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[joshfutturman]

"like you were made for me" 18+

oneshot - soft dom josh tries his best to talk you through it, but he can't stop whimpering and moaning. (1.9k words) pairing - josh futturman (future man) + gn!reader tags: porn with no plot, doggystyle, soft!dom josh, pre-established relationship, gender neutral reader, penetration, kissing, no use of y/n, dirty talk, pre dick swap ig lmao, whimpering and whining, praising, creampie, petnames.

.・。.・゜✭・. .・。.・゜✭・. .・。.・゜✭・.

he slips inside of you and lets out something between a moan and a whine, his firm grip on your hips tightening. you're splayed out on his bed, ass up, face down in his blue sheets. you watch eagerly over your shoulder as he pushes inside of you with a slow thrust. his eyes are on you, mouth forming an 'o' shape as he tries to steady his breathing.

your brows knit together, feeling him ease in, letting a moan slip of your own as he fills you so perfectly. "fuck, baby. . ." you whisper through another moan, trying not to clench around him - you know he won't last if you do.

josh mutters something under his breath, a small pep talk to himself as he loses himself in the feeling of you so tightly wrapped around him. "you feel s-so good. . ."

he eases out, and then back in, slow thrusts that have your back arching in the hopes of him going impossibly deeper inside of you. josh continues his sluggish pace, trailing a hand from your hip to the small of your back, pressing his palm down on your warm skin.

"t. . . takin' it s. . . so wel- fuuuuck. . ." josh melts against you. with each thrust he loses himself deeper into you, his throbbing cock begging for release. . . begging for more of you. he's so hard he swears it almost hurts.

and you smirk, knowing he can't even form complete sentences because of how good you're making him feel. "what was that, babe?" you chirp.

he gasps, furrowing his brow with his eyes tightly closed, "you're such- such a good- oh fuck. . ." swallowing thickly, he tries again, "you're- mhfff..." a whimper cuts him off, that sweet, sweet whimper of his. you could listen to it all day - the way it drips from his lips like honey.

you know he's trying to talk you through it, desperate to praise you and lavish you with sweet words but he just. . . can't. something about the way you feel, the intoxicating feeling of being inside of you, his cock pumping in and out at a lazy pace, he's falling apart already. just as he always does.

"keep talkin' to me, baby. . ." you whisper encouragingly, propping yourself up on your elbows as you keep your eyes on him, completely mesmerised by the intricate shift in his facial expression with every thrust.

he nods, josh would do anything you asked, anything. "mhm, you. . . you like that?" he hums, trying his absolute best. opening his eyes, he notices you looking back at him and another whimper falls from his lips as he locks eyes with you.

slowly, you nod - and then he picks up the pace in response, making you flinch a little at the sudden increase of pleasure. but you keep your gaze locked on his, silently encouraging him.

"you take me so. . . so well. my cock- hhhhf. . . fits perfectly inside of you," he whines, the words coming out before he even has a chance to think about what he's saying. both of his hands return to your hips, "oh fuck, j. . . just like that. . ." josh's eyes trail down to watch himself disappear inside of you.

you moan, eyes closing over as he attempts to form sentences. it's so hot, so cute, how he completely falls apart for you as soon as he slips inside your tight hole. he wants to make sure you feel good, that you feel taken care of, even if he can't even form one complete sentence.

"that's it. . . t-takin' my cock like a good- mhhhhf!" josh groans, head tilting back as his mouth falls open. he huffs into the air, his grasp on your hips growing tighter as his fingers dig into your flesh, "holy fuck!" he cries out.

biting your lip, you tense up, holding back any praises of your own - you want to make him feel like he's the one in charge, the one guiding this, even if you both secretly know that he's a mess at being in control most of the time. the praising can come later when he's pumped you full of his cum and is falling asleep on your chest.

you feel it pooling in your belly, that familiar urge, the overwhelming pleasure threatening to wash over you. the way josh's face is trembling, you can tell he's close too.

he feels almost feverish, his temperature rising as his dick glides in and out of you faster and harder. he doesn't just want you, he needs you, and he feels this every time you fuck. he can't think straight, mind focused on the sensation of his dick throbbing against your tight walls. small praises tumble from his lips, calling you pretty pet names as thoughts of you cumming around him clouds his entire being.

the intensity of his thrusts increases, causing his bedside table to shake, and his collection of precious figurines threatens to topple to the ground. but he doesn't care. he's too lost in you to care. how can he care when you're taking him so good like that, making all those sweet noises and looking over your shoulder at him the way you are?

"y. . .you gonna cum for me?" he gasps suddenly, attempting to sound dominant, and failing, his voice high-pitched and shaky.

but fuck, it still gets you. it's hotter that he's trying and failing. that boy is a loser, and that's what makes you want him so fucking badly.

"yes. . ." you groan with a nod, gripping his sheets as he pushes you forward with every thrust, his bed creaking under the pressure.

josh grins a little, mouth half open as he struggles to keep his breathing steady. he's feeling brave. hesitating for a few moments, he finally speaks, "say please."

your eyes snap open, looking up at him over your shoulder in surprise. his words cause you to clench around him, fluttering at his attempt at a commanding tone.

shit, that was kind of hot.

". . .what?" you blurt out.

he swallows hard, "i-i said, say please. . . and. . . i'll let you cum," josh bites his lip. it's too much. he can't stay upright anymore. his body hunches over yours, wrapping an arm around your stomach as he pistons into you with renewed vigour, one hand planted onto the bed for support.

"holy shit, josh," you whisper, praising him with your tone of voice alone, "please. . ."

"oh fuck. . ." he whispers into your ear, feeling his dick twitch at your pleading. he plants small kisses behind your ear, sloppily. "that's it, you're so. . . hhhf- so good for me. . . takin' my dick so well. . ."

his words combined with the way he's quickly thrusting into you has you close, so fucking close. he's pressing down against you, hardly able to keep himself upright as he fights back his own release. at this angle, he's sliding deeper, going harder.

"you're so. . ah, tight," josh pants, breath ragged in your ear, "keep. . . keep moaning for me."

and you do, body lowering until you're flush against his sheets, cries dripping from your lips over and over. "baby, i-"

"shhh, i know," josh coos, breath hitching, "just c- ah. . . fuck. just cum for me. . ." his tongue hangs from his mouth in concentration, tilting his head down to suck and lick against your neck messily.

the combined sensation of his wet tongue lapping desperately against your neck and fucking you like it's the last time he'll ever see you has you seeing stars. you claw at the sheets, gripping them into bundles in your fists, knuckles turning white. you can't hold on much longer, and neither can he.

you try to hold back, you really do, but suddenly he's whispering into your ear again.

"gonna take- hhhmmf. . . gonna take my cum baby? nice and deep?"

holy fuck it sends you spiralling over the edge, taking him by surprise. you're moaning and writhing, hips rolling backwards in an unsteady rhythm in an attempt to meet his faltering thrusts as you spasm around his hard cock.

his moans pick up, higher pitched, more a whimper than a moan, practically crying into your neck as he feels you clench around him over and over. he tries to speak, but more pathetic little noises roll off his tongue instead, sending you further into your orgasm.

"you- f. . . feel so fucking-. . . ah, ah, fuck!"

and you feel him - his dick twitching inside of you, cum coating your insides as he continues to thrust in a fading rhythm, desperate to fill you, to give you every last drop. you can hardly take it, the sensation bringing your pleasure to a whole new level as you squirm.

those pretty little noises he's making against your neck, they're heavenly. he always sounds so pretty when he cums, a symphony of whimpers and pleadings and gasps. it makes you want to make him cum over. . . and over. . . and over. . .

as his thrusts eventually begin to stall to a halt, he peppers sloppy wet kisses along your neck and shoulders, a silent thank you. his breath comes out in puffs against your skin, pressing his forehead to your back as he reluctantly pulls himself out of you with a hiss, eliciting a short whine from you.

josh sits up, trailing fingers through his now damp hair, his messy curls falling gently onto his forehead. he admires you below him, shoulders rising and falling with each breath you take. he traces his fingers along your spine, a soft, loving smile falling upon his lips.

you open your eyes, finding his as you turn over onto your back, placing your hands on his plush thighs on top of you. "well . . ." you begin to say.

"did i do good?" he perks up, smiling as he leans down, inches from your lips. his eyes sparkle, seeking praise as his eyes dance across your features.

you can't help but let a soft chuckle escape you, "so good, better than good."

he mirrors your chuckle, inching forward to capture your lips in a deep kiss as he giggles. you wrap your arms around him, relishing the way he desperately steals the kiss from you after you cum, every time you have sex.

"so. . ." he mumbles in between kisses, a smirk evident in his voice, "the. . . best?"

if your eyes were open, he'd see you roll them, "yes," you smirk, "the best."

josh basks in silent victory and you can feel the way his smirk widens through the kiss.

pulling back, you speak up, "but if you ever make me say 'please' to cum again, i'll kill you," you smirk, a joking tone.

his eyes lock with yours, a cheeky grin on his lips. "as if you didn't love it. . ."

"fuck you," you grin back.

josh can't help but laugh, raising an eyebrow, ". . . again?"

you pause, "this time, i'm on top."

his eyes widen, practically twinkling. he nods so hard and so fast that you worry he might hurt his neck. "yes." josh replies quickly, "please."

fuck, how was he so fucking cute? even better too, that he looks even cuter when you fuck his brains out while on top.

"roll over then." you command.

he salutes you and rolls over onto his back obediently, "aye-aye captain."

what a fucking dork. you love him so much.

.・。.・゜✭・. .・。.・゜✭・. .・。.・゜✭・.

‧₊˚ dedicated tags: @helen-on-earth @fatinhadesiners06 @boonam @sun-spider13 @laurrrelise @sammygirlism @sleepyhutcherson‧₊˚ ily all sm!! thank you!

.・。.・゜✭・. .・。.・゜✭・. .・。.・゜✭・.

[letternotekisses]

Could you do something for The trapper? Along the lines of getting caught in one of his traps in a game and he can't resist getting a good feel, it would be a waste to just be put on hook afterall!!

ily anon <3 cw for v slight mention of the trapper jerkin it, blood n gore and non consensual touching

You were his favourite.

You were keen and diligent, always glancing up and down to spot the glimpse of the metal jaws he'd primed in the greenery. You knew who he was - a hunter, tracking you through the dirty moss and bristling reeds in wait of your delicate ankles falling victim to his traps. Evan had waited so long to snatch you up, yet it seemed at every trials end you were disappearing into the fog - just out of arms reach.

This trial, however, felt different. Maybe the entity had finally heeded his requests in the bloodweb - his gnarled mask staring into the fire as he carelessly threw in another offering. Or rather, she'd heard his heavy grunts ringing out through the ironworks - Evan's breaths billowing out behind his mask in raspy moans that sounded suspiciously like your name.

Either way - his prize came forth in the form of a suspiciously easy trial - where he'd still yet to catch you. You'd tried your best in the end, unhooking your little friends every time Evan had strung them up like pigs to bleed, but it just wasn't enough. He seemed faster, stronger this round - cleaving through the other survivors like butter and leaving little old you all alone to find the hatch.

All it took was for one little misstep, the stress of your situation leaving you less alert than usual and allowing you the misfortune of stumbling right into the jagged metal of one of his traps. A shiver of dark delight fell over Evan once he heard your scream sound out into the cold air, why, you were only a few metres away, you sneaky little thing.

You claw at your ankle, hands slicked with blood as you try so desperately to pry the metal jaws away from your torn flesh. Your grip is made worse by the watery mud of the swamp, and it isn't long until you hear the thundering footsteps of the Trapper behind you, your heart hammering like a little hummingbird in your chest.

He's quick to splay a broad hand out on the small of your back, pushing you harshly into the mud so he can crane the trap off of your ankle. Evan can hear your pained whimpers, face buried into the crook of your arms as you wait for him to pick you up, or worse, mori you. Instead, the Trapper takes great satisfaction in moving his calloused hand underneath you, propping you up so he can rut himself against your back.

Evan practically growls against the back of your head, the gnarled carving of his mask jutting into your soft cheek. His breaths are thick and rugged as he reaches to palm your soft tits through the fabric of your top - your confused, indignant whimper only made it all the more delicious. He palms your hip in a deceptively soothing manner, his fat, heavy cock stiffening against the cleft of your ass.

But alas, the Entity hungers. The Trapper pulls away almost reluctantly, the Entity had gifted him greatly this trial - Evan would make sure to keep in her good graces for trials much like this in the future. You cry and squirm as he hoists you up, kicking against the broad wall that is his back when he stands straight, a hand kept firm on your ass in a very indiscreet manner. He growls, feeling his cock chubbed up against his boiler suit.

It's a damn shame to watch the Entity take you away, your body ascending into the sky as Evan observed, a pleased rumble reverberating through his chest. He continues to think about it long after the trial had ended.

When you pop back up at your shabby little campfire, confused and stammering as your survivor friends crowd you in attempts at comfort - Evan watches on from the treeline, palming at himself through his overalls. Now that the Entity had gifted him a taste of you - he only wanted more.

Poor sweet thing, you had no idea what was ahead of you now.

[ploompkin]

Idk whether I’ll have time to finish this, but…! Here- just a teaser of what could maybe-in-future be a full fic. Based on @ohsayit ‘s scenario I reblogged earlier 🤭

Summary: You steal Zevlor’s shirt. He wants it back. …And he’s willing to fight for it.

Pairing: (gender neutral) Zevlor/Reader ; Zevlor/Tav

Rating: T

Cw(s): Suggestive!! General sauciness, but nothing explicit.

—————————————————

“Tav.” Zevlor reaches out his hand, stance firm. “I need it. Give it here. Now, please.”

You prop your chin up on your knuckles, elbows on your knees, smug, because despite the irritation in his voice you can tell by his face that the sight of the oversized sleeves swallowing up your hands has him smitten.

With the most obnoxious smirk you can manage, you issue the challenge. “Come take it off me yourself.”

He sets his jaw, eyes narrowing dangerously. “You’re sure want to play this game?”

As an answer, you just lean back and undo another button— the shirt now gaping so wide it’s just short of exposing a nipple— and stick the tip of your tongue out. His reaction is priceless, body stiffening as his expression flits between aroused and annoyed too many times to count, until it settles on… neither. He looks at you blankly, and just when you’re wondering whether you’ve finally broken him, he lunges for you. You both fall backwards into your tent as you collide, landing in an awkward heap among the cushions. His initiative is better than yours though, and before you can even think what your next move will be, he has you pinned beneath him by the wrists. Both of your breaths mix, along with your gazes, heated. Then, you brace one foot on his thigh and lock your arms around his shoulder, throwing him off effortlessly- but he’s prepared for that, and immediately breaks into a roll to escape a counter attack, pushing himself up into a crouch. You mimic his stance (not like there’s room to stand in the tent anyway), and eye him warily. His tail swishes from side to side, a playful, but confident smile on his face.

“The shirt, Tav.”

But this is about more than the shirt now. This is about pride.

You lift your chin in defiance. “I’m starting to get attached to it, actually. Think I’ll keep it.”

He growls. “That wasn’t a request.”

“And that wasn’t a surrender.”

“Torm’s tears, you’re so…!—“ He grinds his teeth— “stubborn…!”

You just wink at him. “I am. And that’s why you love me.”

He huffs, but you see the lines of his face soften. Unfortunately though, although he calls you stubborn he’s much the same, and this fight is far from over. He stalks over to you, but before he can get close enough for whatever he has planned, you rush to tackle him at the waist. That proves to be a mistake. You might be agile and have a solid technique, but he has all of that and a set of infuriatingly strong muscles. So, you find yourself underneath him. Again. It’s enough to make your blood boil, irritating you as much as it is very rapidly turning you on— but when his teeth graze against your neck, your body quickly decides to favour the latter. A sigh falls from your lips as he kisses along the sensitive skin, followed by a shiver as he drags his tongue over your pulse, torturously slowly. His body feels so pleasantly firm against yours, and you’re suddenly desperate to have more of him, arching your hips up into his with what you’ll deny is a quiet whine. The adrenaline from the fight transforms into something else entirely, your head spinning with want as he encourages you, rocking against you.

Then, you feel it. Fingers creeping between you two, presumably trying to be stealthy, and moving to undo the rest of the shirt buttons.

Bastard!

Now he’s not expecting your resistance you’re more easily able to reverse your positions, pinning him in place with your thighs, doing your best to ignore the longing ache between them.

“You thought I wouldn’t notice you trying to steal it? Really?”

“Steal!” Zevlor scoffs, “I’m just taking back what is mine.”

“By seducing me.” You lean in closer, smiling sweetly. “What an underhanded technique for such an honourable soldier.”

He scowls at you. “If I remember correctly- and I most certainly do- you flashing me is the whole reason we’re in this mess.”

“Ahh, so it did get you hot and bothered. That’s good to know.”

“I’m only a man, Tav.” He grumbles. “I can hardly be blamed for it.”

“No.” Your smile widens, “but you can be for your actions. Tackling me into the tent?” You tsk. “Really, Zev. I took you for a gentleman.”

His lips twitch up at the corner, eyes hooded as he watches you. “You seemed to enjoy it well enough.”

Your mouths are only a hairs width apart now, and you can feel each heavy breath he takes as if it were your own. Just for a moment you forget yourself, and swallow thickly. He spots the bob of your throat and chuckles, hand sliding up the back of your neck and threading into your hair.

“One last chance,” he murmurs against your ear. “Return what you stole, and I’ll go easy on you. If not…”

He knows he doesn’t even need to finish the thought; your imagination will do the rest.

“You’re expecting me to beg for your mercy, rider?” He shudders as your lips brush, and your tongue darts out to kiss his lower lip. “Dream on.”

You groan lowly as his hands grab onto your hips, claws sinking in just shy of drawing blood.

“Mrag, your insolence knows no bounds.” A dark laugh tickles your cheek. “Very well. But don’t blame me if come tomorrow morning you regret it.”

[vampiric-hunger]

𝖑𝖆𝖈𝖗𝖎𝖒𝖔𝖘𝖆 𝖎𝖓 𝖗𝖚𝖇𝖊𝖔, 𝖘𝖆𝖓𝖌𝖚𝖎𝖓𝖆𝖗𝖎𝖚𝖘 𝖎𝖓 𝖆𝖙𝖊𝖗𝖔

𝖈𝖍𝖆𝖕𝖙𝖊𝖗 3 – 𝖘𝖔𝖒𝖇𝖊𝖗 𝖒𝖆𝖗𝖊𝖘 𝖔𝖋 𝖉𝖊𝖘𝖔𝖑𝖆𝖙𝖊 𝖊𝖈𝖍𝖔𝖊𝖘

⫸ pairing: Cazador Szarr/f!high elf reader

⫸ tags: no y/n used etc, POV second person, Dead Dove: Do Not Eat, psychological childhood trauma, fluff.

⫸ story summary: Accompanying your father, the General of Baldur's Gate, has always been a duty that bores you near to death, but for first time you feel completely unnerved as you come to Szarr mansion. The family's patriarch is a strange man and so is his wife and son. Son, who seems unperturbed by anything, until he's left alone with you that is. Then and only then, Cazador shows emotion and what kind of a threat he is. You realize soon - behind those dark eyes there's something dangerous lurking and your future soon becomes inescapably intertwined with his.

work contains illustrations, credit at the end

⫸ word count: 8,631

⫸ author note: yay, happy to give another chapter, do enjoy♡~

⫸ chapter list: [link]

“Out of suffering have emerged the strongest souls; the most massive characters are seared with scars.” ― Kahlil Gibran

1104DR

60 years later

“Are you listening to me?” Your father’s voice makes you snap out of your thoughts and you look at him, the dim light of candles is making his face appear rather ghostly, showing his age more than you’d like. A reminder that he’s not going to be around forever. A man of nearly six hundred years is definitely not at his prime anymore, even with his high-elf lineage, and when you see shaded creases on his face where years ago there were none, your heart aches for a brief moment.

“I am.” You respond simply and sigh, propping your chin on a heel of your palm.

This has been going on for several hours. Your father and his main troop, which of course means you as well, have been on a march for four days now. This time your scouts found a village that has been abandoned not that long ago, so the General decided to camp there for couple nights. But his teachings and lectures do not stop just because you carry the rank of a Captain in your own right. Seems like being your father and your commander at the same time gives him even more reason to lay out lessons for you.

“I’m not sure that you are listening. What is it on your mind, daughter of mine?” He asks and moves from the wall where the map of the land is pinned and walks closer, his leather shoes silent on the cobblestone floor and his hand on your shoulder is firm and warm, the heat of a palm quickly seeping through your shirt.

Rising your eyes to your father and meet his pale, silvery gaze. You gently smile, raising your hand and placing it over his.

“Nothing dad, I’m just tired from the march. All of us are.” You lie, of course you lie, because you cannot tell your father that what actually is on your mind and it’s a man who you can’t wait to sneak away to. You don’t even know which house he chose to reside in, but yours are next to your father’s, which you hope isn’t the best option there is for the rest of the evening.

“Tired? Your horse is maybe tired, but you shouldn’t be.” He teases gently, lifts his hand from your shoulder and caresses your cheek with a smile. “Are you sure it’s just tiredness?” General Sylven frowns ever so slightly, creases in his face deepening as he looks at you with worry but you just nod.

“Yes, I’m just sore. Say what you will, but I refuse to believe that your ass is not sore from sitting in a saddle entire day. And at your age too.” You give him a pointed, teasing look and your father pauses, then laughs loudly.

“You remind me of your mother.” He chuckles and steps away from you, walking up to a bottle of wine and pouring some for himself and another glass for you. His face suddenly becomes solemn and you see it clearly even if what’s visible to you is his profile.

“You miss her, don’t you?” You ask in a quieter voice and stand up from an old, creaky chair, then walk to him and place your hand on his in which he holds the glass meant for you. He always serves you in the same way.

Cradith pauses then looks at you and nods slightly with a sad smile.

“Every single day.” He admits and offers you the glass which you take. When your gaze rises to him again, you see pain etched in his features. His eyes fill with pain and the elder elf sighs as the look of those same silvery eyes becomes downcast in shame. “It’s my fault, what happened to her. I should’ve protected her better. I should’ve protected both of you better.” Cradith whispers and you quickly put the glass aside, stepping closer to your father and trying to catch his eyes with yours.

“Dad…” you pause and quickly cup his face with your palms, making him look at you at last. “It wasn’t your fault. It just happened. Things just happen. You didn’t know what would happen, you didn’t-“

Suddenly, you are pulled into a tight hug and father’s arms wrap around you firmly. He’s not crying, but you hear and feel his breathing against your shoulder against which he presses his forehead. You hug him back, gently and trying to be comforting, your palm strokes white hair cascading down his back.

“It’s alright, dad.” You whisper because you don’t know what else to say. Because you hurt too.

Because you remember too.

You remember that night. When the screams of your mother woke you when you were still barely older than a toddler. When you ran to your mother’s room, thinking that she hurt herself on accident and wanting to help. You remember how heavy your bare feet felt on the carpet as you turned a corner and saw the door open, as you saw the lights come up in the room, illuminating the shadowy figures that you couldn’t make out just yet. And your mother’s words, angry and loud, yelling to let her go. The sound of fabric ripping and her furious scream. More voices, mocking, telling to gag ‘the wretch’ before she starts biting.

You walked closer, the gilded room of white and peach opening up in front of you now like a poisonous flower. You didn’t recognize these people, all men dressed in black and brown. Slowly approached the open bedroom to finally see your mother, her gown, the bigger twin of yours, ripped and bloody, her naked body grasped at by hands of three men and pushing her into the bed while the fourth one stood by the side, brandishing a dagger in her direction. You called out to her then, confused, innocent, naïve. You never had to fear or hide before, nobody was ever a danger before, your mother and your father always stood tall, like two guardian statues, the cornerstones of your life. The image began to crack then as your mother’s panicked eyes finally saw you, her feral screams immediately becoming pathetic pleas. Pleas not to hurt you, not to touch you, and promises that she will do anything, that she won’t fight. The pain in your mother’s voice told you something was amiss and you started crying.

The men didn’t like it. The one with the knife quickly strode to you, but your mother’s scream stopped his dagger before it descended upon you. And so the man stood then behind you, his heavy hand on your shoulder and his blade against your throat, telling you not to close your eyes.

You remember with agonizingly clear detail how the three men raped your mother right in front of your eyes. First with their bodies, then with whatever tools they could find in the room. Laughing and drinking the wine that was there too, the heavy hand never leaving you, the cold metal forever pressing against your skin, and your tears, so hot on your face. It felt like they will never stop.

And then you remember screaming, calling for your mother. You remember her last, sad and battered look cast onto you and her last words. Be strong, my daughter, mother loves you. And knives that plunged first into her eye socket, silencing her forever. Knives that then plunged into her body so many times, like a flurry of brush strokes that you’ve seen painters do.

Blood.

So much of it.

They left then. Laughing, leaving you where you are, frozen and crying, calling for your mother, desperately wanting her to wake up. Long after the heavy footsteps faded you finally moved, getting closer to the bed, seeing that the blood soaked through it and now was spreading underneath it. To reach your mother you had to step in it and it still felt warm, but you didn’t care as you climbed into the bed and cradled your mother’s abused, destroyed body, letting your tears absolve her face from the crimson of brutality that took her away from you. You begged her to come back until your voice became no more than a whispery croak.

That’s how your father found you. You don’t remember the rest. You only remember the mourning rites and the funeral. The casket was closed, half of Baldur’s Gate attended if not more. You remember looking down at the coffin in the ground, your father’s hand on your shoulder and your tears falling onto the dark wood, just like they fell as you held her that night.

You remember.

But you wish you didn’t.

Cradith’s shoulders slump as painful memories stop flashing in your head and you open your eyes, looking ahead of you, at the map pinned to the wall, tracing rivers and roads with your eyes, trying your best not to let memories of that tragedy spin in your head like unwelcome pests.

“I’m sorry.” Your father mutters and you sigh with relief, seems like it was just a moment of weakness and your father is not going to fall apart in your arms.

He raises his head and sadly smiles at you, then presses a kiss to your forehead.

“Your mother would be proud of you.” He whispers and steps back, releasing you from his embrace.

“Dad, I-“

“You can go.” General turns his back to you and you pause, wanting to ask if he’s okay, if maybe you should stay, but you know your father better than anyone. So you sigh again and nod to his back.

“I’ll see you in the morning.” You say softly and turn to leave the room until his voice stops you by the door.

“I love you.” You hear and turn to see your father looking back at you, his eyes gentle and his smile reassuring. “Me and your mother, we both do.”

Your heart is squeezed with emotion and you nod to him again, smiling too, but finally you leave, you have to, you don’t want to think about that night anymore.

When you close the door behind you, you stop, inhaling then exhaling and lifting your eyes to the dark sky peppered with blinking stars. It’s beautiful and warm, the kind of night you would go for a long walk, especially after the old scar of your mother’s death began hurting again so easily.

But no, you can’t, you promised to meet Cazador the moment your father released you from his end-of-the-day lecture.

Except you don’t know where is.

Your gaze shifts from the sky and onto the run-down houses that mostly now have lights in them, majority of soldiers bunking together in groups to stay out of the weather that can turn dark and rainy any moment, and you make a tentative step forward, then glance at the small house on your left, the one you picked to reside in while you’re here.

What was the village called? Rolligan? Something like this. Not that it matters, villagers fled this quiet haven when hordes of goblins started pillaging the surroundings. That’s who you and your father’s army is after. The Duke can’t have his trading routes being disturbed or destroyed, so he sent his army to chase the damn creatures who seem to be growing in force with every field report you get from scouts.

A force to be reckoned with. But so is Baldur’s Gate’s army.

Still, for tonight it’s calm, pleasant even and no battles on the horizon just yet. You begin walking, looking around and trying to discern which house Cazador could’ve picked. Obviously not the big ones, those were claimed by groups of soldiers and knights, he, just like you, most likely settled with something private, being a high-ranking commander just like you.

Your footsteps are quiet as you pass the narrow streets, all of them empty except for a soldier or two, relieving themselves behind decrepit corners of shacks. The village itself is not that big and most of the army is still sleeping in tents, pitched in the surrounding area, but you are sure that a man like Cazador would not sleep in a bedroll with the rest of foot soldiers if he can help it, and his rank does demand that he elevates himself among the rest, just like you and your father. Still, you feel like your search is futile because you start circling the village, glancing at smaller houses with lights in their windows until you finally feel like giving up.

With a sigh you pause, look around once more and decide to head back to the house your bedroll is resting on an old, but sturdy bed, so you head there, listening to the sounds of chatter and crickets filling the air. Someone laughs somewhere, a group of voices join it soon after. Men telling jokes, nothing to pay attention to. A gasp escapes you the moment you feel your wrist being grabbed and your entire body being pulled to the right, through the doorway and into the darkness.

The moment the door closes it becomes pitch black and whoever pulled you in, drives you backwards until your back presses against the wall. You don’t have time to resist, too stunned to be attacked like this in the middle of the camp and then-

A kiss?

A scorching kiss steals the rest of your breath away, strong fingers grip your waist and a firm body presses against yours. You grasp at the sides of this attacker only to recognize it immediately. So many times you felt this same form, naked and warm, under your touch.

You relax and kiss back, feeling a smirk pull at Cazador’s lips when you do, his fingers, ever so nimble, begin to search for a path under your shirt and he stops kissing you to whisper.

“I thought you won’t come by.” He teases and you can barely make out his face in this darkness, because he clearly covered the windows. For privacy, what else.

“I think you would’ve found me if I didn’t find you.” You whisper back and despite feeling glad to be in his embrace, the strands of horrific memories still linger in your mind, pressing down upon you like a warhammer, heavy and unrelenting.

“You would need to do more than just go back to your little shack to escape me.” Cazador’s tone is arrogant, it always is, and you can’t help but love it.

Yet when he kisses you again, expecting you to show same passion he’s feeling, his fingers tracing against your skin under shirt, you cannot find it in you to rouse your desire. You continue for a while, but eventually turn your head away.

“Not tonight.” You whisper, feeling a sting of guilt for saying so, but Cazador’s fingers stop and a strand of long hair slips from behind his ear when he motionlessly looks at your face.

Without a word he pulls a hand from under your shirt and grasps your chin, making you look back at him. Even in the darkness of the room you can see his serious, maybe even concerned look, but you can’t be too sure, it’s so hard to see even though he’s so close.

“What’s wrong?” He asks and you swallow, wondering if you should tell him the truth or just lie. Or maybe even say nothing at all, but before you make up your mind, Cazador releases your chin, his other hand also retreats from under your clothes and he steps back.

Wordlessly he turns his back to you and begins walking around, a small orange flame appears at the palm of his hand, the one wearing his family ring, and you watch as the elf lights candle after candle, illuminating the room at last. Five candles are enough to reveal Cazador’s lodgings. It doesn’t have much, just like other houses: a sturdy table, a banged-up chair, a fireplace, couple windows that are now covered with discolored rags and a bed that looks somehow better preserved than yours. His bedroll is there, so is another and couple extra blankets. He surely prepared to have you here tonight and you smile, finally pushing yourself from the wall and walking to the table, noticing a plate and a metal cup near an empty bottle of wine.

“You set yourself here quite nicely.” You acknowledge and pick up a piece of bread still left in the plate, putting it in your mouth.

For some reason it’s hard for you to look at Cazador. You feel that the moment you do, he will ask what’s on your mind and you’re not sure if you’re ready to tell him that bloody tale. Despite fighting by his side for decades now, despite sharing a bed with him whenever you both can, you still find it hard to tell him some things, and Cazador is definitely keeping things from you too. He almost never speaks about his family, but you are now sure that Donnela is his mother and that she’s Lord Varitan’s sister. This alone makes you understand why Cazador might not be too keen to speak about his family.

The light in his palm gets snuffed out, you notice that by the change of glow behind you and you hear his footsteps as you chew on the tiny piece of bread you picked up, reaching for his wine cup that still has some of crimson in it.

“We do what we must when we forsake comforts of palaces for duty.” Cazador responds, you feel him pick up a strand of your hair and hold it between his fingers while you bring the cup to your lips and have a sip, then another, emptying it.

“Yes, I suppose you’re right.” You respond, knowing that this conversation is shallow, neither of you ever enjoyed small talk like this, but the tension is there and your heart still aches. Old scars in your soul still throb as if licked by fire.

“What happened with the General?” Cazador now asks straightforwardly and you linger for a moment before putting down the metal cup and allowing yourself to be turned by his hands.

When you look at his face again, unhidden by the shadows, you see the same dark eyes that look so inquisitively at you every time you try to avoid speaking about something. Sometimes he lets you remain silent, sometimes he makes you speak, but as his hand rises and his fingertips trace against your right cheek, you can tell that he’s worried. Or at least you can see as much worry as he is willing to show. You never met a man who could hide his emotions as well as Cazador does.

“Father, he…” you sigh, your eyes drift from his face to his chest, on the embroidered black shirt, letting your gaze trace the patterns there, soothing you. “It’s about my mother. He… He felt the guilt again.” You try to explain the best you can without going into too much detail, because you know he must’ve heard what happened or at least some of it. Murder of your mother was something entire Gate lived through, in a way.

Cazador doesn’t speak, he just pulls his fingers away from your face and suddenly, unexpectedly, embraces you. Your face becomes buried in his chest as his strong arms wrap around you, holding you firmly, almost painfully so, but you find comfort in his strength. You sigh again and close your eyes, putting your arms around him too, pressing your palms against his back, suddenly feeling so small against him. Not because of his height that is usually towering over you, but because your very soul shrinks in this moment, reducing you to that little girl with bloody feet and her mother’s mutilated head in her lap.

“I want you to tell me what happened that night.” Somehow Cazador knows what exactly is bothering you and that it is not your father getting a bout of guilt, but the event itself. You shake your head slightly, not wanting to talk about it, not wanting to put it in words.

You never spoke about it to anyone, not even your father.

In response Cazador’s arm leaves you and grips your chin, making you look at him. His eyes bore into yours and you press your lips into a thin line, really not wanting to talk about it, but his utterly calm expression nearly already disarms you.

“Come on now, dear, you will feel better if you do. Don’t you trust me?” Cazador asks and you hate how he destroys your defenses with the tiniest manipulation trick, because yes, of course you trust him.

You love him.

Decades fighting at each other’s side, decades sometimes fighting even each other, years and years in the army as you both learned and climbed the ranks, becoming two of the most trusted soldiers at your father’s command. If there wasn’t a romantic bond, then a strong platonic one would’ve formed anyway. But that moment in your father’s room, when Cazador pulled you there and made you cry for him, that moment was only the beginning of secret exchanges of glances and smiles, of hidden touches and passed notes, of private trysts. Beginning of a relationship that started with blood and blades then became gentle touches and whispered prayers of each other’s names.

It became something softer but exciting as you two still taunt and tease each other, it became something filled with trust as you stand in the battlefield back to back, it became everything. And with years passing by, the arrogance began to simmer down, gentleness taking priority when it’s just the two of you. At this point you are sure even your father knows, no matter how oblivious he has become to the matters of heart since your mother’s murder. But nobody says anything, nobody addresses it, so you and Cazador continue to do what you two know well how to – keep it private and keep it safe.

You pause, letting your mind run through countless memories, countless kisses, countless caresses and you sigh, your shoulders slumping in defeat.

“I do trust you.”

“Well, that wasn’t so hard, hm?” Cazador hums with a smile and releases your chin, but his eyes quickly snap to the door when you both hear couple passing soldiers, very obviously drunk, as they are discussing their favorite courtesans back home. You’re not phased by the talk, but Cazador frowns ever so slightly and sighs. “Come.”

With a palm on your lower back he guides towards the bed, his expression serious and maybe even slightly somber, making you wonder what’s going on in his head, as you have many times before. Cazador does not share his thoughts easily and you learned to accept that, but that doesn’t curb your curiosity whatsoever. You wonder if there will ever be the time when you two talk to each other freely, without guarding unspeakable secrets, whatever they may be.

“Sit.” Cazador’s tone is a bit stern than what it should be but you don’t mind, you are both too used to commanding soldiers day in and day out, so you just sit down and watch him squat in front of you, ever so careful not even kneel on the dirty floor lest his pants get stained, and he takes one of your legs, beginning to undo leather straps of your boot.

“What are you doing?” You ask, slightly surprised by his behavior, but Cazador doesn’t look up, just continues on with the task as his long hair falls on both sides of his face since he’s bent over.

“You’re staying the night.” He responds calmly and you frown, thinking that he still wants something more intimate, because that was his plan after all, judging from how he kissed you earlier. So you bend down too, trying to swat his fingers away from your boot.

“I’ll go back to my own bedroll. General is unprotected without me nearby.” Your argument is a completely reasonable one and correct too, but Cazador just impatiently slaps your fingers away with one hand, making you scoff in offense when you straighten your back and begin rubbing the skin that immediately begins to throb.

“He’s completely surrounded by his army. He’ll be fine. But you’re staying with me tonight.” Cazador’s tone is firm, strict and you move your jaw with rising anger, watching him finally unclasp the straps and take off the shoe from your left leg, then immediately start working on another.

“Cazador, I don’t know what you think will happen tonight but I’m not in a mood.” Your words are as unyielding as his own, but he doesn’t respond, at least not right away.

He only speaks up when your other boot is put with the first one and he stands up, straightening his back and looking down on you. Elf’s hand reaches and caresses your loose hair gently, then moves alongside your jawline.

“I expect you to tell me what happened that night and after that I don’t want you to sleep alone.” He finally explains and your heart feels like it’s being squeezed with hot fingers. Your expression changes from anger to hardly disguised sadness and you nod.

“Alright, I will.” You exhale heavily and stand up again, now beginning to unbutton Cazador’s shirt while he pulls at the laces of yours.

As you undress him and as he undresses you, you begin telling him the story. The one that left such deep mark on you which is ready to bleed at the first probe. You begin with your voice level, your words calm, but as you continue, as you tell him about coming closer to the room, you start losing your composure. Your voice begins to quiver, your words become choked and you resort to a whisper because you feel the unrelenting strangulation of your emotions around your throat, which is threatening to erupt with sobs and tears.

Cazador lets you speak, he doesn’t hurry you even when you pause while trying to remove his clothes, pieces of yours finding their way onto the nearby chair much faster than his. By the time you’re just in your undershirt you’re still struggling with the clasps of his boots, bent down and sobbing, not seeing your own fingers through the tears. He doesn’t interrupt, just remains standing silent and still as you tell him of the men who raped your mother, how they taunted you as you were forced to watch. He says nothing when you stop speaking, struggling to take off his shoes and with a choked grunt finally managing to get them off. He lets you tell your story at your own pace while undressing him, because he knows it will help you finally tell the truth of what happened. You always preferred to have your hands busy.

By the time you take off his pants with more struggle than it usually is, your chest is heaving and your face is wet from your tears. But the moment you drape Cazador’s pants onto the same chair your clothes went to, you feel his fingers grasp your chin, and only your chin, making you lift your eyes to him. You can see him, the sharp angles of his face and his expression blurred by your tear-filled eyes. Your lips tremble and the moment of throwing dirt over your mother’s coffin was the last thing you finished describing.

Almost with curiosity in his eyes, Cazador steps closer and leans over you, turning your face at an uncomfortable angle so that he can remain looking at your face. Tears spill from the corners of your eyes and your vision clears at last.

Then you see a small smile on his lips, a genuine one.

“You look beautiful, my dear.” Cazador whispers with actual admiration in his voice and at first you feel surprised, but then you laugh.

“You’re a freak.” You push his hand off your chin and try to move an arm towards your face, intending to wipe the tears on a sleeve but the elf pushes it away and cups your face with two warm palms.

“Can you blame me? Usually I see you crying while you’re moaning with my-“

“Cazador!” You raise your voice, half amused and half even offended that he’s talking about sex after you just shared your most traumatic memory, but if you have to be honest with yourself, both of you have seen horrors of war, yours is just one tragedy among many, and he was never the most empathetic man.

Strangely enough, you do feel better, lighter, for telling him the truth and every detail. You didn’t realize until now what kind of burden it was, weighting on your shoulders for so, so long.

“Oh come now, don’t be shy. You’re a strong Captain! A future leader of the Baldur’s Gate army! And you only cry when I make you.” Cazador grins, his smirk is sharp and arrogant but his actions speak of softness as he proceeds to gently wipe your tears away.

“You’re an asshole.” You murmur but let him dry your face with his fingers, making him chuckle.

“Ah, just like-“

“Don’t you dare.” You can’t help but laugh now too and he glances up to your eyes, giving you a sly grin.

“There, you’re laughing now.” He says, releasing your face and you pout ever so slightly. You’re too easy when it comes to him, slipping not unlike silk between his fingers at a whim. “Come, lie down with me, I’m sure you’re tired. And I’m sure the General is fine too.” Cazador briefly wipes his moist hands on the sides of your shirt and finally lifts it, pulling it over your head before you can protest.

Completely naked now, just as he is, you watch a small smile on his lips as he passes you, tossing your shirt with the rest, and gets into bed, the old piece of furniture creaking under a weight it has forgotten for who knows how long, a year or two, maybe more, then he throws one of the blankets open in an invitation for you. His wonderfully black hair is draping over his shoulders and firm, trained chest.

He’s a vision you cannot resist.

Eagerly now you get into the bed, smiling, your heart much lighter, your burden lifted, and you snuggle up to Cazador, letting him cover you both with the blanket that he keeps open until you get comfortable. It takes a moment or two longer before you both settle. You rest your head in the crook of his shoulder, one of elf’s hand around you, the other – resting on top of yours after you lay it on his chest. Underneath your palm you feel warmth on his skin and a distant beating of a heart, its calm and even thrums that begin to soothe you, lull you into a sense of safety.

You don’t want to disturb the moment, the peace and the relief you’re feeling inside. Somehow, you don’t know how, he knows that you don’t want to speak about what you told him. Somehow he knows that all what you needed was to tell the story.

“Thank you.” Despite your desire to remain as you both are, quiet in this tiny, candlelit cabin, you want him to know that he helped.

“Rest now.” Cazador whispers, his fingers gently squeezing your hand and you close your eyes. For once in your life you are sure that meditation tonight will be easy for you.

When you rise from your rest next morning, you find yourself as you lain last night, still in same position, and Cazador is awake too. You lift your head to him, curious.

“Good morning, did you sleep?” You ask with your throat feeling slightly dry. Behind the soiled rags over the windows you notice the dawn coming, beginning to paint the sky in pink and orange. Years of being in the military trained you to always rise on time, before the day breaks.

“I did.” Cazador responds and you wonder what his meditations were about, but that’s something either of you rarely share.

Yours are usually about your childhood, running through the fields of flowers and arms of your mother, and your father, as they hold you, rise you up or soothe you. Only several decades ago some of those meditations have become of him, Cazador, the Szarr heir that conquered your heart and in your surrender gave you his. You wonder if he thinks about you too during his rest.

“I’m parched.” You murmur and slip out of his embrace, walking to the table and pouring wine into the cup. Only one candle remains burning, but with light quickly becoming brighter with every minute, you don’t feel like you need more.

When you turn to come back to bed, you watch Cazador prop his back against a pillow as he sits up and smiles, his eyes sweeping over your naked form.

“You’re the prettiest cupbearer I have ever seen.” He teases with that cocky grin of his and you scoff with a smile, then walk back and climb in, handing him the metal cup. Cazador pauses, eyeing your naked upper body since you tossed the blanket over your legs, and finally takes it, having a sip. “We’re starting some sort of celebration early?”

“I don’t know where you keep water, don’t be coy.” You gently chastise him and snatch the cup from his hand, now taking a sip too.

“One of the worgs from yesterday’s encounter snatched my waterskin off my horse. Haven’t had a chance to find another.” He watches you drink the wine and when you empty the cup you turn around and place it on the floor near the bed, momentarily feeling Cazador’s fingers trace over your back, over your scars there, all of them received in fights.

“I didn’t get a chance to see you fight yesterday.” You turn back to him, propping up the travel pillow and leaning against it with your side, your eyes resting on elf’s face and Cazador suddenly laughs.

“Oh you didn’t, hm? It was a sight, my dear.” He gestures now, as if trying to paint a picture with his hands. “They came at my men, trying to flank us from the left. I’m sure they were coordinated by that band of goblins we’re chasing. I heard the General and you got the second band of them coming from the front. Stupid, disgusting creatures.”

Cazador keeps talking and you listen to him attentively, because you did miss his performance, fighting alongside your father when the attack came, lost among the blood and guts. He gestures, now describing how he commanded his soldiers, showing a particular swing that he found satisfying and you absentmindedly take a strand of his hair, beginning to braid it. You gained this habit only recently, after you saw some of the half-elves in the camp braid each other’s hair before going to ambush thieves on the road ahead. At first Cazador resisted, trying to tell you to stop your stupid girlish things, but you insisted so now he allows you to do it, but only if you undo it before you both have to appear in front of your men.

And this time it’s like he doesn’t even notice that you’re braiding a strand of his long, silky hair. Cazador’s hands are painting you a picture of a short battle that lasted no more than ten minutes. His ring casts a short flash when it catches the light from the candle when he gestures and you smile, nodding to him from time to time, seeing in your mind’s eye how he fought, knowing exactly how each movement looked, you’ve seen them so many times before after all.

“The howls they made!” He laughs, delighted by the creatures suffering under his sword. “What a music to my ears! I listened to them in my meditations last night.” Cazador finishes and looks at you, paying attention at last and his bloodthirsty grin softens, watching your fingers run along the black strands. “You’re doing it again.” He murmurs and you nod to him with a smile on your face. “Sometimes I doubt you pay attention.”

“I do. You bathed in their gore. I saw you after the battle you know.” You give Cazador a pointed look and he sighs, rolling his eyes.

“Yes, I guess you have.” Then he pauses, as if remembering and leans closer to you with a smirk. “I saw you too, gloriously drenched in blood, your eyes wild and ablaze from felling your foes.” A whisper that’s hot on your lips when he leans closer and closer and you smile in return.

“There are many such bloody baths before us.” You reply in a whisper too and stop braiding, knowing he will kiss you.

And he does, his lips on yours in an instant, his tongue demanding access which you grant with no reluctance. You feel his hand ghost over the side of your face and settle on your naked shoulder, pulling you closer to him, leaning you backwards, wanting to move you on your back. Yes, you two have time for this, even if it’s going to be quick.

Then, a knock on the door.

“Commander Szarr! There’s a courier for you! From your family!” A familiar voice announces, one of his soldiers, and Cazador lifts his head glancing up at the door then deeply frowns. He never liked being interrupted and right now it’s no different.

“Fucking courier.” He swears under his breath and you raise your eyebrows at the outburst but say nothing, just watch him push himself up and get out of the bed.

Swiftly he pulls up his pants and walks to the door, elf’s fingers quickly working to undo the braid you left in his hair before he opens up. While he exchanges words with the soldier, you grab his shirt from the chair of clothes and throw it on, just in case the man peeks inside by accident. You’re not too worried to be ‘caught’, not anymore, but you’re not in favor of any random person seeing you naked. That privilege is reserved only to Cazador.

When the door is closed and Cazador turns to you, you notice a scroll in his hands and then get a better view of it, seeing the wax stamp seal as he returns to the bed, stopping by the edge of it but not sitting down. His eyes briefly dart to you, then with a serious expression he snaps the seal in half, unrolling the scroll. You kneel in the bed, getting closer and looking at the contents of the message but you don’t recognize the letters. You guess it must be Kozakuran, language of the land Cazador hails from. You have no knowledge of how to read it.

But you do watch his face: the color leaves his skin, his fingers pale as they begin squeezing the parchment to the point it shakes in his hands, the furrowed brow gives his face such murderous expression it would make even the toughest enemy falter before charging. You’ve seen that look before and you are afraid of it yourself, although it hasn’t been cast in your direction.

Neither it is now, but Cazador’s jaw grinds for a moment longer, his eyes sweeping over the lettering and then he crumples the parchment in his ring hand, squeezing so hard his knuckles turn white.

“What is it?” You ask and you reach up, wanting to touch his face, to tame his anger, you’ve done it in the past, but this time the elf just snaps his eyes at you for a moment before walking to the still lit candle and putting the parchment to it. As it catches the flame, he lets it drop into the plate nearby.

“I’m going home.”

“Home? What do you mean home? What happened? For how long?” The questions begin tumbling from behind your teeth as your need to immediately know what’s going on raises to the highest degree. You scramble out of bed, walking to him, your barefoot feet being the only sound in the small house. “Cazador…” You gently approach him, place a hand on his shoulder as you stand by his side and for a moment you think he will snap at you, you’ve seen his volatile moods before when things didn’t go the way he wanted them to, but this time he just inhales, then exhales, calming himself.

“I’m going home. My father demands I return, permanently. He believes I’ve learned what I can at the army.” Cazador explains without looking at you and you freeze.

Home… Permanently…

“But-“

“We always knew that my assignment here was only temporary.” Cazador cuts you off, his words sharp and his tone angry, but when he looks at you, you see that his anger is not at you. He’s angry because he doesn’t want to leave.

“Why now? We’re literally on a march.” You search his eyes for something, reassurance maybe, a promise that this is not the end that your heart feels breaking over.

Cazador sighs again and turns to you, his palms finding perches on your shoulders and you let your own hand drop from his to your side while you wait for him to speak. It takes him a moment, his eyes sweeping over your face as if he’s trying to memorize every feature of it.

“I’m not sure why now. I have a suspicion, but it’s unfounded for now.” He sighs, closing his eyes for a moment and you can’t hold yourself back, you step to him and embrace him, your arms wrapping around his waist. You feel Cazador’s arms hug you in return, his palms resting on your back and the side of his face presses against your hair. “I can’t decline, you know that right?”

“I know. I know all too well that my father can’t oppose it either. That was the agreement from the very beginning, but… your leave will be a loss to the army.” You whisper, inhaling his scent, and Cazador smiles against your hair then pulls back just enough so that he can look at your face.

“Just the army?” He tries to give you his signature arrogant smirk, the one that always informs people that he sees everyone below him, but this time it fails, resembling more like a forced grimace. Sadness is hiding behind it.

You try to smile too, to keep up the charade but can’t. Your face becomes a mask of sorrow and while you’re not about to cry, your whole chest aches with the thought of being apart.

“You know it’s not.” You quickly move your hands to cup his face with your palms and bring it closer, kissing him with desperation. “Promise me we’ll meet. That every time we’re in Baldur’s Gate at the same time we will meet. Promise me, Cazador.” Words come tumbling out like a plea for mercy before you can stop, whispered in hushed words against his lips while you feel his arms squeeze you tighter. You have your eyes closed, because if you see pain his eyes you won’t able to stop yourself from collapsing under the sudden despair.

“I promise, you know I will.” Cazador whispers back, his kiss is not meant to silence you but to claim last moments of affection he can before he has to prepare to leave.

“You’ll stay in the city, yes?” you ask while elf’s lips kiss your cheek, then your temple and still hold you so tightly against him.

“I should, yes. I’ll try.”

He stops and you open your eyes, seeing him so close and realizing that from this day on you don’t know when you will see him again. Grief stirs in your chest like a beast ready to devour you, but you push it away, not giving into desperation that threatens to consume your mind. Not all is lost, you know that, you repeat that to yourself.

“Cazador-“

“My little soldier.” He suddenly smiles, surprising you with his words. He hasn’t called you that in a very long time. “We shall meet again, I assure you that.” Cazador looks gentle as he speaks and the vice in your chest relents, easing its grip. With your thumbs you rub the sides of his face, drinking in the feeling of his skin under your touch.

“Of course we will.” You hear yourself speak and your voice sounds stronger than you expected it to be. You even smile as you move your hands ever so slightly and cup his ears, giving them a gentle rub, seeing Cazador’s eyes widen for just a moment before he chuckles.

“Ah yes, for a moment I have forgotten what kind of woman you are.” He says and when you keep rubbing you see a gentle blush appear on his face and the tips of his ears. “You’re not going to let me leave with my dignity intact, are you.” Elf teases and you smile wider, because you prefer it this way. You prefer smiles over tears, you prefer hope over despair. Even if things are sometimes difficult, like right now. You shove the sadness deep into the pit of your soul, you won’t let it become you.

“As if you had any to begin with.” You tease, making Cazador laugh and he shakes his head slightly, trying to get rid of your fingers on his ears that are still working to change his mood. With how tightly he has you pressed against him, you begin to feel his length hardening.

“Foul woman, what did I do to deserve to get entangled with you.” He chastises and you finally release your grip on him, letting your palms rest on his shoulders as you smirk.

“The one you said you’ll marry one day?” You whisper and kiss him, feeling him return the kiss, leaning into it so hard, you are forced to bend backwards while his fingers dig into your flesh through his own shirt clad over your naked body.

When he pulls back, Cazador looks at you, his eyes unreadable before he speaks.

“I only said that so that you stop protesting when I want to fuck you.”

You scoff and laugh, for a split second believing him because of how serious his expression is now and you deliver a gentle, but poignant knee blow to his groin, making Cazador hiss with mild pain and straighten his back before releasing you. You raise an eyebrow at him before his hand shoots up and grabs your jaw firmly, his eyes angry for a moment.

“You…” Szarr heir pauses as he looks into your eyes, then the fury dissipates and he just looks utterly bemused. “You’re going to be the most annoying wife in the history of whole godsdamn Faerûn, woman.” He pushes your face away in a dismissive gesture but you just laugh.

“Yes, yes, I heard that before.” You wave your hand at him and receive a glare from under his eyebrows before he steps towards you and yanks his shirt over your head, retrieving it.

“Dress up before your daddy sees what a voluptuous woman his little girl has grown up to be, only to belong to me.” Cazador smirks. Here it is, that sly, arrogant grin you know so well, and you give him a smirk of your own, not impressed by his threat.

“Next you’ll threaten to fuck me in front of him.” You turn your back to Cazador and start picking up your clothes from the pile on the chair, sensing when he comes closer and proceeds to pick up his too, following your suit and dressing up.

“You know that I could, my dear. Don’t tempt me. Little farewell gift to the old General Sylven.” He taunts and you try not to chuckle because that would only encourage him.

“Simmer down, Lord Szarr, you’ll ruin your reputation.” You glance at him as you pull up your pants and he sees the humor in your eyes then smiles a bit softer.

“You’re right, as rare as it happens, you are right this time.” Cazador sighs and you give him a look with a laugh.

“You’re not going to be missed any time soon with this attitude.”

“This attitude made you fall for me on your knees with your mouth ready to worship.” He shoots back and you gasp with a louder laugh now.

“You are a pain in the ass, Szarr.” You pull your shirt over your body and just as your head is about to emerge from the pool of fabric, you feel arms around your waist and your body pulled against Cazador’s.

“I’m suspecting you’re into it since you are not exactly staying away from me.” He teases and you know he’s annoying on you purpose, just like you annoyed him earlier. Leaving with smiles, not tears.

“Maybe I am. Maybe you’ll get to find out next time we meet.” You smile, then it falters and you look at him without joy now, unable to pretend. “Write to me.”

“I will.” Cazador’s eyes sweep over your face one more time before they return to your eyes.

You feel like he’s about to say something you really should pay attention to and you even stop breathing for a moment. You wait, a second passes, then another, your heart beats louder and louder in your ears before Cazador inhales deeply, then slowly exhales.

“You’re mine, little soldier, mine alone. Never forget that.”

With that the elf presses his lips against yours in one last scorching kiss. You don’t know how long it lasts but you wish it would forever. When Cazador pulls back, his expression is collected, serious and then you’re released from his arms because he needs to start packing.

“I’ll see you in a bit.” You tell and he nods in response, not looking at you anymore. You will meet him again before he leaves, in your father’s presence, he has to be informed after all, and you shouldn’t be the one to do, that was understood even without you two discussing it.

So you sigh lightly and leave the tiny house, looking around as you go but noticing no one to witness your not-so-secretive departure. Yet your feet feel heavy as you make way towards the house you were supposed to spend last night at.

You don’t want him to go and you wish you could stop Cazador from going, but you know you can’t. Still, the smirk of Lord Varitan’s lips and the blazing fury of Lady Donnela’s eyes resurface in your memory like you just have seen them. Something about the two of them always deeply unsettled you and you know how much Cazador hates even talking about home, let alone either of his parents. He never said why, but you gathered hints of discipline, punishments and unspeakable cruelty towards him and one another.

With a quick shake of your head you dismiss these thoughts. No, not now. You’ll have plenty of time to think of this seemingly impossible puzzle of a family when Cazador is nowhere near, when his embrace is not there to reassure at the end of every day.

And your heart aches. So much.

You have no choice but to ignore it and hope that next time you see him is not too far in the future.

It can’t be.

It can’t be.

⫸ end note: thank you @sadist69 for a wonderful illustration♡~

[bobgasm]

lieutenant smoulder [4.5/15]

pairing: bucky barnes x reader word count: 2657 warnings: they’re insufferable assholes, he fingers her, smut, nsfw [18+ only], contains spoilers for future chapters

prompt: “i was made for you”

summary: in which bucky has a secret

author’s note: bonus part from bucky’s pov. contains spoilers – best read after part 8 but takes place between parts 4 & 5

devour | lieutenant smoulder | embers

        Bucky silenced the alarm blaring from the nightstand, but not before Y/N yelled at him to “shut that fucking thing off before I ram it up your ass, Barnes.”

        “It’s really great waking up next to you when you’re screeching in my ear like a bat out of hell,” he said, running a hand over his face.  Wiping the sleep from the corner of his eyes.  “Glare at me any harder and you’ll burn a hole in the side of my head.”

        “One can only hope,” she muttered, closing her eyes and trying to go back to sleep.

        Bucky sighed, folding the cover back as he got out of bed rather than ignoring the alarm and going back to sleep like he wanted to.  Crossing the room and grabbing a pair of boxer briefs from the dresser, pulling them up his legs before snagging yesterday’s jeans from the floor.  Stepping into them and sliding the zipper home, donning the button through the hole before entering the bathroom.  He made quick work of brushing his teeth and washing his face.  Catching Y/N’s reflection in the mirror as she appeared in the doorway.

        She’d snatched his shirt from the bedroom floor.  She’d never worn his clothes before and he didn’t know how that made him feel.  He liked it, sure.  Leaning back against the vanity and folding his arms over his chest.  She matched the action.

        “So you want me to stay but then you’re the one getting ready to leave first thing in the morning?”

        “I have coffee with my mom every morning,” he replied simply.  It was part of the truth, but he wasn’t ready to tell her the rest just yet.  “Would you rather I invite her over here and you have to do the walk of shame with a witness?”

        “It’s only a walk of shame if you regret what you did,” she pointed out.  “I hope you don’t expect me to stay until you get back, because I have shit to do today, Barnes.”

        He didn’t give himself time to second guess his decision.  Taking two long strides so he was in front of her, one hand cupping her face as he commandeered a kiss, the other placed low on her hip.  He could tell she wasn’t expecting it, but matched his ferocity without much prompting.  Her hands placed firmly on his chest, like she wanted to push him away, but instead creeping up to wind themselves in his hair.  His hands sliding down her body, giving her ass a firm squeeze before lifting her off her feet and carrying her back to the bed.

        She groaned softly as he settled between her legs, rough denim against her most delicate parts.  Legs tightening around his waist, his hips grinding down softly.  A delicious moan falling past his lips – one he’d normally be embarrassed of, but didn’t have it in him to shy away.

       One strong forearm kept him propped up, the other enticed her to unwrap her legs from his waist.  His fingers finding her slick heat.  Teasing her clit and earning a moan before sliding home.  They both groaned.  Her teeth clamping down on his bottom lip enough to hurt.  Hands tightening their grip in his hair.  Legs falling open as his fingers worked to draw an orgasm from her.

        He kissed her again.  He really liked kissing her – it was one of the only times she wasn’t arguing with him.  The other time being when she was on her knees blowing him.

        She was close and they both knew it.  He worked his fingers faster, curling back towards himself when he was knuckle deep.  Knowing she couldn’t hold out much longer when he did this.  Her grip loosening in his hair, only to clamp onto his wrist.  Desperate to try and push him away.

        “James...please.  Oh, fuck, please,” she whimpered, so deliriously close she didn’t know what she was saying.  “I’m so close.  So–fuck.”

        He liked her in this state.  Desperate.  Begging.

        “You gonna come for me, hm?”  He asked, voice low.  Mouth dragging over the shell of her ear.  “Be a good girl and come for me, Y/N.  Come all over my fingers.”

        He kissed the corner of her mouth, fingers unrelenting.  Her breath caught in her throat, body resisting the orgasm he coaxed from her, only for her resolve to crumble moments later.  Breathy moans filling his ears, but still, his fingers didn’t stop.

        “JamesJamesJames,” she chanted.

        “That’s it, baby,” he praised, kissing her slowly as she came down from her high.  She whimpered against his mouth as he withdrew his fingers.  He nudged his nose against her own, pressing a soft kiss to her lips before pulling away again.  “Stay.  I’ll be back by nine.”

        “I want pancakes for breakfast,” she told him, letting him kiss her once more before he climbed off the bed.  She hummed as she rubbed her legs together, a content smile on her face as she stretched a little and made herself comfortable in the bed again.

        Bucky didn’t argue.  Instead, he popped back into the bathroom to finish getting ready.  Shaving his face and running a comb through his hair.  Finding a shirt and lacing a pair of boots on his feet before heading out, snagging his phone, wallet and keys on the way, and hoping Y/N actually stayed.

        It never took him more than 20 minutes to get to his mothers’ place.  Because of his change in morning events, he arrived closer to quarter-to-eight than just after half-seven like usual. His mother eyed him curiously but didn’t initially pry.

        “You’re late,” she pointed out.

        “I know.  I’m sorry,” he apologised.  “Thanks for taking Theo last night.”

         “I love having him around.  You know that,” she replied.

         “How was he?  Is he mad I’m late?”

        “He knows you’re busy,” she answered.  “I told him you text to say you’d be a few minutes late, and that he should start getting ready without you.  Don’t you dare make me lie to him again, James.”

        “I’m sorry,” he apologised once again.  “It won’t happen again.”

        “Was she worth it?”

        “We agreed we wouldn’t talk about my sex life.”

        “That was before it interfered with you seeing your son, James,” she stonewalled.  He took a deep breath and ran a hand through his hair.  “You told me you were having a couple of drinks with a colleague.”

        “And I did.”

        He felt like a kid again and he hated it.  He hated being reprimanded by his mother, but he hated that she was right.  His son needed to be put first – before everything else.  And usually that wasn’t an issue.  There hadn’t been a time since Theo was born that he’d ever been late to pick him up from his mother’s – Theo’s grandmother’s, – house.  Until now, and he had to make a decision whether or not he told her who the colleague was.  She’d understand the predicament he was in if he told her, but also he wasn’t ready for the lecture that came along with it.

        “Were you with Natasha?”

        “I told you that’s not a thing,” he replied, scratching the back of his neck.  “Y/L/N was made Barton’s replacement.”

        “Oh.”

        “Yeah.  We’re pissing everyone off at the house, so she invited me out for a drink so we could try and get along.  One drink turned into a couple and she came home with me.  She drives me fucking crazy, Ma.  I don’t know what I’m doing here again.”

        His mother sighed and lightly patted his face.  She gave him a once over – noting the clenched jaw and creased forehead.  Bucky didn’t like the silence.  He was sure she had her own opinion about the situation he’d found himself in with Y/N once again, but he knew that she was carefully choosing her words.

        “Why don’t I take Theo for the rest of the week, hm?  You can keep picking him up for kindergarten like normal, and have dinner with us on Sunday night, but after shift and kindergarten on Tuesday he goes back home with you, okay?  Just try not to be late again, and if you are for whatever reason, give us a call so you can tell him yourself.”

        Bucky nodded his head, pressing a kiss to his mother’s cheek.  “Thank you, Ma.  I really appreciate it.”

        “Just promise me he won’t get a baby brother or sister in nine months.  Now go make sure he’s got underwear on.  I’ll finish making his lunch.”

        He thanked his mother again before walking down the hall to Theo’s room, deliberately ignoring the comment about a sibling.  Using the secret knock he and Theo had worked out together, only to have the door fly open .02 seconds later.

        “Daddy!”

        Bucky grinned as he bent down to catch the toddler as he tackled him in a hug.  It was the same reaction he got every morning and he’d never grow tired of it.  Holding Theo tightly as the young boy hid his face in his father’s neck.

        “Easy there, Rookie, you almost knocked me over!”  Bucky teased, lightly tickling his sides.  Theo squealed in delight before giving his dad a kiss.  “Sorry I’m a little late today, bud.”

        “It’s okay, daddy!  You’re here now.  You can help me get dressed.”  Theo gave him a big grin, and just like that, all was forgiven.

        Bucky helped Theo finish getting ready.  Making sure his hair was combed, his teeth brushed, and his shoes on the right feet.  Theo grabbed a sweatshirt, but he still wasn’t sure how to use a zipper, so he asked his dad for help.

        “Hey, bud, how’d you like to stay with Grandma for the rest of the week, hm?”

        Theo’s eyes lit up.  “Yes!”

        “Yeah?  That okay with you?”  Bucky asked, wanting to make sure.  He crouched down in front of Theo, his hands on his sides.  Theo nodded his head enthusiastically.  “I’ll still pick you up for kindy each morning, and pick you up after.  I’ll even try to be there for dinner and bedtime, okay?”

        “Okay!”

        “I love you, buddy.  You know that, right?  I love you so much.”

        “I love you too, daddy.”  Theo wrapped his arms around Bucky’s neck, and Bucky picked him up to carry him back out to the kitchen.

        “Tears?”  Winnie asked.

        “No, we’re happy this morning,” Bucky replied, graciously accepting the travel mug from his mother and taking a sip of coffee.  “Do I need to bring anything back for him later?”

        “Nothing I can think of,” she said, tucking Theo’s lunchbox into his school bag and zipping it up.  “Arms out, Theo.  Then you boys are good to go.”

       Theo thanked his grandma and said goodbye.  Bucky gave her a kiss on the cheek and a promise to see her later.  Bucky sipped his coffee as he and Theo left and made their way to the subway, ready to head to kindy.  Theo told him all about the things he and grandma were going to do while he stayed with her and it warmed Bucky’s heart knowing he loved his grandma to bits.  

        Theo’s mom wasn’t in the picture.  She hadn’t been apart of Bucky’s life long – just long enough for a condom to break.  Things had ended before either of them knew she was pregnant, and she’d come back into his life a week before she was due to have Theo.  Back then, Bucky had been shocked, and demanded a paternity test once Theo was born.  Sure enough, he was his kid, and once Bucky had him home, his mom had left.

        It had been hard, and Bucky had relied a lot on his own mother’s help.  After the death of her husband and Bucky’s dad, Winnie had felt like a piece of her was missing.  Having Theo come into her life was the best gift the universe could’ve given her, even if she knew her son wasn’t coping.  She did everything she could to help Bucky, and forced him to take a few weeks furlough after breaking down at work so he could figure out how exactly to raise a baby.

        Natasha had been his only friend at the firehouse initially.  She graduated from the academy a few months before him, so she knew what it was like to be the cadet getting the shit jobs.  She was the one who realised something was going on at home which resulted in his sour mood at work, and he’d told her everything.  In a way, both she and Bucky’s mother had been his saving grace.  Keeping him sane and keeping his priorities straight when they saw him struggling.  Offering to help where they could, and eventually he stopped needing their help as much.  Finding a routine with his mom so he could still work, and to this day they stuck to it.

        Why fuck with something that worked?

        Natasha was Aunty Nat and she loved Theo to death.  After Barton died, he was her saving grace.  She ended up crashing at the Barnes’ for a while.  Bucky couldn’t stand to see her so cut up, and she’d been there when he needed help the most.  It was time he paid back the favour.  So he slept on an air mattress on the floor in Theo’s room, and she took his bed.

        Lines got blurred when she stayed over, and they wound up being a little more than friends.  The sex was good.  Bucky gave her the distraction her body craved, and they both made each other happy.  The entire relationship was short-lived, but that didn’t stop Bucky’s mom from wishing that something more would come of their friendship.

        There were only a few people who knew about Bucky’s kid.  Chief Fury knew, because there’d been a couple of incidences in the past that required him to leave work.  Times like Theo being sick and needing to go home, or the time he broke his arm on the jungle gym.  Captain Wilson and Lieutenant Rogers knew because they’d become Bucky’s close friends, but almost no one else knew Bucky had a kid.  He wanted to keep his personal life private, but if they asked him he wouldn’t deny it.  

        They two Barnes boys arrived at Theo’s kindergarten just before half eight.  Sharing a hug and a kiss before Theo waved goodbye to his father and raced inside the school gates so he could play with his friends.  Bucky waved goodbye once he knew he was happy inside before making his way back home.

        Now he just had to figure out the Y/N situation.  One thing was for sure, though; he knew he wasn’t ready to tell her about Theo.  The decision could easily come back and bite him in the ass, but they were just fucking.  There was no point in having a heart to heart, because that wasn’t who either of them were.  As of right now, she was just someone to keep his bed warm.  Someone to fool around with when they weren’t arguing.

        After the way things ended last time...you’d have thought he learnt his lesson by now.

        Bucky sighed as he unlocked his apartment, breathing in the fresh smell of coffee and heading into the kitchen to wash the travel mug his mom had given him.  Pouring himself a cup and leaving his things by the fruit bowl before making his way back down the hall to his room.

        “Where’s my pancakes?”

        Bucky wasn’t expecting Y/N to still be there, if he was being honest.  So finding her still wearing his tee from the day before, reclined back against the wall with pillows behind her and sipping a coffee was a bit of a shock.  A good one, if he was being honest with himself.

        “Do I look like a fucking IHOP?”

[centrally-unplanned]

(As I close tabs) I thought the South Korean Small Businesses Suck blog post that was going around recently was very good for a "facts on the ground" summary - its a shockingly inefficient market sector, absolutely propped up by government largess and also simply part of an economy uninterested in allocating investments to fixing it and a society comfortable with that level of inefficiency. Its true low-hanging fruit that is difficult to pluck in the sclerotic age of today.

I am less convinced its a big part of the fertility transition in South Korea. Not zero, sure, but its big idea is that everyone is stuck in red queen races for the jobs at the best firms because the small business firms pay so badly. And that just isn't how people/societies tend to operate? People optimize their decisions but not that much, they don't have clear views of their future probability-adjusted wages ands are "studying more" in South Korea because the consequences are less. I think everyone rat races in a ton of societies, and there are other reasons that in the US or Japan that cuts off at a certain point while in South Korea it keeps ratcheting up.

And once someone is 30 and working at these small businesses they aren't in the main desperately clawing to switch over to samsung. That does happen in places! Look at Indian civil service exams takers, just sitting in abeyance waiting for retest opportunities for years wasting their time. It can happen, it just isn't what South Korea looks like. They switch over to their own career tracks, and are doing like crazy levels of after-work training to keep up at the low paid preschool or whatever. Huge numbers of people in South Korea don't go to college, or do vocational schools! Is their fertility higher? I haven't seen any evidence that is the case, or at least not by very much (like in most places lower income people have slightly higher fertility, I agree this plays a small role).

South Korea should fix this to be richer as a nation and more equal as a society; I think fixing their fertility woes is going come primarily from elsewhere.

[very-grownup]

Book 75, 2023

I love Connie Willis. I think it is a legitimate failure of the science fiction community because the only people I ever see talking about her work are me. She has eleven Hugo Awards!

I do think her most significant long works were in the '90s and the kind of science fiction she writes was not as embraced as science fiction as it would be now. I feel like there's been some much needed erosion of drawing firm lines between hard science fiction and soft science fiction and the idea that hard science fiction is /real/ science fiction have you read her short 1995 novel "Remake" about a future Hollywood dystopia where everything is just remakes of previously successful works starring digital versions of long dead actors that various production companies own the rights to and the protagonist is a disillusioned Hollywood cog whose job is finding sets and props in previous movies that can be digitally copied into the new version of movies so nothing new or real has to be made but I wasn't reading "Remake" I was reading Willis' new novel, "The Road to Roswell".

There are two kinds of Willis novels: the serious ones and the romantic comedy non-science fiction genre pastiches but make it science fiction. Willis loves a screwball comedy and doesn't see why she can't have that but also aliens are there or it's time travel and I love that.

"The Road to Roswell" is an alien abduction story that's also a road novel traveling around Nevada and New Mexico and the special kind of Americana that's grown around UFO sightings and alien conspiracies. Francie is reluctantly in Roswell on the Fourth of July weekend to be the maid of honour in her best friend's latest attempt at a wedding that Francie is determined to talk her out of (one previously referenced fiancé was a breatharian), when, at tentacle-point, she is kidnapped by an alien who looks like a tumbleweed. The alien wants something. Or to go somewhere. And Francie is going to be it's wheelman. As Francie tries to appease the alien and get back to Roswell in time to stop her friend's wedding, the group of abductees becomes bigger, eventually acquiring a conspiracy theorist, a man selling alien abduction insurance packages, a casino loving senior citizen, and a cowboy.

It's just charming. It's silly and light and easy to read and the affection that develops between the alien and its abductees, particularly Francie, as they grow from trying to figure out how to escape to how to communicate with it to how to help it achieve it's goal (but also still get back to Roswell to stop Francie's friend from marrying a man who's arranged for them to get married in a museum recreation of the alien autopsy video) holds everything together.

I never regret the time I spend with something Connie Willis' has written.

[rottmnt-hc]

Rise!Raph and the Leos

'87 Leonardo

Leonardo is the oldest of the Leos and immediately adopted Rise Raph

Definitely soft but firm with him

Sits on his shoulders for peak bonding performance

Referred to as Gruncle

I honestly need to rewatch '87 I don't remember a lot.

03 Leonardo

A bit cautious do to his size but mother's him.

Teaching ninjitsu baby!

Gives head pats as reward

Definitely learned to cook for Rise Raph

Shows him how to best use his size and get over his clumsiness

A bit harsher compared to his other counterparts minus '07.

Has been told to relax by his brothers.

Referred to as Mama Nardo

(again need to rewatch 03, I remember episodes but it's more character down the seasons than anything.)

'07 Leonardo

A bit more calm towards Rise Raph but cautious because Raph.

Takes him to South America, definitely writes this time.

It's a group effort to keep an eye on Rise Raph, they all teach and help him.

Splinter wants the adoption papers

Leo is referred to as Uncle

(Haven't made any of my own HC for 07 yet, just watched it this year.)

12 Leonardo

Not hostile but openly weary of younger turtle

Definitely gets taken care of while keeping an eye on Raphie

Squishes his cheeks when he's comfortable

Never tells his brothers about him

Only April knows

Is definitely called Auntie

(never watched pass season 1)

14/16 Leonardo

Hostile and unwelcoming

His brothers keep majority an eye on Rise Raph

Picks on him until Splinter yells at him

Gets shown up as Leader multiple times

He actually starts liking Rise Raph as he has to go...

(I really don't like this Leo but I will write fluff for him...Mama Tello)

18 Leonardo

Absolute baby for his big brother

They definitely have secret hangouts together

Who's more annoying contest, the results are ignored because nobody will believe it.

Came out to Raph before anyone else, also introduced his boyfriend before even mentioning his existence.

Likes sleeping with arms propped on his head

Comfort brother

(His baby brother is his favorite Leo.)

(Bonus)Rise Apocalypse Leonardo

Overprotective of his big little brother

Knows he's going overboard with his protection but the lad went too long without his big bro

After gets yelled at, he lets loose but agrees to the Raph rule of call every hour and the latest you can go is two.

More often than not helping with both him and his brothers

Extra training (End of the World addition)

(Future!Leo has insane guilt, attachment issues, PTSD, etc and Raph is his comfort rn)

[albaitross]

(why are all the back-alleys full of gods and stuff?) / continued! - @drolliic

it takes a while for Moppy Kid to respond. longer than what would be polite as per most humans' etiquette standards, but May has seen worse and stranger - both by human and non-human standards. so she remains relaxed in her seat, watching patiently. in fact, the dragging silence is nice, an opportunity. it's free reign to simply observe.

and she observes... that Moppy Kid is truly deserving of that moniker. gosh, that hair! so curly! so, so much like a mop! an iconic, perfect match for the descriptor of a 'mop of hair' and such! does he style it? is it natural? wow, so moppy! maybe she should have the column be about his hair routine instead...

unfortunately, the train of thought has to be aborted with his reply. not that his reply is disappointing in any sort of contrast. curry and coffee... just like on the menus of this cafe. oh, is this kid actually being trained to take over the place in the future? the mundane answer is likely no, because maybe he's just another teenage part-timer and of course, he has to learn how to make anything on the menu if he's working here -

ah, but what's life without assuming the most dramatic things about it? or rather, her own life always likes to make random dramatic turns, so she might as well take the initiative on it.

(and... if she's being a teeny bit more honest, there's this edge she's been feeling—

logically, it's probably because of the whole, well. fucking demiurges and their pointless tunnel visions for power - the one that hovered right over shibuya earlier in the week wouldn't be the first nor last of its kind. in any case, since something clearly not-normal happened recently, the strangeness in the air could be easily attributed to that event, the aftershocks and remnants.

gut instinct says she needs to prepare herself. somehow. with anything.)

"oh, is it really so secret?" May pouts and puts on her best, cringe-worthy cutesy voice. "come on, it wouldn't hurt to give a hint or two at least, right? right? there's nothing sacred in this modern era, and truth be told, no one thinks food is any more sacred either now! give into your little vices and i'll give you 5 yen?"

she punctuates the end of that absurd act with a pause, a snort, a witch's crackle of a laugh, and a return to the lazy posture of a journalist with questionable ability and unquestionable unreliability. she leans against the counter, propping her chin onto a pair of entwined hands as she smiles bemusedly at the teen barista.

"my joking aside - aren't you quite the wordsmith? very poetic of you to frame it as an exchange of secrets, mysterious yet so businesslike. you might be a good writer in the future, if you polish yourself." the woman hums a light note, a touch of something thoughtful to it. "let's see then... a deal, secrets for secrets... well, as long as i retain the unfettered right to refuse divulging whenever, then sure, what's the harm? alright Moppy Kid, you have a deal—"

she finalizes her words with a snappy clack of her teeth bared into a cheerful grin, and the barest touch of honesty - an inhuman sort, spoken but not heard, more a sensation. it's shaped like a spark and echoes like the concept of determination itself, feeling like light and the sheer innateness of all things, burning both with a soft brilliance akin to sunlight and the firm sharpness of words being etched onto a contract, a promise; a 'honesty' of the soul itself.

which, to a normal human, means nothing. too fleshy to feel such subtle, immaterial things. it's just a habit for her to ensure that her words bear weight, bear force - she's had too many encounters with the fae and the divine and the demonic and the whatnot, all with their own brands of horseshit wordplay.

"—provided you go first, that is. divulge the secrets of good coffee for poor ol' me, and i'll tell you something worth your while. like..." the woman tilts her head, thinking. "ah, yes. i can teach you a trick or two to better protect that head of yours, including your incredibly curly mop of hair. unless you're not the superstitious type? i hope you are. my tricks run on stuff like the power of love, friendship and faith, you see."

[unravellingsilencehq]

“Oh, Merlin, tell me, does THE MOON get what he deserves?” He is in THE ORDER OF THE PHOENIX & CLOSED to finding out. 

— he walks through the world as ;

name → remus lupin pronouns → he/him identification → cis male year of birth → september 1959 - september 1960 face claim → joe keery blood status → half-blood (werewolf) sexual orientation → up to applicant occupation → photographer for the department of magical law enforcement at the ministry of magic future information → n/a

— he is best described as ;

The person to offer you the last square of CHOCOLATE, nibbled SECRETLY in the light of the fridge, with a nudge and a TEASING SMILE. COMFORT in human form, he is your favourite woollen JUMPER you search for on COLD NIGHTS that still fits despite how you’ve grown. QUIET & CAUTIOUS like the EVENING, he is the fun MEMORIES in the DARKNESS and the MYSTERIOUS HOWL that ECHOES in the MOONLIGHT.

— his story starts with ;

tw: death

A man whose heart is filled with gentle warmth and kindness, anyone who calls Remus Lupin a friend is incredibly lucky, although they are within a select few. Born to a muggle insurance office from Cardiff who fell in love with a wizard, Remus was raised in Cardiff. As a young boy, Remus was curious and eager to learn about the world. Lyall Lupin captured Remus’ imagination from an early age.  A senior advisor for The Department for the Regulation and Control of Magical Creatures, Lyall’s knowledge of magical creatures was unchallenged and Remus grew up searching for mermaids in Cardiff Bay and looking for werewolves in Wenallt Forest. Little did Remus know that it was a werewolf who would eventually come looking for him. Around Remus’ fifth birthday a number of muggles had gone missing in Cardiff, their bodies mauled in what the authorities thought was an animal attack, but Lyall knew better. A werewolf was on the loose, and Lyall had an idea of who it was. FENRIR GREYBACK [maker/adversary] had told the questioning committee he was simply a wizard in the wrong place at the wrong time, but Lyall knew the signs of lycanthropy and would not so easily be fooled. 

Lyall voiced his concerns at the trial, suggesting Fenrir be detained till at least the next full moon, losing his temper in the process. Fenrir was released and disappeared back to Cardiff without a trace. He would not forget Lyall’s comments and on the next full moon crept through his son’s open window and bit his small body savagely. Remus awoke writhing in pain. He doesn’t remember much from this period of his life but the severity of the bite which was still etched into his skin and the werewolf venom coursing through his veins was his first living memory that haunts him to this very day. His life was changed thereafter and sadly he can remember no different. His parents tried desperately to help him, fashioning chains in the basement to keep him safe during the full moon. So began his story with self-hatred. Remus despised what he had been turned into, he had learned about werewolves. They were spiteful and wicked and now he was infected with their same cruelty. He tried everything to stop the transformations but sheer willpower was not enough and after too many comments had propped up from his school about strange marks on his body his parents were forced to pull him from school. 

Like his father Remus had shown magical promise, leaving his mother and father worried about how he would be educated due to his condition. Lyall’s good friend ALASTOR MOODY [friend] had suggested Lyall be candid with the headmaster and it was due to the persuasive powers of ALBUS DUMBLEDORE [leader/former headmaster] and a firm promise that he would keep an eye on Remus that he was allowed to attend Hogwarts School alongside his peers that following September. After the bite, Remus had learned to keep himself to himself. It was better to not attract attention to himself, which was fairly difficult at times. At his core, Remus was a fun loving, intelligent and witty boy, which to the joy of his classmates he showed in the odd moment. His first friend at school LILY EVANS [close friend], was more perceptive than most eleven year olds and had learned the key to friendship with Remus was not to ask too many questions and make clever quips quietly to one another about the assigned reading or their less academically gifted classmates. It was perhaps this friendship with Lily that first put him on the radar of JAMES POTTER [best friend/housemate], though he knows now it was a multitude of things. 

His dorm mate was one of the most popular students in his year, amongst his friends and fellow dorm mates PETER PETTIGREW [best friend/housemate] and SIRIUS BLACK [best friend/housemate]. Although they got on the nerves of a fair few people, Remus landed on the side that he found them amusing and enjoyed their casual chats before bed and silently appreciated their attempts to get to know him. Their persistence to know him was the best thing that ever happened to Remus and although the most terrifying thing in the world was waking up in The Shrieking Shack after a full moon to find all three boys staring back at him, he has to this day never been more grateful for a singular event. For the first time he has true friends and the marauders came to know and love him even better than his own family. They didn’t care about his condition, in fact they learned to become animagus to accompany him on the full moon. Remus came into his own, a brighter and happier boy who would partake in practical jokes and parties by The Black Lake the boys became known for. Hogwarts was a happy time for Remus, a safe place to learn about himself and have responsibility given to him. 

He graduated with outstanding results, having been a prefect and with a loyal and brilliant set of friends, completed perfectly by MARLENE MCKINNON [close friend], DORCAS MEADOWES [close friend] and MARY MACDONALD [close friend]. Upon leaving Hogwarts at eighteen, all of the same fears he had aged eleven flooded back to him. With no Dumbledore to look out for him, Remus knew he would have to manage his condition alone in the workplace. Accepting a job at The Ministry of Magic as a crime scene photographer and analyst and moving in with James, Sirius and Peter. What had happened to Remus had changed his life forever and instead of letting it force him into depression, he used it as the catalyst to drive him forward. His expertise was vital to The Department of Magical Law Enforcement, especially in the wake of the death of BOOKER BAGNOLD [person of interest]. A suspected killer werewolf was on the loose, but the case did not quite add up to Remus, who knew exactly what it looked like to be attacked by a werewolf. 

Remus tried his best to get ALICIA AVERY-JONES [boss] to see to reason that Booker hadn’t been killed by a werewolf at all, but not wanting to draw attention to himself was forced to drop his quest and help The Ministry rule werewolf SILAS CRUMP [person of interest] as his killer. Three years on, Remus knows more. Now a member of The Order of The Phoenix alongside his friends; he knows that something much darker is at play and Silas Crump sitting in Azkaban weighs on him more heavily each day. With the guidance of FRANK LONGBOTTOM [mentor], Remus has been privately looking into Booker’s death for The Order; believing it might help establish some leads as to who may be hiding in the army of THE DARK LORD [adversary]. But with hate towards creatures on the rise and The Ministry trying to crack down on registration after the disappearance of ROSALIE FLINT [person of interest], Remus must try his best to help the cause he believes in without ruining his life and painting a target on his back, especially when there are those who can’t be trusted like SEVERUS SNAPE [adversary] who know his secret already. 

— he is a LEVEL 6 WIZARD & LEVEL 6 WEREWOLF readied for war ;

[fxproptech]

What are some trading strategies that proprietary trading firms use?

Introduction

Proprietary trading firms, or prop trading firms, have an important role in financial markets. The trading of various financial instruments such as stocks, currencies, commodities, and derivatives involves the capital of a proprietary trading firm. Proprietary trading firms are basically adopted for the generation of profits by employing the best trading strategies.

A few of the most commonly used trading strategies that a proprietary trading firm relies on to generate consistent returns follow.

1. Market Making

Market making is one of the key proprietary trading strategies. In this kind of strategy, the firm quotes to buy and sell a financial instrument simultaneously. The profit comes from the spread between the bid and the ask prices of the financial instrument. In this, the firm assures market-wide liquidity by entering into transactions with both the buyer and the seller. This strategy excels exceptionally within highly liquid markets like equities, futures, and forex, where participation is high.

The worth of market making, nevertheless, can be said to be considered as such to allow a proprietary trading firm to capture profits on each trade while minimizing its exposure to substantial market movements. Moreover, as they would be actively taking part in both sides of the transaction, they could benefit from high trading volume and, at the same time, provide market liquidity with earning good returns through spreads.

2. Arbitrage Trading

Arbitrage trading is also among the favorite strategies of proprietary trading firms. Arbitrage means simultaneous buying and selling of various markets or financial instruments to take advantage of the difference in pricing that may occur.

There are several types of arbitrage strategies:

Statistical Arbitrage: This involves the usage of statistical models to determine the mispricing between related financial instruments. Every time two 'correlated' assets diverge in price, the trader can buy the undervalued asset and simultaneously sell the overvalued one, making a profit when the prices get closer.

The triangular arbitrage in the forex market profits from the price divergence of three currency pairs. A trader executes the buy-sell operation by buying the currency, exchanging it for another one, and then finally selling it at a profit, without taking any directional risk.

Merger Arbitrage/Risk Arbitrage: This is applied in the case of any merger or acquisition of a company. Traders buy the stock of the target company and simultaneously short the stock of the acquiring company on the assumption that upon completion of the deal the price difference between the two would get adjusted.

It is attractive for proprietary trading firms because, in most cases, it entails very minimal risks, where traders will exploit inefficiencies rather than take directional bets on the market.

3. High-Frequency Trading, HFT

High-Frequency Trading, HFT, is another sophisticated strategy employed by a number of proprietary trading firms. It makes use of complex algorithms coupled with ultra-fast computers to execute a huge amount of trades within fractions of a second. This includes the exploitation of tiny price movements that occur within milliseconds, through which HFT traders may make small but consistent profits across thousands of trades per day.

HFT basically relies on speed, precision, and technology. Proprietary trading firms invest millions in the latest hardware and software to outcompete competitors. Co-locating their servers next to major stock exchanges helps them reduce latency and guarantee faster execution of trades.

HFT strategy varies from market making and statistical arbitrage to the provision of liquidity. This sort of strategy is actually used mostly by big proprietary trading firms because the complexity of the trade, its speed, and resource intensiveness are quite high.

4. Momentum Trading

Momentum trading is one of the most popular strategies, through which a trader tries to reap profits from the continuation of an already developed market trend. The philosophy behind it is that a trend, once established, is most likely to keep on going for some time. In momentum trading, traders will buy assets showing upward momentum and sell those with a downward trend.

Proprietary trading firms that use momentum strategies usually depend on technical analysis tools to identify the trend and timing of entry and exit. Markets on which momentum trading can be applied include commodities, stocks, and forex. This strategy will be of great help during great market movements, for instance, at earnings reports, central bank announcements, or geopolitical events.

For a proprietary trading firm, momentum trading can bring in a lot of money within the shortest period. It is also extremely risky because trends can shift back without any warning, making losses inevitable, especially when traders are not able to get out of those trades efficiently.

5. Quantitative Trading

Quantitative trading, sometimes referred to as "quant" trading, relies upon mathematical models in conjunction with statistical analysis. Proprietary trading firms utilize complex algorithms to pinpoint trading opportunities and automate an execution process. Quantitative trading strategies more often than not involve analysis of voluminous data to come up with patterns, correlations, and anomalies that could be profitably exploited.

Examples of quantitative strategies include:

Mean Reversion: This is a strategy based on the belief that over time, prices would revert to their mean. This strategy involves looking for assets that have diverted from the average taken through history and takes positions that price goes back to normal.

Trend Following: Trend following entails the use of algorithms in noticing and reacting to market trends. However, in general, the trend-following strategies tend to be even more systematic and depend a lot on predefined rules and parameters.

Quantitative trading: therefore, finds its largest following among big proprietary trading houses that possess technological capability and market data. Obviously, such firms can process much more information than human traders can, thanks to algorithms.

6. Event-Driven Trading

Event-driven trading is a strategy that tries to gain from important events that have an impact on the financial markets-for instance, earning reports, mergers and acquisitions, product launches, or releases of macroeconomic data. In this strategy, the traders focus on the anticipation of the immediate change in price an asset will undergo as a result of a specific event and will take positions accordingly.

Event-driven trading desks are run by proprietary trading firms through the constant screening of news and events to find an edge. In this strategy, traders need to have a good understanding of the various events that move markets and fast decision-making capabilities to take advantage of short-term price movements.

For instance, if a company announces earnings higher than expected, an event-driven trader will buy a stock in anticipation of the stock price going up; he or she can sell it short in case he or she expects news to declare something negative and lower the price.

7. Options Trading

Options trading is a form of speculation, by utilizing a derivative contract, on the movement of the prices of underlying positions or hedging an existing position. In options trading, a proprietary trading firm deploys several strategies that seek to benefit from price volatility, market movements, or time decay.

Some of the common options strategies include:

Straddles and Strangles: A position utilizing these two spreads goes with call and put options on an asset. This creates profit capability from considerable price movements on either side of the asset.

Iron Condor: The Iron Condor is an option selling strategy to take advantage of volatility selling. Selling one out-of-the-money call and one out-of-the-money put, this is constructed to hedge against an extremely low volatility environment.

This provides flexibility and leverage for proprietary trading firms to generate high returns with relatively small investments. Options trading provides many opportunities to a firm, enabling the firm to hedge positions and manage the risk of their portfolio.

Conclusion

The proprietary trading firms are involved with the following varied strategies to generate profit in the financial markets. Starting from market making to arbitrage, from high-frequency trading to event-driven strategy-the firms need cutting-edge technologies, data analysis, and sophisticated algorithms to stay competitive in each trading technology. Also, each of these strategies involves its own associated risks and rewards, so combining these strategies is probably the best approach among proprietary trading firms towards return maximization with minimum risk.

While being constantly adaptive and evolving, proprietary trading firms lead the edges of the market by introducing innovative concepts along with liquidity and benefiting from dynamic market conditions.

[propw]

Mastering Futures Prop Trading: A Guide for Traders

Futures prop trading has become a popular avenue for traders looking to capitalize on market fluctuations without the need for personal capital. By partnering with a futures prop trading firm, traders gain access to significant capital, allowing them to execute large trades and share the profits with the firm. This model presents unique opportunities and challenges that traders must understand to be successful. In this article, we will dive into the intricacies of futures prop trading, its benefits, and how traders can thrive in this fast-paced environment.

What is Futures Prop Trading?

Futures prop trading refers to a type of proprietary trading where traders buy and sell futures contracts using the firm's capital rather than their own. Futures contracts are agreements to buy or sell an asset at a predetermined price on a specific date. This type of trading allows individuals to speculate on the future price of commodities, currencies, indices, and more.

The firm's capital helps traders execute trades that would otherwise be inaccessible to them. In return, the profits from successful trades are shared between the trader and the firm, typically with the firm taking a higher percentage since they provide the risk capital.

Why Work with a Futures Prop Trading Firm?

Working with a futures prop trading firm can be extremely beneficial for experienced traders looking to scale their strategies. One of the biggest advantages is the ability to leverage significant capital, which allows traders to execute larger positions and potentially achieve higher returns. For traders who have a proven track record of success but limited personal funds, this can be a game-changer.

Another benefit is the access to advanced trading platforms and proprietary technology that firms often provide. These platforms are designed for high-frequency trading and come equipped with sophisticated tools that can help traders analyze market data, manage risk, and execute trades more efficiently.

The Key to Success in Futures Prop Trading

Success in futures prop trading depends largely on a trader's ability to manage risk and maintain discipline. Since futures contracts are highly leveraged, it’s possible to make large gains, but the potential for loss is equally high. Traders must have a strong understanding of market trends, be able to execute strategies quickly, and know when to exit a position to prevent excessive losses.

Discipline and emotional control are crucial. The fast-paced nature of futures trading can make it tempting to overtrade or chase losses, but doing so can quickly erode capital. Successful traders develop a solid trading plan, adhere strictly to risk management rules, and remain consistent in their approach regardless of market volatility.

Choosing the Right Futures Prop Trading Firm

Selecting the right firm is a critical decision for any trader. The best firms offer extensive support, including training, technology, and access to capital. It’s important to assess the firm’s reputation, profit-sharing structure, and the quality of their proprietary platforms before committing.

Additionally, traders should consider how much flexibility the firm offers. Some firms may require traders to follow a specific strategy, while others allow traders more freedom in their trading approach. Finding a firm that aligns with your trading style and goals is essential for long-term success.

The Future of Futures Prop Trading

The landscape of futures prop trading continues to evolve, especially with the rise of automation and algorithmic trading. Many firms are investing heavily in technology to give traders a competitive edge. As markets become more efficient, traders will need to continuously adapt and refine their strategies to stay ahead.

Despite the challenges, futures prop trading remains an attractive option for skilled traders who are willing to put in the work. With the right firm, traders can take advantage of the immense opportunities available in the futures market and achieve significant financial success.

For traders looking to take their skills to the next level, futures prop trading offers a unique opportunity to leverage firm capital and access advanced trading platforms. Partnering with the right firm can provide the support and resources needed to succeed in the fast-paced world of futures trading. If you are considering a career in this field, it’s essential to do your research and choose a firm that aligns with your goals and trading style. A firm like CoinW PropTrading can be the perfect partner for traders looking to scale their strategies and maximize their returns.

[bygg6rttr]

Veteran Forex & Crypto Traders Unite for Prop Trading Revolution

The world of proprietary trading is undergoing a significant transformation as veteran Forex and crypto traders join forces to revolutionize the landscape. This collaboration aims to leverage the vast experience and unique insights of seasoned traders to create a more dynamic and profitable prop trading environment. Here’s an in-depth look at how these traders are driving change and what it means for the future of prop trading.

The Emergence of a New Trading Paradigm

Proprietary trading, commonly known as prop trading, involves a firm trading stocks, bonds, commodities, or other financial instruments with its own money rather than on behalf of clients. The objective is to generate profits by taking advantage of market opportunities. Traditionally dominated by institutions, prop trading is now seeing an influx of individual veteran traders, particularly from the Forex and crypto markets.

These traders bring a wealth of experience, having navigated through the highs and lows of highly volatile markets. Their expertise in managing risk, identifying market trends, and executing complex trades is invaluable in the prop trading sector. This convergence of skills is setting the stage for a new era in prop trading, characterized by innovation, agility, and enhanced profitability.

Leveraging Technology and Expertise

One of the key drivers of this revolution is the integration of advanced technology with traditional trading strategies. Veteran traders are adept at utilizing sophisticated trading platforms, algorithms, and data analytics to make informed decisions. The combination of human expertise and cutting-edge technology enables these traders to identify and capitalize on market inefficiencies more effectively than ever before.

Moreover, the experience of veteran traders in handling high-frequency trading (HFT) and algorithmic trading provides a significant edge. HFT involves executing a large number of orders at extremely high speeds, while algorithmic trading relies on pre-programmed instructions to trade. Both require a deep understanding of market mechanics and the ability to respond to changes instantaneously—skills that veteran traders possess in abundance.

Risk Management and Market Insights

Effective risk management is crucial in prop trading, and this is where veteran traders excel. Their ability to assess and mitigate risks comes from years of experience dealing with unpredictable market conditions. They employ a range of strategies, such as diversification, hedging, and using stop-loss orders, to protect their capital and maximize returns.

In addition to risk management, veteran traders offer valuable market insights. Their extensive knowledge of market cycles, behavioral patterns, and economic indicators enables them to predict market movements with a high degree of accuracy. This foresight is instrumental in making strategic trading decisions that can yield substantial profits.

Collaboration and Knowledge Sharing

The collaboration among veteran Forex and crypto traders is fostering a culture of knowledge sharing and continuous learning. Prop trading firms are increasingly adopting a team-based approach, where traders work together to analyze market trends, develop strategies, and execute trades. This collaborative environment encourages the exchange of ideas and best practices, leading to more innovative and effective trading solutions.

Furthermore, prop trading firms are investing in education and training programs to equip their traders with the latest tools and techniques. Veteran traders often play a mentorship role, guiding less experienced traders and helping them hone their skills. This focus on professional development ensures that the trading team remains at the forefront of industry advancements.

Impact on the Prop Trading Industry

The entry of veteran Forex and crypto traders into the prop trading arena is reshaping the industry in several ways:

Increased Competitiveness: The influx of experienced traders is raising the bar for performance, pushing firms to adopt more sophisticated strategies and technologies.

Enhanced Profitability: The combination of seasoned expertise and advanced trading tools is driving higher profits and better risk-adjusted returns.

Innovation: The collaborative efforts of veteran traders are leading to the development of new trading methodologies and approaches, setting new industry standards.

Diversification: The integration of Forex and crypto trading strategies is broadening the scope of prop trading, allowing firms to explore a wider range of market opportunities.

Conclusion

The union of veteran Forex and crypto traders in the prop trading sector marks the beginning of a new chapter in the industry. Their wealth of experience, coupled with the adoption of advanced technology and collaborative practices, is transforming prop trading into a more dynamic, innovative, and profitable endeavor. As these traders continue to push the boundaries of what’s possible, the future of prop trading looks brighter than ever.

For businesses looking to capitalize on these developments, engaging with a PR agency like PRWireNOW can help effectively communicate these advancements and build a strong brand presence in the market.

[tradingtips]

Unlock Trading Success: The Ultimate Guide to Instant Funding Prop Firms

In the ever-evolving landscape of trading, instant funding prop firms have emerged as a game-changer. But what exactly are they, and why are they so significant in the trading world? Let's dive in and explore this fascinating topic.

Understanding Prop Firms

What is a Prop Firm?

A prop firm, short for proprietary trading firm, is a financial company that invests its own capital in trading. Unlike traditional firms that manage client funds, best prop firms leverage their own resources, taking on the risk and reward themselves.

History and Evolution of Prop Firms

Prop trading has its roots in the early days of Wall Street, where firms employed skilled traders to maximize their profits. Over time, this model has evolved, incorporating advanced technologies and diverse financial instruments, making prop firms more dynamic and accessible.

What is Instant Funding?

Explanation of Instant Funding

Instant funding refers to the immediate provision of capital to traders by prop firms. This model allows traders to start trading without the usual lengthy vetting process associated with traditional funding methods.

How it Differs from Traditional Funding

Traditional funding often involves rigorous evaluations, capital commitments, and long waiting periods. Instant funding, on the other hand, bypasses these hurdles, offering traders quick access to funds based on their trading potential and performance.

Advantages of Instant Funding Prop Firms

Quick Access to Capital

One of the biggest draws of instant funding prop firms is the speed at which traders can access capital. This allows traders to seize market opportunities without delay.

Flexibility in Trading

These firms provide significant flexibility, allowing traders to employ various strategies without being tied down by stringent rules or substantial personal capital.

Low-Risk Opportunities

For many traders, the risk is a significant barrier. Instant funding prop firms mitigate this by sharing the risk, providing a safety net that encourages more bold and innovative trading approaches.

How Instant Funding Prop Firms Operate

Funding Process

The funding process in these firms is streamlined. Traders typically go through one step evaluation prop firm period, after which they receive immediate capital to start trading.

Requirements for Traders

While requirements can vary, most firms look for traders with a proven track record, a sound trading strategy, and a clear understanding of trading risk management.

Performance Evaluations

Regular performance evaluations are conducted to ensure traders meet specific benchmarks. These evaluations help both the trader and the firm align their strategies for mutual success.

Popular Instant Funding Prop Firms

Overview of Top Firms

Several firms stand out in the instant funding space, each offering unique benefits. Some of the most popular include FTMO, TopstepTrader, and MyForexFunds.

Comparison of Their Offerings

The Talented Trader: Known for its comprehensive evaluation process and generous profit splits.

TopstepTrader: Focuses on futures trading and offers extensive educational resources.

MyForexFunds: Provides a range of account types and flexible funding options.

How to Choose the Right Prop Firm

Factors to Consider

When selecting a prop trading firms, consider factors like the funding amount, profit split, evaluation process, and support services. It's essential to choose a firm that aligns with your trading style and goals.

Questions to Ask

What is the evaluation process like?

How much capital can I access initially?

What are the performance benchmarks?

Are there any hidden fees?

Requirements to Join an Instant Funding Prop Firm

Skills Needed

Successful traders typically possess strong analytical skills, discipline, and a deep understanding of market dynamics.

Trading Experience

While some firms welcome beginners, having prior trading experience can significantly boost your chances of securing funding and succeeding.

Financial Prerequisites

Most firms require a small initial fee to cover the evaluation process. This fee is usually nominal compared to the potential funding amount.

Trading Strategies for Success

Recommended Trading Strategies

Strategies like day trading, swing trading, and scalping are popular among prop traders. Each strategy requires a different approach and level of expertise.

Risk Management Tips

Effective risk management is crucial. Techniques like setting stop-loss orders, diversifying trades, and keeping a trading journal can help mitigate losses and maximize profits.

Common Challenges and Solutions

Dealing with Performance Pressure

Performance pressure is a common challenge. To manage this, set realistic goals, maintain a positive mindset, and avoid overtrading.

Overcoming Trading Losses

Trading losses are inevitable. The key is to learn from them, adapt your strategy, and stay disciplined to bounce back stronger.

The Role of Technology in Instant Funding

Technological Advancements

Technology plays a pivotal role in modern prop trading. Advanced algorithms, AI, and real-time data analytics empower traders to make informed decisions swiftly.

Use of Trading Platforms

Prop firms often provide state-of-the-art trading platforms, offering tools and resources that enhance trading efficiency and effectiveness.

Instant Funding vs. Traditional Prop Trading

Key Differences

Instant funding offers faster access to capital and fewer barriers to entry compared to traditional prop firm trading, which often involves extensive evaluations and higher initial capital requirements.

Pros and Cons of Each

Instant Funding: Pros include quick access and lower risk. Cons might include less comprehensive support and training.

Traditional Prop Trading: Pros include thorough training and higher potential funding. Cons involve longer waiting times and higher initial costs.

Case Studies

Success Stories

Many traders have found success with instant funding prop firms. For example, a trader might secure $100,000 in capital after a brief evaluation and quickly double it through strategic trading.

Lessons Learned from Failed Attempts

On the flip side, some traders fail due to poor risk management or lack of discipline. These cases highlight the importance of a solid strategy and emotional control.

Future of Instant Funding Prop Firms

Emerging Trends

The industry is evolving with trends like AI-driven trading, decentralized finance (DeFi) integrations, and more personalized trader support services.

Predictions for the Industry

Experts predict continued growth for instant funding prop firms, with increasing accessibility and more innovative funding solutions becoming the norm.

Conclusion

Instant funding prop firms are revolutionizing the trading world, offering traders quick access to capital and low-risk opportunities. By understanding how these firms operate and what they offer, traders can make informed decisions and capitalize on the benefits they provide.

Frequently Asked Questions (FAQs):

Q. What is the typical funding amount provided by instant funding prop firms?

The typical funding amount varies but usually ranges from $10,000 to $200,000, depending on the trader's experience and the firm's evaluation process.

Q. Can beginners join an instant funding prop firm?

Yes, some firms welcome beginners, although having some trading experience can increase your chances of success.

Q. How do instant funding prop firms make money?

These firms make money through profit splits with traders, evaluation fees, and sometimes through spreads and commissions on trades.

Q. What happens if I don't meet the trading performance requirements?

If performance requirements aren't met, traders might lose access to their funding or face reevaluation. Some firms offer second chances or retraining programs.

Q. Are there any hidden fees in instant funding prop firms?

While most firms are transparent about their fees, it's essential to read the fine print to ensure there are no unexpected charges.

Blog Source: Unlock Trading Success: The Ultimate Guide to Instant Funding Prop Firms

[dubai7resourceslimited]

Smart Prop Trader: Earn a Day Trading Funded Account in Just a Few Hours!

A day trading funded account is when a trader receives funding from a prop trading firm to trade risk-free. This funded trading account allows traders to profit from day-trading futures markets without risking their own capital. Smart Prop Trader offers an incentive for traders where they receive 75% of subsequent profits. Traders who meet the conditions of the firm’s scaling plan can enjoy a 25% increase in their virtual account balance, with the payout ratio automatically changing to 95:5. Being funded removes the worries of trading personal capital, allowing traders to test systems and strategies. It also gives them the chance to be successful in the trading markets.

Build Your Career with SPT’s Funded Trading Account

Get funded by Smart Prop Trader, a prop firm whose interests will surely align with your trading objectives.

Complete the firm’s 2-step evaluation in both its Standard and Pro Challenges and get fully funded with capital allocation of up to $400,000.

Access day trading funded accounts ranging from $5K to $100K in the firm’s Standard Challenge and accounts ranging between $5K and $50K in the firm’s Pro Challenge.

One-time reimbursable trading account fee for accounts in the Standard Challenge ranges between $57 and $497. Trading accounts in the Pro Challenge may cost between $67 and $357.

Join the firm’s Discord channel to chat, comment, share, post, and analyze trading tips and insights. Maximize your profit potential with the firm’s multiple funding sources and huge funding network.

Why Smart Prop Trader Beats the Rest in Competition?

Some exclusive points that make SPT an unmatched choice when it comes to choosing the best day-trading funded account provider are as follows:

Meet 7% and 5% profit targets in the first and second phases of the Standard Challenge and progress as a Smart Prop Trader.

Opt for the Pro Challenge; meet profit targets of 8% and 5% for Phase 1 and Phase 2 to become a successful Smart Prop Trader.

Trade with up to $400,000 allocated as capital and withdraw profits up to 75%.

Perform well consistently and extend your profit split ratio to 95:5 and a 25% increase in your virtual trading account balance.

Get a $ 400,000-day trading-funded account with a maximum 8% drawdown and a daily drawdown of 4% in the firm’s Standard Challenge. Maximum drawdown is set at 12% and daily drawdown at 5% in SPT’s Pro Challenge.

Unlimited profit withdrawals right from Day 1.

24/7 customer support through email, live chat, and phone

Simple and generous referral program where existing traders can earn a commission of 7.5% up to 12.5% of their first paid Smart Prop Trader Challenge price. For 1-9 referrals, you earn a commission of 7.5%, 10% commission for 10-99 referrals, and 12.5% commission for more than 100 referrals.

The firm starts processing your day trading funded account as soon as payment is received. The moment your trading virtual account is created, you will get an email notification with your login credentials to the platform.

So, without delay, make the smart choice and become a funded trader today; contact the support team at Smart Prop Trader via the platform’s 24/7 discord support: https://discord.gg/spt

Register on their website to buy your challenge account, track your account growth, participate in free monthly trading competitions, and join their online community by engaging in tasks for giveaways at https://www.smartproptrader.com/ now!

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