#what does market intelligence do

[tbrcresearchreport]

This market intelligence database provides you with a comprehensive overview on the current landscape of legal services industry. The database also includes extensive market data and analysis including market sizing, forecast, business strategy and trends.

[liveblack]

[yanderenightmare]

♡ TW: implied noncon, hyrbid au, hybrid auction, sex trafficking, suicidal ideations, dystopian laws, subjugation

♡ FEM reader

♡ P2: Clientele

It’s scary being a bunny hybrid—especially in a world where all natural prey is bred and raised like livestock, then handpicked and auctioned off to society's apex predators.

But then again, that’s been reality all your life.

If the choice were up to you, you’d stay at the farm and become a womb for breeders. Granted, they’re a bit intense, but rabbit bucks aren’t so bad. You would spend your days cozy in the hay, barefooted and messy-haired, with other fellow herbivores—all the cows, mares, ewes, and does out on the pasture, kept safe and far removed from the belly of the beast—free to live out your days never once having to lay your round eyes on an apex at all. 

But such wasn’t your luck...

Of course, you could have fought. But fighting back is never a good idea—you never know if and when they could decide to send you to the slaughterhouse to make rabbit stew out of you instead— keep your fur to make a coat or carpet. They’ll have better use of you that way than they will with a misbehaving pet, after all.

You think about ending it yourself once you’re sitting in your cage listening to the speaker announce a heifer. That’s how the auction goes—typical farm animals first, other domestic species, then wilder exotic ones. 

In an ill-thought way, you wish you were an exotic breed—something with wings or something they’d have to keep in an aquarium—all in all, something a little harder to come by than being a rodent. Rabbits are cute, but they’re a dime a dozen and are usually sold to those who don’t feel like spending too much—trigger-happy hunter types who’re looking for cheap toys that are easily broken and just as easily replaced.

You swallow thickly. Better yet, you wish you were a bigger badder herbivore that required respect—like an elephant or a rhino. No one would mess with you then. 

But there’s no point in mulling over what you’re not. You’re prey. That’s just how it is.

But who knows? Maybe it won’t be so bad. You’ve seen someone come back to the farm after being auctioned. She’d lost an ear and could no longer speak, but other than that, she was alive and well…

You reconsider killing yourself. Suppose, the only thing keeping you from going through with it is the option of doing it later if and when it actually proves to be as bad as you imagine. You’ve never been good at making such decisions. Must be that prey mentality.

“Up next, we have a mini lop bunny,” the speaker announces, and you feel your cage move, carrying you into the spotlight where you can only see bright red eyes glaring back at you. You immediately look away.

“Known for their long ears, button nose, and round eyes—not to mention their docile nature. As one of the most popular bunny breeds on the market, mini lops are a house pet staple. Believe it or not, they’re also intelligent and social, thriving on attention, whether that be playing games or cuddling—making them the perfect choice to anyone in want of a domestic companion or a pet toy.”

You sniffle—crying and shivering, curling yourself up in a little ball within your cage, making yourself as small as possible, hiding from the predatory glares you feel surrounding you. You’ve only seen a handful of carnivores before—the shepherd dog that herds the flock back home being the biggest one. You’ve heard wolves are twice the size. Maybe you’ll be lucky and have a heart attack right now before any one of them can make their bids.

But then it starts. One number after the other. It feels over in the blink of an eye.

“Sold!” the speaker calls. “To the fine grizzly gentleman on table nine.”

Your eyes peel from being sealed shut, staring intently at your lap where you sit with your knees tucked to your chest—frozen and tense and teetering on passing out from lack of breath. Grizzly? You gulp with a swallowed whimper. Did you hear that right? As in bear? 

“No-” You suddenly understand the point of the chains that had been fixed around your ankles and wrists—given they were the only thing keeping you from thrashing against the bars—breaths hitching as you felt the cage being reeled away to make space for the next one up.

A blanket is thrown over your enclosure, engulfing you in pitch dark before you’re carried off and placed down somewhere. The floor shakes beneath you after a small moment. Something purring underfoot. It feels a little different from the carriage you’re used to but you think you’re being moved.

It’s an hour or so until you feel it come to a halt, at which point your cage is picked up and carried off again, then placed down a few moments later.

You can’t see it, but you can smell it in the air—something dangerous. It must be him. The bear that bought you.

You shield yourself once the drape is lifted and you’re exposed to the light again, squealing, “Please, mister—please don’t eat me. I only eat grass—I wouldn't taste good. And- and—I wouldn’t be very filling anyway–” while trembling underneath the shadow of the apex predator before you.

Your jumping heart was expecting nothing short of instant death, though that’s not what ensued. Instead, there’s an unfamiliar sound. A rumbling. Almost like a growl. It takes a while before you recognize it as laughter. 

“Shh, bunny,” the bear chuckles. “Don’t worry—I have no intention of eating you.”

He crouches down before your cage, though still big enough to tower over it. 

“After all,” he says. “There would be little point in spending so much on something only so bite-sized.”

Your eyes flicker to his paw, where it jingles with something. 

It’s a key.

“How about we get you out of that cage? Those shackles don’t look pleasant. I’ll remove them for you.” He unlocks the gate and swings it open, leaving you room to crawl out.

You don’t know if you should. On the one hand, the cage is keeping you safe, but on the other hand, you doubt you can stay in it forever. And who knows what might happen to his seemingly gracious mood if you refuse him.

“D’you—” It’s a silly question, but you don’t know what else to say. “You promise?”

He makes that sound again. Humored by you, it would seem. “Yes, Bunny, I promise.”

You decide to come out and only feel smaller for it, now exposed. But he keeps his promise, removing your shackles. Your eyes are peeled as he does, watching his claws be so close to you. Thick, long, curled, and black. They would puncture your skin and tear into your meat like it were nothing. You go goosefleshed at the thought.

“They always do these so tight…” he sighs. “Utterly unnecessary for domestic species such as yourself.”

You look up at him at that. He’s done this before, which must mean… “Do you—do you have others?” Or has he had others? Meaning… he doesn’t plan on keeping you around for long. 

It’s funny how that overwhelming urge to run makes you go completely numb.

Meanwhile, he looks at you in silence. Surprised at your observation, perhaps, but then he smiles, fangs and all, and you nearly skitter back into your cage.

“You’re quite astute.” Again, he rumbles with a laugh. Then he stands and walks off, setting your cuffs down on a dresser.

You only now realize you’re in a bedroom, of all places.

“I suppose there’s no use in beating around the bush.” He turns around again and leans back against the drawers, arms folded upon his broad chest as he starts explaining, “I run an entertainment business—a fun house of sorts—you might call it a burrow, as my staff is exclusively made up of bunny rabbits such as yourself.”

A burrow? Like back home? Why would a bear be doing that?

“From now on, you’ll work for me. You’ll be trained in the arts of hospitality and pleasure and cater to a clientele of sophisticated apex predators such as myself.”

Hospitality and pleasure? It almost sounds like he means for carnivores to breed with you… But that would be ridiculous. What would be the point? It’s not as if you can carry other litters but kits anyway.

“You look confused,” he chuckles again. “Allow me to explain.” He pushes himself off the dresser. “Unlike most other mammals, bunnies don’t go into heat. No, instead, bunnies are, in many ways, in a state of permanent mating season—which makes you ideal for my intents and purposes.”

You’re not sure you understand what he’s implying. But you’re growing more certain you don’t like it…

“Moreover, bunnies are any hunter’s natural prey,” he continues while walking back toward you. “Making you the perfect meal to fulfill any customer's appetite.”

He pushes the gate of the cage closed, and it clicks back in place, now locked for good and no longer an option of escape, however poor.

“Not to mention…” He smiles again, and this time, you really wish you had a place to hide. “Bunnies are natural sluts.” He crouches back down, closer now, and curls his black claw up under your chin. “All you want is to be fed and bred all day, then fall sound asleep come night.”

You swallow thickly. Your question answered. 

“And since you seem to be a smart cookie. I suppose there’d be little point in waiting."

He removes his tie.

"So, let’s start your training right away.”

♡ BNHA – Bakugou, Deku, Kirishima, Hawks, Aizawa ♡ JJK – Sukuna, Geto, Naoya, Toji ♡ BLLK – Aiku ♡ DS – Doma ♡ HxH – Chrollo

♡ FEM x M INSERT masterlist ♡ GN x M INSERT masterlist

[movingthisblogcelestialtarot11]

what can indicate someone making a lot of money in their career?

Signs for making 💰

Sag sun—always working multiple jobs, having multiple interests. May be into stocks, trading, engineering, software engineering, marketing. May be into tourism.

Capricorn venus, Capricorn moon—Always working and grinding. Networks easily. But I notice with these placements they may go on to start a side job earlier than getting a full time job. That full time job may come later depending on aspects to the moon. Has a superseding reputation for their determination and professionalism.

For example capricorn moon aspecting saturn has had jobs come in later to their life. May not have had their first job until 20 and onward. They may have been working on a side hustle the entire time.

Jupiter 1h, Jupiter 10h—Success follows these individuals. Career opportunities opened themselves up to them. The more the native works on their mindset they become a manifesting success story! Though don’t be fooled these individuals have had to work on themselves immensely.

Venus asp jupiter—Cash flows in. Though with this placement the native can spend just as easily and create just as much as they lost. (Trine, sextile, conj.)

Venus 5h—makes money off of doing what they love! Most definitely has a side hustle alongside their job.

Aquarius, sun moon, rising—also can be known for their unique side hustles. May be into designing clothes of their own, making music, but there’s something so fleshed out and distinct about their side hustle people are attracted to. May have a blog, make music,

Gemini venus, sun, moon—very multifaceted in their skills. Almost everywhere and nowhere at once with how busy they are. Paired with Leo: they may have a high position in their community and attract a lot of people. It creates the perfect audience for them to sell to! May crochet or sell handmade items!

Leo sun, rising—Has a knack for presenting themselves in any community. Does well with meeting new people to gain new opportunities and experiences. Likable energy. Most likely to own a vlog, or a blog where they can talk and share their stories. Makes money off of being themselves. Very hardworking individuals and determined!

Scorpio rising—Works in silence, keeps their success limited to people who celebrate it. Highly successful, looked up to, and is intelligent with their finances. Knows how to save. They are a fixed sign so once they see something in their mind they will not stop until they manifest success!

Capricorn/saturn dom—knowing how to budget and is successful because of their ability to save money. Not just their job!

Libra moon/rising—May work in a job requiring long travels, be in a position where income is higher. They’re beauty and brains. Some men are construction workers with this placement and make a hell of a lot of money. If moon is in the 12h they’re more likely to travel long distances. Can become models, nurses, doctors.

Cancer 10h, libra moon, libra venus—Can work in home renovation, be a real estate agent. Makes a ton of money off of bringing in clients. If they have aspects to mercury, gemini, exalted mercury, they can talk anyone into buying a home or service.

Libra moon—may also know someone who offers them a higher paying job.

Saturn 3h—Very skilled individuals. Disciplined and goal oriented. Slow and steady wins the race. Takes their time to learn new skills in their career thus making them knowledgeable. Whereas their coworkers tend to gloss over—no these individuals tend to stay late hours and put in more effort. Had a huge chance of being recognized and moving up in their position.

Taurus 2h—Check where venus is placed. If making an aspect to jupiter, moon, the native can become financially successful. (Trine, sextile, conj)

Jupiter 2h—Controversial perspective but a lot of these natives feel as though they have enough money to get by. It just somehow comes in when they need it. Same for sag ruling 2h.

Virgo mercury, virgo 2h—Can be concerned with spending habits and analyze them. May budget a lot and try different methods for saving. Has a critical eye for finances. May make a monthly spreadsheet! Can be into nursing as well.

Venus 10h—If the benefic is positively aspected it’ll bring lots of success to the natives career. Chance to become widely known for their work. Their charm and interpersonal skills leas to success.

Aries sun—Competitive in the career field. Sun is exalted here so these natives truly want to be the best they can be. Authoritative, determined in their work. Grinds a lot. Similar to Capricorn but more extroverted. Passionate, enthusiastic, and it drives them to make great connections in their career.

Sun 6h—Brilliant ideas, determined and structured. Puts in energy to their work. Day to day activities yield long term results. Their determination is what really gets them there. Has a great relationship with their coworkers and bosses if positively aspected.

[cicerfics]

The whole sugar-baby-Bond-being-bad-with-money thing is so delightful to me, because...like...

Listen, this man made it to his mid-to-late 40s while traveling the world and doing all sorts of insane stuff, so I definitely think he knows how to acquire absolutely anything he may need or want. I think he fully understands high finance, particularly as it pertains to stuff that happens on his missions.

But I also think he has zero experience with normal, mundane, everyday, well-regulated household finance.

He understands all about short-selling and elaborate scams that could have an impact on the global stock markets!

But he doesn't really know what a 'normal utility bill' for two adults living in London might look like.

I also think that his baseline is completely thrown off by his global travels and the fact that prices are so variable depending on where you are in the world.

Like...how much does a banana cost? Well, Bond doesn't know, really. It could be next to nothing, or it could be extremely expensive, depending on where he is in the world this week. They could be GIVING bananas away, or there could be a banana shortage due to shipping problems half a world away that are driving the price up! Who can say!

Also, I think Bond is very skilled and experienced at getting things the Illegal (or Illicit) Way, to the point where he doesn't know (or has forgotten) how to do things the Normal Way.

How does one acquire a car? Well, one receives a car from one's quartermaster, of course! Or one steals a car. Or one wins a car in a high-stakes poker game. :)

Cars are always readily available! Any car one might desire!! Bond is so good at getting cars at any given moment!

But how does one go about buying or leasing a car through traditional means...? Bond is not entirely sure, tbh!

I don't know. Something about this concept just tickles me right down to my toes.

This man who is a secret agent, a world-traveler, an experienced and successful espionage operative, who has been everywhere and done everything and is really highly intelligent...does not know how much groceries are supposed to cost or how you're supposed to, like, create a household budget.

He's completely flummoxed by all the paperwork and strange procedures that one must perform in order to do things The Normal Way. He navigates smoothly and flawlessly through the criminal underworld, but he actually understands almost nothing about civilian life. Help him.

[thefrontmanscockwarmer]

Obsession (Part 2)

Player 001 x reader 📖

Masterlist <- Comment on this post to be added to the tag list

Part 1

Tw: stalker!In Ho

Note: (c/n) stand for cat name

5 years had gone by and all In Ho had to go off of were bank statements and transactions to know where you were and if you were still alive. He knew where you lived, your favorite places to eat, to watch movies, and where your favorite shop was. He also knows you have new kitten, but not his name, probably something like (c/n).

No new lover. Nothing since you left. You picked up a job as a (whatever you wanna be), and were living. He knew in his mind the reason you couldn’t move on was because of him and he knew it.

He snuck around and watched you through plain view. Sometimes he sent people to watch you and report back to him. Other times, he’d travel to where you were and stalk you, follow you to the market, ducking you between isles, or on the train, watching you through a crowd of people.

He would stand in front of the cottage you bought on the edge of town, how easy it’d be to take you. You had a bad habit of leaving your windows open. Leaving your life open for all to see. He’s watched you masturbate more times than he can count. He has videos of you throwing your head back as you cum. Your moans quietly seeping through the window. He would jerk off at the same time, cumming in the darkness as he watched you, leaving his cum on the flowers that you planted along the walls of your house.

He hated to admit to himself but he was jerking off to you almost every right, smelling your jacket like a sick man. I am sick he admitted.

So many days and nights he was grabbing onto his bed sheets, pressed up against his shower wall or even in his chair by the big screen, he was cumming for you, with you in mind, he missed you. But he missed your pussy more. Today, he was determined to get it. He approached you as you drank a coffee, typing on your laptop.

“Hello ma’am” he bowed “would you like to hear about your lord and savior Jesus Christ?”

“No, not right n-“ you stopped. “What’re you doing here, In Ho? It’s been 5 years, do you think what I said changed?” You say coldly.

“I know it hasn’t.” He sat before you can continue speaking. “I miss you (y/n). I mean, really fucking miss you. It’s been a lonely 5 years, I miss your smell, your touch, your hair. I miss the way you talk and your smile. I just miss you”

“You know, for a very intelligent man, you’re acting and sounding really fucking stupid.” You scoff rolling your eyes at him. “I mean, you miss me. So what? I miss Young il, but I’m never getting him back, am I?”

“But I’m right here?”

“No… you aren’t young il… I don’t know you”

“And what, you think I lied?!” You nodded. “About what? Huh? What would I possibly lie to you about?”

“Everything, that whole relationship we developed, that sex we had, that love.” You say. “As far as I’m concerned, Young il was an angel and you don’t even exist.”

“But my wallet does?”

“Honestly, you can have your card back.” You shake your head. “I don’t need dirty money”

“It’s clean. It comes from the stocks i invest in. Really (y/n), do you honestly think I’d give you game money?” He looks at you intensely. He wanted to tell you how attracted to you he still was. How his cock still aches for you. How he just wishes to fuck you. It was sitting across from you that he realized he was going to fuck you… whether you liked it or not.

“What do you want?” You sighed finally.

“One date with you. Please.” He stated. He knew deep in his heart that you still wanted him, you yearned for him. He needed you.

“No” you say and stand up.

“Look, one date, to show you who I really am as a person.” He argued. “Who I am outside of those damned games that ruined us. If after that you still decide you hate me, that’ll be all. You can live your life and I can live mine knowing at least I tried to make it better” he pleaded. His eyes pulling at your heart strings as they once did. You saw Young il for a brief moment, before seeing In Ho. You saw the man that was so sweet and gentle.

“Fine. One.” you conceded. You traded numbers and you left. Not knowing that In Ho could now tap your phone, could ruin your whole life. But truly the only thing he wanted to ruin was you.

You made it to your little cottage. It stood on the edge of the city with a small village of cottage farmers surrounding it. Fluffy baby cows and little lambs screamed at you from your neighbors house. Horses neighbors and goats cried. Your life was perfect, this place was perfect. Young il would have loved it… In Ho obviously prefers different style of life. Black and gold, power, money.

“Hi (c/n)” you say as he purred at you. He looped around you as you walked further into your house. You placed your items on your kitchen table. It was already 6. You cooked some dinner and watched an American drama you found on Netflix. Laughing along with the characters.

In Ho made it to his own home. The black and gold now insulted his eyes, it had ever since he saw the disgust on your face while you spoke angry and heartbroken. He sat at his computer, plugging in his phone. He stayed up for hours, deep into the night, hacking into your phone.

“Photos” he said aloud as he clicked it. He found a treasure trove of pictures. You with some friends, with family, birthdays, dinners, then he found your private photos.

“Let’s see (y/n), what do you do all alone” he whispered opening it. Pictures and videos of yourself floated into view, things other men should never see. Disgusting men like him should never see. He quickly searched through your sent and deleted messages, as far back as he could go, they’d never been sent. He returned back to the photos and stared at each on individually, videos playing, hardening his cock.

In Ho began to touch himself as he watched, his hand moving in sync with yours on the screen. He felt like he was participating in your intimate moment, like an invisible partner who you couldn't see or feel but was there nonetheless. He couldn’t help but freely moan into the emptiness of his room.

As the video played on, In Ho's movements became faster and more urgent. He could feel himself getting closer to climax, his heart pounding in his chest. He felt like a teenager again, watching porn, anxious that his parents may walk in. The thought that these were moments meant for no one else's eyes but yours made it even more exhilarating for him.

“I’m gonna cum” you said on camera. To him. “Oh my god, I’m gonna fucking cum” In Ho was getting sent into overdrive heavy sighs coursing through his lungs. “Oh god, Young il, I’m gonna cum on your fingers” he lost it. You were pleasuring to the thought of him, maybe his over persona, but still him nonetheless.

With one final stroke from you on screen and a simultaneous motion from In Ho's own hand came the peak of pleasure for him followed closely by release. His orgasm washed over him so strongly it left him gasping loudly within seconds all over both his keyboard and along edges near the monitor until reaching very tip top edge finally. He was panting, falling backwards, sinking deep into his chair. Cum heavily covered his desk space, now stained forevermore, a mess entirely due to a solely singular sickening act alone performed freely without fear. Through his sinful act.

If you knew would you forgive him?

[severedfromthesource]

Androids and Electric Sheep

Ren is experiencing an unusual bug. Features F resus, M rescuer, CPR, stething, mouth to mouth, internal defibs, sex leading to cardiac arrest, sex acts both with consent and a person who cannot consent. I got too invested in the preamble so I highlighted the moment resus actually starts if you want to skip it.

No matter how advanced technology gets, it’ll only ever be used to fulfill man’s most base desires. Case in point- RN-34678. Or Ren, when the barcodes make my eyes glaze over and I get sick of calling them the number slurry X Tech names absolutely everything. Ren is as sophisticated as they come. Actual artificial intelligence. She makes the predictive text and ‘can’t even draw fingers’ image generating 21st century jokes people passed off as AI look like even more of a waste of time than they had been in those days. They might as well have been Speak n Spells. The collective power of every single basement dwelling crypto whizz kid with miles of wires and burnt up processors and bricked up video cards dedicated to their etherium farms pale in comparison to the computing power it takes to run Ren’s brain for an hour. She understands nearly 6,000 languages. She learns and retains information, consuming nearly 160 TB of memory every 8 hours. The bio-organic lace that makes up the net of her brain is a miracle, with the possibility of infinite memory. She is perfect in every sense of the word.

She is a glorified fuck toy.

The second the first android became commercially available, one of the first markets they hit was sex work. If nothing about late stage capitalism drove you crazy, that would have. Fuck curing cancer, or making androids for the dangerous, back breaking work people wreck their bodies to do, X Tech decided people needed a sex doll with a 100k price tag. The world’s most expensive cum sock. And yeah, alright, maybe I’m just bitter, partially because there’s no way in hell I could ever afford one, even as an android technician. But what a waste. She sits on my examination table, dutifully unzipping her black leather catsuit. Her managers always manage to stick her in something stupid looking, so overblown and sexualized they stop even being sexy at a certain point.

She looks up at me with lilac eyes. Last time they’d been blue. I like this shade better, I think, though I could do without the electric blue bob they have her wearing today. ”Your crash reports say you’ve been throwing error codes whenever a stream donation comes in over 2k,” I say. Which, for a bot like Ren, is quite a lot of her donations. “It’s probably just a bug in payment processing.” I look again over her diagnostics, floating on the screen at my desk. “Any complaints I wouldn’t find in the debug menu?”

”My heart has been feeling strange,” she says. I pause and look at her over the top of my glasses. “Well, firstly, it’s not your heart. An aether pump does not a heart make. Secondly, it shouldn’t feel like anything. You’re supposed to ignore the inner workings, it’s all background programs, runs without you thinking about it.” She shrugs. Her shoulders are pale as she rolls down the catsuit and pulls her arms from the sleeves, bunching up the tight leather around her midriff. Her breasts are small and round, standing upright as pretty as a Botticelli painting. I’d noticed the small bumps on either side of her nipples (Christ, did the things ever go soft? Or were they just always cutting glass?) but didn’t register until I saw them now that her managers had pierced them sometime since our last checkup. Little silver bars were stuck through the pink nubs, with winking silver balls on either end. Alright, cool, chill.

I clear my throat and pull up my rolling stool. “Well, let’s just take a look then.” I shift once I’m seated to alleviate the pressure of my stiffening cock. Listen, I’m not a technophile, honest to God. I go out of my way to filter out androids when I’m scrolling through porn sites because, despite the leaps and bounds we’ve made in technology, the uncanny valley is still a thing. It feels weird getting off to bots. But then there’s Ren. And fuck me if she isn’t the most attractive thing I’ve ever seen. I put a hand on the back of her neck, my thumb resting at the diagnostic mode button hidden just under the edge of her jaw. I feel the soft bump that sinks in when I press. Her lilac eyes flash black with snatches of white text, then roll back to lilac. Damn, she smells like a new car.

I glance back at the monitor, and as I suspected, nothing comes up about the aether pump. It seems in perfect working order. Still, I dig around my box of scrap wires and spare tubing until I find my mostly neglected stethoscope. I don’t often have to use it, but I feel a trill of excitement go up from my stomach to think I get to use it on Ren. I plug up my ears and put a hand on her shoulder, taking the bell of the steth in my other hand. Her breasts rise and fall with the rhythm of her breathing, set to mimic human intervals. The real purpose is to cool down her insides and keep her from overheating, but just like the aether pump and its auditory cues, its designed to mimic humans as closely as possible. After a guy fucks something like Ren, he gets the added benefit of being able to lay next to her and listen to her breathing. Feel her heart beat. Doesn’t matter what the purpose of the design is for, it matters so he doesn’t feel like he’s fucking a 100k fleshlight with arms and legs. I press the steth to a spot above her breast and it sinks into her pillowy soft skin like it was real. Cool it, Christ, you can’t get so hot and bothered over everything. Heel, boy.

But my thumb makes a slight imprint against her tit, and it’s hard to think of anything else. Same thing happens when I press the steth against a space under her breast, and it lays warmly against the back of my hand. The pump, like the fake lungs, is designed to look and act and even sound like a heart, pumping coolant through her body. I tell her it’s not a heart out of some petty, pedantic need to distance myself and my unique humanity, but truth is, the thing is a heart. She could die if something went really wrong with it, and a lot of bots have. Sudden cardiac arrest was one of the main bugs in the 2.3 rollout. It got so bad, tons of models in the service industry had to be recalled, because mechanical line cooks and servers were dropping if the ovens got too hot. My hand still on her neck, I pull her forward and press the bell to her back. Her forehead brushes against my shoulder, her gaudy blue wig draping against the side of my neck and jaw. I tilt my head just enough my nose brushes her hair. Fuck, she really does smell good.

“Well, I don’t hear any irregularities,” I tell her, because I don’t. The thing is pumping liquid aether around her body at around 70 bpm, like it should. She draws up from my shoulder, glancing at me sideways. “It only seems to happen with clients,” she says, drying out my throat in an instant. “Clients?” “Mhm. Whenever one of them climaxes. If they do it inside me, my heart starts going very fast. I get foggy and I can’t think afterwards.” I swallow. “Right,” I say, “I mean… I can’t exactly test that, Ren.” She touches my wrist. “It’s rather frightening, Doc. I worry…” She pauses, and I try very hard not to say out loud what I’m thinking. You shouldn’t be frightened of anything, Ren. You’re not supposed to feel any of this. She sits back, bringing her hand up, her fingers curling against where her pump lies in her chest, half covering her nudity.

She doesn’t want to get recalled. I wince in spite of myself. If she has the same defect others in her rollout had, she’s going right back to X Tech. I push the steth around my neck, scooping back hair from my face. “It’s a pretty fatal system flaw. It… I could… Well, I-“ I can’t look at her. Fuck, I really can’t look at her. My face feels hot. This is the plot of like, 90% of bot R34 on the internet. I might as well be a pizza delivery guy and she a lonely housewife who’s a few bucks short on a large sausage. She ‘breathes’. Her chest goes up and down, the lights winking off her pierced nipples. She’s so goddamn gorgeous.

“Doc?” “Thinking,” I huff. I spare a glance around the other cubicles bordering mine. Big glass offices, designed for this exact stupid fucking thing I’m about to do. The first guy who got caught with his dick in a bot ruined it for everyone, so now my coworkers and I are subjected to rat lab cubicles where we can look in on each other at any given moment. People around us testing reflexes, repairing cosmetic damage, quashing bugs. What I was about to do was also technically debugging, but there was no way in hell my boss was gonna see it that way if he saw my flat ass pumping in and out of a bot worth more than I make in a year on the other side of plexiglass. Alright, cool, chill. I scoop up my backpack with my work laptop and sling it over my shoulder. “Bathroom,” I whisper.

Cut to Ren and I, locked in the women’s bathroom. We have three women in the office, and their cubes are on the other side of the building, closer to another bathroom. This one is usually empty. Cut to her, awkwardly standing in front of a toilet. Me, on the verge of being the Most Fired Man Who Ever Lived. For extra security, I’d stuffed us both into a stall, locking it behind me too. It's cramped, which adds to the feeling this is absolutely not what I'm supposed to be doing. But hey, it's my job, isn't it?

I awkwardly maneuver around her and sit on the toilet lid, hastily undoing my pants. God, this is shameful. And weirdly hot? I can't tell if it's just Ren or the dozen or so corporate regulations and general laws I'm breaking doing this, but I can feel the pulse in my cock, pressing up against the inseam of my jeans. Those lavender eyes flick from my face to the swollen, flushed skin, and the outer rim of her pupils flash with color. I help her roll down the leather catsuit and then, holy shit, Jesus, Mary and Joseph, I’m inside her. She feels real. My hands on her back, my face buried in her tits, her thighs on mine, she feels realer than any woman I had ever known. My breath warms her artificial skin, and the barbell through her nipple is cold, the contrast making me shiver whenever the hot skin of my cheek touches the metal. My fingers slide up her stomach, her hips bucking and pumping me in and out of her. She’s tight. Really fuckin tight. I can feel her aether pump, the artificial heart, throbbing in her inner walls, harder than any real heart I’d ever felt. It adds to every stroke, a thumping sensation that’s nearly making me come after a couple thrusts. Christ, I might as well be sticking my dick right against the chambers of her fake heart.

The job. Right, I’m doing a job. Fuck, I’ve never loved my job so much. “Lemme- ngh, God, fuck- lemme see i-ins-side your ch-est, R-Ren.” She’s straddling my lap, panting like a porn star, her bob swinging back and forth, and she nods. The synthetic skin goes translucent, a dull blue glow that starts at her collarbone and down to the bottom of her ribcage. I spare only a brief chuckle, Man, we never could get rid of those stupid gamer lights, before I try to focus my attention on her inner workings. The aether heart is basically a simplified human one, drawing hot fluid in one side and squeezing out coolant through the other in an eternal ebb and flow. And right now, it’s going insane. The valves are snapping open and closed rapidly, the thing shuddering instead of really beating. There’s a little display window pinned under her collarbone, and it’s clocking her at 150 bpm, the green spikes of her heartbeat saw toothing across the round display port. Not totally dangerous, but as I pump inside of her and she bounces on my thighs to match my quickening pace, it keeps climbing.

Alright. As much as I want to be stuck in here forever, with a beautiful woman bouncing on my dick in a way I’ve only ever dreamed of, I have to figure out what’s wrong. I wrap my arms around her body, pulling her flush against my chest. “Hold onto me, ‘kay?” I breathe against her ear. Her arms slid around me, nails brushing briefly against my shoulder blades. I take in her scent. Focus on the sensations of her body, the sharp cold of her piercings, breasts pressed against my chest, her warm, throbbing cunt. It doesn’t take long. I start to lose the rhythm as my breath shortens, my strokes shortening too, until finally I can take it no more. I come, hot seed filling her up, bathing my cock, spilling out from between our sexes. Her back arches, a cry ripping from her throat of the most exquisite ecstasy.

Then she dies.

No, seriously, the bot quits all at once. I’m there, still trying to enjoy the feeling of my load making her even tighter and full, when she goes completely limp. Her arms slide down from my back, and the artificial pulse I feel in her cunt just stops all at once. She’s dead weight on top of me. “Fuck,” I spit, trying to readjust her, but she’s goddamn heavy. “Ren? Hey, Ren- man, what the fuck-”

I look up at her sternum to see the aether pump has stopped. The little internal monitor is reading a flatline. I fumble to unlatch the bathroom door, my other hand cradling her back, as I awkwardly shift to try and swing it open. Both of us end up in a heap on the floor when I try to pick her up. I'm apologizing to her slack and lifeless face as I disentangle myself and hastily zip up, then lay her flat on her back. Her perfect round breasts sit in the open air, her still heart glowing between them. I set my laptop beside her and hook up a USB into the command port hidden behind her ear.

There was no tip off in her crash reports, but looking now, I can see the absolute mess of code in the last few lines she ran before arresting. I clean up some of the irregularities, get rid of the redundancies, and hit reboot. Two small circular nodes glow within her chest, then snap against the chambers of her heart. Basically built in defib units. Her body jerks, hand twitching in against her cheek, her back arching slightly. Her naked shoulder blades slap against the tile floor as she falls back, limp again. But she doesn't move. Her pump is still. I glance at the monitor and see FATAL SYSTEM ERROR flash across the screen. Fuck, am I going to have to do this manually?

Growling in frustration, I throw my hands against her sternum. It's easy to get the right position when I can see her heart lying beneath a few layers of synthetic skin. Squaring my shoulders, I push down hard. Unlike with real CPR on a real person, depth doesn't matter, nor the risk of breaking ribs. She's basically Wolverine. A hydraulic crusher couldn't break her ribs. They yield though, and bow in against her spine as I rhythmically pump her heart. The force ripples through her whole body. Her stomach pops up, her shoulders shrug in, her head rolls back and forth. I look from her face down to her tits. I can't help it, they're swaying with each compression, the light catching her piercings. I can feel the cool metal rest against my fingers. The position my hands are in leaves my fingertip pressing against her nipple, still standing upright from our exercise. A shiver runs through me. Am I seriously getting hard again? It's hard not to. My eyes drink in her still body, the remnants of our session dribbling down her thigh, her breasts bouncing like they had when she was riding me.

I can almost see the corner of the screen light up with “Kink Unlocked: Reviving Dead Girls”. I glance at the monitor and see the reboot option has lit up again. When I take my hands away from her chest, I see her aether pump jerking as if trying to start again. Once more I charge the internal defibrillators. While they hum to life, I partake in a ritual that isn't strictly necessary. The hero always gets to indulge in mouth to mouth with the downed heroine. She doesn't actually need air, but her lips are slack, full and inviting. I press mine over hers, breathing air she doesn't need into her mouth. I can feel her cheeks puff, and I'm surprised but excited to see her chest rises too. I give her a few quick bursts of oxygen. Her chest jerks up and I only allow it to fall part way before I give her another, making her chest rise and fall in short hyperventilations. My hand finds itself running up her stomach to feel the motion of my breaths, up over her breast again. It fills my palm as I breathe a long, slow draft into her throat, and I roll her nipple between my fingers. She sighs out recycled air against my face when I break the seal of our lips.

Man, how do EMTs not cum when they resuscitate hot girls? The whole tableau is so erotic, I can feel my pulse once more jerk in my cock. The defibs once more slap the chambers of her artificial heart and she thrashes under the current. Her breasts sway and she again falls limp to the tiles.

“Come on, Ren,” I say under my breath, watching her aether pump swelling at uneven intervals. The chambers aren't beating right still, snapping open and closed out of sync with one another. I again check her code on my laptop, using one hand to tap through my options. The other I lay against her sternum. It occurs to me I really don't know what the fuck I'm doing. Whatever feels like it helps, I guess. Or whatever feels good. I grind my heel in against her heart in slow, rhythmic compressions with one hand. “Come on, work with me here. Breathe for me. Do something, at least let me know you're not completely bricked.” The idea that she might be makes me swallow hard. I like Ren. I don't want to ship her off to the junkyard as much as she doesn't want to be shipped.

When her heart goes still again I lace my fingers together and start pumping her chest anew. I forget my laptop entirely- this isn't a software issue, it's the hardware in her chest acting up. If I can just get the damn thing to reset. Swinging my leg over her supple thighs, I straddle her so I can use my whole body. Like this, I can feel the motion my work creates in her otherwise still body. Each powerful thrust against her pump rolls the kinetic force through her whole body. Her feet swing back and forth. The force rolls from her chest, down her stomach, even rippling her thighs. Each compression makes her stomach roll out, only now I can feel it between my legs.

Fuck it, I'm already fired. These life saving efforts have got me hard all over again, something I would have thought impossible. I unzip and thrust into her almost in one motion. It's next to impossible to actually pump into her while I'm working her heart, so I mostly settle for letting her body rock into me while I do CPR. Only when the prompt for the defibrillator pops up again do I allow myself to roll my hips into her while it charges. The thing whines quietly as I brace my hand against her chest, driving my cock deep inside her. It slaps her heart again and she arches her back, filling my hand against her sternum. Her inner walls clench with the electricity and I groan as I roll in and out of her. That's when she draws in a breath and moans all at once. Her eyes flutter open and she instinctively begins to grind her hips in rhythm with me. Before long I'm filling her up all over again and I collapse on top of her. She's back. The thought strikes me as I look down and see her aether pump snapping out a normal, if elevated rhythm. I roll off onto the welcome chill of the tile floors, my arm still slung around her.

“You okay?” I pant, my eyes half lidded as I look at her. Ren nods, smiling weakly in return. Then she’s wrapping her arms around me, burying her face in my shoulder. I hesitate, the shame of what I had done to her when she was basically dead starting to creep up now that the high is waning. But eventually I slide my arms around her in return, drawing her close to my body. “Thank you, doc,” she whispers.

“Don't mention it.” Seriously, don't mention any of this.

[bonefall]

I've seen your discourse about holstein.

Pun not intended, but is there any other cow races you've beef with ? And what do you think of the limousine, if you've any opinion on it.

The Limousine is mid.

Solid-colored cow that used to be a great working breed that could also be good meat at the end of its life, but has been intensively bred for the past century to be nothing but food.

They're a really common meat breed in the modern day, but they're only "good" because of modern fertilizers and grain feeding. France is actually the most nature-depleted country in Europe, and the """improvement""" of breeds like the Limousine is one of the reasons why it's so bad there.

My cow endorsements are for hardy, environmentally low-impact breeds which are well adapted to the regions they live in. I also personally give points for unique traits and genes, interesting patterning, and intelligence. Limousines have none of these.

I can't hate them like I do some other breeds, though. They're healthy, grow fast, and they produce good meat. I simply don't have many good things to say about them. Lame.

A different breed I DO have beef with though? Belgian Blues.

They took a perfectly good cow with a gorgeous blue coat and turned it into something out of Akira. Through INTENSE inbreeding, a gene for double muscling has been forced into this breed, turning them into these stomach-churning FurAffinity rejects.

You may have seen them called "super cows," but I think they're more like Frankenstein's Monster. They were literally created in a lab, in the 1950s, at an artificial insemination center. Their "myostatin" gene is broken, so their skeletal muscles grow to double the size that they should be.

The good news is that, thankfully, these animals don't seem to be in any chronic pain. Myostatin-related muscle hypertrophy in humans does not hurt, nor lead to secondary health problems. It's been studied in lots of animals, too, and they seem to be able to live healthy lives.

The bad news is;

They are UNABLE to give birth on their own and need c-sections to have calves.

Their necks are so stiff that bulls can have a hard time turning their heads.

Some calves are born with tongues so large they can't suckle.

The myostatin gene prevents them from developing good fat distribution, so they freeze to death easily.

Their skin is thinner than usual, too, so they're susceptible to parasites

They're bad grazers and need supplemental feed, so they have a larger impact on the environment.

Btw, as a comparison, here is what the original dual purpose Belgian Blue is supposed to look like.

We had a GOOD COW going, BELGIUM! It was BLUE! We had all the MILK AND MEAT WE NEEDED. And you just had to go and BLOW IT UP. YOU AND YOUR PRIDE AND YOUR EGO.

Luckily, modern Belgian Blues are not economically viable. The fact they need so much medical care and maintenance makes them more of a "status symbol" breed than one that will actually get adopted on a wide scale. THANKFULLY we're not working against market forces for this one.

But I think we need to go further. I think people who breed or advocate for modern Belgian Blues should have tomatoes thrown at them. I yearn for a world where every time one of those double-muscled beasts is shown at a livestock event, the audience loudly cringes.

I am pro-bullying but ONLY for Belgian Blue breeders. That is my beef.

[mydogatemymotivation]

I had a thought about Lasan. People tend to agree that Zeb is kind of looked down on or seen as less intelligent by the people around him, despite him obviously being very smart, and I was wondering why that was. I do think there's some underlying xenophobia in the rebellion, even if it's not as rampant, that when someone looks at Zeb they might see him as something 'other' or somehow more animal like and therefore unintelligent. But then why does Zeb so frequently look down on himself as well? Is it just a lack of confidence? Well, I was thinking and I came up with this idea: what if the foundation of knowledge itself is different on Lasan compared to the rest of the galaxy?

So, hear me out, I'm a historian, I love history and there was a history class I was in some time ago that was all about the Aztec, Inca, and Maya, major empires each during their heyday, and in one of the units, we learned about the Mayan calendar and their number system (you don't have to be a mathematician for this, I promise) (I can't do math) (also this whole post is an excuse for me to talk about this cuz I think it's neat).

The Mayans (and by extension most people in Central America) used a completely different number system to do math. They used what's called a vigesimal system, not a decimal system. A decimal system is a Base 10 system: 1's, 10's, 100's.  This is the way we learn math today.

(sorry for the shitty quality. and the. stains. i was snacking on salt an vinegar chips and they spilled. ignore that.)

However a vigesimal system is not Base 10, but Base 20, and this changes the most basic arithmetic. Actually, it flat out changes the way numbers are read.

It seems like Lasan was a fairly isolated planet, there weren't a lot of Lasat seen in the galaxy at large, and Lasan was neutral during the Clone Wars, so it could be that there wasn't a big push to learn how things are done in the rest of the galaxy unless you were specifically planning on leaving Lasan. And since Zeb was in the Honor Guard, I don't imagine he ever even wanted to leave, but rather was forced to. Which means he probably never would've learned the systems that the rest of the galaxy used.

Now, I will say that the decimal system only exists because humans have ten fingers, which is why it called Base 10. And the vigesimal system exists because humans have ten fingers and ten toes, which is why it's called Base 20. Lasat have neither, which means they probably didn't use a vigesimal system; but it also means they probably didn't use a decimal system either. Not unless they imported it. Like I said, I'm not a mathematician, so I'm not even going to try to figure out what a Base 8 or a Base 16 number system looks like, I'm not that good at math.

But imagine, if you will, being forced to step out into a world where you can't even read numbers (I'm going to keep using vigesimal as an example). How would people look at you? Say you're in a foreign market and you're trying to scrape together enough credits to buy food. You look at the characters the rest of the galaxy uses and you have to translate them, so you're stood there staring at this price tag, the guy behind the counter is getting impatient. So you manage to translate the characters into the ones you know and pull out your credits. It's a 2 and an 8. 2x20 is 40 and an 8, is, well, 8. So you try to pay 48 credits for the food. Your new traveling companion clears his throat and tells you that's almost double the price and you really can't afford to lose credits on a translation error. Then you remember, they use tens. So 2x10 is 20. Not 40. Now the shopkeeper's looking at you funny, and your companion is paying the proper price for the food. And you have to just stand there, embarrassed, that you can't even do basic math.

So you get back to your new ship and there's this thing there, it's metal, and it thinks with a system called binary. Which is somehow a language based on a number system that you don't understand. And it's yelling at you. Loudly. And a lot. Would anybody blame you if you tried to punt the little trash can into the sun? If that was your experience day-in, day-out would you offer yourself up when somebody asks for ideas? I wouldn't. And to go through some version of that repeatedly without really being able to explain because first of all, who wants to learn new math just for you, and second of all, this is your second language anyway so how are you supposed to explain new math sufficiently when you have to translate everything in your head first. That would be crushing, and isolating. And some days, maybe it's just easier to be the dumb brute.

As someone who grew up bad at math, all STEM actually, and blonde (which doesn't seem like it'd be a big deal, but people really do treat like you're stupider than everyone else. Far and away NOT the worst hair-based discrimination, but the stereotype does get under your skin eventually) I was genuinely convinced I was stupid. I know now that my brain is wired for arts and humanities and I am NOT stupid. But my inability to do simple math without a calculator is humiliating to this day and I can really empathize with Zeb about feeling like you're lacking something that comes naturally to everyone else. The self-doubt and the self-loathing that come with looking around you and realizing that if you ask for help, you open yourself up to mockery because what's hard for you is basic for everyone else. It sucks. I don't blame Zeb for being so down on himself.

Zeb could've had the best education on Lasan but it truly doesn't matter how quality your education is if everyone around you reads 28 differently than you do. It's not a lack of intelligence, it's a translation error coupled with a lack of grace from the people around you. I'd beat myself up, too.

I'm not saying that I think this is what the writers had intended or anything, in fact, I don't think they thought about Lasan and it's culture all that much, if I'm being honest, but that's a thought for later. I just, I had this idea and wanted to share.

Can you believe this post exists because my dad bought me a mug lol. I collect mugs and my dad found one that has Mayan hieroglyphs carved onto it and he knows that I can understand a handful of glyphs and thought I'd like it. I don't have it yet but it's en route. Anyway, it got me thinking about ancient Maya and I've got kalluzeb brainrot and they collided and made this.

[bibibbon]

TBHX and trust values

⚠️This post contains episode 5 spoilers⚠️

From the 5 episodes of TBHX, we all have there are some interesting things about the trust system.

For someone to become a hero, they must have a high number of trust values. However, that's not all. The character must also have a certain reputation, which ends up giving them a certain power, which is then strengthened as their trust value increases. For example, OG Nice's power is that of perfection because his brand image is that of perfection so the increased number of trust values gave him the power to perfectly attack people's weaknesses and take them down perfectly.

For Firm man, his power is of indestructible strength, which he gained due to his reputation of being able to keep a whole building upright so it doesn't kill him and Wolf Girl.

For Moon, her power is that of teleportation because her brand image started as that of a travel blogger who wanted to show people every part of the world.

You get the point, but the trust system doesn't choose the power of the person it simply gives them power according to the reputation they built and what people believe about them.

This is why when Yang cheng receives 1 trust value from Little polomeo, he is able to fully use his device and electrocute the kidnappers because at that point in time that's what Little polomeo viewed him as. He viewed him as E-soul, and so he inherited a fraction of E-souls power.

Lin Ling reveals to us in episode 1 that civillains do have trust value points themselves, but he does state that it's difficult to get peoples trust and that if someone has a low number of trust values they are essentially viewed as a "nobody."

However, it's never stated for Lin Ling to have 0 trust values so I will be making the assumption that while in his marketing job Lin Ling had a low number of trust values that he could be considered a "nobody."

This still makes him a bit similar to Yang cheng, who has 0 trust value points ever since his parents died. Now I watched this with English subtitles, but I think it's an interesting point that it's stated that he hasn't had any trust value points ever since his parents died because if it implies that Yang cheng's parents were two individuals who believed in him and trusted him and this can be further argued when he remembers their encouragement of how he should be as brave as E-soul.

Again, there is a heavy implication that the trust value system works when people fully trust and believe in an individual something that can be built through very close relationships or overall through an individuals reputation. For example, the smartest person in class will have the reputation of being highly intelligent and diligent, and so when it comes to it, teachers are more likely to trust them and put faith in them based on that reputation.

[arthurmorgay]

the uproar caused by the recently released synopsis for jeff lemire and dustin nguyen's sequel for robin & batman, describing jason as angry and impulsive, has left me very... eeeehhh.

"eeeehhh" as in, i don't think people are wrong for being mad and upset at jason being described like that, but i also don't get the fixation with the whole "jason was the happy and whimsical robin" fantasy.

let me break this down: pre-crisis jason was happy to be robin and volunteered himself for it, yes. but dc had no prospect for a higher role for him in batman's mythos and his backstory was a literal copy of dick's backstory; no traits that composed jason from 1987 influenced his character back then. not catherine, not willis, not sheila haywood, not an impoverished upbringing, not faye gunn, nothing.

only from the crisis on infinite earths on these traits were added as jason was reworked. and, from then on, his personality was changed: he still found enjoyment in being robin, but he was also troubled by his upbringing -- much like d¡ck became troubled by the murder of his parents -- and those troubles manifested at first with him trying to kill two-face (who was the cause of his biological father's death) and, later on jim starlin's run, an open-ending story where jason may or may not have killed a criminal, which (if he was lying) he feels no visible remorse over.

while the changes in his temper make sense with his new flawed, less-than-ideal upbringing, the classism that motivated those changes should be called out. all those changes were used to play on the population's already existing disliking of jason at the time, and after he got killed off, the "solution" to the "problem" jason was taken as was his complete antithesis: tim was marketed for being moderately wealthy, educated and highly intelligent boy. tim drake was used to "correct" all the flaws of jason.

the problem is, while the changes made on jason have dubious origins, they're the only reason he's still around. the story of jason todd (as in, his death and how affected the narrative for the time he was dead, plus his revival and everything from then on,) was only capable of existing because of the jason made by max allan collins and jim starlin. everything that is liked about jason came from that rework.

so, why the outrage when this is the version of jason that new works are based on? it's the one who formed the one who he was for a long time and is today; angry jason is the jason that makes sense to become red hood later on, because red hood jason was based on angry jason.

bringing back the first paragraph, i do find reasonable not liking angry jason because it is rooted in classism. what i don't get is insisting on acting like angry jason is "just a mischaracterization" or that it was something brought later on, and that the fantasy of a whimsical, happy jason that never existed after he got his own individual story could be a good thing.

two things can be true at the same time: angry, irrational jason was a bad change for its roots, but it did and does constitute what jason was and is.

[elodieunderglass]

I've become obsessed with your jockeyposting and Killie (beloved wet cat), and i wanted to ask a question about racehorses. you've mentioned that Killie competes both flat and jumps, and this is unusual but not unheard of for jockeys. is it similar for the horses themselves or do they always keep to one discipline? if so, which one does Thunder compete in??

(thank you so much for sharing these guys, they're so fun to ponder!! <3)

Thank you so much, it’s lovely to hear that and I love to ponder them too! Thank you for pondering with me!

Racehorses tend to keep to a discipline! There is SOME crossover (Tiger Roll is a horse who moved from flat racing to jump and did well) but they tend to be bred for one discipline or the other. They're all Thoroughbreds, so keeping VERY tightly within the same exact breed of horse, but they're on different career tracks and prioritise different things.

O Holy Thunder is a great big jump racer. He's a reasonable age, around 9 years old, I think, and has known and hated Killie for a long time. <3 their relationship is so beautiful

I really liked this throwaway quote from coverage of the Golden Button, which puts the difference in horse builds in terms of cars: “Flat racing horses are the Formula 1 speed machines, National Hunt [jump] horses are more like World Rally Championship, and the horse you need for the Golden Button [rough cross-country race open to mixed-breed horses and amateur riders] is something out of Mad Max.”

I go off on some explanations/tangents below:

Flat racing is what most of the world does. High purses, dirt tracks, super fast-paced, SUPER young horses, super lightweight jockeys, all over in 2 minutes. Horses start their training as toddlers and are thought of as investments - expensive pieces of property that might win large purses of cash and retire to breeding where they could command high stud fees. It’s also an international sport, with major players including Japan, the UAE and Hong Kong. In general, with flat racing, the animals are the jewels of capitalism, and breeding pressures reflect that - increasingly favouring animals that can be the fastest sprinter in two minutes at the age of two. Breeding for the international market increasingly means breeding fast little burnouts with expensive gametes for this purpose.

Jump racing, called steeplechasing in the States, is also called National Hunt in Europe. It is mostly really popular in the UK, Ireland and France. It’s slower, more dangerous and takes longer; the horses are bigger, older, stronger, better trained, and have more temperament and focus. Interestingly, for a long time, there hasn’t been the same emphasis on stud fees - and many male National Hunt horses are gelded! Their owners pass up the chance to make breeding bucks in favour of bringing out the horse’s focus and behaviour. (Thunder really ought to be gelded, but his owner doesn’t want him to be.) this is a distinct contrast to flat racing, where horses are raced young and hard, to build up their value, and then bred a lot and then minced. Steeplechasers are objectively less valuable as bloodstock and cost more to feed and train - they seem to start around age 5 and are shiniest around age 9 - but are more Serious Athletes With Careers.

National Hunt horses need to be moderately intelligent, expensively trained, have good judgment and stamina, and be very good at jumping. Their races are longer - the Grand National’s like 10 minutes long and over four miles with seven MILLION thirty jumps, most of which are like 5 feet high and some of which are also insane.

Brown thoroughbred horsies always look exactly the same, but steeplechase horsies are a bit heavier, favouring stamina and strength.

Forever Young, 4 yo Japanese flat racer / I Am Maximus, 9 yo French-bred British jumpy boy. Almost identical horses in an almost identical pose, same breed/colour/etc, but the flat racer looks like A Baby to me, you know?

Steeplechases are also the ones that get protested more by animal rights activists, because you might see a horsie die falling at a jump. Jockey deaths, and the fact that flat racers are generated and privately culled in far larger volumes, as a sort of convoluted way for rich people to support the dogmeat industry, are far less aesthetic, and therefore unimportant. And the fact that the rich owners are mincing the PLANET for their day jobs is not important or worthy of protest at all 😌

In a separate post at some point, I'd like to go off on a rant about the racing industry and how it's separating the flat racers into a strain of freakout-out little puppymill creatures, because Right Wing, but it accidentally turned into a land justice/political/animal rights post, and I am trying ✋not to get into it

Gosh, thank you so much though, I really love meeting and chatting with people about BONKERS SPORT WITH SOOOO MUCH INFORMATION and my rancid OCs 💖

[liveblack]

What is Artificial Intelligence(AI) | Liveblack

AI(Artificial Intelligence) is a controversial topic. People love to explore new options that help them do their work effortlessly. However, every new thing comes with flaws as well.

AI technology is just like that. AI has lots of benefits wrapped around its disadvantages. The Internet is flooded with heaps of rumours, hopes, and fears that many people are positive about

AI and so many are negative.

Does AI take human jobs? The question arises after AI was introduced to this world. Well, as we all know humans develop AI so it has to be controlled by humans. AI might aid humans to work faster and smarter in a way that lets them explore their potential or productivity to create something innovative. But what does AI mean? Let’s check out.

What is Artificial Intelligence(AI)?

AI is a set of technologies that allow computers to work on advanced functions to analyse and understand data, translate and give recommendations according to tasks. AI is a computer-controlled robot that works on tasks assigned by humans.

AI processes a large amount of data and can make decisions, recognise patterns, make predictions, automate tasks, etc.

Introduction to artificial intelligence is still being determined, but we have curated a whole content to let you know more about it.

What do you know about artificial intelligence? Do you think AI can replace humans in jobs, and industries? No matter what industry you take, AI has the adaptability to change according to the situation. Every day, everything is evolving, and artificial intelligence is programmed in a way to work on different responsibilities. This is a matter where people are divided into two groups because of AI. Some people believe AI can take over jobs and humans become jobless in future. On the other hand, the second kind of people thinks that AI complements human creativity and helps them explore their true potential.

Well, whatever an AI can do, it can never surpass human intelligence because human values, creativity, and decision-making can always be led by humans and not AI.

What is the Foundation of AI?

Artificial intelligence isn’t a new-age term. It has been known since the 1950s. Alan Turing, a British mathematician and computer scientist is the brain behind the foundation of AI. 1950 is the year when researchers started exploring artificial intelligence and its possible applications.

Machine learning, neural networks, natural language processing (NLP), problem-solving, etc. are the key components of artificial intelligence. This will help humans do their work at a fast pace.

Let us get into the main point for we are here to discuss the whole artificial intelligence concept.

How does artificial intelligence influence digital marketing?

Imagine you have loads and loads of data about your customer’s behaviour, likes, dislikes, and all the trends they like to follow!!! Sounds easy peasy to get your marketing work done, right? AI can help you with this task to get a clearer idea to set your marketing goals according to your customers’ choices.

AI is helping shape the future of digital marketing in a way that aids brands to generate unique concepts and customers to get personalized experiences.

Let us have a look into different points that artificial intelligence has made easier for brands to target their audience.

Enhanced Data Analysis -

With AI, analyze the enormous amount of data where you can spot the pattern of your customer’s behaviour, preferences, etc. to make informed decisions. AI’s capability of data analysis can be your best-helping buddy in designing a marketing strategy and campaign.

In this way, marketers get a deeper understanding of insights and get the points that save their time and energy to target the audience in a better way. These smart buddies convert a bunch of data into a meaningful pile of information to optimize data to plan for a future marketing campaign. When marketers get to know about the preferences of their customers they have the purchasing patterns, product or service preferences, etc.

So the marketers can design their budget according to the data given by the AI. This way marketers build meaningful relationships with customers. With the given data or information, marketers can design personalized offers, vouchers, personalized messages and emails, and make customers feel valued to win their trust. This is the way to maximize ROI(return on investment) because happy customers always return to the brand they trust.

Understands Individualized Preferences -

AI-driven systems improve customer experience. How? By providing information that helps marketers gain real-time insights they can see customer preferences and market their products accordingly. Promotional emails, personalized messages and recommendations can be a helpful thing in getting customers’ attention.

AI algorithms understand the repetitive patterns of purchasing and record the content people return to again and again. That’s what helps marketers to design their marketing campaigns and make their customers feel valued and cared for. With this knowledge by their side, bands and businesses can be more productive with their marketing strategies.

Providing personalized content and suggestions to customers creates a connection and builds trust which increases the conversion rate and engagement.

By catering for the needs of customers, a brand and business can attract customers and strengthen their relationship with them. AI is helping to make this bond strong with the information it collects.

AI and machine learning are two different things yet they are connected. Machine learning is a part of artificial intelligence that allows machines to learn from experiences to make more improvements. Machine learning analyzes enormous amounts of data, gets insights, and makes reasonable decisions.

Bard is Google’s AI. AI by Google is a tool to explore creative and unique ideas. This can help in translation, generate texts, and create more productive content. Bard can reply only with information that is already programmed in it or fetched from other sources.

Well, whatever we think about AI or how we can adopt it in our daily lives, the future holds surprises for us. Artificial intelligence has the potential to change the game with its ability to solve problems and aid humans in creating new ideas, and concepts, and exploring vast possibilities.

[wondersinwaynemanor]

Does Tim forget he's officially a Wayne now? That, or his mind is too full with many ideas and he's easily distracted from one thought to the next. I think it's all of the above.

During a board meeting at Wayne Enterprises, employees try to get his attention cus sleep-deprived Tim is analyzing stock markets and investments, and planning on what he should to Mr. Freeze tonight because that bastard almost blasted Damian with his freeze gun, and he's wondering what country he could explore with Kon on the weekend.

When Jason asked, "How do you handle everything, Timmy??" Tim answered, "It's quite easy." Dick worries for his younger brother's mental health. Bruce constantly checks in on Tim on how's he doing with his different responsibilities and if he needs to step down as CEO for now and let Lucius handle it for him. But Tim is full of determination and intelligence- Bruce admires that about his son. Those traits are very present in his family.

Employee 1 - Mr. Wayne, what do you think of this project? Do you think it can benefit us?

Tim - ..... (on his mind - "I'm gonna rip that suit from Mr. Freeze till he apologizes for what he did to Damian. I'm gonna kill-").

Lucius - Mr. Wayne. (he doesn't usually call Tim this way but they're in a professional setting right now so it's a given).

Tim is fnally out of the trance from his own mind - Yes, Mr. Fox. Sorry, my apologies. That project is amazing... (and he continues to speak about the project like he didn't just get lost there).

And the board of members continue to be impressed by young Timothy Wayne.

[spacerockfloater]

hi! i noticed you learnt about what ryan condal said regarding blood and cheese. it was…something. i would like to know your thoughts on the matter. though it would be completely understandable if you need sometime to gather them together or if you would rather not at all! thank you and bye!

Hello beloved, thank you so much for asking me! I’d love to share my opinion!

If anyone’s wondering, @rhaenelle is referring to this interview where Ryan Condal essentially says he believes that Blood & Cheese’s brutality and heinousness was exaggerated by the Greens in a propagandistic attempt to convince their subjects that Rhaenyra and Daemon are the worst villains ever born, hence why he toned the event down; to show us what he thinks is the accurate version of Jaehaerys’ murder.

Now, I am aware that Condal had already warned us that HOTD was going to be a feminist retelling of the events of F&B, which practically means that his plan has always been to whitewash the everlasting fuck out of Rhaenyra. So what do I think about this?

Well, for starters, I think that Ryan Condal is an excellent businessman. He knows what kind of tropes are going to make the audience engage with his show. He understands that people need a hero to cheer for and a villain to hate, therefore he removed the moral ambiguity from all of the characters and divided them into two categories: the Blacks, enlightened revolutionaries full of passion, deserving of admiration and correct in everything they do, and the Greens, pious fools with a moral superiority complex who are stack in the ways of the past and commit despicable crimes. The average viewer does not possess the intelligence to comprehend that both parties have their good and bad moments, and that they’re both correct in fighting for what each believes is rightfully theirs. Simultaneously, he benefits from the modern trends that want women in media to take revenge when they are wronged and emerge as triumphant girlbosses, because of course a white upper class woman’s suffering in a western world (or Westeros) society has everything to do with her gender and nothing to do with her personality or decisions (even if this works solely for Rhaenyra, because Alicent seems to be held accountable for every single one of her actions). Finally, it is obvious that Condal is trying to appease disgruntled Daenerys fans, so he has rebuilt Rhaenyra into this tortured martyr that wishes to change the world for the better in an attempt to make her resemble her great granddaughter six times removed.

For all of these reasons, I find it very logical that he is going out of his way to minimise the tragedy the Greens experience. It just doesn’t make Rhaenyra look good and honestly, who wants that? The producers saw how unhappy Danny’s stans were when they made her lose her shit; they’re not going to make the same mistake twice. They don’t want their show to tank like the last season of GOT did, so they’ll do everything in their power to keep the audience happy. And it’s working! What’s the last thing Condal says in this clip? “You kinda start rooting for [Blood and Cheese]!” and boy oh boy, the TB stans sure do! Literally hundreds of memes that rejoiced at Jaehaerys’ death were posted on X this week, with tens of thousands of likes. But when Lucerys died, it was presented as the most foul thing to ever happen in the ASOIAF universe. It is the TB supporters that dictate which child murder is good and which is bad, and that decision usually depends on which child came out Rhaenyra’s womb, not let’s say, the fact that one kid was a toddler that could barely walk, while the other was a teenager that laughed at the disabled person he mutilated himself.

It’s all just marketing

That being said, I want to clarify that I understand why Condal and the HOTD producers do what they do, but being a good entrepreneur does not necessarily make you a literary genius. Now, I’m not gonna explain why stripping Rhaenyra off of every character trait that made her interesting is a bad decision and that in their attempt to remove the blame from her so that they can elevate her as this righteous patron of feminism, they’re accidentally removing all of her agency and turning her simply into a victim, because I have a whole blog dedicated to that. But let’s just say that presenting Rhaenyra as this sexually liberated idol that’s incapable of evil, when in fact she’s an entitled aristocrat who’s completely at the mercy of men around her, from her father to her husbuncle, is the most performative activism move ever pulled in recent TV history, as well as pushing the narrative that Alicent suffers from internalised misogyny because duh, a woman can only be good and a feminist if she supports Rhaenyra, not when she pursues her own interests.

Ultimately, I think we just have to accept that this show is not meant for TG fans. We are not going to find any satisfaction in it. Everything that was unique and admirable about the Greens in the book has vanished. Their family dynamic is fucked up, Alicent’s children hate her, Aegon and Halaena cannot stand one another, Alicent is constantly a victim and never someone that chases her own ambitions, Halaena is very vague, Aemond appears to be more angsty than angry, Aegon is a stupid rapist, Jaehaerys’ death was turned into a mockery, Alicole was weaponised in order to make us shit on Alicent and Criston even more and so on. This show barely caters to us because we’re not making them any money.

The reason that there are more TB than TG stans is because (I’m gonna get so much fucking hate for this) most people who watch TV are fucking morons. I swear, when F&B came out 6 years ago, no one gave a flying fuck about Rhaenyra, because we all understood that everyone involved in the Dance of the Dragons was fucked up in their own way and that the message of this story, just like the general message of ASOIAF, is that nobody deserves to sit on that fucking throne. We were all in agreement about that. But then this fucking show came along and all the oblivious simpletons that swallowed whatever the producers shoved down their throats, grabbed the book and decided that “Woah, this book is obviously a critique on patriarchy and Rhaenyra is obviously the victim of the story”! As if GRRM, the man who said that he doesn’t sit down and think “Oh, I’m going to write a woman now” but instead he believes women to be people just like men, with complex personalities, would ever do that. And they just can’t believe that it is possible for book!Rhaenyra to be an evil racist classist full of entitlement! Surely it must be because the Greens are rewriting history! There’s no way GRRM, the man that created Cersei fucking Lannister, would ever make a female character that’s vicious and crazy just because she feels like it! Y’all need to sit down for a moment. I say this as a radical feminist that supports the 4B movement: you’re projecting your own ideas onto George’s work. Not all the media we consume has to reflect our ideologies, but if you think that it has to, then this book isn’t the anti misogynistic masterpiece you wish it was.

Like, when it comes to F&B, I am firmly anti Targaryen and did not wish for any side to win. I wanted them all wiped out to be honest. But when it comes to HOTD, I’m TG basically out of spite at this point.

All in all, I just think that things are going to go downhill for us from this point on. They’ll just keep glorifying the Blacks until the very end.

[cranberrymoons]

here you are, standing there

prompt: bakery au (@steddieholidaydrabbles) rated: t word count: 880 tags: flirting, meet cute at the farmer's market, baker steve, writer eddie

There’s a farmer’s market in the park at the end of Eddie’s block which turns into a Christmas market as the weather gets cold.

He likes to bring his coffee there on Saturday mornings and find a seat on his favorite bench, just out of the way enough to be perfect for people watching but still close enough that he feels like part of the action. He brings a notebook with him when he does this, to scribble little thoughts to himself or sketch out an idea if he’s working on a new book, but mostly he just takes in the crowd and the air and the way people talk to each other as they shuffle past.

Like the bakery stall right across from his bench, with the stupid hot booth guy. 

Eddie doesn’t know if he’s the owner or a baker or just some college kid they hired to swipe people’s cards on his little iPad thing, but holy shit. Half the sketches in his book are of this guy's eyes or his hands or the special changing way the sun hits his face in the earlier parts of the morning, when it’s just coming up over the tops of the trees in the park.

It’s not creepy; he’s doing character research. He’s… observing the world around him. He’s a writer. Shut up.

He’s doing exactly this one Saturday morning in mid-November about a week before Thanksgiving when a shadow falls over his book. He glances up slowly, eyes trailing up from Hot Booth Guy’s hands to the sunny pattern of flowers embroidered on his apron and all the way up to his face where he’s standing two paces out of reach and staring down at Eddie with an amused little smile on his face.

And – fuck, he’s even hotter up close; Eddie had sort of hoped, for his own sanity if nothing else, that he’d be one of those people who looked weird on closer inspection, but nope. Here he is in all his square-jawed, golden-tanned Hot Booth Guy glory.

He raises his eyebrows and Eddie clears his throat. 

“Um,” he says intelligently. “Hi.”

Hot Booth Guy’s smile widens, and he lets out a little laugh. 

“Hi.” He holds out a crinkly paper bag, and Eddie blinks down at it. “Thought you might want some breakfast.”

Eddie tilts his head to the side. “But I didn’t buy anything?”

Hot Booth Guy nods. “That’s correct.”

He holds the bag out again and wiggles it at him until Eddie accepts it, narrowing his eyes as he peeks inside at the perfect crackly flaky croissant nestled inside. He rips off a piece of it and pops it in his mouth, and Hot Booth Guy smiles as he watches him eat.

“Thank you,” Eddie says. He takes a breath. “This is… really good. Just – why?”

Hot Booth Guy shrugs a little, shoving his hands in his apron pockets. 

“You’re here every weekend and you never stop by,” he says. “Thought I might lure you in with one of my croissants since nothing else was working.”

Eddie lets out a surprised laugh as he takes another bite of croissant. It really is a fucking great croissant. He squints into the sun as he looks up. 

“Lure me in?” 

“Yeah, gotta –” Hot Booth Guy mimes a lasso, throwing it in Eddie’s direction and using it to pull himself a step closer. “One of us has to make the first move. You obviously weren’t going to, so.”

And Eddie feels his cheeks heat in spite of the slight chill in the air. He raises his eyebrows. “I didn’t realize there were moves to be made.”

Hot Booth Guy just smiles. “What’s your name?”

“Eddie,” Eddie says. “Not – I mean, I am, and… you are, just –” He takes a breath. “I’m a writer. I just like to people watch sometimes? It helps me get dialogue down in my head. The rhythm of the way people talk? Things like that.”

Hot Booth Guy smiles. “So you’re not interested in getting lunch after one of the Saturday markets?”

Eddie raises his eyebrows as he takes a sip of his coffee. “You haven’t even told me your name yet.”

Hot Booth Guy taps his apron, just above the flowers, where Steve is embroidered in sloping pink cursive. 

“Oh,” Eddie says.

“Oh,” Steve repeats. “I’m just saying, if you’d bought a muffin or a cookie or even a bagel at any point this summer, you would have –”

“Okay,” Eddie says, smiling in spite of himself even as he flushes. “I get it.”

“You would’ve gotten my name weeks ago. Probably even my number.”

“Oh, was that embroidered on your hat?”

Steve laughs, and he’s so, so lovely when he laughs, big smile and crinkled eyes, and Eddie feels something fizzy and sweet curl in his chest. He finishes the croissant as Steve’s laugh quiets down, and Eddie smiles up at him as he wads the bag into a ball and tosses it into the trash next to them.

“So?” Steve asks. “Lunch? Preferably today so I can start the wooing process before the Christmas rush really kicks in.”

Eddie nods a little, folding his notebook shut against his knees. “I’d like that,” he says. “The wooing, and also the number.”

[also on ao3]