#Zero-cost trading

[tickpro]

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TickPro is a technology-driven SaaS trading platform that offers a complete range of trading solutions. From front-end processing to risk management systems and back-end technology support, TickPro.in provides traders with comprehensive tools to enhance their trading strategies. With advanced features, real-time market data, and customizable charts, traders can make informed decisions and execute trades with confidence. The platform prioritizes reliability and security, ensuring a seamless trading experience while protecting sensitive information. With scalability and customization options, TickPro.in caters to traders of all sizes and trading styles, empowering them to optimize their workflow and maximize their trading performance.

[signode-blog]

Comprehensive Guide to Effective Collar Options Trading Strategies

Collar options trading strategies are a popular tool for investors seeking to protect their portfolios from significant losses while still participating in potential upside gains. This strategy involves holding an underlying asset, purchasing a protective put option, and selling a covered call option. The protective put limits downside risk, while the covered call generates income to offset the…

[read-marx-and-lenin]

I'm asking this in good faith, but this is something I'm genuinely confused about. Regarding the Holodomor, or the Soviet famine of 1930 in general, why does it matter if it was a genocide or not? At best it seems to be a natural famine exacerbated by poor decision making, and while that is far different from a genocide, I don't understand why that specification matters, because it was still made worse by Soviet intervention, unless I'm getting the facts wrong which I probably am.

It matters to the Western propagandists who were insistent for decades despite zero evidence that the famine was used to commit atrocities against the people of Ukraine. The refrain the whole time was that once the Soviet archives were made public, they'd finally have the proof they needed. The archives are eventually opened, and surprise surprise, there's not only no evidence of the deliberate withholding of grain, there's evidence of significant amounts of food aid being sent to help alleviate the famine. The myth of a Ukrainian genocide began as Nazi propaganda and was adopted as part of the "double genocide" narrative by Western reactionaries after WW2 to downplay the crimes of the Nazis and to maintain a narrative about liberal opposition to "authoritarianism", painting Western capitalists as the "free world" fighting against both fascism and communism. (Don't ask them why they stopped fighting fascism after WW2 though.)

As for the human elements of the famine, it is also part of the typical Western narrative, even among those who admit the Holodomor was not a targeted anti-Ukrainian genocide and who admit that there were environmental factors, to try and put substantial amounts of blame on the Soviet collectivization of agriculture. I am not going to lie and say collectivization went smoothly with no issues, but you cannot ignore the factors of reactionary sabotage by kulaks (including the destruction of animals and grain and the outright murder of party officials) and the effects of Western sanctions and sabotage on the economic development of the USSR.

While some have argued that there was a complete "gold blockade" on the USSR during the famine and so the Soviet Union was forced to export grain to facilitate international trade, the blockade was never enforced by all Western nations at the same time and the Soviets were still able to export gold and silver at various times throughout the 1920s. It is true, however, that gold reserves were stretched thin at the time and the Soviets simply didn't have enough gold to cover their international debts. Soviet gold mines had never been extraordinarily productive and the rest of the Soviet economy was still developing at the time, so grain was one of the few things that they expected to have in surplus. In addition, there were various other sanctions in place by 1930 that did limit who they could trade with and what they could trade with, but the export of grain was almost never restricted. The famine caught them off guard at a very bad time.

While international grain exports were restricted during the famine as grain was diverted to famine-stricken regions of the country (and grain imports were increased as well), the problems with hoarding only worsened as in the panic of the famine, kulaks sought to exploit the people and create a profitable black market on grain. A struggle against the kulaks coincided with worsening environmental effects and the spread of disease among both crops and humans.

The famine was not man-made, it was not entirely natural, and it was not the inevitable outcome of collectivization. It was a perfect storm of a variety of factors. Stalin was not some heartless monster condemning millions of Ukrainians to death for daring to defy the glorious Soviet Union. He was not some idiot who had no idea what he was doing, plunging the nation into famine out of ineptitude. He was not a stubborn maniac who refused to abandon failing economic policies even at the cost of human lives. He was a human being, one of many in charge of the Soviet Union, dealing with concurrent disasters as best as they could.

[reasonsforhope]

African poverty is partly a consequence of energy poverty. In every other continent the vast majority of people have access to electricity. In Africa 600m people, 43% of the total, cannot readily light their homes or charge their phones. And those who nominally have grid electricity find it as reliable as a Scottish summer. More than three-quarters of African firms experience outages; two-fifths say electricity is the main constraint on their business.

If other sub-Saharan African countries had enjoyed power as reliable as South Africa’s from 1995 to 2007, then the continent’s rate of real GDP growth per person would have been two percentage points higher, more than doubling the actual rate, according to one academic paper. Since then South Africa has also had erratic electricity. So-called “load-shedding” is probably the main reason why the economy has shrunk in four of the past eight quarters.

Solar power is increasingly seen as the solution. Last year Africa installed a record amount of photovoltaic (PV) capacity (though this still made up just 1% of the total added worldwide), notes the African Solar Industry Association (AFSIA), a trade group. Globally most solar PV is built by utilities, but in Africa 65% of new capacity over the past two years has come from large firms contracting directly with developers. These deals are part of a decentralised revolution that could be of huge benefit to African economies.

Ground zero for the revolution is South Africa. Last year saw a record number of blackouts imposed by Eskom, the state-run utility, whose dysfunctional coal-fired power stations regularly break down or operate at far below capacity. Fortunately, as load-shedding was peaking, the costs of solar systems were plummeting.

Between 2019 and 2023 the cost of panels fell by 15%, having already declined by almost 90% in the 2010s. Meanwhile battery storage systems now cost about half as much as five years ago. Industrial users pay 20-40% less per unit when buying electricity from private project developers than on the cheapest Eskom tariff.

In the past two calendar years the amount of solar capacity in South Africa rose from 2.8GW to 7.8GW, notes AFSIA, excluding that installed on the roofs of suburban homes. All together South Africa’s solar capacity could now be almost a fifth of that of Eskom’s coal-fired power stations (albeit those still have a higher “capacity factor”, or ability to produce electricity around the clock). The growth of solar is a key reason why there has been less load-shedding in 2024...

Over the past decade the number of startups providing “distributed renewable energy” (DRE) has grown at a clip. Industry estimates suggest that more than 400m Africans get electricity from solar home systems and that more than ten times as many “mini-grids”, most of which use solar, were built in 2016-20 than in the preceding five years. In Kenya DRE firms employ more than six times as many people as the largest utility. In Nigeria they have created almost as many jobs as the oil and gas industry.

“The future is an extremely distributed system to an extent that people haven’t fully grasped,” argues Matthew Tilleard of CrossBoundary Group, a firm whose customers range from large businesses to hitherto unconnected consumers. “It’s going to happen here in Africa first and most consequentially.”

Ignite, which operates in nine African countries, has products that include a basic panel that powers three light bulbs and a phone charger, as well as solar-powered irrigation pumps, stoves and internet routers, and industrial systems. Customers use mobile money to “unlock” a pay-as-you-go meter.

Yariv Cohen, Ignite’s CEO, reckons that the typical $3 per month spent by consumers is less than what they previously paid for kerosene and at phone-charging kiosks. He describes how farmers are more productive because they do not have to get home before dark and children are getting better test scores because they study under bulbs. One family in Rwanda used to keep their two cows in their house because they feared rustlers might come in the dark; now the cattle snooze al fresco under an outside lamp and the family gets more sleep.

...That is one eye-catching aspect of Africa’s solar revolution. But most of the continent is undergoing a more subtle—and significant—experiment in decentralised, commercially driven solar power. It is a trend that could both transform African economies and offer lessons to the rest of the world."

-via The Economist, June 18, 2024. Paragraph breaks added.

[renthony]

On Cosplay, Fast Fashion, & Waste

Fast fashion and disposable outfits in cosplay community spaces give me anxiety. Seeing people openly talk about throwing their "trashed" cosplay away after a single con makes me sad. Some costumes are crafted with such low durability that they fall apart beyond repair if you look at them the wrong way. I've met a ton of other cosplayers whose idea of "cosplay repair" ends with a stapler and some hot glue.

I never ever ever ever want to shame people for not knowing something. Crafting is hard. Making a low-quality costume isn't a sin or a crime. If you're new and still learning and don't really know what you're doing yet, that's fine! No harm, no foul, no bruise.

The cosplayers who do make me grouchy, however, are the ones who are unwilling to try. The ones who are flippant about throwing away a cosplay without trying to mend it, repurpose it, reuse it, or pass it along. The ones who intentionally make a costume just durable enough to last a single day, then toss it in the trash with zero thought.

My sewing and costuming experience started when I joined the ren faire, and I had to make my costumes sturdy enough to survive multiple weeks of heavy use, with the durability and freedom of movement to allow sword fighting on the living chessboard. I was taught how to shop for inexpensive fabrics and materials, but use high-quality, long-lasting techniques so that my costumes didn't disintegrate after a single day of performing. I have made extremely durable, cost-effective costumes out of bedsheets and thrift store fabric, as have many of my friends.

That experience has carried over into my cosplay. I am not happy with a costume unless it can go through three consecutive days of stage combat and high-intensity walking around outside in the heat, go through the washer and dryer, and come out completely unscathed.

Again, I never want to needlessly shit on other people's cosplay. Cosplay gatekeeping sucks and is no fun for anyone. At the same time, fast fashion is just as rampant in cosplay as it is everywhere else, and it sucks to see how wasteful it is.

You can make things durable even with cheap materials. Stop making flimsy costumes that you're just going to toss. Stop making piles and piles of waste. Please stop buying fabric just to slap a costume together with glue and throw it in the trash. If you are going to invest time and money into making something by hand, make it durable and comfy and worth the effort.

Even if you only want to personally wear it once, you can sell it, give it away, trade it, do something other than toss it in the trash. Show some love to your costumes, show some love to the planet, pick one action you can take to make your cosplay a little less wasteful. Being obsessed with the myth of a "personal carbon footprint" isn't helpful, but we as cosplayers should try to at least make things that'll last longer than 24 hours.

I understand that sewing can be incredibly intimidating, but basic stitching really isn't that complicated if you have a guide and the right tools. I personally need assistive devices for sewing thanks to my hand tremors and tendonitis, but those tools do exist, and can make things easier for both disabled and newbie sewists. I use rotary cutters instead of scissors, I keep a supply of needle threaders on hand, I have multiple little gadgets that help me sew in a straight line so my shaking hands don't screw everything up. There are tons of tools available, tons of tutorials online, and if you're interested in learning, there's a whole world out there to explore.

If you don't want to do all the crafting yourself, that's totally fine, but if you are going to hand-make your costume, you should try and make it durable. It's better for the planet and it's way less stressful to go to an event when you know your costume won't fall apart on the con floor.

If you have zero idea where to start, here are some books with crafting techniques I've found very useful, both in cosplay and regular household sewing I do for my family:

Make, Sew and Mend: Traditional Techniques to Sustainably Maintain and Refashion Your Clothes, by Bernadette Banner (who also has an incredible YouTube channel)

Cosplay Fabric FX: Painting, Dyeing & Weathering Costumes Like a Pro, by Julianna Franchini

Creative Cosplay: Selecting & Sewing Costumes Way Beyond Basic, by Amanda Haas

Level Up! Creative Cosplay: Costume Design & Creation, SFX Makeup, LED Basics & More, by Amanda Haas

[ms-demeanor]

Also I have to say "but bands are using AI art for their album covers" is not a winning argument.

That band wasn't going to pay you. That band was going to beg somebody's artist brother for a freebie or they were going to have the people in the band who can kind of draw draw something or they were going to use a moody photo someone took with their cellphone. Best possible scenario is "they were going to trade for something from someone in the scene," and this is still the most likely scenario for bands that *give a shit* about that kind of thing.

And I've been the one doing freebie artwork for my musician friends; I've made album covers and done promo shoots, I've drawn logos and I've got a standing offer to make buttons for the cost of materials for every band I've ever played a show with. The people who give a shit in the scene are already doing this because everybody knows that everybody's broke.

I'm certain that there's not *zero* overlap between "bands that can afford to pay artists and photographers to create album artwork" and "bands that are using AI art for their album covers" but if you think "indie musician" is a demographic that has money to spare on commissioned artwork, I'm pretty sure you're mistaken.

Like. Okay, I mean my *big* argument is that AI image generation is fair use, full stop.

But the secondary argument that I've got is that I'm not sure there's a market to have the bottom fall out of.

The person making shitty covers for their amazon romance novel was not going to pay you. They were going to pay someone on fiverr eight dollars *at best* and that's only if they couldn't find a way to DIY.

That band that's trying desperately to sell ten tickets so they can play a show at the cool venue was not going to pay you to do their cover art. Their last fifty bucks just went to covering those tickets because their friends aren't even coming to their free shows. They were going to stage a photoshoot with a cellphone and a timer and someone's sister's selfie stick.

That person who made an AI avatar was not going to pay you for a custom avatar they were going to take a screenshot of your work and use that.

The people who are able to afford to pay artists and who are interested in paying artists are not the people who are replacing artists with AI. The t-shirt dropshippers, the shitty book cover designers, the bland corporate artists, and the art reposting instagram pages were the ones who undercut your market.

If you're concerned that someone is going to use AI to make art that is materially similar to yours and sell it, you're just concerned that someone is going to make art that is materially similar to yours to sell. The concerns about AI doing it are functionally exactly the same as what happens when someone says "wow, I want that on a t-shirt" under your drawing. If someone were to draw a character similar to but distinct from yours with words similar to but distinct from yours and put a link to that on a reblog of your post, that person is not actually infringing on you. They're a shithead, but that's not actually art theft. If they used your character and your words, or if they directly copy the image, that's art theft and you can try to get their post taken down. It's the exact same thing with AI.

The people who care about art and can afford to pay for it are always going to pay for it. Your problem isn't with AI, your problem is with the fact that people don't value art and that's as true now as it was a decade ago.

You are trying to sell a complicated, crocheted sundress made with 100% hand-dyed alpaca wool on Etsy and are complaining that the loose knit acrylic sundress from walmart is undercutting your market. Some people are always going to make the effort to save up and pay for your work because they value the craftsmanship, but those people didn't want to shop at WalMart in the first place. And the ones who value your craftsmanship but just plain can't afford it were going to dig through the bins at a thrift store until they found a crocheted swim cover from the seventies that they could pass off as a dress with a few alterations.

[cringefailvox]

overlord husk aus are very interesting to me in part because they present such a radically different vision of the huskerdust dynamic that is very compelling to me. present-day husk and angel are exhausted. these are people genuinely at rock bottom, who have been so worn down and chipped away at by the long, dragging stalemate of their circumstances that they have nothing left to give but their bare minimum selves. which is okay, and it's enough for them; a lot of what makes their dynamic so interesting is that it's about two people at their lowest rediscovering what it feels like to not be alone down there, to even begin thinking about the possibility of climbing out of the deep dark hole they've made their peace with now that they won't be doing it by themselves.

in contrast, overlord husk aus imagine a version of husk and angel before they were losers together. they imagine versions of them that haven't been beaten down all the way just yet: husk at the height of his greed and power and reckless addictions, angel riding the high of his stardom while adamantly refusing to peel back the surface and acknowledge the rot. both of them still digging the hole and saying to themselves, "i've got a ladder, i'm not going to get stuck. i can always climb back out."

and having these two meet at this stage in their lives, i think they would really, really not make each other better. husk's consideration for the souls on his chain had to have been close to zero for him to use them as gambling chips the way he did, especially the recklessly self-destructive way he did that ended with his own soul in alastor's pocket. and i imagine that for a long time, angel lived in total willful denial about val's escalating abuse and the toll his increasingly demanding job was taking on him, because acknowledging it would be tantamount to making it real, making it something that could actually hurt him and not just be rationalized away, and so of course he'd put off doing that for as long as he could.

if husk had actually won angel's soul, it wouldn't have been any different from all the other people he traded back and forth across his table just for the illicit thrill of the game. angel probably would've had a whole sunk-cost freakout about it (what was the point of all that pain and suffering and lack of autonomy if all the consequences are coming from a stranger now and not val? when it isn't personal? and now he can't even claim a little bit of power back by saying he chose it, because he didn't.) angel knows full well what it looks like when someone is going to kill themselves with their addictions, but what obligation does he have to the guy who would just as quick give him up to somebody else if it gave him an adrenaline rush? nothing, that's what, and he has enough of his own problems anyway.

crucially, they're both INCREDIBLY self-absorbed. not even in a conceited or vain way, but just in that they're so wrapped up in their own mess that they can't see beyond it, they don't have any space for empathy, and furthermore, they have no reason to even try.

it's why the version of their dynamic we get in canon works so well—they're in the same place now, at just the right time to finally start opening up their worlds to how they affect other people (angel watching charlie interact with val at the studio; husk being forced by alastor to engage with the hotel's residents as the bartender). there's space for empathy in their lives now, because they've finally been brought so low that they can't hide anymore, can't look away, can't deny how completely and totally fucked they are. it's a kind of brutal honesty that can only really come from confronting your absolute worst-case scenario. but for them to even begin connecting with each other in any authentic sense, they needed to have the ladder taken away so they could finally bring themselves to stop digging, look up, and realize there's been someone down here with them all along.

[the-ninjago-girl]

Ya wanna know what I just realized? The overall theme of scarlet and violet isn't actually about our treasure hunt, or making friends along the way,

It's obsession.(and how it hurts those around us.)

In the base game of pokemon scarlet and violet, we learn that the professor,(sada or turo depending on which version you play.) was absolutely obsessed with the paradox pokemon within the scarlet/violet book. They were so obsessed with these pokemon that they wanted, NEEDED to make them a reality by bringing them into our own. Their obsession was so bad, that they not only lost their significant other, but neglected their son to the point of completely abandoning him, all for the purpose of "paradise". Not realizing they already had one with their son.

The obsession has been with the professor since their childhood. As seen in the secret cutscene at kitakami's crystal pool with terapagos in your party, it brings the professor from iirc 10 years before the events of the game start. When they ask to trade for the book ms. Brair wrote they offer their copy of the s/v book and tell you "this book captured my imagination as a child and never let go." They were obsessed. It costed them their life, completely ruined arvens childhood, and almost caused the destruction of the Paldea region because they were too obsessed with having pokemon of the past/future along side them.

Then we go to kitakami, and meet Kieran. A boy who is obsessed with the ogre, a.k.a ogerpon. Kieran believes the two as kindred spirits, outcasts in kitakami because they were different. Though rightly upset at you and his sister for not telling him about meeting ogerpon, takes it too far when he steals the mask from his grandfather. As a result of winning the battle to get the mask back from him his obsession shifts, not really about befriending ogerpon anymore, but about beating you/being as good as you are. He becomes mean and ruthless to those around him in blueberry academy, becoming champion in order to try to be strong enough to beat you.

In the underdepths of area zero his obsession with beating you causes him to seek out terapagos, and catch it so that he can finally beat you.

And finally ms. Briar, obsessed with terapagos and proving it was real. Her ancestor, the original author of the s/v book, heath, was claimed and told to be nothing more than a liar after writing what he had found in area zero. Briar was obsessed, determined to prove terapagos' existence to clear her ancestors name, and that everything in the s/v book was in fact real. In kitakami she was more concerned with figuring out the terastal phenomenon than helping to guide the students from the 2 schools on their field trip.

And once in blueberry, she asks you, carmine and Kieran to join her in area zero to find terapagos. Once in the underdepths she puts herself in danger because of a strangely terastalized glimmora, of which you battle to protect her and the siblings. In the final chamber of the underdepths, she eggs on Kieran to take terapagos(in crystal form) out of the tera crystals around it to finally see the pokemon she's been trying to get to for so long, and then tells him to terastalize the pokemon, putting everyone in danger. As the amount of Tera energy is too much for the little pokemon to control, and thus it goes out of control, destroying the environment around it, nearly causing a cave in.

Ms. Briars obsession with finding terapagos nearly caused the group to get killed because she was so obsessed with finding terapagos. Obsessed with proving that heath was telling the truth all this time.

Pokemon scarlet and violet showed that obsession can hurt and harm those around you. That an obsession like sada/turo, Kieran and ms Briars', will cause the pain of others and themselves in order to reach their goal.

[moominsuki]

✎ᝰGOJO SATORU ; — hot and heavy on wheels

࿄ ! warnings - afab!reader. car sex, fingering, porn with no plot, piv, unprotected sex, creampie. / note. my first ficlet in a long while :} i’m on a gojo craze now idk he’s just perfect. minors & blank blogs dni!

mall shopping with gojo is difficult. well, to preface, it’s not difficult in the sense that he spoils you and buys you what you want without so much as a question or a plead of your round eyes. and he carries round the plethora of bags and boxes from all the shops you got lured in to without a sigh or even a noise of complaint.

it’s more so difficult because after the whole ‘ordeal’ is over, the white haired man has a look in his eye that can only be attributed to feeling a bit frisky. you chalk it up to the fact that you allowed him to sit in the dressing room while you frequented between ann summers and the like - not allowing so much as a grip to the back of your thighs and slapping his hands away when gojo tries to bite at your clavicle and grab at your ass.

“have i told you that you’re impossible?” you groan as gojo noses wet kisses at your jaw, practically throwing you in the back of his g-wagon. he’s so incredibly impatient - so much so that you scold him for throwing the delicate paper bags so haphazardly in the boot of his car and trying to kiss you so brazenly in the open parking lot.

the man chuckles, “maybe once or twice, but that’s what you like about me,” as he clambers over you to surround your smaller body with his much larger one - lifting your thigh to wrap around his nimble clad waist. you’d never admit this to your boyfriend’s face (so as to avoid the upturn of his lips falling into a smug-laced smile) but you love the days where he’s dressed and looks like this - he’s in navy blue dress trousers and a henley to match, pastel hued locks falling over his head and opaque lenses dropping from his nose bridge and he’s biteable like this - so biteable that it makes you want to tease him, rile him up so that he falls prey to your charm and sway of your hips. and while gojo does pride himself in being omniscient or whatever is along those lines, his head turns to mush when you bat your pretty eyelashes at him.

gojo sits up between your legs, pulling down the frilly straps of the pale pink summer dress that he got you (it cost a pretty penny but you thanked him religiously after so he thinks he won that trade off) to reveal your breasts and he smiles, more to himself than anything, leaning down to take a pert nipple into his mouth and sucking hard, his teeth grazing the sensitive skin. you reel at the feeling, hands finding immediate purchase in his fluffy locks and you don’t stop the whimper that leaves your plump, bitten lips.

“so receptive, aren’t you, pretty?” he asks and it’s more than likely rhetorical because he carries on pulling down the dress down your waist, until you can shake it off your ankles and it falls somewhere underneath the backseat, accompanied by his top in mere seconds.

nimble fingers creep their way down to where you really want him and his hand sneaks into your panties, smearing your desire all over fingertips so he can really get a feel and you’re writhing, all impatient and embarrassed under the heavy crystal gaze of the man, his milky lashes batting against his cheekbones.

“so wet f’me, fuck, pretty girl,” he whispers, leaning back down to press hardened kisses at your neck and collarbones - to prepare you for the two long fingers that slip into your pussy and you clench, both outward and inward.

the sound of your sloppy cunt meeting the knuckles of gojo’s hand is so incredibly loud and so incredibly wet - and he chuckles again when you try to close your eyes to ignore the stare of his ocean blues zeroing in on your facial expressions.

“wish you could see how well this pretty lady opens up for me,” and the half baked praise makes you burn, tears brimming as your damp lashes bat against your flushed cheeks. one of your hands wraps around gojo’s neck so you can place chaste, messy kisses on his mouth (lest another lewd word comes out as you’re pretty sure you could come just by his expansive and quite sexual verbiage) and the other wraps pathetically around his own that’s exploring the depths of your tight wet cavern that’s clenching sporadically.

gojo is always so messy with it: smearing your wetness all over the expanse of your cunt lips to tease at your sensitive pearl with ease; not before dipping a third finger back inside and searching for that cakey spot inside you. you cry out a meaningless, “‘toru, i-i’m- can’t, hnngh,” your hand making a weak attempt at slowing his fast acting wrist but he laughs again, like he always does when you get like this.

“need’ya to come all over my fingers, baby, can you do that?” and just like that, he sets you off, and he lifts a hand for your lolling head to fall back as the weight of your simmering climax hits you like a freight truck, damp thighs tightening over his hand and an aroused, “just like that, yeahhhh, good girl, good girl,” echoes around the jeep, which doesn’t do much to quell the overall stifling thirst in your gut.

gojo acts fast, in everything that he does, and today is no different when he slides your panties down your slender legs and strips himself till he’s nothing but washboard abs and a hardened, tan cock. he sets himself on his haunches - between your legs and your arms find purchase around his wide shoulders, and you find yourself unable to stop the kisses that press along his jugular. he’s told you this multiple times but you tend to get extremely needy after an earth shattering orgasm (his words, not yours) but he welcomes the doting nonetheless, placing himself around your head and he leans down to slot his lips against yours. you mewl when he bites down at your lower lip and the minty, citrusy taste of his tongue can only be attributed to the peppermint gum he was chewing before and the taste of yours truly.

gojo leans up once more, cerulean blues darkened and dilated.“ready for me? gonna put it in. nice and slow, just how-”

“just stop talking and do it already!”

he tuts teasingly at the raise of your voice, “so impatient.” the head of his cock knocks on your clit a couple times, running between your folds and you’re about to snap back when his cock finds purchase at the first ring of your cunt hole.

his girth sinking in and stretching you wide, his answering whine almost louder than yours, eyes threatening to clamp shut as he feeds you the long stretch of his cock. the scratchy, high pitched noise that leaves the your throat shocks the both of you and you’re suddenly reminded just how different his fingers feel from the weight of his fat cock, the puffed up veins brushing against your tender walls.

the air in the backseat of his car makes your bodies slippery with sweat - the windows are clouded with the condensation of your meandering while you squirm underneath him, your breath wheezing out of your lungs until you can’t breathe. “look at that.” 

“wish you could see yourself, princess,” he gasps, a cavalier smirk on his lips but it falters when you squeeze ‘round him just right, sore cunt fluttering against the hard swell of his cock. his dark blues dim, blunt fingernails opting to stop digging into your squishy sides for leverage not to fuck deeper but to instead grip under the seat you’re on to slow himself down, because even after all this time, you feel too fucking good and he needs a minute, damn it, he’ll cum too fucking fast and you won’t get to cum at all-

the rest is a mirage, lost in the way you’re splayed out for him now, knees now bent to your shoulders and his long fingers desperately digging into the backs of your trembling thighs to hold them in the air. the position is only slightly uncomfortable and you thank your lucky starts that you’re flexible, (you kind of have to be when gojo likes to fold you in various positions) but even if it was, you don’t care, not when he’s got your breasts bouncing mutely, with his chest pressed against your jiggling ones, with each repeated, dirty slam of the tip of his cock right up against your womb until you can practically feel him in your stomach, in your throat: stealing the uncontrolled moans right from your voice box. 

“look at you, squirtin’ all over me, angel,” gojo groans, stamping down the fast advent of his orgasm as arousal streams down the curve of your ass, wetting the expensive seats of his mercedes. watching the way your swollen, puffy pussy spasms and tries to force him out but it only makes him drive deeper, his pace brutal— his hips and upper back rouged red from the friction of your bodies slapping together and the digging of your manicured nails between his shoulder blades. “prettiest pussy in the whole world. you know that? wanna give you everything you want and more.” 

you keen at the praise, tears dribbling down your face now, “‘toru, ‘toru, ‘s too much, i-hahhhh- ‘m gonna make a mess,” you babble mindlessly. “wan’ you to cum inside me plea- pleash, pleashhh.”

“ohh, shouldn't have said that, sweet girl. ooooh, f-fuck. you shouldn't. have- hah - said. that. fuck fuck fuck, i'm gonna put my cum right here,” he chants desperately, a big hand splaying out on your belly, pressing down hard when the head of his cock bulges against your lower tummy, as his thumb dips low, circling your sticky clit almost impatiently. the words punctuated by the heavy slap of his balls against your ass, the backseat hitting violently against the ground. his spine tenses, orgasm building in the pit of his gut and he can’t wait to feel it, to see the dribble of his cum seep between your folds. “you want it, huh? gonna take care of it f’ me, aren’t you? promise ‘toru you won't spill a drop on the seats?”

“yes, yes, i prom- promise, please ‘toru, wan’ you to cum inside me so bad!” you whine loudly and gojo leans even more forward to place a hand against the condensation on the car windows, eyes falling shut and beads of sweat dripping down and pooling in the dip of your bellybutton as he continues crowding your every senses with his smell, his stature, his everything.

gojo dramatically collapses on top of you and you sigh, having to hold onto him so you don’t slip and fall naked bottom to the hard floor of the backseat, “do you have to do that every time, satoru?”

he chuckles breathily, “no, but you like it.” you don’t reply to that, just wrap your arms tighter around him as gojo kisses your damp hair and you manoeuvre a hand to brush away the hair that sticks to his forehead.

“you know you can get up now?” you deadpan, slightly breathless and gojo ponders before snuggling closer to you.

“yeah but if i pull out, you might get cum all over the seats and i don’t know if i could explain the stain to the guy who cleans my car.”

“…remind me to never take you shopping again,” you roll your eyes, pushing him off with your hands pinching at his hips and gojo slips out with a yelp at your assault and gasps, with as much melodrama he can: “it’s already getting on the seats! quick, hmmph-”

gojo shuts up with the press of your tongue in his mouth and he’s even quieter when he feels his spent cock harden against the thigh strewn across his stomach.

he may drop a pretty penny on you whenever you beg him to take you shopping but you drop an even prettier one when you wrap a hand around his neck and pull him down to lose yourself in another round once more.

besides, what’s one more stain to have to awkwardly explain to the cleaners?

࿄ ! — all rights reserved © MOOMINSUKI 2023. please do not copy, translate, repost nor recommend my work outside of tumblr. this is strictly prohibited.

[rewrittenmha]

Fixing Hawks

Stuck on the Sports Festival Arc right now so I thought I'd address what's probably going to be the biggest character change of the rewrite. This will be slightly spoiler-y for the rest of the rewrite so be warned.

Hawks' backstory mostly stays the same. Keigo's father is abusive and his mother takes him on the run. His father eventually gets arrested by Endeavor and he's scouted by the HPSC. His mother basically trades him in exchange for a luxurious life and exoneration for her involvement in her husband's affairs

Keigo is trained diligently to be one of the top heroes and a poster boy for heroism. But he's being turned into a weapon, learning to kill with no hesitation. Being taught that his targets aren't like the people who need protecting, that they need to die for the sake of peace and order

When Keigo turns eight, his training is primarily handed over to his senior, Kaina Tsutsumi. She's different than his other teachers, she's kind and funny and treats him like a person instead of a weapon

But Kaina is spiraling. Keigo is too young to fully understand, but even he can see that her actions are becoming more erratic. She's hesitating on missions and her disdain towards their superiors is something she can't hide. He doesn't understand; aren't they supposed to do what they're told? When he asks her about it, she tells him that their superiors aren't as righteous as they pretend to be. She tells him that by doing their work for them, she's just as bad. But she tells him that he has a chance to be better. She implores him to do what he thinks is right, even if their superiors would condemn it

Despite this, him and Kaina remain close. She's the only one who's ever cared about him as well as being the only person he's ever known how to care about. When the toll of their job gets to be too much, he finds comfort and warmth in her presence. He doesn't remember his mother's face, but when he thinks of her, it's Kaina's smile he envisions

Kaina is arrested by the time he turns nine. She killed the HPSC president and was locked away in Tartarus for it. And Keigo is left alone once again

For a few years, he doesn't take her words to heart. He's given a job to do and he fulfills it perfectly every time. Sometimes, his superiors ask about anything Kaina told him, but out of respect and loyalty for her he acts stupid. Pretends that he hadn't understood anything she said. They seem to believe him, as he doesn't hesitate to get the job done

Things change when Keigo becomes a hero. Thanks to the Commission's ruthless training, he quickly breaks into the Top 10. He's never interacted with citizens on a social level, so he tries to mirror Kaina the best he can: calm, coy, and playful. It seems to work as his demeanor does well at putting people at-ease

His first kill as a hero is the day he understands what Kaina was trying to tell him all those years ago. The blood stains his hands even when he washes it away. How can he smile in these people's face when he's as vile as the murderers they condemn? How can he pretend to be virtuous when he's covering up the cracks in society? He's no hero. But in this society where the good guys are no better than the bad guys, do heroes even exist?

It's on this day that Keigo Takami becomes determined to change the corruption he's been trained to uphold and protect. No matter the cost

I will always be pissed about how Horikoshi missed every opportunity with Hawks. He was the perfect character to expose the HPSC and society and try to change things for the better. Instead, he perpetuates the cycle of abuse and corruption, and becomes the HPSC president for some reason?? Horikoshi wtf.

At every angle, Hawks has been stripped of his autonomy. Not only did he unknowingly admire an abuser despite being a victim of abuse himself, once he found out there was zero reflection. He never got to rise up against or call out the HPSC despite being forced to be a child assassin. What pisses me off is that these things could have easily been fixed. A panel or so to reflect on his misplaced admiration of Endeavor would have been doable. Having him talk to Lady Nagant after Izuku beat her would have been doable.

But Hawks doesn't get to be anything more than a prop for Endeavor despite being in the perfect place narratively to address everything wrong in MHA society.

I kind of changed the timeline since Kaina is 16 years older than Keigo and would have been arrested when he was seven. Gave them a couple of years together. Because for some reason Hawks isn't allowed to have any relationships past an abusive middle-aged man

[tickpro]

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[zvaigzdelasas]

The world’s chocolate industry could be in for a turbulent ride as the two biggest cocoa producers set down demands for manufacturers to pay higher prices for their growers. The quarrel focuses on the Living Income Differential (LID) – a policy that Ivory Coast and Ghana introduced in 2019 to fight poverty among cocoa farmers in the global US$130-billion chocolate market. Under it, Ivory Coast and Ghana vowed to charge a premium of US$400 per tonne on all cocoa sales, starting with the 2020/21 harvest.

But trade boards in the countries – the Ivorian Coffee-Cocoa Council (CCC) and the Ghana Cocoa Board (Cocobod) – say the scheme is being undermined as cocoa traders depress the price of another premium that operates in parallel.[...]

The two countries together account for 60 per cent of the world’s cocoa but their farmers earn less than six per cent of the industry’s global revenue.

They are threatening to punish corporations by barring them from visiting plantations to estimate harvests – a key factor in cocoa price forecasting. They are also threatening to suspend sustainability programmes that chocolate giants use to enhance their image with fast-growing ethnic consumers.

“This boycott and also ultimatum is to draw attention to the fact that inasmuch as it is important for us to talk about deforestation, it is important to talk about child labour, it is equally important to talk about the farmer income,” said Boafo.[...]

Some experts say the chocolate giants have factored the LID into their costs but claw back some of this by exerting pressure on another premium based on the quality of cocoa beans.

This premium, known as the origin differential, has plunged below zero in recent years, effectively cancelling out part of the LID.

19 Nov 22

[sgiandubh]

Tools of the trade

Came home an hour ago from a reception I literally fled (busy week in this respect, unfortunately). And I kept being internally nagged during the short taxi ride, by what is probably at least this season's Anon. Landed in @bat-cat-reader's inbox with regard to Marple's most recent innuendo:

I had to know more about this, since I had no idea such deep diving tools were now available for pretty much everyone. Here's the gist of how it works, in pics and a quick review:

What Snoopreport promises its subscribers is to basically keep them posted on the targeted accounts' online behavior patterns...

... without the need to publicly follow them on Insta (sounds familiar?)...

...leaving no trace (zero accountability, because it uses only public data: this can be interpreted differently, in a different legal system/context, since several European countries, as I already discussed, have more protective legal provisions for a person's right to his/her own image)...

... at minimal costs (I suppose the most cost-effective, if we assume this is one of the used monitoring tools, would be the small business pack, allowing the super sleuth to track 10 different accounts, for peanuts):

A review of this product I have checked here (https://www.techuntold.com/snoopreport-review/) points out the obvious Achilles' heel of this app. Snoopreport obviously does not work for private accounts:

Which brings up a logical question: could the (in)famous 'resource' be S's private Insta account, in which case it would be very difficult for the sleuth to admit stalking it? Is it even technically possible to stalk a private Instagram account and remain unseen?

The answer to the latter is yes: other actors of this apparently very lucrative market, such as Glassagram (https://glassagram.com/), do not have Snoopreport's scruples and monitor even private accounts.

I think this is pretty self-explanatory and to be honest, it gave me the chills:

Serious reviews (https://www.techuntold.com/glassagram-review-spy-instagram/) are raving about this one, calling it the best app on the market, mainly because you can save all the snooped content on your own device:

... and the price, for stalking (their own choice of vocabulary, not mine, for once) an unlimited number of accounts is reasonable:

Best of it? They've been around since 2017.

In a nutshell: is it legal? it would seem so, in the US, not so sure about the UK/EU. Is it moral? It's up to you to decide what to think of a firm which has no problem admitting to encouraging stalking (but hey, don't listen to the nutcase here, huh?) and uses completely different real-life situations (infidelity, kids' monitoring) to assert its legitimacy and utility.

What I mean by this very long and illustrative post is this: you do not need inside sources/information to have one day the idea of crossing what is obviously (at least in my book) a red line. You just have to be able (lots of free time), willing (asserting power over a very thirsty and not so digitally skilled audience) and voilà: a Super Sleuth is born.

It is one thing to analyze and speculate, based on open sources, to your heart's content. It is a different affair altogether to obsessively monitor someone, with so much detail and personal (& financial) investment, over a substantial period of time. I will die on this hill and you will never change my mind on this one.

Is the emperor naked? I wouldn't venture speculating. What I do know, is that this emperor is a very, very sad one.

[mhalachai]

some of you may have seen a notice today from a tumblr-popular youtube show, saying they're putting all their content behind a subscriber paywall. This post isn't about them per say, only bouncing off what that has brought up into the following:

When is a digital subscription something i'm willing to pay for? Rubric edition

Disclaimer - my first news job was in the early aughts at a digital stock news company, so I've been keeping an eye on this subject for over 25 years.

So you want to access an entertainment or news service that has content behind a subscriber paywall. What steps should you go through, to figure out if it's something that you should pay for?

This post will go off the caveat that artists/authors/reporters (I'm not calling them content creators, that term is garbage) should be properly compensated for the works they produce, and the current business model in our late-stage capitalist society means we all have to deal with the worst possible way of engaging with art - the subscription-model paywall. It's a terrible garbage system but there we are.

Step Zero: Do you care enough about the content to consider paying for it?

It might not be important enough to you to want to pay for, and that's okay. On the other hand, you may want to continue watching/reading/listening, either because of the content itself or because you want to support its creation.

(I'm separating the above as they are two different reasons - personally, i'm in favour of paying an annual subscriber fee to my small local news room to keep them in producing the content because I think it's important they exist.)

Step 1: Can you literally afford it?

Everything costs more and salaries aren't rising. If the answer to the question is no, can you split the cost with someone? Is it something that can be accessed through your local library (in terms of audiobooks or magazine/newspapers)? Otherwise, moving to:

Step 2: Is the cost of the subscription in line with what you're willing to pay for the content?

I still subscribe to the newspaper i used to work for - I can read all the news and get all the quotes I'm interested in, and I know i'm supporting local news. I'm willing to pay money for that.

On the other hand, back last year when Disney Plus announced it was raising its prices, I decided that I wasn't interested in paying that amount for what I was getting, so I cancelled that one. Do I miss it? Yes, somedays. Would I go back to them if the cost went down? Honestly I don't know.

Step 3: Did the company/channel do something to lose your trust?

Sometimes, all the above have been met with the affirmative, but something about how the company is doing things sets your teeth on edge. Maybe it's how their business model is evolving, or how they treat their customers (Netflix and their password sharing crackdown was that tipping point for me - i no longer wanted to support a company that sees its customer base like that). Maybe it's how they decided to move to subscriber-only. Maybe it's their take on geopolitical or social issues. Whatever it might be, you get to make that call for you.

Summation: Don't feel pressed by FOMO to pay for something when you're not comfortable doing so.

Whatever the situation is, you get to decide where you spend your money. The corollary of that is that you may not get to see the new stuff created by companies/channels that you like, but honestly? That trade-off might be better for you in the long run (and I'm saying this with too many years of regret behind me) nothing poisons the enjoyment of art more than feeling like you were forced to pay/pay more for it than you were OK with.

The tl;dr: Take a step back and see if you're really comfortable with paying for all your electronic subscription fees for news or entertainment. Don't feel pressured into paying for something you don't really want to see, or what to support. Consider where you want your money to go.

It's hard economic times - do what you need to, and spend your money where you want to.

(And check into what your local library has on offer - they may have streaming services or digital content you weren't aware of - might be enough to tide you over for a while).

[mi-nya-mi]

hiiiii i love your art and how you draw Elliott it’s so gorgeous ❤️

also i have to know since you mentioned it. your Elliott headcanons 👀

TYSM ANON 💖 😍

So as for how I see Elliott in my interpretations:

GENERAL

I personally see him being around 34, super neurodivergent (most likely undiagnosed), and having already lived life and a past stable job that wasn’t his cup of tea before realizing he’s getting up there in his years. This eventually would motivate him to take the leap of faith that’s moving to Pelican town and moving into the writers retreat. Of course you’re going to have to suspend your disbelief significantly about him making absolutely zero progress that is his novel in the year long span he’s in Pelican town, so I could only assume that either he worked on publishing shorter form stories and taking up commissions, or already started working on his novel long before the farmer arrives and is just asking for the assistance of a beta reader. Either way, while it’s hard to judge the cost of rent in Pelican Town with regards to staying in that cabin, let’s just assume that he had plenty of money saved in order to work without needing to worry about keeping the lights on.

BACKSTORY

We know absolutely nothing about Elliott's socioeconomic background so it’s hard to glean whether he grew up poor, middle class, or wealthy. Even with his expensive tastes he could fit in any of those categories. Whether he did develop his more gentlemanly qualities from being born with a silver spoon or just developing it in order to give off a certain impression to other people, I wouldn’t know. His lack of interest in divulging his backstory could mean that it’s the latter if it comes from shame, but I could also very much believe that he had a family that were old money and preferred Elliott to take up whatever family trade that they had or a respectable profession(trading firm, banking, business, etc.) To my point, he likely had a family given profession that they pressured him to take up that made him plenty of money, and he saved up enough money to keep him afloat before calling it quits. (And considering his expensive tastes as well as my headcanon being that he’s practically buff, I doubt he would neglect his personal health by ordering cheap foods. He would have the means to eat well.)

LIFESTYLE

On the topic of health! Listen, with Elliott mentioning his rugged physique and him basically being Stardew Fabio, it’s hard to see him as a stick. I think Elliott very much enjoyed sports in his college years such as fencing (albeit he likely wouldn’t be able to deal with fighting monsters whatsoever despite his claim), and maybe even horseback riding/polo. (That man’s a stallion! What wouldn’t be more fitting? Plus shoveling shit gets you fit.) He also likely fished prior to meeting Willy, and still would do it for fun. Much to the contrary of most fan headcanons I don’t think Elliott is much of a regular swimmer, mainly because neither seawater nor chlorine would bode well for his hair. If anything, it would be a leisurely activity as opposed to one related to fitness. The other thing that contributes to his general physical fitness is that Elliott for the most part hardly uses any electric appliances outside of necessities (such as a phone), partly due to the lack of sufficient sockets and amenities in his cabin but largely for the aesthetic. He’s very much unplugged and rarely uses social media. Because he hardly uses electric appliances, he is in charge of all the housework which includes chopping all of his firewood, handwashing, drying, and ironing all of his clothes, and occasionally crab potting his own lobster dinners if he’s lucky. This man is on top of his housework! He genuinely enjoys this meditative routine of housework he has as he mulls over thoughts on his novels.

Overall those are my general headcanons I have so far on Elliott, but if you every have specific prompts feel free to send them my way :D

[urlocalrambler]

DN fanfic: an exploration into Kai Mori's mind while he's in prison. Introspective piece. So get ready for self-loathing, the woes of the disgraced son and the Banks reminiscence and yearning that we deserved.

My first Devils Night fanfiction ever. Actually, it's my first writing piece in a long time in general, but fuck it, we balling. I've always struggled a little with understanding Kai, but I think this piece helped me get more of a grip on my characterisation of him <3.

_

Kai sits in jail, and he knows he's a scrouge on his family name. He’s the shameful blot in their lineage, the fuck up who keeps on giving even when all they want is for him to stop. Kai's the shadow in his family's illustrious life. A good boy gone wrong, the ungrateful child, responsible for his mother's tight smiles and fervent worry — he’s the parasite leeching away at his mother's kindness, carelessly ruining the happy life his father fought to give her. It took one blow of a hammer slamming against a gavel, and his parents have a sword of humiliation rammed into their guts. The pain is only dug in deeper with the indignity of a sentence of 28 months lost to the confines of walls crammed to the brim with prisoners, with his fitted suits for interviews traded in for a standardised orange jumpsuit, as a lifestyle befitting of an animal is thrust into the hands of their only son. 

The worst part is that they still loved him despite his neverending failures.

"–Gave him three broken ribs. So he fractured his fucking spine."

"Who?"

"The rich brat. Mori. He didn't even hesitate."

"Shit, he might belong here, after all."

Yeah, maybe he does belong here.

From the start of it all, he's been the defining reason for the lines marring his father's forehead, those were wrinkles etched in from worrying about Kai's unfortunate tendencies, but he's still forgiven again and again for every indiscretion that they catch him in and he learns to forgive himself for the thousands that they don't know about as a default. Kai's allowed to follow his own path even if it means spitting at his father's feet and disparaging the legacy that Katsu built with his roughened hands. It's wrong, grievously so, but he takes the chances and the freedom, Kai proves he's a certified fuck up. Useless boy who's worth nothing much when compared to the father who tried to give him every head start in life no matter what it cost. Katsu's a man who pulled his family out of poverty, he gives his wife her old life back tenfold, and Kai’s the worthless son who ruins it by gorging himself on endless vices, amusing himself by toeing the lines, and eventually, he gets a crew and starts obliterating the lines. Never improving even as they ardently pray for him, Kai only gets worse as the years pass.

Everyone knows it in Thunder Bay. Kai Mori's a cautionary tale in the flesh. 

The good boy who gets caught up in the wrong crowd and suffers for it. Prince amongst the heathens, gilded gold stained by their tar, a demon playing at being an angel. Kinder smiles and 'thank you's' on his tongue don’t get rid of the taste of sin, but they mask it well enough. Until it suddenly doesn't anymore, and they see that he's made of the same strokes as his friends. Demon, not an angel. Predator, not the prey. Villain, never a prince. Sins can't be hidden forever in a modern era of phones to the ear and the glimmer of cameras catching their every move. He should’ve known better than to have expected zero consequences – Kai hid his truths better than his friends ever managed to, but an unchained nature couldn't be hidden forever.

People were predisposed to making assumptions. 

In Thunder Bay, they accepted and revered the version of him that they thought they knew, and they share their aggrieved regrets as his fall from grace occurs in the brightened spotlight. Analysed just like Icarus, with a tragic fate of his own making – Kai can't meet his father's eyes for the first couple of weeks after his wrongs are aired to the public. Kai Mori had potential in spades, the gossip somberly chastens, and he squandered it away on freedom ravelled within insanity, he wasted a guaranteed future on the kind of lust that made priests look away in discomfort, and he ruined himself due to a useless loyalty towards friends that should've never amounted to much more than a footnote in his life.

Outsiders never understood how the blood of the covenant could run thicker than the water of the womb. They didn't feel the allure of darkness in its fullest form. Nor could they understand the power that control gave him when it was cradled in his palms, and he had chaos biting at his neck. She had, though, that one girl who hides in his mind just like she'd veiled herself into that confession all those years ago– she understood it all, and she even fed into it back then. 

He wonders what she felt when she saw him in cuffs. 

Mystery Girl was among his worst mistakes, mostly because she quickly became his darkest daydream and a favourite nightmare.

Kai's quiet when he does it. In the showers, when heat spindles against the mirror, he washes off the heat of shame by engaging in more depravity. He thinks about her often. And he's not gentle, not even close to it. Whenever he thinks about girls wrapped up in men's clothes, in shirts that aren't his, he's harsh and angry because they should've been his clothes, she should've been his girl. He thinks of smart quips on the curve of her lips, and he wonders how sweet it would've been to have held her and shut her up in the way he'd desperately wanted to whenever she said the name of a man who wasn't him. Kai's got a hand on his cock and he jerks it hard to the thoughts of her. 

Chocolate hair. Green eyes. Golden skin. Daydreams and nightmares. 

She's the only thing he never got that he'd desperately wanted in his golden years; she's the thing he still wants so carnally even in his darkest hours. Wants her thighs wrapped around his torso, wants his name to be the only thing she's capable of saying by the time he's done with her, wants her marked and ruined by the touch of him and him only. Indulging in her, Kai knows, would've been his favourite sin. Back then, he got only a speck, got nothing more than a touch, and he'd still been hopelessly addicted, high on fumes when he had the wisp of her silhouetted in his arms, and he was in withdrawal whenever he lost her to a man he hated and loved in equal measure. Just a taste back then, just the thoughts now, and he's still maddeningly hooked on her. Pretty girl, harsh girl, but never his girl. Sweet like candy with a tangy kick to her. She's the only drug in his veins, inching in without warning, putting him in a trance and an unruly high.

In the dead of night, she visits him, and Kai welcomes her. 

He is a fuck-up, Kai knows it well. Somehow, he's still so ready to engage in the betrayal of his brother in everything but blood. Damon's down in a living nightmare in solitary, and he dreams of stealing his girl. He dreams of using her up. He yearns to take her and have her feed the desires of his concupiscent flesh for as long as he wants, and he thinks he wants to keep her for months, for years, for as long as it takes until she feels more his than anything else.

Irreverent lust, onerous fingers, amatory desires, and all for what? A girl he had known all of a couple of weeks. And he thinks he'd sell the flesh on his back to go back to that time with her. For her, he thinks he'd do anything because if she's a reverie then he's a victim to the ghost of her. Kai thinks of her and that hotel room, and he wonders why he let his dream girl go. 

She's the only person to ever make him feel alive, to make him feel desire on an impulse, the only one who could easily stoke his dangerous need for control, and she did it all without ever trying. No fight to take and no need to make his blood boil; there was no need to force himself into those conversations with her because he was already obsessed with her voice from the second he heard it. Everything came naturally when it was with her. 

He thinks she could've been his if she hadn't been Damon's to keep. 

Kai laughs when he grips the plexiglass, breathes harder, and strokes faster– she's certainly not either’s now, and she wasn't his back then, but she is all Kai’s in the darkness of his mind. Smooth skin pressed against his chest, lips to his neck, and she's begging for it, for his dirty criminal's hands to stay on her neck. Moaning, whining, crying for more. He's undone by the idea of her, air caught in the chasm of his lungs, knuckles tightened to a pale white, as he gives into his favourite nightmare. Kai's spent by the thought of her, the evidence washed away by water, as his back presses against the shower wall. 

Suddenly, he's almost glad that he doesn't see Damon here at all. Kai tries to convince himself that he should be relieved that he'll likely never see her again either (it doesn't work but he tries). If he doesn't see her, then it means the fantasies, the output of those unreachable desires, can stay intact.

There's no Damon to stop him. No dancer in a hotel to distort what they could've had. No blood to mop away and no nights to hide away. It was just him and her again.

In his dreams, Banks is everything he still desires.

In his dreams, she belongs to no one else.

In his dreams, Banks is all his.

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