#day trading addict

[mymoneyepisodes]

10 Hidden Secrets (Stock Investing for Beginners)

0:00 Introduction 1:15 Buy the right investment 1:48 Avoid individual stocks if you’re a beginner 2:46 Create a diversified portfolio 3:16 Be prepared for a downturn 4:18 Try a stock market simulator before investing real money 4:45 Stay committed to your long-term portfolio 5:29 Start now 6:12 Avoid short-term trading 7:21 Keep investing over time 7:59 Remember, risks are involved

10 Hidden Secrets ( Stock Investing for Beginners 2024). Stocks, which are also called equities, are securities that give shareholders an ownership interest in a public company. It’s a real stake in the business, and if you own a majority of the shares of the business, you control how the business operates. The stock market is really a kind of aftermarket, where people who own shares in the company can sell them to investors who want to buy them. There are some hidden secrets that beginners in stock investing. Of course, you’ll need a brokerage account before you start investing in stocks. As you’re getting started. So, here are 10 guidelines for beginners investing in the stock market. 10 Hidden Secrets (Stock Investing for Beginners 2024).

Buy the right investment Buying the right stock is so much easier said than done. Anyone can see a stock that’s performed well in the past, but anticipating the performance of a stock in the future is much more difficult.

Avoid individual stocks if you’re a beginner Remember, to make money consistently in individual stocks, you need to know something that the forward-looking market isn’t already pricing into the stock price. Keep in mind that for every seller in the market, there’s a buyer for those same shares who’s equally sure they will profit.

Create a diversified portfolio One of the key advantages of an index fund is that you immediately have a range of stocks in the fund and you’ll own stocks in different companies across many different sectors. Diversification is important because it reduces the risk of any one stock in the portfolio hurting the overall performance very much, and that actually improves your overall returns.

Be prepared for a downturn You need to ride out short-term volatility to get attractive long-term returns. In investing, you need to know that it’s possible to lose money, since stocks don’t have principal guarantees. The concept of market volatility can be difficult for new and even experienced investors to understand.

Try a stock market simulator before investing real money One way to enter the world of investing without taking risk is to use a stock simulator. Using an online trading account with virtual currency won’t put your real money at risk.

Stay committed to your long-term portfolio Investing should be a long-term activity and so you should divorce yourself from the daily news cycle.

Start now Choosing the perfect opportunity to jump in and invest in the stock market typically doesn’t work well. Nobody knows with 100 percent certainty the best time to get in. And investing is meant to be a long-term activity. There is no perfect time to start.

Avoid short-term trading 10 Hidden Secrets (Stock Investing for Beginners 2024). Understanding whether you’re investing for the long-term future or the short term can also help determine your strategy. Sometimes short-term investors can have unrealistic expectations about growing their money. And research shows that most short-term investors, such as day traders, lose money. You’re competing against high-powered investors and well-programmed computers that may better understand the market. New investors need to be aware that buying and selling stocks frequently can get expensive. It can create taxes and other fees, even if a broker’s headline trading commission is zero. Beginners should invest in the stock market only if they can keep the money invested for at least three to five years. Money that you need for a specific purpose in the next couple years should probably be invested in low-risk investments, such as a high-yield savings account or fixed deposits.

Keep investing over time Investing in the stock market can be very rewarding, especially if you avoid some of the pitfalls that most new investors experience when starting out. Beginners should find an investing plan that works for them and stick to it through the good times and bad. Remember, investing in the stock market involves risks, including the potential loss of principal. Always do thorough research and invest money you can afford to lose. Start small, learn as you go, and gradually increase your investments as you gain confidence and knowledge in the stock market. 10 Hidden Secrets (Stock Investing for Beginners 2024). #stockmarketforbeginners #investment #wealth

WEBSITE

YOUTUBE  

YOUTUBE PLAYLIST  

FACEBOOK  

X  (TWITTER)

TUMBLR  

QUORA  

LinkedIn

Mix  

FLIPBOARD

[fluffyartbl0g]

Everytime I go into the Zosopp tag, I just see people SCREAMING CRYING SOBBING about the lack of posts IN the Zosopp tag. THE ZOSOPP ECONOMY IS IN SHAMBLES

[servantleverslutdrop]

If we are getting a SOC3, I really do want to see the Jesper Kaz relationship outside of Kaz being angry at Jesper and punishing him. I want to see the bestie moments. I want to see Jesper angry with Kaz. I want to see them joke around, fight and make up, save each other. Jesper was able to move on from his unrequited crush on Kaz with Wylan (which is what he deservesss), and Kaz showed his hand with how much he really cares for Jesper in CK, but I still want a sense of reconciliation between the two, after the years of hurt caused by Kaz's distance and casual cruelty.

[satellitecock]

the hood in manhood refers of course to the foreskin or clitoral hood. in the case of men without one either by circumcision or other circumstances, the manhood chakra is transferred to the taint, a noble vice-president to the "first manhood" president-elect. this has been your biology lesson for the day

Very insightful! The foreskin boys stay stacking hundreds. #restoration #nuskin #nuskinnewyear

[veganmabelpines]

Something I don't understand is people who say things like "I would go vegan except I can't give up feta cheese" or "I can't live without bacon" is that if you really can't give up feta or bacon or scrambled eggs, why not give up everything else?

Addiction is a health problem, not a character flaw. Just like people with allergies, if you struggle with addiction, it does not mean you can't be vegan. Sure, it'd be ideal if you could cut all animal products out, but if you have to keep eating one specific thing while you overcome addiction to it, that's nothing to be ashamed of. A veggie burger with cheese is progress from a beef burger with cheese.

You do your best, and that's just fine.

[divinekangaroo]

Whenever i write a ‘Tommy doing an expository dad speech’ at charlie, i try to walk this very, very fine line of:

It sounds so deep and meaningful and poignant and a reader can feel and see how much it means to charlie right now with his yearning and his want and his forcefully-matured-out-of-necessity sense of compassion and desperate need for order and connection…

…but if a reader were to instead consider Charlie as an adult who isn’t a gangster thinking back and remembering that particular dad speech, it would clearly be borderline wild at best and batshit insane world view framing at worst.

[blogsweb]

Day Trading Kills !

In the exhilarating‍ world of trading, where the⁣ lure of significant ‍financial gains beckons, the toll it takes on both personal and professional ⁣spheres often stays in the shadows. Brace yourself as we unravel the intricate⁣ tapestry of trading’s risks and their ripple effects on your daily life. In this eye-opening listicle, we spotlight 4 pivotal ways trading risks subtly, ⁤yet profoundly influence ‍your ⁢personal and work life. Whether you’re a⁤ seasoned trader or a​ curious novice, you’ll discover insightful⁤ perspectives that equip​ you to ‌navigate these challenges with greater awareness ‌and foresight. Intrigued?​ Read on​ to see how the ​high-stakes⁢ game of‍ trading interweaves with your everyday experiences.

Day trading dangers

[dullahandyke]

Like I'd like to show up 2 the meeting like 'things have been shit BUT I have a solution' but I cant. Bcos theres no solution except the fucking hse hiring another clinical psychiatrist to give me meds. So I just have to show up lik3 'yeah we have nothing to talk abt bcos I need to wait for goddamn lightning to strike'

[mihanisms]

sub l&ds men visuals

— so....my first time doing this type of post but. i need to spread my femdom agenda. guys the 13 sub LI drafts i have on my account WILL see the light of my page one day i promise 😭 in the meanwhile have this...also u need to be logged into twt to see most of these!!

— nasty freaky twitter porn with tiny blurbs. mostly focused on pegging, bondage, or overstimulation. ur strap is occasionally referred to as cock. i hope my fellow freaks enjoy, love u all mwah mwah <3

the first time you had suggested pegging to zayne, you hadn't expected him to be so...okay with it. of course, there was a bit of convincing needed, but as a doctor, he had both the medical knowledge and money for preparation — you seemed to want it so badly, after all. he just didn't expect how much he'd like it.

— he's completely gone

— he's completely gone pt. 2

— fucking himself onto you

— extra ; helping him destress after work (pls he's even wearing the same fuckass outfit)

rafayel had been one hell of a brat the entire week, teasing you by sending pictures of himself dolled up for you, sending voice messages of him whining and moaning for your cock, and even going as far as to sending videos of him playing with himself, all during your precious work hours.

— "this pretty toy is all for you to use."

— "please cutie, come home already. can't you see how much my cock misses you?"

— "you can make me feel better than this dumb vibrator."

finally free from work on the weekend, you show him the consequences of his actions.

— whining and crying already, when this was just the beginning of his punishment?

— being tortured stupid

you took it upon yourself to break down sylus. always somehow so irritatingly composed, you tried so many different ways to have him openly submit to you, when all you had to do was take the lead in bed. now was that tricky? yes. was having him moaning and letting you take control something you would trade entire universes for? also yes!!!!

— getting his ass fucked by you is more relaxing than he'd like to admit

— the more intimate the moment, the louder he moans for you

— seeing how far you could push him until he breaks

— roleplay; he's being a brat (he's mostly an obedient sub, he just wanted to feel how you would fuck him if he wasn't)

since xavier had long since gotten into the habit of waking you up with sex, it's only natural that it catches onto you as well.

— he's always just so sensitive when it comes to you

— morning handjob (this is sooo intimate subby xavier im in love)

— fucking him awake

— extra ; THIS IS SO HIM AHHHHH

multiple scenarios for caleb bc i can't think of one specific story to follow with videos...

— no-touch is the worst punishment for him :(

— but there's just something so addicting about it (sado-masochist switch much?)

— he could break out of the cuffs so easily, but the look on your face as you torture his cock is too sweet of a reward

— extra ; the shit he sends you

[dcxdpdabbles]

DCxDP fanfic Idea: New Money

The ghost zone doesn't have a formal form of currency. Depending on which part of the zone one is in, a trade could be made, or a Deal can be struck, but coins can rarely, if ever, be exchanged.

Every subculture that forms in the zone can eventually develop its own currency, but it will only have value within its territory. An example would be the credit crystals that the Far Frozen have developed, with a corresponding amount of funds floating inside their iced rocks. Still, if a Yeti were to travel even a foot outside their snowy mountains, the stones would become an interesting clothing choice and nothing else.

Ghosts value emotions more than any amount of gold or coin. Oftentimes, the most powerful of ecto beings would battle it out if a child's favorite teddy bear somehow found its way into the zone, though the thin cracks between worlds or an entire army of ghost mercenaries could be bought with a single pair of favorited socks.

It may not seem as much to the living, but to ghosts who could see the attachment embedded into the item, it meant everything. Some emotions could even be eaten off of the items if they were fresh enough, and while it did give a power boost, most of the time, the emotions were positive.

If a negative emotion was eaten, Ghosts could quickly become addicted to it, and when cut off from the negative emotion, they could soon fall apart in seconds.

Spectra was a famous example used in the zone as a precautionary tale for all new ghosts. Her beauty and power were only a facade to her desperation for angst emotions, and she flouted about the Zone, always on the hunt for her next fix.

It was pretty sad to see.

A few ghosts did their best to limit additions, such as Walker, who established himself a section of the zone using his great sense of justice that he had died with. He found human contraband that came into the zone unnaturally, sealing them away in his haunt.

These items usually had lickings of anxiety, desperation, or even fear attached to them and could quickly turn any ghost into a violent sort.

Walker's mission since his creation was to limit this exposal. He even arrested various ghosts that went to the human world through unnatural means, a majority coming back contaminated with human emotions and becoming a danger to fellow ghosts.

Most of these ghosts had items on them that were deemed worthless once all emotion was sucked out. Walker usually had his men take them to the Dump.

The Dump in the Ghost Zone was an extensive collection of worthless items gathered at the far right. It was known as a neutral section of the Zone, as every civilization and haunt often traveled there to eliminate clutter. Everything unwanted usually finds its way to the Dump.

Danny, after having a trial with Walker and coming to the understanding that he was not, in fact, attempting to make his fellow Ghosts addicted to anger- cause apparently a majority of Walker's prisoners were in there because of their exposal to Danny!- he was directed to the Dump to rid of his worthless ripped bag.

Danny had flown there expecting mountains and mountains of garbage. What he found instead were islands made entirely of gold. He flouted over the piles and piles of jewels, gold coins, random bills, and valuable items, gaping at the long collection that went further than his eye could see.

"What is all of this?" He gasps just as Box Ghost floats by carrying a jewelry box. He flips it open and shakes out a necklace with a diamond as large as Danny's palm onto the pile of jewelry. He gives Danny a friendly wave when they make eye contact.

He proudly flouts over to Danny, taking the neutral status of the Dump to heart. No fighting was allowed in this territory, much like Truce Day; all ghosts abided by this rule.

"The Box Ghost was lucky to be near a natural portal leading to the Human world's sea. This small rectangular object was once beloved by a grandmother, and now it is all mine!" He cheers, holding the jewelry box, practically half rotted and dripping wet over his head. A faint, gentle green glow surrounded it.

Danny blinks, pointing down at the necklace. "What about that? Aren't you going to keep it?"

"The Box Ghost has no need for useless stones!" The floating man even sticks his tongue to the necklace that could pay for Danny's college education (If it were real).

Only half joking, Danny asks, "Can I have it then?"

Box Ghost blinks, then gestures to the mountains and mountains of wealth. "If the Ghost Child wishes for a garage, he can take whatever he likes. No one will mind. Though, why would you waste time on soulless items? Box Ghost can not be sure!"

Box Ghost flies away laughing as if Danny was the one to mock for wanting a diamond necklace. He watches the ghost go before turning back to the mountains and mountains of shimmering gold.

Deciding to fly through the Dump to see what else he can find, Danny begins exploring- but not before taking the necklace- and later comes upon an island dedicated to various human clothing that looked like it came from hundreds of eras. He finds himself dressing up like a Lord of Old for fun when he happens upon leather bags.

Seeing as no one was there to stop him, Danny filled up each bag with chains and jewels, flying home in his new get up. He figured he could use some of the funds even if the gold was fake.

_____________________________________________________________

Oliver Queen is new money. His wealth came from only three generations ago, and while that is rather impressive, it held no candle to families like the Waynes.

The Waynes were old money, and their galas showed it. Every time old Brucie called him to celebrate, Oliver went along only to keep his company board happy.

They couldn't afford to offend one of their most prominent investors even if there were no thoughts behind Bruce Wayne's eyes. Oliver would have enjoyed himself more at these parties- if there was one thing Bruce Wayne knew how to do: throw a fantastic party- but sadly, he had to deal with the other old-money people who attended Bruce's parties.

The passive aggression reminders that he would never been on their level, the choking humiliation, the constant looking down on him. Well, it got exhausting. Especially since Oliver spent so much of his free time fighting for justice and trying to make the world a better place. These people talked and acted like they were above it all.

Like nothing could touch them, even when a majority of them were the cause for so much darkness, Oliver faced as Green Arrow.

He needed a stronger drink.

"Rather self-important for new money, isn't he?" A woman whispers loudly, mocking in every inch of her tone. Oliver's eyebrow twitches as he drowns his glass. He turns towards the voice, somewhat ready to cause a scene so he can go home, but it is a surprise to find that the gossiping woman isn't facing him

Rather, they are turned towards a young man, likely late teens, who is currently piling his plate high with sweets. The boy glances in the woman's direction before snorting unattractively and adding more to his plate.

Oliver is mildly impressed that he could make the woman flush with rage without saying anything. He had never seen the kid before, but he almost looked like a new Wayne with his dark hair and sparkling blue eyes.

He finds his feet walking towards the teenager before he can think about it. Something interesting may be at this gala after all.

"Hey, you seemed to really like fudge. Have you tried the raspberry ones? It's the best." He starts gesturing to a familiar chef's name in front of a chocolate tray. He had a sample of their work only a week ago when Batman brought some to the Watch Tower.

It was absolutely heaven.

The teen considered the pink color fudge before he took three cudes. With his bare hands. Well. New money, indeed.

"Thanks!" The boy chirps after stuffing one in his mouth and savoring the flavor.

"You're welcome. My son, Roy, really likes it too." He smiles as the boy glances towards where his adoptive son is currently chatting with Jason Todd. Those two find themselves attached to the hip whenever there is a gala. Maybe Roy will bring him home for the holidays soon. "I'm Oliver Queen, owner of Queen Industries."

"Danny Fenton," The boy responds slightly hesitantly. "Do all rich people do that? Add what makes them rich to their inductions?"

Oliver snorts, "Only the real tacky ones."

"Okay, Mr. Owner of Queen Industries."

Oh Oliver like this kid. He grins, ignoring the jab. "And what about you? What made you rich enough to be here to tonight."

The kid's eyes gain a certain glint of humor as he shrugs. "One man's trash is another man's treasure."

Oliver moves to ask what he means, but Brucie shows up then, and he can't find a way out of the conversation. He's buttering up to the big idiot, knowing he lost sight of the strange boy.

Afterward, Oliver looks into Danny Fenton, only to find that the boy somehow appears out of nowhere with billions of dollars but no known source of where he got them. It also seems Batman was already on the case, assuming the boy was counterfeiting somehow, but Oliver didn't get that sense from the kid.

Something wasn't adding up about the boy, but he didn't think it was illegal. He just had to convince the big bad bat of that. If only it could be as easy as convincing Bruce Wayne to spend millions of dollars.

[diushek]

Shen Yuan who, on a shitty walk through nature with his brothers, finds a sword. It's like, a black, rusty sword, but Shen Yuan is just like, hey!!! It's a sword!!! He keeps it.

And Shen Yuan accidentally acquires a Xin Mo.

He actually obviously doesn't know it's Xin Mo, at first. It's just a pretty silly sword. Xin Mo, of course, can't feed on spiritual energy and be vicious because, well, there's none of that in this world. However, Xin Mo can intrude into Shen Yuan's dreams.

Shen Yuan randomly dreams about the sword spirit telling him about the things can do. Shen Yuan thinks he won't fall asleep again after reading another PIDW update and ignores it.

Shen Yuan has that sword in his house, perhaps next to a sofa where he spends many hours. And Xin Mo, lacking spiritual energy, begins to feed on emotions. It feeds off of Shen Yuan's wild rage when he critiques novels, his frustration when he loses games, his visceral hate when Airplane screws up an update- from the constant and continuous almost repressed excitement of Shen Yuan.

And if Shen Yuan notices that the sword looks like, restoring itself? Well, it's not really that important, I mean... Of course Shen Yuan is going to ignore that until it bites him in the ass.

And it happens. Xin Mo appears again in his dreams; tells him about other worlds where he can have more power if he wields it, about fruits that he can use to obtain health and immortality... Shen Yuan already knows all that shit, he's up to date with PIDW and Xin Mo is the protagonist's golden finger and a vicious thing addicted to sex and blood.

However, the dream he had is insistent and Shen Yuan wakes up and says, well, fuck it... He takes up the sword -which has no rust at all, and in fact does look a bit like Xin Mo from some fanarts- and concentrates on thinking about PIDW. It's not like the sword is going to open a dimensional portal, true?

TRUE???

There is a dimensional portal open in the middle of his living room. Shen Yuan screams, the portal closes and he runs to hide the sword in the closet.

In his dreams, Xin Mo teases him. Isn't he curious about other worlds? Doesn't he want to see monsters beyond his understanding? Doesn't he want to explore the flora of a mystical world? Shen Yuan is too tempted. In the end, he says, fuck it. Buy xianxia tunics online, other glasses with more acceptable frames for the ancient era, gives in to the fact that he will be seen as an outcast because of his short hair and buys a straw hat with a veil, sends a message to his family group not to bother him because he will watch a marathon of One Piece from start to finish and if anyone comes to visit him he will force them to watch it with him- opens the portal and walks through.

It feels disgusting and horribly dizzy. On the other side, there is a forest.

Xin Mo pushes spiritual energy through him as soon as they arrive in that world. Tells him that he is going to need it.

The forest path leads to a village; there, it is clearly a xianxia environment and Shen Yuan is pleased that his robes fit. He trades some vintage-looking pieces of jewelry he bought secondhand for coins of that world and is ready to stay a few days while he finds some spirit fruits or something.

Xin Mo is still an annoying bitch, but Shen Yuan gets used to it. Get his spiritual fruits, start a book of pressed flowers, spend a week of simple and comfortable life missing the internet and sleeping in uncomfortable beds at inns until the spirit fruits do their work, and Shen Yuan wakes up with a strange feeling in his veins and no need to wear glasses.

Xin Mo uses that to his advantage; the stronger Shen Yuan is, the more can influence in him, and the more can feed with the favorite foods blood and sex. Shen Yuan opens a portal back to his room at the end of the week, he answers some overdue messages to prove that he is still alive, and sleeps for a whole day in his bed.

He buys more xianxia clothes online, takes a risk by getting hair extensions to dispense his straw hat, and decides to go back. Just because he wants to continue upgrading his health a bit more, and well, he can cultivate spiritual energy now, right?

It turns out to be difficult. It's difficult to get cultivation manuals and difficult to get instructions. He barely manages to do so in some awkward ways, but discovers that all the cultivation manuals are clearly in the emperor's libraries.

So, he decides that he will pay tribute to Emperor Luo Binghe. He will offer him precious things and his only condition to continue providing that is… to visit his library.

Precious things, of course, are many things that he knows do not exist in that world. Coffee beans, cocoa beans, chocolate in all its forms. He refuses to allow things like tobacco into the world, but he does allow modern spices, modern recipes!!, even cheap jewelry turns out to be a precious thing because, what the hell, of course the world of PIDW wouldn't have the slightest idea what plastic is.

Shen Yuan introduces himself as a prince-diplomatic envoy from another world. His mission is to obtain certain information from this world... and the gifts are a test of the loyalty of the world from which he comes. Shen Yuan hopes that the demon court will be so enthralled by the foolish things he has brought that they will swallow his tale.

Luo Binghe doesn't seem convinced, but agrees.

So Shen Yuan comes every two-three weeks, covers Xin Mo in talismans to conceal it, transforms it into a pocket dagger, and hides it in the inner pockets of the shorts he wears underneath of the xianxia robes. And he brings a lot of gifts with him. He gets a little silly; he buys old-looking glass jars and fills them with hundreds of packets of instant ramen seasoning, and others with the instant ramen noodles. Explains how they are used and distributes them as gifts around the court. Bring candy without its plastic wrappers, more chocolates, chocolate peanuts, chocolate almonds? Chocolate powder! Powdered sugar! Marzipan! He brings makeup and skincare for the wives, and soon they are all wearing the most beautiful and impossible colors.

His chests are full of food from a distant world, their journeys seem to be long to return each time. Shen Yuan continues to learn; he is always under the distant watchful eye of Luo Binghe, but he does not steal any scrolls. He reads, he studies, he learns. His cultivation really improves, his fragile health does too.

Xin Mo is still that insolent and persistent bitch. However, the more Shen Yuan's cultivation improves... that bitch really seems to make more sense to him. As if his words were deeper, as if they settled there. So much resentment, so much pain from so many years, Shen Yuan is an unstable and irascible chaos. His gifts falter, his mood does so more.

Luo Binghe knows something is going on. He knew that this strange "prince" was not normal, but why does he look so corrupted lately? Luo Binghe doesn't know anything about him, where he even comes from, but he's going to find out. Whatever the cost.

[mandalhoerian]

(1) 🦭 signed, sealed, delivery pending...

Ferrying passengers and cargo between the mainland and the outlying islands is your family's livelihood. Life at sea holds its surprises, yet the routines remain reassuring — docking and departing, tourist antics, more docking and departing...

And there's the seal of course — the local celebrity trailing the ferry each day as though he's on the payroll. You think it might have been brought about by giving into his every whim and accidentally becoming his favorite person to be around in the process. But who would’ve guessed the truth, that he's actually a selkie who's spent years shadowing you, believing himself to be escorting his chosen bride all along?

genre: fluff, comedy | wc: 4K | read on ao3

next >

note: this is inspired by the giggly leg-kick inducing selkie raf fanart here by @/beechu-beechu!!!! i adore this raf to the moon and back, and all the seal videos i've watched (crybaby learns to swim) has prepared me for this moment. i hope you'll stick around for this very un-edited mini-series!

Your chest tightens pleasantly as you breathe in deep draughts of briny air, mist clinging to your tongue and lips, sharp and salty, anticipation of yet another day with your marine friend nudging your footsteps faster over slick cobblestones that echo softly against the buildings that line the street. Dawn hasn’t quite shaken off the night, draping everything in gauzy shadows, stretching slender fingers of soft gold across the rooftops, making you feel the gentle bite of the morning chill grazing your skin in a tingle of needles against your cheeks.

Ahead, the harbor emerges from the last traces of darkness, boats bobbing lazily against moorings that creak and groan like old friends in conversation as dockworkers shuffle around, silhouettes bent under cargo, and in comfortable and hushed chatting somehow overtaken by the screams of seagulls. Among them, your family's ferry waits patiently at its berth, outline illuminated by the muted brilliance of the rising sun — a scene so delicately composed you think it might’ve been painted by Edward Hopper himself each and every time you witness it.

“Hey hey, Elias!” you call, raising a hand to greet the old fisherman, his weather-creased face somehow aging a couple more years while he picks through a tangle of nets with focus.

He lifts his head, eyes crinkling fondly beneath his salt-stained cap. “Ah, mornin’, lass!"

"Brought something with me today. I want to see if it helps with the bait bucket problem."

"Boy is addicted to easy pickings, I doubt that. Wee nyaff owes me half a season’s catch by now.” Elias's rumbling chuckles have warmth rumbling through your chest. “Can’t fault him for his good taste in company when he has treats delivered to his doorstep, though.”

“Nice try,” you say, your tone mock-stern, a smile tugging insistently at the corner of your mouth. “But flattery’s not buying you extra coffee today.”

His laughter echoes briefly before it’s swallowed by the soft slosh of water beneath the docks, and he peers out across the idly rolling tide, affection blending with mild irritation as his fingers start working faster.

"That's fine," he says. "Having you back is enough. My poor boat needed a break from all that terrorizing."

You laugh at that with an embarrassed, heavy heart.

Six months have melted away since you traded your graduation cap for the familiar sight of gulls wheeling above the docks. You’d returned home carrying equal parts eagerness and obligation, drawn back into your father’s orbit, hoping, perhaps, to ease some of the burdens he’d never openly admit were weighing him down.

Leaving for university felt like stepping aboard a departing train, thrilling and dizzying as it rattled toward a glittering unknown named the future. City life was a constant hum you were ill-prepared for — nights brimming with noise, friendships blazing bright but fleeting as sparks — but somewhere along the way, that excitement quietly dimmed, and in its absence grew a tender longing, whisper-soft, for a simpler past, back when your world was defined by the comforting cadence of the ferry schedule and the friendly bustle of seasonal visitors.

So, under the spotlight of shame, coming home felt oddly disjointed at first, as though stepping back into a photograph that had stubbornly refused to fade, preserved, untouched by time — the docks still busy at dawn, fishermen hauling in their catches, schoolkids racing, backpacks swinging wildly, the scent of fresh bread spilling from the bakery door at exactly eight sharp every morning. Life moved here in steady, predictable rhythms, each beat familiar enough to lull you into comfort, yet somehow magnifying a subtle, restless niggling deep within your chest.

Because beneath the comforting yet burdensome familiarity that's a bed of nails at night, you can't shake the quiet sensation that returning was more retreat than progress.

You feel it most keenly when whispers trail in your wake, pointed glances exchanged between curious neighbors whose mouths curve around your name like a secret. They wonder aloud — in voices just low enough to feign politeness — about how university might have shaped you, or perhaps, more poignantly, left you unchanged.

You can feel their quiet amusement, the delight in the idea of the girl who once dreamed beyond the island now anchored firmly back in place, tethered once more to the ferry ropes and her father’s stubborn pride.

Not that Dad would ever breathe a word of needing assistance. Pride is his quiet strength and silent curse, a barrier more solid than the island's rocky coastline. You'd notice him sometimes, catching fleeting moments when he believes no one was watching — rubbing the weariness from his shoulders after hefting crates heavier than he’d admit, wincing just a little as his knees protest bending to secure the moorings, lips pressing into a thin, shaky line. It makes your heart twist like a wet rag, knowing his stubbornness masked vulnerability, and you'd resolved, quietly yet firmly, that your presence would stay constant until further notice.

Besides, the arrangement came with undeniable perks — a roof overhead without rent’s shadow hanging over your head, meals rich with nostalgia’s comforting flavor, and the cradle-like sway and creak of deck boards beneath your feet. It's more than enough compensation, more than fair payment, for the small surrender of uncertain ambitions to the nonjudgmental embrace of home.

By nonjudgmental you mean the weight of being allowed to take time in figuring your stuff out inbetween all the nausea-inducing sessions of admitting to yourself you're absolutely lost and don't have the slightest idea what you're going to do next.

So, yeah. Things are going great.

Still, despite everything, there’s at least one soul whose very presence smooths away any lingering doubts you had about returning home.

Well — perhaps not exactly a person.

There he is, your seal companion of years, lounging right there on the loading ramp as though he's claimed ownership of the whole harbor, proudly blocking Dad’s path as usual.

Today, Raf’s gray coat catches the clementine of the morning sun like liquid bronze, sleek fur glistening wetly, shimmering with subtle gold beneath droplets of seawater, and tiny flecks of fish scales cling stubbornly to his whiskers, the glittering remnants of his breakfast. You try your hardest to summon a stern mask of reprimand to your face — someone needs to teach this cheeky little shit some manners before either you or Dad dive headfirst into the sea because of Raf's sunbathing spot choices — but one glance into his wide, guileless eyes instantly dissolves your resolve into warm-hearted resignation.

With a mock-exasperated sigh, you lean down, scratching softly beneath his chin and tracing scratching circles in the thick fur around his neck, and Raf immediately responds, rolling onto his side and enthusiastically clapping his flippers together like an actor performing a rehearsed trick. You feel like he's Pavlov-ed you into yielding to his desires by rewarding you with cuteness, and burst into laughter, the sound rippling sweetly across the bay.

"Hi, hi, hi, my cutie pie," you coo softly in a sing-song voice that's the usual ritualistic greeting you have for him, smile brightening as you reveal a small stash of dried salmon you'd slipped into your bag. "I didn't forget my promise."

Raf perks up immediately, twisting himself with a delighted wriggle that ends with his tail thumping happily against the ramp, peering upward, eyes large and pleading, more expressive than any puppy’s. A heartbeat later, he's flopped dramatically onto his side, one flipper thrust skyward in hopeful invitation, and your cheeks ache from the persistent grin stretching across your face, but that hardly matters.

For a few joyful minutes, you're lost in a game of enthusiastic 'handshakes,' finishing with good, thorough tummy scritches before starting to feed him.

"Keep spoiling the damn thing, and he'll forget how to fish altogether," Dad grumbles affectionately as he passes by, hoisting another heavy crate bound for one of the smaller islands. You resist the urge to tease him about who’s really spoiling whom around here — considering how easily he gives in to your own puppy eyes — and instead settle for an innocent shrug, shaking the salmon bag, unaware of Raf following the notion with his neck elongating impossibly due to his unbelievable flexibility.

"Aww, come on. Look at that irresistible face! You can't help but want to give him whatever he wants!"

"Mm'begh, egg, ggeaaaghh," snorts Raf, wiggling under your pets, and even Dad is amused enough to pause and raise his eyebrows at the silly seal before moving along.

After a minute of playful petting, you pull yourself upright and stretch, wondering how many fish in the ocean smell this fresh and clean. The scent alone reminds you of childhood summer vacations splashing around, blissfully ignorant of any underlying responsibilities or cares.

"Get your fat cat off the ramp before he trips one of us up."

On cue, Raf slaps a fin theatrically against his rounded belly, releasing a snuffling grunt that sounds suspiciously like a tiny piglet rather than a seal: "Mmpppshh."

"Don't listen to him," you reassure Raf solemnly, as though comforting a wounded toddler. "You’re not fat. You're just… well-built. Big bones."

Your half-serious tone earns you several enthusiastic thwaps of Raf’s wet flippers against your calves, making you laugh despite your best efforts to feign sternness. "UUUUAAAAAAGH!!!"

With an exaggerated sigh, you give in, bending down for another pat. "Alright, easy there, handsome. Time to get to work."

Yet Raf, predictably, sees this only as an invitation for more attention, rolling onto his back once again, flippers splayed wide, belly fully exposed in expectation of being cradled like a newborn. Maybe he just wants another belly rub. Or maybe he senses how much you cherish these little interactions, savoring the warmth of mutual affection like it's as essential as breathing. It certainly seems to keep him lively and robust — after all, you’re with him far more than anyone else. There are countless days spent sharing scraps from lunch, swimming side-by-side from island to island, or teaching him new tricks as thinly-veiled excuses for play. Even Dad has remarked (with a teasing grin that you pointedly ignore) that Raf seems more like your best friend than anyone else in town.

And really, what's the harm? Spoiling a seal who clearly enjoys your company hardly counts as indulgent. It's simply mutual happiness, a comforting addiction you've willingly embraced: the velvety smoothness of dark-gray fur beneath your fingers, the hidden strength of his sleek body, the endearing little huff he gives when your windbreaker tickles his sensitive whiskers. All of it — absolutely addictive.

"You know exactly how unfair this is," you finally giggle softly, deciding to have mercy on your heart (and Raf’s belly) for now. "Come on, buddy."

"Ppppfffrrrshh."

With a playful little bounce, Raf balances briefly on his foreflippers, wobbling theatrically before launching himself gracefully off the ramp into the calm water below, sending a silvery plume everywhere, and he surfaces once, twice, three times — each pretty leap arching through the dawn-tinted waves, always teasing, never coming nearer than a safe distance of about ten feet from where you stand as he glides easily in lazy circles around the ferry’s bow, waiting patiently for you to climb aboard.

Slowly, the bleary-eyed commuters begin filing onto the ferry, faces etched with lingering dreams and shoulders hunched beneath the invisible weight of daily responsibilities, and you greet each with energetic warmth to start off the day, offering an amiable nod and a reassuring smile as they pass.

"Coffee’s fresh if you need it, other beverage options and food are available as well in the passenger cabin's buffet," you inform, trying to be a comforting balm to their early-morning weariness. Relief flashes briefly across some tired eyes as you watch people go in and out with hands that tighten gratefully around steaming cups, savoring the warmth like precious embers that ward off the chill.

The tourists follow closely behind after your usuals, pouring aboard in a cheerful wave of bright-eyed excitement as they clutch tightly to their guidebooks, maps, and expensive cameras, animated chatter in various foreign languages floods the deck and shoos away the remnants of the sleepy calm, their infectious enthusiasm cascading over you, a vibrant hum that makes even the most mundane tasks feel fresh and lively.

A woman leans eagerly across the railing, eyes searching for something in the water, but doesn't break any safety rules. She must be a seasoned traveler. "Will we see the famous seal today?"

You cast her a self-satisfied glance, nodding knowingly toward the shimmering expanse of the harbor. "I'd say the odds are pretty high, given he's basically imprinted on this ferry," you promise, and as though summoned by your certainty, Raf’s sleek form breaches the gentle swell, fur catching the sunlight in an iridescent cascade. "Right on cue — there's our local star."

A wave of delighted murmurs and gasps ripples across the deck, the enthusiastic click of cameras rising like an orchestra chef's signal as Raf begins his performance, slicing effortlessly between waves and drawing dramatic curves through the water, slowing his movements deliberately to let the ferry glide past before starting his 'warm-up laps' again. Tourists are absolutely losing it over getting to see something like this up close, every splash and proud bob of his glossy head eliciting cheers and applause that would scare every single sea animal around the perimeter. But not Raf. He's used to it by now.

"So, everyone — meet Raf!" you call out above the enthusiastic chatter, pointing with a flourish toward the glossy head bobbing in the waves. "He's friendly enough, so don't panic if he hops aboard for a visit. But keep your distance — not because he'll bite, mind you, but because he'll bruise your ego when he pretends you don't exist. He enjoys your admiration strictly from afar. He's a star like that."

A cheerful chorus of laughter, aww-ing and agreement rings out in response.

Taking advantage of the good mood, you repeat the safery regulations and warnings before you busy yourself assisting passengers, guiding them to their seats and helping stow bags in the compartments tucked beneath. You have to announce the route the ferry will take and how long the stops will be, and then, the ferry is pulling smoothly away from the docks, leaving the harbor behind and setting course over waters shimmering brilliantly beneath the sun.

Several adventurous tourists stake out prime spots along the ferry's edge, though many soon retreat inward, driven away by sharp gusts whipping their hair into tangles and peppering their faces with chilly, sharp salt spray. You stroll leisurely between the seats, pausing here and there for pleasant banter about the scenery, local delicacies, or family holidays gone awry, keeping the conversations is easy and light, and you're met with appreciative nods and smiles.

Out across the waves, sunlight dances like scattered jewels, creating diamond-dust illusions whenever a gust scatters spray towards the sky. Every now and then, Raf's sleek form slices effortlessly through the glittering waves, drawing joyful gasps and delighted pointing from your captivated audience.

To anyone coming aboard for the first time, Raf gives every impression of being charming, approachable — even sociable. A casual observer might assume he’s perfectly at ease with human company, considering how effortlessly he weaves himself into the daily bustle around the ferry, acting every bit the seasoned local soaking up attention. At first, you’d happily fallen for the same illusion, even rejoicing a bit at the idea that he was genuinely warming up to people when he started making regular appearances.

Reality, however, quickly proved less rosy. That endearing exterior was, and still is, hiding a nasty streak you could swear was deliberate, because Raf seems to delight in luring people in, coaxing them into thinking they've made a furry new friend — only to abruptly turn aloof, snubbing them with the ease of a ghoster. It’s as if he takes twisted pleasure in watching visitors wilt in disappointment, and so you've learned to offer friendly yet firm warnings upfront: admire him, laugh at his antics, but don't get too cozy or you’re bound to wind up nursing a heartbreak.

Suddenly, there are gasps among the crowd.

Well, mostly screams at first, before turning into delighted giggles.

"Look, over there!" A child shrieks with uncontainable excitement, sprinting eagerly toward the railing at the ferry’s side deck.

Your head snaps up immediately, and a laugh escapes you before you can suppress it. You didn't think your overly confident companion could still manage to surprise you after so many months spent sharing the sea.

Raf has flopped his way onto the ferry once again. Like he belongs, the cocky little shit. Raf glides gracelessly across the deck, flippers waving with dramatic flair — almost comically bird-like — until gravity decisively interrupts his attempted elegance. His slick body careens straight into a pole, skidding downward with a recoiling thud and ending the journey facedown right beside your boots.

"Oh, so gracious of you to rejoin us, Your Majesty," you tease affectionately, nudging him with your toe. "Seems like you get lazier with every trip. Keep hitching rides like this and we'll have to start charging you."

A squeaky little noise slips from Raf's throat, quickly followed by a sneeze-snort that's frankly too adorable to handle. You can't help yourself — you adore every silly, ridiculous part of this creature with those impossibly round, innocent eyes.

A couple kids swarm over as soon as they gather confidence to approach him. "Can we pet him?"

Look at that. Like clockwork.

With a gentle hand, you stroke his back, fingers gliding down his sleek, slippery fur from head to tail, quietly rewarding him for tolerating the children's excitement. "Alright, Raf is a little jumpy sometimes, so we can only pet him one at a time, okay guys? Remember, slow and gentle. Don't spook him."

One boy bravely kneels, gingerly scratching beneath Raf’s chin, giggling when Raf playfully nudges him with an almost haughty flick of his nose. Another child, more timid, holds out her palm for Raf to sniff and squeals when Raf leans forward to bump her inconspicuously enough to topple her onto her backside. The first wave of curious kids gets the others clustering around when they see there's nothing to be afraid of, and soon enough, squeals are louder than the ferry itself as parents linger close by, protective yet smiling fondly at the playful interactions between their children and the beloved seal.

You know Raf better than anyone, how he's around people — the cautious way he approaches, simultaneously wary and irresistibly curious, how those large, ink-dark eyes study every new movement with intent fascination, watchful yet hesitant as hands reach toward his glossy fur. It speaks volumes about his trust in you that he tolerates curious bombardments of attention every day, only flinching or skittering backward when a visitor's gesture becomes too swift or unpredictable for comfort, just as he's doing right now with these children (whom he's generally more tolerating towards.)

Occasionally though, someone ends up with an accidental nip — never serious enough to break skin, usually just leaving behind a faint pinkish mark and perhaps a startled expression. But thankfully, these incidents are rare, mostly limited to times when you're not around to ease his nerves and mediate with the person who just wants to pet him and most likely (always) in the wrong about boundaries of a wild animal.

And right now, some time after with the fawning of children and parents taking photos in an unofficial queue, you recognize his signals immediately — the way he blows raspberries and starts shifting restlessly — clear indications he's becoming overwhelmed. As soon as you see him squirming to indicate he'll start galumphing away from the eager crowd any second now, you swiftly intervene, encouraging nearby parents to corral their energetic kids and give him some breathing room.

"Alright, that's enough excitement for this morning!" you call cheerfully, ushering everyone back to their seats. "We'll be reaching our destination soon — please find your places and settle in."

As the passengers reluctantly scatter back to their seats and Raf bounces away to get back into the safety and comfort of the sea without even a glance back at you like he's blaming you for his peril, one woman remains beside you, her eyes lingering appreciatively on Raf as he glides effortlessly back into the waves. "You’ve trained him remarkably well."

That comment leaves an acidic residue in your stomach. You've never thought of Raf as an animal you had to tame into shape, or that he needed to be disciplined like a dog. It isn't about interfering with wildlife and never treating him as a pet either (though you also were very well aware). He simply is a companion you were grateful to have in your life that terms like training have always been demeaning to hear pertaining to him.

"Honestly, Raf is the cleverest sea critter I've ever known," you reply with genuine affection, quickly adding, "Though I wouldn't exactly call it 'training.'"

Her eyebrows lift with mild intrigue. "Oh, really?"

"Yeah, nothing formal or complicated. Mostly just treats and encouragement, getting him comfortable around us, making sure human attention is positive for him. Simple stuff," you explain, resting casually against the railing. "He took to accepting snacks from my hand on his own — didn't even have to teach him. He just picked it up naturally, even posing nicely when tourists want photos. Mind you, he used to drive fishermen mad. My friend Elias still swears Raf sabotaged his fishing line out of spite."

Her grin broadens, matching yours, and a strong gust ruffles her blonde pixie cut like fluff from a dandelion caught in the wind. "He sounds ready for the big top. You might just have yourself a circus performer," she jokes lightly. "He seems to put on a real show whenever you're around."

Your smile dims a bit — remembering those early days weren't always so playful. The faint scars on your arm still ache whenever it rains. "I wish," you admit, wrists flexing. "But Raf gets nervous fast and ultimately does his own thing. If he listens to me at all, it’s only because he's comfortable. We grew up together, more or less. Maybe he sees this place as a secondary rookery, I don't know."

She tilts her head in subtle amazement before nodding. "You must really care for him. I’ve never seen someone handle a wild animal so naturally."

"Having his trust is special," you reply earnestly, gaze drifting toward Raf as he circles alongside the ferry, rolling with the waves as though he were just another seabird drifting with the wind. "It's rare to earn that kind of bond with a creature as smart and free-spirited as him. I’m incredibly lucky."

"He really does make one want to believe in selkies," she adds, leaning back against the rail as though preparing for a lengthy conversation.

"Selkies?"

An amused little chuckle answers before words do. "Surely you've heard of them — magical beings said to be able to shapeshift between a seal and human form." Her mouth curves into an odd smile. "It's very sad actually, the stories of the female selkies. They can shed their sealskins at will and take on a human form, but if they lose their coats, they have no choice but to stay ashore forever." She lowers her eyelashes, softening her features. "And even worse — according to lore, some men claim the skins and force the poor women who already have their mates into marriage."

"That's horrible," you reply, swallowing hard. Just thinking of Raf being bound to anyone in such a violent way makes your fists clench instinctively. You may not believe in supernatural fairy tales, but the thought of him being trapped sickens you, even for pretend. "Those men ought to be taken out to sea and keelhauled till their flesh is bloody fish bait."

The image that phrase conjures definitely has her smiling ear-to-ear.

"What about the male selkies? Is the tale genderbent in their case?"

"Well... Selkie men are seducers."

"What?" you almost scream. "That's radically different than—"

"I know," she cuts you off with a reassuring tone. "True to how the society was like back then, they had a lot more freedom. Nothing about coat-stealing or anything. Just women who are unsatisfied in their lives and relationships, also lonely fishermen wives, who summon a selkie lover by shedding seven tears into the sea at high tide on a full moon. And interestingly, those selkie men truly love their human lovers and their offspring. If their genre is romance, the stories of female selkies getting forcefully married are just horror."

"Realism, I guess," you say, trying to wrap your mind around the details.

You briefly picture Raf as one of those legendary beings. Knowing he wouldn't touch any human being with a five foot pole, you imagine it would be nothing short of wishing for a genie in a bottle but summoning a trickster spirit instead.

[redhoodinternaldialectical]

Counterintuitively, Jason trafficking drugs himself, and the way he treats drug dealers in general is actually one of the core reasons I do believe he has a real moral backbone.

In Lost Days we see him mention that he killed his small arms teacher because the smack he was dealing was poisoned. In Nightwing (2016) Annual #2 Jason is particularly violent towards their enemy because he cut his heroin with other substances, leading to his mother's first overdose. In Under the Red Hood, his most important rule is 'no selling to kids', and he is specifically employing people who do sell drugs to adults.

Playing a bit of Headcanon Jazz here - listening to the notes Jason doesn't play as much as the ones he does - It feels really notable to me that dealing drugs is not enough to get on Jason's shit list. On some level Jason thinks it's okay to deal drugs. Even more importantly: Jason doesn't at all imply that drug users are at fault - nor that they need to have the choice to use taken from them 'for their own good'. Heck, I can't remember any instance of him saying that doing drugs is a bad thing.

He has lived with and cared for someone struggling with an addiction that she died to, which would have made it really easy to take him in a 'no leniency, no tolerance, kill all drug dealers and burn all the crack so no one can smoke it' road. Yet that's the opposite of how he's operating.

And I'm putting all that together to get a Jason who firmly believes in harm reduction and that when it comes to drugs, people have a right to risk; they have a right to choose to use. I don't think it's too much further of a stretch to say that he thinks that those who do use should be supported by infrastructure ensuring that their drugs are uncut and properly dosed and that they should have safe places to use and well funded rehab options if they want to quit.

This whole thing is so important to me because it lies completely outside of his emotional conflict of 'I wasn't avenged'; it's proof that there was more to Jason's talk about running Gotham differently than simply killing people.

Factually, there are a huge number of criminal activities that could be used to improve the lives of vulnerable people.

I firmly believe that no government has the right to detain, imprison, deport, et.c. people fleeing violence and persecution in their country of origin. A criminal organization that genuinely had their best interest in mind who could provide access to new identities, jobs, housing, and paperwork for cheap could save and change hundreds of lives. Sex workers, especially survival sex workers who want to quit and move on to a new job, could benefit enormously from protection from the cops, and from landlords kicking them out, and the ability to get criminal charges purged from their records, and lots of other stuff. People who use street drugs need a lot of the same things, as do people who need access to medication but for whatever reason can't get prescriptions the legal way.

This is all stuff that is already a staple of organized crime - they just do it in ways that are insanely abusive and exploitative.

It makes sense that Jason would look at that and think he could make it work! Honestly I'd love to read a comic about him trying! He could be the pinnacle of Be Gay Do Crime! Sadly though, it's very unlikely we ever will, especially because his term as a drug lord was so incredibly short to begin with. Under the Red Hood, a tiny snippet of Robin (1993) and Green Arrow (2001) #69 - #72 is really all we get, and none of those really got into the politics of his organization either.

Tho, there is a tiny snippet we possibly see in Seeing Red, my favorite Jason run ever, and I will take any excuse to talk about it so here we go lol!

This is a comic in which Batman gets some things wrong about Jason, and might be straight up lying to Green Arrow in places too, so I don't think we can take his word for it when he says Jason is driving up the trade. Especially not when Jason hasn't given a single flying fuck about collecting wealth for himself in basically any other appearance ever.

Is he using drugs as a trading good to some capacity? Yes, that's a minor plot point here, however, I think justice is very present in his reasoning. I think Jason is being selective with which shipments he's keeping - testing each and destroying the stuff that's extra dangerous, making sure that what's getting used is as safe as it can be. Plus, he might be reducing the supply so that drug trade can't expand, while considering complete elimination to be flatly undesirable, since it could force users to go cold turkey, something that can be dangerous, or at least very painful.

Now, obviously this is still headcanon territory, we never really see into Jason's head about this specific topic, but I do feel like it's a reasonable way to fill in that gap!

Anyways, this is why I've never felt like Jason's disagreements with Bruce's methods were purely about his own emotional desires. There's too much else surrounding that which he clearly also cares about.

[satellitecock]

Some questions don't need to be answered.

The office reeks of mint. Everything smells like mint. What is he doing in that cubicle. This is horrible and doesn't make any sense!!!!

[transformation4life]

Big Ol' Gains

(Trade with: @bigwishes)

I never understood why my body just wouldn't grow. I've been going to the gym for months now and my body hasn't reflect that at all! My chest is flat, no abs to be seen, and twigs for arms! It's just not fair. I see the big guys around my local gym and I get so jealous... But that changes today! I found something that will most definitely change that. It's called... "Big Ol' Protein". I found an ad for it that promised results or my money back and I couldn't resist guaranteed gains. I even paid for express shipping so it arrived before my next workout. i waited patiently by the door until i heard a bell ring and the box arrived. I was so giddy that I unboxed it and looked at it in awe. The first thing in the box was some sort of warning and side effects of using the protein but like I care! I make a shake and put it in the fridge for tomorrow. I'm gonna get some gains!

The next morning I wake up bright and early and grab my workout bad along with my shake arriving at the gym soon after and dousing the shake in one sitting before getting on with my routine. Compared to my last gym session this time it felt amazing! Maybe this stuff actually worked! I was dripping in sweat and felt like I had the best pump of my life. I looked down and it looked like I've gained some bulk! It worked! I just need to consume more of this stuff and I'm set.

One week later...

God, this stuff really works... I've gained so much bulk in just a week. I even took a selfie to commemorate. The first I've taken since I've started working out!

I wasn't expecting to start growing facial hair but maybe it's the extra testosterone in my veins and I'm definitely not complaining. I could even fear my rear and "down there" growing... For the first time other gym goers have asked ME for advice and even seasoned gym goers want to talk to me! My life is finally coming around! Although I still need to get bigger... I'm not done yet...

Three weeks later...

I can't get enough of Big Ol' protein I've started putting it in my food and day to day drinks. A meal without Big Ol' protein is a meal not worth eating. I've gotten some friends who want to bulk up just like me and are happy to take progress photos for me. Don't I look even huger than last time?

Every part of my body has bulked immensely since I started. Just looking at anything is euphoric. My legs are like two thick trunks of pure beef.

Some of my workout buddies are getting concerned with how much Big Ol' protein I've been consuming, but they just don't understand the grind of getting big. My rear has also blossomed into two bouncy balloons of pure muscle. I can't help but give 'em a squeeze.

With that mind however I must do whatever it takes to get big. Nothing else matters. I must get bigger... I need to get BIGGER.

Three months later...

It's been so long since Big Ol' Protein changed my life. All my clothes are getting too small for and I couldn't be happier to find that out. I live, breathe, and of course eat Big Ol' Protein. Testosterone is flowing through my veins and it's exhilarating. I don't care if I'm addicted I love it almost as much as my gains. I'm even sponsored by the company now it's great! My workout buddies look at me in awe now and I'm basically the kind of my gym now. People fawn over to me asking for advice. All I say is start consuming Big Ol' protein. God I love my big Bulking body more than anything, but I'm not done. I will never will be done. I need to get bigger and bigger and bigger and bigger. And also a flex wouldn't hurt.

"Fuck yeah look at those biceps..."

[xazse]

we need more male reader for hybrid fics PLEASEEEE bottom or top reader IT DOESNT MATTERER

QUICK LITTLE THIRSTS FOR MY MALE READERS, I NEED YOU GUYS TO REQUEST MORE!!! NEOWWW!! GET IN MY INBOX NOW!

Cw: DomMale!Reader x PuppyHybrid!Satoru x KittyHybrid!Suguru + attachment issues + + bottom!Satoru + bottom!suguru + smut

DomMale!Reader who knows how hard it is for PuppyHybrid!Satoru and KittyHybrid!Suguru to take your thick cock, as much as they love the process of you fingering them and getting them ready when it’s finally time they both go silent and stare at you with flushed faces, they’ve done this multiple times but it’s still so hypnotizing to see you slide the condom on your cock.

You think it’s so fucking cute how they shuffle and nervously try not to look at you, with their flattened ears and still tails.

When they are getting prepped it’s normal for them to cum at least two times, they’re too sensitive unlike you, when they had first met you they hadn’t even touched their cocks, you were the first to show them the world of pleasure and they were addicted.

You stroke their cocks while two of your digits enter and leave them painfully slow at first, Suguru is first and he usually tries to remain quiet, tries to keep his cute moans under wraps, you’re having none of it. A quick slap to his ass and a thick scolding from you shapes him up.

You know the poor kitty loves it when he’s so obviously purring and his leaky cock twitching in between his thighs.

Satoru is rather loud, he moans just as much as he talks it’s sexy at first, he seems so small in bed not size wise but just with the way he feels then eventually starts talking a ton, talking and being rather impatient about how much he wants your cock and how he’s been waiting all day for you to get off, so stop teasing him and just fuck him already.

And that you do, you know he’s nothing like Suguru so you take full advantage of being able to pound into him as hard as he wants, the poor puppy feels so fucking good, the way your long cock hits his spot over and over has him shuddering and seeing stars.

You’re cooing at him, how good he feels and how good he’s being in general, you grab the man’s legs and push them towards his head, angling your cock even deeper. His pesky tail gets in the way so you hold it down and he yelps, you know how sensitive his tail can be but you ignore that in favor of slamming your length into him over and over.

After discarding of a sleepy Satoru you set your eyes on your pretty kitty, who’s been waiting so patiently with an erect cock you told him not to touch at all, of course he listened, Suguru always listens.

Suguru loves to be facing when you’re balls deep in him, he loves being able to reach up anytime and give you a sloppy wet kiss, trading his drool with your spit.

You go slow for him, aiming your cock deep inside of him but not too much to the point where he’ll cum too soon. He’s whining under you so beautiful it’s hypnotic. You kiss all over his face slowly and sensually, also telling him how good he is for taking you so properly.

They’re such a good kitty and puppy, always love having their ears rubbed and tails teased with.