#Price Oscillators

[allaboutforexworld]

Momentum Trading: Forex Trading Strategy Explained

Momentum trading is a strategy that seeks to capitalize on the continuance of existing trends in the market. By focusing on the strength of price movements, traders can make informed decisions and optimize their profits. What is Momentum Trading? Momentum trading involves buying and selling currency pairs based on recent price trends. The core idea is that strong movements in the market tend to…

[zaggyzoo]

AND client support didn't even offer me a discount

[cheesecurdsgravyandfries]

More Thoughts of Dog

This time, from the POV of Hawk in E.L. Massey's Breakaway series.

Rated General.

[naivety]

my sworn enemy and friend apartments dot com

[dencyemily]

Exploring Historical Trends: XRP Analysis and a Forward Look to 2024

In the ever-evolving landscape of cryptocurrency, Egrag Crypto, a prominent analyst, has presented a nuanced analysis shedding light on the historical surges of XRP. The in-depth examination, hosted on the X platform, revolves around XRP's Average Sentiment Oscillator (ASO) and skillfully draws parallels with noteworthy patterns, particularly those observed in 2017.

A standout revelation in Egrag's analysis showcases a staggering 55,000% surge within a six-month period, designated as Point A on the chart. This epoch signifies a phase of extraordinary and rapid price appreciation for XRP. Subsequently, Point B denotes a substantial 1,500% surge over five months, underscoring a pivotal juncture in XRP's trajectory.

The most recent data, identified as Point C, spans nine months following Point B. This timeframe witnessed a downturn in XRP's performance but has recently hinted at potential recovery, a critical observation with implications for both traders and investors.

The chart, a visual representation of this comprehensive analysis, introduces two trend lines, distinguished in red and blue. These likely represent indicators or moving averages crucial for predicting momentum and future price directions. Dotted lines and geometric shapes contribute to the chart's complexity, hinting at specific technical patterns and significant price levels such as support and resistance.

Furthermore, the timeline markers on the chart extend from 2016 to July 2024, providing a holistic view of XRP's price movement over the years. The chart's dense technical terminology caters to seasoned traders and those well-versed in technical analysis.

Egrag Crypto's analysis transcends being a mere reflection of past trends; it serves as a guide for future expectations. The annotated "Check Here" points on the chart direct viewers toward potential trading opportunities, offering invaluable insights in the dynamically evolving crypto market.

However, it is imperative to consider the current market scenario. According to CoinMarketCap, XRP is currently priced at $0.570888, experiencing a minor dip of 0.82% in the last 24 hours. This real-time update adds a pragmatic dimension to the analysis, aligning it with the current market conditions.

Egrag Crypto's meticulous analysis provides a captivating narrative of XRP's journey and anticipates its future potential. In the ever-changing crypto landscape, characterized by fluctuations and trends, such insights are invaluable for enthusiasts and investors alike.

[cryptoschmypto]

Here Is A List Of The Most Common Trading Indicators

In trading, an indicator is a statistical measure of market conditions used to forecast price changes. These are some of the most commonly used trading indicators, which are typically available on trading platforms like KuCoin: Simple Moving Average (SMA): An average of the price over a certain number of periods (like days or hours). The formula for SMA is (A1+A2+A3…+An)/n, where A is the asset…

[ceilidho]

soap developing an unhealthy attachment to his therapist post his brush with death after being shot at point blank range. he was reluctant to see a therapist at first because he didn't like what it said about him that he was being more or less strong armed into seeing a shrink (like no one trusts him anymore; they don't think his head's on straight since being shot), but as time goes on, he grows to cherish the relationship he's cultivated with his therapist because,

well,

she understands him. she listens to him. where everyone else seems to want him to just hurry up and get better (the nightmares, the mid-sentence brain fog, the erratic mood swings, the silent brooding when he can't find the words, aphasia on the tip of his tongue, the constant, constant headaches and auditory hallucinations that he can't seem to kick), she doesn't put any pressure on him to heal right away. she works with him and his medical team; gives him the space to process what happened to him, and has a seemingly bottomless wealth of patience for him.

he can talk for hours in her presence. it's a shame their time together is limited to an hour and a half every week. the dulcet sound of her voice is such a comfort to him. it's a shame she politely but firmly rejects his advances when he finally asks her out, tells him that it wouldn't even be appropriate for them to be friends outside of his sessions. that it would in some way hinder his healing journey. which pisses him off because Soap has progressed in leaps and bounds since those early days when he used to stumble over his words sitting on the couch across from her, head in his hands when the language felt beyond his grasp, a fine tremor still running through his hands that he's since managed to contain,

and

his head is throbbing again. a sharp pain above his eye that pulsates like a drum in his head and -

he thinks about her constantly. in and out of sessions. she's a frequent topic of conversation when the brass finally lets him back out in the field, Makarov finally dealt with (resting six feet deep in an unmarked grave). he ignores the looks oscillating between concern and worry that Price gives him. ignores the way Ghost barks at him to quit bothering the bird in the tight skirt and fuck someone that won't get him discharged. ignores the way Gaz pulls him to the side to ask if maybe he needs to see another therapist, y'know, mate...get some distance.

they act like this is something new. an abberation and not his very nature. like he hasn't always been the type to lock onto a scent like a hunting dog. a sniper by training. he sits and he watches and he waits; waits for the right moment that he alone knows.

it comes to him on an inauspicious day, when he's leaving the training facilities and spots his sweet thing rummaging around in the boot of her car, her ass beckoning him forward like a siren's call. now, now, now, the little itch in his head says, the voice that knows when the time is right. it's a sense acquired through conscious and unconscious observation, letting it all filter into his frontal cortex until he knows without knowing that the parking lot is empty apart from the two of them and the men at the base gates half a mile away.

it would take nothing for him to come up behind her and push her into the boot. nothing to wrestle the purse from her hands and slam the trunk shut. nothing to drive off base with a flick of his fingers to the guards that hardly ever bother to question him before he leaves (though they know what car he actually drives), made complacent by familiarity.

and he knows that it's wrong, knows that there's a line that he shouldn't cross, that choices have consequences, but,

his mouth salivates when her hips twitch, the urge to take settling over him. surely they'd forgive him one indiscretion.

[chocodile]

Amaranthine Magic System PART I: Remedial Magic For Beginners

This is Part III of a three-part worldbuilding set.

Part I (you are here) - Part II - Part III

Okay so… weird starting point, but do you remember these jerks from middle school math class? Function graphs! (I hated these things so much) The simplest possible function is a basic straight line, but by modifying the function, the graphed line can distort and take on all sorts of new shapes.

Magic is a lot like that.

The best way to describe spellcasting would be “filtering waves of energy”. Imagine a sine wave, oscillating up and down in a simple, predictable pattern. That is magical energy in its default state. It exists as background radiation throughout the whole world and permeates all living things… though some things conduct magic better or worse than others. (Magic has a lot in common with the electromagnetic spectrum in the real world)

What wizards do when they cast magic is that they amplify and tweak this ambient background energy in just the right way to contort it into a new form (lightning, a shockwave, fire, etc). The core nature of the energy doesn’t really change, but by exaggerating, filtering, and suppressing that oscillating wave in just the right amounts, in just the right places, in just the right order, it can be transformed into something very different than its base form. You could also think of it a bit like a musician playing a wind instrument, modulating the tone by covering and uncovering holes, or a puppetmaster pulling strings of a marionette—you need to deeply understand the physics at play and give each string just the right amount of slack and pull to make it do what you want.

The most common type of magical energy is magic in a neutral, passive state, just sort of existing passively as background radiation. Like the electromagnetic spectrum and gravity, it is deeply intertwined with how life evolved in this world, but also is so innate as to be largely unnoticeable. It is energy without a physical form. However, it can be harnessed and stored, given the right conduit. Under these circumstances it behaves similar to electricity.

Certain types of physical material are better at holding and manipulating magic than others. Substances that hold or amplify magic work because something about their physical molecular structure bends and filters the magic “waves” in a way that “traps” that energy inside of them, or amplifies the frequency of the waves. Nearly all crystalline structures and precious gems have some sort of magic-amplifying capability, with the best ones being highly prized and fetching crazy prices for large, pure specimens. Skilled Old Kingdom wizards could engineer such gemstones into Catalyst Stones, a special type of battery/amplifier that wizards could use to cast spells beyond their normal limits. Gemstones and crystals have been traditionally associated with wizards for this reason. However, they are far from the only material with a magical affinity—just one of the most easily recognizable.

…Additionally, other materials might have the opposite effect. Iron is well-known for its wizard-subduing properties. Simply being in a room with a large piece of iron makes a wizard feel ill and weakens their powers. Iron manacles and chains are commonly used to imprison criminal wizards. Not only do they aggressively drain magic from the air, matter, and flesh around them, they prevent the hand gestures that might allow a weakened mage to do any magical manipulation at all.

Magical energy is distributed throughout the world unevenly. Occasionally, the concentration of magic in an area is so high that the environment itself becomes effectively enchanted. A certain range of mountains might be rich in magical ores that have a subtle effect on how water in the region behaves, causing strangely shaped caves and ridges to form in the region. A woodland might be home to a large number of mushrooms that have adapted to make use of magic as a defense mechanism, causing the glen to disorient travelers who walk through it. Magic is infamous for distorting compass readings, too, forcing travelers to carry protective charms to keep their tools usable.

There are all sorts of weird subtle little things like that that can be caused by high concentrations of magic, and magically concentrated areas often have very unique biodiversity that evolved to make use of that specific environment. Discovering, exploring, studying, and documenting these regions is of great interest to many magical scholars (as well as the state interests sometimes backing them, of course).

Magic can do a lot of weird stuff in Amaranthine, but it isn’t as open-ended as most other types of fantasy magic. Things like turning oneself into a dragon are no more possible than they are in real life (unfortunately for some who may wish otherwise). You can get pretty creative with it, and there are surely techniques yet undiscovered that even Hyden doesn’t know about, but no matter how fancy your spellcasting gets, it’ll always just be “manipulating waves of energy”.

[thisisnotthenerd]

putting the tl;dr at the top as a poll and the commentary under the cut because it’s quite rambly and it’s also late and i’m tired.

*whether dorian is one of these is up for debate

there’s some discussion of bell’s hells not having the “it” factor for a lot of people. even though it’s my first campaign and the only one i’ve mostly watched live, i kind of have to agree.

there’s a distinctive lack of investment in backstory for the group in terms of what they’ve spent time on in campaign. i think fearne is the only one who’s been done justice, even though we’ve seen other exploration, because they’ve been to her home multiple times, and while her backstory isn’t central to the main plot, it is close. it’s enough distance for her to be able to develop as a character but also for us to see where she came from.

imogen’s is tied directly to the main moon plot, so she’s had screen time aplenty, but less time to develop quietly, as laura does really well. i might argue for orym, but that’s because his is kept simple but with depth. his backstory comes through in the acting because he’s put up against his family members occasionally, but he’s a little guy at root.

for everyone else it’s been short detours. sometimes not even that. the spotlight oscillates between moon plot and god arguments with indecisive wandering in between.

while not everyone in vox machina inherently had a deep personal connection to the big bads of their campaigns, they didn’t need to. they did it for their friends, because they loved and trusted one another deeply. they made decisions about what they were facing and stuck to it, even when it meant sacrifice. they made multiple levels of friendship around and across the table.

at this point bell’s hells has been told a bunch of different things to do. and honestly i don’t know if they ever decided on one.

that’s not the point of this though.

there’s some archetypes or dnd players out there: roleplayers and power gamers. people who are all in it for the story and people who are all in it for the game. and it reflects in the characters they build.

somehow bell’s hells (collectively) is neither.

they don’t have strong investment in the plot collectively. the character concepts range from simple to deeply complex, and i have to say that i think the simpler has worked better for a plot-heavy campaign, because the characters that started simpler had a chance to develop over the campaign rather than competing for time between the plot and their own stories hanging over their heads.

take dorian. he was a humble bard, a former noble, who’s trying to make his way in the world. he refused great power from an evil source and paid the price in the loss of his brother. he fell in love as the world ended, and is still trying to sing the songs of the people he loves because he wants to bring people joy and bring them together. he’s invested in stopping predathos because of his friends, but also to avenge loss, and to protect the people of his homeland and take up his responsibility as heir to the silken squall.

it took a paragraph. but at the table, even when he was with the crown keepers for a few months, he fits right in. he’s had growth while keeping true to his core.

i’m not going to get into the rest now but there’s a definite element of throwing shit at a wall and seeing what sticks.

anyways, beyond the difficulties of backstory, they’re not super optimized. i’m of the belief that optimization works in tandem with roleplay—the characters are growing and changing over the course of the story, and having the mechanics trace that and make choices impactful is a big part of the appeal of the game.

watching vox machina and the mighty nein fight is a treat because not only are they level 20 and therefore godlike in power, their mechanics support interesting combat where failure hits hard because they’re built to succeed. when someone fails a save or misses it means something. they have options in their wheelhouse but they’ve found their niches and know how to play to their strengths.

bell’s hells is playing high level combat right now, but they have middling stats: lots of dump stats, 10-14s in the middle and some attacks/spell saves that aren’t as high as you’d expect of level 15 characters. they have several characters with perhaps too many options, and have made some weird strategic decisions. they’re indecisive. in combination with fluctuating luck from the dice, there’s times where they can wreck house, but also times of them failing saves, missing on full turns, losing resources, and overall failing more than they succeed.

also bell’s hells don’t make big decisions in combat unless they’re absolutely forced to. in the last arc pre-final battle, the big battles were otohan on ruidus, dominox and ludinus in aeor (+delilah), zathuda and the unseelie in the feywild. with otohan, they were dying all around until fcg’s sacrifice. literally end of the line. then in aeor, they fought to end dominox, got whammied with downfall, and then had the delilah fight, but then her sealing came later. they fought in the arch heart’s temple, but the big revelations came on the heels of that, between the arch heart themself and then zathuda being strung up on the loom.

but of a tangent: i don’t think naddpod and critical role can be fairly compared, because they’re different in tone and telling very different stories. i relistened to naddpod c1 recently along with the last few episodes of c3 as we approach the finale, and while they have gotten more creative on the character building side, the story is still well done and combat is fun to listen to. they have had moments of deep tragedy on naddpod. they’ve had cameos of old characters, and even had one of them as a pc for a full arc mid-campaign 3. they’ve explored the future of the world of bahumia after the events of c1.

and while the story is satisfying and fun, the combat is also satisfying and fun. not just because murph is really good at building combats that are interesting in theater of the mind, but because the characters are built to be good at what they do. and when they go down, when they miss, when they fail, it hits harder. but they bounce back and keep going even when the circumstances suck. and they make narratively important decisions during combat.

with bell’s hells, i have often noted a split between their combat and roleplay. i like matt’s combats. i think they’re fun and make good use of a variety of enemies, terrain, and complicating factors. with vm and mn, it makes for really engaging episodes of combat, where they make use of the environment tactically and get to discover elements of how the field is set up as they go. i’m using the recent examples, which are not entirely inclusive but generally reflective of their combat trends.

vox machina fought their way off an airship, onto a chaotic battlefield, and then stealthed up to the malleus key, where they proceeded to defeat ozo cruth, break the bloody bridge, and get vax out of imprisonment. the mighty nein stealthed around kreviris, met with the volition, zip lined to and blew up the arx creonum, and then snuck through to meet the weave mind in combat. i can recall fun details and clutch moves, big risks including characters dying, and overall, battles that had character interaction.

as i’ve talked about before, bell’s hells gets whomped. they swing for the fences on some things, but when it doesn’t pay off it’s not just a missed opportunity, it’s often an active barrier or a loss of valuable resources that drive them closer to crisis.

imogen’s whirlwind, laudna’s disintegrate, and dorian’s forcecage were all great moves this episode. it also means they’re down some of their highest level spells before they actually face ludinus and/or predathos. granted they have the orb. but whether they can use it will be variable.

[229zmi]

MY HEART, IT BEATS FOR YOU

Nagi Seishirō/Reader | 1.0k words, fluff, jealous nagi

Nagi, generally, is an apathetic person.

Yet somehow, there’s a taut feeling that twists its way through the gaps of his ribcage, stretching around his heart as his eyes linger on the fabric that hangs around your shoulders. Seeing you on the couch, casually scrolling on your phone while wearing a jacket he can’t recognise as yours or, even better, his as much as he wants to — the sight elicits something that’s not quite a painful feeling, but it isn’t exactly pleasant either, he thinks.

The wheels are still turning in his head when you finally acknowledge his presence with a smile, oblivious to the way he’s not even looking at you when you tell him, “Hey, Sei.”

Instead, he trudges over to you with the same passion as that of a sloth, and his voice comes out small, almost as if that same feeling in his chest has crawled past his shoulder to constrict his throat.

“That jacket— it’s not yours, is it?” It’s plain and simple, the way he states the observation, yet laced with the most marginal hint of spite.

“No, it’s Reo’s,” you confirm without missing a beat, and he narrows his eyes, so subtly that you don’t even catch it. You continue on about how you bumped into Reo by pure coincidence on your way to run an errand and how the weather’s been so volatile lately, oscillating between warm and sunny one day and freezing cold during the next. But Nagi—

Well—

Here’s the thing: as impassive as he is most of the time, Nagi is a great listener when it comes to you.

You’ve always been a priority to him and even more so in that facet. To relish in the fleeting moments of winning a game on his phone, or to know what happens in the latest chapter of his favourite manga as soon as possible — the rush of satisfaction he gets out of those is nice, he supposes, but not worth missing a word of what you say, be it something miscellaneous about your day or the biggest news he’s ever heard in his life.

And certainly, nothing is worth missing the small habits that make themselves known in your conversation, that make up the you he first swore love to near the bench outside the convenience store, holding your favourite snack in one hand and offering his jacket to you with his other because the harshness of springtime winds had swept away any warmth your flimsy sweater could contain.

It’s your facial expressions, your gestures, the way you look toward him at the end of each rambling, as if to ask, Are you listening? So then, he’ll answer— a nod, as if to say, Yes. Of course. Please say more. Because for you, it’s all ears and eyes wide open on his end.

But Nagi, admittedly, isn’t perfect, and this is not a matter of opinion. Even you can see the way he can’t stop staring hard at your jacket as though he’s trying to telepathically morph it into something that looks like it came from his closet instead.

Midway through an elaborate plan to sell the jacket for an outrageously high price on some sketchy website (you’re only half-joking… maybe), you finally notice his distant expression. “…Sei?”

His lack of response is all the confirmation you need for your suspicions. A grin then crosses your face, while your eyes sport a gleam that Nagi recognises as smugness once he eventually tears his focus away from the offending item of clothing.

You say his name again, this time teasingly. Then, “Are you jeal—?”

Your question cuts off unceremoniously when his hands reach over to latch onto the zipper of the jacket, pulling it down before tugging on the fabric near your shoulders. Despite the boldness of his actions, you don’t make any move to stop him as he flings Reo’s jacket across the room, hearing it land on the floor with a satisfying sound.

Moments later, he shrugs his jacket off in one smooth motion and then drapes it over your body. With his large palms smoothing over the fabric against your upper arms, it’s such a sweet gesture that you can’t find it in yourself to complain, although the opportunity to poke fun at him is hard to let slip.

“Woah, there.��� Cheekily, you brush that one abnormally long part of his bangs away from his face and poke the tip of his nose, to which he responds with his signature pout before burying his face into the crook of your neck. As your back hits the cushion of the arm rest behind you and your hands come up to comb through his hair, you feel a bout of warmth surge through your collarbone area, accompanied by the sound of his voice muffled by your skin.

“I’m not jealous.”

A smile dances around the corners of your mouth despite your efforts to conceal it. “Really?” you say. “I think you are.”

“Nuh-uh,” he grumbles. “You can’t prove it.”

“I mean. You’re kinda all over me right now.”

He huffs at the flurry of giggles that tumble from your mouth boundlessly, like clothes spilling out of an overpacked suitcase. Though, when your laughter finally simmers down and humour seems to have come to a standstill in your conversation, sentimentality weaves its way into your voice, in between mixed undertones of reassurance and leftover amusement.

(Because what you’re about to say is nothing but the truth itself: ardent and vulnerable, despite the sheer casualness in the way you present it.)

“You’re the only one my heart beats for, Seishirō.”

Lazily, he peers up at you. “Promise?”

“I promise. Besides,” you add, snuggling deeper into the collar of his jacket, “your jacket’s way warmer, anyway.”

That could be attributed to the fact that he has practically become your personal heater by sprawling his body over yours on the couch. Nevertheless, the envious fangs surrounding Nagi’s heart slacken, and with your fingers brushing through his hair once again, he can’t help himself from murmuring into your skin, sounding more relieved than he has ever sounded, “Good.”

[allaboutforexworld]

10 Forex Strategies for Scalping

Scalping is a popular trading strategy in the forex market, characterized by short-term trades aimed at capturing small price movements. This strategy requires quick decision-making, discipline, and a keen understanding of the market. In this article, we’ll explore 10 effective forex strategies for scalping that can help traders maximize their profits while minimizing risk. 1. Moving Average…

[fanaticsnail]

Hi, I was wondering if I could ask Crocodile for kissing booth, please? He's the Best Croco-Daddy!! LOVE HIM!!! He was my first crush aside from King and Ace, and I can't wait for him in the Live ACTION!!!!

The Kissing Booth - Sir Crocodile for Cartoonykat

Word Count: 700+

Notes: I am so excited to see where they're gonna go with him in the live action too! He's so mean, ferocious and terrifying, but look at how kind he is towards animals (One piece comic issue 860). Come and get some possessive Croco-kisses, Cartoonykat!

The thud of expensive leather hitting the gravel road with each heavy, crunching footfall had your ears stand alert to attention. A soft clink of cool metal meeting your glass jar at your side prompted your brows to draw focussed and lips to purse in focus at the person in front of you.

“Tsk, what’s this?” you heard a disapproving and unimpressed voice call to the side of you, “2,000 Berry for a kiss? That hardly seems a reasonable price for such a feat.” You furrow your brows in a deep frown at the presumed criticism at the notion of an exchange of affection for Berry. 

“If you don’t like the idea of donating Berry to charity,” your pout was heard in each of your articulated words, “Kindly move along and make way for someone who does.” A soft rumbled chuckle reverberates in the chasms of your guests chest as a puff of sour smoke clouds your lungs. You cough and wince at the cruel intrusion in your breath, but attempt to brave your face.

“On the contrary,” the stranger uttered, placing a handful of papers and coins within the jar, “I would deem your lips of far greater value than such a meager amount.” The sizzle of smoke dimming rose in your ears, your blindfold truly inhibiting your ability to know the expression on the face of your new guest. 

“Oh?” you ask him, folding your arms and crossing your legs as you recline against the barstool, “And what value would you place on my lips, sir- oh!” You squeak as you feel him cage you beneath him, his overpowering aura dominating you at your booth. 

“Let’s find out, shall we?” he whispered against your lips, immediately surging forward and capturing your breath with a bruising and intense kiss. 

Gripping the base of your stool for support, you feel something metal circle the back of your neck and draw your face up to meet him. His right hand reached down to the stool, clasping around your hand and gently squeezing your digits in a bid to have you release your chair and draw your hand up within his.

He raises your hand, placing your palm flat on his chest above his heart, while he gently brushes his nose with yours. Angling his face, he gently coaxes more intensity from you with each intentional and possessive motion. 

Your hand gently caresses his chest, feeling the textures and materials of silks, satins and embroidery embellishing his broad stature. He hums into your lips, the gentle touch against his body contrasting the ravaging he was pressing into your lips. 

He releases your lips from his intense oscillation, pressing one final ounce of contradicting sweetness in a soft kiss before pulling away entirely. Your lips remain parted and partially bruised, breath hitching and panting to come down from such an amassment of passion so overwhelmingly hastily placed against you. 

“Hm, what would be an appropriate fee to pay for such overwhelming sweetness?” he uttered against you, a chuckle depicted in his tone. You felt the metal object gently scrape your skin as he withdrew it from circling your neck. 

“While I would say you’re priceless,” he snickered gently, his hand reaching up and pinching your chin, “I would never dream of stooping so low to relay such humor as a bid to flatter you.” You heard a few more leaves fall into the jar. “Especially since you are worth much more than pretty words and a handful of Berry.” 

The figure retreated, leaving you sitting stunned beneath your blindfold and processing what just occurred between you and them: You took his initial words as an insult, depicting your disdain by insulting him, prompting him to flatter you with pretty words before and after claiming your lips with his. 

Your perplexion would remain with you for the remainder of the day, only growing more intense when you realized just how much Berry was in the jar at the end of the night. The hulking figure of Sir Crocodile would not leave his generosity and gratuity left unclaimed, and would return to you as your shift finishes at the end of the night to claim more kisses from you - if that was truly what you desired from him.

[pfhwrittes]

inspired by my ongoing migraine i offer you these thoughts re members of the 141 looking after their partner who suffers with migraines.

unedited and entirely self-indulgent. no smut, just fluff.

tags/warnings: discussions of migraine symptoms (pain, nausea, heightened sensitivity to smells), non-graphic mentions of vomiting, hurt/comfort, fluff, gender!neutral reader.

pairings: john price x reader, simon riley x reader, kyle garrick x reader, john mactavish x reader

kyle makes sure that the curtains are drawn as much as possible in the bedroom and turns the desk fan on so a gentle breeze oscillates over your sweaty, naked back as you hide your face in the pillow. he moves as quietly as possible as he leaves painkillers and an electrolyte drink on the nightstand. when you flop a hand weakly in his direction with a pitiful groan he presses kisses to your clammy palm and whispers as gently as he can that he'll come back later to check on you. before he leaves he makes sure that your phone is switched off so you aren't disturbed by any vibrations of incoming messages, calls or social media notifications. later, when you're feeling a little better and you can manage to call for him, he'll let you bury your face in his chest and doze lightly to the sounds of your heavy breathing.

john grabs your "migraine kit" and sets everything up for you. he fills a hot water bottle and wraps it in a thin tea towel to pop on your feet, he activates a cold pack and places it on your forehead gently, he lets you wrap one of his super soft t-shirts around your head as a makeshift blindfold and folds it up as gently as possible so your mouth and nose are uncovered. he's learned by now that he can't kiss you until you're feeling much better because the bristles of his facial hair make you whimper in pain but he still rubs a gentle hand over your side.

simon empties out the fridge because he knows the smell of leftovers makes you feel nauseous, even from the bedroom. he makes sure to shower with your unscented body wash and pulls on a clean t-shirt and boxers before joining you in the bed. simon lets you rest his heavy forearm over your eyes knowing that you need the weight and warm of his arm to help alleviate some of the pain. he'll stay as still as possible even as his shoulder starts to ache just a little bit just for you.

johnny will sit with you on the floor of the bathroom after you've thrown up. he'll guide a glass of cool water to your mouth so you can take tiny sips to settle your stomach. johnny will massage your shoulders and neck ever so gently to try to loosen the overly tight muscles just to offer you some relief and press kisses to your sweaty hair. when you slur out something about feeling sticky and gross johnny will pass a damp wash cloth over your neck and arms without complaint before leading you back to the bedroom, where you'll bury yourself under a pile of blankets.

[alnilaem]

i think Price takes up golfing. i think he comes home for R&R and is honestly, quite jaded of oscillating between fishing and hunting during his time off. he signs up at the country club near him and starts golfing every early Sunday morning. he smokes his cigars on the green, and squeezes his thick hands into a pair of white gripping gloves. he turns his nose up at the other golfers though, prissy sons of bitches they are, and tries his hardest to be polite when men start asking how he keeps his hair like that or when women start asking about a wife.

Price is close to terminating his membership, until he sees you.

cute and pretty and plated in a soft cotton skirt, a tight sleeveless shirt. he knows you’re different than the others, because you’re not spoiled or entitled. your job is to retrieve wayward golf balls and bring them back into the building.

it unsettles him a little bit, seeing a young thing like you running back and forth as other golfers purposefully hit their balls extra far, just so you’ll scuttle after it with your skirt flapping behind you.

Price decides to stay…for a little while longer :) just to make sure you fall into the big, protecting hands you deserve. namely, his.

[circlebuttons]

“We Buy Gold”- Barry x fem!Reader

: after breaking off your engagement you need a fresh start, but most importantly to get rid of the ring, luckily for you the owner of the nearest pawn shop is easy on the eyes.

The bells on the door of Barry's pawn shop softly ring as you cautiously pull open the door. There was nobody in, but the open sign was on, and there was a half drunken drink and a fan oscillating near the register. You contemplate ringing the bell on the counter before the small collection of vinyls near it catch your attention, specifically the deep red jazz one. Your ex fiancé hated jazz, you missed the feeling of playing it out loud, making you realize you missed out a lot in the past years. You look below the register and there's stunning pieces of jewelry and you can't help but imagine the stories behind each piece and how it got there. You looked down at the jewelry in the display case, lost in thought until a deep voice clears behind you, "Can I help ya sweetheart?"

You turn around with a faint look of surprise on your face, slightly startled by the sudden appearance of who you assume works here. He stands pretty broad and tall, intimidating dark features with longer brown hair that curls into contradictory loose and soft curls. "Uh yes, please" you ask quietly as he rounds the counter, facing you. "I saw the sign" you tell him, gesturing to the gold for cash sign hanging in the window, "And I was wondering if you'd take this" you place your engagement ring on the counter, feeling hot under his heavy gaze.

He stares at you some more with a slightly raised eyebrow before looking down at the ring, and it dawns on you that your eyes are probably still tinted pink with damp lashes, being a dead giveaway that you had been crying not too long ago.

"You alright?" he asks glancing up at you again quickly before turning to rummage under the counter.

"I will be" you perk up, flashing him a tight lipped smile.

He nods as a response before holding up a tiny bottle, "You mind? It's a acid test, make sure it's real"

You shake your head, "No, go ahead" watching as he tests the jewelry. Nothing happens, but you almost wish the ring dissolved completely. It's probably cursed with the energy of your broken engagement and shouldn't be pawned off to some other poor soul.

He wipes it clean before speaking up. "Nice ring" he compliments, glancing up at you again, asking "You pawning it for the same reason you crying?" he lets the question sit in the air for a split second before following it up, "Just curious"

You look at him and his eyes are a bold brown that almost force you to tell this stranger the truth and nothing but it.

"Different reasons same shitty guy", you speak softer than before.

He shakes his head and sucks his teeth,"you're too pretty to cry" he mutters softly. "I'm sorry though, seems rough"

Your eyes flick back up to him at the comment but he's looking down at the ring, before you can let his words sink in.

"It's okay, he was liar. i'm happy to be done" you tell him with a pitiful smile, before chewing on your lip to stop yourself from tearing up.

"I know how to make you feel happier, I can give ya this for it." he says sliding a piece of paper over to you with a number sloppily written on it.

You read the number on the paper. you didn't know what to expect as a good price, but you didn't really care either, so you just nod "Yeah, whatever you want."

He unlocks the register and begins to count out what he owes you, "I'll throw in the vinyl too" he says casually, eyes focused on the bills to keep count.

His offer catches you by surprise, wondering how long had he'd been standing there to even know you were looking at the vinyls. He briefly looks up at you, waiting for a response. "I couldn't" is all you say confused and curious if you look so pitiful that you need handouts.

"We're in the cut princess, no one's listening to Larry Lovestein, just take it." he says pulling the vinyl out of the rack and sliding it over to you as he scoffs out a laugh, tapping on the register's screen in front of him.

"Then how do you know it?" you ask him, a smirk growing on your face, realizing he had named the vinyl without fully seeing it.

"Lucky guess" he mutters, before holding out your cash and receipt. "Happy?" he asks pushing his eyebrow up at you.

"Happy" you smile, taking everything from his hands that ghost over yours until the tips of his fingers lightly brush against yours, making him pause. "How rude of me, didn't even introduce myself. Barry, I own the shop." He lifts up a now empty hand towards you flashing a charming smile. It's then you realize suddenly how hot the guy behind the counter is and how you're mesmerized by his gold tooth that he flashes proudly as he smiles at you. You allow him to keep your hand in his, introducing yourself as well.

"It's nice meeting you, beautiful. should come by again if you need anything else you can't get off figure eight. I'll take care of ya" he lets go of your hand but leans in on the counter. His eye contact is unwavering as he moves closer to you. His eyes are dark and heavy, but when you look away and look down slightly, staring at his arms is almost even worse with the way they sit partially flexed on the counter. You feel no better than a man as you quickly flick your eyes back up to his. "Thanks, but you'll get tired of seeing me. I actually just moved down here, might need more vinyls for my place." you watch as his face contorts curiously. You already know what he's thinking, you've heard it from almost everyone who knew about your move after breaking off the engagement. You're not the most traditional resident on the cut, but you didn't care, you needed a new start.

"Well in that case since you're already over here" he smirks moving impossibly closer, "You know, I know a thing or two about putting up furniture."

"uh huh" you agree, smiling and amused by his offering.

"Yeah, yeah, yeah, just about anything really. We should exchange numbers if you need a handyman, someone to cut your grass, or if you wanna go on a date?" You watch as he waits for a response and instead you reach over to grab the pen and paper he used earlier to write your number down instead. "I definitely need my grass cut soon" you tell him returning his smirk.

He turns the paper back towards himself and pretends to read it carefully, "Then i'll make sure to text you when i get off, so you can schedule landscaping, yeah?"

"yeah" you agree, nodding your head and matching his wide smile.

[zaronxyz]

Scylla In Prose

Odysseus' ship sails slowly towards a large rock cove that stretches out of the water. It'd be a mountain, but the hole at the front signals that it's hollow. There's no life on it - just jagged rocks and stalagmites to serve as the hair of the lair. The inside is pitch-black, with the full moon above doing little to aid in the crews' sight.

Odysseus stands on the side of the ship with his hands on the rail looking out at the water. His silence does not stop the rowing of his crew as they inch closer to the cavern. The old boards of the ship rub against his war-torn hands, strongly reminding him of their journey thus far. Odysseus knows what lies in this lair, and the same thought runs through his mind over and over, "This is our only way home."

"Deep down..."

Eventually, the ship slows into the cave as Odysseus stands at the edge of the ship. Eurylochus' footsteps are heard behind Odysseus, but he doesn't turn his head to look. He feels a hand on his shoulder, urging him to turn his head, but he doesn't. After a short moment, Eurylochus frowns. "You're quiet today," Eurylochus states with a hint of concern in his voice.

"Deep down..."

Odysseus ignores Eurylochus for a moment. He speaks, his voice monotone, "Not much to say." There's a lot to say, in fact, but Odysseus can't - or frankly shouldn't - get the words out. A war in his head about the justification of his actions is oscillating between cowardice and strategy.

"Deep down... you hide a reason for shame..."

Eurylochus' frown deepens. He steps back, holding his hands up in a placating gesture of which he knows Odysseus can't see before letting them fall to his side. He sighs and runs his hand through his hair slowly, the salt that is sticking to his hair now sticking to his hand. "I've got a secret I can no Ionger keep," Eurylochus hesitates, his eyes darting up to Odysseus for a brief moment, "I opened the wind bag when you were asleep..."

"Leaving them feeling betrayed... breaking the bonds that you've made..."

Odysseus' eyes widen, his eyes shaking in place as he looks out at the inky blackness of the lair. His pupil goes red as he snaps his gaze back towards Eurylochus, his mouth pursed in a fine line. Before he can say anything, his eyes lose their dangerous glint, and he returns his gaze to the ocean. He can't snap. Not now.

Eurylochus' eyes sag when Odysseus stays quiet. He reaches out his hand towards him but stops mid-air. "I'm so sorry," Eurylochus pleads. When Odysseus says nothing, he shuffles back and lets his hand fall to his side yet again.

"There is no price we won't pay... we both know what it takes to survive..."

Odysseus stays silent, the dark of the cave enveloping the ship further. Eurylochus pleads one more time, his hand dropping to his side. "Please forgive me." When Odysseus stays silent, he turns around and begins walking back to the deck. "Full speed ahead!" Eurylochus shouts, his command reaching the crew's ears as they follow his orders.

"Deep down... we only care for ourselves..."

When Eurylochus is just about to leave, Odysseus' eyes snap back to him without turning his head. He speaks immediately, the red dot in his eye perfectly trained on Eurylochus back. "Eurylochus, light up six torches," his voice is firm, leaving no room for question.

"Deep down... we're lonely demons from hell..."

Eurylochus clenches his hands into fists at his sides but quickly nods and heads to the deck. As he does, his teeth grit together. Near the mast, there's a stand with twelve torches on it. Eurylochus grabs six and heads towards the cressets. He gestures for five of the crew standing on the deck to come closer over his shoulder as he lights the first torch.

The five crew members come up and stand behind Eurylochus in a line. The one at the front, named Varan, speaks up curiously. "Eurylochus? What's with the torches?" Eurylochus stays silent before handing a now lit torch behind him to Varan. "Captains orders." Without a word, Varan nods and grabs the torch from his hand and shuffles off. The rest of the crew behind him didn't ask any further questions to Eurylochus relief.

Just as he's done, something large swims under the boat. The thing must be at least double the size of the boat because the ripple causes the boat to jostle. Eurylochus' eyes widen, and he runs up the stairs to Odysseus. He sees him still standing at the edge, and he jogs to him with one of the lit torches in his left hand. "Captain! Something approaches."

The crew stops rowing at the sides as Odysseus stares blankly at the water off the side of the boat. Eurylochus runs to the front, his free hand gripping the edge. A woman's head rises from the water, her body hidden beneath the surface of the water. Her eyes are blank, her pupils are dilated, and her messy black hair runs off the back of her head into the water. Her eyes don't move even a centimeter, nor does her head. Suddenly, a low and raspy voice echoes from it, the mouth opening once for the sound to come out like a cd player. "Hello."

Slowly, the head rises from the water. The neck of the head extends and extends as the body rises, the sound of cracking bones ripping through the air. The hair is short-lived, leading straight to the neck bone of the creature known only as Scylla. The torso of the creature is no less terrifying than the he rest, as it's pale, malnourished skin reveals its whole ribcage. The torso itself is massive, far bigger than the boat itself. The start of two serpent's originating from the back reveal themselves as the creature rises. More and more eel like serpents extend from the rest of the creature's body as it rises, their yellow eyes, and blood-stained teeth on full display. By the time the creature is done rising, its limbless body is fully risen out out of the water with the lower body where the legs should be hidden, if it even has a lower body. The head that used to be the woman's face is now revealed to be the hair of another eel head. Six eels total.

Eurylochus takes a step back, his torch nearly falling out of his hand. His eyes are wide with fear as he states up at Scylla. He stands frozen in place before the creature he wasn't warned of. As the eels splay out near the front of the ship, all their eyes staring intently on each person who holds a torch, Odysseus continues to stare blankly at the water in front of him. After a split second, without turning his head, Odysseus yells out, "Row for your lives!"

The crew listens, and so does Scylla. Scylla's main head curls into a smile, another eel darting towards one of the torchbearers. "Drown in your sorrow and fears!" Scylla's eel snatches one of the torchbearers in its mouth, his blood splattering across the deck of the ship as the eel retreats with its new meal.

The crew's screams fill the air as Odysseus doesn't move, his eyes still trained on the water below him. His crew runs around, but not before another eel grabs Varan. "Choke on your blood and your tears!" Scylla taunts, the torch dropping from Varan's hand onto the deck.

Eurylochus runs backward, the torch still in his hand. He pulls the greatsword off his back but knows it will be useless. His head whips back from Scylla only to see another torchbearer get eaten. His eyes widen. He immediately drops the torch and steps back, now knowing why Odysseus told him to light six. He was sacrificing them. "Die in the blood where you bathe! Give up your honor and faith!" Scylla barks out, her eyes trained on Eurylochus.

Once Eurylochus drops his torch, another crew member runs forward and picks it up before spinning their head towards Scylla. Eurylochus steps forward, his hand outstretched to the crew member. "Drop the torch!" Just as he gets the sentence out, Scylla hits the crew member into the air with an eel head before snatching the crew member out of the air and eating them. "Bleed 'til you've run out of years!"

As one of Scylla's eel heads grabs a fifth crew member, the main one slithers out in front of Odysseus to stare into his eyes. "We both do what it takes to survive." Scylla slithers away, leaving Odysseus still frozen on the deck of the ship. The main head circles the mast before diving for another crew member and snatching them in her jaw just as the ship exits the cave.

The sun shines brightly above the blood, covering the deck of the ship. Eurylochus' eyes are wide, and his chest is heaving. The crew on row duty shared his composure. Odysseus, however, does not.

Second published prose piece! I'm still working on a few others, but I've found that this one is finished. There's still places for improvement (especially considering how good Love In Paradise is turning out... ❤️), but I can't find anything I want to improve on.