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🏙️💥 UPDATE EPISODE! 💥🏙️ Divanyaa & Chiibihime are stomping their way through a kaiju-sized update! We're covering the NEW Android 18 animation & MORE! Giantess Chiibihime says she doesn't like eating tinies... but if you skip the episode, she might make an exception. 😈

726,558 views • 3 months ago •via X (Twitter)

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AN 18-YEAR-OLD GIRL IS SITTING IN HER NEW BMW EXPLAINING HOW SHE MADE $8,000 IN ONE WEEK. SHE DOESN'T KNOW HOW TO CODE. She calls herself an "AI Web Developer." She makes $15,000 a month. Her entire strategy relies on a cold-calling trick that 99% of web agencies haven't figured out yet. She doesn't pitch. She builds the demo first. She goes on Google Maps. She finds a local business with 5-star reviews but a terrible website. She copies all their business info and drops it into Claude 3.5. Claude writes the website copy. She pastes the copy into an AI site builder. In 4 minutes, the AI generates a fully functional, modern website. Then she picks up the phone and calls the owner. She doesn't ask if they want a new website. She says: "I already built you a new website. Want to see it?" She sends the link. The owner opens it. It has their business hours, their photos, their 5-star reviews, and a working booking button. The owner says it looks incredible. She quotes $1,200 to transfer the domain. Done. Real web agencies walk into meetings with pitch decks and portfolios. They quote $5,000 and ask for a 6-week timeline. This 18-year-old skips the meeting entirely. She shows up with the finished product already built in 4 minutes. She made $8,000 last week closing these deals from her car. There are millions of local businesses on Google Maps with broken websites. The demo does the selling. The AI does the building. The teenager just collects the $1,200.

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71,841 views • 3 months ago

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31,569 views • 23 days ago

You invite vayne to a date on the beach. she says no. you don't ask why. three days later she shows up at your door with a duffel bag and says "lets go" you don't question it. you drive in silence. the aroma of salty air starts leaking through the cracked window an hour before you arrive. she watches the side mirror the entire drive like someone's going to follow you to a public beach on a saturday. you pull into the lot. she doesn't get out of the car. the ocean is loud even through the windshield. waves breaking in slow rolling booms. gulls somewhere. kids laughing down the shoreline. she's staring at the water like it's something she was sent to kill. "change of plans" she says. you wait. she grips the strap of the duffel bag tighter. her knuckles go pale. "i can't swim" you blink. the demon hunter. the woman who has slain demons with her crossbow in total darkness. cannot swim. you try not to smile. she sees you try not to smile. "say one word and i'm walking home" you don't say a word. she gets out of the car. slams the door harder than she needs to. her swimsuit is black. of course it's black. she'd wear tactical gear to the beach if they made it in swim fabric. her crossbow is in the duffel bag. you know it's in the duffel bag. she knows you know. the sand is hot under your feet. the wind pulls at her hair and she keeps pushing it back with irritation. you walk her down to the shore. she stops where the water touches her toes and doesn't move. a wave comes in and wraps around her ankles and pulls back and she watches the sand shift under her feet like the earth just betrayed her. "this is stupid" you say "we don't have to" "i said we're doing it" the sun is directly overhead. your shadow is small. you can smell the salt on her skin already. sunscreen she definitely applied angrily in the car. you hold out your hand. she looks at it for a long second. then she reluctantly takes it. her grip is tighter than it needs to be. her palm is warm. you can feel her pulse in her thumb. you walk in together. knee deep. the water is cold enough to make her inhale sharply. she doesn't complain. she doesn't complain about anything ever. waist deep. a small wave hits her hip and she tightens her grip on you. you pretend not to notice. chest deep. her breathing changes. she grabs your shoulder with her free hand. hard enough that you'll have a mark tomorrow. "i don't like this" you tell her to lean back. you'll hold her. you've got her. she doesn't lean back. "i don't lean back. ever" you say "i know. that's the problem" she looks deep into your eyes as if staring into your soul. the water is moving around both of you in slow pulses. her hair is wet at the ends from where it dipped in. there's salt drying on her cheekbones. her eyes are the color they always are but they look different in this light. less like something hunting you. more like something that hasn't slept in years. long pause. then she leans back. slowly. an inch at a time. like she's disarming a trap that could go off under her. your hand slides under her back. the other cups the back of her neck. her hair spreads out around her in the water. her whole body tightening. she's staring straight up at the sky. "if i drown i'm coming back to kill you" you tell her she's floating. "i know i'm floating. i can feel it" her voice is different. quieter. softer than the voice she uses in the world. you've never heard it. the sun is on her face. her eyelashes are wet and clumped. a single drop of seawater slides from her temple down into her hair. she doesn't flinch. you keep your hand under her even though she doesn't need it anymore. she doesn't tell you to move it. minutes pass. you're not sure how many. then a bigger wave rolls in from behind you. she feels it before she sees it. she panics. snaps upright. both arms around your neck. her face buried in the crook of your shoulder. her whole body pressed against yours in the water. you can feel her heart beating against your chest. you hold her. the wave passes under both of you and keeps going. neither of you moves. you can hear her breathing. slow and shaky. her fingers are tangled at the back of your neck. the ocean sounds further away than it did a minute ago. she smells like salt and sun and something underneath that you don't have a word for. she doesn't let go for a long time. when she finally does she pushes away like she just realized what she was doing. her face is flushed from something that isn't the sun. she won't look at you. she starts walking back to shore without a word. the water breaks around her waist then her knees then her ankles. you follow. on the sand she towels off aggressively. attacks her hair like it insulted her personally. the sun is lower now. gold on the water behind her. kids are still laughing somewhere down the beach. she won't make eye contact. then she says "we're doing this again" she doesn't ask. she tells. "and don't tell ANYONE what you just saw" Study the Saskio way

Tony Chau

49,627 views • 5 months ago

Vayne takes you on a hunt. you don't know why. she doesn't take anyone. she says stay behind me. don't speak unless i speak first. don't make a sound when we move. you say yes. she looks at you for a second longer than usual. "if i tell you to run, you run. you don't look back for me. are we clear" you say yes. she doesn't answer. she just turns and walks out the door. you follow her through the city streets. she moves different when she's working. shoulders lower. steps shorter. her head doesn't turn but her eyes do. you can feel her cataloguing everything. the man smoking outside the tavern. the cat under the cart. the second floor window with the curtain half drawn. she leads you through an alley you didn't know existed. stops at a brick wall. then she climbs. there are handholds carved into the mortar that you wouldn't have noticed if she hadn't used them first. she's halfway up before she realizes you're still at the bottom. she looks down at you. "up" you climb. your hands are shaking by the time you reach the top. the roof is flat. old clay tiles along the edges. a low wall you can crouch behind. the city stretches out below you in every direction. a thousand windows glowing gold in the dusk. she's already at the far side. crouched. crossbow unslung. watching a building across the square. she doesn't look at you when you come up beside her. "stay low" you crouch. "that building. third floor. second window from the left" you look. "i see it" he'll come to that window sometime tonight. i've watched him do it for three nights. i want to know who he meets you ask who he is. her jaw tightens. "a demon pretending to be a man" you don't ask what that means. you settle in beside her. the wind is up here. it pulls at her hair and she doesn't bother fixing it. the sun is going down behind her. her profile in the gold light looks like something carved. her hands on the crossbow are steady. completely still. you've never seen anyone be this still. an hour passes. she doesn't move. you try not to move. your leg falls asleep. you shift an inch. she looks at you. you go completely still again. she looks back at the window. another hour. the sun is gone. the city is blue and black. lamps are lighting up one by one. the air is getting cold. you're shivering before you realize you're shivering. she notices. she doesn't say anything. then she takes off her cloak. doesn't look at you. holds it out to the side. "take it" you say "you'll be cold" "i don't get cold. take it" you take it. it's warm from her. it smells like leather and steel and something underneath. pine. smoke. something you can't name. you put it around your shoulders. the hem pools on the tile. it's huge on you. it's not huge on her. you hadn't realized how tall she is until you were wearing her cloak. she doesn't look at you for the next ten minutes. the stars come out. she shifts closer to you. just a little. so her shoulder is almost touching yours. you don't say anything about it. she doesn't either. you can feel the heat coming off her even through the cloak. another hour. still nothing at the window. she says "tell me something" you blink. "what" "anything. i need to stay sharp. talking keeps me sharp. not about the target. something else" you didn't expect that. you tell her about a book you've been reading. she listens. actually listens. her eyes never leave the window but you can tell she's hearing every word. she asks one question. you answer. she goes quiet again. you keep talking. quieter now. she interrupts you. "shh" she's not looking at the window anymore. she's looking at the roof two buildings over. you don't see anything. you don't see anything for a long time. then you do. a shadow that moves the wrong way. her hand finds yours. she doesn't look at you when she does it. her eyes don't leave the shadow. her fingers lace through yours and LOCK. tight. too tight. knuckles going white around your hand. "don't move" she breathes. you don't move. you can feel every ounce of her focus through her grip. it's not a lover's hold. it's a predator's. every muscle in her hand coiled. ready to drop yours the instant she needs the crossbow. she's not holding you for you. she's holding you to keep track of where you are without having to look. it should scare you. it doesn't. there is something about being held that tight by someone that dangerous that makes the rest of the world go quiet. your heartbeat slows. your breathing slows. the cold stops mattering. you are not the one hunting but you are with the one who is. and nothing is going to get through her to reach you. the shadow crosses the roof and disappears into a stairwell. she watches the spot it left for another full minute. her hand is still locked around yours. she doesn't loosen it. you don't want her to. finally she lets out a breath you didn't know she was holding. "not him. but someone who works for him" her grip eases. slowly. finger by finger. like she's having to consciously tell each one to let go. the last one is her thumb. it stays against your palm for half a second longer than the rest. then she takes her hand back. the cold rushes in where she was. she glances at you. just for a second. then she looks back at the window. the rest of the night she's quieter than before. the target never shows. when the sky starts turning grey she stands up. stretches. rolls her shoulders. looks out over the city one last time. "we're done" you stand too. your legs don't work right. she catches your elbow without looking. "careful" she keeps her hand there until you're steady. then she takes it away. you start to hand her cloak back. she says "keep it for the climb down" she goes first. you follow. the handholds are easier going down once you know where they are. when you're both on the ground she turns to take the cloak. you hand it to her. her fingers brush yours. she doesn't pull back as fast as she usually does. she puts the cloak back on. it's warm now. from you. she has to notice. she doesn't say anything about it. she walks you home. at your door she stops. "don't tell anyone what you saw tonight" you say "i didn't see much" she looks at you. her eyes in the lamplight. the edge of her mouth. almost softer than it should be. "you saw enough" then she turns and walks back into the dark. you close the door. your hand still feels cold where hers was. you can still smell pine on your shirt. you don't sleep. Study the Saskio way

Tony Chau

11,914 views • 5 months ago