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brokenmoonsongs · 2 years

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35 from touching prompt with jaskel? <3

Ooh, Jaskel! For sure!

I'm always open for more prompts from this post~

35. kissing their bruises and scars

H/C, Jaskel, mentions of a beating, so bruises, but nothing graphic.

Good Medicine Rating: Mature WC: 1.2K

The first time Jaskier took Eskel to bed, they both were very drunk and angry with the world. Eskel had come to this no-name town after horrible contract gone wrong at another no-name town, and Jaskier had learned some very horrible news from an old friend. As perceptive as Jaskier was, especially when it came to Witcher types, it wasn't until they were fumbling in the darkened rented room that the bard had even noticed the wolf medallion.

It was hot, rough, and everything they both needed that night. Jaskier was lost to the sounds he could get out of Eskel, and wanted to taste every inch of him. Since he didn't have Witcher senses, Jaskier could only remember the bright eyes and toughened skin.

To Jaskier's dismay, the Witcher was gone by morning. He didn't regret the night, only that it was just the one, or so he thought.

It was nearly a month later when Jaskier had another opportunity to know more about this particular wolf, than what he learned in their alcohol fueled tumble.

Over the years, Jaskier had gotten better in keeping out of bar brawls or into incidents that would threaten his livelihood, especially the times when he was roaming the Continent on his own. He'd also gotten a little complacent when it came to just how nasty his fellow artists could get, especially after such a thorough musical tromping at this particular Bardic competition.

After all, only someone with an ego like Jaskier would enter a battle of the bands as a solo artist. And win.

He was very much grateful for his stupid luck coming through for him in the form of a big hulking Witcher finding where he was getting his arse beaten by one of the losing bands. Everything was a little blurry after that.

* * *

"Ow! That stings!" Jaskier hisses, resisting the urge to pull his hand away from the warm and gentle grip of the other man.

He was sitting in the bed of the Witcher's rented room this time, as Eskel tended to his wounds. It had been a surprise to the both of them when they recognized each other after Eskel had to half-drag Jaskier to safety.

Eskel raises an eyebrow, though his face is mostly turned away from Jaskier, as he finishes dabbing the ointment on Jaskier's knuckles. "What, do you want me to kiss it and make it better?"

"Why, yes, actually," Jaskier responds, mirroring Eskel's raised eyebrow when the Witcher looks at him in surprise. He knows he can be the worst patient, the best of times. "Only fair, if we're being honest."

Eskel chuckles, shaking his head. "I save you from an angry band of musicians—"

"Barely musicians, honestly anyone can just get a few people together and call themselves a band—"

"—and tend to your wounds, and I still owe you a kiss?"

"Many kisses, actually. For each scrape I've obtained." Jaskier knows he's overdoing it with the hair flip, but it's more entertaining to get a rise out of Eskel than to think of the embarrassment of needing to be rescued by bards.

Eskel turns Jaskier's hand around in his, inspecting to make sure he hadn't missed a cut or scrape. "I still don't see your logic. Or perhaps I should check your head for some bruising?"

Jaskier sees slight amusement on Eskel's face and grins. "Well, because, my dear beautiful Witcher. You so thoroughly ravished me last time, and then left me, that I was so bereft that I wandered the countryside for many a week! And in my bereavement, entered a silly contest since I didn't have a smart Wolf such as yourself to tell me no."

"No wonder you won the contest, you clearly believe the lies you tell, that it makes it easy for anyone else to want to believe," Eskel murmurs after a moment's consideration. But before Jaskier could protest at any lies, he watches the brunet raise Jaskier's hand up to his lips and kisses each knuckle softly.

Despite the fact that Eskel had been rather gentle in his tending of Jaskier, this tenderness sends a shiver throughout Jaskier's body.

"Anywhere else?"

Jaskier blinks back to the present and quickly shows the bruise on his other arm. It's minor, and Jaskier knows that in a few days it'll be gone. Still, he looks at Eskel expectantly.

Eskel again looks at him, and seems surprised when Jaskier holds his gaze. He goes to kiss the bruise, but doesn't look away from Jaskier. The bard flushes with want.

He then whines with need when Eskel doesn't move away and presses his lips harder, sucking a different sort of bruise on top of the one there. It sends Jaskier back to their drunken night over a moon ago, how even within their desperation to get off, Eskel still made sure to leave no marks.

"One more place, Witcher, before I consider your debt repaid," Jaskier says, voice husky and barely above a whisper, knowing the other man could still hear him.

Eskel pulls away from his arm to see Jaskier pointing with his other hand to his lips. There's a very minor cut there, really, Jaskier wouldn't have noticed it if he hadn't licked his lips at Eskel's actions.

This kiss was none too gentle, more passionate and Jaskier gave as good as he got, carding his fingers through Eskel's short hair, moaning loudly. He even took to biting Eskel's lower lip, just a touch harder then necessary, giving him an impish grin when the other man pulled back briefly.

"And what was that for, bard?"

Even with the heady arousal coursing through the both of them in this moment, Jaskier tenderly strokes Eskel's scarred cheek, noticing the slight flinch. "I don't lie. I sometimes may omit truths, and stretch them out. But you are beautiful. And handsome, and rugged, and strong, with a voice that—mmph!"

Eskel kisses him again with such force that Jaskier falls back onto the bed, and pulls the Witcher along with him. They both chuckle against each other's lips.

"So, bardling. Am I still in your debt?"

"I think you'll need to do a thorough inspection of my body to ensure you've done your due diligence, Witcher."

Eskel growls lowly, a hand going to Jaskier's half opened chemise, tugging the rest of the lacing off. Jaskier waits until his chest is bared and before Eskel moves from the distracted kisses to pull Eskel's hand up towards him.

"I've forgotten though, my repayment of your kindness," he says in a way to ensure that this is all part of the game they're now playing. He pauses long enough to see that understanding in Eskel's eyes, glancing down now at reddened sword callused fingers. Smiling, he kisses each fingertip, lingering at the scar that runs along the man's thumb.

Eskel makes a noise that sounds like pleasure, and so Jaskier continues what he started the last time, kissing and tasting along Eskel's strong hand and arm, taking care for each scar or mark he comes across. It takes a few moments before Eskel returns the favor, allowing Jaskier to continue his ministrations as he lowers his face to kiss the flowering bruise on Jaskier's stomach.

The rest of the night goes like this, a lesson of contrasts, of gentle and passionate touches, of teeth and nails and sighs and whimpers. And in the morning, the beginning of a new relationship.

#the witcher #jaskel #jaskier #eskel #jaskier x eskel #my fics #anonymous #ask #prompt fic #I hope this pleases you anon~#will eventually put this on ao3 but may take some days~#my post

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arukou-arukou · 4 years

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Just A Really Very Intelligent System

Been thinking about this one for a while. Finally managed to write it. Rating: T for “Language.” (It just kinda slipped out.) Characters: Tony Stark & JARVIS

----

He is in one of the most dangerous situations of his life trying to save the whole freaking universe by watching a man the size of a dust bunny wriggle into the hairline of his younger self, so it would be really, really bad if he happened to have a heart attack. Older him that is. But he nearly does go into cardiac arrest when he hears an old friend in his ear.

“Verify immediately. Failure to verify will result in an activation of level one security protocols.”

His tongue is stuck to the roof of his mouth and his palms are sweating, but somehow he manages to whisper out: “Edwin-12-19-91-4-8-47-Alpha Override.”

“Override accepted. Sir?”

“Hey, J.”

“Sir, you have imbued me with considerable computing power, and yet never did you prepare me for the possibility of you being in two places at once.”

“Yeah, about that. You haven’t said anything to Mr. Quipster over there, have you?”

“Not as yet, Sir. You wish me to keep it that way?”

“It would really help me out, buddy.”

“Very well, Sir.”

Tony wants to stay longer, to talk, to warn JARVIS, to cry, but he has places to be, things to do, planets to save. Scott’s safely positioned, so Tony yeets himself out of the building to get to the ground floor. He doesn’t know why he thought that would make JARVIS disappear.

“I see, Sir, that your proclivities for leaping before looking are unchanged.”

Another near heart attack--he’s gradually phased Friday out of his ears now that the nanotech is connected directly to his nervous system, so he’s not exactly used to AI voices anymore--but he recovers more quickly. “You’re always there to catch me, J.”

“And yet my systems are not present in your suit, Sir. I see codal remnants of system designation FRIDAY, but nothing of myself.”

Tony remains silent. This is such a terrible time to be feeling all the feelings. He spots a grunt who looks more or less unimportant and knocks the guy out. Part of him wants to warn SHIELD about their shit security, but then again, this guy’s probably Hydra and he deserves every bruise he gets. He senses JARVIS in his systems, a ghost in the shell.

“You no longer have the reactor. And if I’m not mistaken, that is gray in your hair. So you are not my Sir.”

“Well, yes and no.”

“I suppose it would destroy the spacetime continuum for you to divulge the truth to me.”

“You’re too smart for me, J,” Tony grunts as he yanks on the bullet-proof tac vest. “It’s kind of a long story, and while I technically have all the time in the world, I also really, really don’t.”

He sidles into the lobby and looks toward his personal elevator, waiting for the Avengers to appear. J is quiet so long Tony wonders if he’s being preoccupied by...well, just about anything. Damaged internal systems, a Cap copy on the loose, a second Hulk out there, panicked calls from Pepper. But then JARVIS speaks again.

“Regardless of the tale, I must conclude that you are from the future, and I am no longer by your side.”

Tony is fucking choking up. He was not ready for this. It didn’t even cross his mind. And the fucking elevator is opening. There’s Pierce, the rat bastard, trying to collect the Tesseract.

“I hope I did not disappoint you, Sir.”

“Never, J. Never.” Fuck fuck fuck, he’s nearly crying and now Scott is on the com waiting for the go-ahead. Tony channels his pain into panic and orders his own cardiac arrest.

“Sir, what are you--”

Thank god, his younger self is on the ground and that’s apparently all the distraction J needs to abandon older Tony. Tesseract incoming. Tony grabs it and starts going and--

Blinking stars out of his eyes he watches as Loki makes off with the key, the thing they most needed, the damn stone that started all of this way back when Cap was a starry-eyed beanpole in World War II. He has just biffed saving the entire damn universe because of an overgrown Star Trek reject with anger issues. And now he has a migraine to boot.

Frozen in shame and horror, Tony watches as Thor attempts ill-advised cardiac electro-stim. Scott’s somewhere out there, yammering in Tony’s ear on the private channel, but all of that is just a buzzing.

“Sir? Sir. Sir!”

And J. Maybe Tony should cry now. It certainly feels like the time for it. One of the other SHIELD grunts is making her way toward him, so he staggers to his feet, waving her off and limping toward the door. Think. Think, brain, think. Tony is a genius, the man who invented time travel, the man who miniaturized arc reactor technology. A spaceship? SHIELD’s probably got one somewhere. Maybe they could chase after Loki.

“SIR!” How many times JARVIS has shouted his title, Tony has no idea, but this one is so loud it sets his teeth on edge.

“Yeah, J? Kind of busy here.”

“Giving yourself a heart attack, Sir?” JARVIS was programmed to be cool and calm in all circumstances, but Tony could swear that sentence was uttered with seething rage.

“I’m fine. Look at me.”

“Only by some measure of infinitesimal luck, Sir. Perhaps I should ask you to verify your identity one more time, as you seem intent on killing yourself.”

“No, J. I’ve actually got a lot of reasons to live. And so does he. Promise.” Tony is so tired. Was being an Avenger always this exhausting? Or is it just that he’s bumped over that damnable big 5-0? And Cap’s gonna ream him too. That’s never any fun.

“I’m...glad to hear it, Sir.”

And fuck it. It’s not like this will alter Tony’s timeline anyway. This reality is now on a different trajectory thanks to Severus Snape Lite. “Her name’s Morgan. You’d love her, J. Just turned four. She got my hair. Hope to god she didn’t get my personality.”

“Do I meet her, Sir?”

Fuck. Fuck fuck fuck it.

“J, you should dig a little deeper into SHIELD’s systems. Well, actually, a lot deeper. And the Pentagon while you’re at it. And track down Maya Hansen from that conference in 1999 and poach her from whatever outfit she’s working for. Immediately. Make sure she brings all her vet patients with her. And, uh, when I start talking about a suit of armor around the world, steer me away from anything called Ultron. And if I make it anyway, you delete the fuck out of that system file. Have Bruce back you up. He’s more sensible.”

“Sir, I don’t--”

“And have me make back-ups. At least three extra farms of servers for you. On different continents. And all those SHIELD files? Make sure Cap and Fury get them. And there’s...there’s this guy. This assassin. Brainwashed. He’s, uh, I think he’s on ice in Uzbekistan right now. If you could rescue him, it’ll...it’ll fix a lot of things.”

“Should you really--”

“And, please. Please please.”

Tony is not crying. He’s not. It’s just all the dust and debris in the air. Good lord, he’s probably going to die of cancer anyway. And all those first responders. Did he start a fund for them?

“Start a medical fund for the first responders on the ground today. And start leaning on Congressmen to make medical plans for them. You know how long they take to get anything done. Oh, and Stern. There are incriminating photos of Stern with some young ladies on South Beach. See if you can dig those up. Flowers for Pep. And a box of chocolates. And a dry martini with extra olives.”

Tony slumps into a burned out car, staring at nothing. He didn’t save his universe, but maybe he can save this one. His eyes are still irritated, burning red and itchy. He resists the urge to scrub at them, not wanting to grind in anymore dust.

“Are you quite finished, Sir?”

“Yeah. Actually, no. I love you, J.”

Silence. Ah. That’s stumped him. Maybe he’ll go back to tending his new posse of baby chicks now.

“I know you probably do not believe me capable of it, Sir, but I love you, too.”

His son. The only one he’ll ever make, but not the only one he’s lost. His son loves him. Tony’s throat is full of dust, too. Funny how that happens. He tries to swallow it down, but it only congeals into a hard lump. He puts a hand over his mouth to try and hold back any choking sounds. “I...I know you do, J.”

“As to your orders, I shall do what I can. It is my duty to protect you, Sir, and I would very much like to meet your little Morgan.”

“She might not exist here. I might’ve just changed everything.”

“If there is one thing I have learned from all my years with you, Sir, it is that perhaps such a thing as fate exists after all. Even mathematically speaking. And if that is the case, I cannot imagine a universe in which you are not fated to this happiness.”

Tony laughs, if only to keep from crying harder. And he is. Crying, that is. As if he was fooling anyone. Happiness? Him? Happy people don’t wake in the night screaming for a pile of dust in their hands. Happy people don’t spend hours coordinating relief efforts for countries whose entire infrastructural support has collapsed. Happy people don’t hurl themselves back in time, driven by guilt and horror at all the wrongs in the world. J, brilliant, wonderful AI that he is, seems to sense the dark turn of Tony’s thoughts.

“And if you yourself cannot believe in this thing, Sir, then I shall just have to do everything in my power to provide it for you.”

Another guffaw, but at least his eyes are drying a little now. “God, I miss you, J.”

“I believe your small teammate is approaching, Sir. If I may inquire, was it the Tesseract you were seeking?”

“You mean the stupid blue cube of doom? That’s the one.”

“And you say you have the means to time travel?”

“Yeah, J. We do. But only enough to get back to our time.”

“A limitation has never stopped you before, Sir.” JARVIS sounds thoughtful, as if he’s forming a plan.

Tony would ask him what he’s scheming at, but just at that moment, Scott embiggens himself and slumps into the car with Tony. That road is closed, then. They are out of options. Out of Pym particles. Out of time. Out of hope.

Until they aren’t. Just as Tony is setting his device for their new destination, J pipes up again, for Tony’s ears only. “You say you miss me, Sir. Then allow me to give you a small gift.”

Tony is pressing the buttons, and even if they weren’t already shrinking into the quantum tunnel, he wouldn’t be able to ask exactly what J means. It’s only when he and Cap arrive in 1970 that he has his first gleaning. In his ear, a voice. One so unexpected he nearly jumps into Cap’s arms. “Hello, System Administrator Anthony Edward Stark. I am System Designation EDWIN. ‘Eagerly Deployed With Intent to Neutralize Loneliness.’ I am told to tell you the “L” is silent and invisible. How may I best serve you today, Sir?”

Cap is staring at Tony like Tony’s lost his mind. And maybe he has. He’s been bugged by his own damn operating system. With a bouncing baby AI. And if Steve finds out, he’ll probably have a conniption about the spacetime continuum or something. So the only logical thing Tony can do is say, “Let’s find some Pym particles.”

“Acknowledged, Sir. Commencing scanning.”

-----

(In this reality EDWIN saves the fuck out of Tony’s life and everyone lives happily ever after and EDWIN builds JARVIS from scratch so he’s back or something, okay? Okay.)

#writing #fanfiction #tony stark #jarvis

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frizz22 · 5 years

Text

Everything Has A Price

SUMMARY: Aunt Zelda had warned her, said they were all in a grave, that everything had a price. Sabrina just hadn’t listened.

Spoilers for 1x08 and 1x09

Read on ao3

Sabrina staggered back home, the gunshot still ringing in her ears. This was the price. What Aunt Zelda had told her about, what she’d purposely ignored in her pursuit of what she’d deemed was right. But Sabrina couldn’t think of a time when she’d been so, so very wrong.

The worst of it was, she hadn’t paid the price…not really. While her heart may be breaking into thousands of painful shards, Harvey was the one who’d had to go and kill the brother he’d thought had so miraculously returned. Harvey was the one suffering. Again. Only this time, this time it was completely her fault.

As the house came into sight, Sabrina could make out a figure on the porch. She was equally dreading and hoping that it was Aunt Zelda. Desperate for the comfort her aunt could provide but wanting to avoid the shouting match and lecture she thought might be waiting for her instead.

“Aunt Zelda,” she stated, voice breaking as she neared the porch. “It’s over. Tommy’s dead. And Harvey and I—” She couldn’t finish, it’d all been far too much, the tears that she had been too shocked to let fall come pouring out now. A sob wrenching itself from her throat.

The effort of holding herself upright, of making it up the stairs was suddenly daunting. Sabrina stumbled forward and fell onto one of the lower porch steps. She’d barely made contact with the wood when Aunt Zelda was catching her, scooping her into her arms and holding her tight.

Zelda made soothing noises, cradling Sabrina and pressing kisses to her hair as she rocked. More sobs bubbled up her throat, she didn’t deserve the comfort, not after what she’d done. Especially not from Aunt Zelda, those awful words she’d shouted echoed in the back of her mind—that Zelda wasn’t her mother.

Perhaps it was true, technically. But Aunt Zelda was one of the closest things Sabrina had ever had to a parent. Taking several gulping breathes, Sabrina pulled back slightly to meet her aunt’s gaze, fully intending to fix at least one of the most important relationships in her life. Zelda furrowed her brow and cupped Sabrina’s cheek, waiting patiently.

Before Sabrina could form the words, however, the strangest sensation stole over her. She’d learned about summoning at the academy, but had never witnessed it, let alone experienced it. But she knew that was what was happening and from Aunt Zelda’s wide-eyed expression before she too disappeared, Sabrina knew her conclusion was correct.

They both staggered a bit upon reappearing. Sabrina whipped her head around trying to get her bearings when Aunt Hilda and Ambrose appeared as well just a few feet to their left. Ambrose had only one shoe on, the other in his hand, and Hilda was frozen with a cooking spoon held aloft—clearly having been in the middle of brewing something.

The Spellman’s exchanged baffled looks as to why they were in the Church of Night, Sabrina about to ask the obvious when Aunt Zelda spoke—directing her question to a figure Sabrina hadn’t noticed before.

“Faustus,” she sighed, “what is—”

“This was not my doing, I didn’t—” He began, but cut himself off as a hulking form emerged from the back of the church.

A collective gasp escaped the Spellman family, the hoofed feet and curling horns unmistakable. Ambrose and Hilda moved forward and pressed against Sabrina and Zelda’s backs.

“My Dark Lord,” Zelda murmured, half bowing and attempting a smile, though it wavered and disappeared. “To what do we owe—”

“Precisely.” The growling voice cut off Zelda’s. “You owe.”

Aunt Zelda straightened and pushed Sabrina further behind her. Sabrina’s eyes flickered back and forth between her aunt and the Dark Lord, not understanding what was happening.

“And how did we incur this debt? If I may ask.” Zelda bowed her head slightly, but her arms came up to keep her family shielded behind her.

The Devil’s laughter grated Sabrina’s ears and she had to resist the urge to cover them. “The easier question would be what your family has not done, Sister Zelda. Father Blackwood, read off the offenses.” The being waved a hand in Blackwood’s direction and the man stepped forward with a parchment.

Sabrina noticed that Father Blackwood was paler than even usual, and a nervous sweat beaded his brow. He seemed to be dreading this as much as her family was.

Clearing his throat, Blackwood began to read aloud. “The Spellman family, headed by a Zelda Fiona Spellman, is found guilty of the following. An attempt to blow up the false god’s church in Rome by one Ambrose Spellman—risking exposure of our kind and realm. Participation in a baptism for the false god by one Hildegard Spellman. Participation in a forbidden exorcism on a mortal by Zelda Spellman, Hildegard Spellman and Sabrina Spellman. Participation in the disrupt—” Blackwood stumbled, his eyes finding them for a brief moment in silent apology before continuing. “Disruption of the Feast of Feasts by Zelda Spellman, Hildegard Spellman, Ambrose Spellman and Sabrina Spellman. Participation in the necromancy and attempted resurrection of a mortal which almost cost a witch’s life, by Sabrina Spellman.”

Blackwood concluded and made eye contact with her Aunt Zelda once more, his expression unreadable. Well, at least to Sabrina, Zelda’s quiet, but sharp inhale told her that her aunt once more understood what was happening far more than Sabrina. Though she had an idea, they were in something considerably more serious than trouble.

The Dark Lord stepped forward again. “A price must be paid for the actions of your family, Sister Zelda. They, and you, have frequently broken coven laws and traditions—without consequence. That ends today. The debt your family has accrued will be collected.”

Sabrina couldn’t process this, it was all happening too fast. Some of these transgressions were months old, if not decades. She knew those weren’t the reason they had all been summoned to the church in front of the Dark Lord himself.

It had been her attempt to resurrect Tommy. Her willingness to swap a witch for a mortal—no matter how temporary she’d intended that switch to be. It was her fault they were there, that this debt suddenly needed paying. Her attention was brought back to the situation when Aunt Zelda replied.

“I understand. And I will pay it.” Zelda stepped away from Sabrina and towards the Devil. Sabrina reached out a hand to pull her aunt back, but both Ambrose and Aunt Hilda held her back.

The Dark Lord tilted his head to examine her aunt. “The price is not yours alone to pay. The entire Spellman family must—”

“No.” An unnerving silence followed the interruption. Everyone stunned that Aunt Zelda had cut into the Dark Lord’s statement.

Father Blackwood took a step forward, “Zelda,” he murmured, watching her fearfully. But the rest of his sentence was drowned out in the booming of thunder outside of the church.

“You dare!” Thunder rumbled through the church once more, but Sabrina watched in awe as her Aunt Zelda stood tall, not even flinching in the face of the Devil’s ire.

Zelda lifted her chin a notch, “as the high priest stated, I am the head of the Spellman household. They are my family, my responsibility. Their transgressions are mine. So, I alone will pay the price.”

“Sister Zelda,” and to Sabrina’s surprise, the Dark Lord seemed reluctant to dole out the punishment on her aunt alone. “It is not my wish to dispose of such a powerful and devout witch as yourself. You have centuries left, I had hoped for many more great things from you. Had plans for you.”

Sabrina’s head spun, ‘dispose of’? No, he couldn’t possible mean—

“It’s either me or no one.” Zelda stated firmly, meeting the Devil’s eyes directly.

Sabrina wanted to yell at her aunt. Aunt Zelda should be bowing, kneeling, something to show respect to this powerful, dark being she’d worshipped most her life. But instead she was antagonizing him, challenging him to accept only her as the recipient of price.

The Dark Lord shrugged, “plans can be changed. You alone will pay the price. But it will be higher because of it and your insolence.”

“Deal.”

“The price of your family’s actions is death.”

#caos #zelda spellman #sabrina spellman #hilda spellman #ambrose spellman #faustus blackwood #chilling adventures of sabrina #netflix #fan #spoilers #canon divergence #dark lord #harvey kinkle #multi chapter

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archiveofidentityconstellations · 5 years

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3, 5

3. Describe the differences between your first fanfic and your most recent fanfic.

Well, my first fanfic was for Tokyo Mew Mew, and I was eleven. It was a rip-off of “Three Men and A Little Baby” aka that 1980s movie with Tom Selleck. im feeling uncomfortable with how little i’ve changed lmao

In any case, eleven year old me didn’t have a clear idea of pacing and rhythm, and oftentimes used way too many exclamation points. But, even though I was flamed, some poor folks enjoyed the story enough because it was high-key ridiculous and riddled with nonsensical humor.

Some examples:

“Ryou!” she yelled, breaking the door in half.

Ryou looked up. He smirked. “Yes?”

Ichigo picked up a chair and threw it out the window. “I demand a raise!”

“Wow. Hulk much?”

She ripped a piece of wood off a desk. “Don’t joke, buster!”

“Ichigo! Stop!”

“Give me a raise!”

“And what if I don’t?”

Ichigo jumped on top of him and whispered, “I’ll kill you.”

And the artful trope of being handcuffed together:

“Momomiya! Is something wrong!” reprimanded the teacher.

“Yes, can I go to the school nurse?”

With the nurse…

“It seems like nothing is wrong with you,” the nurse told the couple. “But why are you stuck together?”

“Our therapist thinks we have anger problems!” exclaimed Ichigo.

“Yeah, and she’s only eleven!” Ryou screamed, referring about Pudding.

“Which we don’t!”

“That’s right!”

The nurse seemed a bit dizzy, then replied, “Maybe she thought you were a bit emotional and needed to understand each other.”

“Why would we would need to do that!?”

“We both understand that we hate each other!”

The nurse smiled. “See, you’re already understanding each other!”

“ARRGGHHHHH!” they cried.

The nurse looked puffed and frazzled. When she got a hold of herself she urged, “Well, if there is anything I can do please tell me.”

“Absolutely nothing at all,” Ryou brushed her away.

Ichigo turned to go but stopped. “Actually,” she turned.

“Yes?” The poor nurse asked.

“Do you have a saw?”

“Be careful,” cautioned Ryou.

“I’m being as careful as I can!” Ichigo snapped.

“What if you chop my hand off?”

“Oh, that’s all right! Now quit complaining!”

“Look, why don’t I use the saw? I’m stronger than you.”

“Then you will chop my hand off!”

And the like.

I went through a stage in which everything had to be ~beautiful~ and ~symbolic~ and basically ~hard to understand~ which is still my Achilles heel. The need to be poetic about things, I mean. Nowadays I’m learning to be concise and say exactly what I mean, so I think my writing is better for it.

As for my most recent fic, some poor folks like it because it’s ridiculous and riddled with nonsensical humor. What can I say ¯\_(ツ)_/¯

Example:

Bruce supposed the only thing left to do was to sit and wait for Tim to approach him. He could hold off on his “nineteen is quite young to be getting married” speech for at least several months. He was a patient man.

“Alright then, Som Tum.” He turned to go. He paused at the doorway, looking over his shoulder. “Anything else?"

Tim bit his lip, looking at the man helplessly.

Bruce held himself very still.

It was important to always be accommodating to others’ needs when the time arose. Bruce found that very little external stimuli caused people to feel more comfortable when confessing, and thus admit to details they would suppress had not been for the general laid-back atmosphere.

Tim was holding himself very still as well, looking unsure and (Bruce couldn’t help thinking so) all the more young for it. Instantly he thought back on the five-foot-nothing kid on his doorstep, hair just a tad too long to be fashionable and bangs in his eyes.

"Batman needs a Robin,” he had pleaded, hand on Bruce’s forearm.

The man in the suit–more boy, really–resembled that image more than Bruce had realized, and he was decidedly all the more uncomfortable for it.

“Yes,” Tim whispered, voice low enough that Bruce’s breath nearly caught. He forced himself to breathe out of his nostrils. No matter what happened, no matter what Tim told him, Bruce was going to remain calm. What happened in this office would be dealt with, and Bruce could help Tim navigate his way out of the scenario he erroneously found himself in.

(Inwardly, Bruce scoffed. Nineteen. Really.)

Tim hadn’t said anything else, so Bruce slowly turned himself around.

Several minutes passed, Tim looking at the man he had known as a father for several years, brow furrowed in consideration

“What else?” Bruce finally said. He let his voice soften. “What else do you need?”

Tim met his eyes. Bruce’s fists clenched.

So young.

“…The roti."

What?

"What?”

“The roti bread?” Tim repeated. “I was thinking maybe the zucchini but no, I definitely want the roti."

Bruce stood there, adrenaline seeping out of his bones.

"That’s it?” he asked brusquely, not a little annoyed to be put through the emotional ringer in under five minutes.

“Yeah,” Tim nodded. He almost beamed at the thought of the upcoming food. “That’s it. Thanks, Bruce!”

“Don’t mention it,” he growled, marching out the office.

Honestly I don’t see TOO much of a difference 😅😂😂😂😂😂 I love my nonsense and nonsense loves me

5. You’ve posted a fic anonymously. How would someone be able to guess that you’d written it?

I have no idea. I’ve had one or two people tell me that they read an anonymous work and were pretty sure it was me, but I have no idea what clued them on. Practically all of my work IS anonymous, so… ¯\_(ツ)_/¯

I’m going to pose the question to those who are “in the know”: how did y'all know?

Thanks for the question!

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preciousmetals0 · 4 years

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China’s Valentine’s Gift; Earnings All a-Twitter

China’s Valentine’s Gift; Earnings All a-Twitter:

China’s Valentine’s Day Gift

Well color me happy, the market is on a four-day winning streak!

Following on the heels of yesterday’s impressive payrolls data, the major market indexes are retesting all-time high territory. Today’s driver was news that China will cut retaliatory tariffs on some U.S. goods in half.

What’s more, the adjustments will take place on February 14. That’s one heck of a Valentine’s Day present, President Xi Jinping. I’m sure President Trump really appreciates it.

According to China’s Ministry of Finance (not to be confused with the Ministry of Silly Walks), the tariffs were slashed to “advance the healthy and stable development of China-U.S. trade.” Not the warmest of Valentine’s Day cards, but considering the pair had more than a yearlong argument … it will do.

The next steps in U.S.-China trade relations now depend on how further talks proceed. China noted that it hopes to collaborate with the Trump administration to get rid of all tariff increases.

To quote Harold Zidler from Moulin Rouge!: “Everything’s going so well!”

The Takeaway:

Is it time to ’Murica things up around here a little bit?

I think it is.

I’ve said it since the beginning: All that holds the U.S. economy back are the trade war tariffs. We saw that pressure ease up a bit at the beginning of the year with the signing of the “phase 1” trade deal. And now, we should see it ease even further as trade relations between the world’s two biggest economies continue to normalize.

That calls for a nice loud “Ooh-rah!” And we’re seeing it in the markets today. (I can’t be the only one with the Hulk Hogan theme song in my head right now, brother.)

The Dow, the S&P 500 and the Nasdaq are all inching closer to all-time high territory, as Wall Street cheers falling risks to volatility and more normalcy in global trade relations.

Let’s hope it stays that way. (Don’t jinx it, Mr. Great Stuff!)

Now, I won’t say there aren’t still risks involved here. It’s quite possible that China is pushing harder for a trade war resolution due to the economic impact of the Wuhan coronavirus. I’d bet money on it.

Clearly, the U.S. has the upper hand. The pieces are now in place for America to come out on top of this long-winded, whimpering trade war.

We’re on the verge of a whole new America — a country stronger and more durable than China can shake a stick at. America 2.0, if you will.

And when it comes to finding where to invest in America’s future, no one has a head start like Paul Mampilly. In fact, he just released a video interview where he lays out his battle plan detailing the best way to invest in America 2.0.

If you click here now, you can learn how you could benefit from Paul Mampilly’s No. 1 stock to buy for the new America.

The Good: For the Birds

Who would’ve thought that Twitter Inc. (NYSE: TWTR) would emerge as the “choice of a new generation” in social media?

That may exaggerate things a bit, but Twitter’s latest trip to the earnings confessional was certainly impressive. Yes, earnings missed expectations by $0.04 per share, but revenue topped $1 billion for the first time. And daily active users came in at 152 million — blowing past Wall Street’s estimates.

During a call with investors, CEO Jack Dorsey said that he sees “Twitter more as an interest network [rather] than a social network.” I think Dorsey sells Twitter short with this statement.

Think about it.

Facebook Inc. (Nasdaq: FB) struggles with numerous social issues and antitrust investigations. Snap Inc. (NYSE: SNAP) is still trying to monetize the younger generations. Meanwhile, Twitter took action to clean up its image on irresponsible advertising and user-base toxicity.

Twitter clearly isn’t perfect, but it’s a far cry from Facebook, which has barely given token responses to either issue. As Twitter continues along this path, I expect it to gain even more market share in social media.

The Bad: Hitting the Wall

I’ve never been a fan of Peloton Interactive Inc. (Nasdaq: PTON). The company’s video-imbued stationary bikes just don’t appeal to me at all. I’d rather ride (or preferably run) outside.

But I get Peloton’s popularity. I also get that these kinds of workout fads eventually die. Judging from the company’s recent quarterly report, the company isn’t dead, but it’s seeing a slowdown … one that I think will accelerate this year.

By the numbers, the company beat earnings expectations but missed on revenue. Sales growth slowed from a 103% gain in the fiscal first quarter to a 72% gain in the second quarter. Subscriber numbers rocketed 96% higher on the quarter, but that was still a slower pace than the first quarter’s 103% spike.

These numbers all look rather impressive, but there’s some important context to be aware of. This slower growth occurred not only during the holiday shopping season, it happened during peak workout and New Year’s resolution season.

Investors punished PTON shares today for slowing growth. I wonder how much they’ll punish the stock once everyone gives up their subscriptions this month. We all know most resolutions to get healthy die a horrible death in February. I foresee those Peloton subscriptions following the same path.

Fiscal third-quarter numbers will be a wake-up call for PTON investors on the reality of this fitness fad.

The Ugly: Bump and Run

Thanks to Tesla Inc. (Nasdaq: TSLA), I get to use one of my favorite words twice in one week: flabbergasted.

During TSLA’s three-day run from last Friday through this Tuesday — when Tesla stock surged nearly 40% and short sellers lost billions — more than 22,000 investors bought TSLA for the first time on free-trading app Robinhood.

I was floored … nay, I was flabbergasted! Essentially, a bunch of millennial “under-the-desk” investors (Robinhood’s primary demographic) not only spiked TSLA stock, but also royally burned short sellers. It was as delicious as it was scary.

However, TSLA is now paying the price for this little bump and run. The stock has plunged roughly 23% in the past two days, effectively resetting this week’s gains. Not only that, but we’re seeing the resolution of a technical pattern called — what else? — a bump and run.

I won’t go into the technical details (you can find an explanation here), but the chart below essentially illustrates the pattern:

If Tesla follows the traditional bump-and-run pattern, temporary support lies in the $600 to $650 region. Then, once the bargain-hunting dries up, the shares will dive further due to more profit-taking. Many investors are up 100%, 200% … even 400% on their TSLA positions right now. They won’t let those gains go to waste.

Now, I said “traditional,” but Tesla is far from traditional. The stock has a cult-like following. In other words, buying support could hold on long enough to invalidate this pattern, or at least drag it out for some time.

To break out of this reversal, Tesla needs more good news: deliveries, production numbers, new model news, et cetera. Bargain hunters looking to catch a falling knife won’t cut it.

Welcome back to another edition of Great Stuff’s Reader Feedback!

In this weekly column, I read your emails and … provide feedback. It’s kind of in the name, huh? My wife says I tend to overexplain things … I think she’s on to something.

Anyway, let’s dive right in to the ol’ mailbag!

First up, we have Gary F. and his take on Tesla:

Read your e-article today on Tesla earnings report, et al. results. Let me share: I am not a bear or bull. I am a trader. I have mostly taken the bull side when trading Tesla and always with options trades. I have recorded many profitable trades over the last six months, especially when I was patient when entering with buying call options or hedging with put options.

My bias has been to keep a long call position — even when buying puts or placing a spread in the options with consideration of the wide price ranges Tesla stock has traded in over that period.

Got to love the volatility. I am strictly a price movement/timing specialist trader, but do enjoy reading some of the rhetoric and banter between the bulls and bears. It is useful to know their position views. This along with the analysts that feed both sides of the market.

What I also know is that earnings reports and forecasts based upon them are the MOST inaccurate way and misleading way to judge a business. That in terms of the business as a profitable entity with sustainable growth and market viability.

Tesla is no different in that regard from any other company. There simply is no uniform reporting method used or required by the SEC beyond some standard category numbers. Therefore, a company can use any of dozens of accounting (legal) reporting methods when submitting data. Talk about biased reporting!

Tesla is likely to stay on an upward price bias for the remainder of the next three quarters of 2020. BUT, not without some large price adjustments along the way.

Keep feeding the bears so that profitable trade opportunities will exist repeatedly in 2020.

This guy trades. Gary, you are dead-on with your “large price adjustments” remark … especially since you sent this in before Tesla’s plunge this week. I’m not sold on the upward bias for 2020 yet (as I noted above), but if you’re trading options, that hardly matters.

Thanks for writing in!

Garfield W. also wrote in about Tesla:

I love the way the info was presented. I do know that TSLA will hit $1,000 shortly, no doubt about that. Where will the rally end? Maybe after it hits $4,000 a share. Who knows? But what options (insurance) do we have to hedge this one? What goes up must eventually come down. I look forward to your thoughts on this.

Sorry, Garfield, but it looks like you’re going to have to wait a bit longer for $1,000 TSLA. (I’m trying really hard not to make lasagna jokes, by the way. I’m sure you’ve heard them all.)

As for options insurance? There are two simple options (Options on options? Ugh.): First, you could buy TSLA puts as a way to profit from any declines in the shares. Second, if you own TSLA stock, you could sell covered calls to earn some income while you wait for the stock to rebound.

As always, be sure to check with your broker and do your homework before trading any options, however — and be sure to consult Banyan Hill expert Chad Shoop!

Finally, Mike B. explains it all on “socially responsible” investing:

This week, you asked for insight into the responses received with respect to how much social responsibility plays a part in investing. I am one of the respondents who answered “Not at all.”

Perhaps the responses that you received are framed, based upon interpretation of the question asked. I interpreted the question to ask if I considered a company’s social responsibility in making investment decisions. My answer is, emphatically, “NO.” The only “green” that concerns me is the dollars generated in my bank account.

If a company has a sound business plan, a strong management team and operates with a solid potential for growth within its market, I will invest regardless if that company has a “progressive” mission or a “traditional” mission.

That is why my portfolio has both big oil and renewable energy companies, and both tobacco product producers and biotech firms developing methods to treat cancers. Turning greenbacks into more greenbacks is what I consider “green investing.”

Thanks for writing in, Mike! Your perspective is dead-on. I was somewhat interested in Great Stuff readers’ opinions on corporate social responsibility, but more interested in whether “green” companies were a growing part of their portfolios for investment reasons. You know, turning green into greenbacks.

Note to self: Be more careful with poll wording in the future. Thanks again!

If you wrote in and I didn’t get to you, it might be because you cursed too $%*?@#! much. I still really appreciate the feedback, even if they won’t let me publish it.

And if you haven’t written in yet … what’s stopping you? Drop me a line at [email protected] and let me know how you’re doing out there in this crazy bull market.

That’s a wrap for today. But if you’re still craving more Great Stuff, you can check us out on social media: Facebook, and Twitter.

Until next time, good trading!

Regards,

Joseph Hargett

Great Stuff Editor, Banyan Hill Publishing

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goldira01 · 4 years

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