#scalping trader

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Analyzing the Week Ahead in Forex Trading Methods

US Economic Data and Global Announcements

Significant developments are expected this week, starting with the US Consumer Confidence release on Tuesday, followed by major economic data on Wednesday, including Prelim GDP and the Core PCE Price Index m/m. These figures will further shape expectations for a December rate cut. Additionally, unemployment claims are expected on the same day.

Alongside the US data, the New Zealand (Kiwi) official cash rate and the RBNZ monetary policy statement will be announced. Markets anticipate a 50-basis-point rate cut, likely pricing in Kiwi weakness leading up to Tuesday's announcement. A substantial drop in the Kiwi is expected if the announcement aligns with this forecast. Australia’s CPI data is also scheduled for release on this day.

On Thursday, the FOMC meeting will take place in the US. In Europe, CPI data will be released to provide additional clarity on rate expectations. Meanwhile, RBA Governor Lowe is set to deliver remarks, which could influence sentiment in the Australian market.

To end the week, Canadian GDP data will be released on Friday.

Precious Metals and Geopolitical Tensions

Gold prices are gradually rising as major escalations in the Russia-Ukraine conflict push investors to seek safe-haven assets. However, the simultaneous strength of the dollar has moderated gold's gains despite geopolitical tensions.

Oil prices remain under scrutiny as questions linger over global supply. China’s slowing demand and economic pressures from Trump’s tariff policies further cloud the outlook. Without a significant increase in US domestic production, oil prices are unlikely to drop below $66. Additionally, ongoing tensions in the Middle East and the threat of attacks on oil facilities are expected to support higher prices.

Market Analysis

GOLD

Gold prices are expected to remain bullish as geopolitical risks escalate. Although doubts surrounding incoming Federal Reserve rate cuts could support bearish sentiment, the high-risk environment continues to bolster bullish momentum for gold.

The MACD shows a bullish move, while the RSI trends upward. Price action aligns with these indicators, confirming increased bullish continuation in the chart.

SILVER

Silver prices are also climbing, distancing themselves from the range bottom at 30.668. Both the MACD and RSI indicate bullish momentum, aligning with price action that suggests continuation in this upward trend.

DXY

The dollar maintains strong momentum, although it failed to breach the 107.834 level in last week's trading. The MACD points upward with robust momentum, while the RSI indicates bearish divergence, suggesting a potential pullback. Recent price action indicates that the dollar is likely to resume its upward movement, demonstrating resilience and strength.

GBPUSD

The pound remains on a bearish trajectory, as previously forecasted. Although the RSI shows buying momentum, divergence suggests the bearish trend will persist. The MACD supports this outlook with strong bearish momentum. Fundamentals, including heightened geopolitical risks tied to the Russia-Ukraine conflict, also weigh heavily on the pound.

AUDUSD

The Australian dollar shows increased selling momentum amid geopolitical tensions, which have reduced its appeal. Divergence in the RSI aligns with price action, suggesting bearish continuation. While the MACD prints lighter histograms indicative of a potential short-term pullback, a sharp drop with strong volume could invalidate this and reinforce the bearish trend.

NZDUSD

The Kiwi shows heightened chances of continued declines, with price action breaking below previous swing lows. While the RSI reflects bullish movement, divergence signals a potential sell-off. The MACD recently crossed upward but suggests diminishing bullish momentum, further supporting a bearish outlook.

EURUSD

The Euro has experienced heavy losses due to strong US data, which delays expectations for a December rate cut. The Euro is also weighed down by anticipated tariffs and its vulnerability to the ongoing Ukraine conflict. Investor confidence in Europe remains low, dragging the currency downward. While the RSI hints at a short-term pullback, the MACD and price action indicate strong bearish momentum.

USDJPY

The Yen is consolidating with increased chances of an upward move after failing to break below previous swing lows. The MACD and RSI suggest bullish continuation, but divergence in the RSI indicates a potential downward move. Market expectations of a BOJ rate hike are bolstering the Yen, though inflationary pressures from the US dollar could temper these gains. BOJ intervention remains a significant factor, warranting caution in this market.

USDCHF

The Franc continues its bullish momentum after failing to break below previous swing lows. While the MACD and RSI support continued upward movement, divergence in the RSI hints at a potential pullback. Price action still leans toward a bullish continuation.

USDCAD

The Canadian dollar shows strength as price action suggests a continuation of the bearish trend. However, a head-and-shoulders pattern could lead to a bullish reversal. While the RSI favors bearish continuation, the MACD is nearing a crossover into sell territory. Market sentiment is shaped by delayed rate cut expectations, leaving traders waiting for further confirmation of the CAD's direction.

[telugutraderaj]

A Special Note to My Subscribers! | @TeluguTraderAJ

Hello, everyone! I’ve made a special video just for you, my incredible subscribers. In this heartfelt message, I share insights, updates, and my gratitude for all of your support on this trading journey. Whether you’re here for option buying, option selling, Bank Nifty, or Nifty strategies, this video is dedicated to you!

What’s Inside:

A thank you to each of you for being part of Telugu Trader AJ.

Some exciting updates and future plans for our trading community.

Tips and encouragement to keep moving forward in your trading journey.

👉 Watch it here: Note to My Subscribers @TeluguTraderAJ

Thank you for being part of this family. Together, we’re building a strong community of smart traders. Stay tuned for more valuable content and let’s grow together!

#OptionBuying #TeluguTrader #OptionSelling #BankNifty #Nifty #TeluguTraderAJ

[tradingtips]

Forex scalping strategies

Discover effective Forex scalping strategies designed to maximize profits through quick trades in high-volume markets. Our guide on Axe Trader covers essential techniques, tips, and risk management tactics to help you make informed, fast-paced trading decisions. More: https://www.axetrader.com/forex-scalping-strategies

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[amgracy]

Forex trading strategies

Discover effective Forex trading strategies with Axe Trader to boost your success in the currency markets. Learn how to trade using proven methods like scalping, day trading, swing trading, and more at: https://www.axetrader.com/forex-trading-strategies

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[stockexperttrading]

2023 and Beyond: Exploring the 6 Latest Trends in Forex Trading Strategies

Forex trading is a dynamic world where traders strategize to navigate the global currency exchange market. This blog explores the importance of Forex trading strategies, the latest trends, and key factors for success. Forex trading strategies are essential for risk management, objective decision-making, consistency, and profit maximization. The latest trends include trend-following, breakout, retracement, support and resistance, news trading, and algorithmic strategies. Choosing the right strategy involves considering risk tolerance, time horizon, market conditions, analysis methods, knowledge, and risk-reward ratios. Traders can backtest and optimize their strategies with historical data and simulation. The blog also emphasizes the risks in Forex trading, such as market volatility and leverage, and provides risk management tips, like using stop-loss orders and diversification. Funded Traders Global is highlighted as a valuable resource for traders seeking knowledge, skills, and support. In conclusion, Forex trading is a strategic journey, and a strong support system is crucial for success in this vast world of currency exchange. Funded Traders Global offers the necessary tools and community to empower traders on their trading adventure.

[revasserium]

to win and to lose

kenma, tsukki, hinata, kageyama; 3,200 words; fluff, lapslock, no "y/n", kissing, slightly!suggestive content, but mostly just tooth-rotting fluff, domestic bliss, post!timeskip characters, pro-streamer!kenma, olympics athlete!hinata, pouty!tsukki, and needy!kageyama

summary: you win some, you lose some, right?

a/n: truly just a few drabbles that came to my mind when i was sitting in a bath the other day; so pls enjoy some hq-flavored domesticity

kenma

“— alright chat, that’s it for today — i’ve got uh —” kenma glances over at the top of his collection of monitors at where you’re standing, holding two beers, a sly grin twisting the corner of your mouth. even in the strange blue light of his monitors, you can see his cheeks darken.

“— some stuff to do. see ya!” he ends the stream just as you round the massive table to set a beer down in front of him. he chuckles and reaches out to pull you into his lap, hooking his chin over your shoulder with a sigh.

“hey there, mr. ceo.” you smirk, twisting round to run your fingers through his hair, tugging out the loosening hair tie and cocking your head. kenma huffs, crinkling his nose, shaking his head as you continue to comb through his hair with your fingers.

“i hate it when you call me that.”

“mm, then… what would you prefer? mr… streamer boy? mr. stock trader? oh — i’ve got it! mr. simp-man.”

kenma scoffs, jerking forward so that you’re trapped against the hard edge of his gaming desk, his arms locking you to him. he’s grown since high school, but even so, his lithe build betrays the strength still hidden within his limbs from the endless hours of training, of playing.

“there’s no winning against you, is there?” he asks, his voice muffled by your skin, and you bite back a groan at the way he’s trailing his lips along the hard ridge of your collarbones. he peers up at you, a sharp, feline glint to his eyes, a hand reaching out to set your half-drunk beer on his table before hoisting you up with one arm. you squeak, the gesture taking you by surprise even as he carries you to the futon set up in strategically in the corner of the game room, put there for the nights when you’d lie there and watch him stream, when you’d close your eyes and let the rgb lights flicker across the backs of your eyelids like the northern lights, like so many midnight rainbows.

“well… seeing as you’re winning in so many other aspects in life,” you say, your voice nothing more than a sigh as he lays you down, fingers already tugging at the thin straps of your dress, “a little losing here and there might do you good, hm?”

“mm…” kenma hums, contemplative, even as he leans back and runs an appraising eye down the length of your body, “i mean… i did let kuroo talk me into joining the volleyball club back in highschool so… i guess you can say… in my own way… i’m sort of a sucker for punishment.”

tsukki.

“ah��� that looked like a brutal practice,” you say, peering around the bathroom door. the sound of water splattering down skin echoes wetly through the enclosed space.

“aren’t they all?” tsukishima drawls, setting down the large wooden bath ladle to squint at you through the hazy mist. his glasses lie fogged and forgotten, set to the side.

you smile, slipping into the room with a fresh towel.

“i’ve got miso soup being warmed on the stove and an icepack in the freezer. take your time though — o-oh!”

a pair of arms reaches out to pull you down, and you barely catch yourself on the edge of the large wooden bath.

“t-tsukki! what —”

“it was a brutal practice.”

you barely hear the smirk in his voice as he sighs and props his chin on your thigh, the water from the bath staining you thin dress in seconds. you fight the urge the roll your eyes, reaching down to run your fingers through his damp hair, absently massaging at his scalp.

its rare to see him like this — rarer, even, to see him so openly vulnerable, even if there’s still the barest hint of a tease lurking beneath the tired rhythm of his voice, his breathing. like this, his long lashes are daggered into points by the steam, his normally pale skin made even more so by the bright bathroom lights.

through the water, you can see the new bruises blossoming along his thin legs, the old ones barely fading. thoughtlessly, you lean in and dip your hand in the water to trace a finger along one particularly large one at his right knee.

“what happened?” you ask, though you basically already know the answer — practice for a v2 league team happened. still, tsukishima glances down at the bruise with an oddly disembodied gaze and shrugs.

“dunno. dove to save a ball a few times.”

you laugh, tilting your head to one side as he leans back to press his cheek to your now damp thigh.

“wow, in practice? other team must’ve really pissed you off.”

at this, tsukishima crinkles his nose and scoffs. you hike an expectant eyebrow and wait.

“the jackals were over for a practice match.” his voice is clipped, but you feel your own laughter bubbling up in seconds. of course.

you bite back a giggle, “and… did you guys win?”

he glares up at you, eyes narrowed, “they’re a division one team. what do you think?”

“hm… but i thought hinata’s been off with a rolled ankle so…”

again, he scoffs, “that team’s plenty of other players who are just as annoying.”

you clamp down on your bottom lip, “wow. high praise.”

he whacks at the surface of the bath, splattering your dress even as you break into a bright peal of laughter. you reach down to flick him with a bit of water as well but he catches you wrist in his, fingers wrapping around your arm, the warm bath water slicking down your skin in thin rivulets, dripping off your elbow. you gasp, heart suddenly thrumming behind your eardrums.

the lopsided, slightly sadistic smile that slits his lips is stomach-twistingly familiar.

“tsukki… there’s miso soup —”

“mm. think i want something else for dinner instead.”

the low murmur of words is the only warning you get before you’re pulled bodily into the warm bath, the water soaking your dress, making the material cling to your skin in seconds. you squeak against his lips, rough and insistent and just a little pleading. you know it’s futile to struggle, so you let him kiss you, his teeth digging into your bottom lip as you groan, your fingers finally finding purchase along the slick skin of his shoulder.

“you — you’ve ruined my — my favorite dress…”

“hn.”

tsukishima doesn’t look at all bothered by your admonishment, shrugging, “it’ll dry.”

water sloshes over the side of the bathtub, now dangerously full with the both of you soaking in it’s steaming depths.

“was it really that bad?” you ask, affecting your voice into a soft coo, trailing wet fingers over the soft of his cheeks.

“if i say yes,” he asks, peering down at you as a lepidopterist might study a new specimen of rare, and newly captured butterfly, “would you try to make me feel better?”

you lick your lips, feeling your mouth go dry, despite being literally submerged in water.

“depends,” you say, “on if you’ll let me go turn off the stove first — wouldn’t want the miso soup to burn.”

tsukishima rolls his eyes, fingers tightening around your wrists, pulling you closer. there’s a dangerous light flickering behind his eyes; a dull ache pulses at the base of your stomach, singeing up your spine as you tip forward for another long kiss.

“thought i said already… i don’t think i really want miso soup for dinner anymore.”

hinata.

there’s a certain magic in watching him play — the way he treats every win like his first, or his last. the way the world seems brighter right around his edges, as if his own shimmer and shine might infect the universe if it would only let him.

he is incandescent with joy after the olympic qualifier games — scoring a ticket is no mean feat, and it’s not every day that you see bokuto cry.

“congrats, shouyou!” you’re one of the first to greet him after the press stint (and a shower), but you can still see the brilliant, glazed look to his eyes that tells you he’s still riding his high. his smile is wide enough to split the sky as he spots you, jogging over to hoist you up into his arms, spinning you round with almost comical ease.

“haha — thanks!”

he leans up for a kiss, one that’s sweet as it is heady. when you pull apart, you are still weightless, and his smile shines like a smile on pause — it makes you want to unpause it, and watch it unfurl.

you trace the pads of your thumbs along the tiny freckles dotting his cheekbones — souvenirs from his time in brazil.

“so! are you gonna come watch us?” he asks, making to walk down the decidedly not deserted hallway with you still in his arms. you blush at the thought, giving his shoulders a slight squeeze.

“shouyou… you can put me down now — and of course i’ll come! it’s not everyday that your boyfriend makes it to the olympics.”

several people chuckle as they watch him parade passed, you still firmly held aloft, your elbows propped on his shoulders to give you some semblance of balance. your cheeks burn as hinata hums, waving at a fellow teammate, reaching out for a fist bump.

“shou…” you fight the urge to bury your face in his shoulder as he finally rounds a corner into a much more private hallway. he grins, completely unabashed, as he pushes through an unmarked door to a what seems to be an empty locker room. it’s sparse, but well-lit and quiet.

“hm?”

he sets you down on one of the benches and drops a quick kiss onto your shoulder.

“i could’ve walked…”

“didn’t feel like putting you down,” he says, his voice dropping in register and taking on that darker, baser veneer — you hear the frayed edges, the sandstone texture, a tell-tale sign of a deep-seated hunger. a very specific brand of shouyou-flavored want.

“n-ngh —” you make a soft noise as he dips down to nuzzle into the dip of your collarbone, a tiny groan festering up the back of his throat as he sighs.

“been thinking about this…” his fingers dance up your sides, light enough to tease, but solid enough to remind you of just how close you both are to a ruthless press and the oogling public.

“sh-shou let’s wait —”

hinata whines, shaking his head, his hair tickling at the skin of your neck, “don’t wanna.”

and you sigh, weighing the option of pushing back or giving in. each has dangers and merits, but you know better than most that when hinata gets like this, indulgence is usually the only answer that will satisfy.

“plus… i just won a ticket to the olympics! don’t you think that deserves some kind of —” he casts around for a good enough word, pulling back with a smile that, in the right kind of slanted, locker room light, might just look like a smirk, “reward?”

you cock your head and blink up at him, letting your fingers tangle in the tufts of hair at the nape of his neck, “what? the olympics ticket wasn’t enough of a reward for you?”

at this, hinata pouts, pushing his bottom lip out far enough for you to lean forward and bite it. the movement makes him groan, his whole body tipping forward to cage you back against the row of cool, metal lockers.

“you shouldn’t do that if you don’t think you can finish the job,” he says, pulling back just far enough for the heat of his breath to fan across your spit-slick lips. you lave your tongue across them, shifting beneath him as he cocks his head to stare down at you, his eyes wide and dark and misty.

“and… what job might that be?” you ask, breathless even as he dips down again to catch your lips in his, reaching down to tug you bodily up the length of the lockers before pinning you in place. once upon a time, it was easy to forget how strong he is — but now, it’s even easier to spot the stretch and flex of muscle beneath his sun-kissed skin, feel the strength of them as he holds you still with a single hand, the other tugging down the neckline of your top.

“mm… the job —” he skims his teeth across your skin; you gasp, eliciting a small, satisfied chuckle from him, “of being an olympic athlete’s girlfriend, of course!”

kageyama.

it is never the losing, and always the aftermath, and by now, you know the shades and slivers of all his specific kinds of silences so intimately that you know without him having to say how the practice match had gone.

“hey.”

you greet him by the door with a soft, placatory kiss. he grunts, toeing off his shoes before dipping down to wrap both his arms around you and pull you close. you let out a breathy laugh as you feel his nose digging into the curve of your shoulder.

“want some dinner?” you ask, reaching up to stroke his sweat-soaked hair even though you already know the answer.

“later,” he says, making no sign of wanting to let you go. instead, when you try to pull away, he leans down and scoops you up to place you on top of the kitchen island, slotting himself between your knees, and re-burying his face in your shoulder.

“then…” you let your voice trail off, feeling the exhaustion pour off him in waves. you dig your fingers into the tense line of his shoulders and feel them tighten up before they fall slack again. for a few minutes, he contents himself with letting you massage the worst of the knots from his shoulders.

“hn.” he lifts his head only to lean forward and find your lips with his. the kiss is slow and just a bit tired — as sweet as it is thorough. in the beginning, you’d worried that dating someone like kageyama would end up being the kind of short-lived thing that all the tabloids and magazines had warned you about — that he might grow bored after a week, a month, maybe half a year. after all, someone like him, with that insatiable need for more wouldn’t be suited for the kind of so-called ‘domestic bliss’ as it’s prescribed of most long-term relationships. but he’d surprised you, in more ways than one. he’d not only not grown bored, but had seemingly become ever more… entranced.

the pair of you had grown into each other, each day steadily getting closer. until the space the two of you shared became so inextricably linked there’s no telling who’s breath was caught in each of your lungs, of who’s scent it was that lingered in the fine linen lining of all your pillows and sheets. it’s become your’s. in the most cliche way possible.

kageyama contents himself with kissing you, breaking for small breath, and then kissing you some more. one kiss falling into another, and another, and another. till you’re breathless in just way he likes, till he’s breathless, in the way that he gets sometimes during a particularly intense rally. he knows he’s sweat-sticky and probably stinks of the gym, but the way you smile up at him when he pulls away makes his whole body go soft.

“let’s take a shower before dinner,” you say, tracing a finger along the shell of his ear. he bites back a frown.

“not a bath?”

you laugh, shrugging, “we could — but the food’ll go cold.”

“we’ve got a microwave.”

you smile, a smile that inspires — no, demands — another kiss. and so he does. you make a tiny, exasperated noise but don’t make to pull away. kageyama reaches down to pick you up, settling your thighs on either side of his hips as he maneuvers the pair of you towards the bathroom.

“food’ll be there when we’re done,” he mutters, gently placing you down on the side of the bathtub and reaching over to turn on the hot water. the steam rises in thick sheets from the surface of the water, and already, kageyama can feel his limbs loosening at the thought of a nice, long soak. he catches you watching as he strips off his practice clothes.

“see something interesting?” his voice is so measured you’d never know he’s teasing, save for the tiniest hint of mischief in his eyes. you blush and look away, tugging off your own clothes in an attempt to distract yourself. the water sloshes around his ankles as he steps into the bath, and you join him a second later, curling up against his chest as he winds his arms around you, the pair of you settling against each other like nesting spoons, cut perfectly for each other’s every bend and curve. or perhaps like russian dolls, one encasing the other — wholly and completely.

“when’s practice tomorrow?” you ask, turning to watch him lean back, his eyes falling shut to the soft trickle of water over skin. you know the answer, and so does he. but he shifts and answers you anyway.

“not till noon.”

“good,” you say, turning back to rest your head on his shoulder, “we can have a proper breakfast.”

“we always have a proper breakfast.”

you laugh, absently walking your fingers up the length of his bent leg, drawing tiny circles on his exposed knee, poking out of the water like a pale island amidst the green-tinted water.

“i can grill mackerel tomorrow — i’ll have the time.”

outside, the moon is white and full with love, the sky bloated with countless shimmering stars. inside the gentle quiet of your home, kageyama leans forward to trail a kiss to the bend of your bare shoulder; you reach back to cup his cheek. when he turns your face for yet another kiss, it is sleepy and happy, long and lazy. full, weighted, soaked through with the kind of surrender only known to those who love and are in love.

“the food’ll really be cold —” you gasp, twisting away from kageyama’s growingly insistent lips, “if we keep going like this.”

he makes a slightly irked noise before caging you back against him with a deep frown, “you said so yourself — we’ve got time tomorrow. so —” he leans in to bump his nose against yours, waiting for permission. you chew on your lips for a second longer before conceding. and he’s right — isn’t that what microwaves are for?

[googleblogs123]

Adapting Forex Trading Strategies to Current Events

As global conflicts unfold, the implications for forex trading become increasingly apparent. The surge in oil prices and the subsequent impact on inflation highlight the need for traders to adapt their strategies. Understanding these dynamics is crucial for effective forex market analysis.

Geopolitical Risks and Currency Fluctuations

With the conflict between Iran and Israel escalating, the potential for increased oil prices looms large. This may lead to inflationary pressures in various economies and could influence upcoming monetary policies. As the U.S. dollar strengthens, effective risk management in forex becomes paramount to navigate the changing landscape.

Precious Metals and Their Role

GOLD

GOLD prices are currently consolidating, with traders keenly awaiting upcoming data to gauge future movements. The geopolitical environment suggests that demand for GOLD as a safe haven could increase. You can learn more about the role of GOLD in forex trading here.

SILVER

SILVER has met resistance but shows potential for upward movement. Traders employing scalping techniques in forex should remain vigilant for breakout opportunities.

Examination of Currency Pairs

DXY

The DXY has surged, reflecting positive economic conditions. This trend is expected to continue, especially in times of uncertainty. Stay updated on DXY trends here.

GBPUSD

The GBP is displaying weakness, indicating a potential selling strategy as market dynamics shift. You can track changes in GBP with forex signals.

AUDUSD

The AUD may face short-term selling pressure, but it remains a viable long-term investment. For more on how to navigate AUD fluctuations, check forex market trends.

EURUSD

The Euro is experiencing declines, with traders advised to monitor for possible trading forex signals to take advantage of this trend.

USDJPY

The Yen remains volatile, with Japanese officials closely observing market trends. Traders should be aware of potential interventions.

USDCHF and USDCAD

The Franc's weakness against the dollar presents challenges, while the CAD may benefit from rising oil prices. Traders should keep an eye on these developments as they unfold. For further insights into how commodities affect forex, explore commodity-driven forex strategies.

[cartaodecredito]

(via Melhor Estratégia de Scalping Para Day Traders) Melhor Estratégia de Scalping Para Day Traders - Eu ouvi vários de meus amigos banqueiros da cidade falarem sobre negociação em geral e escalpelamento em particular. Esses banqueiros me explicam que "não há como ganhar dinheiro no day trading" por causa do risco excessivo envolvido no empreendimento... SAIBA MAIS!

[amgracy]

Master the art of quick trades with our Scalping Trading Strategy. At Axe Trader, we provide in-depth insights and proven techniques for successful scalping in the financial markets. Learn how to make rapid, small profits by exploiting market movements with precision timing. More: https://www.axetrader.com/scalping-trading-strategy

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[stockexperttrading]

Currency Exchange Dealers: Tips for Optimal Selection

Currency exchange is a critical aspect of international travel and trading, where choosing the right dealer can significantly impact your financial transactions. The selection of a currency exchange dealer is vital due to potential risks, such as unfavorable exchange rates, high fees, and security concerns. Funded Traders Global offers valuable guidance in finding the best dealer for your currency exchange needs. They emphasize the importance of research and preparation to save money and avoid hidden surprises, trustworthy reviews, recommendations, and verifying dealer credentials. The article also provides practical tips for comparing exchange rates, understanding fees, considering convenience, and ensuring security. Funded Traders Global empowers you to make informed decisions, equipping you to navigate the world of currency exchange with learn more...

[llondonfog]

MILK & HONEY. + dazzling fic art by @suntails <3 (also available on ao3)

“It will be alright, darling boy, I promise— everything will be alright.”

There’s no response, but Lilia doesn’t mind. His son has always been the quiet, thoughtful sort. Humming faint snatches of a lullaby long forgotten, he threads a hand through the boy’s moonlit strands, apathetic to the copper rust smears left behind. The child’s bangs have grown, he notes idly, fussing with the strands that have fallen over the boy’s face. Lilia ought to cut them soon.

“There will be time for that later,” he finishes his thought out loud, bending forward to press his lips benevolently to his son’s cool forehead— a blessing, Lilia thinks privately with a smile, examining the faint crimson outline of his lips against that pale skin. Blood of the father, blood of the son; sacrament and all that.

“But for now, my dear,” he gently strokes the backs of stained claws against the side of his boy’s face, leaving a virginal blush behind on a bloodless cheek. “It is time for you to wake up.”

Silver is five years old and held at knifepoint when he first meets his father. 

There is a man holding his small arms behind his back, another grasping at his feet, while a third laughs grimly down at his rapidly watering eyes and traces the blade delicately against his temple.

“You’ve been a burden on our village for far too long, brat,” he sneers while Silver’s rabbit heart beats fast and panicked within his heaving chest. “No mother, no father, cared for out of the kindness of our hearts, and you have the nerve to go about stealing our scraps to feed the animals?”

They’re hungry too! Silver wants to cry out, if opening his mouth wouldn’t drag the blade against his hairline. And they’re his friends, when no one else would be. 

The man, unfortunately, is right.

He has no family to speak of; an abandoned babe with odd-colored eyes, silkspun hair, and a debilitating tendency to sleep without cause like the dead themselves that had everyone in the village whispering fearful tales of curses and changelings. It didn’t help that the spring of his arrival had marked the beginning of a painful famine that would relentlessly grip the decaying land, crops failing out of a barren and cracked landscape as rivers began to bleed thin and dry. Changeling or not, it hardly took much time at all for any sympathetic feeling towards the foundling child to metamorphosize into bitter resentment at an extra mouth to feed when their own fevered children were crying out for more. Was it any wonder that he had turned to the few remaining woodland creatures for comfort, saving meager portions of his already miniscule meal to share in gratitude for their simple acceptance and affection? 

The man with the knife doesn’t wait for any answering explanation, merely smacks the blade pointedly against his cheek with a cruel, hungry gleam in those dead fish eyes, and the other two holding him still trade malicious grins. 

“It’s only fair that you pay for what you stole,” the man continues, almost kind and patient in his rationale— (I didn’t steal! Silver wants to shout, mouth dry and empty with fear. I only ever gave them food from my portion!)— and he hums with a terrifying softness at the way Silver’s frightened gaze tracks the knife’s every teasing glide about his forehead and his limbs tremble in their brutish hold. “Oh, not with your life— not at first, anyways. We’re going to scalp you; I can only imagine the price your pretty hair will fetch when we tell the traders that it's woven out of pure silver. It’s a start for what you owe us all for taking care of your worthless and lazy hide for the past five years, and then—”

He pauses as if for some grand operatic effect, savoring the way the tears helplessly gather and bubble at the edge of Silver’s lashes with a wicked smile. 

“Then, we’ll kill you and plate you tonight as dinner. I think there’s enough to go around for the rest of the village, don’t you?”

Two things happen: First, Silver bursts into tears. Second, a dark shape drops from the trees above and latches onto the man’s throat, tearing it open in one fluid movement and soaking the entire scene, Silver included, in a hot spray of blood.  

The entire woodland clearing erupts into chaotic, frenzied screaming. The other two men violently shove him forward in a futile attempt to use him as a shield and escape, and he falls numbly to the ground, limbs frozen in place out of dumb shock as shadows leap effortlessly over his head. The knife that had been so sinister just moments ago lies dull and dirtied in the forest floor by the now nearly headless corpse, and in the dim reflection of its blade, Silver can make out the similar gruesome demise of his other captors. The shrieking fearful sounds are silenced just as abruptly as they began; in less than thirty seconds, the forest has returned to its quiet, sedative self, at peace with the justice that has been served. 

Who . . ?

Quiet, gentle footsteps sound from behind him, their stride unhurried and at ease as they round his quivering, prostrate frame, and something hysterically yells in his mind that it’s poor manners to not at least look his rescuer in the eyes. 

“Hello, child,” the angel (for surely that must be, he fell from the heavens, did he not?) smiles down at him through dripping fangs.

Silver stares up through blood-splattered lashes at his savior and wonders if this is what it’s like to be stricken with love. 

The vampire takes him home. 

He laughs uproariously when Silver so shyly and seriously wonders aloud if he was truly an angel, with hands as kind and gentle as the spring sun upon the muddy bruises and dried wounds from the knife split across his face. 

He laughs at a lot of things that Silver says. It’s uncannily loud and booming for such a small man, but Silver instantly decides that he likes it.

The vampire explains that he is, well, a vampire. He even lets Silver curiously brush tiny fingers over his fangs once they’ve been cleaned of blood and gristle, smiling down at him all the while without a trace of malice that he’s grown so used to seeing. 

He tells Silver that his name is Lilia, Lilia Vanrouge. It’s a difficult name, a weighty name for Silver’s tongue to pronounce, but he rolls it softly in his mouth to savor it all the same, marveling at how much it feels like royalty. 

Lilia explains to him by the light of the fire that he’s lived for a very long time, that he’s enjoyed a life rich beyond anyone’s comprehension from all of the sights he’s seen and the wonders he’s traveled. But no creature is immortal, not even vampires, as long-lived as they may be— the years are heavier now, they ache and sting at his bones as if he’d soaked them in baptismal water. And in his many travels, he had so happened to stumble upon this empty cottage tucked away and abandoned inside this quiet, peaceful forest—

(“Like me,” Silver whispers solemnly. “Is that so?” says Lilia, summer-cherry eyes brilliant against the flames.) 

—and so he had thought, what a nice place to relax and rest his weary soul, a place for him to enjoy a rare moment of serenity before the next grand adventure swept him back out to sea. 

“How silly of me at my age to think that I could anticipate the future,” Lilia brushes his hand gently through Silver’s tangled hair, the knots easily coming undone from a mere sweep of his fingertips. Silver can’t quite recall how and when he had made his way onto the vampire’s lap, only that he is leaning his head adoringly against the man’s chest, staring up at him with bated breath.

“I didn’t expect to have to rescue my newest venture!” 

There’s no need to discuss it after that: Lilia never asks him to leave, and Silver never thinks to do so. 

It’s idyllic. Lilia feeds him, clothes him, lets him play with the forest animals for as long as he wishes. They take care of the little cottage together— Silver discovers a patch of land in the back that at one point might have been a sad attempt at a garden, but under the patient toil of the two of them, burgeons into life with all manner of flowers and vegetables. Lilia teaches him how to darn his socks and how to properly use a whetstone. He tucks Silver into the small bed alongside him and paints visions of faraway worlds upon the thin wooden walls, a better storyteller than any traveling bard that had come to the village before.

When Silver calls him ‘Father’ for the first time, he doesn’t laugh. 

In return, Silver doesn’t complain when he helps Lilia mop up any traces of blood from the traveler he’s feasted upon for the night. 

His father is not a monster, this Silver knows as truly as the sun travels through the sky. The weary men and women who wander across their little abode are treated with nothing but kindness— a warm seat by the fire, a fresh meal to eat, and a soft place to rest their heads. All that his father asks of them is to spare what little coin and wares that they are able to part with, a strange gleam in his eyes and a sincere smile on his face.

Without fail, the strangers comply. They always do.

And in the morning, if they’re a little more woozy than when they laid down to sleep, Silver reassures them that the small satchel of strong-smelling herbs and wrapped provisions for the road will do them a world of good. Together, father and son stand in the doorway of their humble home, hands raised in gestures of well wishes and farewell, as good hosts ought to do. Their visitors stumble down the chrysanthemum and lycoris-lined pathway back to the welcoming arms of the forest, and Silver flexes his toes in his new shoes while his father indulgently twirls his latest trinket around his fingertips, admiring the glint of it in the pale sunlight. 

(“Not all vampires are as kind as I am, child,” his father explains to him as he tucks a sheathed blade into the drawer of their nightstand, under the pressed and faded flowers that Silver had brought for him over time. “There are those who would see longevity as the means to power instead of the humbling blessing that it truly is. There are those who have let their years sour their minds like fermented wine, who have only steeped in cruelty instead of basking in the innocence that still exists in this world. And I would not have you defenseless inside our own home.”

Silver looks at the dull sheen of the knife and thinks back to the cold sting of one flayed against his cheek, and he wonders if those who lurk in the shadows of the night are truly the ones he ought to fear.)  

The years pass in this necessary fashion, seasons tumbling and turning over themselves with a prevailing peace that Silver had once believed could only exist in storybooks. He outgrows his sleeves faster than travelers pass by, and it isn’t long before he finds himself a whole head and a half taller than the vampire. His father laughs at his shaggy bangs, proclaiming Silver to be more sheep than boy, and attacks his hair with all the ferocity of a mad barber. The lasting effect leaves something to be desired and Silver could swear that the bluebirds by their window are chortling to themselves instead of singing. 

His father ruffles his sharp nails through the butchered mess of Silver’s hair and laughs again, proclaiming them to be matching lopsided twins, and Silver is unable to imagine a moment that he’s ever been happier. 

What a shame it is then, that all good things cannot last. 

The summer of Silver’s sixteenth year is a cruel, unforgiving one. 

The August sun swelters the earth with a breathless heat, insidious like none before. It is relentless in its seething anger to drive the woodland creatures to the deepest burrows in search of shade, the birds to practically droop like molten taffy in their water bowls, and his father to haunt the shadows of their home, face flushed and eyes feverish in a way that no cool rag could soothe. 

There could be no greater pain in Silver’s heart than this: the wilt in his father’s proud spine, the light tremors that seize his clever fingertips. He hovers over the vampire like a fretting maid, hands wringing uselessly as nothing short of the obvious will soothe his father’s condition, and travelers have been few and far between. Lilia conjures up smiles for him and swears that he’ll be alright, it’s simply a harsher season than before, and Silver cannot help but get the distinct feeling that he’s being placated. Even worse, it mostly works, the lonely and frightened child from the woods who sleeps deep in his soul comforted by that unsinkable paternal reassurance. 

Still, Silver is unable to completely shake the feeling that something is amiss. 

Lately, his rest at night has been disturbed. He wakes to the faint sounds of ruptured inhales so very close to his ear, of something in the clear throes of distress, with choked noises of desperately sought after air as if the deprived creature was suffocating. The noises are so frightening, so animalistic in nature that Silver can only think to associate them with his beloved woodland creatures, and yet when he hurries to his bedroom window and peers outside with his heart in his throat to find the poor animal that had been mauled by a predator— there is nothing but the silent gleam of moonlight, shining down upon his deflated flower beds. 

His father merely purses his lips in worry when Silver brings these odd instances to him, and wonders aloud if these are queasy dreams brought on by the heat; with little else to explain, Silver’s inclined to believe him. 

But these events are pushed out of his mind when salvation finally approaches one late afternoon in the weary figure of a man, clinging to the reins of a stumbling horse, at the end of their pathway. 

His father must have sensed the newcomer’s presence too, for Lilia is at the door before Silver can even call for him, ever the gracious host and smiling beatifically at their wayward traveler as if Silver hadn’t needed to shake his shoulders thrice in mounting worry to wake him that very morning. The man eagerly accepts the offer of nightly shelter, passing the reins of his horse to Silver to tie to a post in the welcome shade of a nearby tree, and Silver watches over its broad shoulder as he gently rubs the creature down. His father, ever the effortless conversationalist even at the height of his malady, needs no reins with which to lead the man into the cool, womb-like darkness of their home, and Silver feels a rush of palpable relief at the familiarity of the old song and dance— perhaps at last, his father might finally take a turn for the better.  

The next morning, Silver checks on his father first and smiles to see the vampire snoring away in what must have been his first blissful sleep in weeks, bedsheets haphazardly tangled about him in an ocean of white. With practiced motions, he leans down to straighten the blankets fondly around the slumbering figure, only to wrinkle his nose at the sharp scent of iron heavy on his father’s breath. After such a dry spell, the bitter tang scratches at his senses, and he can’t help but take a glance into their tiny living room where their guest yawns and shuffles in his borrowed blankets. 

Perhaps a breakfast with a healthy side of dark, leafy greens was in order. 

Morning is a quiet and simple affair— his father is sleeping in for once it seems, and Silver makes efficient work out of the early meal for their guest who must have had a rough night of tossing and turning judging by his wrinkled clothes and constant, belly-deep yawns. Silver even offers for the man to stay a while longer if he isn’t fit yet for travel, but their guest insists (rather strongly for his exhausted nature) that he could not impose on their goodwill much longer. With a mental shrug, Silver bows his head and allows the man privacy to retrieve his things, heading outside with the intent to bring the waiting horse to its owner. 

Only, the horse is nowhere to be seen. 

Silver’s heart falters in his chest, and he turns to their departing guest with a litany of apologies on his lips, for he had been so sure of tying the creature up safely for the night, but the man waves him off with an unsteady hand and a smile that keeps attempting to slip from his face as if greased, proclaiming that he had no need for what had been such an aging beast. He could continue his travels alone, and Silver can only watch and uneasily curl his fingers into his palms as the man cuts a wavering figure back down their pathway despite his bewildered protests. 

(“We ought to warn those who stop by that there may be a bear in the woods,” he tells his father later, the vampire having woken long past their traveler’s departure. “The noises I’ve been hearing and now the horse’s disappearance. . . someone could get hurt.” 

His father doesn’t seem too concerned with Silver’s hypothesis, and he supposes that’s simply how one behaves after centuries of besting mortality. Still, he resolves to be more cautious in his time spent outdoors.) 

The man’s arrival marks a turning point in the summer, the blistering dog days giving way to the cooler promise of autumn. It also marks a turning point in his father’s health, one that Silver is initially so incredibly grateful for as the vampire seems to perk up and become the very picture of rosy, energetic grace. The weakened figure of mere weeks prior haunts the corridors of his mind, and Silver finds himself making excuses as his father welcomes the oddly increasing number of strangers who have found themselves down their homely path with open arms and glittering eyes above a wide, gleaming smile. It had simply been a veritable drought of company, and his father, gregarious as he was, was in his element now, thriving off the attention almost as much as the blood that came with it.

And perhaps that is what itched at his nerves most of all. It was one thing to suddenly play house with the travelers that seemed to constantly appear on their doorstep—

(Silver had questioned them, a discomforting notion to learn that not only had they been told of the cottage’s existence by those who staggered off in the mornings, but almost fervently urged to visit.)

—but never before had he witnessed his father drink in such abandon. With such a slow, but steady, trickle of visitors, his father may have sampled another’s blood once or twice a month at most, always cautious enough to not take too much. His father is not a monster, and his kindness exceeds that of all the humanity that Silver had known in his short life— this he tells himself as he averts his gaze from the still-clotting punctures, glistening and accusatory over rumpled shirts. 

His father is not a monster, and he still tells himself this as he stumbles out of his bedroom one cold winter’s night, awoken once more to that strange, garbled collection of sound. His father is not a monster, because it simply could not be his father crouched before him on the floor of their living room, an all too still and silent figure splayed out beneath him like a rag doll. He surely must be dreaming, as those muffled, wet noises pause in their desperate slurping and enlarged fangs draw up and away from a ruined shoulder, dripping in a dark, glutinous substance. His father is not a monster, because the creature hunched in the shadows of a dying fire looks nothing like the angel who had rescued him in the forest all those years ago— whatever this, this thing is, slavering wildly over a face locked in a euphoric death mask, it is not his dearest father.

They behold each other in the scant space of a fragile moment, a bewildered gaze still frozen before the onslaught of horror could possibly sink in opposite that of unmoored feral hunger. Silver thinks back to the knife hidden beneath the drawer of his nightstand, cloaked in dust and dried flowers and the somber protection of a father’s love. He thinks back to the incredible speed that had disposed of the men who had intended to kill him on such a similar frigid night, a speed unmatched to the naked eye. 

The vampire utters his name like a prayer, smeared tenderly in lamb’s blood.

His father is not a monster.

Silver opens his arms, and waits for his angel to carry him home. 

In response to the delicate graze of his father’s gore-drenched claws against his youthful face, the boy’s eyes flutter open at last. Lilia does not seem to notice the vibrancy that has vanished from them, leaving behind the dull haze of a mist-choked morn where once the dawn light soared; perhaps he simply does not care. “Oh, Silver,” he breathes in reverence, the miraculous wonder of a father witnessing his child’s (re)birth for the first time, and he throws his arms around the boy’s stiff shoulders. There is no response, but that is to be expected when one is missing a greater third of their tattered and torn esophagus, the mutilated remains of which are strewn across the floor or smeared over Lilia’s mouth.  “My darling boy, my precious son, how perfect you are at last.”

Silver trembles in his arms like a newborn fawn, and Lilia coos reassurances to him, helps his boy to his feet and steadies his legs as he leads him over to where their meal now lay in a crumpled and tangled heap. It is always cumbersome, the first feeding, and Lilia had no one to guide him through the carnal, mindless greed of his own— no such fate shall befall his son. He will share with him the abundance of milk and honey, lift it to his frozen lips where those new, budding fangs peek innocently above, and watch with boundless pride as new life, a near eternal life, is bestowed upon the one timeless treasure he has coveted in over six hundred stolen centuries. 

Later, they will bury the body together, sink the flesh deep within the garden where the others take their rest, a cluster of pearly white bones only disturbed by an odd set of larger, equine-shaped ones. Later still, when a young man approaches their home in the evening gloom to seek shelter on the long, arduous journey to his grandfather, Silver will greet him. He will smile enchantingly over his new high-necked shirt and take his hand, drawing him deep into the clutches of their wonderful little home, deep into the blessed darkness where his father waits. The table will stay barren, the bed unmade— there is no more need for pretense between the two of them. Not now, and not ever. 

Lilia can see it all. And with pleasure, he smiles. 

[tashism]

older gf!tashi is invading my mind… doing something for her birthday, making it a whole day affair like starting with a bike ride and then going to her favorite cafe. snuggling at home with a movie on and then going out for a nice dinner. giving her presents and with every one her face is heating up more and more because no one has even known her so well.

sigh. forever thinking about her

hi i’m so happy you guys love older gf!tashi so much because i love her so much and she won’t leave my mind!! i could write about her forever!! and i just might!!

she’s been talking about this bike trail along the side of a mountain for what feels like months now. you don’t trust your biking skills nearly enough to do this, but you love her, so what’s a broken rib? waking up bright and early to set out her first gift — a brand new zip up, one of those tight ones with the thumb holes in the sleeves. she loves those things. a matching pair of leggings folded on top. waking her up with a kiss to the forehead and a quiet “c’mon, birthday girl”. she comes out of the room with a bright smile and sleepy face, her hair pulled back into a ponytail that flips around when she does a little spin for you, her hand grabbing under your jaw gently to pull you into a kiss.“i love it, thank you” she mutters before kissing you again and grabbing her water bottle to fill up.

before you know it, you’re following close behind her up the side of this steep mountain, yelling at the back of her head about how this is making you want to shit your pants from how nervous you are. the second you get to the top of the trail she takes out her ten year old digital camera, snapping pictures of the sky, your profile, your shoes, her eye, anything that she thinks might look nice in a scrap book one day. sweet lady.

after more than a few kisses and a long talk by the summit (never too close, you’re too nervous), it’s back down the mountain and to the car, off to her favorite little mexican cafe. she gets a hot chocolate because of course she does. you’d swear she changed her life the second you introduced her to abuelita. she never finishes her concha, always more than insistent that you share with her because she won’t eat it later. you never share, she always eats it later. you pay, she complains about it, you go home. all the biking and talking and hot cocoa drinking got the both of you sweaty — you shower together. running your hands through her hair, massaging shampoo into her scalp, kissing and nipping at her neck and chest and cheeks, telling her how lucky you are. you get so caught up in feeling her, in practically worshipping her kiss after kiss, that you don’t even process that she’s washing your hair while you do so.

after the shower it’s robes and wine, some cheese from trader joe’s that she says she’s too full to eat while stuffing her face with it. she leans into you all curled up, her brows furrowed while she picks a movie. you both fall asleep thirty minutes into the waterboy. the grating sound of your alarm startles the both of you, but it’s the fact that you’re bound to be twenty minutes late to your reservation that gets you on your feet. she wears a her prettiest jewelry and fanciest knit sweater, you wear some skirt from the bottom of your drawer and the boots she got you last week. more kisses, more giggling, one smack on the ass from her trying to get you out the door.

she loves martinis. god, why does she love martinis? what’s worse is that she gets you to take a sip every time, then you end up chugging half of your mai tai to try and chase the olive taste out. she orders steak fritz, you order truffle ravioli. you laugh about your friends and how dysfunctional their relationship is, how bad that pie they brought to thanksgiving was. you never tell the staff it’s her birthday; you’d rather spare her the awkward song and sparklers and just pay for whatever dessert she wants. she wants some lemon ricotta pastry, but she wants you to get the german chocolate cake so you two can share. she tells you that she wants to read the midnight library, you tell her you’ve heard good things about it. she wonders if she should get into pottery, you wonder what mugs and bowls her pretty hands could craft. after forks scraping frosting and a weird lemon dessert that you both hated, it’s back home.

you’re all too eager to get her in the house, all giddy as you unlock the door and drag her into the room, pulling out all her gifts from your side of the closet. she’s always sort of hated gifts. she’s used to perfumes and heels and lingerie — shit she doesn’t need and “should” want. a card, three boxes, and a bag. she goes for the card first, reading the lengthy message you left in there before peeling open the piece of folded paper inside. a cooking class in the heart of the city. just for her, you didn’t even bother booking a couple’s class. “you don’t like sharing the kitchen” you laugh softly, “n’ i figured it would be a nice personal thing”. the woman likes her solo hobbies, who doesn’t? you watch with warm eyes as she starts ripping at the brown parchment wrapping of the first box. brand new hokas, the ones she’s been refusing to buy herself because it seemed like a waste of money. after that is a brand new film camera. she mentioned it once at some point, and you’re sure of that by the look on her face. the box after that is just rolls of film and a little book about photography.

lastly, her bunny. that is, her stuffed bunny from when she was like… six. she hasn’t stopped talking about the thing pretty much since you met, always complaining about how it had to be somewhere in her mom’s attic. it was — it was ratty and faded and hers, a popped off eye and loose stitching. you sent it to one of those people on etsy who revives stuffed animals, now it’s nearly new. you can’t tell if it’s the lighting or the three martinis, or maybe she’s just genuinely a little emotional, but you can’t swear you see tears brimming in her pretty eyes.

i’m so sorry this is so long wow. wow wow wow

[googleblogs123]

Forex Trading Insights: A Deep Dive into Market Movements

Gold's Safe-Haven Appeal

Gold prices have been steadily increasing as traders prepare for the CPI data release on Wednesday. This shift towards safe-haven assets is a typical reaction in forex trading, where market participants seek to hedge against risks. The continued rise in gold prices indicates its importance in securing profits during uncertain times. Stay updated with gold trends on DBGM FX.

Silver's Stagnation and Potential

While silver is witnessing modest gains, it remains within a consolidation range between 29.018 and 27.725. As the CPI release approaches, there's anticipation for a further rise in silver prices. For traders using a scalping strategy, the upcoming volatility could provide best forex signals for profitable trades.

U.S. Dollar Fluctuations

Currently, the U.S. dollar is experiencing weakness, lingering around 101.786. If the CPI data is favorable, there’s a chance for the dollar to bounce back. However, traders should remain cautious, as a potential drop could also impact their forex trading strategies. For more information on dollar trends, visit RichSmart FX.

GBP/USD Trends

The British pound may show strength in the near term, especially with lower-than-expected unemployment claims. The "W" formation at 1.31097 indicates potential support, but traders should remain alert to market fluctuations driven by upcoming data. For GBP/USD insights, check out Topmax Global.

The Australian and New Zealand Dollars

Both the Australian and New Zealand dollars are under pressure, with the AUD struggling to break 0.66541 and the NZD hovering around 0.61408. Traders should adopt a cautious approach, awaiting clearer signals before entering positions. Stay informed with updates from Axel Private Market.

Euro and Yen Market Activity

The euro has fallen below the 1.10371 mark, with ongoing selling pressure likely. Conversely, the yen is demonstrating strength and has reached new lows below previous support levels, particularly noted during the Asian trading session. For detailed analysis, explore WorldQuest LLC.

Swiss Franc and Canadian Dollar Dynamics

The Swiss franc has regained strength but remains within a tight consolidation zone. A breakout in either direction will be crucial for determining future movements. Meanwhile, the Canadian dollar continues to face challenges due to oil price declines and trade concerns, presenting a complicated landscape for traders. For more details, visit Ricsma Group.

Final Thoughts

Overall, the forex trading environment is ripe with opportunities for those who adapt and strategize effectively. Utilizing scalping forex methods can help traders identify the best forex signals in this volatile market, ultimately enhancing their investment strategies.

[telugutraderaj]

Live Intraday Trading in Telugu with ₹20,000 – 10th Oct 2024 | Telugu Trader AJ

Hey traders! Welcome to today’s Live Intraday Trading session where I take you through real-time trading with just ₹20,000 capital in Nifty and Bank Nifty options. This session, dated 10th October 2024, is focused on how you can make daily profits by applying smart strategies in volatile markets.

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What You’ll Learn in This Session:

Live Trading with ₹20,000: Watch me execute live trades in Nifty and Bank Nifty with a small capital of ₹20,000. I explain my approach to selecting the right entry points, placing stop-losses, and taking profits.

Scalping Techniques: See how I use scalping strategies to make quick profits from short-term price movements in both Nifty and Bank Nifty, and how timing can be crucial to success.

Managing Risks: Learn my tips for controlling risk when trading with limited funds. I discuss how to protect your capital while aiming for consistent daily gains.

Live Insights on Zerodha: Follow my trades on the Zerodha platform as I walk you through my thought process during the trading session, giving you insights into my strategy and decision-making.

Why You Should Watch:

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