does your craft cost? And why "cost of supplies X2" formula is absolutely harmful for artists?

A lot of artists & artisans keep asking this question: how much should I charge for my craft?

There is a simple way to calculate the cost of the item: calculate the cost of supplies that went into it, and multiply by 2.

I can't track the origin of this idea, but I keep stumbling upon it in many craft groups - and I can't help, but cringe every time.

Why this formula is used by many? It's no secret for me. Many artsy people are not great with math and finances, so they cling to it because of its simplicity.

Why offering this formula to craft novices is a major disservice that may severely harm their approach?

Because each type of craft has its own financial accounting.

What actually should be calculated:

- The cost of supplies, including shipping to your location,

- The amount of time spent on the item, multiplied by the cost of your single working hour,

- The time spent on making photos of the item,

- The cost of packaging,

- The cost of time you spend on packaging and shipping the item.

These are easier to calculate.

Also there are costs that you spend every now and then, like monthly or even once in a several years, like:

- The time and cost of maintaining site (if any), Etsy, Pinterest, etc., and also social media presence,

- The cost of rent if you rent the space, or the cost of maintenance if you own it,

- The cost of electricity/water/etc. you spend while doing the job,

- The cost of tools used (sewing machine, 3D printer, scissors, hammers, glues, paints, photo gear, whatever), it's called amortization,

- The cost of courses, workshops, etc. you attend to improve your skills, or time&supplies you spend self-learning or experimenting.

I mentioned just the major ones, but it may vary from craft to craft greatly.

I suggest to calculate all that stuff for a single month. If it's some tool like a sewing machine that you know you'll be using for many years, I'd recommend to set its amortization time to 5 years (aka 60 months), so after that term, if the tool is still usable, you kinda use it for free. And you can add 1/60th of the cost of the tool to your monthly accounting.

And, knowing the cost of the monthly expenses and number of hours spent on all of your items during a month, you can calculate the percent of the cost that you should add on top of each item.

As you already know, I do doll stuff. To simplify the process, I count the cost of my working hours only, and then add a certain percent to the cost, that I calculated previously. It still may vary from item to item, but it all evens out in a long run.

As for the "cost of supplies x2" formula, let's see how it absolutely doesn't work for me.

Let's say I do faceups. I charge $150 per faceup. My supplies are:

- high quality Rembrandt pastels, Albrecht Duhrer watercolor pencils, acrylic varnish, ox gall and some brushes that were a noticeable investment, but will serve me not for 5 years, but for like 20 years ahead. Even the initial investment is completely covered within a single faceup.

- MSC. I don't overspray, so a single can lasts for at least 5 faceups. Definitely a spendable, but less than $5 per faceup.

- Cotton discs, cotton swabs, some toothpicks, nail polish remover, electricity, whatever else - definitely less than $5 again.

- 3M respirator mask with cartridges. Lasts for at least 5 years, is used for not only faceups but for many other tasks, its cost is almost non-noticeable.

So how much should I charge???

Obviously, I charge for skills mostly.

What if there is a developed market already, you calculated everything, and you see that people aren't ready to pay the honest price?

Then you should think twice if you want to sell your craft, or to move to other business. Or to admit you do it as a hobby and sell for whatever people are ready to pay you, and don't call it a business. And make sure people whom you sell your stuff are informed about the difference. Because skilled manual labor never should cost as little as mass produced items.

[reality-detective]

INSIDER LEAK: THE IRS IS GONE – FEDERAL TAXES ERASED – THE DEEP STATE’S FINANCIAL CONTROL SYSTEM IS CRUMBLING!

The U.S. Debt Clock just delivered a DEATH BLOW to the financial slavery system—federal income tax and corporate tax have VANISHED. This isn’t a glitch. It’s a calculated takedown of the IRS and the complete collapse of the Deep State’s financial prison!

For over a century, the banking elite, corrupt politicians, and global controllers have stolen the wealth of the people under the LIE that "taxes fund government services." That was NEVER TRUE. The Federal Reserve prints money out of thin air—they never needed your taxes. The IRS was a tool of control, designed to keep you broke while making them rich!

Now it’s OVER. The system is COLLAPSING in REAL-TIME.

THE ELITE ARE LOSING CONTROL

The removal of federal income and corporate taxes is just the beginning of a total financial RESET. A new decentralized system is emerging—one that operates outside of their grasp, beyond their control, free from their shackles!

For years, they MOCKED and ATTACKED decentralized finance (DeFi) because they KNEW it was the END of their power. They FAILED. Now, the unstoppable financial revolution is here.

THE ELITE’S NIGHTMARE: WORLD LIBERTY FINANCIAL (WLF)

The corrupt banking cartel relied on their tracking, taxing, and controlling networks to enslave the people. But World Liberty Financial (WLF) is untouchable.

✔️ No centralized banks controlling your money

✔️ No taxation on transactions

✔️ No forced debt slavery

✔️ No financial tracking, censorship, or restrictions

This is why they are DESPERATE to destroy it. They know the moment people WAKE UP and abandon their system, it’s OVER for them!

THE FINAL SHOWDOWN – CHOOSE YOUR SIDE!

The Deep State is scrambling to stop this revolution. They’re launching fake financial crises to scare people back into the old system. They’re pushing for Central Bank Digital Currencies (CBDCs)—which are nothing but digital slavery!

They want you to believe DeFi is dangerous, risky, unstable. LIES. The only danger is to THEM—because they’re LOSING CONTROL.

This is HAPPENING NOW. The IRS is DEAD. The Federal Reserve is losing power. The financial system is being REBUILT for THE PEOPLE.

The question is no longer IF the system will collapse. It’s collapsing NOW. 🤔.

[mspopstar]

what are the casts political beliefs?

K: "Politics? I don't really care about that..."

MK: "While others find distasteful, I for one support dictatorships and heavy militarist control, stricter, harsher, inter-planetary border control like the policies on Mecheye with an emphasis on foreign inter-planetary trade and market. Tell me, what are societies greatest issues? I believe it is because people are freely allowed to do things they shouldn't. Power and freedom is given and spread freely to those who don't use it or kept in those who don't do anything with it. It is disgusting, it is useless, and so very lazy. If all power was concentrated to one individual, an individual that is intelligent, strong, commanding, and fierce. An individual allowed to make all of the laws and beliefs every citizen must follow without any hesitation or disobedience, then everyone would be well protected and flourish! A lot of people, ignorant people, claim that such rulings are corrupt. HAH! Let me ask you this, how can it be corrupt if the man in charge isn't corrupt and has only the best interest in mind?"

DDD: "Anythin' that supports me! Monarchies for the win baybeee! Though, while runnin' a single man monarchy I still rely a lot on my cabinet of Waddle Councils and their waddlepolitics and social rules... Keeps things easier run. I still get that final say on anythin' though!"

BWD: "Anything that supports the Great King and his policies, of course! But, ah, it is good to have Waddle Dees who provide decent checks and balances too... I don't have any strong social policies other than maybe we should invest more into interplanetary communication, identification and protection! That way not just anyone can waltz into Dream Land consequence free! And, don't get me wrong, the Great King is great and so are all of his choices and decrees but there should be more financial and educational incentives for farmers and carpenters, more of our budget should go into the Waddle Dee army! We should have less spending going into...uhm... th-the Great King's personal projects!"

MAG: "The less governmental powers meddle in corporate affairs the better! Why do I have to report every little thing I do? Especially when you have sniveling pencil-pushing officials ready to report you for the tiniest of things!"

SU: "AI backed corporatocracy with a focus on quality of life advancement for organisms, economic growth and efficiency, and most importantly, technological advancement and breakthroughs! Can't have political, societal, and environmental, economical, errors if there are all calculated to null! Socially, I guess I support free bodily and transhumanistic autonomy! Oh, and instant death penalty for all savage evil-doers, that way there would absolutely be no crimes at all!"

TA: "I believe all higher powers that lord over commonfolk should only be passed down through a pure royal bloodline. All politics should be controlled and concentrated through these bloodlines. It is such that standards, rules, tradition, and more are upheld. Yes, there may be hiccups, but they're always rectified with the newer generation. You just can't trust the lower dregs.... the commoner with such power, freedom or choice. It is quite boorish that so many wish for such a tradition to be overthrown! Though, what can you expect from the dirty, illiterate common trash, non?"