#sorry for my gibberish my brain is running on low connection

[meownotgood]

writing would be so joyous without the plague of the Compare Self to Others debuff

[l0vew0rm]

dance with me ( eula lawrence )

synopsis: fate has a funny way of granting your wishes when you least expect it—like a dance with the infamous reconnaissance captain of the knights of favonius. pairing: eula lawrence x gn!reader word count: 1.9k warnings: alcohol consumption  inspired by: dance with me by beabadoobee

a/n: just a small piece i’ve been meaning to write for my beloved main. <3 i’ve loved eula ever since getting her by chance and i’m glad i finally got to write something for her. (bonus: this fic is loosely connected to my previous work wine so if you manage to catch the small reference i’ve written in you’re cool and i love you)

the knights of favonius had decided to host a banquet and an accompanying ball to celebrate the arrival of a diplomatic delegation from fontaine, and unsurprisingly, eula was nowhere to be found.

“i have no time for such frivolous affairs,” was the spindrift knight’s sharp and honest reply to your question of whether or not she would be in attendance. “and besides, seeing as my reputation has a habit of preceding me, i’m quite sure the acting grand master would be content to send me off elsewhere where i can’t sully the good name of the knights by simply being there.”

while you weren’t necessarily surprised at her response, it still didn’t make it any less disappointing for you to hear it, nor was it any less disappointing for her to not be there among the crowd of knights and diplomats you’d been surrounded with all night. despite this, you tried your best not to let it get to you, even if your mind did occasionally linger towards the thought of the spindrift knight, among other things.

shaking your head, you try to distract yourself by surveying your surroundings. glancing upwards, you’re met with the brilliant light of two golden chandeliers that hang from the ceiling, warmly radiating a bright yet soft glow that accentuates the elegant attire that your fellow attendants are currently wearing. at the opposite end of the banquet hall is a string quartet seated atop a small stage, providing mellow background music to the abundance of excited chatter being exchanged between knights and diplomats alike. in the back of your mind, you’re very briefly reminded of all the fairytales you used to read as a child of grand balls filled with beautiful princes and princesses, but your thoughts quickly dissipate the moment you feel your shoulder be tapped and a familiar voice hum low in your ear.

“good evening, sir kaeya,” you greet the blue-haired cavalry captain with a smile and a raise of your goblet. “i trust you’ve been having a good time tonight?”

kaeya playfully tsks at you. “how many times must i tell you that we’re well past the need for such formalities?” he grins, though he returns your gesture by raising his goblet of wine—which you note is practically filled to the brim to the point of overflowing—at you. “though to answer your question, yes, i have been having a lovely time indeed.”

“that’s good to hear.”

the two of you start exchanging chit-chat, and continue to do so for some time. kaeya’s halfway through telling you about his curious encounter with a drunk lieutenant earlier in the evening when he pauses at the sound of the string quartet beginning to transition into a waltz. it only takes one shared glance between the two of you before the captain graciously extends a hand to you with a smile on his face.

“care to dance?”

you smile back at him, and take his hand. “i’d love to.”

after placing your goblets elsewhere, the two of you proceed to the center of the banquet hall, taking each other’s hands and beginning to dance to the music of the string quartet. everything should have seemed perfect—the atmosphere was merry, the crowd was lively, and you and kaeya were dancing gracefully across the room like a pair of professional ballroom dancers. but despite all that was happening around you, something just…

“is there something bothering you?”

you blink up at kaeya, his star-shaped pupil looking upon you with concern. “pardon?”

“i apologize, since i know it’s rude to assume,” kaeya begins, but the sudden shift to a shit-eating grin on his face tells you he isn’t one bit sorry for what he’s about to say next, “but you’ve seemed pretty preoccupied all night.”

“it’s nothing, i just—”

“you miss the reconnaissance captain, don’t you?”

kaeya’s grin only grows wider at the sudden flush that overtakes your face. “i knew it.” the cavalry captain watches you try and stammer up excuses, but after a minute of nothing but gibberish escaping your mouth you decide it’s better to give up and give in. “i wasn’t surprised that she wasn’t attending tonight, but i… i wanted her to. i wanted…”

“you wanted her to dance with you?”

“as if she’d ever dance with some amateur like me,” you try and joke, but it falls flat with the weight of your somber tone.

“you’d be surprised to know how eager she is to do so, actually,” kaeya nearly fails to suppress his laughter at the sight of your eyes widening to the size of saucers at his remark. “eager in her own vengeful little way, of course.”

“and how do you know that?”

“i just do.”

you’re just about to start going off on a tirade before the sound of the cathedral bell rudely interrupts you—that, and the suspicious smile that lights kaeya’s face hearing it.

“ah, just in time,” he says, and you quirk a distrustful brow at him. “what? don’t you know what time it is?”

“no?”

“why, if i recall correctly, the reconnaissance captain and her scouts should be back from their mission at around this time. i could be wrong, but seeing as i was in charge of having personally arranged the mission in question…”

“and what do you mean to accomplish by telling me this?”

“that’s up for you to decide.”

the music comes to a stop. kaeya gently lifts your hand to kiss it goodbye. “farewell. i hope you have a pleasant rest of the evening.”

“kaeya, what—”

with a playful smile and a wink, kaeya walks away, leaving you and disappearing into the crowd.

after downing a few more goblets of wine to quell the growing unease in your chest, you decide to call it quits for the night.

outside, the streets are quiet, almost eerily so, with not a single sound to be heard except for the evening breeze whistling a bitingly cold tune. you express your gratitude towards the few passersby you encounter by waving politely at them—at least, to the best of your ability considering your slightly tipsy state.

you continue onwards with your walk to nowhere until you find yourself at the plaza. you wander over to one of the many stone benches in the area and take a seat, sighing in relief at your legs finally being able to catch a break from all the stairs you had just climbed. the warm glow of the street lights surrounding you, lovely as they are, are dim; so dim, in fact, that you fail to notice the sight of a shadow approaching you from the corner of your eye.

“and here i thought you were above some dimwitted drunkard too inebriated to care about their safety being exposed out in the open. hmph. to think i taught you to be better than this.”

you nearly fall over in shock at the familiar voice that interrupts the slow slurring of your thoughts. “eula?”

“who else would it be?” the spindrift knight huffs, crossing her arms over her chest as she draws nearer to you. you pray to barbatos that she assumes the flush on your cheeks is from the wine and not the fact your heart is threatening to beat out of your chest at the sight of her.

“but really, just what are you doing out here by yourself so late at night? aren’t you supposed to be attending that banquet over at the goth grand hotel? gods, i practically made a fool out of myself barging in there unannounced just to look for you! and the fact you had the audacity to worry me when i couldn’t find you… mark my words, i’ll make sure to—”

“you… looked for me?”

“what? just what kind of question is that? did you think that i wouldn’t look for you?”

“...no?”

“hmph! preposterous! absolutely outrageous! the fact you’ve had the audacity to not only wander off elsewhere without me to protect you, and for you to assume my actions and feelings unprompted… you’ll pay for this!”

you chalk it up to the alcohol meddling with your brain, but in that moment, the wildest idea pops up in your head. a wide, dopey grin etches itself onto your face as you lift a hand out to the reconnaissance captain standing before you.

“say… what if i paid for my transgression with a dance?”

the look on eula’s face instantly makes you regret your words. this time, in addition to your flushed cheeks, the blood in your veins runs ice cold with dread and embarrassment, and you quickly withdraw your hand from her reach to sheepishly rub the back of your neck with it.

“or maybe we could just settle the score with some good ol’ sparring, hah… m’sorry that i asked you that so boldly, i know that you don’t take kindly to—”

“i’ll take it. let’s dance.”

you blink. “what?”

“you wanted to pay for your misdeeds, yes? i accept your means of payment. now get up. let’s dance.”

“but i don’t—”

“know how to dance? then i’ll teach you.” you once again chalk it up to the alcohol, because you refuse to accept any other explanation for the sudden soft shift in eula’s tone. hesitantly, you get up from your seat to approach her, gingerly holding her gloved hand and trying not to let your breath audibly hitch at the feeling of her hand on your waist.

“grip my waist a little tighter,” eula instructs you, repositioning your hand against her side. “i won’t break. now follow my lead. one, two, three, one, two, three…”

the first few minutes the two of you dance is painfully awkward. all of your previous grace and elegance from that earlier dance with kaeya have all but disappeared, your dancing skills reduced to nothing and your movements limited to stiff shuffling and careless swaying. eula seems to catch on to this, judging by the way her grip on your shoulder tightens ever so slightly—not enough to cause significant pain or discomfort, but enough to steady you as the two of you waltz across the plaza together.

eventually, the two of you manage to fall into a slow and steady rhythm, dancing along to the sound of your shoes clacking against the cobbled plaza floor. impulsively—you make a mental note to apologize to her for it tomorrow when you’ve sobered up—you lean in and bury your face into the crook of her neck, pressing your bodies together closer than you’ve ever been.

“i… have something to confess,” eula tells you, and you hum into her shoulder.

“mm?”

“i wasn’t supposed to return from my mission until dawn, but i requested i be able to return early, because i…”

eula’s hand lets go of your shoulder, and her arms slowly begin to wrap around you in an uncharacteristically warm embrace.

“i wanted to dance with you.”

your breath hitches, but it quickly melts away as you smile into her shoulder. for a moment, you’re tempted to say it—the three words you’ve longed to tell the beautiful reconnaissance captain you’ve loved since the moment you laid eyes on her—but in the end, you choose to sink deeper into her arms.

“thank you.”

eula lets out a disgruntled huff, but the look of love and care in her sunset-colored eyes says otherwise.

[castawaybarnes]

drunk words, sober thoughts. [timothée chalamet]

summary: best friend timmy comforts you after a breakup.

warnings: alcohol consumption and just a little bit of smut if you squit!

the things this gif makes me wanna do,,,,,,,,, someone call the local pastor, because i need jesus.

The vague ‘get to mine as soon as u can please’ text had Timothée worried out of his mind. His thoughts raced from one bad scenario to another until he couldn’t even think at all.

When you sent the text you were already two shot in. Your asshole of a boyfriend dumped you just a few hours prior, yet you weren’t sure if the drinks were to drown the sadness or to celebrate. So naturally, when Timmy dramatically burst through the door he was surprised to see you with a wide grin, holding a vodka bottle in the kitchen.

“(Y/N) for Christ’s sake you had me worried.” He exclaimed as he stepped into your apartment, taking off his coat. “Did you really text me at 2PM to come and drink with you?” He raised an eyebrow. “What’s the occasion anyway?” He took the shot glass you had poured for him and raised it, waiting for you to meet him halfway.

“To being single!” You giggled as your glass met his, and quickly threw it back, letting the familiar burning sensation run down your throat.

“Wait, when did this happen?”

“This morning.”

“You don’t seem very upset about it, (Y/N).”

“Well it’s either the alcohol buzzing, or my brain just hasn’t yet processed the image of my boyfriend fucking someone else right in front of me.” You explain trying to keep a straight face as the events of this morning freshly run through your mind.

“Fuck, (Y/N), I’m sorry.” Timothée sympathized as he stepped forward and wrapped his arms around your petite frame. You leaned into his touch, biting down on your lip as you felt a slight sting in your nose from holding back tears.

“It’s fine, I’m fine.” You forced a smile as you pulled away from him. Taking the bottle back into your hands, you looked back at Timmy. “Well, this isn’t going to finish itself, you know. Now let’s get drunk and let me cry on your shoulder.”

First you were angry. Throwing any little object you could without damaging your property too much. Letting out all that pent up emotion really helped. Timmy watched you carefully as you swayed around the room rambling on about how shitty of a person your ex really was. Timothée made a mental note to not drink as much as you, just to keep you safe, seeing as now you were stumbling over every piece of furniture you owned.

“(Y/N), be careful please!” He jumped up off your bed to catch you just in time. You both sat down on the fuzzy carpet of your bedroom, leaning against the frame of your bed. Keeping your arms on the neck of your bottle you let your head rest on Timmy’s shoulder.

Then you were sad. The tears came unexpectedly and it didn’t seem like they were planning on stopping. You let go of your bottle, which Timmy was fast to catch and put aside, and you wrapped both your arms around Timothée’s shoulders as you continued crying into his chest.

He hated seeing you like this. He hated seeing you anything else but happy, because that’s what you deserved. He listened to you complain, which in all fairness paired with you sobbing sounded like gibberish, and slowly rubbed up and down you back in an attempt to calm you down. 

And lastly you found it funny. It wasn’t until your sobs turned into low chuckles did he pull away. Timothée looked down at you with eyebrows raised, not understanding the sudden change of mood. Your chuckles soon turned into uncontrollable laughter and Timmy couldn’t help but join you.

“God, I feel like an idiot. I’m sitting here crying over a guy cheating on me when I was the one lying about being in love!” You drunkly confessed.

“What do you mean? You were together for five months.” Timmy questioned.

“You wanna know a secret?” You completely disregarded his question. “All the time we were together, every single we had sex, I was thinking of someone else.” You told him and then put you index finger to your lips and then burst out laughing again.

Timmy, however, wasn’t laughing. He sat there with his mouth slightly opened trying to process what you just confessed. A slight smile tugged at the corner of his mouth as deep down he hoped the guy you were thinking of was him. That’s when he decided that letting you drink yourself into oblivion wasn’t the best idea. So he got up and left your room, receiving a wince from you because of the loss of contact, but he soon came back with a two bottles of water.

“We need to sober you up, I know how cranky you get with your morning hangovers.” He smiled, earning a groan from you.

“But I don’t wanna, Timmy!”

“Stop being a baby and drink up.” He handed you a bottle, which you took with an over-dramatic pout on your face.

“You’re the worst.”

“Yeah, but you love me.” The statement caused you to giggle.

It was around 4AM by the time you sobered up. You were still slightly tipsy, however, you didn’t feel like puking your stomach contents out, which was good. You currently laid on your bed, as you rested your head on Timmy’s chest, one arm draped over him.

“Was it me?” He spoke quietly.

“What?”

“Nevermind...” He sighed.

“Timothée, come on, you can tell me anything.” You assured him, raising your head to look up at him,

“Do you remember what you told me tonight?” You looked him in the eyes as you searched your brain for the answer to the question. Your mouth fell slightly opened when you realized what he was talking about, you felt a blush creeping on your cheeks, yet you didn’t want the embarrassment of admitting it, so you simply shook your head.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about Tims, I was drunk, probably blabbering on about nonsense.” You tried your best to lie, but Timmy felt how you body stiffened on top of him. And whether it was all him or the alcohol still buzzing in his system, he flipped you over in one swift motion, so that now he would be on top.

His legs straddled either sides of your hips, as one hand went next to your head to support him, the other making its way to your cheek. You were completely thrown off by his movements, but you weren’t resisting them. His face was dangerously close to yours, feeling his breath against your lips, you didn’t know what to do with yourself. His gaze kept falling from your eyes to your lips and your entire body felt like it was on fire.

“Did you think of me, (Y/N)? Did you think of me when you were with him?” He whispered against your lips, subconsciously making you squeeze your thighs together. Timothée let his hand wander down your cheek, along your jawline as his thumb went over your lips. “Did you think of me when he kissed you?” His eyes were fixated on your lips as if he was debating whether or not he should kiss you right now. “Do you know how many times I seen you two and wished it was me holding your hand? Kissing your jaw?” He lowered himself and attached his lips to the skin of  your lower jaw, leaving along a trail of wet kisses. “Feeling you...” He continued, this time letting his hand wander down your body as he attached his lips to your neck. “Fucking you...” He whispered as his hand brushed over your clothed heat, earning a shaky breath from you. “Did you think of me when he was inside you?”  He continued to tease you through your underwear.

“Timothée...” You moaned quietly. Your hands finding their way to his hair, softly pulling him up to finally connect your lips to his.

It was gentle at first, Timothée holding back, as if he didn’t just feel how wet you were through your underwear. As your hands traveled further down his body he finally put more force into the kiss. Slipping his tongue past your lips, it was all tongues and teeth at this point, neither of you managing to hold back any longer.

“Of course it was you Timmy... It’s always been you.”

[miguels-talons]

Robbie's Awakening Part 2

(Ey look at me, actually posting more parts of a fanfic I’ve written. I normally don’t post more than one part of a fanfic here so let’s just get this over with:

The hunger is what awakens him. The pain of hunger in his stomach and mind and entire mind and he has to eat he needs to he’s so hungry-!

His eyes snap open and his nostrils flare. He’s somewhere else and he can’t move. But, he can “think” more clearly… his brain doesn’t hurt as much. He can process a tad better… he can’t move and the reason why is because something is around his wrists and they’re holding him down to something hard. A… a chair. Yes, that’s what it’s called, he thinks.

The room around him has all shades of red, going from blood red to a shade of the brightest pink he’d ever seen. But there’s nothing to eat. No flesh. No meat. No nothing. He’s so hungry, though…

A noise comes from nearby and his nostrils flare once more, taking in the new smells. He had smelt these smells, though. And oh does he love the smells that he is currently smelling… they make him even more hungry and he can tell that their flesh and meat and blood and his mouth is watering because he’s sssoooo hungry.

He moans and groans and hisses and growls, pulling at whatever is around his wrists to try and capture the flesh and meat again. His teeth grind together and he can feel another pop from hair gums, falling into his lap. As he continues to pull his wrist begins to stretch, skin begins to tear. And he knows that that should hurt but really, it only.. tickles. He can’t but laugh and when the sound of his own laughter reaches back to his ears it confuses him. That hissing growl can’t be his laugh. Can it?

“Oh god,” he hears the shrieking again and the sound tears at his ears, his mind. But he can just recognize the gibberish noise to be words… he can’t tell what they mean, but he knows they're… words It makes him snarl louder. “He’s awake….”

“What the hell do we do with it?” Screeched the one that is most pleasantly smelling. It’s smell is so hypnotic and it makes his stomach to little flips and rolls and it tightens and groans. “We can’t leave him like this.”

“Maybe we could try and talk to him?” Screeched the first one and he prefers it’s voice because it’s softer and less harsh on his ears. “Maybe he doesn’t recognize us, yet.”

“Do you really think talking to it will help?” Shrieked the second and he hates it’s voice. It’s too loud and brash and has strange sounds to its way it speaks.

“Well we won’t know unless we try,” screeched the first and he has to flinch because for some reason it’s voice is more rough than usual. There are footsteps, much louder than the low him he’d been hearing this entire time and now he can pick up the sound of a constant beat, a tiny thud. It’s going fast in the first blob that appears in his sights and it’s going a tad slower in the second. It’s a pulsating and beating noise. He likes it.

The blobs stop in front of him. “What if Anti finds out we did this?” Shrieked the second and he can see the little pulsating thing in the blob’s center grow quicker. “He’s going to be pissed.”

“He won’t find out!” Screeched the first louder than usual and he draws his head back, snarling softly. Then the blobs draw nearer and he can almost reach them, he just has to be a little closer- there’s another tearing sound that comes from his wrists and the top layer of muscles are snapping.

“Robbie?” Shrieked the first blob and its voice is lower than usual, softer and he likes it at this volume. It’s easy on his ears. And that sound, the word it shrieked… it sounds almost… familiar. It makes him jolt because he feels he has to respond to it. “Can you… can you understand me?”

He can but he can’t and he doesn’t know if he can communicate that because he doesn’t want to- he’s too hungry he wants to eat- he growls in answer anyway, snapping his teeth together. He feels another tooth fall into his lap and a warm liquid going down his cheek and chin.

“I think he did!” The blob shrieked and he growls at the loud noise, teeth smashing together once more. He pulls forward more and there’s a louder and more wet snap as the late tendons connecting his wrists to the rest of the arms breaks off. Now only the bones remain. “Okay, Robbie,” he pauses in his pulling when he hears the noise, “it’s me, Marvin!”

And he feels as though he should know that other noise because it’s familiar and it tugs at what he thinks is his brain. He tilts his head and snorted in question, jaw falling open a tad wider. There’s a loud clapping noise and a grunt of being impressed.

“Well I’ll be damned,” screeched the second blob. “He may actually be able to understand.”

The first blob- or, Marvin- moves even closer and even though he feels as though he should know this thing he needs to eat and it’s the perfect meal right in front of him taunting him to no end- another tear and then a crunch and he’s leaping from the chair, letting out a loud howl. He lands on top of Marvin, hissing and growling and snapping.

“Robbie! No!” The second blob shrieked from behind and he’s expecting to be hit away. But the blow never comes and he’s still on top of Marvin who’s breathing heavily. He can smell the fear coming off in waves.

“Wait, Henrik,” Marvin said and it’s no longer a screech but barely above a harsh whisper. He leans in closer and some of his saliva drops from between his cracked teeth. “Just wait.”

“Why would i-”

“I said wait!”

He continues to smell at the blob that calls itself Marvin, more drool only forming in his mouth at his smell. But, maybe he shouldn’t. He’s starving he needs to eat- but, the name. He’s growing confused and he wants to bite down but he doesn’t want to and-

There’s a pained gasp and his teeth are clamped around the blob’s upper area. He whimpers, wanting to let go but his teeth won’t unclamp and he can already taste the blood gathering in his mouth and he wants to continue by ripping the skin off.

“It’s okay, Robbie,” Marvin stammered, voice breaking in and out constantly. It’s in pain and he can tell because he can hear and smell this fact. “I made you this- this way. I- I deserve this.”

He pauses once more, the words actually processing in his brain. His jaws slowly release as he forces them to do so and he pulls his face from the blob, tilting his head with a small noise of confusion. It’s almost whine and he’s so conflicted.

He’s hit off a moment later even as Marvin protested against it. “He stopped!” It yelled at the other blob. He lands on the floor nearby and he’s not happy now. He growls softly, rolling back into his stomach and pushing onto all fours.

“He bit you!” The other blob screeched and it still sounds like a rough tone. He snarls at it, finding it to be grinding against his already hurting brain. He darts at the unknown yet threatening blob but he’s only kicked away once more. “Look at it, Marvin! That’s not Robbie! That’s a shell of him!”

“No! He understood me! He stopped biting me!” Marvin shouted in return and pushed to its feet, hunched over in what he assumes to be pain. He clicks his teeth and has to force himself to his feet, hard to crawl without his hands attached. “So stop it!”

He growls, grinding his teeth together as he takes a wobbly step towards them.

“Henrik is sorry for what he did, Robbie,” Marvin stated and he pauses, hearing that word. Those two words, actually. He knows “Henrik”. It sounds… familiar. He groans when his head pounds worse and he holds his wrists on ether side of his face, hissing softly as he shakes his head. “Can you… can you talk?”

He doesn’t know. He doesn’t know if could speak right. He doesn’t know if he will ever be able to. He doesn’t remember how. He’s hungry and confused and everything is hurting right now. But… maybe he could try. Maybe he could get food out of it…

He just doesn’t know what to say. So he says the first thing that comes to his pain filled mind, or, tries to: “M… Maaaarriiinnnnn.” It’s uncoordinated, completely slurred together and not said with any of the ease that Marvin and the other has when speaking.

He hears Marvin gasp and it’s arms fly from its side to its face. The other is lettin off waves of shock, both changing to a lighter shade.

“H- he said my name!” Marvin exclaimed and it begins to come closer but he growls. He doesn’t know if they should get too close. He’s still hungry, unable to control himself well. So it stops but still seems to be happy. “Henrik, he said my name! He knows me!”

“I’ll be damned…” the other- Henrik screeched but it sounded less like a screech. “It does know you..”

“It’s okay, Robbie! We can help you now!” Marvin informed and steps closer again but he draws away, another tooth falling from his mouth and clicking across the floor.

“We’ll have to put those back in…” Henrik said and it’s voice isn’t a screech anymore, it’s a tolerable mutter that his ears can stand. “And reattach the wrists…”

“Please, let me get closer,” Marvin said and has taken another step forward but he growls louder, shaking his head frantically but he’s already running forward, unable to stop himself. He’s too hungry and Marvin is food whether he likes it or not. “Robbie, no!”

He’s hit from the air as soon as he even lifts from the ground and he falls back down, letting out a roar of pain and his obvious suffering. “M- Maaaarrrrii-iiiinnnnn-” he tried again, withering on the cold floor even as his stomach burns and aches. There’s a choked sob from nearby before something stomps on the side of his head. The reds are fading once more. “Maaarrr- iiiinnnn-”

And then everything is gone.

(Yea I can’t stop writing about Robbie now. I’ve already gotten the next two parts done, too. I think I’ll post everyday, though. If I decide to continue posting them, anyways)

@magic-marvin-protection-patrol @robthezombie-support-squad @tylerscheid

Love me and my writing please I need validation

[overdrivels]

Could I request the soulmate AU! where all your scars appear on your soulmates body and vice versa with soldier 76? He has some big ass scars

….oh my god, I thought my fucking heart stopped when I read this. That hurts. This reminds me of another fic that I read at some point on AO3 and I can’t seem to remember the name of it. 

This is going onto the angst train because while I love soulmate!AUs, they’re always going to be a point of angst for me. Sorry, I’m driving this train without a license, and you’re going for a ride.

Scarred for Life (Drabble)

Many people found their scars to be a blessing–a sign that their soulmate existed and that they’re not alone in this world, that there’s someone special out there who is destined to be there for them forever and share their pain. So, it’s easy to understand why people are so desperate to find their fated other. Some never do; it’s a fact of life.

To increase those chances, sites where people posted their scars are common–rampant, almost, everyone hoping to find their match. There’s even an international database that tries to connect you to people by using their interactive application–you select the body parts your scars are on and describe them, and then you’ll be matched with your most likely candidates. It is fairly successful (barring the fact that not all people used this database).

Scarification, in particular, is a common (but morally dubious) trend, people paying upward of thousands of dollars to create something unique on themselves and  soulmate (once a point idle daydreams, but now you regard with disgust)–you didn’t indulge in the practice, didn’t have to, not with the way your soulmate so recklessly decorated their body with various injuries.

In the past, you, too, had once been fascinated by this ever since that first scar on your knee that you knew was not your’s. But when the scars became more and more frequent and in more conspicuous locations, your idealization turned into sour irritation. 

‘You’re so lucky!’

‘At least you know your soulmate’s out there!’

‘Your soulmate must be so hardcore!’

You hated those sorts of words. They wouldn’t be saying it if they saw how systematically these scars took over your body: across your arms, your back, your chest, your face–you took to concealing them with make-up. No one could tell they existed. 

Worst of all were the ones that circled the entirety of your legs, an uneven and jagged ring around the top of your knees–you have asked doctors about them and they, in their all their professional wisdom, could only give you and your soulmate their sincerest condolences. 

You didn’t really have an appetite for the longest time after that, almost certain your soulmate was dead in some terrible accident. It wasn’t until you finally met him that you realized that he was, indeed, very much alive. 

Although, you’ve been long acquainted with the man, you just didn’t know it. 

Soldier: 76 wakes with a pounding headache and a sour taste in his mouth. Not unusual, but unexpected given that he doesn’t remember having been drunk in the past how many hours. (He doesn’t very much like drinking any more anyway. He metabolizes the alcohol too quickly for it to do anything other than dehydrate him.) 

How many hours indeed?

“Oh,” you breathe from across the tiny space, wide-eyed and looking like you’ve seen a ghost. The yellow of the fading biotic canister dances off your face, highlighting the shadows beneath your eyes, and makes you seem sicklier than you probably are.

Snapping back to the reality at hand, you repeat, “Oh!”

And then you’re in his space, skittish, appraising hands running restlessly over his face, his chest, arms. He hates your fussing, but the pain debilitates him. He hisses whenever you press against something painful, and then you’re babbling apologies and inquiries that sound like just plain gibberish to him.

“Stop that.” 

Your hands stop their roaming, but you smooth one over his forehead, thumb stroking the skin. It’s significantly cooler, clammy, even, but he leans up into it nonetheless. It keeps the throbbing at bay, if only a little bit.

“What happened?”

There’s a pregnant pause that makes his ears ring–he wonders if it’s Lucio’s favorite ailment–before you answer with a question of your own.

“What do you remember?”

He doesn’t want to think. “Not much.” A half-lie. He remembers the ambush, he remembers going off alone contrary to the orders from the lumbering scientist in his ear, he remembers the cave-in.

But he doesn’t know why you’re here. You should’ve been in the ship, securing the payload. So how is he with you right now in a space that is nothing resembling a carrier?

“When you went in after Talon, I followed because I had the most maneuverability and was available at the time,” you explain. “Winston didn’t want to leave you alone.” 

Soldier quietly curses the primate. It figures he’d be sentimental enough not to let him do anything alone. Especially not when he suspects his identity. 

His face screws up in pain–it is too much work to pretend that this doesn’t bother him. But your soothing motions help. He just wishes you’d stop looking at him like that. Pitying, like the way someone would look at an injured animal.

He closes his eyes hard.

But the image wouldn’t leave him mind, and he has to bite back a frustrated groan. He’s not supposed to be coddled by you. Or anyone for that matter. He’s too old, but not old enough to be considered senile or helpless. Far from it.

He coughs, and the pounding in his head gains vigor that the rest of his body is so devoid of. 

It takes a little long for him to register–he must’ve suffered a concussion or something–but you touched his face. His bare face. 

His mask, where is it? He shoots straight up with a harsh gasp, and snatches your wrist tight, partially because he’s not in the mood to indulge your roaming touches and because the pain forces him to use you to steady himself. 

“My mask.” 

“Ow.”

You wince and grit your teeth when his grip tightens. Soldier doesn’t care, not when you’ve seen something that he’ll have a hell of a time explaining to everyone. Yes, he’s entirely aware that the scars make his face a mess, but not any less recognizable to anyone born in the past thirty or so years. You don’t meet his gaze, shaking your head slowly, nodding at the heap of gnarled metal that barely resembles his protective cover at his feet.

“The mask was broken, 76. Had to get it off, it was crushing you–you couldn’t breathe.” 

That explains the pain in his face. 

“Agent.” His tone is harsh, low, the urgency clear--threatening. “You cannot tell anyone what you saw. You cannot tell anyone who I am.”

“No, 76, I–” 

The fact that you don’t call him ‘Jack’ isn’t lost on him. But he knows you recognize him.

“What?” It’s sharper than he intends, but he can’t take it back, not when you look frustrated enough to tear him a new one. You snatch your hands back, and he lets you, a small tinge of guilt thrumming through him. Undeniably, he overreacted as evident by the way you wring your hands. 

You’re looking left and right, occasionally flitting to his face before going back to looking around, searching for answers in the rubble surrounding you both. He knows you find none when you give a throaty cry of irritation, rubbing furiously at your face.

He watches you with heavy eyes. The frustration you must feel is understandable. A once-legendary hero suddenly appearing before you, living in squalor and the darkened life of a worthless vigilante. It’s a lot of information to take in, after all. He drops his gaze for a moment, sighing. Exhaustion and pain drags at him, willing to pull him under. 

“76...look at me.” 

He blinks, clearing his vision of the blurriness that occupied it. The sleeves of your clothes that you hold you in front of you are smeared in the color of your skin. He travels up those arms, confused, before he sees your face. 

Your head is raised sharply, resolute in your actions when you meet his eyes. 

The world stills.

He can’t breathe.

The pain and dizziness tosses his insides around, determined to stem his brain function and distract him from the truth before his eyes. 

The scars on your face look back at him, puckered and in stark contrast to the rest of your skin, rubbed raw. 

They’re the exact ones he sees when he passes a mirror with his mask off. The ones who lamented because he knows that if his soulmate existed, they’d be scarred for life, living in anxiety and fear. The ones he hides because he never wanted to meet you.

“…you’re…”

“Yes.” Your voice trembles, wet and borderline emotional. “Yes. I thought you were dead this whole time.” 

He’s at a loss for words. The hard ground beneath him wobbles like it’s going to give out underneath him. It must be the concussion. Your hands immediately on his shoulders keep him steady. He wants to throw up, and slaps your hands away. 

No, he can’t deal with this. Doesn’t deserve this. He has nothing to offer. He knows it’s the lifelong wish of every person--himself, included at one point--to meet their fated other half. A sign that they are not alone in the world, that their struggles do not have to be shouldered alone. 

But some things are better left alone. Like himself. You should not involve yourself with his all-consuming quest for answers. It’s not right. 

Undeterred, you turn his face toward you, forcing him to look at the scars that he indirectly inflicted upon you. You look exhausted, hopeful even, and Soldier’s chest constricts painfully. 

“I can’t--”

“76.” You cut him off firmly, but softly, as though already aware of what he wants to say. “Just go to sleep, we can talk about this later.” 

When he doesn’t want to sleep, but the exhaustion catches up quickly, yanking his eyelids close. He grumbles as you help him lay down again, displeased with the turn of events, especially with the ginger way you handle him. It might not be because he’s old or injured, but maybe there’s another reason now. 

When he wakes up, he knows he’ll have a soulmate to talk to, and potentially a lot of explaining to do. But knowing you, you probably wouldn’t let him do it alone.

[preciousmetals0]

Voting Gets Lazy; Cash-Craving Comcast; Broadcom Bites the Apple

Voting Gets Lazy; Cash-Craving Comcast; Broadcom Bites the Apple:

Friday Four Play: The “Getting Lazy” Edition

Lazy. The entire country is lazy.

We have amazing freedoms in this country … freedoms that are the envy of the world: freedom of speech, freedom of the press, freedom of religion, the right to bear arms, et cetera. But the most important of all? The freedom (and the responsibility) to vote and choose our representatives to maintain and uphold these very freedoms.

Do we? Nah…

In the 2016 presidential election, voter turnout was a mere 55.7%. For the 2018 midterm elections, turnout was just 53.4%. In other words, roughly 160 million U.S. citizens didn’t vote in either election.

The excuses vary, but they go something like this:

“I can’t be bothered, let someone else take care of that.”

“It’s too much of a hassle. I can’t take off work.”

“It doesn’t matter anyway. The government doesn’t work.”

When half of the voters in a country “of the people, by the people and for the people” don’t vote, do you really have to wonder why the government doesn’t work?

Anyway, you may soon be able to scratch “too much hassle” off the list of pathetic reasons not to vote. The greater Seattle area will become the first region to allow voting via smartphone.

Is that lazy enough for you? You can now vote while doing your business on the toilet, while you browse your email or look at cat videos and baby pictures on Face-stagram.

The smartphone voting plan encompasses more than 30 cities in the Seattle area, representing 1.2 million eligible voters. It’s also only being tested for a King Conservation District board of supervisors’ election — so nothing too major (yet).

On one hand, I applaud any efforts to get lazy constituents off their butts to vote. On the other hand, smartphone voting brings to mind a rather abhorrent mental image for me. I really don’t want a prime-time election TV show hosted by Ryan Seacrest telling me: “The voting lines are open!”

One final note: Privacy and security experts believe that smartphone voting puts our democracy at risk of being hacked. My response to this is that we already had that problem, and no one seems to care.

Besides, if we spent as much on securing our elections as the candidates do running for office, this wouldn’t be a problem anyway.

Hargett out.

And now for something completely different, here’s your Friday Four Play:

No. 1: “Adjustments” Incoming

Yesterday, we discussed Comcast Corp.’s (Nasdaq: CMCSA) latest quarterly report. Great Stuff noted how the top-line numbers looked good, but the real devil was in the details. One of those details, in particular, was widely overlooked. Heck, the wording was so benign, I even missed it.

I’m correcting that today. The detail in question is this (emphasis mine): “With the rate adjustments that we are implementing in 2020 as well as the ongoing changes in consumer behavior, we expect higher video subscriber losses this year.”

That’s right! Rate adjustments, aka higher cable prices. Comcast is going to squeeze those few remaining pay-TV customers for all they’re worth, until they leave for streaming services too.

Now, Comcast hopes to make up the difference with a $10-per-month premium tier on its new Peacock streaming service. However, I wouldn’t be surprised if Comcast’s broadband customers also see a price hike eventually … if they haven’t already.

After all, the math just doesn’t work out for Comcast. Streaming and broadband customers just don’t bring in the same kind of revenue as high-margin pay-TV customers. Prices are going up, I guarantee it. Keep a close eye on Peacock (when it launches) and broadband subscriber numbers. These are your new metrics for measuring Comcast’s success.

No. 2: Don’t Forget About Intel

Nowadays, everybody wanna talk like they got something to sell. But nothing comes out when they move their lips, just a bunch of gibberish. And investors act like they forgot about Intel.

Seriously, did Wall Street think that Intel Corp. (Nasdaq: INTC) was going to just fade away because Advanced Micro Devices Inc. (Nasdaq: AMD) made some snazzy new chips? Nope. Not happening.

The original semiconductor OG not only reported blowout fourth-quarter earnings and revenue, but it also lifted guidance for the full year. Earnings topped expectations by $0.27 per share, and revenue was $1 billion higher than expected. Cloud computing was the main driver for the beat, rising 48% year over year. That’s some serious green.

As for guidance, Intel expects earnings of $5 per share on revenue of $73.5 billion, versus analysts’ expectations for $4.66 per share and $72.4 billion in sales.

But the real kicker for INTC investors was news that the company’s board approved a 5% dividend hike. That puts Intel’s dividend yield at a healthy 2%.

Competition may be heating up with AMD, but Intel’s been here before. Don’t count it out.

No. 3: Broadcom Gets Apple Juiced

Broadcom Inc. (Nasdaq: AVGO) has an answer to the question: “How do you like them Apples?”

That answer? “Very much, thank you!” This morning, the company announced that it signed a 3-year, $15 billion supply deal with Apple Inc. (Nasdaq: AAPL). The deal covers a wide range of high-performance radio frequency (RF) chips — i.e., the semiconductors that handle Wi-Fi, Bluetooth, 4G and 5G data connections.

The deal’s price tag alone is noteworthy, but Broadcom has some ulterior motives behind this Apple agreement. Currently, both Qorvo Inc. (Nasdaq: QRVO) and Skyworks Solutions Inc. (Nasdaq: SWKS) are interested in bidding for Broadcom’s RF business unit.

With a $15 billion Apple supply deal in its back pocket, Broadcom should now be able to command a premium price for its RF unit. Sorry Qorvo and Skyworks, the price just went up.

No. 4: What’s the Big Deal?

Seriously, I’d like to know. Shares of American Express Co. (NYSE: AXP) surged more than 4% on the open this morning, following the company’s quarterly earnings report. Yet, I don’t see anything anywhere near that spectacular in the numbers.

For instance, AmEx reported earnings of $2.03 per share on revenue of $11.37 billion. Earnings beat expectations by just $0.02 per share and were down 12.5% from year-ago results. Revenue was merely in line with Wall Street’s target.

Maybe it’s guidance that’s driving AXP? Nope. The company’s forecast was roughly in line with consensus targets … even a bit on the low side of analysts’ range.

My best guess is that today’s move was technical in nature — ’cause the earnings just don’t support it. AXP had been banging up against price resistance at $130 since the middle of January. Once the shares breached this psychological level (people like round numbers … they’re pretty and look good in spreadsheets) AXP jumped sharply.

I expect American Express to maintain some of today’s gains, but the shares are already coming back to earth. Look for a more controlled upside from here, now that the initial knee jerk is out of the way.

Great Stuff: When Life Gives You Coronaviruses…

OK, I’ve got to level with you. I can’t get the idea of infectious plague snakes out of my head. They’re seriously harshing my take on the market. The fact that the coronavirus death toll rose from 17 to 26 in just a day also kinda freaks me out. (Wait, coronavirus … corona … maybe I just need a beer?)

As a rational investor, I know that I need to cool my jets on this one and actually prepare for uncertain times. I also know my risk tolerance levels and my investment goals, but what about you, dear reader?

Only you know how risky or conservative you can allow your investments to remain — and how prepared (or unprepared) your portfolio is for volatile markets.

All right Mr. Great Stuff, that’s fine and all, but I don’t want to spend all day looking at charts and market data…

I would call you lazy here, but I think I’ve already covered that. While it’s not “voting with your smartphone” easy, the experts here at Banyan Hill make this process exceedingly simple.

Experts such as Ted Bauman spend all day (and a sizable chunk of evenings too) digging through the markets so you don’t have to. This week, Ted also has profit-taking on the brain (great minds think alike!), giving you three ways to know when to hold ’em and when to fold ’em.

In fact, you can get your “Gambler” fix right here: “The No. 1 Question: When to Sell Shares and Claim Profits.”

But if you have better things to do than wait for consolidation patterns … or watching for bullish breakouts … you may find it easier to have Ted handle the analysis for you!

Click here to see how Ted’s market expertise can help you find profits — even if the markets go haywire.

That’s all for this week. But don’t fret, you can get more meme-y market goodness by following us on Facebook, Twitter and Instagram!

Until next time, good trading!

Regards,

Joseph Hargett

Great Stuff Managing Editor, Banyan Hill Publishing

[goldira01]

Friday Four Play: The “Getting Lazy” Edition

Lazy. The entire country is lazy.

We have amazing freedoms in this country … freedoms that are the envy of the world: freedom of speech, freedom of the press, freedom of religion, the right to bear arms, et cetera. But the most important of all? The freedom (and the responsibility) to vote and choose our representatives to maintain and uphold these very freedoms.

Do we? Nah…

In the 2016 presidential election, voter turnout was a mere 55.7%. For the 2018 midterm elections, turnout was just 53.4%. In other words, roughly 160 million U.S. citizens didn’t vote in either election.

The excuses vary, but they go something like this:

“I can’t be bothered, let someone else take care of that.”

“It’s too much of a hassle. I can’t take off work.”

“It doesn’t matter anyway. The government doesn’t work.”

When half of the voters in a country “of the people, by the people and for the people” don’t vote, do you really have to wonder why the government doesn’t work?

Anyway, you may soon be able to scratch “too much hassle” off the list of pathetic reasons not to vote. The greater Seattle area will become the first region to allow voting via smartphone.

Is that lazy enough for you? You can now vote while doing your business on the toilet, while you browse your email or look at cat videos and baby pictures on Face-stagram.

The smartphone voting plan encompasses more than 30 cities in the Seattle area, representing 1.2 million eligible voters. It’s also only being tested for a King Conservation District board of supervisors’ election — so nothing too major (yet).

On one hand, I applaud any efforts to get lazy constituents off their butts to vote. On the other hand, smartphone voting brings to mind a rather abhorrent mental image for me. I really don’t want a prime-time election TV show hosted by Ryan Seacrest telling me: “The voting lines are open!”

One final note: Privacy and security experts believe that smartphone voting puts our democracy at risk of being hacked. My response to this is that we already had that problem, and no one seems to care.

Besides, if we spent as much on securing our elections as the candidates do running for office, this wouldn’t be a problem anyway.

Hargett out.

And now for something completely different, here’s your Friday Four Play:

No. 1: “Adjustments” Incoming

Yesterday, we discussed Comcast Corp.’s (Nasdaq: CMCSA) latest quarterly report. Great Stuff noted how the top-line numbers looked good, but the real devil was in the details. One of those details, in particular, was widely overlooked. Heck, the wording was so benign, I even missed it.

I’m correcting that today. The detail in question is this (emphasis mine): “With the rate adjustments that we are implementing in 2020 as well as the ongoing changes in consumer behavior, we expect higher video subscriber losses this year.”

That’s right! Rate adjustments, aka higher cable prices. Comcast is going to squeeze those few remaining pay-TV customers for all they’re worth, until they leave for streaming services too.

Now, Comcast hopes to make up the difference with a $10-per-month premium tier on its new Peacock streaming service. However, I wouldn’t be surprised if Comcast’s broadband customers also see a price hike eventually … if they haven’t already.

After all, the math just doesn’t work out for Comcast. Streaming and broadband customers just don’t bring in the same kind of revenue as high-margin pay-TV customers. Prices are going up, I guarantee it. Keep a close eye on Peacock (when it launches) and broadband subscriber numbers. These are your new metrics for measuring Comcast’s success.

No. 2: Don’t Forget About Intel

Nowadays, everybody wanna talk like they got something to sell. But nothing comes out when they move their lips, just a bunch of gibberish. And investors act like they forgot about Intel.

Seriously, did Wall Street think that Intel Corp. (Nasdaq: INTC) was going to just fade away because Advanced Micro Devices Inc. (Nasdaq: AMD) made some snazzy new chips? Nope. Not happening.

The original semiconductor OG not only reported blowout fourth-quarter earnings and revenue, but it also lifted guidance for the full year. Earnings topped expectations by $0.27 per share, and revenue was $1 billion higher than expected. Cloud computing was the main driver for the beat, rising 48% year over year. That’s some serious green.

As for guidance, Intel expects earnings of $5 per share on revenue of $73.5 billion, versus analysts’ expectations for $4.66 per share and $72.4 billion in sales.

But the real kicker for INTC investors was news that the company’s board approved a 5% dividend hike. That puts Intel’s dividend yield at a healthy 2%.

Competition may be heating up with AMD, but Intel’s been here before. Don’t count it out.

No. 3: Broadcom Gets Apple Juiced

Broadcom Inc. (Nasdaq: AVGO) has an answer to the question: “How do you like them Apples?”

That answer? “Very much, thank you!” This morning, the company announced that it signed a 3-year, $15 billion supply deal with Apple Inc. (Nasdaq: AAPL). The deal covers a wide range of high-performance radio frequency (RF) chips — i.e., the semiconductors that handle Wi-Fi, Bluetooth, 4G and 5G data connections.

The deal’s price tag alone is noteworthy, but Broadcom has some ulterior motives behind this Apple agreement. Currently, both Qorvo Inc. (Nasdaq: QRVO) and Skyworks Solutions Inc. (Nasdaq: SWKS) are interested in bidding for Broadcom’s RF business unit.

With a $15 billion Apple supply deal in its back pocket, Broadcom should now be able to command a premium price for its RF unit. Sorry Qorvo and Skyworks, the price just went up.

No. 4: What’s the Big Deal?

Seriously, I’d like to know. Shares of American Express Co. (NYSE: AXP) surged more than 4% on the open this morning, following the company’s quarterly earnings report. Yet, I don’t see anything anywhere near that spectacular in the numbers.

For instance, AmEx reported earnings of $2.03 per share on revenue of $11.37 billion. Earnings beat expectations by just $0.02 per share and were down 12.5% from year-ago results. Revenue was merely in line with Wall Street’s target.

Maybe it’s guidance that’s driving AXP? Nope. The company’s forecast was roughly in line with consensus targets … even a bit on the low side of analysts’ range.

My best guess is that today’s move was technical in nature — ’cause the earnings just don’t support it. AXP had been banging up against price resistance at $130 since the middle of January. Once the shares breached this psychological level (people like round numbers … they’re pretty and look good in spreadsheets) AXP jumped sharply.

I expect American Express to maintain some of today’s gains, but the shares are already coming back to earth. Look for a more controlled upside from here, now that the initial knee jerk is out of the way.

Great Stuff: When Life Gives You Coronaviruses…

OK, I’ve got to level with you. I can’t get the idea of infectious plague snakes out of my head. They’re seriously harshing my take on the market. The fact that the coronavirus death toll rose from 17 to 26 in just a day also kinda freaks me out. (Wait, coronavirus … corona … maybe I just need a beer?)

As a rational investor, I know that I need to cool my jets on this one and actually prepare for uncertain times. I also know my risk tolerance levels and my investment goals, but what about you, dear reader?

Only you know how risky or conservative you can allow your investments to remain — and how prepared (or unprepared) your portfolio is for volatile markets.

All right Mr. Great Stuff, that’s fine and all, but I don’t want to spend all day looking at charts and market data…

I would call you lazy here, but I think I’ve already covered that. While it’s not “voting with your smartphone” easy, the experts here at Banyan Hill make this process exceedingly simple.

Experts such as Ted Bauman spend all day (and a sizable chunk of evenings too) digging through the markets so you don’t have to. This week, Ted also has profit-taking on the brain (great minds think alike!), giving you three ways to know when to hold ’em and when to fold ’em.

In fact, you can get your “Gambler” fix right here: “The No. 1 Question: When to Sell Shares and Claim Profits.”

But if you have better things to do than wait for consolidation patterns … or watching for bullish breakouts … you may find it easier to have Ted handle the analysis for you!

Click here to see how Ted’s market expertise can help you find profits — even if the markets go haywire.

That’s all for this week. But don’t fret, you can get more meme-y market goodness by following us on Facebook, Twitter and Instagram!

Until next time, good trading!

Regards,

Joseph Hargett

Great Stuff Managing Editor, Banyan Hill Publishing