#like starting with little details and then going to the broader picture

[rosenfey]

reporting that i hath written. last night and then had to go to sleep because my body was telling me its late and im learning to listen to it. i still think it was ass but it is there. so. thats already an improvement

anyway I feel better now because I realised that exploring the same themes and character dynamics as what has already been done before is actually okay because it's just a different flavour of the same thing and even though I can't write it like others do nobody can also write it like I would so.

[elisysd]

18. You know I dream in color and do the things I want

Masterlist - Previously - Next

Chapter soundtrack: Stronger (What doesn’t kill you) - Kelly Clarkson

Charles was so excited to have you back in the paddock with him. His performances and the car were starting to get better and he knew that your presence would only bring extra motivation to him. You had explained to him in thorough detail your plan and showed him notes and a list of guests you would love to have. If it had stung to not see his name on top of it at first, he quickly understood where your goal was lying. 

“Luc would be so proud of you, you know,” he whispered in your ear as you were drifting on and off of sleep in his private jet as you were on your way to Austin.

He was almost sure to find you smiling sadly hearing the name of your brother or to see the spark in your eyes dim. But it wasn’t the case. Instead, your smile got broader and your eyes shone brighter. 

“I’m going to try to have Newey on the podcast. He was Luc’s idol.”

“I thought I was!”

“And you are,” you laughed. “but Newey isn’t far behind you. And truthfully, I’m so curious to chat with him. I want to know what is written inside that red notebook.”

“Me too. Please, if you manage to have access to it, can you take pictures of what is inside so Ferrari knows how to build a fast car for next year?”

You laughed as you cuddled to his side, trying to make yourself comfortable. There was nothing you hated more on earth than taking the plane. Being thousand miles away from the ground without any options to rely on if things started to go wrong was not a pleasant feeling. You couldn’t wait for the flight to be over and to step out of the private jet, breathing clear air. 

It was the late evening when you finally made it to Austin. You were not that tired and wanted to take the opportunity to meet your old colleagues downtown. Some would say, you had hidden motivations and the get together was not coming from pure intentions. You preferred to see it as mixing business with pleasure for once. Seeing Jean and Marion made your heart miss a beat. You had braced yourself with the feeling that meeting them again would inevitably bring back old memories. Their friendly faces reminded you of the first time you stepped foot in the office, as a freshly new joiner, all lost, confused but still eager to learn. The first GP and interviews under Marion’s wing, the first pre-race meeting and first debrief. It seemed like a lifetime ago when in fact it had only been a few months. So much had changed. You had changed. 

“Y/N! I’m so happy to see you,” Marion greeted you, a smile on her face before engulfing you in a hug. 

“It’s good to be here with you guys.”

“So… your little project? Care to tell us more about it. I have to say, I’m very excited,” Jean threw an arm around your shoulder, before guiding you to their table.

You spent the next hours explaining in every detail your plan and how you would put it into action. When you finally were over, Marion smirked and rummaged through her handbag before handing you something you knew very well. 

“If you really are going to create your own media, you need a pass,” she winked. 

“I suppose. But I don’t think this one works anymore,” you said, bittersweet, caressing your old pass suddenly feeling nostalgic.  

“Well, you are arriving with Charles so you don’t have to scan his one at the entry. But no one will verify thoroughly if you wear it inside the paddock. They only need to see media on it to let you have access to the areas,” Jean assured you. 

“I don’t know if I’m okay with lying.”

“You don’t lie. You’re still a journalist, right?”

Coming back to the hotel, later than expected, you found Charles mindlessly scrolling on his phone, his cap backwards and in his loungewear. You kissed him before sitting in front of him to expose him the situation and your plan. 

“So it is like a James Bond roleplay? You’re infiltrating the paddock. Can I be your James Bond girl?”

“You’re an idiot,” you chuckled. 

“But seriously, isn’t it risky?”

“It is, I guess. But if I give up because it is a bit risky, what does it say of me? I really want to make this media happen. And I know you could help and you also know that I appreciate it, but it is something I need to do by myself. I’ve been so used to living my life for others that I don’t know who I really am. What I like and what I want.  This is the first time I’m doing something that feels right on every level. Please, allow me to get to the bottom of my idea. If it’s not working, then I’ll ask for your help. Until then, please step aside. I know you believe in me and I know you support me. It’s enough.”

You could see on Charles’ face that you were asking a lot from him but after a few seconds, he nodded. 

The next day, you arrived a little later than him at the paddock and made your way to the Ferrari’s hospitality where Rebeca, Carlos’ new girlfriend, was typing on her computer, probably working. You hadn’t had the occasion to talk to her that much besides a few ‘hello’ here and there. You didn’t have anything against her, you just knew you didn’t have anything in common to talk about. She was the typical wag, you were not and you had no desire to become. Most people were busy, as always when it was media day. Everyone had their own thing to do and babysitting wags were not on their list, which was exactly what you needed. 

You were searching for one person in particular. You wanted to launch the first episode of your podcast during the break between Interlagos and Las Vegas, so you could have time to meet with graphists to launch the promotional operation of your baby, for which you still didn’t have a name. But it was almost at lunchtime that your best opportunity appeared. Silvia Hoffer, Ferrari’s media team lead, entered the room and you almost jumped out of your seat to reach her. 

She seemed surprised to see you and you could feel her judgmental eyes scanning you from top to bottom. You never had the occasion to talk to her much, Charles advising you to avoid her, but you had always been curious of her position. She was a key element in the well oiled machine that was Ferrari’s PR and you were sure she was a very interesting person. That’s why she was in pole position on your people to interview list. 

“Silvia. Nice to see you here,” you started the conversation. 

“Well, I’m working here,” she replied, almost ignoring you.

“Yeah, that’s why I’m talking to you,” you blurted out with confidence, catching her off guard. 

“And could you tell me what you need, Y/N?”

“Two hours of your time.”

She laughed in disbelief but you didn’t budge. If you wanted to make this work, you needed all the self-confidence you could find in you. 

“And for what? What mistakes have Charles made that I need to fix? Are you pregnant?”

“Actually, he didn’t do anything and he also doesn’t know that I’m talking to you. I’m here for a more… personal matter.”

She glanced suspiciously at you and you gulped before continuing. 

“I’m launching my own media, a podcast, where I want to interview people from the paddock who work behind the scenes and you are on my list. You have such an important role inside of Ferrari. You are a direct link between us, the media people, and the drivers. It’s essential and I would love for more people to get to know your role, get to know you. I’m sure you could inspire so many people out there. It would be an hour-long interview where you could talk about your journey to F1, all the hardships and amazing moments. I know you worked with Fernando Alonso and McLaren, surely there are things that you could share.”

“I see you did your research.”

“I came prepared.”

You saw her hesitating and contemplating the idea. It was already a win for you. She sighed and sat on a chair, her coffee between her hands as she motioned you to join her. 

“I’m not used to people wanting to talk to me for who I am and what I do. Usually they depict me as a witch and that’s it, it doesn’t go deeper than that.”

“Maybe it could be the occasion to prove them wrong, then,” you smiled as you left her alone to think your offer through. But as you were making your way to your side of the hospitality, you smirked, convinced that you had managed to book your very first guest. 

She came to find you at the end of the afternoon as you were working on the interview’s conduct.

“When would you like the recording to take place?” she asked. 

“Does it mean that you are okay with the interview?”

“I wouldn’t ask this question if I wasn’t.”

“Well, as soon as possible, I guess. I have all my equipment with me and I can set them up easily.”

“I should be out of there around 8pm, we could do that in my hotel room, if that suits you.”

“It’s perfect,” you smiled and nodded as she came back to where she was coming from. 

When she was out of eyesight and no one was around to witness it, you bumped your fist in the air and jumped around. You were ninety percent convinced she was going to accept but you didn’t want to consider it like a done deal before you had her fully agreeing.  

You finished preparing everything right when Charles appeared in the hospitality, cowboy hat on his head and a big buckle around his waist, making you laugh. 

“Howdy lady? Where is the bull that I have to take down today?”

“You look amazing. Let me take a picture, I’m sure your fans would appreciate the view.”

“Please don’t! They are making fun of my clothes enough,” he shook his head as he bent down to kiss the top of your head. “What is that?” he asked, nodding in the direction of your screen opened on your notes and making you close it precipitaly. 

“Work. I have my first guest lined-up and ready to be interviewed tonight,” you announced, excited. 

“Already? Damn, you are fast! I’m so proud of you, baby. I knew you could do it. And who is it?” 

“Silvia.”

“Silvia? As in red witch Silvia? The one who wanted me to find a girlfriend to make me look good? We are talking about the same Silvia?” 

“We do, indeed.”

“And you are interviewing her? Why?” he asked in disbelief. 

“Because I believe she is not what you make her look like. You are judging her based on how she behaves and does her job. Which is also what you did with me and what I did with you and look how we turned out. She deserved to have a chance to tell her story and to let people judge her based on who she really is and not what we made her out to be. Don’t you think?”

“You’re too nice.”

“No, Charles, I’m not nice. I’m nosy as fuck.” 

You met Silvia at eight, like it was planned and she was already waiting for you. She had changed out of her Ferrari’s gear for a more casual look. You setted up the microphones, the recorder and the two cameras, one behind your ear and one between both of you so you could get filmed too and once it was all ready, you started the interview. You quickly understood that Silvia, if she was appearing like a witch for most people, was doing it out of protectiveness. She cared a lot about the drivers and their reputation and well being. Like a she-wolf with her wolf cubs. She was passionate about her job and you could see her eyes sparkling when she was talking about it. And soon enough, it was over. You noticed that you had talked more than what you had agreed on and as you were packing everything with her help, she suddenly stopped you. 

“I think I should thank you. It’s the first time I get to talk about my job and reflect on my career with someone so willing to listen and to know more. It was a nice moment, way nicer than what I expected it to be.”

“I had a nice time too. It was very enlightening and I can’t wait to release it.” 

“When will it be?”

“I still have to announce it and promote it, so I guess it will be at the end of the season. After Abu Dhabi. It gives me enough time to record and edit enough episodes to last a while.”

“Well… if you need help to find other guests or if they need someone to testify how good you are at making the interviews… just reach out.”

You opened and closed your mouth, not sure of what to say. It was unexpected but it meant a lot to you. 

“Thanks Silvia. For having been such an amazing first guest and for having been willing to trust me.”

When you arrived in your shared room with Charles, he was already fast asleep. You smiled to yourself, changed into your pajamas after a quick run to the bathroom to wash your face and slipped under the blanket. You looked at your boyfriend’s face, frowning in his sleep, and you lightly touched his face making him relax under your fingers. For the first time in a long time, you were feeling at peace with every area of your life. You were feeling fulfilled in your personal life and your professional one was starting to get exciting. 

But you knew that all good things had to come to an end at some point and a part of you was bracing itself for the blow that would make your world crumble. You knew it would happen eventually. You could only hope it would arrive in a very long time. 

Author's note: When I was saying in the previous chapter that updates should be more frequent, I wasn't expecting to be able to write a whole new chapter this soon lmao. But here we are. I hope you liked it.

Don't hesitate to leave a comment or an ask, as well as reblogging and leaving a like. Besides the fact that I absolutely love to read you, it helps a lot for the story to find its audience. I also have a taglist for this story, so if you want to be added so you never miss a chapter, let me know.

If you wanna be part of the taglist, let me know.

Taglist: @itsjustkhaos @thirstylion @cmleitora @charizznorizz @sltwins @boherahpsody @herondalism @roseamongthorns13 @aundercover @snowflakesfluff @fictional-l0v3r @queensassybitchsworld @jehun @reengard @valntynebaby

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[maniculum]

Bestiaryposting Results: Miscellaneous "Worms"

Here is what I intended to be our final Bestiarypost: all the animals from the "worms" section of the Aberdeen Bestiary.

I checked, there's not a big missing portion this time. "Worms" only get two pages.

I put quotation marks around "Worms" here because what medieval writers would call "worms" and what we would call "worms" are not the same. The medieval sense is somewhat preserved in the modern word "vermin", but in other ways it's closer to "bugs". Really, it's broader than either of those terms are for us, because it more or less means "any animals that are very very small."

Anyway, if you don't know what I'm talking about, answers can be found at https://maniculum.tumblr.com/bestiaryposting.

If you want to see the entry people are working from, it's here:

And if you want to see the entry for the next (and, unless something goes awry, final) week of Bestiaryposting, it's here:

Now, art below the cut:

@silverhart-makes-art (link to post here) decided to make these into wyrms, with a "y", and I think they came out well. The Lenggalgak and Shmigwanog are probably the coolest-looking, but I also like the Phlerotger. Silverhart calls it a "horrible little creature" but I think it's charming how... shameless it looks about that. More details on all of these in the linked post.

@wendievergreen (link to post here) has drawn two of them in this very nicely stylized artwork here. I like the detail added by including the Lenggalgak's web and some plants for the Kholruntae to eat. I really like the inclusion of evocative bits from the entry as captions. (Also, thank you for including alt text.)

@cheapsweets (link to post here) has done the whole set here. I like the depiction of the Khrezaroth swelling in a pitcher, and the kind of charmingly goofy Phlerotger. Also they pretty clearly have the Logkashgae's number -- which is to be expected, given where this whole project started.

@coolest-capybara decided to go with the theme of "what medieval illustrators might draw when they have no idea what the animal is and decide to get weird with it." I absolutely love all of these, but I think the Khrezaroth is running away with this one. All of them really would fit into the margins of a suitably fancy medieval manuscript. (And I think they might also have clocked the Logkashgae, judging by the face.)

Now, the Aberdeen Bestiary. None of these get illustrations -- they're just brief little blurbs crammed into two pages, so there didn't seem to be any motivation to add pictures.

The section does, however, start with this rather nice inhabited initial:

(This is of course the first letter of "Uermis".)

The entry starts with this helpful introduction:

Here begins the account of worms The worm is a creature which generally springs from flesh, or wood or some other earthly material, but not as the result of intercourse, although occasionally they are hatched from eggs, like the scorpion. There are worms that live in earth or in water, in air, in flesh, in leaves or in wood, or in clothes.

Again they are trying to define "worm", but the fact of the matter is that it's mostly vibes-based. The author suggests that worms are anything formed through spontaneous generation, but then notes that some of them, like scorpions, lay eggs. And, of course, in the Miscellaneous Mammals entry, we learned that mice form through spontaneous generation, but they're not listed with the worms.

Anyway, here are their identities:

Lenggalgak

This is of course the spider, which is apparently called aranea on account of it living on air. Maybe the author didn't know what the web was actually for, and figured its tendency to catch insects was an accident.

Khrezaroth

The worm with many feet that rolls in a ball is the millipede. I haven't seen any swell in pitchers, but I'm sure they could if they wanted.

Phlerotger

The bloodsucker is the leech, naturally. "So called" because the Latin term given by the author is sanguissuga.

Logkashgae

In a bit of a full-circle moment, this is the scorpion. I've written a lot about these already, so we'll just move on.

Burlebroth

The worm that makes silk is the silkworm, surprising nobody, I'm sure. I can't explain the name thing this time, because the Latin name given is bombocis.

Kholruntae

Interestingly, this is the caterpillar. Odd that it is specified not to fly, when in fact it's one of the only ones on this list that does. Just... not until after it metamorphoses.

Shmigwanog

The wood worm is the termite, which makes sense.

Feabladtae

Finally, the worm that sticks to dogs' ears is the tick.

Misc.

There are also several that I intentionally left out this time, because there was even less of them to make into these little entries. Here's the rest for your perusal, however:

The worm found in clothes is called tinea because it gnaws at fabrics, and burrows into them until they are eaten away. For this reason, it is called pertinacious, pertinax, because it works away all the time at the same thing. Worms of the body are the emigramus, the stomach-worm, the ascaride, the coste, the louse, the flea, the lendex, the tarmus, the tick, the usia, the bug. The emigramus is a worm of the head. The stomach-worm, lumbricus, creeps into or lives in the loins, lumbus. Lice, pediculi, are worms of the body which get their name from their feet, pedes; people on whose bodies lice swarm are called lousy, pediculosi. Fleas, pulices, however, are so called because they live mainly on dust, pulvis. The tarmus is a worm found in pork fat... The usia is a worm found in pigs, so called because it burns, urere. For when it bites, the place burns so much that blisters form. The bug, cimex, gets its name from its resemblance to a plant which has the same stench; properly speaking, this worm originates in putrid meat.

There is also this helpful little conclusion:

To repeat, you find the moth in clothes, the caterpillar in vegetables, the termite in wood and the tarmus in pork fat. The worm does not crawl like a snake with visible steps or by the pressure of its scales, because it lacks the firm spine which you find in snakes; but, moving in a straight line, by expanding the contracted parts and contracting the expanded parts of its little body, it unfolds in motion and, impelled in this way, creeps forwards.

So there you have it. Worms.

[alchemist-of-thebes]

Always as it seems to be...?

So this may not be as helpful or applicable to anyone else as it was to me, but I've learned something tonight that's helping me a lot with my writing/editing, and I think it's going to be even more helpful as I practice.

While I've been editing my new story, there were a couple chapters where I found that I used non-committal phrases in my narration far too much. I'm talking right now specifically about phrases like "it seemed to be", "it seemed like", or some such. "Seems", "seemed", "appeared", etc.. I never noticed before how much I'd fallen into using these but once I did notice, boy it drove me bonkers. The egregious chapters/scenes were addressed, and I pressed on with the editing venture.

This "non-committal narration" stuck in my head though, and the more I thought about it the more it got under my skin. I'm sure that there are appropriate times and places for it, but this sort of wishy-washy story telling felt weak and, well, dissatisfying to me. So I went back to my story decided to take a closer look on a much broader scope and, using a search, highlighted every time I'd used the word "Seemed". I'm not going to say how many times it appeared, but I will share that is was mortifyingly excessive.

"Seemed" is such a simple and small word, but it's vague and when used improperly is a smokescreen for details. Looking at the places I've abused it, there are so many opportunities to make the story richer that were completely wasted by this one little word. The narration feels much stronger in many cases simply by changing "seemed to be" to properly assertive phrasing, "it was", "it did", and such. It's good to paint as clear a picture for the reader as possible, anything that should be clear to the characters/narrator should generally be just as clear to the reader.

More interestingly than that, though, is looking at these vague times as questions. If something "seemed to be dangerous", it seems much more fruitful to ask "why does it seem dangerous?", and if this is at all interesting or relevant this answer will replace the old "seemed" phrase.

Of course, "Seemed to be" is still a useful phrase. I don't see any harm in the readers sharing in the uncertainty when something truly is unknown or unknowable, and certainly not when the stakes are very low, but it should be used sparingly. Treating these vague phrases like the questions they are seems to be a good way to strengthen the narrative and enrich the story as well. It'll take some time to fix, and once I'm done snipping away at the "seems" I'll take a good look for other such offensively dull or wishy-washy phrases. I'm curious what kinds of words and phrases other people have caught themselves (or an author) using excessively, or indeed obstinately incorrectly. If anyone who happens to read this has a word or phrase that springs to mind from your own writing (or a favorite story), I'd be very interested to hear about it. It might give me a head start on finding the next part of my writing to hate - and then, most importantly, learn how to fix.

[wc-confessions]

im new to the warriors fandom and i want to make an oc but i dont know where to start ;-;

I'd start with what you'd like to see in a character in general!

Me personally I hate the canon with a firey passion so whenever I make cat ocs I start by asking myself what I'm changing from canon. Like if I want it to be like in canada and they mess with human things I'd be like oh this cat is an engineer who messes with human things. Or if i want a cat with one of my disabilities I'd be like oh this cat has autism or oh this cat has emotional regulation issues. - Admin Cloudnettle

───

like admin cloudnettle said, it's important to get an idea of what you're looking for!

i personally enjoy worldbuilding and playing around with the time period- when does the story take place? is it set in the same area as the books? do these characters have connections with the canon characters or are they from the far future when they've been forgotten, or even so far back that these cats haven't been heard of yet?

but all of those can come later and are definitely some questions you can use in terms of general worldbuilding if you'd like to get into that with your ocs!

but leaning further into just singular ocs, the biggest thing to focus on is general personality! how your character gets along with their clanmates, what their general overview on life is... do they believe in starclan? is their faith strong? shelling out a personality can be a bit more helpful when it finally comes down to designing your character as well because you can incorporate those personality traits into design details and can produce a broader picture for the direction you want to go in!

you can also scrounge together a little pinterest board full of ideas and general aesthetics to help you gather inspiration for how you want your character to be- or even go a step further and create a spotify playlist for songs that you think would fit the idea you're going for!

hope this at least helped a little bit!

-mod ashensky

───

These are already some really good points!

I'd add that if you're feeling overwhelmed then maybe start with bullet pointing ideas you have, whether they're appearance related or personality related (stuff like "blue eyes", "confident", etc). Maybe look at any Warrior Cats characters you like and figure out what about them you like? That way you can determine what traits you like and maybe assign those to the character you're making.

I personally make OCs that have one or more of my own personality traits or habits and just expand on them from there. It's easier for me to do that than just come up with something from nothing.

~ Mod Lichenbark

[salvorai]

AI Content Platform

Ever wondered how a simple idea can transform into a digital masterpiece? Welcome to the world of AI Content Platforms, where your thoughts and concepts take a leap into the future, becoming vibrant, engaging content pieces. It's like watching a magician at work, except here, the magic wand is wielded by Artificial Intelligence. Imagine having the power to turn your brainstorming sessions into detailed articles, captivating blog posts, or even viral social media content, all with the click of a button. It's not just about automation; it's about creation on a whole new level.

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But it's not all about the flash and the bang. The true beauty of these platforms lies in their ability to transform complex ideas into accessible content. Whether you're a marketer looking to engage a broader audience or a writer striving for that perfect turn of phrase, AI content platforms offer a suite of tools designed to elevate your content. They're about making the impossible seem possible, turning the arduous task of content creation into a delightful adventure. So, are you ready to unleash the true potential of your ideas and watch them explode into AI-generated masterpieces?

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What sets this tool apart is its ability to understand the nuances of your language, adapting to your style and voice. Whether you're crafting a blog post, a marketing copy, or even a novel, it's equipped to handle all your content needs. The tool doesn't just generate text; it offers suggestions for improvement, making your writing more engaging and error-free. It's like having a personal editor at your fingertips, ready to polish your content until it shines.

But how does it work? At its core, the all-in-one AI tool leverages advanced algorithms and machine learning techniques to analyze your input and generate content that's not only relevant but also rich in quality. It's a seamless blend of technology and creativity, designed to make your content creation process as smooth and efficient as possible. And the best part? It's constantly learning and evolving, which means it gets better with every use, helping you stay ahead in the game of content creation.

In conclusion, if you're looking to elevate your content to the next level, this all-in-one AI tool is your go-to solution. It's not just about saving time; it's about enhancing the quality of your work, making every piece a masterpiece. So, why settle for ordinary when you can achieve the extraordinary? Embrace the future of content creation and let your ideas explode into life with this revolutionary tool.

[starseedfxofficial]

China’s New Tax Moves: How Traders Can Gain an Edge Hidden Forex Insights: China's Tax Shifts & Market Trends Picture this: You're finally ready to make that big trade. You've got your caffeine fix, your charts ready, and your favorite "lucky socks" on. But then, bam! News out of China hits like realizing you just ordered a size too small online—you're caught off guard. Well, consider this your heads-up, because today we're diving deep into China's latest economic moves, their market impact, and how you can turn this into your advantage. Let's break it down with insights that will help you stay ahead. The Hidden Tax Shift and Its Forex Impact China's Ministry of Finance just threw a bit of a curveball: they announced a reduction in the export tax rebate rate for key products—like refined oil, photovoltaics, and select non-metallic minerals—from 13% to 9% starting in December 2024. Plus, they’re completely cutting the rebate for aluminum, copper, and some chemically modified oils. Why should you care? Because these subtle tax shifts could affect Chinese exporters’ competitiveness globally, and when competitiveness shifts, guess what? Currency flows shift too. From a trader's perspective, this tax change isn't just policy jargon—it's a ripple that could turn into a wave in the Forex market. Fewer rebates mean costlier exports, which could weaken China's economic edge, pressuring the yuan. Savvy traders know this might lead to opportunities in pairs involving CNY, like the USD/CNH. You can thank me later when you catch that trend before everyone else does. PBoC's Cash Splash: A Market Game Changer? While we're still reeling from the tax announcements, the People's Bank of China (PBoC) stepped in with a mind-boggling CNY 981 billion injection through 7-day reverse repos—the largest since early 2020! Let me break that down for you: this isn't just a lot of cash; it's the kind of cash injection that suggests Beijing is very serious about stabilizing things. It's not just about counteracting maturing loans and tax payments. What we're really seeing is an attempt to prevent liquidity issues from spilling over into wider economic chaos. For Forex traders, this injection is the equivalent of a "calm the heck down" signal—meaning any pressure on the yuan might be momentary. The key takeaway? Don't be too quick to short CNY right now—the PBoC’s got its game face on. Alibaba's Bond Rumblings: What’s in It for You? Next up, Alibaba is reportedly considering a USD 5 billion bond offering. The real story here isn't just the bond itself, but what it says about the broader Chinese financial market. Alibaba could be trying to raise USD amid uncertainty in the Chinese economy—which, if true, means they're not alone in feeling the pressure. The dollar needs from major Chinese corporations like Alibaba often correlate with upward demand for USD/CNH, at least in the short term. Think of it as the financial world’s equivalent of buying more lifeboats—a hedge against choppy economic waters. If Alibaba pushes through with this, expect some capital outflows to put pressure on the yuan. Hong Kong's Growth Revision: Small Detail, Big Implications Hong Kong revised its GDP forecast for 2024 to 2.5%, down from the previous range of 2.5-3.0%. It sounds minor, but it's like noticing your trading journal prediction was a little too optimistic—not a disaster, but certainly a call to reassess. The cut reflects the ongoing struggles facing HK’s post-pandemic economy and could signal broader weakness in the region, with spill-over effects for those trading Hong Kong Dollar (HKD) pairs. Hidden Opportunity Alert: Pair this with the latest updates from China's economic recovery and those planning to go long HKD might want to look twice. When the GDP forecast is narrowed, it might just be the nudge to reconsider expectations. Japanese Minister Hints at FX Intervention Meanwhile, Japan's Finance Minister Kato didn't mince words—he mentioned that they’d take "appropriate action" against excessive FX moves, pointing directly at the one-sided, sharp swings we've seen lately. That’s Japanese-central-bank-speak for "watch out for intervention," so if you've been loving the yen’s volatility, maybe brace yourself for some smoother waters. FX intervention is all about sending a clear signal to markets—one the Bank of Japan loves to deliver. If we see any sharp and sudden appreciation or depreciation of JPY, it's a good bet they're stepping in. Think of it as putting a "speed bump" in front of a speeding car���slows it down, but it’s still moving. As a trader, prepare your yen strategy accordingly. The ride might get less bumpy but still worth a thrill. How Can You Trade This? So, what’s the play? With tax rebates tightening and PBoC liquidity injections, we’re seeing a classic push-pull on the yuan. Keep a close eye on export competitiveness metrics and the broader signals from China’s domestic demand health—they’re crucial in deciding if CNY strength can be sustained or not. As for the yen, tread carefully but consider those intervention zones as opportunity spots for scalping. Don’t forget, Forex isn’t about predicting what’s going to happen; it’s about preparing for the most probable scenarios and staying flexible. If you’re itching for more insights or need advanced strategies to navigate these waters, check out our resources over at StarseedFX. With all these developments, you’re gonna need every edge you can get. Stay nimble, stay sharp—and maybe double-check your shoe sizes next time. —————– Image Credits: Cover image at the top is AI-generated   Read the full article

[buckets-and-trees]

OKAY! OKAY OKAY OKAY! I'M TRYING TO KEEP IT TOGETHER, BUT I WAS OVER THE MOON WHEN I SAW YOU POSTED THIS! When you had ever so briefly mentioned to me a while back that you were thinking about a Leshy Steve, I was totally entranced by the idea of what you might possibly weave for the tale...

and

...after I created the challenge, did I have this tiny little hope that maybe just maybe you might write that idea you had possibly in time to be part of this little bit of mischief? Yes, yes I did HOPE for it, but I had no demands or expectation.

And this is just utterly breathtaking! A total monument and gift to all of us who have the love/fascination for nature!

Because can we start with all the rich scene setting you gave us? We HAVE TO start there!

(but I will put it under a cut so as not to spoil anyone/and to save the dashes)

The trees surrounding you seemed to grow out their branches, weaving into thick, green walls closing up. Sunlight, just moments ago filtering through the tree crowns, had disappeared; but the dots of luminescent fireflies flickered on, filling the space with a deceptively warm glow.

I could picture this vividly in my mind, but I also long to visually see this because you painted such a wonderful image! The forest trees sprouting into a fortress of an enclosure, the fireflies! I adore fireflies! They just speak magic, so it added to the thrill... And to start it off with this and then take us back to where the reader's journey began set that mood of mysticism and power of the forest, which was just chef's kiss!

Had you known what awaited, you’d listen to your heart’s anxious patter and run away.

Would I though? Would I run away? 😏 (with how the end goes, honestly, I'd just walk a little faster)

But you were determined. Though your grandma would probably call it simple stubbornness. 

Such a reader insert moment. One hundred percent true. 🤣 And I admire reader for this - for trying to do something when no one else seems to be trying, when no one sees that there might be a way to try! She's fierce-hearted and brave, and I love her for that. Surely part of what Steve see's in her sacrifice and offering.

I was moved by the reader's offerings - the best of what she could possibly gather and give. I was proud of her - especially because it seemed she hadn't told a soul that she was trying to do this, to save them, just... her soul needed her to! And so she was going to try!

And then...

Oh.

THEN YOU GIVE US THIS INDULGENT LESHY FORM OF STEVE!

THE MUCH TALLER AND ALSO BROADER THAN ANY HUMAN MAN'S CHEST SIZE KINK VERSION OF STEVE?

HIS HORNS

HIS BARK SHOULDER AND BARK ON HIS LEG

THE VINES ON HIS FACE, ON HIS CHEST

THE HEAT OF HIS TOUCH

I'M SORRY I'M JUST SCREAMING RIGHT NOW, BUT MY BRAIN JUST

AND THE FOLIAGE

YOU WRAPPED HIM UP IN THESE ABSOLUTELY LUSH NATURE ELEMENTS AND MY SOUL ATE IT UP

But I loved that he took her hand to help her up almost immediately - so Steve of him. But then he keep that hold to hold her close, and that's so Leshy/Diety of him. And you employing Steve as a nickname derived from Svyatobor is such an Eva brilliant detail!

“None of that is necessary.” He assured you.  “At least not in that sense,” he murmured, licking his lips. 

Literally all I could do was smirk and grin like a fool. I was so ready for him to have the reader in exactly the sense I know he really wanted.

Now calling her 'little fern?' Absolutely so endearing!

Delicate leaves tilted toward Steve’s legs, brushing against him with the softest of rustles, as if they were purring for him.

This just! This detail is so telling from an author I know loves plants - and speaks to the way the forest must revere him as their deity, too.

Then you registered the warmth of Steve’s fingers still holding your chin. His thumb angled to rub along your lower lip. You were in the hands of a powerful deity. Steve may have appeared nonthreatening, but he was still an ancient entity demanding a sacrifice.  No riches equal a heartbeat. You had a heartbeat.

fka;ogfoj'apdj

GORGEOUS MOMENT

And also an intense moment, and intimate moment. And I just love that line that he says and that you get to repeat: no riches equal a heartbeat. I. love. it. I love it.

And I love that he doesn't let her think he's going to kill her once he realizes that's where her mind has leapt, he quells that fear. And then...oh, poor reader, STILL, the confusion of "you want a friend?"

Steve’s breath teased your skin as he leaned down, trailing his lips along your jaw.  “I want intimacy. Passion. And devotion.”

And that was about the last coherent thought I had.

Because then his unrestrained revelation of his desires? Melted. Totally melted. The vines? The are you willing to sacrifice?

EVA!

Then that heart of the forest was even more impossibly beautiful! With the lilies of the valley and blue bells and silver birches. And that setting for their intimacy which is just.... intense and a little dirty but also totally beautiful. WHY AM I NOT OFFERING UP SACRIFICES TO A LESHY IN THE FOREST?

I was so gratified at him changing/turning her through their copulation, too. Just. Yes. Everything about this was yes, and nothing hurt, except for it ending.

I immediately told you this was breathtaking when I finished this, and I meant it. Totally stunning, Eva, and I'm so honored to have this in my birthday collection. 🩵

Entwined

Leshy!Steve Rogers x female reader; Steve Rogers x female reader

summary: You enter the woods hoping to gain the ancient being's mercy and help. However, you hadn't expected how truly powerful he is, or what price he will ask of you.

*Leshy is a deity of the forests in Slavic mythology. He rules over the forest and hunting.

warnings: sort of monsterfucking (though Leshy isn't exactly a monster, more of an eldritch entity); consensual, with a slight dash of dub-con; tiny bit of manipulation; smut;

Author's Note: This is a story written for Aspen's (@buckets-and-trees) Enchanted Birthday Festival. Early happy birthday, love! ❤️ I've been toying with the idea of Leshy!Steve for a bit and Aspen's challenge was the perfect opportunity to work on it. Especially since she loves forests, plants and all things wild nature 💚 Also a special shout out to @vonalyn who listened to me ramble about the hotness of Leshy!Steve when the idea first came to mind!

“Are you willing to sacrifice?”

His voice echoed with the power of a booming wind, rattling your bones and swishing up your skirts.

The trees surrounding you seemed to grow out their branches, weaving into thick, green walls closing up. Sunlight, just moments ago filtering through the tree crowns, had disappeared; but the dots of luminescent fireflies flickered on, filling the space with a deceptively warm glow.

You looked around, seeking for a path, or entrance through which you might escape, if you chose to. There was none. Within seconds you found yourself trapped in the depths of the ancient forest, with a being whose mercy you came to beg for. 

When about an hour ago you stepped into the woods, you were bracing yourself for the sense of being watched, perhaps hunted. You haven’t considered how closely in contact with the powers of nature you’d come. 

Your steps never faltered as the soft carpet of juicy grass beneath your feet seemed to grow more resilient the deeper into the woods you went; green straws springing back from being crushed under your shoe. The further you went, however, the dewy emerald grew sparse, shrinking into rich soil scattered with shards of bark, little leaves and pillows of moss.

Rays of sunlight filtered through the branches, casting glowy direction into the sacred altar hidden in the belly of the wilderness. It felt so peaceful, so relaxing, that you’d gladly sink into the shades of green and speckles of gold. 

If not for the pounding of your worried heart, which knew that you were searching for more than reprieve. 

Had you known what awaited, you’d listen to your heart’s anxious patter and run away.

But you were determined. Though your grandma would probably call it simple stubbornness. 

You didn’t enter the woods to forage, nor to roam it to fill your soul with happiness. No, your feet carried you forward to face the greatest of dangers and beg for mercy.

Not only for yourself, but for the village and people who lived in fear, but still refused to abide by the ancient laws. Proud and focused on ways to increase wealth, they forgot there’s more in the world than just gold and war. 

Powers mightier than any army. Beings greater and more dangerous than any king. 

When wolves ripped to shreds one of the lumberjacks, everyone thought it to be a tragic accident. When two other people disappeared in the woods, never returning, others came up with ideas of them running away. Then a mother was seen screaming as wolves dragged her body into the forest. The child that followed, crying after its mum, disappeared. A day later a small fawn started prancing around the garden by the empty now household.

Still, people refused to bow to the entity that could be behind all of this, or at least held the power to end this madness. Or so you hoped. 

Having packed a big wicker basket of offerings - jars of golden honey, cheese wrapped in paper, strings of colorful beads and pearls, folded silk, dried exotic fruit you got from the market - you carried it deep into the woods, to place them on the long forgotten altar where your ancestors paid their respects to the guardian of the forest and nature.

Leshy.

You expected to find the ancient, stone altar, with a deformed statue overgrown with moss. The plan was to lay your offerings there, spend some time bowing down and praying for mercy, then returning to the clueless village.

For a few beats it went like that. The birds still chirped, leaves rustled softly in the wind, your offerings laid motionless on the slab of stone.

Then, suddenly, ivy vines weaved up, covering the stone and your produce in a thick cocoon. The earth rumbled and melted, swallowing the altar whole. 

Startled, you took a shaky step back and lost your balance, falling onto your butt. A split of a second when your gaze looked up at the darkening sky and when you returned it forward, he was already standing in front of you.  

Whenever you thought of Leshy, no particular image came to mind. You always thought the creature to be an entity beyond human imagination. 

He was that, but also… not.

He reminded a human man, but only at first glance. 

Much taller, with shoulders broader than the blacksmith’s (whom you always thought to be the biggest man alive). His complexion was fair, but the veins in his arms were jewel green. His hair and beard seemed cast from various shades of gold, intertwined with russet bronze and chestnut reddish. Delicate, tiny vines crawled up his cheeks and along his forehead; like intricate tattoos. 

From the thick mane of his silky looking hair sprouted majestic antlers. Thick and sturdy, their dark color with filaments of gold shining through. His eyes, when you met them, were a striking shade of blue-green. Rare and iridescent, like ponds bathed in the light of dawn. 

“It’s been a while since a human has come to me.” 

The entity’s voice was deep and low, both dangerous and soft, like a purr of a bear or a jungle cat. 

“Are you Leshy?” You swallowed nervously.

“I’ve been called that, yes.” When he grinned, amused, the filigree vines on his body glowed luminescent. 

“And you are?” He asked, courtly. 

When you whispered your name, he leaned forward, bending slightly and outstretching his hand for you to take. As you slipped your shaky fingers into his palm, you felt the pulsing warmth seep through you. It reminded you of the sun-heated earth beneath bare feet. 

As he helped you stand up, your gaze drifted up his body. You noticed that while most of his skin looked like any human’s flesh, a stripe along his left calf and thigh seemed textured like bark. A combination of moss and vines formed a fitting coverage around his narrow hips; yet you still caught the sight of a green vein slithering down his chiseled abdomen. 

More gold-glowing, floral-like tattoos appeared ingrained into the skin along his ribs. Skin on top of his right shoulder looked to be made of bark, just like on his leg. 

As much as he looked unworldly, you also found him majestic. 

Beautiful, as nature itself.

“Those who know me, call me Steve.” He said, holding your hand in his and not letting you step away. “It's a shortened and funnily deformed version of Svyatobor.” 

Lost in his eerie blue eyes, it took you a longer moment to realize what his name meant. 

Breath hitched in your chest, your pupils widened as you stared up at him. All this time you believed Leshy is a creature brought to life and given a purpose by a god. That’s what all the legends suggested. It didn’t occur to you, it's a deity itself.

A god of the forest.

After a moment of complete stupor, shock gave way to a flash of fear. You bowed your head and started to fall onto your knees, to pay proper respect. However, his hand still holding yours pulled you up.

“None of that is necessary.” He assured you. 

Though when you tipped your head up to look at him, Leshy’s gaze slid down your body in a slow, assessing study. 

“At least not in that sense,” he murmured, licking his lips. 

His eyes flicked back to yours. The stark blue pulsing with more green specks than before; as if his body came to life the same way nature sprung back as the snow melted away. 

You felt a rush of heat through your veins at the suggestive implication of his words.

“What have you come here for, little fern?” 

“To beg for mercy for my village.” Once again, you lowered your gaze. “People have been disappearing and being hurt. Swallowed by the forest or its creatures. I plead for no more blood to be spilled.”

Steve’s face betrayed no sign of irritation. For a split of a second you thought you saw a flash of sunlit amusement in his irises, but no mockery followed. He studied you for a long moment, not saying a word.

When he moved, it was slow and nonthreatening. You still startled, though perhaps it was at the loss of contact as his hand gently released your fingers. 

He walked over to where the ground swallowed the altar with your offerings. It was only then that you realized a thick carpet of clovers had filled the space where the table had been. Delicate leaves tilted toward Steve’s legs, brushing against him with the softest of rustles, as if they were purring for him.

“You brought me honey, which you poured out of the goodness of your heart. But don’t you know that our wild bees’ honey is sweeter?” Steve asked, walking barefoot through the small field of clovers back toward you. 

He stepped even closer this time and you felt the unique warmth radiating from him. A little stifling, like the humidity of the forest soaked in rain that was evaporating in the high summer sun.

It was making you dizzy in a very pleasant way.

“You gave me expensive fabrics, but nothing feels as soft and luxurious as petals of early spring’s flowers.” He circled you, like an animal may circle its prey. “None of your colorful beads shine as bright as drops of dew in the moonlight.” 

“I-” What were you supposed to say? You didn’t have much and what you gave away was a big sacrifice in terms of your day to day survival. 

You also didn’t think Leshy would be pleased, if you brought seasoned meat. He was, after all, a protector of wild animals. That sort of disrespect may have killed you on the spot.

Suddenly, you felt his hand brush along your waist. A light, fleeting touch, but enough to send a jolt down your spine.

“Moreover, you try to barter a single basket for dozens of lives.” Steve stopped in front of you.

“I’m sorry.” You lowered your head in shame, feeling the burning tears gather beneath your eyelids.

He was right and you didn’t think of that when you were packing your basket. It made you feel helpless, that you had nothing else to offer. 

“Don’t be.” Steve tilted your chin up with the pads of his fingertips. His gaze was soft, glinting sincerity.

“You still did more than any other human has for decades. I’m just pointing out that a life can be compared in cost to another life, nothing else. No riches equal a heartbeat.” 

You understood the value, agreed with it completely. But it made the situation look unsolvable. The fate of your village was doomed to go through horrors, since there was no other way to barter for it. 

Then you registered the warmth of Steve’s fingers still holding your chin. His thumb angled to rub along your lower lip. You were in the hands of a powerful deity. Steve may have appeared nonthreatening, but he was still an ancient entity demanding a sacrifice. 

No riches equal a heartbeat. You had a heartbeat. A rapidly fluttering one, at the moment; bouncing against the bars of your ribcage in fear of being ripped from it.

“You mean-” You swallowed a bile rising in your throat. “My life for theirs?”

You wanted to help your village, to help people in general. That need to care and nurture have always been so deeply ingrained in you. But you wanted to live! You wanted to experience feelings and wonders, joys and losses. You weren’t ready to meet the end so soon, so unexpectedly. The two needs - to help and to survive - were clashing in violence. 

Steve’s hand moved from your chin to cup your cheek. Since he was the only comfort available at the moment, you leaned into his touch. A soothing shush spilled from his lips as he caught your panicked gaze and locked it with his. 

“I’m not thirsty for blood, little fern.” He assured you. “I long for company.”

Somehow, looking into his eyes and sinking into the warmth his closeness provided, you felt the fear subsiding. Slowly, still leaving instinctive distrust, but it eased away.

“You want a friend?” You blinked, a little confused. 

Of course you understood what he meant the moment he said it, but a voice of reason wouldn’t accept the fact this beautiful, powerful being wanted to bed you. Out of all the things a deity may demand, fucking an unimpressive mortal like you shouldn’t be on the list. 

Steve laughed at your question, genuinely amused.

Instantly, choirs of birds joined his mirth in a tinkling melody that carried through the forest. 

“No.” Steve shook his head; smile-caused crinkles appeared in the corners of his eyes and the filigree vines along his skin curled. 

“I’ve got friends. You would meet them, if you stayed.” It surprised you, teasing your curiosity about what other beings roamed these forests. 

Your thoughts didn’t stay focused on the matter for long. Not when Steve’s hand slid down the column of your neck, his other arm weaving around your waist and pulling you close to his body. 

Very close. Even through the fabrics of your skirts and corset you felt the hard planes of his muscles against the softness of your body. Your hands landed on his chest, at first in an attempt to brace yourself to perhaps fight him off, but any force to push away dissipated. Instead, your fingertips were tingling. 

Steve’s breath teased your skin as he leaned down, trailing his lips along your jaw. 

“I want intimacy. Passion. And devotion.” He murmured, gripping the back of your neck as his other hand dipped lower to squeeze the flesh of your bottom. 

Abruptly, your whole body tensed and you gasped when something coiled around your ankles. Thin and tickling, possibly an ivy vine. It curled along your legs, reaching upwards. Teasing your skin with a brush of leaves and forcing your legs slightly apart.

Steve’s lips grazed the shell of your ear.

“I wish to splay you on the moss and have it soak up your sweet juices as I play with your pretty cunt.” 

You jerked in his embrace, but your core ignited. Heat pooled low in your abdomen, spreading down in a quick wave and filling your folds.  

“I want to stretch you on my cock and have you call me your god not out of fear, but the pleasure I give you.” The vines that weaved around your legs didn’t reach far up your thighs, but if they had, your wetness would coat the delicate leaves. 

“I want to fill you, until you bloom flowers and berries.” 

Breathing became hard as the images filled your head; though you doubted it was a trick of his, more your own imagination eagerly supplying possibilities Steve words enticed. 

When Steve unexpectedly released you and took a step back, you shivered as if you were dropped into a cold cave. Deprived of light and warmth.

He appeared more inhuman as he stretched to his full height and loomed over you. 

“Are you willing to sacrifice?” 

His voice echoed with the power of a booming wind, rattling your bones and swishing up your skirts.

The trees surrounding you seemed to grow out their branches, weaving into thick, green walls closing up. Sunlight, just moments ago filtering through the tree crowns, had disappeared; but the dots of luminescent fireflies flickered on, filling the space with a deceptively warm glow.

Shaken from the daze Steve’s proximity and dirty words have caused, you faced the deal he was proposing with a clearer mind. 

You’d be bound to the forest as long as Steve wanted to keep you, having to abandon your human life and plans. But you would be alive. And so would the villagers, some of whom were your friends. 

You chanced one more look at the wall of branches and vines, briefly wondering if he’d let you go had you refused. Probably. But it was uncertain what awaited your village, or any other, if you backed out. 

Taking a deep breath, you turned back to Steve. You gripped the fabric of your skirt to cover the nervous shaking of your fingers. 

“Yes,” the word rolled out on your tongue like a faint whisper, but he heard it. 

His eyes shimmered with tempting joy, like the reflection of sunlight on the rippling sheet of a lake. In a blink of an eye he was right in front of you, his hands on your hips.   

“I’ll be good to you, my little fern.” Tip of his nose nudged along yours, warm breath softening your lips into compliance. 

When he kissed you, it felt as if berries burst on your tongue, filling your mouth with sweet flavor. 

Your hands traveled up his arms, clutching his shoulders. The one covered in bark provided a new, unique sensation. It grazed your fingertips, but also felt grounding. He didn’t have to pull you closer, your body turned pliant on its own volition. 

Steve swallowed your gasp, gripping your hips tighter, as thick vines of ivy rapidly wound around you. They covered you whole, like they had that stone altar before. It felt scary and suffocating, but as soon as the cocoon of greenery swallowed your forms fully it burst apart; leaves scattered around in a fountain. 

You broke the kiss, tipping your head away and looking around. You were no longer in the same spot. You were in no recognizable place, to be exact. 

If you could find a name for it, the heart of the forest would be it. 

Light green grass spread around in a thick carpet, with patterns of bluebells and lilies of the valley. Graceful, tall birches circled the place, their silvery leaves catching chunks of sun rays. By a spot where wild rose bushes weaved an intricate arch stood a big bed. Easily high at hip height, woven tightly of green moss and periwinkles.

Steve didn’t give you much time to admire. With a firm push of his hand he tilted your head back towards him. Kept cupping your cheek as he kissed you again, more urgently this time. Demanding. 

He released you to tug on your clothes, doing a swift job with layers of your skirts, but grumbling a bit when trying to untie your corset. 

“Won’t need that anymore here, little fern,” he purred as your breasts spilled out. 

Then he was picking you up, big hands gripping the back of your thighs and hoisting you easily. He sat on the bed, slowly easing you down until you were standing between his spread legs. 

It was only then that you realized the coverage around his hips was gone, leaving him exposed in all his glory. 

You couldn’t help peeking down. Your pussy clenched around nothing as you stared at the impressive size of him. Your mouth filled with the aftertaste of berries and your own saliva as his cock twitched upwards.

Steve’s hands roamed over your body, exploring your curves and lines with utmost fascination. He didn’t hesitate leaning forward to capture a stiff nipple into his mouth, sucking eagerly. His antlers gave you a scare as they brushed so close to your skin, but not once did his movement cause you pain. 

Feeling a little bolder, you slipped one of your hands between the roots of his antlers and into his hair. They felt soft and silky. Your other hand gripped the top of his shoulder; the one where bark printed into your palm in a sensation you were finding more and more pleasant. 

As Steve pulled back slightly, you slipped your fingers from his hair and across his face, mapping out contours and scratching through his beard. He gripped one of your legs under your knee and pulled it up, placing your foot on the bed and spreading you obscenely. His eyes darkened, something wolfish glinting in them as his gaze settled on your puffed, wet folds.

“Show me how you touch yourself,” he demanded in a raspy voice. 

The hand on your calf kept caressing and squeezing your flesh, while his other fisted his cock as your fingers dipped between your thighs. 

None of your lovers ever expressed desire to see you pleasure yourself, but Steve’s gaze was so heated you didn’t feel shy. Quite the opposite, somehow it felt so easy and natural; even more arousing as Steve licked his lips in unmasked hunger.

“Let me taste you. I bet you’re sweeter and richer than any honey.” 

You moaned, pushing two fingers inside and pumping them in and out a few times. When you brought your glistening digits to his lips, Steve licked them in a broad stroke of his tongue then took them into his mouth. His greedy sucking had your clit pulsing wildly.

“Delicious,” he hummed in delight, “and so ready for me, aren’t you?” 

Swiftly, he grabbed your hips and pulled you over his lap. Your gasp at the sudden movement and the feeling of his cock against your inner thigh combined with Steve’s loud groan of pleasure, when you gripped his antlers to steady yourself.

“That’s it. Keep touching them.” He urged you on as he slid you down his shaft. “It’s as if you were gripping my cock.”

“Nghh!” You keened, tightening your desperate hold on the antlers as your walls stretched around Steve’s girth. 

“Too big!” You whined, yet your hips followed the command of Steve’s hands as he guided you down. 

“Shh, my little fern. Take it. I know you can.” He was mercilessly forcing you down, moaning as your tight, hot walls enveloped him. “All your sweet holes will learn to take all of me.”

By the time he was buried to the root, you were shaking in pleasure. Your cheek was pressed to Steve’s, your breath coming out in jagged, hot puffs. Where your breasts were squished into the hard planes of Steve’s chest, it felt as if the filigree vines pulsing beneath his skin moved to tease your nipples. Steve’s hands were splayed on your hips, holding you in place as he savored the feel of your pussy around him. 

After a moment, he began rocking up into you and a few heartbeats later started bouncing you up and down his length. Soon your whimpers stretched into moans. Despite feeling boneless in his powerful hold, you also felt a surge of need to take from him as much as he was taking from your pliant body. 

You held Steve’s gaze as you straightened your back and started riding him; your fingers squeezing his antlers. 

When your climax hit, it was intense and unworldly. 

The first burst of it felt like falling into a cool mountain streak, only for the next tremors to fill you with heat and glow. Your head spinned and your moans and cries intertwined with small gasps of laughter. It was everything at once! Running with the wolves, picking fresh raspberries, twirling around in summer rain. 

And when Steve followed soon after, cumming with a loud roar, each spurt of his seed seemed to immerse you in hot springs. 

It was a rush of sensations; overwhelming, but addictive. 

When you met Steve’s gaze - both of you breathing heavily and still rocking into the continuous rhythm of aftershocks - you had no idea your irises bore first specks of inhuman green. All you knew was that you wanted more.

And so you demanded it.

Steve’s grin at your responsiveness was near predatory. He pinned you beneath him on the soft mossy pillows, placed your ankles over his shoulders and plunged into you in a hard thrust that had your scream echoing through the woods. 

Soon you’d be bound to him and the forest with every cell of your changing body. 

[alexilulu]

Books I Read In 2024 #3: The Faceless Old Woman Who Secretly Lives In Your Home (A Welcome to Night Vale Novel) (Joseph Fink & Jeffrey Cranor, Harper Perennial, 2020)

Synopsis: A standalone novel set in the same universe as the Welcome to Night Vale podcast, the novel is a second person narrative of the eponymous Faceless Old Woman Who Secretly Lives In Your Home, detailing her life from the 1800s as a scion of a small merchant smuggler to a life of crime across Europe, charting her unlikely life and the circumstances that have caused her to live in your (and everyone else's) home.

I quite like Night Vale, in and of itself. Over the years it's been an off-again on-again enjoyment; I haven't listened to the podcast itself since...2016? 2017? Somewhere around the mayoral race, I think, not out of any particular distaste, but one of those things that happens where you get a new phone and make the swap from iphone to android or vice versa and forget some thing or another. I forgot about a few podcasts, and let it go.

But I own every Night Vale novel, both Welcome to Night Vale and It Devours! are on the shelf next to Faceless Old Woman and were novels I enjoyed greatly when I bought them (how many years ago, now? 2015 and 2017? Christ) and I'm a massive fan of Joseph Fink's Alice Isn't Dead. One of the novels that clings to my head to this day, that i think about all the time.

I think the thing about Night Vale is that it tugs at a fundamental string of American arcana, something the average American would feel absurd naming, which is the absurd nature of the United States. Night Vale takes as its absurdist starting point omnipresent government oversight, the idea of a police fundamentally at odds with the people they are sworn (or not, these days) to protect, and then says 'this is faintly funny, but what if I made it hilarious?'

And it is. It's a comedy horror property that's done quite well for itself, relatively speaking. Night Vale Presents is (as of when this book was published) hosting 14 other podcasts on their network by creators the original Night Vale crew stands behind. That's pretty damn good, to be honest.

I've spent a lot of time talking about the broader strokes of the milieu surrounding it, but not a lot about the book. This is not a statement against the novel, but mostly just me organizing my thoughts.

Faceless Old Woman is only a Night Vale story only in the way it ends.

This is 100% to it's benefit.

The novel leaps back and forth in time; between the more typical setting of the Faceless Old Woman doing the same or similar routine as she has on the show, detailing the strange, grotesque and invasive things she has done to her current victim, while talking to you, directly, about her love for you and why she does it. It's good patter, and the voice in the novels is pitch-perfect, for obvious reasons (I'm fairly certain the audiobook, which I did not listen to, is narrated by Mara Wilson, who is phenomenal), but the meat of it is the recounting of her life to you, the reader.

The prose is sharp in a way that is absolutely honed by years of scriptwriting on both of their parts. This book clocks in at 267-ish pages and I fairly flew through it, both out of a desire to see the ending but also the sheer speed with which it moves. Chapters are short, abrupt in the way that you would want a scene to end. I can picture the visual media adaptation of this fairly easily, oftentimes punctuated by long travelogues (indiana jones-style, because I am unimaginative) of movement across Europe that crash back down to the character level quickly.

It's not incisive, in that it's a fairly straightforward book with little to hide from you. It's flourishes are in imagery and savor, thinking about the things that are presented to you and the agony or joy that would accompany them. It's a bit like biting into an orange, or a lemon. Sweet, then that crush of sour that follows to complement it perfectly.

The Night Vale weirdness is not necessarily minimal, so much as not the focus. The Faceless Old Woman lived a life that passes by such things in a singular pursuit, seeing them and passing them by until they come into abrupt collision with them. The novel is much more about creating the vibes that would accompany a story in the 1800s; romance, loss, revenge, the sweetness of camaraderie and the utter cloying bitterness that accompanies its loss. Finding a way to live and choosing it above all else.

It's a perfectly good novel. I don't know if it will stick with me the way that Alice Isn't Dead did, but it's a great read if you're a fan or just looking for a classical revenge story.

[jiannaeloise]

AMICY

the mystery of what goes on behind the scenes of your social life

It’s comforting to imagine that conspiracies run our world. To think there is some hidden order to things, a superstructure held high over our heads by a shadowy cabal of insiders. Of course, there’s no hidden order—but then again, of course there is. It’s all of us. We’re all insiders, managing an intricate web of relationships, deploying hundreds of unseen gestures and soft power plays, soaking up gossip with all the urgency of counterintelligence. It’s at once mundane, and yet no less chilling than any other conspiracy, because it leaves you questioning the very fabric of reality, wondering what you don’t know.

Ask yourself—how many cover-ups have you taken part in? How many times have you heard something you weren’t supposed to hear, withheld certain details to make your case, deftly changed the subject, or tried to steer someone’s behavior without them knowing? If you can do all that without a second thought, everyone around you must be doing it, too.

Of course, you’d like to think you’ve got a clear view of the broader social landscape, but it’s possible you don’t have a clue. There are so many backstories that people keep to themselves, so many back channels you don’t even know exist. Random clusters of friends might be carrying on parallel conversations in another group text, or meeting up regularly at events you’re not invited to. People know far more about you than you think, holding on to secrets and rumors they use to inform your character but never mention in your presence. Some of your friends are vastly different people when they’re one-on-one with each other, such that both would seem unrecognizable. Even now an unexpected pair of them might be helping each other through a crisis, or carrying on a silent feud, or having a fling that you won’t hear about until years later. There might be a big dramatic event going on that bends the course of our lives, except for certain people left out of the loop, who’ll always have to wonder. And even if everything was open and honest, you’d still have to confront the ever-shifting labyrinth of interconnected relationships and personas and levels of intimacy you could scarcely even begin to fathom.

It’s enough to make you crazy, never knowing if you’re living in an alternate reality being constructed around you. But perhaps there’s some comfort in that uncertainty. After all, cui bono? Who benefits?

For all you know, it might be you. Who knows how many colleagues called in favors to get you an interview or lobbied hard to save your job? How many little crises were happening on your wedding day that were deliberately hidden from your view? Protectors all around you might be sheltering you from looming dangers, so you never have to lose sleep knowing how at risk you really were. Your family might spend hours discussing where your life is going, comparing notes to figure out what you need the most right now. Sometimes your friends will wait until you leave the table before they all start singing your praises, only to change the subject just before you return. It’s not a crazy thought. It happens all the time.

None of us knows the full picture of what’s really going on. All we know for sure is that some mysterious force is working behind the scenes to keep our communities intact and our relationships running—sometimes smoothly, sometimes not. But we all sleep a little better, knowing some sort of conspiracy is afoot. Otherwise we’d be tossing and turning all night, haunted by the notion that we’re all just acting alone.

[tomatograter]

New to the fandom, Could you explain June? 💯 Love and support her. But homestuck 2 doesn't have her and I'm just confused?

June Egbert precedes the concept of homestuck^2! I’ve seen a lot of people be confused about this because they weren’t active on the fandom at the time the epilogues dropped, when reading her as a trans woman got a lot of discussion going and eventually lead to multiple confirmations.

So here’s an attempt at contextualization:

Throughout Homestuck, a few key ideas about Egbert’s identity and motivation to push forward with her hero’s journey are dropped like breadcrumbs. She’s meant to play the default straight-man protagonist. Her defining traits are ridiculously… generic, when compared to how all the other kids present themselves and stick to exaggerated bits. She’s a perfectly normal, regular suburban kid with normal, suburban issues. 

She may not leave her room a whole lot. She may not have a lot of real life friends in the neighborhood. She holds a comical irritation for the concept of birthdays, even though her father is extremely supportive, and is delighted to see his son grow up nice and healthy. There’s no reason for her to be so irrationally upset at cakes and gifts, and that’s what makes the setup funny! June doesn’t even know why she’s annoyed with half of the things that annoy her, what the heck.

But under all that playing around there is a sense that her life is so normal, so blasé, so unexciting and limiting and hollow and fake that she’d give anything to not be herself, even if only for ten minutes. This goes way, way back. It’s why June needs SBURB to happen.

June lives as though her life hasn’t started yet. She’s stuck in the Tutorial stage. I would argue while most kids (and trolls) play SBURB to escape a shitty environment or the end of the world as they know it, June plays for a simpler reason: She needs to escape herself, and she needs to do it before it is too late. 

Being thirteen means crossing the homeric abyss between being a child with no care for the world sporting a generic hand-me-down identity and becoming a Teen (capital T) who needs to figure out how to cope with atrocious bodily changes while building the adult they’re meant to be AND deciding what the fuck they want out of life, and how they’re going to work to get it, forever and ever.

When you’re trans, and you don’t yet know you’re trans (or that this is a thing you’re even ALLOWED to be) the above feels a lot like serving a life sentence for an intangible crime.

You know what you’re supposed to do. You’ve seen it on tv, you’ve heard it from your dad, you know what are the normal trials and tribulations. You know you'll grow a few pimples and stubble and you'll need to learn how to shave, obviously, because it's basically a tradition in your family, and no one is really happy to be a teen. You know at some point you'll find a nice girl and you'll grow a hat out of your skull and then you will have to pay taxes and maybe you will have a baby daughter? You'd like it to be a daughter for no particular reason. And when you get a daughter you're going to name her Casey and she's going to be adorable and this is something you've dedicated a lot of thought to. Maybe its because you thought Nic Cage looked really cool with those long flowing locks in con air, the movie who featured a trans woman as a minor character for a few minutes (and she gets quite a bit of compliments, regardless of how the movie has aged), and he had a really exciting life, but goddamn did he love his daughter. There is no purer love than the bond between a father and his daughter. 

This absolutely has nothing to do with your father and you, or how you hold no excitement for becoming an adult man, or how your father's excitement for you becoming an adult man in your stead feels a little stifling.

But i digress.

June spends her time on SBURB mostly hassling karkat, and readily following the instructions of zany, dangerous, COOL girls that seem to know what they're doing. June lets Terezi lead her to certain death without blinking. June lets Vriska dress her up as soon as opportunity presents itself. June thinks its really funny to trick this troll Who Types Really Oddly into believing she's Rose, and also into believing that she's a very silly girl. You may even say Homestuck employs a few of jokes pertaining to how her name looks like EGG !

June has a ball playing this game until it starts to get shitty. She's never able to mend her relationship with her dad, as he's one of the first causalities. She has to spend a lot of time waiting around with jade on a ship until things get cool and exciting again, but she never stops growing during those three years. Its fine, though, because there's always more things to be done and more people to fight.

Until there aren't, and they make a new earth, and while everyone cheers and claps for the birth of a new planet June realizes all her excuses are over. Her friends begin to grow up. Rose gets married. Jade is living her best life. Dave has a not-boyfriend glued to his hip. Jane has a job. Jake is on TV for some reason. June doesn't want to leave home. June's birthday is around the corner again. Here come all the congratulations for becoming a strong lad for yet another year! Vriska is gone. Terezi is gone. SBURB is over. Wacky hijinks have been swapped for real-ass, boring-ass Regular life. We watch her unsuccessfully chase after the glory of days gone by when Rose presents her the possibility of going back into the game, when things were cool and mattered, or her flimsy decision to settle down with a nice girl she hasn’t really made an effort to know and become a father and be absolutely miserable for four decades as she asserts nothing is real, not anymore, and this is just how it is.

Depersonalization, depression and general apathy towards the world are all pronounced aspects of dysphoria that seem like unrelated incidents for someone who hasn't came out yet. June's trainwreck of a life post-game, specially her feeling of hollowness and chasing after anything that could fill it struck a chord with trans readers who left the epilogues to read HS again and discovered this has always sort of been here. June being a trans woman who doesn't have the proper vocabulary to express she is a trans woman makes a lot of earlier bits from the comic click into place, now in a broader context. We settled in the name "June" because it's what she imagines Vriska is calling her at some point, amid laughs, but even that was discussed for a lengthy period last year. What would she want to be called, what are possible tags for this, etc. But it was mostly for fun and games, because the prospect of the protagonist of a 10 year old beloved cult series being ACTUALLY confirmed as a trans woman just wasn't something that was done.

Until word got around to Andrew Hussie and he was reportedly so pleased with this interpretation of events he’d be making references to it, and some time later, a box of toblerones was left in a cave as a gift for fans to find. The first person to find a toblerone thought it would be funny to dedicate it to June, because now she was an ongoing reference that was fun to make. Instead of it ending there, Hussie logs on twitter for the first time in a long while to say 'Oh yeah, i'll make it happen' and that's when the whole thing exploded. I have a post detailing this made a year ago (with pictures!) so i won't keep you here.

In the year since, June has been vaguely alluded to in Pesterquest (in jade's end card, she's having her nails painted by rose.) Has been widely adopted by the community, those making their own fanventures and continuations, and the team behind Homestuck^2. In every way that matters, she's already thriving within the community that brought her to light a year ago. But her coming out in canon is something that will take time and a proper narrative arc to happen, one that is still being set up. We know it'll come eventually, the only question is “how”.

Not that the wind waits for anyone.

[grandquest]

Okay! So this might get a little wordy, stick with me here

Friede and orla canonically grew up in kanto, I personally think the specific area is rural pewter city.

Orla:

28 y/o 5’7 bisexual demigirl

-Orlas father owns the bike shop in goldenrod city, originally in cerulean city, and would travel between pewter and cerulean every day he worked.

-Her mother is from hoenn and kept around her old partner, an aggron, to play with and protect orla. she has a fondness for steel types because of this Pokemon.

-Orla didn’t give too much thought to becoming a trainer for a while, she was a friend to all the kids and pokemon in pewter city and acted as an older sister to them, never really feeling the need to go out and do battles. She got around on aggron, by foot, or by bike.

-Engineering came to her naturally, she helped out a lot at the bike shop and liked to tinker with all her mechanical belongings before the shop got relocated.

-At about the same time dads bike shop relocated, mom had to move back to slateport city in hoenn, and she took orla along with.

-Metagross, then beldum, was found strongly magnetized to some scrap metal in a junkyard, she removed the scraps and it followed her around for a while before she decided to catch it.

-Metagross is orlas primary pokemon.

-Elekid, her only other pokemon, is young and inexperienced in battle.

-Closer to the start of the series, elekid was recieved as an egg from a daycare couple to repay her for a machine tune-up.

-Elekid is generally very well mannered and likes to play with metagross when he’s not helping out with repairs.

Friede:

28 y/o 5’9 bisexual trans man

Most of my original headcanons for friede were cooked up at the beginning of the series, so those headcanons now work much better as an AU. What I think abt friede as of now goes as follows:

-Both parents are researchers, he directly inherited a thirst for new information from his folks but is much more adventurous than they prepared for.

-For a good while, Friede was quite weak and smaller than the other kids. He struggles a bit with a lack of stamina, yet he refuses to sit still for extended periods. Apparently, adventure waits for nothing, not even physical unwellness.

-His first Pokemon, charizard(then charmander) was recieved at a young age from his parents, who had ties to professors who train starter pokemon.

-I do think friede has other pokemon at his disposal but what exactly, I’m not sure…. I just get the feeling.

-his personal website with his theses and reports is very inactive because he refuses to share too many pictures of himself or details abt his personal life. If you didn’t know him personally you likely wouldn’t know he travels the world in a flying boat with his group of queer besties.

Mollie:

26 y/o 5’3 lesbian

-Self explanatory and probably canon but yeah she’s part of the joy family. Both parents are pokemon doctors but one is the typical nurse joy we’re familiar with.

-while her hair is much lighter due to cosmetic lightening, the natural texture of her hair cannot hold a curl like other joys, she’s more kiki than bouba tbh.

-Mollie’s parents sheltered her, a lot of her childhood was spent studying and practicing until she was made to work at the center. In their eyes, there was no time to waste if pokemon needed help; for mollie, there was no time to waste if she could be outside and covering a broader area instead of waiting for a trainer to show up at their pokecenter.

-as for where mollie was raised, I don’t have anything set in stone. Given that she uses a chansey, I’ve always figured it was either kanto, johto, hoenn, or sinnoh, but if we were to whittle this down further I don’t think they’d imply she’s from kanto or hoenn if there were other characters with history there.

-Mollie is very deeply devoted to all the RVTs, but she trusts orla more than anyone else. When orla let liko have her room on the brave olivine, she and mollie shared the latter’s bed. The two will brew coffees for each other and memorized just how they each like it, they’re very sweet and loving with each other.

-chansey has been with mollie for essentially her whole life, she was originally caught by mollie’s parents, but refused to stay with them by the time mollie left work at the pokecenter.

-Being an older sibling figure is second nature to mollie, she took care of her younger cousins back home but now that there’s younger crew members on the brave olivine, she gets to be an older sister to liko, roy, and dot; they tend to confide in her if given the chance.

Murdock:

45 y/o 6’1 gay man

-he is 9 years older than Blanca

-I tend to flip-flop on this quite a bit but I think he and Blanca are alolan, with Murdock traveling out of the region soon after making a name for himself as a chef and baker.

-of all regions, Murdock spends the most time in galar, he and Mitchell were friends for a very long time before opening the café and having an on-again off-again relationship that ended in the messy split we saw in the show(lol).

-everyone in murdock’s family uses dog-like pokemon, he and Blanca use their rockruff and lycanroc, who happen to be biological siblings as well. Rockruff is very young and was only recently caught by murdock.

-murdock’s first few dishes and sweets he mastered were traditional alolan foods, he loved spoiling his little sister and would make malasadas for her at any given moment

-when he first found out he’d be an uncle, he FLIPPED OUT. In a good way. Murdock adores his sister and while it definitely would’ve been hard watching her grow up so fast, he was happy for Blanca and her partner and excited to meet his niece. He bought, like, everything on their registry.

-quaxwell and tinkatink are murdock’s favorite Pokemon to observe on the ship, they remind him of himself and Blanca.

Ludlow:

70+ y/o 5’0(usually) old man

-no one can sus him out. General consensus is that he’s just an old fisherman from olivine city, but no one’s totally sure what his relation to friede is, what pokemon he uses, or his personal life before the RVTs.

-He’s the kinda old man to say he used to break a lot of hearts in his youth, and he did! Once upon a time he was a handsome young bachelor with the most extreme case of sleeper build.

-definitely indulges in a little weed from time to time, either to relax or sleep or reduce aging pains, the other adults on the ship know this and attribute his way of speaking in proverbs 90% of the time to it.

Hmmmmm pokemon horizons headcanons

[bearificationtransformations]

Becoming a Mass Monster

“Dear Daniel,

Are you looking to get huge? To dominate in the weight room and on stage? To get freakishly big? Of course are! Even since your early days lifting at Eagle Gym, you’ve always dreamed at stepping on stage as a total mass monster. We know you’re hesitant to take on the extreme steroid cycles and growth hormone required to pack on that kind of insane size.   Well, Your friends at Énorme have created the perfect lean mass gainer that’ll add more size and strength than you could imagine.”

That’s how the email began. At first, Daniel figured it was just another new supplement company looking to find representatives, but the little details about his life startled him. How did they know he had an itch to get seriously big? How did they know where he got his start lifting?  Something about the email unsettled him, but it also intrigued him. 

Since he was, afterall, a middle-weight bodybuilder looking to get big, so to speak, in the fitness industry, this  didn’t seem like a bad deal at all. A new supplement for lean mass? He was on board with the idea. 

Daniel Hernandez, with movie star good looks and in fantastic shape, had high hopes of getting attention in the fitness world. A recent set of professional pics had just been sent around to a supplement ad agency only hours ago, but this was the first “bite” he had gotten. He wrote back and said he was interested.  

A few minutes after he shot off an email expressing interest he got a reply:

“Thanks Daniel, 

We’re very happy you’re going to try out product. Just take some before and after photos, and I’m sure the results will speak for themselves! No need to get professional pictures done. Just send us the email with the updated shots and we’ll send you the money.  Your shipment is in the mail and will be sent to: 142 Chestnut Ave, Los Angeles, CA. 90042 USA.

Happy lifting and massive gains, 

The Énorme team”

How did they know his address? This was a bit freaky. Unless his publicist had shared it with them? That must have been the case. Odd, because he didn’t think publicists would share addresses like that, but maybe it was to help him get free samples. 

Only two days later a small package arrived addressed to him from Énorme. Inside was two small vials that simply said “Lean Mass gainer”. 

At first Daniel thought it was a joke. No way was this stuff real.  He hadn’t spoken to his publicist about it, but something about the packaging, its simplicity, the professionalism of how it was put together and the instructions convinced him otherwise. He was intrigued, and the more he looked at the packaging, the more he read the label, the more intrigued he became. After a few days he felt compelled to try the stuff. 

Daniel, following the instructions, downed the first vial. What harm could it do? He treated it like a preworkout and went to the gym. He lifted with so much energy, with a newfound vigor and strength that surprised him. He looked so pumped in the mirror.  His tank top even felt more snug than usual.

As the day went on Daniel swore he could feel his muscles growing. It was like the gym pump never subsided, but kept going. His arms and shoulders were looking bigger and more jacked than ever. Daniel knew his way around anabolics, but he never had heard of anything that worked like this. As he stared at his reflection in the bathroom at home he knew he was bigger. He looked bigger for sure, and his beard was coming in fast. Daniel showered put on a clean shirt and it felt tighter than normal. How was that possible? As the evening went on he continued to feel like his body was gaining more and more muscle mass.

Daniel stepped on the scale that evening. There was no denying now that he had grown. Instead of normal 210 pounds, Daniel was now pushing 240. He was so into this growth he got a boner from just looking at the numbers. Fucking hell, he had actually gained 30 pounds of solid muscle in a matter of hours. He jacked off at his own reflection, seeing his bigger arms flex with each pump. Fuck it felt so good to be big.

Daniel was horned up all night. He kept feeling up his bigger pecs and thicker arms and got worked up all over again. His chest hair, which he usually kept short, was growing in, and his beard was getting longer quickly. Fuck, he was getting hairier. All this testosterone was overloading his system. Even his dick felt fatter in his hands. Daniel slept like a rock after jerking off for the third time in bed. The

The next morning he moved quickly to head to the gym again. He cleaned up all the used up socks around his bed and got dressed. He was bigger and his shirts were tighter. He had a full beard. For the first time in his life he had grown out a full beard. He wore one of his big tank tops only to find it fit him well, hugging his increasingly hairy pecs. Fuck, He looked even bigger. After jerking off quickly Daniel went to the gym.

Fuck he was big. He looked like a pro bodybuilder. The scale at the gym confirmed it. 260 pounds. He was one of the big boys now. Forget fitness magazines, Daniel wanted to be on the cover of FLEX magazine, or on stage at Mr. Olympia. He looked practically stage ready. 50 pounds of lean muscle mass had piled on without seemingly a single pound of fat. If anything, he looked even more defined.

It was hard to concentrate at the gym, he was so horned up. So obsessed with his new size. His strength was way up. Benching 405 was no problem now. He was probably the most jacked, and the strongest dude in his gym.

And he was nearly the size of a real mass monster now. Goddamn he loved this. He loved ever second of it. He was getting boned up at the gym just seeing his own muscles flex and press.

His libido continued running at this extreme high.The growth may have run its course but his testerone seemed to be supercharged. A super horned up 260 pound bodybuilder. Goddamn that wasn’t such a bad arrangement, not at all.

Days went by, and his libido didn’t repent. He had to jack off four or five times a day to keep himself in check. He needed new shirts to fit his broader, beefier muscular frame. Friends at the gym were shocked by his sudden growth. He kept jerking off in the mirror, loving his size, feeling his huge muscles up with his hands as he stroked his fat heavy cock. Goddamn, had that grown too? It felt thicker and maybe even longer, but it was hard to tell.

But Daniel wanted more still. He dreamed of more mass piling on to his frame again. That wave of growth had been such a high, he still hadn’t come down from it. Daniel had to keep trimming his beard and trimming back the chest hair every day. It was growing in fast and thick. He was a beast. It had to be his hyped up test levels.

And that second vial. It sat there on his nightstand, tempting him. He wanted more, he fucking loved being huge, and what a better way to get noticed than to be an absolute mass monster? This was his ticket, it would make his dreams of true muscle freakdom come true. He could be inhumanly massive. Inhumanly strong. Damn, had he always wanted to be that huge? Wasn’t he big enough? Nahh, he wanted more. Whatever voice of his that envisioned him at 260 forever was getting drowned out by the desire for more. Lots more.

So four days after his first transformation into a heavyweight bodybuilder, Daniel decided to make the plunge. Would it bring him another 50 pounds of pure muscle mass? Fuck, he’d be over 300 pounds if it did. Just the idea turned him on so much.

When did he get so horny thinking about muscle mass like this? Was this the side effect of stuff he took? Even other men’s muscles got him worked up now. Fuck, was he gay? Not that he had anything against gay guys, but he didn’t used to get a boner looking at other jacked guys. Now he was into it. Totally into it.

Fuck, maybe he was bi?

Daniel shrugged at the idea. Muscle mass was so fucking hot, who cares. He just wanted more. He wanted to get so huge that he wouldn’t be able to fit into any of his clothes. He wanted to outgrow the fucking doorway.

After hitting the gym that morning, Daniel came back home and without jesistaying, just downed that second vial. A warmth spread over his entire body like he hadn’t felt before. Fuck yeah, it was starting to work.

Daniel could actually see his muscles grow minute by minute, he stood there with the biggest boner of his life, flexing, posing, jerking off.. watching himself steadily grow larger and larger. It was intoxicating, insanely hot. He stepped on the scale just 30 minutes after taking the potion to find his weight had climbed to 280 pounds. He jerked off on the scale looking at those numbers and looking at the mass monster in the mirror in front of him. Jizz flung everywhere in the bathroom.

This was the best experience in his whole life, the best thing he had ever felt. Better than sex, better than drugs. Growth was the hottest thing he’d ever experience. He was so indebted to this company, what was their name? God he would rep them in anything they did now. He owed everything to them now.

God he was getting so huge. So enormous. Becoming the mass monster he always dreamed of being.

The mass kept piling on, faster than before. He walked around his apartment, noticing how his arms had to swing out further to move around his massive blown up lats. His saunter was more exaggerated as his quads had grown thicker and were now pressing against each other. His footfalls were heavy, deliberate. They seemed to shake the walls a little. He was getting hard, his fat dick slapping heavily against his massive thighs. He loved this. Daniel made his way back to the bathroom to examine the changes further. His triceps hit the doorframe as he walked into the bathroom.

How big was he going to get? He looked into the mirror and was shocked to see his size. Looking down he could barely see passed his pumped up pecs, which now was getting a thick coat of fur on them. He sauntered back to the scale. 304... fuck no wonder his arms were flaired out to his sides like that, no wonder his footsteps were so heavy. Goddamn he had made it. He had grown to muscle freak status.

And he was still growing. Steadily growing. It wasn’t noticeable with the passing seconds, but it was event he was still getting bigger with the passing minutes. Lats pushing out wider, shoulders growing more and more broad, pecs blowing up, his arms packing on more mass. He tested the doorway to see if he could clear it at his shoulders now. He still had tiny bit off space to clear the doorway at his shoulders, but not at his arms, which pushed out far from his sides due to their hulking mass. Damn, he really was wider than the doorway now. It was such a rush.

Daniel jerked off furiously again, watching the overblown muscular beast in the mirror flex with each tug on his thick cock. His dick felt heavy and fat in his hands. He was definitely bigger down there now too. No way to deny it now.

He came again just looking at himself. All that freaky mass, that size, that bulk. He was a monster, a gigantic hulking stud. Overblown muscles growing so big they seemed almost impossible. So overgrown.

327 pounds. Fucking hell, that was more than 50 pounds. No wonder this was so much more intense than last time. He began jerking up again, unable to keep his big fat dick down. It had a mind of its own now and it didn’t want to quit.

His beard was getting heavy. Growing higher up on his cheeks. It was getting heavy on his massive chest too. Swirling fur was starting to cover those huge bulging pecs. God he was an animal. A freaky huge muscle bear he thought. Wait, what? A bear? Where did that term come from?

Daniel kept growing over the next few hours. His shoulders finally growing too wide for his door frame. Even sideways, getting through doors in his home would be a little tricky. He was that massive, that thick. All night he had Slowly morphed into a freak of inhuman size. An utter overblown giant in the world of bodybuilding that would put most mass monsters to shame. 360 something pounds of hairy lean muscle. Pure, extreme, mass.

Daniel lost count how many times he blew his loads, he just knew his hefty 9 incher was tired by the end of it, sore from too much use and abuse. His heavy balls were still pumping out more cum, but he could keep up. He passed out that night with cum soaked towels covering every inch of his floor.

Daniel could hardly reconcile with the freak had become. Muscle mass competed for space on his 5’9” frame. He could barely His libido was now barely manageable, his dick was huge, beer-can thick, constantly sporting a chub, and eager to blow. He had to trim his beard back, it had grown enormous since taking the potion. He had to clean up all the hair on his stomach and abs too...at least if he wanted people to see the definition. And he definitely wanted people to see the definition.

Jerking off, Working out, eating, and jerking off more. This was his life now. He was meant to be seen, meant to be stared at. And he did get stared at. Everywhere he went.

Daniel got a new set of professional physique photos taken a few days later. The world of bodybuilding ignited into furious speculation and talk over this new giant, this new 360 pound freak, that was now making his presence known online and on instagram.

Daniel didn’t know how to thank Enorme except to write them back with the new photos attached. He explained to them how much attention he was getting now, how many other offers he was getting from supplement companies... and his deep deep gratitude to their product.

A few weeks later, Daniel got another vial. A hot gay bodybuilder, Jordan, had come over for another hot session of muscle worship when the package arrived. Jordan was just starting to suck off the giant muscle freak when Daniel heard the package come to the front door.

It was from Enorme. A letter of thanks for the photos and a little note. “We wanted to provide you with some more lean mass, in case you’d like to show anyone else how well it works” Daniel look at three more vials with the note “these extra vials are for sharing, that is, if you want to” and a smile crossed his face.

“Hey Jordan” Daniel called out from the hall. “Are you looking to get huge?” Daniel went back to the bedrooms and handed Jordan the vial. “Just drink this”.

[lonestarbattleship]

February 27, 2022 update from the Battleship Texas Foundation

"We had 16 volunteers out at Battleship Texas today for our regular workday! Here's a brief progress report on their various projects.

The Gunnery Office project is nearing the home stretch. The tripod mast leg in the center of the space is now painted green, as well a lot of the detail work is done. The crew is currently working on addressing all the paint "holidays"; the next step will be a coat of red on the deck. This project has progressed really nicely, so much so that we are knocking on wood while writing this post. Just in case.

We've started some early work on clearing out the Flag Bridge for lead abatement. This is a part of the broader Super Structure Repair Project that we were awarded $500,000 in grant funding for last year. The Flag Bridge is where an admiral ("flag officer") would command from on a flagship, like Battleship Texas. The Flag Bridge on Texas has seen little to no maintenance or restoration since 1948, meaning that the first step must be a damage assessment of sorts. This was done in the work of applying for the grant and the space's condition has been thoroughly documented, but now we need to begin removing equipment to protect them during the lead abatement and also assess their condition as individual artifacts. The goal is to restore all of these objects and return them to the space, but their condition is going to inform how much we're able to do.

Work in the CIC continued, mostly still focused on stripping the paint from and repainting the junction boxes and other equipment mounted to the overhead and bulkheads. We neglected to snag a picture of that, but we can confirm that much sweat was shed in spite of the cold.

The team removing the old non-historic telephone cabling is hitting the home stretch, they've got maybe fifteen or twenty frames left before the cables terminate and their work is done. The pile of cut cables is now a good two feet high, and we're not excited to find out how heavy!

As always, you can apply to volunteer at battleshiptexas.org/volunteer."

source

[young-dumb-and-vaccinated]

The Sommelier (Hannigram x Female!Reader) pt. 10

Y/n and Will connect over a story. They put their heads together and come up with some ideas on where to find Chase.

Trigger warnings: sex trafficking, discussions of toxic relationships, codependency

This chaper also contains spoilers for the story Borrasca by CK Walker so if you haven't already read/listened to it and you want to, save this chapter for later.

Charissa was far deeper into astrology than anyone else you knew. No matter how many times she tried to explain it to you, you could never keep all the vocabulary straight. As much as you liked to indulge her pseudo-spiritual special interest, you never considered yourself a believer. 

That was, until you met Will Graham. 

One metaphysical concept was suddenly crystal clear to you; that of the twin flames. At first, you thought it was just a slightly dressier version of soulmates. But soulmates had to be complimentary, not identical. If you jumbled the pieces of your respective broken souls, you’d find that they fit together in a way in which you couldn’t determine where he ended and you began. 

Charissa had warned you of the dangers of a twin flame romance. Both parties had to be mentally and emotionally literate, or else they could develop a toxic codependent relationship. Considering that neither you nor Will were the picture of mental health, you had to tread lightly. Having sex with him was probably just throwing gasoline on the dumpster fire your life was quickly becoming, but an extinguisher was within arm’s reach. You told yourself that if you just held on a little longer, this could be the start of something wonderful. 

However, while pondering all this, you left out the crucial detail that you and Will’s shared self-destructive tendencies didn’t extend to how you treated other people. You were both very nurturing and consistently placed the needs of others over your own. And this dawned on you when you emerged from the bathroom, freshly showered and greeted with the smell of food. 

“Is that my shirt?” Will asked, peering over his glasses at you.

“Oh, yeah.” You tugged at the oversized undershirt he’d slept in the evening prior, which you had snatched from the floor while he was in the shower. “I figured that the dogs would be less intimidated with a stranger in the house if I smelled like you.” 

Will narrowed his eyes, his suspicion eclipsed by a smile. “Sure.” 

You sniffed the air. “What are you making?”

“Reubens.” He lifted the pan slightly to show you two ugly but delicious-smelling sandwiches. 

“At eight in the morning?” You laughed, shoving your hands into your pockets. 

“Do you not want one?” He raised an eyebrow. 

“Oh, I want one.” You put your hands up in surrender. 

Will flipped a sandwich over and it sizzled against the hot pan. “By the way, Jack called. He wants to see both of us at the lab today, given that you’re up for it.” 

“Sure.” You leaned over the counter. “What about?” 

“He wants me to examine the body of the cultist.” He explained. “Thinks maybe you can help. He also wants you to give an official statement. Apparently the national news is starting to pick up on this story.” 

“I won’t have to appear on TV or anything, will I?” You asked. “That would kind of defeat the purpose of me hiding out here.” 

Will slid one of the sandwiches onto a plate. “I don’t think so. He just wants you to tell the record what you know so local police forces know what to look for and so CNN has something to report on.” 

“That’s fair enough, I suppose.” You took a seat at the counter, your mouth watering from the smell. 

“So you know how Kimber and Kyle are siblings?” Will said, placing his plate next to yours. 

You froze and put your sandwich back on the plate. “I know that, how do you know that?” 

Will paused and looked away, shamefully. "I couldn't sleep last night."

"So you listened to the entire story?" Your eyes widened in shock. "The entire, seven-hour-long story?"

"I wanted to know why," Will pulled his chair closer to the counter. "Out of all the literature in the world, last night made you think of Borrasca. So I listened to it."

You took a bite of your sandwich and wiped your face with the back of your hand. "I think it was just because it has to do with sex trafficking."

"But it wasn't sex trafficking until Sheriff Walker took over, was it?" Will said. "Or at least, not according to Jimmy Prescott."

"Shit, you did listen to the whole story." You said through a mouthful of sandwich. You swallowed.

"I think there's something else there." Will hypothesized. "There's something we can take from the story that could lead us to Mulvaney, just like with NXIVM and Handmaid's Tale."

“Okay, but,” You began. “She pretty explicitly referenced both NXIVM and Handmaid’s Tale. I brought up Borrasca on my own.” 

“But you did it for a reason.” Will insisted. “Just humor me, please.” 

You shrugged. “You’re the professional here. By all means, follow whatever path this story takes you down if you think it’s going to get Mulvaney behind bars.” 

Will nodded and reached for a pad of paper. He drew a three circle Venn diagram and assigned a story to each circle. “What do NXIVM, Handmaid’s Tale and Borrasca all have in common?” 

“Sex trafficking.” You said bluntly. 

“Well, yes-” Will shook his head. “But, broader. Think about the how and why.” 

“Uh,” You racked your brain for the how and why. “Dehumanizing women? Turning them into property?” 

“Right.” Will scribbled something that vaguely resembled what you said in the intersection of the three circles.

“They all have a sort of charismatic figurehead.” You continued. “Keith Raniere, Fred Waterford, Jimmy Prescott.” 

“And each of those men had their respective degrees of power and influence.” Will added.

“But Borrasca was relatively self-contained.” You countered. “Drisking was a small little nowhere town. It was out of the way so the corrupt local police and rich families could hide the town’s fucked up secret from the rest of the world.” 

“You’re on to something.” Will said, tapping his pen against the table. “Chase Mulvaney isn’t a Keith Raniere, but he wants to be. He’s Jimmy Prescott.” 

“You think this is a family operation?” You narrowed your eyes. 

“I think he’s operating this cult using family money.” Will began to click the pen rapidly as he processed his thoughts. “And family land.”

“So we're looking for some kind of reform camp." You concluded. "Probably one that targets young women and girls."

"Something religious, too." Will added. "But not like, a convent. He's preaching faith-based salvation so he's definitely not Catholic."

"Definitely either Southern Baptist or Evangelical." You agreed. "Or maybe some sort of strange non-denominational offshoot."

"Like those people who don't like the word religion but advocate for a christian theocracy in the US." Will muttered.

"Yeehawdists." You said under your breath.

Will cracked a small but noticeable smile at your stupid pun.

"I think we might be on to something here." Will said, an optimistic upturn in his voice. He stood up from his seat and shoved the paper in his pocket.

He grabbed your hand. "Come on. If we get to Quantico soon, I'll bet we can nail this guy tonight."

[canmom]

Animation Night 95: Osamu Dezaki

Hello, friends. Been a tough week, apologies Gundam trilogy night kind of collapsed on itself without even showing the third film, but Animation Night is one of the only constants I have so it’s going to keep going.

Usually the tradition is that on numbers ending in -5, I tell a story about the history of a particular animation technique. However, we have actually covered most of the major ones!

So instead, let’s have a look at someone who was very influential on a particular style of animation - the renowned Osamu Dezaki (出﨑 統)...

You hear anything about Dezaki, it’s that he’s wildly influential. While a different Osamu may have established TV anime to begin with, Dezaki gave it a new identity. You’ll often see his name pop up in writing about other anime auteurs, such as Hiroyuki Imaishi (whose works are full of overt allusions to Dezaki, like the end cards in KLK or Kamina’s entire death scene) or Kunihiko Ikuhara. Indeed, he was among the co-founders of Madhouse, and directed most of their work through the 70s.

But let’s try and dig a little deeper...

What are these characteristic Dezaki-isms, apart from those heavily stylised still frames? Perhaps his theatrical approach to staging, or the detailed end cards known as ‘postcard memories’ he popularised with Ashita no Joe. I haven’t been able to find a really good source on his life specifically, but I do have Matteo Watzky’s history of Tokyo Movie Shinsha, and that’s perhaps more useful for the broader framing. This led me to an interview here where Dezaki talked about his own early years.

Dezaki got his start back in the old days of Tezuka’s studio Mushi Productions, one of the first wave of artists - many with no experience in animation - drawn by Tezuka’s charismatic repuation. Watzky says he actually got his start as a series director on a TMS show, The Big X, a robot show in the vein of Tetsujin 28-go. Before long, with the completion of Astro Boy, he would advance from mostly doing key animation to mostly doing direction, and leave Mushi Pro to go freelance.

At this time, there was at this time a division between two major schools of animators - the limited animation school of Mushi Pro and descendents, for whom the quality of a single static illustration was a higher priority than motion, and the Toei Douga school whose ideal was closer to ‘full animation’, and frequently disdained the former group. Let me quote Dezaki’s own words on this, from the above interview:

Dezaki: Mushi Pro was comprised of rental manga artists who had trouble making ends meet once TV was widespread and the rental manga boom had dried up. Lots of those people could illustrate well. The Tōei Dōga folks were different. They were people who went into the industry with the explicit purpose of becoming animators. This was the fundamental difference between the styles of these two groups. The Tōei folks prided themselves on being people who created feature length animated films, whereas the Mushi Pro folks, as you’re well aware, kicked off the trend of limited animation with Astro Boy. In limited animation, due to the severe limitations in budget and framerate, it was focused on expressing the qualities of the illustrations themselves. The quality of those illustrations is what crafted the scenes.

Watzky notes a technical element in this story. Originally, drawings would have to be traced onto animation cels, usually by a tracing department that was majority women. However, the invention of the Xerox machine in the 60s - which famously allowed Disney to create 1001 Dalmations - shook up this structure, unfortunately eliminating the tracing department. It particularly allowed illustrators of the Mushi-Pro school to draw extremely complex and detailed illustrations, opening the door to Dezaki’s ‘picture memories’.

What narrative possibilities did these detailed illustrations, with their rough pencil lines, create? At this time, boys’ manga was seeing a movement called ‘gekiga’ featuring gritty stories and heavily hatched, more realistic drawings, and meanwhile shōjo manga was being transformed by artists like the Year 24 Group. Many gekiga stories were about sports, in the wake of the 1964 Summer Olympics in Tokyo, and in 1968, this movement reached anime with baseball series Star of the Giants at TMS, on which Osamu Dezaki’s older brother Satoshi was a storyboarder. You can read more about that here; for our purposes, let’s just note that as the environment that Osamu would soon establish himself.

Dezaki’s star really rose with Ashita no Joe, working as a freelance director at Mushi Productions, one of the studio’s final works. (He also worked on their last gasp ‘animerama’ trilogy, including Belladonna of Sadness (Animation Night 69), although ‘only’ as a key animator.) This was a sports manga adaptation, very much in the vein of Star of the Giants, but this time focusing on boxing rather than baseball; like many gekiga works, it has a heavy overtone of drama and realism: the young protagonist is poor and soon ends up in prison, where he gets his start as a boxer.

The series, both in manga and anime form, was a massive hit, with some surprising impacts. The death of a major character led fans to stage a funeral:

When the fans of the series saw the death of Rikiishi, there was a special funeral for him.  In March 1970, about 700 people packed the streets dressed in black, wearing black armbands and ribbons with flowers and incense, participated in the funeral.  The event was called for by poet Shūji Terayama.  The service was conducted in a full scale boxing ring watched over by a Buddhist priest.[1]

Even wilder, its hero became a working class icon, and even inspired members of the Japanese Red Army Faction to shout ‘We are Ashita no Joe!’ during the Yodogo Hijacking Incident.

Approximately 20 minutes after takeoff, a young man by the name of Takamaro Tamiya got up from his seat and drew a katana shouting "We are Ashita no Joe!"[3], stating his intent to hijack the plane, and instructed the other hijackers to draw their weapons.

The hijackers ultimately managed to direct the plane to North Korea, after several exchanges of hostages, where they defected and were offered asylum.

Not so long after this, Mushi Pro collapsed under the weight of debt and folded. Dezaki, along with some other former Mushi-Pro artists including Rintaro and Yoshiaki Kawajiri, founded a new studio, still in the TMS orbit: this was Madhouse, and would go on to become one of the most storied studios of the 80s and 90s.

Dezaki became the studio’s main director throughout the 70s, a presence so overbearing that some of the others would actually leave the studio to learn to direct in their own way. His first project there was tennis series Aim for the Ace! (エースをねらえ! Ēsu o Nerae!), adapting a manga by shōjo artist Sumika Yamamoto. Over this period, he developed his iconic stylings: highly abstract backgrounds, compositing elements to create meaningful narrative relations rather than construct a realistic 3D scenes, lens flares and other lighting effects, and camera techniques in the multiplane like depth of field and false colours.

Aim for the Ace! ultimately set the template for the classic Gainax OVA Gunbuster (Animation Night 29), which took elements of its storytelling and projected them into a space opera story.

At Madhouse, Dezaki would work simultaneously on a variety of projects. These would include The Adventures of Gamban about a group of sailor mice which took on some of the gekiga stylings of Ashita no Joe, discussed extensively in that interview. Then there was Nobody’s Child (Ie no Ko) adapting a French novel about an orphan travelling with a group of players. Watzky writes of the latter:

First, it was Dezaki’s first experimentations with 3D animation – or what was called 3D at the time. This claim by the studio’s producers was probably because of the show’s strong designs, animation, and especially its innovative use of the multiplane camera to create a dynamic sense of depth. TMS would go further in 1980, as they used a certain stereoscopic process during the projection of the show’s compilation movie, which appears to have made it the first real 3D anime [Clements and McCarthy, 2015, p.584]. Moreover, Remi appears to clearly have been TMS’ attempt to renew itself and rival Nippon Animation’s World Masterpiece Theater : it followed the exact same yearly format and adapted a classic of children’s literature – in that sense, it might be considered as Dezaki’s attempt to imitate and overcome Takahata’s realism that was developing at the same time in the series.

Another notable series from this period was the Manga Sekai Mukashi Banashi, a collection of ten minute adaptations of folk tales from around the world, directly inspired by an earlier Japanese-focused series Manga Nippon Mukashi Banashi. (Many of the latter have been uploaded by someone called Toadette on her channel.) Both MSMB and MNMB are notable for their much more experimental elements, setting up for the auteur-driven madhouse of the 80s.

Dezaki’s other big direction from this period was, from episode 19 onwards, the adaptation of renowned proto-yuri shōjo manga The Rose of Versailles (a manga highly influential on the Takarazuka Revue, which I discussed briefly a couple of weeks ago on Animation Night 92). This last would also be incredibly influential on Ikuhara’s Utena, not just with its images of women in French courtly uniforms, duelling swords, roses and thorns, but also in the directing style.

I don’t have a detailed account of the production of Rose, but I get the impression that Dezaki worked closely with the mangaka Riyoko Ikeda; also frequently mentioned in the credits is animation director and character designer Shingo Araki (not to be confused with the other Araki!). When Dezaki stepped in as director, it apparently created a notable tonal break in the series, although I’m only going to be able to sample it tonight.

This period also covers Dezaki’s work on Lupin III, but I’m going to save that for a future Animation Night.

Dezaki actually went on to leave Madhouse in 1980, in pursuit of more focused work on series like Ashita no Joe 2, creating a new studio called Annapuru, ending that particular era for the studio. That takes us on to... Space Adventure Cobra, a film and then series that has been compared to such works as Barbarella and Zardoz, and elsewhere termed ‘psychedelic’, so I’m fascinated to see what that means in practice.

This is I think where I’m going to have to stop my story, for the sake of time as much as anything. Tonight’s bill is gonna be...

a sample from Ashita no Joe and Rose of Versailles

the Aim for the Ace! compilation film, which is actually mostly reanimated footage

and Space Adventure Cobra!

We’ll be starting very shortly at our usual place, twitch.tv/canmom, and probably continuing until quite late. Hope to see you there!