#Scalping trading systems

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Market Analysis: Optimizing Forex Trading Strategies

GOLD – Gold prices have held steady, recovering slightly from previous lows. As traders anticipate a potential rate cut announcement this Thursday, we foresee a possible reversal, especially as the dollar strengthens. In this scenario, scalping trading systems may provide profitable short-term opportunities by capturing price fluctuations as momentum shifts.

The MACD shows weakened buying strength, while the RSI suggests overbought conditions, signaling weak momentum for further upward movement. This indicates a higher likelihood of continued selling, but traders can use signal-based trading systems to manage entry and exit points more effectively, ensuring optimized trades.

SILVER – Silver prices continue to decline, demonstrating strong bearish momentum. Analysts anticipate further selling, with the MACD and RSI both confirming continued downward movement. Using Forex risk management strategies, such as stop-loss orders, will be crucial in navigating this bearish trend.

DXY – The dollar shows slight easing ahead of the expected rate cut. Both the MACD and RSI indicate increased selling momentum, suggesting a potential shift. Market expectations for aggressive rate reductions next year have dimmed due to inflationary concerns, adding to market uncertainty. As traders analyze these shifts, forex trend forecasting tools can assist in predicting the future direction of the dollar.

GBPUSD – The pound maintains a bearish outlook, though both the MACD and RSI show signs of gaining bullish momentum. Traders can apply scalping trading systems to take advantage of short-term rallies while keeping an eye on the overall bearish trend ahead of upcoming rate decisions.

AUDUSD – The Australian dollar remains consolidated between identified key levels, with a lack of clear directional bias. The MACD suggests slowing momentum, while the RSI indicates neither overbought nor oversold conditions. Here, Forex risk management strategies are vital to minimize losses in this consolidating market.

NZDUSD – The Kiwi shows slight upward movement, but the MACD signals reduced buying strength. Despite the potential for short-term rallies, the broader trend remains bearish. Signal-based trading can offer traders real-time entry signals to capitalize on any temporary price movements.

EURUSD – The euro demonstrates growing bullish momentum. Supported by an increasing MACD and favorable RSI readings, the euro's upward movement looks promising. Forex trend forecasting techniques can assist traders in capitalizing on potential continued strength as the market reacts to Fed rate cuts.

USDJPY – The yen continues to weaken, with exaggerated selling levels despite minimal pullbacks. Both the MACD and RSI point to significant buying momentum. Traders awaiting the Bank of Japan's upcoming policy decisions can apply scalping trading systems to capture short-term movements while hedging against potential reversals.

USDCHF – The franc remains in consolidation, slightly below the 0.89431 mark. The MACD and RSI indicate growing strength for a potential continuation of buying momentum. Forex risk management strategies will be essential in managing the risks associated with potential breakouts.

USDCAD – The Canadian dollar shows increasing weakness against the U.S. dollar. The MACD is nearing a bullish crossover, signaling potential buying opportunities. Traders can leverage signal-based trading to track real-time data, capitalizing on upward movements and implementing Forex risk management strategies to protect their positions.

[goldstrats]

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Taylor Swift’s Eras Tour Grand Total: A Record $2 Billion

By Ben Sisario

For the last 21 months, Taylor Swift’s Eras Tour has been the biggest thing in music — a phenomenon that has engulfed pop culture, dominated news coverage and boosted local economies around the world.

Now we know exactly how big.

Through its 149th and final show, which took place in Vancouver, British Columbia, on Sunday, Swift’s tour sold a total of $2,077,618,725 in tickets. That’s two billion and change — double the gross ticket sales of any other concert tour in history and an extraordinary new benchmark for a white-hot international concert business.

Those figures were confirmed to The New York Times for the first time by Taylor Swift Touring, the singer’s production company. While the financial details of the Eras Tour have been a subject of constant industry speculation since tickets were first offered more than two years ago — through a presale so in-demand it crashed Ticketmaster’s system — Swift has never authorized disclosure of the tour’s numbers until now.

The official results are not far from the estimates that trade journalists and industry analysts have been crunching for months. But they solidify the enormous scale of Swift’s accomplishment. Just a few months ago, Billboard magazine reported that Coldplay had set an industry record with $1 billion in ticket sales for its 156-date Music of the Spheres World Tour — a figure that is just half of Swift’s total for a similar stretch of shows in stadiums and arenas.

Every date on the Eras Tour was sold out, and spare tickets were scalped at eye-popping prices — or traded within the protective Swiftie fan community, often at face value.

According to Swift’s touring company, a total of 10,168,008 people attended the concerts, which means that, on average, each seat went for about $204. That is well above the industry average of $131 for the top 100 tours around the world in 2023, according to Pollstar, a trade publication.

The biggest single night’s attendance was in Melbourne, Australia, on Feb. 16, 2024, with 96,006. And Swift’s eight nights at Wembley Stadium in London, which she played more than any other venue, drew 753,112 people — about as many as live in Seattle.

As gigantic as they are, the figures revealed by Swift’s company are only part of the overall business that has surrounded the tour. They exclude her extraordinary merchandise sales, for example, a product line so in demand that Swift opened stadium sales booths a day early in some markets to sell T-shirts, hoodies and Christmas ornaments to fans, ticketed or not.

And they do not count the secondary market of online ticket resellers. According to StubHub, the Eras Tour was the biggest-selling tour in the platform’s two-decade history, and last year it outsold Beyoncé’s shows by a factor of five. Another ticketing company, Victory Live, said the average price for resold tickets to the Eras Tour’s three Vancouver dates was $2,952. (Swift earned nothing from resold tickets.)

Beyond its numbers, the Eras Tour has been a mega-event that elevated the already-super-famous Swift to a new level, making her an epochal symbol of cultural saturation on the level of the Beatles in the 1960s or Michael Jackson in his ’80s prime. Swift’s every onstage utterance, outfit swap or offstage sighting was thoroughly documented, on social media and in the mainstream press, with news outlets big and small rushing to capture Swifties’ clicks. Online, fans tracked every tweak to the three-hour-plus set lists.

As the story of Swift’s tour took shape, it seemed to contain its own eras within it. First, in November 2022, came the ticket fiasco, when Ticketmaster was overwhelmed by what it said were 3.5 billion online requests for tickets, many from scalpers’ bots. The furor over those problems led to a Senate Judiciary hearing in January 2023, at which lawmakers from both parties openly called Ticketmaster’s corporate parent, Live Nation, a monopoly. (This year, the Justice Department filed an antitrust suit against Live Nation, calling for a breakup of the company.)

Then came the tour and the folkways that developed around it, like fans trading hand-assembled friendship bracelets. After the tour’s stop in Kansas City, Mo., a public flirtation between Swift and Travis Kelce, the star tight end of the Kansas City Chiefs, developed into a full-on romance, with the pop star and the football hunk sharing a field-level smooch after the Chiefs defeated the San Francisco 49ers at Super Bowl LVIII in February. The photographers definitely did not miss it.

In October 2023, she released “Taylor Swift: The Eras Tour,” a nearly three-hour concert film, released through a direct distribution deal with AMC Entertainment, the world’s largest theater operator. It sold about $93 million in tickets during its opening weekend, and ended up with $261 million in worldwide grosses, according to Box Office Mojo. The next step was a streaming deal with Disney+. A 256-page hardcover tour book, released last month through Target stores, sold 814,000 print copies in its first two days on sale.

As the tour moved to Europe in 2024, it narrowly avoided what could have been a major catastrophe when a terrorist bomb plot was uncovered before three planned shows in Vienna. Those events were canceled and never rescheduled.

Although Swift has largely avoided the news media during the tour, over time she has pulled back the curtain a bit to reveal some of how it came together. To prepare herself for the physical demands of the show, she trained for six months, with a cardio regimen that included singing the entire set list while running on a treadmill, she told Time magazine.

“I knew this tour was harder than anything I’d ever done before by a long shot,” the magazine quoted her as saying. “I finally, for the very first time, physically prepared correctly.”

The music video for “I Can Do It With a Broken Heart,” from her latest album, “The Tortured Poets Department” — her third release over the course of the tour, including two rerecorded versions of older albums — has behind-the-scenes clips confirming some of the stagecraft mechanics that fans have carefully cataloged on social media, like how she “dives” each night through a “hole” in the stage (onto a soft cushion held by crew members) and how she is ferried backstage in a dummy janitor’s cart.

The tour concludes just as Swift celebrates yet another win: “Tortured Poets” has returned to No. 1 on the Billboard 200 chart for a 16th week, with help from vinyl and CD sales of the 35-track “Anthology” edition of the album, which Swift released on Black Friday, also through Target. “Tortured Poets” is by far the biggest-selling album of the year so far.

Swift is up for six awards at the Grammys in February, including album of the year for “Tortured Poets” and both record and song of the year for one of its singles, “Fortnight.”

At a recent tour stop in Toronto, as the tour neared its end, Swift teared up as she delivered valedictory remarks to fans.

“My band, my crew, all my fellow performers,” she said, “we have put so much of our lives into this, and you put so much of your lives into being with us tonight and to giving us that moment that we will never forget.”

[lorelune]

scrap metal

|| blade x reader || M || captive reader x necrobiome blade || wc: 2.5k  || ao3 || -> continued here

Elio sends a new script. A scrap trades hands.

minors, antis, and ageless blogs dni

a/n: blade fic blade fic blade fic!!! this is a snippet of a larger au... stray reader and blade (and sometimes kafka too. bc. woof.) mind the tags as always <3 enjoy!!

CW: dark content, captive/pet reader, reader is implied to be a used for sex, violence, minor character death, reader wears a muzzle, descriptions of injury, beginnings yan blade

"Bladie," Kafka says, singsong. "Elio has a new script for us. Looks like we're picking up a stray." 

Blade, who has been inspecting his sword for the past three hours, looks up but does not say anything in reply. He wipes the metal, broken and refused, over with a cloth soaked in oil.  

Another script, another script, another script. Kafka will tell his thoughts to be quiet and he'll follow the script.  

He runs the cloth over the metal. Again 

"What do you mean by stray?" Silver Wolf pops her hip. She's already dressed up in what must be world-appropriate clothing— robes and tassels, sashes tied tightly around her waist  

"You'll see when we meet them." Kafka pats her head, then turns her attention to Blade. "Listen, we'll be leaving within the hour. There's a parcel with your clothing. Don't be late, dearest. I think you'll like this one." 

Blade is sure he won't care either way. A mission is a mission, a script is a script. Regardless, Kafka's words soothe the ever-itching beast in his mind, and he concedes to her gentle command. He hardly inspects the package and its contents before stripping (to which Silver Wolf runs off after gagging), though Kafka remains in the room to watch, amused. She eyes the scars on his body shamelessly as she always does. 

Blade does not care either way. 

... 

You are the stray. 

Blade first sees you, during what would most appropriately be called a 'business transaction', or at least a meeting made under the guise of being one. Kafka has him carry on a silver briefcase as they enter the stuffy, metal room their host had reserved for them. The air curls with tobacco smoke. 

Kafka settles in a plush chair. She dresses finely, regally, even. The long swathes of fabric stretch over her curves and breasts are fine, soft to the touch and smell of the sticky sweet incense that the denizens of the Aiel Lasha binary system covet. Blade is dressed similarly, posed at her back. He does not care how he is dressed. 

He has read the script, up to a point. Just before leaving their home vessel, Kafka darkened the screen of his phone and forbade him from reading to its end. She told him, with a wink, "Listen, just follow my lead, okay?" She sealed her request with a kiss on his cheek, which he bore. He follows her order without question. 

The man they sit across from has you at his feet, kneeling on the gilded, bronzy flooring. (It must be hot.) There's a metal muzzle over your mouth, with slits only cut under the curve of your nose to breathe. It looks cruel but well-crafted. The metal gleams like itas been recently polished. (It must be very hot.) Your eyes are dulled, trained to the floor as the man pets you. 

"The Stellaron Hunters," he whistles and folds two of his hands together. One of the others from his lower set of arms reaches out to pet your hair. Perhaps not petting, more like tugging. Manicured nails dig roughly into your scalp. Blade can see the way you almost wince, almost rise to react, but settle in yourself. “I must say, I’m not entirely looking forward to this meeting. I’m well aware of what you lot tend to bring in your wake.” 

Kafka tilts her head, ever-confident, "Then, thank you for meeting today." 

“How could I not? Your offer is simply too lucrative not to entertain, though you must know that. You know how too...” 

The conversation drones on. The man is laying it on thick with Kafka. Silver Wolf, per the script, needs thirty-two minutes and forty-seven seconds to take down the solar system’s crypto-economic framework. Something about obliterating this planet's economic viability, disrupting in-galaxy trade, and crippling the two-star system for the next several millennia. "baby stuff", Silver Wolf had said, before taking a quantum ferry down to the planet's surface. 

Blade only half-listens to the current exchange, and counts the seconds before this excruciating ordeal can be done with.  

The man pets you more and more aggressively as Kafka swerves his advances. Whatever faux ‘deal’ she cooked up was being superseded by the man’s obvious lust. Kafka is used to such things, even if it's foolish.  

The man takes his frustration out on you. He yanks your hair and you squeeze your eyes shut. Your shoulders shake. 

(Something twinges, deep in his chest. Something that should be dead, but can't die.) 

"How about this," Kafka lays a hand on Blade's lower back, almost startling him. "You give me that little scrap you've got by your knee, and we'll call it even. Everybody wins, hm?" 

The man's eyes widen, before he leans back, belting out a laugh and dragging you to him. He winds your hair around his fist, and pulls your body up, over his lap. Your scramble to straddle him. Eyes dead. Lost. Almost vacant. 

The man grabs your cheeks in between one palm and squeezes over the metal of your muzzle. The others grope your waist, slipping under your gossamer sheer robes. They're hardly clothes at all, Blade realizes. Just sheets of thin, hardly-there fabric. He can see the shadow of your body underneath. Blade itches in his skin. 

"I'm afraid I can't accommodate that request, kind Kafka. This 'scrap' gave me such... trouble," your eyes scrunch, and the muzzle shifts over your mouth. "When I first acquired them. Training them was a hardship, but they're my most obedient thing now. I can't let my hard work go, just for a business deal, can I? You must understand." 

His eyes shift to Blade, regarding him fully for the first time since they entered. 

It’s not the first time he’s been regarded as something lesser and subservient. Hardly. It does not bother him. Not usually. And yet, he jolts and almost summons Shard Sword, but Kafka stops him with an arm, extended at his waist. 

"My companion is not trained, nor does he need to be. He’s a lovely tool, but he has his own two feet." Kafka says. "You really only speak in insults, don't you?" 

The man goes red in the face, and the arms around you constrict. You clearly try to steel yourself. You are trained. Poor thing. But there's only so much you can take.  

The man’s form changes... bursts, seemingly in anger. He is almost melting, half-corporeal as his hold on you becomes tighter. Like a lasso drawn too snuggly over your tummy. 

There's an audibly sickening snap (nothing Blade isn't familiar with, yet why—?), and your eyes blow wide. Alight. Awake. You shove against the man but sink into his oozing flesh. Your muzzle shifts over your face, panic in your eyes. 

The man roars something in a tongue Blade doesn't know and a wet looking... hand, more than likely, slaps across your cheek. He grips over your muzzle, liquid flesh clogging the air slits in the muzzle. 

Blade begins his count. 

"What a tantrum." Kafka sighs, stands, and stretches. "I thought you really liked that 'thing', yet you treat them so roughly." 

Thirty-two minutes and ten seconds 

"They like to struggle, I assure you. I made sure they do." the man says. Blade doubts that. "Besides, I do not need your judgments. I heard you were a wretched woman. I know of your calamities." 

Thirty-two minutes and twenty-two seconds. 

"And yet, you invited me all the way down to your planet for a silly deal you don't have the currency or sway to accept. Pretty bold move." 

Thirty-two minutes and thirty-five seconds. 

The man sputters, something like an excuse, who knows or cares. you struggle in his arms, a few more snaps of bone. Your shoulder may be dislocated. Blade could pop it back into place easily.  

Thirty-two minutes and forty-five seconds. 

The last thing Blade had been able to read on the script was the crashing of the ion grid after Silver Wolf's hack. Everything else from there is in Kafka's hands. Things are clearly going to plan as an alarm begins to blare, screens and projections go alight in the room. Disaster, disaster, disaster. Destruction and all. 

The man shoots them a look, enraged, and the dripping lump of his hand wraps around your throat.  

(The thing in Blade writhes. Violence does not phase him. It shouldn’t. It hasn’t been in a long... long time, right? He remembers— maybe?) 

Kafka draws her weapon and shoots the man in between the eyes. Or what's left of them. Blood and electricity shoot from the wound, spattering over your face.  

You flinch with it and shriek. You scramble away from his body once it melts to the ground in a puddle. You paw at the muzzle, trying to clear the clogged air slits. Kafka, however, is faster and more efficient. She's kneeling by your side in moments, brushing away remnants of a dead man from the muzzle. Blade follows at her heels. 

"Oh dear," she coos, soft and easy. "Let's get this off of you, hm?" 

You shake your head and push at Kafka. You do not know her. This is logical. 

Who is this stray? Blade only thinks to ask that now, but keeps his mouth shut as Kafka cows you enough to let her touch you. There's the whirring of sirens just outside. 

"Bladie, dearest, a hand please?" Kafka urges him and taps the clasp of the muzzle. A platinum lock keeps it flush to your face. more than flush, really. Painfully tight. 

Blade takes the lock in between two (shaking, arthritic ) fingers and crushes the mechanism. He pulls it off you a moment later—  gently— 

(When was the last time he was gentle?) 

Kafka unsticks it from your cheeks, and you let out a gasping breath now that your mouth is free. There are indentations across your jaw, cuts, and wounds all over you, now that Blade looks closely. 

Kafka does, too. She traces an angry-looking scar over your clavicle as you leer away, lip wobbling, "Oh, Bladie, look. You match. How cute." 

You try to say something, but your voice is nothing but a wisp of sound. Your throat must be so dry. Or maybe your voice is unused? Probably both, now that he thinks of it. You look to be in horrible shape— neglected. A stray. 

(Something in him screams. His consciousness is too fragmented and corrupted to trace the origin, other than that it is recessed. A dormant urge, yawning awake at the sight of a scared little thing. Yingxing— Blade— does not care to know. He knows the heat of a forge and the way flesh melts around molten metal and the swift flourish of a blade. He does not know the feeling growing in his chest like a lush rot. Birthed maggots crawling between his ribs. A fungus bloom on the inside of his lungs.) 

His dilemma is so swiftly interrupted. Kafka smacks the butt of her gun against your temple before you can panic any further, and you slump forward into her. Your cheek rests on the cushion of her breast, and Kafka looks pleased. She pets over your hair for a moment and shushes you. There's no need to, you're limp and still. But Kafka does anyway. Blade is unsure why. 

Blade is jealous— maybe. 

Kafka presses a kiss to your forehead, then turns her focus to him, pin-prick gaze all on him, "Could you, Bladie?" 

He complies. 

Blade throws you over his shoulder just as Silver Wolf arrives, dropping down from a vent in the ceiling. This is not necessary, but Silver Wolf likes the flare of these things sometimes. Some days, he thinks it's almost— 

(Endearing.) 

Maybe he needs Kafka to wipe his memory again. 

"All wrapped up?" Kafka asks with a smile. 

"Yup." Silver Wolf unwraps a sucker from their last mission and pops it in her mouth. It's bright green. Her mouth will stain. "The system is irreparable at this point. The infrastructure will be fried too." 

"Perfect, Elio will be delighted," Kafka hums. "Let's get back, then. We have a new pet to settle in." 

"Wait, we're keeping them? Actually?" Silver Wolf circles Blade, studying your slack features and bruised cheeks. "Why is their face like that?" 

"They were wearing a muzzle." Blade answers. Silver Wolf looks shocked that he replied. 

(Blade does not see the way Kafka is looking at him. Conniving, smitten, and so utterly pleased with herself.) 

"Gross." Silver Wolf scowls. 

"Let's get them home, then." Kafka walks lazily to the balcony, taking out her phone to presumably dial Sam and their transport. "Our new pet needs a good bath and a hot meal. Some care, don't you think?" 

Kafka flashes a look to Blade. Something in him twists. 

It makes him aware of you, over his shoulder. You're soft in a way he isn't used to. He's carried many bodies over his shoulder many times at the behest of Kafka. Those were flesh weighs to him. Dead and still. You feel alive to him. The thump of your heart, the pressure of your chest and your breath against him. He can feel the way the fat and flesh of your body curve around him. How you mold to him, naturally. 

It’s familiar, almost? It reminds him of— 

"Listen, let's get going. You can play with them later, once we find out if they bite or not. They may need their shots." Kafka says. Blade cannot tell if she's joking. 

Silver Wolf snorts a laugh regardless. 

And... who's to say if Blade ruminates longer than usual as they board the sky ferry back up to their ship. The alarms and sirens drone on as they ascend, idling in the cockpit as they debrief with Elio's emissary. 

Blade has not set you down. 

He runs a hand up the back of your leg, high up your thigh, squeezing flesh along the way. He drags his nails over your skin on the way back down, and you stir with a whine. Kafka looks at him, knowingly as usual, and guides him to your... room. It should be a cell, probably, but it’s not. 

(Kafka had prepared, it seemed. The room has been decorated, softened, with a plush bed replacing the cheap cot that reeked like petroleum and acrylic. Instead, there’s a gentle, floral scent. The bathroom looks freshened, with a bathtub big enough for two.) 

(There are seven locks on the door.) 

"Listen, set them down, Bladie. Nice and steady." 

Blade does as is directed. You grumble and groan, pressing your face into the sheets.  

"I'll fetch some medicine, hm? You stay with them. Greet them. Be good, alright?" Kafka says with a grin in her voice. 

Blade is not good. He is something awful. 

A high-pitched, breathy sound leaks from your throat as you fumble for the rising lump on your forehead. 

Blade is not good. He does not know how to be good. But he... he wants. He will— be something for you. Maybe it'll be poison, or maybe he will learn the language of the roiling, human thing in his chest that he can't believe still breathes. 

Blade shushes you and rubs over the scar on your collarbone with his thumb. You quiet beneath him, and Blade swears you almost turn into his touch. 

Kafka was right, you do match. 

[prncssie]

minors mdni

hobie is just so needy today.

it really is his fault but it’s driving you up the wall. he’s the one who insisted on tagging along with you but now he wants to complain. you’re not giving him enough attention, you’re not shopping fast enough, you’re not leaving soon enough. it’s all because of that damn chocolate.

you’re an innocent bystander in all this, for once. he’s the one who discovered it and the one who bought it. originally, he did try to attempt you to try it with him but you flat out refused.

you’re too busy, having to work long hours for the next few days. the last thing you want is some mysterious aphrodisiac running through your system.

hobie has all the time in the world, though. because he doesn’t work a conventional job he figured he’d be the perfect subject. especially after you told him just how doubtful you were.

there is just dozens of products claiming to do the same, both cheaper and expensive. to you, aphrodisiacs are just another scam for the touch starved. never did you think the king of physical affection himself would introduce it into your relationship.

that was a mere few hours ago. now, he’s tugging at your sweater. he will not let you go for more than five seconds without him feeling you up. every time you find yourself stopping to flip through the clothing rack, hobie’s hands are wandering over your body.

“stop it,” you push his hands away from your body for the umpteenth time. this time, they’ve wandered underneath your shirt, fingers dancing across your skin.

the last time you gave him the benefit of the doubt, he’d nearly unclipped your bra.

from an outside perspective, hobie is doting on you with his arms wrapped around you and his head resting on your shoulders. only you know how he squeezes at your tummy and laps the skin on your neck.

“hobart,” you sneer. you’re tempted to push him away from you completely.

that gets him. he hesitates, but only for a second. the shock of his government name leaving your lips doesn’t stop him for long. he’s too far gone, too deep in thinking with his dick. “call me that again and i’ll shove my whole dick in you right now.”

“try it. i’ll kill you, then myself.” you push a hanger on, passing up another skirt. you’re doing your best to make the most of what you have. this is supposed to be a relaxing little treat to yourself for all your hard work. instead, you’re fighting to keep hobie away from you.

you’re only successful for two more seconds before he’s back at it, trying to undress you in public. he tells you he can’t help it. you just look too good and smell too sweet. he’s intoxicated off the strawberry poundcake perfume you’re wearing and the way your ass looks in your jeans.

he pushes against you. groaning into your ear when he fits so snugly against you. the chocolate really has him on fire. just hearing your voice has precum leaking. he’s already addicted to you without it. with it, he’s convinced he’s ready to have baby now. “come on, ☆. let’s just go home. i’ll bring you back tomorrow.”

“baby, i can’t. i work tomorrow.” you untangle your limbs. in the end, you decide it’s better to be separate. he can’t control himself and you can’t control him.

it’s to no avail. just as quickly as you find yourself finally free from his grip, he’s pulling you back into his chest. “okay. then the next day.” he digs his nose into your scalp. the smell of your black vanilla shampoo turns him nearly animalistic

meanwhile, you’re suffocating in his loose black crop top. you wouldn’t care if the corset underneath wasn’t squishing your face. “still can’t. i have class.” you have to lift your head, much to his dismay.

one look at you changes that. it’s a fair trade, he rationalizes with a hungry stare. “okay? then skip it or some shit. i don’t care.” his hands dip down rather quickly. he gropes and grabs, despite your quiet shriek.

“get offa’ me.” you all but shove him, head whipping around to check if anyone saw. you’re lucky the mall is deserted so early in the morning on a weekday. the run of the mill teenagers are busy in class. “i swear to god if you do that again i’ll grind you into dust.” you point a finger at him but you’re sure you don’t look threatening at all.

he reaches for you again, scowling when you narrowly dodge him. “promise?” hobie quips with an annoying raise of his brow. his voice drops to a whisper when he finally catches you and tugs you close. “you can’t even suck me off in the dressing room?”

your face is burning with a fire you’ve never felt before. where he got the confidence to say such words, you have no idea. in public, at that! “are you actually serious?” you pinch the tips of your ears. sure enough, they’re warm with humiliation. does he have no shame?”

oh he’s serious all right. he’s so serious he drags you off to the dressing rooms himself. thanks to his lifelong experience in breaking laws and the learned creeping that comes with living a double life, he slips right by the employees with no problems.

he’s careless, bumping all against the walls, in a rush to lock the door behind you. you’ve never seen him this eager before. sure, during your usual times he’s excited. but right now, he’s nearly cumming before you’re doing anything.

“you’re sure you wanna do this? you really wanna? right here?” you’re quieter than usual, feeling as if it’s required while you’re sneaking around.

“the more you ask me, the longer this will take.” even the way he requests for you to shut up isn’t the same. there is no threat backing up his words, even when he closes the space between you.

you’re curious. some chocolate had your usually composed boyfriend like this? you’re not going to lie to yourself and pretend his change in behavior doesn’t make you feel some type of way.

usually it’s you shaking with need and making a mess everywhere. never have you had this much power in your relationship. if you weren’t on a time crunch and in the privacy of your home, you would have definitely taken your time with him. “you’re the one who needs me. i’ll change my mind.”

“please don’t play with me, right now. i ate the whole fucking square and i swear to – if you don’t do something, i’ll suck it myself.” he’s so frantic to remove the layers of silver belts, it takes him nearly twice as long. you aid him, taking pity. it’s you so many times on that end of the stick. even though you’ve never eaten an aphrodisiac, having hobie as your boyfriend is enough.

you giggle when hobie shuffles toward you, pants hanging loosely. he doesn’t share your sentiment. apparently, nothing about this is funny. he doesn’t argue back. just pops his dick in your face.

your wrap your fingers around the base and already, he’s groaning. for once he has to brace himself against you, hands resting in your shoulders.

“y’know you have to be quiet right?” you glance up at him. you test his reactions with slow jerks of your wrist. you don’t really need to when he’s already this worked up but it’s nice to the one causing the soft sighs.

his breath fans over your face and warms your cheeks. between his glistening shaft and his tightly wounded face, you don’t know where to look. “don’t let this, fuck. don’t let this go to your head.”

it’s far too late for that but you don’t tell him. you just smile to yourself instead and swirl your tongue around his tip. you’re teasing, he knows, but he honestly doesn’t care. his senses are heightened so much this feels like enough.

jokes on him, hobie is unprepared when you do begin to swallow him. he shocks himself when he gasps and pushes your head away. it’s so uncharacteristic of him that even he is embarrassed about it. “shit, baby. could have said something first.” he feels pathetic avoiding your gaze and even more so he meets his own in the mirror.

you shake your head, tongue darting out to lick the slightly salty remnants off your lips. “you don’t get to annoy me all day and push me away.” it would be unfair if you didn’t enjoy this, right? it’s only right after all he’s put you through. you owe it to him to leave him shaking.

he’s just about to chastise you and defend his honor when you’re right where you started. this time, however, you’re forcing yourself to take as much as you can.

hobie is constantly bumping against your throat with the way you’re bobbing your head. tears prickle your eyes and occasionally you gag but it’s all worth it. all when his hand is flying to cover his mouth and the other one has a grip on your hair.

contrary to popular belief, he isn’t forcing your head down but pulling your head away. he’s far more sensitive than he thought, too sensitive for his own good.

his hand is barely sufficient to keep his cries to a minimum, alternating between telling you to stop and to keep going.

your nails dig into his skin, being your main defense from being yanked off. you only stop to come up for air. your thumb circles around his tip with enough pressure to have him shuddering. your breath fans over his skin when you press wet kisses along his shaft.

“baby,” hobie speaks with his clenched in a fist, knuckles in his mouth. it serves as a warning. his brain is too far incapacitated to form sentences.

“if you’re gonna cum, do it in my mouth.” you mumble, words ghosting over him. it’s embarrassing enough to be giving him a blowjob in the mall dressing room. the last thing you want is cum stains littering your top.

it only takes his dick being enveloped in the warmth of your mouth for him to be shooting out thick ropes. hobie whines, using the hold he has on your hair to pull you off.

you wait until his eyes are on you to make a show out of swallowing his load, mouth opening to display the disappearing evidence.

it’s probably a mistake on your part when you physically see the hunger return in his face with a vengeance.

“fuck that was hot. let’s go home and do it again.”

your eyes nearly bulge out of your head. “what?” you don’t understand how he can already be thinking of another round when he was just griping about his sensitivity. “but what about me? i want to stay.” you watch him scramble to redress himself, accessories and all. your eyebrows knit together because there is no way some chocolate can do this.

“i’ll bring you back tomorrow,” he insists, pulling you to your feet. whatever secrecy you still have is thrown out the window when he pushes the door open with enough force to have it ricocheting off the wall.

“but i can’t. i have work, remember?” you cup the back of your head as he leads you through the store, right to the exit. you didn’t have time to fix your hair. he’s been so inconsiderate, it’s not fair.

“okay then we’ll go the next day.”

“ ‘bie, i have class – ” you really have to look at what they put in this stuff.

“then fuckin’ skip it. i don’t care.”

[monsterdrama]

A Fool's Errand

Cad bane X Oc / Reader insert

This takes place after the Deception arc

Chapter one: The Incident

Imprisoned for a crime they didn't commit, one inmate is caught between a rock and a hard place. In the Republic Central Judiciary Detention Center, survival is a game, and the stakes are life and death.

The Republic Central Judiciary Detention Center loomed, a monolith of transparisteel that stood against the Coruscant sky. A gilded cage for the galaxy’s most undesirable, and I’d managed to secure myself a life sentence within its walls, all thanks to a bastard named Sod Sharrd. 

His name was like salt in a fresh wound.

It had all gone sideways so fast. I hadn’t even known what we were hauling. Sharrd was always tight-lipped about his work, and I’d been too foolish, too desperate for credits, to ask. Then, suddenly, Republic security forces were swarming us. Blasters blazing, alarms screaming, the whole nine parsecs. Sharrd, that slimy worm, vanished like a mynock in daylight, leaving me holding the bag—or rather, the crate. A crate containing one thousand kilograms of spice ripped straight from a Republic shipment. One thousand kilos! Enough to keep Nar Shaddaa high for a year.

The trial was a farce. They paraded me through the courtroom like some hutt kingpin, the holo-record of the seized spice shimmering above me like a toxic halo. My frantic pleas of ignorance, my desperate attempts to explain Sharrd’s double-cross, fell on deaf ears. A thousand kilos. Just having that much in my possession was enough to put me away for life. No prior charges, no mitigating circumstances, just a life sentence.

The first few rotations were a chaotic blurb. I was shoved through processing, stripped bare. The clone guards moved with a practiced efficiency that spoke of countless repetitions. The constant hum of the security systems, the echoing footsteps in the corridors, the metallic tang of the recycled air—it was a sensory assault. And then came the shearing. The cold blade against my scalp, the sudden lightness of my head—it felt less like a procedure and more like a punishment to keep me in line, to show that I was no longer a person, but a number within these walls. 

three standard months in, and I was suffocating. For a facility this size, the lack of diversions was appalling. Cells, mess hall, exercise equipment—eat, sleep, sweat, repeat It was a convict's life, plain and simple.

Within the prison walls, rumors were currency, traded and consumed like contraband spice, the lifeblood of this isolated world. Keeping up with rumors and the latest gossip was that only chance of keeping your head above water in a big pond like this. 

The latest whispers concerned the recent mess hall riot and escape,  and the name “Cad Bane” was on everyone’s lips. Bane’s arrival a week prior had electrified the prison. Apparently, this wasn’t his first visit, nor his first escape .

The mess hall was a seething with hungry convicts, all clamoring for today’s meal: green goo. Yesterday’s gray sludge had been equally appetizing. I held my tray under the automated dispenser, the resulting glop resembling something a sick tooka would leave on a rug. Suddenly, I feel a heavy, scaled hand land on my shoulder as a Karkarodon pushes his way in front of me.

"Outta my way, shrimp," he growled, his voice a low rumble that vibrated through the floor. His grip on my shoulder tightened, the pressure like the crushing jaws of an anooba. He sent me stumbling backward, colliding heavily with the Weequay behind me. The Weequay's tray, laden with the same dubious green goo, flew upwards, splattering across his chest and face. The metal tray clattered to the durasteel floor with a resounding clang.

An abrupt silence descended over the mess hall. The cacophony of noise died in an instant, replaced by a tense, expectant quiet. Every eye in the hall seemed to bore into my back. The Weequay, his face now a mask of dripping green, glared at me with undisguised fury. This was my cue to vanish. I mumbled an apology, my voice barely a whisper, and slipped sideways out of the line, melting into the throng of inmates. Thankfully, the clone guards patrolling the mess hall were on high alert. No one in their right mind would risk a full-blown brawl under their watchful gaze—not unless they had a death wish, or a fondness for solitary confinement.

A nearly empty table beckoned from the far side of the mess hall. I slinked towards it, hoping to blend into the background and avoid any further attention. As I got closer, I noticed three figures seated at the table: a Duros, a human, and a Trandoshan. They were huddled together, their voices low and conspiratorial. I tried to tune them out, but fragments of their conversation drifted over to me: “…big plan…need blasters…” Damn it. Trouble was the last thing I needed. I edged even further away from the table, my appetite vanishing as quickly as it had appeared. I tried to focus on the unappetizing glop on my tray, attempting to shovel it down without gagging.

Then it hit me. There was a reason everyone avoided this table. Glancing at the human, I recognized him as the kid who’d sparked the riot: Boba Fett. He’d been here much longer than me, and for his age, had a fearsome reputation. It was a depressing sight seeing a kid in a place like this, but he always had that hulking Trandoshan, Bossk, at his side. No one would mess with him with the big reptilian brawler glued to him. 

My gaze drifted to the Duros. My blood ran cold. His piercing red eyes met mine, and a jolt of recognition shot through me. His face was a mask of concentration, etched with harsh lines. A scar ran beneath his left eye. He looked…familiar. Then the realization crashed over me like a tidal wave. That was Cad Bane, and I’d just crashed his little party.

Bane cleared his throat, the sound a sharp, rasping croak, and jerked his head to the side. "Get lost," he spat, his voice low and dangerous, a clear command, not a polite request. I glanced around. Several inmates were now watching, their eyes gleaming with anticipation. I looked back at my tray, feigning indifference, hoping he’d just let it go.

His hand slammed down in front of my tray, making me jump. "Do I have to spell it out for you, punk?" he sneered, his face inches from mine. "What part of 'get lost' aren't you getting?" Before I could react, Bane snatched my tray and, in one swift, humiliating motion, upended it. The vile, gelatinous goo cascaded down on me, coating me.The stench, a sickly sweet and vaguely chemical aroma, filled my nostrils. 

"There ya go," Bane chuckled, a cruel glint in his eyes. "Now you can take your food to go."

A wave of harsh laughter erupted from the surrounding tables, echoing through the mess hall. Raw, animalistic howls punctuated the mockery. I sat there, stunned, dripping with the repulsive glop, the humiliation washing over me in waves. 

marketing me as an easy target.

Rage, hot and blinding, erupted inside me. Who did he think he was? In a swift, impulsive move, I grabbed the tray from Banes hand, and slammed it right in his face. The clash of metal echoed through the hall, silencing the surrounding noise.

For a split second, Bane looked stunned, his red eyes widening slightly. A gash now bled freely across his cheekbone, a deep line of green seeped from his scarred skin. Then, the shock gave way to something far more terrifying: hot, animalistic fury. The mirth vanished, replaced by a look of pure, unadulterated murder. His eyes, now burning with a cold, predatory light, locked onto mine.

Before I could react, he pounced on me,  my skull cracked against the floor. My vision blurred. I struggled, but he was stronger than he looked. He pressed me down, his hands closing around my throat, his grip a vise. His blood, a metallic tang, dripped onto my face. His cold, predatory eyes locked onto mine. He was going to kill me.

“Stupid brat,” he hissed.

gasping for air, I clawed at his hands, my fingernails scraping uselessly against his scaled skin. My vision swam, the mess hall lights blurring into a single, blinding orb. Panic clawed at me, a cold fist squeezing my heart. I was going to die here, choked to death on the dirty floor. No amount of kicking and thrashing seems to deter him. I try to push at his ribs then a memory hits me like a ton of bricks.Sod was a duos and he had glands on his ribs that were extremely sensitive.

  I twisted beneath Bane, my eyes fixed on the discarded fork lying a few inches away. With a surge of adrenaline, I reached for it, my fingers scraping against the gritty floor. My body writhing like a trapped animal. Finally, I grasped it, the medial cold and clammy in my sweaty hand.

I lunged, putting all my strength behind the thrust. The fork, gripped tightly in my hand, stabbed upwards, aiming for Bane's ribs. Caught off guard by the sudden, desperate attack, Bane let out a guttural roar, a sound of pain and surprise. The fork found its mark, sinking deep into the sensitive flesh beneath his ribs.

Bane's expression twisted in agony. His grip on my throat loosened, and he staggered back, clutching at his side, his fingers closing around the fork protruding from his flesh. For a split second, he seemed vulnerable, his face contorted in a mask of pain.A dark, greenish blood seeped through the orange fabric of his jumpsuit. With a grunt of effort, Bane yanked the fork from his side, the metal scraping against bone. He stared at the bloodied prongs for a moment, his eyes narrowed, before his gaze snapped back to mine, now burning with an even more intense fury.

In that instant, Bane recovered. He lunged, his fist connecting with my jaw. The world exploded. The taste of blood filled my mouth. I staggered back, disoriented.

"Finish him, Bane!" a gruff voice yelled from the crowd that had gathered in a circle around us.

He lunged again, a snarl twisting his lips. I ducked, rolling across the floor, narrowly avoiding the blow. Spilled goo and grime coated my skin as I scrambled back to my feet, my heart pounding a frantic rhythm against my ribs. Bane, still reeling slightly from his missed strike and the pain in his side, his red eyes blazing with murderous intent, was on me again.

"That one's fast for a little shrimp," someone muttered.

This time, I didn't wait for him to attack. As he lunged, I met him with a sharp, brutal kick aimed at his bleeding ribs. He grunted, his breath catching in his throat. I kicked again, and again, the force of my blows landing squarely on the injured flesh. He staggered back, his face contorted in a mask of pain and rage. For a moment, I thought I had him.

But Bane was far from defeated. With a roar of fury, he lunged, grabbing my leg mid-kick. His grip was like iron, his scaled fingers digging into my flesh. I cried out in pain, but before he could capitalize on his advantage, I twisted my body, using his momentum against him. I wrenched my leg free, spinning behind him in a swift, fluid motion. My arms snaked around his broad shoulders, locking his elbows against his back. He bucked and twisted, a caged rancor fighting to break free. His muscles bulged beneath my grip, and I could feel the raw power radiating from him. But I held on, my grip tightening, fueled by a desperate surge of adrenaline.

"Whoa! Look at that!" a surprised voice exclaimed. "Shrimps got Bane in a hold!"

A commotion suddenly europe behind me I strained to look back, but the press of bodies and the dim cantina lighting made it impossible. A blur of motion, a glimpse of a guard's uniform before…

Electricity.

Raw, searing pain exploded through my body, jolting me like a struck animal. My grip on Bane loosened, his frame trashing free. I screamed, the sound swallowed by the din, and crumpled to the ground,my muscles convulsing uncontrollably.

Another jolt, more intense this time. The world narrowed, the edges of my vision flickering and fading. The crowd, the cafeteria, Bane himself – all dissolving into a dizzying kaleidoscope of colors. Then, darkness.

The rhythmic pulse of the vitals monitor dragged me back to consciousness, the harsh glare of the infirmary’s overhead lights burning my eyes. My head throbbed in protest, a dull, persistent ache that resonated with each beep. An AZ medical droid, its chrome chassis gleaming under the unforgiving light, hovered nearby, its multi-jointed limbs whirring softly as it manipulated a datapad. The droid’s photoreceptors swiveled towards me as my vital signs stabilized.

“Ah, good. You are awake,” Its metallic voice rang. 

metallic fingers danced across the datapad for a few moments, logging data and running diagnostics. Finally, it set the device aside, its unwavering gaze fixed on me. 

“You have sustained a concussion, a minor fracture of the mandible, and multiple contusions. Observation in the infirmary for one to two standard diurnal cycles is recommended.”

The droid’s clinical assessment brought a wave of relief, but that relief was quickly swallowed by the return of vivid, painful memories. The cafeteria. Bane.The electrostaff. The images flashed through my mind like a holo-reel gone haywire, each frame a jolt of pain and regret. My hand instinctively went to my jaw, gingerly probing the swelling.

‘Well, well. Look who's finally awake," Bane chuckled from across the room, the sound low and gravelly, like rocks grinding together. My blood ran cold. Oh god. They'd roomed us together. My gaze darted to him. He was watching me, a predatory glint in his red eyes, a smirk playing on his scarred lips. He was no longer in the orange jumpsuit, but the sight of him, even under the sterile lights of the infirmary, sent a fresh wave of fear through me. I swallowed hard, trying to dislodge the lump of dread that had formed in my throat. This was a nightmare.

The thin sheet did little to ward off the chill of the infirmary, or the intensity of Cad Bane’s glare. Sitting up in the cot, I could see him across the room, his eyes like chips of flint.. Whose brilliant idea was it to keep two inmates who’d nearly killed each other in the same room? It was a volatile mix, a thermal detonator with a loose wire.

 Bane was no longer clad in the standard-issue neon orange prison fatigues. The thin blanket draped across his lower body did little to conceal the lean, wiry musculature beneath. Scars, like pale lightning strikes, etched his skin, a testament to a life lived on the edge of a blaster’s flash. His chest was a grotesque tapestry of contusions, the purple and green bruising stark against the stark white of the bacta bandages. 

My stomach clenched, bile rising in my throat. I swallowed hard, trying to suppress the urge to retch as I became acutely aware of my own state of undress. Clad only in thin underthings, I was exposed, vulnerable under Bane’s scrutiny. I felt his gaze drop from my face, lingering on my body. A flush of heat crept up my neck, a stark counterpoint to the icy dread that settled in my stomach. I instinctively clutched the sheet tighter, drawing it up to my neck, a pathetic attempt to shield myself from his  gaze.

“Creep,” I spat, drawing my knees up to my chest.

A slow, predatory grin spread across his weathered features, etching deeper lines into his already craggy face. He shifted on his cot, the metal frame groaning in protest as he moved closer. His expression was unreadable, a mask of cold, calculating indifference.

“That was a cheap shot you pulled in thare,” he drawled, his voice a low, gravelly rasp, like rocks grinding against each other. “Don’t go around thinking’ you’re some big shot now.” He inhaled sharply, the air between us crackling with barely contained menace. “No one messes with Cad Bane.”

I scoffed, forcing a bravado I didn’t feel. “Oh really? You look worse than I do, old man.”

Bane leaned forward, his eyes narrowed to slits. “I wouldn’t be so confident if I was you,” he hissed . “I’ll be out of this place soon enough, then you’ll be sorry.”

A shiver snaked down my spine, a visceral reaction to the raw power that radiated from him, even in his injured state. He was a force of nature, a predator temporarily caged but far from broken. I knew, with a chilling certainty, that he wouldn’t let this go. He was the type to harbor grudges, to let them fester until the moment he could strike.

But I refused to show him any sign of weakness. I had faced him once, and I had survived. I could do it again. 

“We’ll see about that,” I retorted, my voice surprisingly steady despite the tremor of fear that ran through me.

Bane regarded me for a long moment, his eyes assessing, calculating, like a hunter gauging the strength of its prey. Then, his attention snapped to the sudden hiss of the sliding door breaking the tense silence. Two clone troopers, their faces obscured by their helmets, stood in the doorway, their blasters held at the ready. 

“Inmate 1479,” one of the troopers said, his voice flat and modulated, “you are cleared to return to your cell.”

“Let’s go,” the other added, his tone equally devoid of emotion.

As Bane was being escorted from the room, he paused, turning his head slightly towards me. His eyes, cold and predatory, locked onto mine. "You better watch your back from now on" he hissed, his voice a low, menacing growl.

I might have just waded into a rancor pit without a vibroblade.

[googleblogs123]

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[bkyngw]

wow thanks to all of you who gave me [checks notes] 20 notes on my fucked up fantasy magical system post with my doomed old man yaoi couple. im glad you like My Guys.

Under the cut are clearer notes that I transcribed including additional information. I admit this is a First Draft kind of list and not 100% set in stone, mostly trying to brainstorm ideas and i will eventually refine it to fit the story i want to tell.

BRIDES

Also referred to as “Dolls” as a pejorative.

According to the biggest religion, they are individuals who are “chosen” by god to become vessels of magic power.

Brides become physically indestructible and immortal. Their body stops growing/changing at the age they are Chosen except for their hair (on their scalp) which continues growing and also cannot be damaged/cut. This is how ages of Brides are usually visually determined

Brides cannot hear any human voice except for their Spouse, and become mute.

They are tied to a handler, or “Spouse/Husband” in order to be able to regulate their power or else they will die. A Bride refusing to get married and dying is considered heretical since they are seen as they are seen as “wasting their gift from god.”

Brides are compelled to follow orders from their Spouse.

The High Church are the only ones who can officiate “Marriages” to bind Brides to their Spouses. (Or are they…?)

Brides are very rare. 1-2 pop up every century on average (author's note: i am still deciding on the frequency)

Selection of Brides are arbitrary based on ethnicity or location, but the average age people get chosen is between 15-25, mostly women. Occasionally men, and that opens a whole other bag of homophobic worms.

Male Brides are usually married into the Church (re:the pope) as to not challenge patriarchal norms. There are specific circumstances where Male Brides are sublimated into a “women”’s role but thats not usually desirable

Asa and Theo’s Marriage is a Hot Political Opinion Topic among general society

this world/region is “culturally” this religion, so Chosen Marriages heavily influence what is expected of normal marriages (PATRIARCHY 2: ELECTRIC BOOGALOO!!)

Other religions exist, but they’re either results from schisms (Re: Catholics vs Protestants) or basically discriminated against/ wiped out

The general unspoken opinion is that once Chosen, Brides are no longer human but basically objects that people use for power/utility/status/war

Bride abuse is extremely common and normalized.

Very difficult to kill a Bride, however they will die if they eventually run out of magic (Their Half-life is extremely long), killed with a rare enchanted weapon specifically for Killing Brides, or a Secret third thing (!).

Married Brides are usually passed down through generations of the Spouses’ family. It is highly unlikely a Bride will be traded off or given away UNLESS the family is under extreme pressure or forcibly taken.

If a spouse dies unexpectedly (murder/assassination/etc) before the above is formalized the Church will marry the Bride back into the Spouse’s family. This is to prevent assassinations among the privileged class to free up Brides for Marriage.

Brides from lower class families are usually taken from their homes by the Church and married off to Powerful families who contribute to the Church’s power. Dowries are usually paid to the family but it’s basically hush money.

If a Bride happens to be from a family with status they are usually married back into their family.

Reasons why Asa and Theo’s Marriage is considered “progressive”:

Asa is not from a highly wealthy or high-status family

Theo is from a well-off (but not High Status) family

Theo is a male Bride formally Married to a Spouse and not to the Church, and did not formally take a “women”’s role.

Asa and Theo’s dynamic is seen as unusual/deviant from this society’s expectations of Marriage; Asa gives Theo more agency than what Brides are usually afforded.

Asa and Theo’s Many Issues With The Church:

Theo is considered EXTREMELY POWERFUL by Bride standards.

The church and people in power are internally divided on their Marriage - some are waiting for Asa to die naturally so they can marry Theo into the church “Peacefully” and others want to excommunicate Asa or kill him to do it sooner. Some people want Theo's power for themselves.

Asa has had a couple attempts on his life in the past but they were unsuccessful.

Asa is sitting on the fact that Marriages are Basically a Fucking Lie Made Up To Oppress People which scares the church and also makes them mad. As far as anyone knows Asa and Theo's Marriage was officiated by the church but that is not true. How this develops is Spoilers, and would be revealed in their Story (lmao)

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[theecoshop]

The Eco Shop: Unveiling the Sustainable Side of Hair Care

Achieving beautiful hair often requires the use of traditional hair care products that come in plastic bottles and contain harsh chemicals. These products can negatively impact the environment by polluting waterways. However, it's becoming increasingly important to adopt a more sustainable approach to beauty. The Eco Shop is here to help you on your journey towards a more eco-friendly hair care routine.

This blog delves into the world of sustainable hair care products, exploring the benefits they offer for your hair and the planet. We'll also unveil some eco-friendly hair care essentials you can find at The Eco Shop!

Why Choose Sustainable Hair Care Products?

Sustainable hair care products prioritize the well-being of both your hair and the environment. Here are some key reasons to make the switch:

Minimize Plastic Waste: Traditional hair care products often come in plastic bottles, contributing significantly to plastic pollution. Sustainable alternatives, such as shampoo bars and refillable containers, significantly reduce plastic waste.

Embrace Natural Ingredients: Look for products formulated with natural and organic ingredients that are gentle on your scalp and hair. These ingredients are often biodegradable and less likely to harm the environment.

Protect Waterways: Conventional hair care products frequently contain harsh chemicals like sulfates and parabens. Sustainable alternatives often avoid these chemicals, reducing the amount of harmful pollutants entering our water systems.

Support Ethical Practices: Many sustainable hair care brands prioritize ethical sourcing and production practices. This can involve supporting fair trade practices and ensuring responsible harvesting of natural ingredients.

Sustainable Hair Care Essentials at The Eco Shop

The Eco Shop offers a curated selection of sustainable hair care products to cater to various hair types and needs. Here are some of our top picks:

Shampoo and Conditioner Bars: These concentrated bars offer a plastic-free alternative to traditional bottled shampoos and conditioners. They are typically long-lasting and easy to travel with. At The Eco Shop, we offer a variety of shampoo and conditioner bars formulated for different hair types, such as The Earthling Co. Shampoo Bar Promote Hair Growth Strengthen & Volumize All Hair Types (contains organic ingredients to promote hair growth and Volumize) and Kitsch Conditioner Bar Rice Water Protein, which is perfect for adding shine and bounce to dry hair. Beyond Products: Sustainable Hair Care Practices

In addition to using eco-friendly products, you can further reduce your environmental impact with some simple changes to your hair care routine:

Reduce Washing Frequency: Shampooing too often can strip your hair of its natural oils. Try extending the time between washes to promote scalp health and reduce water usage.

Embrace Air Drying: Skip the heat styling whenever possible. Air drying is gentler on your hair and reduces your energy consumption.

Cold Water Rinses: Finish your shower with a cold water rinse to lock in shine and reduce frizz. This simple step saves hot water. These small changes can make a big difference for the environment!

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Navigating the Markets: Unveiling the Diverse Landscape of Types of Traders in the Stock Market

The stock market is a dynamic arena where various players engage in buying and selling securities, aiming to capitalize on market movements and generate profits. Understanding the diverse Types of Traders in Stock Market operating in this financial landscape is crucial for both novice investors and seasoned professionals alike. In this article, we will delve into the intricacies of the stock market and explore the distinct roles played by different types of traders.

Day Traders:

Day traders are individuals who execute multiple trades within a single day, taking advantage of short-term price fluctuations. Their primary goal is to capitalize on intraday price movements and avoid overnight exposure to market risks. Day trading requires quick decision-making, technical analysis skills, and a deep understanding of market trends. ﾠ ﾠ ﾠ ﾠ ﾠ ﾠ ﾠ ﾠ ﾠ ﾠ

Swing Traders:

Swing traders aim to capture price "swings" or short to medium-term trends within a specific stock or market. Unlike day traders, swing traders may hold positions for several days or even weeks. They rely on both technical and fundamental analysis to identify potential entry and exit points, attempting to profit from market momentum.

Position Traders:

Position traders take a longer-term approach, holding positions for weeks, months, or even years. They base their decisions on fundamental analysis, macroeconomic trends, and company performance. Position trading requires a patient mindset and the ability to weather short-term market fluctuations while keeping an eye on the broader market landscape.

Scalpers:

Scalpers are ultra-short-term traders who focus on making small profits from very quick trades, often holding positions for just seconds to a few minutes. Their strategy involves taking advantage of small price changes and relying on high-frequency trading systems. Scalping requires precision and the ability to execute trades swiftly.

Algorithmic Traders:

Algorithmic or algo traders utilize computer algorithms to execute trades automatically based on predefined criteria. These traders employ complex mathematical models and statistical analysis to identify trading opportunities and execute orders at optimal times. Algorithmic trading has become increasingly prevalent in modern financial markets.

Trend Followers:

Trend followers identify and capitalize on existing market trends, either upward or downward. They use technical analysis to spot patterns and indicators that suggest the continuation of a trend. Trend-following strategies aim to ride the momentum of a trend until signs of a reversal appear.

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[redwineconversation]

say something babe, do something (Olympique Lyonnais 2024 Contracts)

"You're Losing Me" is about the events which led up to what happened in "Maroon" and I will not entertain theories to the contrary.

Anyway, let's have a chat about Lyon's 2024 contracts, which I have addressed a little in the past and privately, but with Hegerberg's comments, it's worth revisiting.

Here are the major 2024 contracts: Ada Hegerberg, Griedge M'Bock, Delphine Cascarino, Perle Morroni, Christiane Endler, Vanessa Gilles, Vicki Becho, Eugenie Le Sommer.

Those are pretty considerable players. We're talking about the club's best and second best goal scorer, their starting goalkeeper, one of the best center backs in the world, a world class right winger, a world class left back, and arguably a very talented youngster. Losing those players would be catastrophic for the club, especially because there aren't really any equivalent players wandering around.

But why are we in a situation where we could lose such an important part of the roster?

First factor: John Textor taking over Olympique Lyonnais.

Nothing good has come from John Textor being the new owner. He fired Aulas, decided not to pay Aulas' separation agreement, decided to sell the women's team to a friend of his but a stranger to the team, failed to pass the financial watchdog not once not twice but three times, caused massive upheaval in the club, and is more hung up on Botafogo than Beth Mead stans are about the thought of Ellie Carpenter breathing.

John Textor fired Aulas because he didn't want Aulas' influence at the club anymore, and while you can argue that as majority owner he has the right to do what he wants with the club's personnel, Lyon's men team is also sitting bottom of the league and is about to have their third coach in as many months. There is enormous turmoil at Olympique Lyonnais and John Textor is the sole reason for it. He doesn't know what it means to run a successful European club and thinks he can do whatever he wants just like he did with Botofago. European clubs work different.

Perhaps John Textor's only saving grace is that he sold Lyon Feminin to Michele Kang. That's a good thing.

Or, well, is it?

Obviously given the choice between John Textor running Olympique Lyonnais Feminin or Michele Kang running it, I will choose Michele Kang. She is invested in women's soccer, believes in running it like a business, and seems to, at the very least, have some sort of interest in the sports. She has Lyon's interest at heart from a business perspective. She shows up to games, has plans, has ambitions.

All good things.

But what she is lacking is European experience. The fact of the matter is Washington Spirit is not a heavyweight club like Olympique Lyonnais Feminin is and you cannot recruit players for Washington Spirit at all because of the fucking draft the way Lyon needs their recruitment to be run. This club, with its European ambitions, cannot and should be run based on the premise of youth promise or trades.

What works with Washington Spirit is fine because that is restricted to the NWSL where there are no consequences for bad draft decisions. Bad recruitment for a European team can, has, and will cost a team the Champions League. It can, has, and will cost a team the league which affects their ability to go in the UWCL group stages and instead a team will find themselves against the likes of a scalp hunting team like Paris FC.

A team can finish rock bottom in the NWSL and there are absolutely zero consequences for the following season. It's a closed league with nothing at stake. If a team doesn't make the playoffs one season, who cares? There's always the next season. You don't win the Shield, that's a shame. You don't get the winner's bonus but that's it, really. You get another shot at it next season.

Camille Abily raised this concern about the playoffs in her recent OL Night Systems interview. Because of the structure, there is an actual possibility that Lyon might not even qualify for the UWCL playoffs, much less the group stage.

And that is always, always, always going to affect recruitment for a team of Lyon's calibre. I don't have the calendar in front of me, but I think the playoffs are May 12 and May 16 (or somewhere around those dates). Let's just roll with that. Now, Lyon has too many experienced players, too many international players, to be satisfied with not playing UWCL one season.

Ada Hegerberg is not going to stick around for a team who is not going to play Champions League, she just won't. Christiane Endler probably won't. Griedge M'Bock won't. Delphine Cascarino won't. I'm not even sure if the 2025 contracts would stick around - Selma Bacha definitely won't.

The type of players Lyon have just aren't going to accept chilling at home during the weekdays and watching other teams play the UWCL the entire season. That's just not going to happen.

Even if you can lock down these players prior to May 12, 2024 - and that's a massive if - any player with self-esteem is going to have an escape clause. As I said, Hegerberg isn't going to stick around for a team not playing in the Champions League all season. It's not going to happen. So how do you prepare for a team whose significant amount of players will be gun-shy to sign and then will want an escape clause even if they do?

It affects the recruitment. I've been vocal about wanting Leuchter, but would Lyon really be able to attract her? Not as things stand. They can't promise UWCL until May 12 at best, can't guarantee playing time, can't really say anything other than "okay... but like ... maybe... think about it?"

So we're back to the Michele Kang dilemma: what can she do, exactly?

At the moment, absolutely nothing, because she doesn't even officially own this team, and can't own it until OL Reign is officially sold. Seattle Sounders FC have officially entered negotiations to purchase the team but nothing has been finalized, and we are back to John Textor's "trust me, bro" in terms of seeing if it even occurs.

Even Textor had kept on Aulas until the sale of OL Reign was officially completed then there would have been an element of stability which is missing right now. Kang can't even make guarantees because she doesn't even own them. Yes, she's there, yes, she's behind the scenes, and yes, she is showing up.

But she doesn't own them. She can't make those final decisions.

But there is one other major factor: crowd attendance.

It's not a super persuasive argument in my mind, but it's still there. Lyon players deserve bigger crowds than they have. Now, there are factors which do explain the crowd attendance: Lyon's men team are absolutely shit. That does influence crowd attendance for female teams. If the men's team is successful, then people will care about other parts of the club. This will upset certain fan clubs, but let's be quite frank about it.

When Lyon men were capable of winning games, Lyon Fem was hitting in the 25k-30k range attendance at the Groupama Stadium. Then COVID hit, the men started being shit, Lyon Fem went through a season where they were trophyless, and that leads us to today. I'm not saying all of those are great arguments, but they are factors we need to take into consideration.

Lyon Fem gets ripped into for bad performances. The crowd is extremely unforgiving. Lyon had one (1) bad season where they didn't win anything and it did affect crowd attendance at the women's games for the following seasons. There are consequences to not living up to expectations. Lyon's shitty start to the 2022-2023 had consequences which we're still feeling to this day.

The crowd wants to get behind a team who wins. Lyon (Fem) fans have always cared about the football more than the social gathering at games. When Lyon had those wins, the football was a given, and the players didn't have to ask for people to show up. Fans showed up because winning was almost a guarantee.

2020-2021; Fall 2022 took those guarantees away.

It's not to say Lyon isn't trying to rebuild that trust. They are. And I think Kang's idea of building a midsize stadium (10-15k) is the right one. But again there are logistics behind it. Groupama is not the easiest stadium to get to, and the scheduling, especially of the women's games, makes it even more complicated as well. A majority of Lyon fans are 18+ and therefore have actual responsibilities, such as their education or jobs. A 9pm game on a Sunday night is going to affect attendance for fans who work full time. A novel concept for some, but that is the truth. People will (should?) choose to pay bills over attending a game. Though maybe there is a correlation between football social gatherings and unemployment rates.

So yeah, fan attendance is higher in other leagues, and there's reasons for that, amongst which are scheduling (which can be changed by the FFF), and success of the men's teams (in the hands of the Sports Gods).

Hegerberg's comments were annoying and, if I am frank, a little offensive to Lyon. She made it seem like Lyon is deliberately being passive about her contract situation rather than the club having its hands tied due to John Textor's lax definition of management.

Is Lyon's recruitment going to be really, really painful as long as the playoffs exist? Is Lyon's crowd attendance going to suffer while the men have won one (1) game in 12 attempts?

Yes.

It's really, really hard to predict what will happen with the 2024 contracts because these players will only play for UWCL teams. For the first time since 2006, Lyon doesn't know if they will be one.

[googleblogs123]

Mastering Scalping Indicators: Unlock Forex Market Trends

Discover how scalping indicators and forex market trends can revolutionize your trading strategy. This analysis dives deep into trading entry and exit points, automated trading signals, and portfolio optimization for a dynamic market.

Market Insights

Recent market data revealed a resilient U.S. economy, highlighted by the JOLTS report showing job openings at 7.74 million, surpassing expectations. The ISM Manufacturing PMI posted an improved 48.4, signaling slight expansion. These indicators have prompted traders to reassess forex market trends and refine their forex portfolio strategies to navigate potential shifts.

Treasury yields reflected mixed sentiment: the 10-year Treasury yield edged up by 2 basis points to 4.23%, while the 2-year Treasury yield dipped by 1 basis point to 4.186%. This underscores cautious market anticipation of upcoming data that could influence trading strategies.

Currency Performance and Indices

Despite the strong U.S. economic data, Australia’s GDP growth of 0.3%, falling below expectations, pressured the Australian and New Zealand dollars. Geopolitical tensions in South Korea further contributed to regional instability.

U.S. Index Performance

S&P 500: Closed at 6049.88 (+0.0451%), range: 6033.39–6052.07.

Dow Jones: Ended at 44705.53 (-0.1708%), range: 44574.78–44914.68.

NASDAQ Composite: Rose to 19480.91 (+0.3966%), range: 19340.41–19486.15.

FTSE 100: Slightly lower at 8358.26, range: 8343.61–8386.44.

Nikkei 225: Reached 39077.24, range: 39029.49–39164.94.

Market Analysis

GOLD Gold prices remain uncertain despite robust JOLTS data and expectations of a Federal Reserve rate cut. Scalping indicators highlight opportunities for short-term trades, particularly with MACD signaling bullish momentum and RSI showing neutral levels. However, bearish undertones linger until clearer trading entry and exit signals emerge. For further analysis and insights, visit Rich Smart FX or Rich Smart.

SILVER Silver surpassed its previous swing high, suggesting a bullish trend. RSI divergence supports a buying scenario, while MACD reflects hesitation, signaling potential consolidation below 31.4724 before further gains. Scalping indicators provide guidance for quick trades in this volatile setup. You can also explore further market insights with Axel Private Market.

DXY The U.S. dollar consolidates after breaking a prior swing high, with MACD histogram prints lightening and RSI showing strong bullish momentum. Automated trading signals suggest a continuation of upward movement as markets await further data to confirm potential rate cuts. Enhance your strategy with tools from DBGM FX.

GBPUSD The pound found support, indicating further upward potential. While MACD reflects robust bullish momentum, RSI leans toward stagnation. Scalping indicators can aid traders in identifying optimal trading entry and exit points, balancing the risk of retracement against bullish continuation. For additional guidance, check out GFS Markets.

AUDUSD The Australian dollar exhibits bearish potential, with resistance at 0.65250 near its prior swing high. Despite lighter MACD histogram prints, bearish momentum persists, as indicated by the RSI. Scalping indicators highlight potential opportunities for traders seeking short-term gains amid continued downside pressure. Get more insights at Top Max Global.

NZDUSD The New Zealand dollar continues to face selling pressure. MACD and RSI momentum confirm bearish sentiment after failing to breach its previous swing high. Rate cuts by the Reserve Bank of New Zealand and geopolitical risks exacerbate its weakness, presenting scalping opportunities for short-term gains. For real-time updates, visit World Quest FX.

EURUSD The euro trades within a tight range, with MACD showing lighter bearish prints and RSI indicating selling momentum. Until a breakout occurs, scalping indicators and automated trading signals are valuable for navigating intraday volatility.

USDJPY The yen gained strength as prices dropped, but the dollar’s recovery tested its previous swing high. RSI levels near overbought territory hint at selling potential, while MACD suggests a possible bullish continuation. Scalping indicators help identify precise moments for trades during this mixed sentiment.

USDCHF The Swiss franc continued its bullish trend, supported by RSI and MACD signaling strong upward momentum. For traders, identifying trading entry and exit points ensures precision, particularly as the franc recovers after prior swing low attempts.

USDCAD The Canadian dollar shows robust buying strength, with RSI and MACD confirming bullish momentum. A sharp recovery from recent lows highlights alignment with broader forex market trends, offering opportunities for portfolio diversification.

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Advance Your Trading Career With ICFM’s Comprehensive Algo Trading Course In India

Understand the importance of an expert-led algo trading course in financial markets

In today's fast-paced and technology-driven financial ecosystem, mastering algorithmic trading has become crucial for anyone aiming to outperform the market with consistency and precision. An algo trading course is essential for individuals who want to learn how to automate trading strategies, reduce human error, and execute high-frequency trades with efficiency. ICFM - Stock Market Institute has emerged as the most reliable destination for mastering this skill through its highly practical and advanced algo trading course. At ICFM, learners gain real-world knowledge about algorithmic strategies, coding, trading systems, and market automation using live examples and simulation-based training.

Learn automated trading strategies through India’s best algo trading course only at ICFM

ICFM - Stock Market Institute offers a cutting-edge algo trading course that teaches the fundamentals of financial algorithms, programming logic, and practical deployment in stock market conditions. The course is crafted to empower traders, analysts, and investors to understand how algorithms drive the modern stock market and how one can gain an edge using automated tools. The algo trading course at ICFM is not just theoretical—it includes real-time implementation on platforms used by professionals in the trading industry. From strategy building and backtesting to risk control and live deployment, ICFM ensures that learners are thoroughly prepared through a highly detailed algo trading course.

Build coding and trading skills with the best algo trading course in Delhi NCR

One of the standout features of ICFM’s algo trading course is the structured inclusion of programming modules such as Python and other relevant tools used in building trading bots and strategies. Students with no prior coding knowledge are trained from the basics, making the course friendly for both technical and non-technical backgrounds. The algo trading course helps learners grasp important trading concepts like statistical arbitrage, scalping, mean reversion, momentum trading, and other data-driven strategies. The practical exposure at ICFM - Stock Market Institute ensures that you are not just learning, but also implementing trading logic into working scripts through your algo trading course journey.

Unlock the future of trading with ICFM’s professional algo trading course

The future of stock trading lies in automation, and ICFM’s algo trading course is designed to give you a first-mover advantage in this domain. The institute’s deep focus on strategy building, API integration, and machine-learning-enabled trading makes its algo trading course one of the most advanced in the Indian education market. The faculty at ICFM comprises industry experts and active algorithmic traders who mentor students on everything from designing a trading model to running live strategies in actual markets. With access to live terminals, real-time datasets, and smart tools, ICFM offers a comprehensive algo trading course that is both futuristic and practical.

Learn from professionals and gain certification through the top algo trading course in India

The algo trading course at ICFM - Stock Market Institute offers the dual benefit of skill development and certification. Upon successful completion, learners receive a certification that is recognized and respected in the industry. This helps traders and analysts boost their professional credibility while applying for jobs in fintech firms, brokerage houses, and asset management companies. The algo trading course opens up lucrative opportunities for those looking to build careers in algorithmic research, quant trading, and automated investment solutions. With an increasing demand for skilled professionals in this niche, enrolling in ICFM’s algo trading course gives you a competitive edge in the financial job market.

Enjoy personalized mentorship and real-time support in your algo trading course at ICFM

One of the greatest advantages of pursuing an algo trading course from ICFM - Stock Market Institute is the personalized mentorship you receive. The institute believes in hands-on learning, and every student is guided individually by expert mentors throughout their course duration. This mentorship includes strategy review, code debugging, backtest optimization, and practical implementation help. The algo trading course allows students to gain clarity on complex topics through case studies, live projects, and direct exposure to the markets. ICFM’s approach ensures that you walk away from the algo trading course not only with theoretical knowledge but with applicable skills ready for market execution.

Enroll in ICFM’s algo trading course and transform your trading journey today

Whether you are a beginner looking to get started in algorithmic trading or a professional trader wanting to automate your strategies, ICFM - Stock Market Institute’s algo trading course is tailored to meet your exact needs. With affordable fee structures, weekend batches, online access, and a robust learning environment, ICFM ensures that quality education is available to every aspiring trader. The algo trading course is backed by lifetime support, doubt-clearing sessions, and updated resources, keeping learners equipped even after completion. If you are serious about building a profitable and scalable trading system, then ICFM’s algo trading course is your best investment. Take your first step towards tech-powered trading and join the most reputed algo trading course in India, only at ICFM - Stock Market Institute.