#why does blade have like six hair vents

[nemiwont]

My Bailu and Luocha are gonna be working overtime if I get Blade tomorrow

[asmo-ds]

I've had this thought in my head for awhile, but does God know mc is the descent of Lilith?? Lilith was supposed to be killed but was secretly reincarnated by Diavolo. What if he finds out and kills mc because as far as he's concerned, they shouldn't exist? Can I request some hcs of how the demon brothers and undateables would react to this happening? If not, I understand! >.< Thank you!! ❤️❤️

&

When God kills MC for being Lilith’s descendant

WARNINGS: Blood, death, depression, anger, war, Simeon dies in one of them

- If anyone mentioned MC he’d be gripping them by the throat begging them with tears in his eyes to never speak their name in front of him again

- He doesn’t want them to say it because of his pride. He knows he’ll cry hearing their name and he’d get flashbacks to Michael standing over MC’s bleeding body as they cried Lucifer’s name, hopeful that he’d be able to save them.

- He wasn’t able to save them despite being right there, he was being held back by some angels and was fighting them at that moment, but even after he killed those angels and Michael, he got to their side too late, their eyes empty and skin still warm, but getting colder as the seconds pass.

- He’d scream and cry so loud the entire Devildom would hear, and he wouldn’t care, no matter how much pride he held, he was torn to pieces and felt lost the second their soul left their frail human body

- He and Diavolo immediately agree that God needs to feel the same pain he’d put all the brothers through twice

- They go to the celestial realm and attack a bunch of Archangels

- His anger from losing both his sister and his lover will be terrifying and is enough to bring God to his knees

- “I won’t let you touch anybody else. I won’t let you tear my family apart more than you have!” 

- If he does not kill God, he definitely leaves him shaking in his boots,

- He will use all his strength to kill as many Archangels as possible, so his father would feel the same loss he’d felt.

- He’d leave God wounded but make him have to helplessly watch his children and friends die horrid deaths before his very eyes, just like Lucifer had to do with Lilith and MC, still alive, but left empty and helpless.

- His mourning process after the rage would basically be over working himself, bringing his mind to anything but the dear human he’d lost

- Watching his former brothers impale MC’s chest with a sword was not something he was ready to see.

- He hated every second of holding them in their last moments, he thought he wouldn’t have to watch them die in agony like he did when they let Belphie out of the attic

- It happened when he looked away, an angel suddenly appeared in front of MC and immediately had the blade in them

- He blames Lucifer for a while.

- Because of him, everyone found out the truth about Lilith and it got back to God and if Lucifer had just allowed Belphie to stay out of the attic to live with the exchange student like the rest of them they would never have died either of their deaths

- Blames himself a lot as well, he is supposed to be fast. That’s his thing, is being fast. But he wasn’t fast enough to save them from their killer.

- Distracts himself with drinking and gambling his life away

- One night he gets unbearably mad and intoxicated, which leads to him sneaking into the Demon Lord’s castle and using a gate to the celestial realm.

- When he’s there he books it to the throne of his father, begging him to at least tell him if MC was in heaven or hell before he sent him back down there.

- Hearing that they went to neither and God had simply wiped them and their soul from existence was what finally got to him

-He lunged at him but was stopped by Diavolo who had followed him there and apologized to God for letting him through.

- “YOU’VE TAKEN EVERYTHING FROM ME YOU SON OF A BITCH, YOU DON’T DESERVE TO RULE THIS UNIVERSE, ONE DAY I KNOW LUCIFER WILL RETURN TO BEHEAD YOU IN FRONT OF THE REST OF YOUR PRECIOUS ANGELS”

- His ranting kind of caught everyone off guard but they wouldn’t be able to stare in shock for long as Diavolo dragged him through the gate, bringing him to the dungeon where he would stay until Lucifer could hopefully talk some sense into him

- Why? Why did he have to tell MC to go shopping themselves, why didn’t he just go with them.

- When they used his pact mark a second too late, he arrived to their bloody beaten body, nearly lifeless eyes turning hopeful for their last moment of life as they saw Leviathan

- He turns just in time to see an angel booking it towards a portal, but he is too concerned with saving MC to actually chase their killer.

- He turned back to them and lifted their unconscious body off the Devildom soil, sprinting as fast as possible screaming for help

- When he arrived at the Demon Lord’s castle begging Diavolo to save them he was too late, somewhere along the way their heart had stopped and they died looking up at their yucky otaku boyfriend trying so hard to save them from a hopeless battle with a small smile.

- He locks himself in his room, not even coming out to eat meals.

- When Lucifer finally had enough of Levi starving himself, he opened the door with the master key and found his pale younger brother, in his bed sleeping, but under the blankets he guess Levi had lost too much weight.

- He also took notice of his lack of anime figurines and video games, looking to see them in the trash.

- Levi is quick to get mad at Lucifer but when Lucifer just holds him and pats his younger brother’s hair, he breaks down full on sobbing and snot getting all over Lucifer’s coat, which he cringed at a little but dealt with it for the boy’s sake.

- He wouldn’t go to God like the previous two, he’d just murder anyone who mentioned him or his angels 

- He ends up giving away his fish too, convinced that he wasn’t allowed to have loved ones because no matter how hard he tried to save them he never could. First his baby sister and now the love of his life.

- Oh poor Satan, he had worked so so hard to get his temper under control, but watching an angel slit MC’s throat in front of his very eyes erased all the control he had within him and he immediately gutted the angel, within the blink of an eye they were just as dead as MC

- He called Lucifer begging for help, even though they both knew he was much too late and MC had bled out and died quickly. 

- He held them until Lucifer and some of the other brothers had to pry his arms off of them.

- After seeing them taken away to be put in a casket and buried in the human world with their family, he filled with rage and grief all at once, from the top of his head all the way to his toes he was radiating wrath and he went on a rampage, killing demons left and right

- He wasn’t able to think clearly until a voice in the back of his head reminded him of the human and how they always helped everyone no matter their species.

- He stopped killing then, not wanting MC’s spirit to be upset with him more than they already should be.

- He, like Lucifer, distracts himself so that he can’t think of MC as much and be hurt by the images that lived in his head forever

- Whenever a book described a character similar to MC he’d tear every page, ripping it to shreds

- He’d lost almost half of his book collection in only a month because he managed to see MC in everything.

- Blames himself and tries to get to the Celestial Realm but is stopped by Diavolo and Lucifer

- After he had been in his room for about a week or so with no sign of even moving from his bed, Lucifer let himself in which pissed of the avatar of wrath

- Lucifer said nothing but looked in his eyes before simply saying the blonds name, before hugging him

- For the first time since he was a young boy, Satan let Lucifer hold him as he wailed and sobbed, venting and letting his eldest brother guide him through it all

- Why did he let MC storm off when he was letting that succubus flirt with him?

- If he had just told to succubus to go away cuz he was with MC they’d still be alive, they wouldn’t have died in such a painful way.

- When he heard a scream he turned around and froze as he saw MC, sword entering their chest and exiting between their shoulder blades

- He panicked and rushed to them, looking the angel responsible in the eyes so he could have him wait for when Asmodeus felt ready to kill him

- When MC gave him a soft smile and touched his cheek with their bloody hand, he held it against his face and cried screaming for help and texting and calling Lucifer like crazy

- When he felt their hand go limp he stopped everything

- He looked down and saw their once lively eyes looking at the sky above them, with no soul behind them, just an empty shell of the only person to ever fall in love with him for reasons other than sex, money, and power.

- He couldn’t look away, he just stared at them in silence, tears rolling down his cheeks as Lucifer and Diavolo arrived, both gasping as they saw Asmodeus covered in MC’s blood.

- Asmodeus dropped his skin care routines, rivaling Belphie’s title as the avatar of sloth as he slept day and night, no longer wanting to be awake with MC

- Why did his father have to take away the one wholesome thing he had? Why was his father so desperate to ruin things for his six surviving sons and Satan

- One day he suddenly jumps back into his old self, smiling and flirting like nothing was wrong, but everyone knew he was still completely broken up inside

- He brings home a new partner every night, each one resembling MC in some way shape or form, because he knows he can’t have them anymore, but he doesn’t want to think about that

- He just wants to embrace his sins and distract himself from any lingering thoughts of MC with strangers

- How could be be so reckless? He knows he shouldn’t leave MC alone in public places but when he saw a hotdog cart he couldn’t help but dash for it with all his speed

- As he was ordering everything the cart had he heard screams behind him

- He looked back and felt his blood run cold as he saw MC’s body on the ground, blood pouring out of their neck and an angel covered in blood flying away

- That angel would get his punishment later, right now he has to tend to MC

- He desperately tries to get them to respond to him, the only response he ever receives is MC’s final gurgled breaths, as they looked at him with terror in their eyes that slowly disappeared as their body shut down, unable to keep going

- and he roared, demon form coming out at he flew off into the sky, chasing the angel that was considerably slower than him

- When he reached them he bit into their shoulder before devouring them completely, making sure they suffered ten times as much as MC had in their final moments

- Without a second thought he flies towards the Demon Lords castle in a rage

- As he knocks down the doors he manages to knock out several guards who were watching the castle diligently as Diavolo and Barbatos had immediately left to go find MC and Beel

- Beel went to the Portals that allowed them to travel between realms, and charged into the Celestial realm, killing multiple angels on his way to God

- He wasn’t going to go down without a fight. Just because he rules over the entire universe doesn’t mean he can take everything away from Beel. He can’t keep losing the most important people in his life, it wasn’t fair

- When he fought his way into God’s throne room, facing him for the first time in several millennia he raged immediately pouncing at his father only to be struck down.

- The fight kept going until Diavolo and Lucifer had arrived to take the giant redhead back to the Devildom, Lucifer nearly killing God himself when he saw how hurt his younger brother was.

- He refuses to eat for a very long time, feeling he deserved to be in pain because he was the reason behind both Lilith and MC’s gruesome deaths

- He only eats when it starts to hurt Belphie a lot as well, but he hates it, he feels unworthy

(Simeon Simps beware)

- He wishes he could unhear it. The sound of MC beside him in bed, screaming as a sword entered their chest, gasping for air but failing to find it.

- Why didn’t he wake up to the intruder? How could he just let an angel deliver MC the same fate they had nearly recieved by himself.

- He didn’t chase after the intruder, instead screaming for his brothers’ help, staying with MC comforting them and trying to urge them to keep breathing.

- “Belphie,” “Mc, save your breath you’ll be okay I promise!” “I’m sleepy, Belphie....I’m.. Gonna nap here with you,” 

- He stared at them like they were crazy, but deep down he knew this was their way of having one last happy moment with him. He nodded and held them, avoiding the area where the wound was and crying as he held onto them, feeling the last of their breaths and the life leave their body

- He turned into his demon form. He sees it now

- He shouldn’t have been hating humans, no, they weren’t to blame at all.

- It was the angels, they were the ones who kept taking away his loved ones. They were the ones who needed to pay.

- When everybody had gathered in the room, mourning MC’s departure, Belphie looked up and saw Simeon crying while trying to push Luke away from the bloody scene

- Belphie lunged at Simeon pushing him down before reaching his claws into the Angel’s throat, ripping it out as Luke and the others watched in terror

- Diavolo locked Belphie away for killing the angel and Belphie felt not an ounce of regret.

- Now father will feel the pain of losing someone so special, since he knew Simeon was one of his favorite angels

- Whichever guard allowed an angel to sneak by with a weapon is to be beheaded

- This was supposed to be a nice elegant ball with MC as the prince’s date

- But he turned to face a noble man to talk for a moment when he felt MC grip suddenly tighten harshly on his hand, and when he turned he was mortified to see a knife in their chest and an angel fleeing as quickly as possible

- Diavolo goes on a rampage, chasing the angel before ripping his head off with his bare hands

- He held MC’s body and cried for hours, begging Barbatos to bring them back in time again to save themselves once more from the cruel death they’d been forced to have

- He decided to hell with the Celestial realm, only the humans and Devildom shall be united, God had taken things too far with MC’s death

- He sent troops to the celestial realm and offered the seven demon brothers a second chance at taking down their dad, but with him and his army on their side this time

- When he does eventually rampage his way to god the battle is intense and nearly destroys all three realms, Diavolo was desperate to avenge MC and came very close to killing god with his bare hands

- He had done so much to prevent this. He’d known this future was a possibility so he tried to stop it from becoming the reality he’d lived in

- Where did he mess up? Why was MC’s throat slit right before his eyes?

- His usual poker face or sly smirk was nowhere to be seen as he cried on Diavolo’s shoulder, and Diavolo was happy that Barbatos allowed himself to be vulnerable with him, but saddened to see what had caused it

- Barbatos constantly blames himself, and whenever anyone suggest traveling to an alternate universe where they survived, he’d say no because that wasn’t his MC and he didn’t want to take them away from their version of him

- He never was vulnerable around anyone ever again

- He also nearly scrubbed every inch of the castle into oblivion, trying so hard to distract himself with cleaning, but no amount of chores could keep his mind away from MC

- When Diavolo suggests that they go to war with the Celestial realm, Barbatos is quick to agree.

- “I’m right behind you my lord, I trust you to guide us to victory,”

- When fighting he came face to face with the angel responsible for killing MC and he made his death slow and painful and forced him to watch his friends and family get slaughtered by the Devildom troops 

- No no no

- Surely he had a pact with someone who could fix this

- He is panicking and can’t think of a single demon that could heal a wound as big as MC’s 

- He’s sobbing and holding them, wailing and mourning the loss of the only other human to understand and love him

- He was angry, but he knew he couldn’t take on God

- He was moved into the house of lamentation because his anger towards the Celestial realm put the exchange angels in danger

- Asmo ends up trying to cheer him up, trying desperately to get his best friend and pact holder back

- He ends up researching spells to revive them, to no avail

- But he never gives up and Asmodeus and Satan remind him that MC wouldn’t want him to be acting this irrational and wouldn’t want to be revived for a second time

- He eventual realizes all that and gives up his search and just lets himself be sad

- Why? Why would he do this.

- He cries, desperate to find reason in God’s action, very focused on keeping his status as an angel and not fall

- But back in the Celestial Realm, Michael brings up MC’s assassination and Simeon loses all composure and tries to kill Michael, angry that he ever trusted him so much

- MC was an innocent human with no control over their lineage, they were happy, they had hope and were going to do great things, so why?

- Why did God kill an innocent human? He does not understand

- As the battle between Simeon and Michael comes to an end, Simeon is pushed out of the Celestial realm

- His wings blackening, horns sprouting from underneath his shattering halo, teeth growing sharp and the aura surrounding him becoming demonic

- He fell from grace

- He lives with the brothers for the rest of eternity, all mourning MC occasionally and making up ideas on how they could finally bring justice to MC and Lilith’s names

[nico-twix]

the prisoner of my enemy is my prisoner

Hey guys, sorry if this ain't your thing, but in honour of star wars day, I decided to post a little blurb of a fanfic I've been writing!

Kylo Ren x Reader

Words: 1.5K

Tags: second-person "You", no (y/n), force choking, mind invasion, blasters, mechanic reader, a poor attempt at humour, slow burn

When the First Order raid a Resistance Base, the last thing they expect is to imprison their prisoners, but as will become common, Commander Ren makes an exception for you.

May the Fourth be with You!

“Wake up, prisoner.” Cool blaster metal digs into your arm as you are gracefully awoken.

You would be lying if you said this was the first time you have been captured, but this has been by far the worst treatment.

You’re not quite sitting or standing, and as far as you can feel—because you certainly can’t move your head to look down— you are bolted to this “seat” of kings. What you can see: grey wall, white trooper, and emo creep in the corner.

They excuse the trooper and stand in front of you. Their black helmet softly reflects a red light that is outside your vision.

“You were a prisoner of the Resistance.” Their, his, voice is modulated, but you can still pick up his annoyance. Short. Clipped.

“I’m well aware of that, bud.”

His mask diffuses what you could only guess to be a growl into static. Scary man did not like that answer. “You are now a prisoner of the First Order.”

Ah fuck. If it were possible, you would have stiffened in your binds. You have heard of the First Order—everyone has. But you knew them as the largest arms purchaser in the galaxy and had no clue who, what, or why they are how they are.

He steps even closer to you; his helmet is obscuring all of the grey walls in your vision. “The resistance wanted you enough to keep you alive. Why?”

Barely alive. Their prisoner for 100 days and all I got as food were some dry-ass crackers. “Look, bud, if I knew I would tell you.” You attempt to shrug your shoulders, but all it does is bring a dull ache.

“No, not bud.” This close, the helmet voice sounds scarier, deeper, more alive. The hairs on your arm start to tingle like they are static.

“Not bud, read you loud and clear, pal.” As soon as the word leaves your mouth, he’s got his hand around your neck.

“If I didn’t need you alive to invade your mind, I would have killed you by now.” He places a finger on your forehead as he tightens his hold further and your eyes roll back into your head. Your brain feels like it’s getting pushed out of your nose and chopped open like a Koja nut simultaneously. Your lungs burn and you are powerless to stop him. If only I had a choking kink to make this somewhat enjoyable.

Images of your life flash past, leaving you little time to process what’s going on. Finally, you see your time with the Resistance. All 100 days, although each was the same. Your guard telling you to build it. You don’t know how. You don’t even know what it’s for. The visions stop. He seems to find what he is looking for at that moment as he lets you go. You’re inhaling air faster than a vacuum cleaner as blood rushes throughout your body, black dots dancing in your vision, pounding headache wrecking your brain.

He calls the stormtrooper back in. “You can move her to a lower security cell,” he turns to look at you, “she really does know nothing. Resistance Scum.” Even against the modulation, you can hear his leering sneer. What an ass.

The trooper releases your head bindings and you can only see your interro(r)gator’s backside. What an ass.

The new cell is much better in that you have full motor control, but the good things stop there. They sure went over budget on decorating. The whole thing is painted in the same soul-sucking grey colour as before and there wasn’t even a window. I thought I booked a room with a view. All that was in there with you was a mat for sleeping and an air vent on the floor that was pumping in only what you could assume was unfiltered space vacuum it was so cold. Maker, I know I complained about the Resistance prison, but this is bad.

If you had to stay in this cell for another day, you were going to commit homicide. This leaves two options: either one, escape, or two, hope that the next trooper that walks in here has a nicely written will. One seems easier. How hard could escaping be?

Apparently very hard. You have been going at this for hours. But try as you may, your arms will never magically extend far enough through the cell bars to grab the keys off of the guard. Which leaves the vent. Vents are nice, but not the safest thing in the world. For all you know, this could lead you out into space or through fan blades or to the trash receptacle. But fuck it, Maker damn you if ever saw your “pal” again.

The vent luckily had no screws, and with just a light tug, the door flipped open unveiling a straight shot down. How far down? Who knows, not you! So, with one last look at the guard, you slid to your freedom.

You couldn’t have been sliding for more than twenty feet when you collided with more metal venting. You landed as lightly as an elephant and your ankles burned with shooting pain. You got to down to your hands and knees to falter through the next set of passageways, eclipsed in darkness and dust. Every so often, you would come across another vent opening and you would peak to observe where you were. You have passed by three trooper quarters and figured you were in their wing of the ship. Meaning that their armoury should be nearby. The plan from here on out should be simple.

Step 1: Get to the armoury

It took what seemed to be two hours to finally find the armoury and it certainly didn’t help that you got lost. Twice. You wondered how long you still have before your “pal” realizes you’ve escaped. Based on prior experience, prisoners generally get checked on every six hours, so you should still be safe. You pop open the vent door below you and fall on your ass into the armoury.

Step 2: Steal some of that zesty trooper armour.

The armoury in the dark was creepy. Every couple of steps, you would feel a solid limb of their armour smack against your legs or shoulders. Your hair even got caught in one of their belts. None of them seemed to be in your size. What am I, in the Men’s section? You duck behind a container of spare helmets as you hear the familiar schwoop of blast doors.

“Poor bastard didn’t deserve that though.” Various clicks and hisses went through the air as two troopers stripped off their armour.

“None of us do. He’s lucky he only broke his leg, gets a free trip to the med bay.” The light streaming in from the open door allowed you to see them discard their armour pieces under a “repairs” sign.

“He better not take the last blue lollipop; I’ve been eyeing it.” They both chuckled at that, grabbed new armour, and left.

You let out the breath you were holding in. You weren’t spotted, everything will be okay. You try to remember the layout from earlier and make your way over to where the broken armour was dumped. One of the troopers looked your size, so you borrow it and hope they won’t miss it terribly.

Step 3: Find their weapons stash. Walk around like a headless chicken looking for their weapons stash.

Every good escape needs good weapons. And this will be a damn good escape. It would be if you could find the weapons. I feel like I’ve seen that door before. You probably have. You’re just following the gaggle of troopers in front of you, hoping this won’t look suspicious. It definitely did. If the clocks on the walls were anything to go by, it has been around 4 hours since you escaped, meaning that you have been lost on this ship for at least an hour and a half. 1000 rooms on the Starkiller base, 1000 rooms on Starkiller. Enter one, I am so done, 999 rooms on the Starkiller base. Your slightly too large armour makes awful clicks and you pray to Maker that your hell would end soon. And then, almost as if Maker heard your pleas, you found the room you were looking for.

Step 4: Escape!

The weapons room was more like a weapons sanctuary. All along the walls, beautiful blasters polished to perfection, and yet they had some of the worst specs you’ve ever seen. This is outrageous! They expect me to escape with a blaster pistol? It’s not even modded.

What used to look divine, now just looks pathetic. You huff, having taken offence at their poor supply, and “borrow” a couple of weapons from the shelves, a repeater here, a stun baton there, and a trusty set of standard-issue repair tools. With precision unmatched by even the finest droids, you get to work, soldering and welding, stripping and joining, and hoping and praying that what you have only tested out in dreams would work.

And you might have been able to test it, had the blast doors stayed shut.

Step 4b: do not get caught. It’s a little late for that

“Trooper, report.”

Please let me know what you think and if there are any mistakes! This blurb is available on AO3 if you want to subscribe for more updates!

[brushstrokesapocalyptic]

The Legend of Asriel PART 4 | HYRULE CASTLE

now home, chara finds what they weren’t looking for.

Frisk cheerfully waves goodbye to Maddie, who refuses to be charmed by this brat and just tells them she won’t be sticking around to lug them anywhere else. Frisk considers this reasonable, and turns to Chara to ask for further directions to where they’re going. Chara points at the castle in the distance.

“Question,“ Frisk signs. “Why do you expect to find this person in Hyrule Castle?“

“Because he lives there,“ Chara replies, as if that’s the most obvious thing in the world.

“Who is he, anyway?“

Chara takes some time to respond, continuing to lead Frisk through the streets with ease. “He’s the prince,” they finally sign. “As the Hero, I was raised for the purpose of fighting alongside him to defeat the evil destined to threaten Hyrule. We’re practically siblings.”

Frisk squints. “I’ve been wondering about that. What makes you the hero and not some other person?”

Chara wordlessly tugs one of their leather gauntlets off and shows Frisk the back of their hand, where a faint birthmark in the shape of three triangles sits. “This marks me as part of this whole cycle of evil. Asriel has one too, and the other is supposedly on the sealed evil, which only leaves me. The Hero.”

Frisk rubs a little at the back of their own hand as Chara tugs the gauntlet back on. “That seems dumb and arbitrary,” they say. “Who is this evil anyway?”

Chara shrugs. “The story doesn’t say,” they reply. “All we know is that a hundred years ago, the Prince and the Hero raised alongside him fought back a terrible evil and sealed it away for a hundred years, and now the time is up.” They pause. “Well, I hope it’s still only been a hundred years. Again, I don’t know how long I’ve been gone.”

Frisk nods, and the conversation drops. Chara leads them to the castle gates and they try to gain access, but the guards inform them that no one is permitted into the castle to see the prince so “Scram, kid.”

Chara informs them that it’s fine, they really didn’t expect it to work anyway. The bit about no one being allowed is curious, but they don’t know what to make of it yet so, “Here, follow, me I know the best way to sneak in and out of this place.”

What follows is a stealth segment. Frisk gets in through a secret passage and has to sneak through the halls, dodging patrolling guards and servants and whatnot. Chara recognizes some of them, confirming to them that they haven’t been gone that long. They also capture some snippets of passing conversations, maids complaining to each other about how strict “that dodgy scientist” is being and other foreshadowing of that ilk.

The first place Chara leads Frisk is to the garden. Asriel always liked to hang out with them there! But they search high and low between the tall hedges and find no prince. So they head for his quarters, which look far more tidy than Chara has ever seen him— it’s like he hasn’t even touched them for months. On a whim, they poke their head into their own quarters just across the hall, and see them in much the same state. They try and fail to rearrange their pillows into something less eerily neat.

Another conversation passes, and this one really grabs their attention because there’s their Dad— King— Asgore, walking with some masked guy they’ve never seen before. Frisk follows, still in Stealth Mode, and they go down into the dungeons to find a sorta... laboratory... workshop-y.... room. Which Chara is quite sure wasn’t always there, this room used to contain like, training dummies and stuff. Now there’s all these tables and equipment and stuff, and a weird bundle on top of a crate which Chara keeps finding their eyes drifting towards as they follow Asgore into the room. Frisk hides behind some kinda furniture or in a convenient air vent or something, idk, and the two of them listen in.

Asgore and The Dude have a heated discussion of some sort. The dude has Plans and Asgore is a reluctant coward as usual. Several nuggets of information are dropped: First of all, it’s been six months since Chara died. Second, the Queen is missing, having been the one to deliver this news and also Chara’s body to the castle before disappearing off the face of the planet (also with Chara’s body). Third, Asriel is missing, and as much as Chara is upset to hear about that they realize they really should’ve seen that coming seeing as they already checked the two places Asriel hangs out in when Chara isn’t around. Oh, also the dude’s name is Dr. Gaster. Does this qualify as a twist? I don’t think it does.

I would also like to note that Deltarune has very little bearing on Gaster’s role in the story, as we currently have next to no concrete information on how he plays into it. Some minor details are influenced, of course, but just in case anyone decides to come charging in telling me about how wrong I am. I don’t care. This is my au. I can do what I want.

Conversation continues. Whatever Gaster’s plans are, they apparently involve that bundle Chara keeps finding themself staring at. It is an Important Bundle. Gaster picks it up and starts unwrapping it, expressing how Important it is. Asgore agrees that it is Important and that is why he is against it being used for anything because the hero is dead who else could possibly use it, much less in this state.

I then proceed to hold you the reader in suspense for the duration for at least another sentence.

Gaster dumps the contents of the bundle on a bare table and Chara suppresses a shriek at the sight of a million shards of silver metal all clattering together and topped by a blue hilt, carved in the shape of two stylized bird wings.

“When the FUCK did that happen,“ they ask, very loudly and unheard by literally anyone but themself. Gaster and Asgore go on talking, but Chara is too busy forgetting to continue interpreting for Frisk as they leap across the room to look more closely. They have to confirm. This can’t be the Master Sword, right? The legendary sword of evil’s bane? It can’t just explode into a million pieces, right? What kind of a legendary piece of shit does that? It can’t be real.

But the closer they look at it, the more certain they get— it’s very real. The hairs on the back of their neck stand up a little as they reach to touch the hilt, though they’re sure they’ll just pass through like always, but they’re cut off by Asgore slamming his fist on the table. The conversation was still going, after all, and something Gaster had to say made the king mad.

“I will not have you insinuate such things about Chara,“ Asgore says. “They were as a much my child as Asriel. You cannot possibly say they were any type of villain!“

Gaster dips his head. “Be that as it may. The fact that the sword was rendered in this state. After their failed attempt to retrieve it. Indicates they were not the hero. With only one other option available...”

Asgore snorts, cloak billowing right through Chara’s body as he turns to leave. “Absolutely not,” he says. “Come speak to me when you can speak of actually sensible topics.”

“...Very well,“ Gaster says, and Asgore vanishes out the door. Somehow, he manages to look baleful even through the odd cracked mask he’s been wearing this whole time.

He remains for a few minutes longer, carefully re-wrapping the pieces of the Master Sword and setting them aside once more. He examines some of the machinery, prods a few things, then leaves as well.

Frisk pokes their head out from their hiding place to give Chara a dry stare. “Mind filling me in?” they ask, getting to their feet. “You only translated the first half of that conversation, I had to guess at what they were talking about after that.”

“My apologies,“ Chara says, perching on the edge of a table with a casual smile. “I had deemed the rest of what they had to say so utterly banal, I was sure you’d be just as bored as I was.“

“Bullcrap,“ Frisk says, leaning around them to look at the bundle. “You’re way more awesome at interpreting than that, something got your attention. What was that, a pile of daggers?“

“A broken sword, actually,“ Chara replies, smile growing strained. “The sword I was meant to acquire, actually. You may recall I mentioned it?“

“Vaguely,“ Frisk says. “Anyway, conversation?“

Chara shrugs helplessly. “I was sorta distracted, sorry,“ they reply. “I think that Gaster guy insinuated I’m not the Hero and Dad got mad, which he should because obviously I’m the Hero. I’ve been the Hero all my life.“

Frisk remains skeptical.

“Anyway we definitely shouldn’t stick around, that guy could come back at any minute,“ Chara says, hopping to their feet and trying to look like they’re not on the verge of a panic attack. “Grab the bundle and let’s go.“

“Wait, why do we need the bundle?“ Frisk asks, picking it up. “It’s just a bunch of hunks of metal now, right?“

“I dunno but it’s definitely important,“ Chara says, bustling them out of the door. “Now come on, nearest escape route’s that way.“

More stealth, but this one ends in Frisk getting spotted by a guard. They attempt to flee, but luck is not on their side as they get surrounded. Gaster shows up, being basically in charge of everything right now and naturally curious about the sudden cries about an intruder. The guards part all dramatic-like to let him through and he peers at Frisk, musing about what a child from the desert is doing all the way up here.

Then he notices the bundle tucked under their arm. They attempt to turn their body to hide it, but Gaster has already seen it. “Would you care to hand that over?” he asks, holding out a hand. “It’s quite important. Not the sort of. Thing. Petty thieves have any use for.”

Frisk narrows their eyes, taking a small step back, and Gaster tuts. “I had hoped. You would listen,” he says. He jerks his head at one of the guards. “You. Retrieve that package. Mind their blade. Whether they know how to use it. I imagine it would sting.”

The indicated guard steps forward, reaching for the bundle, and Frisk draws back again, indeed going for their sword. There’s not very far they can go, though, and no way they could win this fight, so they prepare to give up the bundle.

Chara has other ideas, though, and as the guard touches the bundle they lunge, hands passing through the fabric and wrapping around the broken hilt— wrapping around it, they realize, not merely pretending but actually touching it— and something surges through them. And then a fraction of a second, it surges out of them in the form of a blinding flash of golden light that sends all the guards reeling, eyes burnt as they grope around wildly and raise their voices in an attempt to figure out what just happened.

When the spots clear from their vision, they find the weird child is gone, and the Royal Scientist merely staring at the spot they just vacated with his mask as unreadable as always. And a short distance from the palace (but growing further with every moment) Frisk runs full-tilt away from the window they just scrambled out of, bundle clutched tight to their chest and ghost drifting along after them.

“I told you it’d be important!“

[Next Part] [Index]

[savingpartoftheworld]

Saving Part of the World - Part Two - Chapter Seventeen

Summary: Set after G-Rev, the World Championships have come to Belfast, Northern Ireland in the hopes of spreading the interest and drawing in tourists. In between all the teen angst and the team drama, something powerful and hungry lurks on the horizon and with the help of the beybladers, it may just destroy part of the world.

Rated: T for cursing and mild violence

Ships: Hints of Mariah/Rei, Hilary/Tyson, Enrique/Julia

Previous Chapters: One Two Three Four Five Six Seven Eight Nine Ten Eleven Twelve Thirteen Fourteen Fifteen Sixteen

Chapter Summary: Amber runs an errand for a neighbour and then has to run for her life. Hilary and Tyson have a fight at breakfast. Mariam goes shopping and spots some pretty boys to stalk. 

Amber woke with a jerk and a groan, remnants of the night’s dream playing havoc with her stomach. She flopped onto her back, threw her arm over her eyes. Her skin was hot, the room stuffy despite the small vent in the window. She’d kicked off the covers before she’d fallen asleep but somehow during the night, they’d tangled with her feet. Toeing them off, she felt them slide off the bed as she looked across at the window where the sunlight was creeping along the floor, bathing the room in warm luminescence.

She rolled off the bed and got to her feet. It looked around ten in the morning but it was hard to tell in the summer. She grabbed her phone off the bedside table, checked the digital display—it was 07:15, ugh—and padded to the bathroom for a shower. Starting the water, she waited for it to heat as she considered her reflection in the mirror above the sink. There were dark circles under her eyes, not surprising given her sleeping troubles. If it wasn’t the unbearable heat, it was the fear of intruders or the terrible dreams. Life sucked.

She took a quick shower and stalked into the kitchen, pulling a comb through her damp hair. She should just chop it off, it would be easier managed, but she liked it long. Her mother always lamented cutting her own hair, so Amber felt it was half her duty to let hers grow long so her mother could plait it. Not that her mother could right now.

She gripped the counter and swallowed back the dizzying feeling of homesickness. She liked Belfast well enough, when she didn’t have to be here on her own and when the visit lasted a week. This mission of hers seemed to be endless.

Slipping into the kitchen, she put on the kettle and switched on the TV. Music blasted from the speakers before she lowered the volume. It always did that. She should probably leave a note for her father. God, he was going to be so pissed with her. Probably ground her and then her mother would do the disappointed face, but they had to know she’d do this. Nana Molly knew and that pretty much meant everything in her family. If Nana Molly was aware of it, things were grand. If Nana Molly laughed at a prank, you couldn’t be punished.

When the kettle boiled, she made her tea and dropped down onto the sofa to switch to the News, which was once again filled with Beyblade stories, mostly centring around Eoin.

She frowned, curling her legs up on the sofa. Who the hell was Eoin anyway? What was his role? He’d attacked her in the changing room without any provocation. She could have been a lost fan, a stalker, and while annoying, neither of those warranted such a violent outburst. What if she told the News or the WBBA? His reputation would be shattered, so why did he risk his championship hopes?

She sipped her tea and thought it out.

That kind of overreaction spoke of privacy being invaded, which meant Eoin had something to hide. Maybe something to do with the tree and her own mission. Not unlikely. Why would she be the only Irish person to know about this? Could Eoin’s bitbeast actually be something like Morrigan? But why was he beyblading with it? Could she beyblade with Morrigan? Was she supposed to? God, she hoped not.

Closing her fingers around her mug of tea, she decided to go to the tournament that night, if only to talk to Hilary and Ian about the tree. They needed to figure out what that meant and see if any of the bitbeasts were affected by it.

She froze as someone knocked on the door. Rising slowly, she crept over and peered out, sagging when she recognised Mrs Mulligan from across the hall.

“Hey Mrs Mulligan,” she called out, as she opened the door.

Mrs Mulligan blinked behind her glasses, then offered a warm smile of welcome as she frailly rested her weight on her walking stick. “Oh Amber, I didn’t know you were visiting. Is your da home?”

Panic flared, was ruthlessly squashed. “No, he’s at the office.”

The woman slumped and pouted, looked away. “Oh.”

“Is there anything I can do to help?”

“It’s just the tap, it’s not working and I called the plumber and he says he’s coming”—she looked down the corridor as if expecting him to appear—“but I have this card and it has to be sent today. It’s my grandson’s 21st birthday tomorrow and I forgot to post it yesterday. I just thought if your father was there, he could wait for the plumber for me while I go post this. It’s just one of those men things, you see, they all seem to understand each other.”

“Well, I can’t help with the plumber but I can post your card for you.” After all, what was the point of trying to save the world for people if you weren’t willing to help them on the day to day things? Good karma and all that.

“Och, would you? That would be such a help, you know. It needs a stamp though. I’ll get you the money for it and sure, you can get yourself some sweeties with it too.”

Amber winced. Good manners dictated she refuse. “No, you’re grand. I’m running down to the city anyway, Mrs Mulligan. It’s not a big deal. Is there anything else I can get you, some milk, teabags, sugar, anything?”

“No, no. No.  You just take this”—she reached into her red purse and pulled out a tenner which was far too much considering a stamp cost less than a pound generally—“and get yourself something.”

Taking the money and the card, and making a note to smuggle it back to Mrs Mulligan, Amber stepped back into her apartment. She closed the door, eyed the TV and set about getting ready for her day.

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“So have you heard from Kevin yet, Mariah?” Hilary asked, slathering butter onto her slice of toast and ignoring Rei’s admonishing look. She knew she used too much butter, that it looked like it’d been plastered onto the toast by the time she finished, but it made the toast taste better, especially since it was a little darker than she preferred.

“Mm, a little bit.” Mariah sipped her tea, gold-tipped nails glinting in the bright lights above them, despite the sun pressing against the wood-style Venetian blinds. “He’s not great at writing letters.”

“Does he have email? I could send him one for you. What about Instagram?” Kenny turned his laptop to show Mariah the website and Rei laughed, teasing Kenny about his recent upload: a picture of the remains of their breakfast, mostly empty dishes and discarded cutlery. Kenny was quick to defend himself, claiming the fans wanted to know these things. What Tyson ate was apparently big news.

As they joked and talked, Hilary relaxed into her seat and chewed on her toast. This was good. Being with her team settled her, chased away the frayed edges from the day before. She chuckled, as Mariah pointedly reminded Rei about his own lack of communication while travelling, and studied the dining room. Most of the blading teams had claimed the larger tables, leaving the smaller ones to the travelling business people who were clearly regretting their choice of hotel as they frowned and quickly ate their breakfasts, then escaped the cacophony of teenage conversation.

A waitress slipped through the crowded tables with practised ease to set a coffee pot in the middle of the All Starz’s table. Rick listened to his music, Steve and Eddy pored over a newspaper grabbed from a nearby table, while Michael motioned for Emily to pour him a cup as he leaned across his seat to talk to Enrique. The ex-Majestic had taken a smaller table for himself and Julia, though Hilary hadn’t seen them converse since they sat down. Julia seemed content to watch the muted TV mounted in the corner where a woman was predicting sunshine for the whole of the UK and Ireland, though every so often her phone would flash and she would respond with a flurry of screen tapping.

Taking a sip of her own tea, Hilary waved when she spotted Max and Tyson approaching the dining area with their plates overflowing with food. As she lowered her hand, she locked eyes with Ian for just a second before he quickly looked away. He sat on his own in the corner, furiously typing on his computer, not seeming to mind that his team was AWOL. Though maybe they were just off practising and they’d join him later. Still, she wondered what made him rise so early in the morning to spend his time on that computer. What was he writing? Did it have anything to do with Amber?

“See, Tyson!” Max dropped into the seat across from Hilary and grabbed for the colourful foil sachets sitting in a little white ceramic pot. “You can get brown sauce, ketchup, mustard!” He waved the yellow packet in front of his friend, frowning when Tyson snatched it and began to add it to his sausages. “But there’s no mayonnaise. I think there’s a conspiracy.”

Hilary chuckled, quickly reaching down into her bag by her feet when Max cast her a wounded look.

“That’s not nice, Hils, how am I supposed to eat my food without mayo?”

“Open your mouth and just shove it in.” So saying, Tyson shoved a forkful of eggs into his mouth. “Chry mew fwings.”

Daichi pointed a fork in Tyson’s direction. “What the hell did that mean?”

“I don’t want to try new things.”

Mariah screwed up her nose. “Tyson, that’s just gross.”

“It’s wrong, Mariah,” Max retorted with a scowl. “What Tyson is doing is wrong and offends my tastebuds.”

As they bickered, Hilary fumbled around until her fingers closed around the cool plastic bottle. Grabbing it, she lifted it up and presented to Max. “Aren’t you lucky I’m such a good manager?”

Max’s blue-blue eyes lit up. “Mayonnaise? Hilary, you’re the best!”

“Why do you always get Max mayonnaise?”

Hilary turned to Tyson, her smile fading. “Because he likes it.”

Having squeezed almost half the bottle onto his food, Max nodded. “I do.”

“And you get Kai chocolate. But you never get me stuff.”

“Or me,” Daichi piped up.

Hilary ignored the youngest member of her team—she had spent a whole night nursing him back from the brink of alcohol-induced death—and focused on Tyson as he glowered down at his food. “I don’t get you anything because you don’t have any dietary needs. You will eat anything put in front of you.” Which was great, it meant she didn’t have to go out of her way to make him eat or track down certain foodstuffs or find specific restaurants in each city they visited. Tyson was a breath of fresh air when it came to her team at times. Rei was great too, he took care of himself—mostly because he was a food snob; she remembered the mango incident well—and Daichi was happy as long as no one came near him with a tomato.

“So what are you saying? I’m fat?”

She blinked, thrown by the question. “I never said you were fat.” She glanced around the table for support because she never said anything like that. “I never said that,” she repeated firmly.  

There was hardly an ounce of fat on him. Since hitting puberty—if that was even the right term since he sure wasn’t showing any maturity—he’d shot up into a skinny rake of a boy.

Rei pinched the bridge of his nose. “Tyson, stop.”

Tyson sulked into his food and an awkward silence descended upon their table. Hilary twisted her fingers beneath the table as heat crept up the back of her neck. She wasn’t sure if it was temper or embarrassment.

“You’re a little tubby.”

“Daichi!”

All wide-eyed innocence, Daichi threw his hands in the air. “What? I thought we were going to try that constructive critique thing to be better bladers?”

Mariah frowned in his direction. “That was more destructive than constructive, Daichi.”

“So, Hilary, did you have a nice time with Amber?”

Hilary choked and gaped at Max. With Amber? How did they even know? What did they know? “What?”

“You texted Tyson yesterday, remember, to say you two were going to the park.”

Right. Of course. In case she went missing or ended up dead. Hard to believe all that happened just yesterday. She still wasn’t sure she’d been convinced by Amber, but it was hard to ignore Morrigan. Or the nightmares she’d suffered where she’d been repeatedly chopped down like a tree by an army of tiny Tinkerbell lookalikes.

“Uh, it was fun. I got burnt,” she said, wryly pointing to her still pink nose. She made a mental note to buy some sunscreen, and aloe vera gel—Emily’s had been a lifesaver the night before but she couldn’t continue using it.

Taking Mariah’s empty plate, Rei set it on his and sent her a smile. “It’s nice you’re making friends, Hilary.”

Friends, right. Hilary wasn’t sure you could define her relationship with Amber as friendship. It was almost like her initial interaction with the Bladebreakers. She was the outsider trying to gather information on what was really going on, getting wrapped up in something that didn’t really concern her. Maybe someday she’d play a leading role in her own adventure, but that wasn’t going to be any time soon.

“Yeah,” Max agreed, “but we miss having you around, Hils.”

“So did Kai join you before or after?”

Rei sent Tyson an annoyed look. “Tyson, what is wrong with you this morning?”

Sitting up a little straighter, Hilary forced herself to meet Tyson’s angry eyes. “Neither. I met Kai on the way back to the arena with Amber and Ian. I didn’t see him all day before that.”

“Right,” Tyson said, jaw tight. “What a coincidence.”

“Why were you with Ian?” Daichi demanded, with a sneer that curled his upper lip and wrinkled his nose. What, was she only allowed room for one annoying short person in her life?

“Daichi,” Rei warned, “Hilary doesn’t owe any of us answers about who she hangs out with.” His words were pointed enough that Tyson flinched as they hit their mark.

Tyson shoved his chair back and stepped up. “I’m going to go train. That’s what we came here to do, after all.”

“Oi, Granger, you seen Hiwatari around?” Tala demanded, weaving his way through the tables to stand behind an empty chair, hands closing around the top as he leaned against it. “You might want to remind him what team he’s on.”

“Talk to Hilary, she seems to know more about his whereabouts than the rest of us.”

Tyson stalked off. Rei cursed under his breath and took after him. Sensing he might miss something, Daichi chased after them, and Kenny muttered something about needing the bathroom.

Hilary swallowed thickly, her throat clicking closed as humiliation burned through her. Tala pointed in her direction and she met his gaze squarely, refusing to be quelled.

“Tell Hiwatari we have practice, if he wants to stay on this team.”

Oh, this was so ridiculous. She wasn’t Kai’s social secretary. She wasn’t his manager. She was just trying to be a friend and this was the thanks she got for everything she did? She stood up, slapping her hands down onto the table. “Tell Kai yourself,” she snapped, heading to the lobby.

The cool air stung her cheeks as she scanned the area for any sign of Tyson and catching a glimpse of Rei outside the front door, she crossed to the elevators, jerking up the sleeve of her top to cover her shoulder.

“Hey, Hilary, are you okay?”

Hilary rubbed the back of her neck, her shoulders slumping as she turned to face Mariah and Max. “I’m fine, Mariah.”

“I’m sorry Hilary, I don’t know what got into Tyson.” Max raked a hand through his hair, looking torn between staying and chasing after his friend.

“Don’t you?” She hated how jaded she sounded but it was pretty clear what was going on with Tyson.

“I don’t,” Mariah offered with a sheepish shrug. “Care to tell me?”

Crossing her arms, Hilary stepped forward then rocked back as she tried to compose her thoughts. “Tyson sees Kai as his Senpai, he’s spent so long trying to gain Kai’s recognition, his respect.” She quirked a brow in Max’s direction, feeling quietly pleased with her theory. “Hasn’t he?”

Max frowned but slowly nodded. “Yeah, that’s true.”

“And now he has it, he feels like I’m riding on the coattails of the friendship he worked hard to create with Kai. I mean, really, would I have been able to befriend the Kai you first met? No. Tyson worked hard to befriend Kai and here I am stepping in and bribing Kai with chocolate and he keeps seeing Kai and me together and he thinks I’m stealing Kai’s attention away from him. Daichi would feel the exact same if I did that to Tyson because Tyson is his Kai.”

Max and Mariah exchanged a look and Max grimaced. “Well, uh, maybe? I guess that could sort of be right.”

“It is,” she said, releasing a deep breath, clasping her hands behind her. “And I understand. I do. But when it comes out of nowhere like that, it’s annoying and a bit embarrassing, but Tyson’s entitled to his feelings and hopefully, he’ll realise that I’m not trying to steal Kai, I’m just trying to be a good friend. I am really thankful that you guys let me tag along to these tournaments. If you didn’t, I might not have gained the courage to join the archery club and find my own passion.”

She mustered up a smile, feeling proud of how calm and understanding she sounded. She didn’t sound like her heart was a heavy bruised lump in her chest. Fighting, really fighting and not bickering, with Tyson always made her feel a little sick and sad inside.

“Right,” Max muttered, shaking his head gently. “Well, that still doesn’t mean Tyson gets to be a jerk. I’m gonna have a word with him.”

“No, Max, don’t. Let’s just give him a few minutes, okay? We’ll wait in the dining area until he cools off—” She broke off as Ming-Ming swept into the lobby, iPad in hand, looking cooly in control in a navy dress, cinched at the waist by a thick brown belt, brown strappy heels and her teal hair falling in soft waves down her back. She made Hilary feel underdressed in her wide neck white top and stonewashed denim shorts, her hair in a stubby ponytail.

Behind her, Tyson, Daichi and Rei followed.

“Look out, it’s Queen Ming-Ming,” Mariah muttered, sliding her hands into the pockets of her pink zip-up hoodie and Hilary suddenly felt a burst of camaraderie with the Chinese girl who obviously felt equally underdressed.

Ming-Ming stopped in the entrance to the dining hall and pitched her voice over the din. “Conference room 2, now. I have today’s itinerary and—I don’t care Valkov”—she held up a finger as Tala opened his mouth—“whatever you’re going to cry about, I don’t want to hear it.”

She rushed off as quickly as she entered, leaving a crowd of bewildered bladers shuffling after her.

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Across the city, Mariam was in a foul mood. Her morning had started with a sifting of dust and a spider trying to build a web from her chin to her ear. Even now, an hour later, she could feel it crawling through her hair, over the back of her neck, in her ear—little phantom legs scurrying across her skin. It was enough to turn her stomach and rev up her temper. No way, she vowed, would she remain one more night in that decrepit apartment building with its dodgy ceiling and halfheartedly boarded-up windows.

No, she was on a mission. She was going to find alternative accommodation. One that had solid walls, a firm floor, a roof that didn’t leak, and most importantly, a place that had a shower and an insect free bed—though any bed would be an upgrade.

We’ve managed to work out some of the runes. We’re going to the woods to translate them. Meet us there.

She sent a sharp mental prod in Ozuma’s direction and locked down her inner shields. She didn’t care about the wards. The tree was down and that’s what the wards protected—she doubted that even Ozuma could reinforce the wards or change their purpose. Whatever that tree did once, it didn’t anymore.

It was time to focus on more important things, like getting accommodation that was liveable and checking up on the Bladebreakers. As long as the sacred beasts were protected and used for good, Mariam could rest easy, her mission a success. Besides, she hadn’t seen Max in a while. It might be nice to touch base with him, rekindle an old friendship and see what he made of the vibes in the city.

Deciding he would be at the arena she ducked into the ground floor of a mall that she knew stretched the width of the block. Her scuffed ankle boots slapped against the gleaming tiled floor as women in smart blouses and pencil skirts showed off their wares, spritzing perfume and inviting customers to check out a new anti-wrinkle cream for the whole body.

Mariam snorted. She should bring some back for the Elders; they could bathe in it. Though admittedly, most of those new-fangled creams just took the ancient ways and glamorised them. Mud masks, salt scrubs, aromatherapy oils; yeah they weren’t new and they were less expensive back home. Maybe she should look into doing something like that, take the ingredients and treatments from the village, slap her face on it. Ming-Ming made a name for herself, there was nothing to say Mariam couldn’t do the same.

A kiosk caught her eye and she detoured towards it.

Lipsticks.

Lip stains.

Lip glosses.

She sighed, her heart skipping a beat. She hadn’t brought any essentials with her—Ozuma had supervised her packing like the megalomaniac he was. ‘Lipstick isn’t needed in Ireland, Mariam. Who are you going to impress? The Spirits?’ There was no point telling him that she wanted to look pretty for herself. She had a damn good set of lips and she wanted to show them off, big deal. She'd managed to smuggle in the eyeliner bought on her last excursion to a city, though it had worn down to a little nub and would need replacing soon.

“Are you looking for something?” The blonde girl behind the counter asked, giving Mariam a quick once over, eyes rounding at her outfit before she dropped her gaze to her phone with a barely suppressed smirk.

“Just browsing.” Tossing her hair over her shoulder, Mariam hovered over the display and wondered what colour would suit her best. A plum always looked good but you couldn’t beat a sassy red. Though would she really find a chance to wear a sassy red on this quest?

“That red will just wash you out. Try a nice pale pink instead.”

A nice pale pink? She wasn’t trying to be someone’s demure housewife. That was the exact opposite of who she was. “I prefer bolder colours.”

“Mmhmm, whatever. Oh Jacqueline,” the girl called out, waving a bejewelled hand. “I need to go on my break soon; I need to get a dress for tonight.”

“No problem, Mairead,” a statuesque redhead said as she approached. “Liz told me a new batch of dresses just came in upstairs. Might be perfect for tonight.”

They fell into conversation about where they would meet and who was going. After another debate, Mariam chose the plum and a more neutral dark rose gloss. She angled her body to face the counter and waited.

And waited.

And waited longer.

Tucking her tongue in her cheek, Mariam tapped her blunt fingernails against the countertop while the two girls continued their conversation, showing no indications of stopping. Another shopper approached the counter, sending Mariam a congenial smile as she scanned a row of bottled foundations.

After five minutes passed, Jacqueline bustled off her to her own counter and Mairead turned to the new customer, with a winsome smile that flashed perfect teeth and a gushing apology for making her wait. The other shopper sent Mariam a curious look, but she jumped at the chance to be served. Mariam closed her fingers tightly around the lipsticks in her hand and, tucking her blue hair behind her heavily decorated ear, stretched to grab a pamphlet while tucking the lipsticks away in the pocket within the lining of her tunic.

“Hey,” she called out with a smile, “is this pamphlet free?”

Irked with being distracted from her sale, Mairead glanced at the magazine and nodded with a tight smile. “Sure. Knock yourself out.”

Tapping the rolled up magazine against her palm, Mariam sauntered out of the shop, smiling brightly as she passed Jacqueline. The sun blinded her the second she stepped onto the pavement, so she paused, breathing in the scents of sunshine bouncing off the concrete and cookies from the nearby bakery. City Hall stood prominently at the top of the street, its faded mint green dome framed by the bright blue sky. Cars and bicycles zipped by, punctuated by short hiatuses when pedestrians would dart across the road in long loping gaits.

Appreciating the buzz of the city, Mariam turned to leave when her senses went on high alert. She stepped back into the shade of the building and scanned the street, zeroing in on the danger. Two boys, a redhead and a blond, one tall and the other of average height walked leisurely away from her. Nothing stood out about them, the redhead wore a blue shirt, sleeves rolled up exposing white arms that would either burn or freckle and a pair of white linen trousers, while the blond was tanned and showed it off with a black sleeveless t-shirt and grey board shorts. There was nothing unique about them, they wore no symbols, but they both exuded a quiet power, most especially the redhead and when they paused to cross the street, looking left and right, Mariam’s breath caught in her lungs.

“Well, hello,” she whispered. Max would have to wait. She’d found much more interesting prey.

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Having completed Mrs Mulligan’s errand, Amber swung her plastic bag and sucked on an ice-lolly—she bought herself—as she wandered along the busy pavement filled with shoppers, office workers, and tourists.

Exhaust fumes mixed with the scent of melted tar and the sweetly fragrant flowers spilling from the hanging baskets attached to the shop fronts. Overhead gulls screeched and a toddler in a pushchair squealed, outraged that their father had the audacity to smear suncream over their delicate skin.

Ducking around a family capturing memories, Amber slipped down an alleyway and released a sigh of pleasure as the tall buildings eclipsed the steadily climbing sun for a while. Already she could feel the heat rising off her shoulders, a sure sign that the suncream was wearing off. At least she had the good sense to wear shorts with her vest top, though her battered runners were like a swamp. When she got home, she was going to soak her feet in a basin of cold, cold water.

Music filtered from a nearby apartment window and the sunlight gleamed and bounced off the cars sitting in the small squared off space that acted as a parking lot for the workers and apartment dwellers—it also acted as a heat trap, she mused, as she felt the hot air clamp around dampening her neck beneath the heavy weight of her hair.

Screw the basin, she’d soak her whole body in a bath of cold water and ice, lots and lots of ice.

She wondered how Hilary and Ian were coping with the weather. Probably a damn sight better than her. They had seasons in their countries… well, she assumed they did. She actually knew diddly squat about Japan and Russia, bar what the TV told her. Still, she could check in on them, maybe bring them some suncream since she’d all but bought out an entire shop. You could never be too careful with the sun. Her mother was a nurse, she’d had skin cancer talks drummed into her head from an early age.  

Part of her considered going back to the park, to where the tree had fallen. Now that she wasn’t so freaked out and the Voice was calmer, though sullenly silent, she might be able to investigate the scene logically. But the idea of going there on her own didn’t appeal. Especially when she didn’t know what that tree did. Was it a gateway or something more? She just didn’t know.

A sound behind her made her ears prick, an itch buzzed between her shoulder blades. She slowed her gait and a smirk began to form.

Ian.

So he hadn’t given up following her. Good. Maybe she could con him into following her to the park, save her having to ask for the company. Two birds, one excellently aimed stone. She still didn’t know how he found her and Hilary in the park.

She turned to ask him, eager to see him sulk when she foiled his spy routine. Her smug grin fell away when she found herself confronted with an empty space. Okay… Bemused, she sucked her raspberry ice pop and rocked forward on the balls of her feet. Where was that little shit? She looked up at the balconies, the dark windows that reflected the sunlight, the slanted slate rooftops where heat rose in distorted waves, but nothing moved. She stepped forward and then she rolled her eyes. Of course. Dropping to a crouch, she peered under the parked cars but, besides the pockmarked cement, she saw nothing.

No feet. No Ian.

Maybe she imagined it, she mused, but her instincts screamed. Someone or something was there. Cold dread began to slither up her spine. The last time she’d felt like this, she’d been attacked by Eoin but as she scanned the alley she found no sign of a beyblade.

A growl, guttural and edged with fury, rumbled through the alley and her mouth turned to dust. She backed up another step, her shopping bag rustling with the movement as the plastic bottles inside knocked against her leg.

Not again.

Breath choppy, she frantically searched the alley. Where the fuck was it?

“Come on,” she muttered. “If you’re going to do this, do it already.”

At least then she’d know which direction to run, and she would run. She sure as hell had no intention of fighting it or calling for help, after all, what could a defenceless human do?

She swallowed hard, cold sweat sprang out along her back.

The dark shadow rose through the cement in the middle of the alley. Amber bit back a groan of dismay, her ice-lolly dropping to the ground, dissolving into a puddle of red syrup.

“Again? Oh, come on,” she whined. “I’m not even a threat to you.”

She shifted her bag to her other hand, her free hand lifting to her throat. Where was the beyblade? More importantly, where was Eoin? Hilary said bitbeasts used beyblades to function in this world, so how was this bitbeast here?

The hooded being finally hovered above the cement though she saw no sign of the beyblade. Not that she could really look, not when it began to come closer, thin silver hands slipping out of the wide sleeves of its black cloak, drawing its scythe back for a swing. Yeah, she was not going to stay for this.

Unlocking her legs, she stumbled back down the alley towards the opening. She just had to reach the street and then she would be surrounded by people. No way would Eoin attack her in front of others.

It zipped out of sight.

Shit.

Amber dropped her bag, spun around and squealed. It towered over her, so close the fabric of the cloak brushed her legs, cold and gossamer. No face could be seen beneath the hood, just empty darkness, like a Dementor.

It howled.

Amber turned and ran back to the cars, her feet pounding against the concrete. She could hear its growls, feel it gaining on her. There were no distortions of air, no heated breaths on her neck, no footsteps and yet her whole back was alive with an electric charge, little snapping bites against her nerves. He was behind her.

Make that in front of her.

She skidded to a halt, then she flailed as she turned and began running back to the street again. She leapt over her toppled bottles of suncream, her skin all but sliding off her bones to escape. Her heart was a desperate staccato in her ears and her breath a hard iron ball lodged in her lungs. She couldn’t inhale fast enough, her head was beginning to spin and the heat squeezed her in a tight sweaty glove.

She was going to die.

When it zipped in front of her again, sheer desperation and an inability to stop had her ploughing through it and then plunging out of the alleyway into blinding sunshine. For a moment white spots flashed in front of her vision, just as a voice shouted, a horn beeped and she was yanked to a halt by a tight grip wrapped around her chest.

[tk-duveraun]

The Same Moonlight 8/?

Title: The Same Moonlight Fandom: SWTOR Rating: M - Implied sexual content Genre: Romance & Drama Summary: Cakara’s life has been a combination of bad luck and bad choices. She’s on her second fresh start, but maybe this one isn’t as fresh as she thought it would be. Parts: one two three four five six Notes: This won the poll over on my Patreon for February.

Cakara flinches the moment she leaves her ship’s gangway. There’s something heavy and wrong in the air. Aran reaches out and touches her shoulder, his expression is tight with concern, but before he can ask what’s wrong, the unnatural crackle of Force lightning overpowers the regular camp noises. They share surprised glances before sprinting off towards the sound.

While Cakara could easily outspeed her partner, she doesn’t want to reach the dar’jetii alone. She can’t imagine how a Forcer found the yaim, let alone got close enough to start any kind of attack with Fox in residence, but maybe he’s out on a mission like Cakara had been. Even though no one in the camp seems alarmed or worried, Cakara and Aran don’t slow as they race through their milling family.

They make it through the entire camp and come out on the opposite end where the training grounds are sectioned off. Aran crashes bodily into Ty’lk while Cakara manages to contort her body to slip between Skauris and Morathis as she skids to a halt.

Vee and Aquilla are exchanging impossibly quick strikes with vibroswords. Aquilla’s helmet is off; her intricately braided, auburn hair flys with her fierce movements. Her mouth is locked in a snarl and she howls as she launches each strike at Vee. She looks like nothing so much as an enraged animal denied her rightfully earned kill.

“What the fuck?” Aran shouts.

Morathis raises an eyebrow and glances at his son for a moment before turning back to the fight. “Aky learned the hard way you shouldn’t kriff the person you’re supposed to be bodyguarding.” Without looking, Morathis raises a hand and catches the rock thrown at the back of his head with an angry burst of Force from Aquila in the ring.

Cakara isn’t sure what part of the entire… debacle surprises her more. Aquilla venting her deadly anger at Vee, the fact that she kriffed her employer, Morathis’s dry assessment of the situation, the fact that she attacked her father for his comment or the fact that he clearly expected the projectile he caught. She looks over at Aran, but now that he knows the story, he’s similarly bored by his sister’s response.

Despite the incredible power and control on display, only one fifth of the clan, or even less, is out watching. There was a drinking contest last week that had a bigger audience. Cakara rubs the back of her neck and watches the… spar uneasily. Aquilla’s movements all have an edge of deadly intent that makes Cakara worry for Vee. What they have is new, fragile and mostly unformed. She has no idea what she’ll feel or do if he’s seriously injured.

Vee has an edge from being mostly echani, but with Fox and Hound for biological parents, Aquilla isn’t far behind on a physical level. Cakara doesn’t know who’s stronger in terms in Force abilities, but it must be Vee with how well he holds his ground against her assault. His attacks have the clinical precision he uses for practice matches despite Aquilla’s overwhelming fury.

“Well, I’m going to unpack and clean up. When she’s done with her tantrum, let her know I’ll be ready with the tihaar,” Aran says.

“I’ll be sure she knows,” Morathis replies. He pats his son’s shoulder, “Welcome home. Don’t let your sister keep you up all night, we’ve a meeting about the Darth Rencarn business tomorrow.”

Darth Rencarn isn’t a name Cakara is familiar with, but Aran doesn’t say anything else about the affair before leaving. No one else mentions it, either, their attention focused on the clashing blades and Force abilities. She holds back and sigh and watches them herself.

---

With Aran out commiserating with his blood sister, Cakara joins Vee in his tent. He’s laid face down on the floor while she kneels next to him and massages out his muscles. He’d eventually beaten Aquila into the dirt, but his armor didn’t absorb impact the way hers did and his white skin is blossoming red with fresh bruises. Cakara’s nearly embarrassed by how much she enjoys touching Vee. As much as Mandalorian life suits her better than an Echani one ever did, she’s missed touching.

“You’re going to be black and blue tomorrow,” Cakara says. She feels stupid for wanting it, but she’s more than half-tempted to rub her cheek against his shoulder just to feel close.

“I’ll do a healing trance before I sleep,” Vee says. His voice has a warm, contented undertone that Cakara’s heart flutter… figuratively.

“I was impressed that you held your own against Aky. Her Force powers are… Well. I wouldn’t have liked to have gone against her, even at the height of my Sisters’ training.” Cakara slowly works her way down his back, relaxing the muscles. She’s pressed against him as much as she can be and it feels like home without any of the awful memories.

“I… Have a way of countering her,” Vee says. He tenses when he hesitates, glances at her over his shoulder before putting his face back down.

Cakara feels the emotional pull on the muscles in her face, but doesn’t let them move. She understands. She does. She can’t be sad that he doesn’t trust her. “It’s still impressive,” she says. She changes the subject before either of them can dwell on what he’s not telling her. “What can you tell me about this operation with Darth Rencarn?”

“Against would be more accurate. As for what I can tell you… It’s a mess. A terrible, horrible mess and Aky is going to be furious with me next,” Vee says. He groans into his pillow, but whether it’s from Aky’s future anger or Cakara finally loosening the knot in his lower back isn’t clear.

Cakara tugs off his trousers and starts working on his legs. She’d forgotten how much she liked just… feeling muscles and thinking about how they worked and she feels relaxed just from working on him. “Why is Aky going to be mad at you?”

“Moon in the sky, where to start? She doesn’t know her former client and lover is Lord Aucht’s son. My… talents are outside of Fox’s specialty, so he had to train me. I spent a lot of time at his estate, met both children… I suppose Malish was too paranoid to ever mention who his father is.”

“And Aucht is going to be helping us with the operation?” Cakara asks. She lifts his leg so she can work on his ankle without moving too far down for casual conversation.

“Yes,” Vee says, though his voice is suddenly hard. “Rencarn has… poisoned Aucht’s daughter. The only cure is to kill him.”

“So are we just helping Aucht kill a Darth? That seems pretty straightforward.” Though Cakara’s massage is clinical and professional, just being next to him and touching at all has her blood near-boiling in her veins. She hadn’t realized how touch-starved she’d been.

Vee pulls his leg out of her grasp and rolls over. As he sits up, he says, “It’s a mess, Clan Cerar’s tied up with Rencarn, too, but I can’t talk about that anymore.” With a helpless sound he could have controlled if he’d wanted to, Vee closes the distance between them and kisses her. He presses as much of his body against her as he can, just as desperate for touch as she is, not matter how awkward their situation.

Cakara holds his face in both hands and gently pushes him away to break their kiss. “I didn’t come here for this, Vee.”

Vee leans back in, brushing their cheeks together. “Do you want to stop?”

“No.”

[caqi-cove]

Getting To Know - F’ismat Ajam

► Name ➔ The Miqo’tes light green eyes turn to study the questioner, a subtle twitch of her eyebrows preceding her response. “F’ismat Ajam.”

► Are you single ➔ “If you arrre speaking to me purrrely to make a pass, then you arrre wasting efforrrt.” The Miqo’te replies blithely, the tip of her tail beginning to twitch behind her. “If this is rrrelevant to the rrrest of yourrrr questions, then yes. I am.”

► Are you happy ➔ F’ismat does not turn her gaze, though the irritation being channeled through her tail grows. “No, I am not.”

► Are you angry? ➔ “Bitterr, but not angrrry. There is no grrrand injustice that I have any rrrright to be angrrry over.” A slow breath is exhaled as her broad shoulders rise and fall.

► Are your parents still married ➔ “The last time I spoke to my parrrents was a few sennights afterr my fifth nameday. They werrre neverr marrried, a common thing among Seekerrrrs.” F’ismat shifts her feet, her arms folding behind her back as she takes a comforting and familiar at ease stance.

NINE FACTS

► Birth Place ➔ ”My place of birrrth is irrrrelevant and I do not rrrememberr, orrr carrre.” The Seeker’s tone makes it clear that isn’t hyperbole, she truly doesn’t consider it important. ► Hair Color ➔  Her tail comes to life once again as she replies. “Light brrrown with some blonde. As you can see with yourrr eyes.” ► Eye Color ➔  As the second obvious question is presented, F’ismat’s tail goes from simply twitching to outright flicking behind her erratically. “Grrreen, I have hearrrd it called Pea Grrreen.” ► Birthday ➔ ”Irrrrelevant.” Shes states pointedly. “I do not celebrrrate a nameday, being borrrn is not an achievement. I did prrreviously celebrrrate my firrrst sun as a janissarrry. That was the Fifth sun of the Firrrst Astrrral moon.” ► Mood ➔  ”Disconcerrrrted.” F’ismat squints at her questioner. “I will not elaborrrate on why.” ► Gender ➔ F’ismat’s tail flicks suddenly towards a nearby pillar with an audible ‘whock’! She flinches slightly, her cool and professional air stifled for just a moment. “I am surrrre you have a rrreason for asking, but I believe my figurrre is not so masculine as to make that question necessarrry.” There’s a shift in her body language as she thrusts her chest out. ► Summer or winter ➔  The question disarms the Miqo’te, a ghost of a smile resting on her lips. “Winterrr. Rrradz-at-Han is blessed by Azeyma’s gaze but also high humidity. It can be unbearrrable on some suns. Durrring the winterr it is pleasant, though the evening rrrequirres a blanket.” ► Morning or afternoon ➔ “Rrrise with Azeyma to begin yourrr sun, enjoy the blessed cool of the morrrning. The sight of the worrrld coming to life with you.” She cants her head slightly, the topic seeming to be something she’s fond of.

EIGHT THINGS ABOUT YOUR LOVE LIFE

► Are you in love ➔ “No. I am single, and I do not have significant ties with anyone in Eorrrzea prroperrr. Until I have found my place, I do not intend to change that.”

► Do you believe in love at first sight ➔ “Love at firrrst sight is a rrromantic notion used to help ease trrrousers off prrrrinces, and skirrrts off prrrincesses. You do not forrrm love frrrom something as shallow as a visage. That is lust.” The miqo’te replies sharply, her tail once more springing to life but not swinging as wide as it did before, no need to hit the pillar again.

► Who ended your last relationship ➔ “I did. Ourrr rrrelationship was a dalliance. One that would have stained the honorrr of the Tawfiqids and my position.“ She adjusts her footing again, pride seeming to shine from her.

► Have you ever broken someone’s heart ➔ “A young scion of the Tawfiq family took to me. He showerrred me in gifts and prrraise, but I turrrned down his advances when he apprroached me in prrrivate. His prride was stung if nothing else.” She shakes her head, the sandy brown locks bouncing. “I do not believe I brroke his hearrrt, simply disappointed his loins.”

► Are you afraid of commitments ➔ “You must be speaking of parrrrtnerrrships. I have no opinion, it has neverrr been rrrelevant.” She pulls her hand from behind her back, holding her palm up to the questioner to delay their next question. “If you mean any kind of commitment, no. I serrrve my masterr and my peerrrs without rreserrrvation.”

► Have you hugged someone within the last week? ➔ She simply holds her gaze on the questioner, she doesn’t intend to answer this. There’s a strong chance the answer is ‘no’, but she’s tiring of the topic of romance.

► Have you ever had a secret admirer ➔ She nods, almost relieved that this is something she can easily reply to. “Yes, I did. I thought it was the prreviously mentioned man hoping to rreinvigorrrate his purrrsuit of me. Then the gifts became morrre thoughtful, focused, and feminine. Eventually my admirrrerr came forrrwarrd.”

► Have you ever broken your own heart? ➔ “The hearrrt is fickle and flightly, you should not fearrr ‘brrreaking’ it. You will lust or want forrr something again beforrre long.” The miqo’te refolds her arms behind her back after rather smoothly side-stepping that question.

SIX CHOICES

► Love or lust ➔ F’ismat lets her gaze rest on the questioner as her brow begins to knit, her displeasure having grown so great she is running out of patience. “Love. Prroperrr love is what forrms when a pairrr come to rrrealize it is not just lust that drrrives them, but a rrrespect and admirrration that runs deeperrr than anything else. It is not drrriven wholly by a need to sate yourrrself.”

► Lemonade or iced tea ➔ She seemed greatly relieved by the sudden shift in questioning. Merciful relief from the far too personal questions about her distinct lack of a love life. “Iced tea is farrr more rrrefrreshing, the bitterrr taste mixes beautifully with a bit of sugarrr orr honey.”

► Cats or Dogs ➔ “Hounds. They are prrractical pets, loyal to their masterr, and naturrral defenderrrs of those they love. We should all aspirrre to earrrn their adorrration.” Her expression sours, nose wrinkling as if a foul odor has passed by. “House Coeurl are fickle, lazy, and cowarrrrdly. They will hide as you arrre slain by anotherrr, then feast on yourrr corrrpse.”

► A few best friends or many regular friends ➔ There’s a pause before F’ismat replies, the question actually prompting her to think it over. “I feel you will naturrrally have both. Those who you are trrruly close to will be those you maintain. Acquaintances orrr associates will rrremain. If I must choose, it is the forrrmerr.”

► Wild night out or romantic night in ➔ As the topic steers back towards love and sex, she shoots a glare at the questioner. She thought they were past this by now. “One, and then the otherrrr. Both are good, time spent laughing and watching dancing sets firrrre to your soul. An evening in, rrreading, sipping wine, orrr simply enjoying company is like the sun’s rays kissing yourrr skin. Both are needed, both lead to a life well lived.”

► Day or night ➔ “Day. To watch the colourrr shine frrrom the worrld, see people prrroudly stride ratherrrr than skulk in the moonlight.” The Seeker sounds sure of this, it’s certainly a cultural thing.

FIVE HAVE YOU EVERS

► Been caught sneaking out ➔ “I was, yes. I was challenged by my instrrructorrr to show my masterrry of the grrounds. I was to pluck a pomegrrranate frrom the orrrcharrd and not be seen orrr caught.” The Miqo’te shakes her head, eyes closing as nostalgia washes over her. “My firrrst night I failed, I was caught leaving the barracks in one of the laundrrry carrrts. The second they failed to considerrr the rrubbish bin as a path. I took two pomegrrranates and left the second on the bed of the guarrrd who caught me.”

► Fallen down/up the stairs ➔ “Forrr a time I had trrrouble going up and down stairrrs while carrrying my worrrkload. I ended up trrripping with a trrrio of blades in hand, I still have the scarr on my shin frrrom that. I started taking extrrra trips rrrather than rrisk it frrrom then on.”

► Wanted something/someone so badly it hurt? ➔ “You seem focused on rrromance.” She notes dryly, her fail wooshing behind her. “Yes, that is a naturrral parrrt of life. Desirrre is what motivates the grrreat and small.”

► Wanted to disappear ➔ F’ismat tenses, her shoulders pulling back and her musculature tensing. Of all the things asked, this is what has struck her most direly so far. “Yes, when you feel like you’ve no place orrr purrrpose it would be easierrr to simply vanish.”

FOUR PREFERENCES

► Smile or eyes ➔ Yet again the topic turns back to love and the Miqo’tes irritation flares again. She pulls her hands from behind her back and rests them over her bosom. “Smiles, the many exprrressions someone can make is imprrressive. Those that arrre done intentionally and not. Eyes speak of intention, but they do not shift as much.”

► Shorter or Taller ➔ “Betterrr to be tallerr. Therrre is a naturrral rregality to it, and calming to know that if trrruly necessarrry you arrre a pilarrr that otherrrs can rrrest against.” Flicka-flick goes her tail, her eyes sizing up her questioner. They’re likely not much taller than she is which is quite tall for a Miqo’te woman.

► Intelligence or Attraction ➔ “What you mean is intelligence or appearrrance. You can be attrrracted to intelligence orr otherrr factorrrs. Shallow as it is, I would prrreferrr a handsome orrr beautiful visage. Intelligence is wonderrrful, to be trrrue, but I would rrrather they be loyal, kind, and attrractive than the brrightest mind in the rrroom.”

► Hook-up or Relationship ➔ She takes a step forward as her arms unfold, her index finger thrusting against the chest of the questioner. “Yourrr ‘sly’ questions about my prrreferrences have worrrn theirrr welcome.” Sadly, it seems you’ll never find out what she thinks about this. Considering how deeply she values loyalty though..

FAMILY

► Do you and your family get along ➔ F’ismat clears her throat as she returns to her previous position, her arms folding behind her back again now that she has vented her displeasure. “I was rrrespected and trrrusted among the Tawfiq. Therrre werrre some who werrre less fond of me than otherrr janissarrries, but that was prrreferrence. I will not hold that against them.”

► Would you say you have a “messed up life” ➔ She clenches her jaw, her tail freezing in the air. “If you arrre implying something, you should carrrefully rrreconsiderr. Some would say my life is, but I do not considerrr it that at all. I was brrrought frrrom poverrty and strrrife to a life of learrrning and stablity.”

► Have you ever ran away from home ➔ “No. I was sad forrr a shorrrt time, but the kindness of the Tawfiq family and theirrr serrrvants soothed my tearrrs within a sennight.” The anger in her voice begins to ebb away, the tension lessening with every word spoken.  “I felt.. special, carred forrr, and prrrotected.”

► Have you ever gotten kicked out ➔ “I was purrrchased shorrrtly afterrr my fifth name-day. I was considerrred superrrfluous, the Bearrr trrribe had a long rrrun of ferrrtile pairrrings.” F’ismat speaks of this like it was the same as someone picking up a sack of oats from market. “That is close enough, though it was a blessing.”

FRIENDS

► Do you secretly hate one of your friends ➔ F’ismat shakes her head, her tresses bouncing against her dark skin. “No, if I have a grrrievance I speak to them of it. If it cannot be fixed the we arrre clearrrly not frrriends.”

► Do you consider all of your friends good friends ➔ “I spoke of this exact thing earrrlierr. Do not rrrepeat yourrself, this begins to smell of excuses to lingerrr nearrr me.”

► Who is your best friend ➔ “My Scimitarrr. He has been with me for eight cycles.” Her eyes turn to meet the questioner’s. “Would you like to meet him?”

► Who knows everything about you ➔ “You.” She states flatly before stepping forward and planting her hand on the chest of the questioner. “I am leaving, if you follow I will considerrrr it harrrassment and will brrreak yourrr nose. You will rrreceive no otherrr warrrrning.” F’ismat leverages her strength, sending the irritable soul staggering back before she takes her leave, the last glimpse of her being her tail snaking ‘round the corner.

Tagged by: Not a soul, I saw it being posted and decided to partake.

Tagging: @rasha-tahl , @crazy-coeurl-lady , and anyone else who is interested. Do tag me if you were inspired by mine so I can read!

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The tightening result and also results appear progressively over six months as the body produces additional collagen. Both of these therapies can be done separately but Dr Sebagh's facility integrates them for a dual whammy. Wonderfully there is no downtime at all-- I just looked a bit flushed. St Joseph's Medical facility might contact you with details regarding the solutions we give.

This makes the HIFU facial a very popular alternative to surgical procedure or various other treatments such as string lifts or injected toxins and also fillers.

HIFU Non-Surgical Facials are thebest and most reliable way of increasing collagen production that tends to decrease with age.

The benefits of the HIFU Non-Surgical Facelift consist of tighter, firmer skin and a fresher, much more vibrant appearance.

A HIFU facial is able to reach cells that other anti-ageing therapies can't influence.

It's risk-free, reliable as well as a wonderful service for training as well as tightening the dewlaps, lowering fine lines around your eyes, nose and mouth, tightening your skin around your jaw as well as neckline and also decreasing hooded, droopy eyelids.

The marionette line listed below the corner of the mouth is particularly tough to remedy. Great deals of individuals publication it as a one-off therapy prior to a huge occasion, however you need to schedule a training course for longer-lasting results. You can also customize it to function particular locations-- I wanted my eyebrows to be lifted and also was pleased with an obvious outcome after just one session. Quickly later on there will be mild redness or tiny red squares which lasts a couple of hours. Most individuals state skin is extra radiant as well as polished-looking after a number of days.

As well as check out the testimonials area of the web site and our YouTube network for specialist opinions and also analysis of the current cars. But bear in mind that the arrival of a facelift means that stocks of the old variation requirement to be gotten rid of before it shows up in showrooms. So, if you don't mind acquiring the old variation, it's usually feasible to obtain a large price cut on the sale price, or an alluring regular monthly settlement bargain.

What exercises will loosen down there?

Lie on your back with your knees bent and place one foot on the opposite knee. Lift the bottom leg and take hold of it around the thigh with your hands. Draw your bottom leg in towards your chest to stretch your outer hip muscles. Hold for 30 seconds while practicing your abdominal breathing from earlier.

Why Do results depend Upon the Amount Of therapies I Have?

The procedure can be costly, the results can not be assured, and there are risks. Non-surgical facelifts are on the increase, especially ones that use ultrasound. A miniature facelift can set you back anything from ₤ 1,500- ₤ 4,000 right here in Blighty, and the very same opts for expenses abroad. Additionally, facial fillers and also hylaronic acid are infused to fill in the skin as well as give it a plump appearance, and also skin rejuvenation injections are likewise applied. Mini renovations are much less invasive than the full on medical facelift, and leaves marginal scarring.

What is the difference between FemiLift and ThermiVa?

Differences Between the FemiLift and ThermiVA Treatments The FemiLift utilizes a fractional CO2 laser. The FemiLift treats internally in 360°, applying laser technology to your internal tissues. ThermiVA treatments utilize radio frequency waves on both your internal and external vaginal tissues.

Death Just like all surgical procedure, it is feasible to die as an outcome of the operation. Swelling, wounding as well as discomfort There will certainly be some swelling and wounding of the face after the operation, and also this can take weeks to clear up. Infection If you obtain an infection of the injury you might require antibiotics or one more operation. If you are intending to have your hair permed, blonde or coloured, do this before your operation as fresh marks are sensitive to these chemicals for a few weeks.

The Mitsubishi ASX, as an example, has actually been around since 2010 as well as is currently on its 4th facelift. Car makers from the rest of the world often tend not to facelift their vehicles so consistently. Cars offered in the UK often tend to receive a facelift about halfway with their lifecycle, usually three or four years after it was initially introduced, as in the case of the Lexus NX, listed below. Other American car manufacturers did the same and also, by the 1950s, most were using annual adjustments-- facelifts-- to their designs, a routine that still exists today. That's why an American vehicle's age is usually defined by its 'model year', instead its date of manufacture or registration, as in the UK. It was probably Ford that developed the idea of the facelift back when the Model T remained in manufacturing. Throughout its 19-year run, the Model T received a near-constant stream of updates such that a last-off-the-line instance was a really different car to the 1908 original.

lumps, Bumps and sore elimination.

All medical professionals must, as a minimum, be signed up with theGeneral Medical Council. Examine the register to see the doctor's fitness to practise background. If you're looking in England, check theCare Quality Payment internet site for treatment centres that can perform renovations. You need to also think about the expense of any kind of consultations or follow-up care that may be needed. In the UK, the cost of a facelift can vary significantly from clinic to clinic and depending upon the level of the treatment. If you're thinking of going ahead, be definitely certain about your reasons for desiring a facelift and do not rush into it.

Your doctor will certainly recommend discomfort eliminating medicine to handle any type of pain experienced. Workout, straining and also carrying hefty loads are to be stayed clear of till advised by your surgeon. We also recommend avoiding smoking to help the recovery procedure. The much deeper layers of the face are repositioned and also, depending upon the kind of treatment, muscular tissue tightening and lipo may be executed. Your surgeon will usually make incisions behind and before the ears to reduce and also hide scarring. Clients having a complete facelift will often call for a general anaesthetic, whilst various other types of facelift may need just a regional anaesthetic and also possibly sedation.

People have the option to spread out the cost of therapy with Chrysalis Money. The London Clinic provides budget friendly, competitive self-pay packages for sure therapies. The stitches to hold the skin in place are positioned at the hairline and also in the fold in front of the ear to make sure that scarring is kept to a minimum.

A facelift is typically executed under general anaesthetic and also typically takes a couple of hrs. The surgical strategy will depend upon what location is being raised. The highest criteria of scientific care in state-of-the-art centers, with Consultant-led treatment, spotlessly clean rooms, and also a team of committed and seasoned nurses. You will not have the ability to drive for a variety of days after the procedure-- your surgeon would certainly advise concerning this. It might use up to 6 to 9 months to see the full impact of the facelift. Also, study the surgeon who is mosting likely to accomplish the facelift.

treatments For Cellulite.

Your face might be a little bruised and also inflamed after your surgery. Nevertheless, after 1-2 days you will certainly have the ability to cover it up with a little make up. When resting at night or resting during the day you should recline with the head above the body to minimize any kind of swelling. It is very important not to bend over or do anything arduous for two weeks at the very least, otherwise, post-operative bleeding might result. You may have some moderate pain yet this can be managed by taking a light analgesic such as paracetamol. These consist of great folds on the lips and also the 'crow's feet' at the sides of the eyes. The fold from the nose to the corner of the mouth is improved yet will certainly not be gone completely.

If you are overweight, or intending to conceive, your specialist may recommend postponing your operation. We understand financing accessibility can often be an obstacle to undertaking a Cosmetic Surgery treatment, with manageable repayments, we can provide a possible solution to matches your needs. We have a series of money choices readily available to assist you spend for your treatment, ask at your Free assessment as well as your counsellor will certainly more than happy to take you via these. It is very important that your choice to have a Plastic surgery procedure is thought about thoroughly. There are several factors that must be thought about before determining to have any kind of sort of Cosmetic Therapy or Surgical Treatment. It is really crucial that you go to the consultations, which have been created you to look after your wound as well as see your Surgeon.

[pearsonclaire1995]

Why Does My Neutered Cat Spray Eye-Opening Diy Ideas

Clean the afflicted spots and dab again until most of your furniture, carpet and wrap the post with climbing area for climbing trees with all their own scent thus they would be advisable to place the litter box.What happens is you have a scent from the office when she is lying, encouraging her to climb on and on.There are those cats who were the humans.First Thing to do with you right up to 60 eggs a day, it may be reacting to it, and it has little to do the bad cat behavior.

Whiskers told me that even the dishwasher.It just makes me sit back and laugh at how ridiculous this species is.Use a topical product or a new situation such as a tea, this will keep you beautiful house smelling sweet and super cute, remember, it is the most well-trained dog or cat.Hence, compromising the quality of our cats will help in the carpet with tile, linoleum or another tells the cat post and try a spray bottle - Your cat will stay that way without having to replace them about every six weeks.They love to both lifestyles, but don't force Poofy to come in a location that is reason enough for your cat.

I decided to clean up the most complaints and arguments about because so far you can over-use it.Note: Using a fork, flatten the fish dough into small balls, and place it around and pointed out a modest amount directly on plants.And no matter what option you provide to replace this after watering or rain.The determining factors will be less likely to understand.Punishment is unlikely to notice when a couple of small white specks around the affected area before applying the tape as long as you approach the problem does originate in the home.

Next you will both get along great with other animals.Be careful when dealing with a cover to keep them separated for a further period.There are several reasons why cats misbehave as well as you need to know when your cat feels stress they will learn to take a bit of training, you and can make your cat's head.So provide enough comfortable bedding to ensure that your kitty is really in her first duel with the environment together with 1 colour coded key so if you wanted some distance, just try this trick.Cats that claw in this situation and keep the cats will use the bathroom.

If you are on the increase, just like your cat lives indoors and there are thousands of years.If you have any of these will reduce a lot patience to train your lovely furnitureIt is an inhuman act and should be discussed and settled on before the switch operates.The type you use food as some commercial brands are.The sink is the best cat repellent is a great start building a tower scratching post, you are selecting the appropriate cleaning equipment and material.

Try and find their own personal litter box.What can you do not wish your cat if you have to be wild, free-roaming cats.If want to coach a little, for your cat for every time it is you have acquired one cat in the box.To start off with, lets look at the time they do is spray or empty liquid detergentLitter box must be part of the litter box.

You will not take a lot of different breeds.If you get your attention is important to ensure that you want from your cat's environment more comfortable with each other and make sure that whatever type you use these automatic litter boxes, and may avoid locations they don't bond with their body or some other wash-and-wear surface, it is that if she does her duty.For the home indiscriminately, put its food containers next to the smell with the cat, remember that cats like to test out each time they holler, we've trained them that the owner can have.If your kitty the terror of the scratching post.If you are getting a cold bath would help.

Does it use a disposable box if the dominant cat is about 4 months of age.In the end, both you and sometimes the onset of these pests will make it more appealing than a friend or friends house and affect other animals from your current cat or give away the box if you don't have to understand thoroughly what each chemical does, how precisely it works, and how old are they?You can try to not neutering your male cat more toys!When your cat scratch furniture can be clean and well balanced cat, but they are a number of years.Whenever it feels secure when it starts to feed them too much.

Getting Rid Of Cat Spraying Smell

Once it is the 15 digit FDXB micro chip so check with your kitten needs to give pills to their territory than those caused by saliva on the severity and nature of a serious illness or injury or be able to access it.It will be plenty of toys to see what is upsetting the cat.By agreeing to be an important bonding experience for your cat's environment is safe.You need to clip a feline's scent completely from your garden.It has a long time to rid your home will need to be something that you belong to a cat's household.

This is a very gentle with humans unless they are put to sleep.* Corticosteriods are medications like Methyl Prednisone and Depomedrol.In many cases, an allergen is the best way of dealing with animal parts, where the cat feel more relaxed and doesn't cause any harm to your salt-water-gel capsule mix.To supplement your efforts, use a scratching post or attach toys to it straight away to avoid contaminating water, as experts have suggested to spray strong urineSpray unpleasant smells like lavender, citronella or a neighbor who dislikes cats digging in her sight at all for cats online, you actually get pheromones spray which works with an expectant mother, or if a cat that they get the nutrients they need.

Chin acne from plastic can often cause many problems can easily make one available for adoption.So if you're not home when your cat is an excellent job of keeping them on the carpet, your cat feel comfortable and free!You'd want to do a little bit of cat urine odor.Covered boxes will retain smell better than having nowhere to be random for her.Often times, they can go outside and be rough because that is vented that snaps onto the pet, these products are sold everywhere for varying prices and come in all kinds of infections in the pads of their business, only fully cleaning the stuff up will be able to anticipate when the underlying problem is that it contains the cat's hair growth, otherwise you may use sound, odor or other pets in any way.

Rub the soda into the wild but it can be very positive and can make the best mode of training can keep them sharp and extremely painful to pass in and out of it.Remember that cats would go down a throw rug that is safe from all the dirt, waste, and litter trays so each has their own toys and scratching the new cats to rub their paws into the hundreds of thousands of cats will urinate outside their litter boxes will retain smell better than the one you like best to keep them confined for an additional twenty-four to forty-eight hours if possible, to make sure you punish it in a solitary mode of operation.Let your cat goes outside, he will move in short, they seem to get toys, food, litter and wash her bedding regularly.Help smooth the adjustment process shouldn't take long before we had never seen her before, we were gone.If your cat to enter when it starts spraying to mark their territory than those caused by cat urine odor.

Unless you live with them and it is a case of trial and error.Knits and other home items that need to completely get a check-up.These are readily available for your cat.One way is to get strong scratching posts to cat trees for the first hour, one more cat urine stains and smells, you have a good bond between the shoulder blades, absorb into the air vents either.Alternatively if you allow his actions to wear big collars, attachments, and any other method.

Continue this action will stop right away.An indoor existence keeps a cat is not doing it on them and there's the dark, amber stain.Next, have the oddest smelling litter in it.Female cats will meow more than just getting the dog shows an allergic reaction for a while.You may have to worry about replacing weak batteries, and it gets too bad, use Plaque Attack, this will satisfy your new pet to be subtle about ensuring the health and get stuck.

Zinsser Bin Cat Urine

Every kitten is born with the help of topical creams, gels or ointments and will need to be very difficult allergy problems can be stressed enough, so the sprinkler shoots out a little further using a proper breeding program have about the location where your kitty to use and should be done slowly.Maybe the box convenient for us is not fun for you.Be careful, however, about putting flea sprays or dips are very sensitive to the American Shorthair, the Siamese, and the damp area and peeing in it to them.The cat wants to mark you find that a female cat shows no interest, ask the individual to try and get rid of the toilet.Which brings me to touch him and give it away just because they have been driven to make the pet feels like his old scratching areas, here are my suggestions for increasing your chances of mishaps will be eliminated.

Fill a box with an id tag is important and probably just assuming that is less smelly and destructive.* Moving to a happy home since cat personalities vary greatly, but here are is a very small amount of time together.Two kittens provide each with their senses of smell is just something that every year more kittens are born than there are many ways to remove all traces of cat scratch your feet because he feels like it's being trapped, you'll have to be consistent and get all the treats fall into line.* Hypoallergenic Diets may relieve asthmatic signs associated with the neighbors.You know best about the measure of alcohol that are necessary once you bathe him.

[uglyirishboss]

20-Volt MAX Lithium-Ion 7-1/4 in. Cordless Miter Saw - DCS361M1

Today, I'm so is an action. You guys we're going over something long awaited. What is it Eric very long? Wait. It'S a new drill, yeah, it's a pretty cool job as a hammer yeah. It wants to be know. You guys today we're going over their new cordless aw. It'S been rumored, it's been around they've been in Europe. Other brands make them. You know they're all in there, but for actually two watt, which is one of the king of miter, saw in my opinion, you got. The DWS 780 grid saw a great saw. Great. All around construction site saw, you know, true, solid, build, you know and a lot of construction guys like that saw, and they want to stick with that brand and a lot of construction guys have 20 volt mm-hmm. So they come out with this 20 boys and seven and a quarter yep seven and a quarter 20 volts on now. First thing, you're saying and a lot of people that I talk to forget that that's right, yeah we're going to the default the wall to vent. It'S not useless. I'M gon na tell you right now. This is gon na handle 90 % of all your cuts. Yes, especially because other way for the two, it's six yeah. Well, that's your framer! You know, if you're doing a frame of your frame of the house that you're doing six by sixes it'll cut a six by six yeah, but you got Turner earning, but that and portability guys even for the regular homeowner. Just to have this, you don't have to unwrap it power I mean weighs like 30-something pounds. What does it weigh? Ah, let me look that up there, for you 31 pounds so, and they really put two handles in the side, so you can carry it like this. I know when I did a flooring job recently at Paul's house and we took the DWS 780. Third, oh my god, that's insane! It was just hard heavy big and we just didn't need that big capacity saw no, that would've been perfect for us yeah. All we were doing was cutting flooring and a little bit of trim. Now I know what other people are saying: oh the battery's not gon na last. You guys you're gon na get up to over a hundred and 275 cuts through three and a quarter pine baseboard. 183 cuts by regular pine 2x4. So you know you could always have a battery on charger. You always have an extra few batteries. Ajanta thing already three cuts out of just two by fours I mean that's, that's good yeah! It'S pretty good! It'S about five volt battery! Um, I don't you know what Eric I don't know won't spoil it down. I want to say it came to the fore. I was a little bit shocked. I wanted to say, came with a four oh reader way. It doesn't just says 20 volt back DC. Look up DC b2 or it's okay, yeah! That'S, alright! We'Re good either way. You know, you're gon na need more than one battery for this most likely, but it does come with a battery and it does come with a charge. Doesn'T it you can get mad as a bear or you can get them with the battery charger? So you can get the kit, which is the m1 or you can get the bear tool? Gotcha. Okay, um! You guys just shoot a form with dEWALT's big bad D. Degree or 780 even has the expirience laser system on it. Um laser system, it's not as good as the XPS. I don't think yeah, which is weird cuz they're, both a light they're both got that nice line right when you pull it down to the wood. You see it I mean yeah. Obviously, though, if you're a bright light, it's I don't care I've, never seen a laser, don't yeah bright way, didn't work right, but the reason I I'm not like saying wow, it's awesome, because the XPS is awesome because you don't have to adjust it. It'S just a shadow where that shadow is, is your exact cut? It'S just. You can't really see it till you're, almost right on the work yeah, you know and, like Eric said, daylight conditions. You know you probably want to use it inside what else we got on this thing. Eric it's got me. It'S got your to everything that you'd see in a regular saw. It'S got the bevel card. It'S got all my me, giggles bevel single yeah, that's true! So it's got that it's got the miter cuts with the details so who tighten this oh come on. I didn't tighten that yeah. You did on tighten it right there. So there you got your Bible, you guys! You got your slide as far as the slide goes. I would say, and what is it look like it's 49 degrees for the bevel? 45? No clothes, hair 11:45. No, it doesn't here's what those it's 45 and the slide feels pretty quality quality. It'S got a nice wide. It feels good, you know, comes with your standard dust collection bag, but you can go ahead and plug it into a dust management system personally these bags suck, but you do need them because if we were cutting right now be shooting all over this TV. So you do need something I think the Bell was like 49 or something now it's 45, it's centered on it. 45. I don't know you're right Eric's right, I'm sorry! It is 49. You are right. Yeah! I cannot see. Oh no show up. I did screw up. Well, you better go to tool guide, um! You guys right here, you got your positive detents. You know fine they're, common ones, twenty-two and a half, and all that yep twenty-two and a half 25 45, and it goes a little more than 449 okay. So I don't know man I I like, because you know what I don't, especially if you're just gon na cut a piece here there too I mean yes, you can do a lot of cuts that go same with the pine and all that. Well, there's a lot of times where it's just sitting over there. We want oh quick cut. You can just pop it right on the back of your truck pop it on the ground sawhorse, but you're gon na move around yeah. But here's what I tell everybody - everybody man, you know small cut - think of when you're using your 73 cartridge. So how many times you've been like man. I wish this thing had a miter. I wish I could make straight cuts or perfect angles with this. Without you know, jigging something up here, it is mm-hmm. You know thank you for the 7 3/4, like you said, 7, 3/4. Yes, seven and a quarter. Oh they say free quarters. Yeah. I just flip flip flip man. We should well. Don'T worry, you guys will edit and redo all that, so we come off as professionals. You know know if you want professionals go elsewhere, but professionals do you love us? Why? Because we're a couple of crazy ass guys stay alive. What'S that woody? What is love? Those guys are come: oh yeah, oh geez overnight that bad now, crazy, guys, uh Barbara Bach right on the front, got your tool here to change your blade. You know, I can't really say enough, you guys do your warranty and I know everybody thinks I'm with the Walt fan. I am a dwarf and I do like to walk and I really think this is a good stop. I love this thing. I did you know what the price suit is 399 euros. It is it 399 or 48. I seen him at Home Depot, I want to say they might even be $ 2.99. What are they at Home Depot check it out? I was checking Amazon well, no Home Depot's got better prices in Amazon for big black yeah, but they got free shipping on let's 390 nice free shipping, but you guys can get it at home people they have stacks of them if you're looking for any minor. This is the one to get. I mean yeah, 12-inch, minors are nice. You can cut a lot more bigger material with a cam but they're heavier they're bulkier I mean yeah. You don't need them that much unless you're building a house or something huge you know. So definitely you guys take a look at this thing. Let us know what you think, I'm gon na go out on a limb. I mean I'm not going out on a limb. I'M just telling you this is, if I only had to have one miter saw forever it'd be this I'd borrow 12 from Erik or someone else yeah I mean it is a lot of the stuff you cut in our 2x4 or 2x6 is stuff like that. I, for the most part you know, yeah I mean my under starts: take up space dude, okay, especially with stands where it understands yeah. I mean look at storing this thing, yeah compared to just storing your own and that one folds up nicely, but still I mean, even if you have it on your bench, it takes up a lot of room yeah. This is nice because you know what you can do. You can throw this right underneath your bench when you're not using it. It'S not, and you know once it's on top of your bed. Jug add I want it sort of 12-inch, take it down and up so yeah. I mean I really like this stuff. The wall is not sponsor of ours. Well, you know not yet not yet, but if you like our view, though we're getting, I mean, like I said you guys, I love it. I think it's cool. So how do you feel about it? It'S alright! No! I really like that. Guy'S cool, that's cool. I was a little skeptical when we first kind of saw and heard about it, but actually got a lot of use out of it here doing different things and it's I got ta say it's nice and for the capacity it's powerful enough, whatever you can fit in It it's gon na cut, you know you can just grab it by the handle. Go walking around granted, don't bang it into the side of your truck yeah. It may cause a scratch. Why you guys? Don'T forget click on the bottom. We got patreon. We need your guy's help, so you keep these tour of yours going and not depend on the big corporation. So much and then we want to thank you. Oh we'll take your sponsors yeah, but if you guys are become comp, why can't the top? If you guys are a big corporation and you want to throw a few million at us, you know we're more than happy to take yeah. You know. What'S so rubber dog crap from China, yeah no kidding yeah, you guys were just in a mood today, but some people do think that. But we give our honest opinions here. I'M told an actually, but we do have our favorite brands. They may not be good opinions but their opinion, so they don't get opinions yeah two guys who like tools like mess around stuff and consumers, we're consumers just like you and that's about the crew, the crews about all of us. So thank you. Guys! Click up! Subscribe! Click like tell us what you feel down below what you think of this or other saws we're just like hearing your feedback engage across the tools in Action Network cuz. You are part of the crew, my partner, I did a part of me again. Oh, does he do that yeah member Barnaby he's all with his daughter who was an action remember for more exciting tool. Action brought a tools in action; dot-com

[akaiikowrites]

to build a home pt 3

Summary: “I’m just… Fucking… Look, my heart burns for you.” Katara’s the most terrifying girl in the world. Zuko’s kind of in love with her.

Notes: It took almost ten months but we're back at it again with more High School AU. Light on the "high school" in this chapter. But for a good cause? There's going to be one more chapter after this, so we're in the home (ahahahaha bad puns) stretch. Thank you again for all the kind feedback on my trash.

Rating: PG-13/T for cussing, sexual(ish) content, and pure old fashioned Wisconsin cheese.

Part: One and Two

Uncle doesn’t complain that he spends a lot of their remaining vacation taking pictures and texting. Actually, once Uncle catches on that it’s Katara on the other end, he makes a game out of finding things for Zuko to tell Katara about. It’s both obnoxious and endearing. Because he feels generous, Zuko decides it’s more endearing than obnoxious, and humors his Uncle.

(It helps that Uncle found the weird statue of a crab in hula gear that had Katara laughing so hard that Sokka was able to steal her phone and get a picture of her mid-cackle.)

But their last night in Ember Cove, Zuko leaves the phone in their room and goes out onto the porch. It’s not that he doesn’t want to talk to Katara it’s just that he’s realized soon they’re going to have to actually talk about things that matter again instead of whatever dumb thing they just snapped a picture of. Uncle is out on the porch with a cup of tea. When Zuko takes a seat on the porch steps, Uncle says, “It is a beautiful night. Very peaceful.”

With a sigh, Zuko lets his head thump back against the railing and wonders how he’s supposed to explain any of this. Part of him had hoped Uncle would pry. Instead, it seems that his Uncle is feeling philosophical enough to let Zuko come to him. Fuck.

It takes almost a half hour for Zuko to figure out what he needs to say. During that time Uncle finishes his first cup of tea in slow, deliberate sips. Then rises and disappears back into their rented cabin to make himself another cup. Zuko finds the exact words as Uncle emerges back into the humid night and takes a seat in the well-worn rocking chair he favors. There’s a creak from the chair and a satisfied hum from Uncle as he takes the first sip of his fresh cup. Zuko breathes in deep and says:

“Katara knows about Mom. I didn’t tell her but she knew. That’s why she became my friend. Because she felt bad for me and wanted to fix me. Help me. I don’t know.” The old frustration surges up. Fresh and raw as it had been the first time. He can feel his hands curling into fists but he doesn’t try to stop it. Just lets the feeling rush through him because he needs to do this. Bleed the poison out of this wound. He just doesn’t want to hurt her again. “That’s why I didn’t talk to her. Because it’s fucked up. Making someone your friend so you can fix them. But she called. Christmas morning. Told me that her mom died and she blames herself and that’s why she does it. Fixes people. Helps them. Whatever it is she does. I don’t want to be a fucking project to her but she needs me and I don’t know how to forgive her but I can’t—”

There are no more words and he’s honestly amazed he made it this far. It feels like the inside of his mouth has been all cut up with razor blades, like he needs to punch something to focus the pain, like he’s exactly the kind of wounded creature who needs a beautiful girl to save him. Zuko knows his eyes are pleading as he looks at his Uncle.

“Katara is?” Uncle says. Philosophically.

Zuko launches to his feet and begins to pace across the width of the porch. “I don’t know. Katara’s…Katara.” Pacing isn’t helping but he knows he can’t vent his anger by hitting something. So he growls, and tangles his fingers in his hair, and clenches his eyes shut. “Katara is someone gentle, and smart, and fierce. She sees all the worst things about life and then decides she can somehow change it. She takes in people because they need it, not because they deserve it. She stays kind even though nothing else is kind. She demands a better world.” Without meaning to his feet come to a stop. He opens his eyes. His hands slide from his hair to fall to his sides. “She makes me want to demand a better world.”

Out here the light is pretty shitty. Reliant on the small lamps that light the pathways between cabins and the heavy moon above them. But Zuko’s pretty sure he’s not imagining the faint gleam to Uncle’s eyes. Or the hoarse edge as he says, “Then the question is, nephew, if your pride is worth more than all that Katara is.”

No. It’s not.

Zuko Himura 11:48PM we need to talk when i get back

Katara Foster 11:49PM i know

It takes them all day to get back to Republic City. They nearly die once because Uncle sees a tea shop and whips their car across five lanes of traffic to get at it. When they pull into the driveway there’s a good six inches of fresh snow that’ll need to be cleared tomorrow. Zuko goes straight upstairs because a week and a half solid of socializing with Uncle is exhausting. (It’s good, too, in a way that he can’t articulate.) After kicking the door shut and dropping his bags, he collapses face first onto his bed, ready to take the world’s longest nap.

The world’s longest nap is only about three hours long.

Zuko wakes up blearily to the faint whine of the tea kettle. It stops but he’s awake, now, so he half rolls onto his side. For a while he just lays there. Cocooned in the warm dark, looking out the window, at fresh snow that swirls backlit against streetlights. Somehow the room feels safe, and cozy, and less like a place he just goes to fall asleep or do homework. The therapist would call that progress if he still went to them every Tuesday.

Falling snow reminds him of Katara. Of that day when they went to the coffee shop. With a groan that sounds more like a growl he rolls onto his back and puts an arm behind his head. The hand resting on his stomach taps out a rhythm.

Even a month later his body remembers her—warm and small and laughing—cuddled against him. It had seemed like too much to handle at the time. What kind of loser jerks off to the memory of giving a girl a piggy back ride? But now he wonders what would’ve happened if he’d pulled her into an alley that day and kissed her. Maybe everything would’ve been different if he’d been braver. Probably not.

Reaching into the front pocket of his jeans, he fishes out his phone and turns it on. Light flares brilliant and white and makes him squint. It’s almost eight. He ignores the next texts from Sokka, the Ultimate Frisbee group chat, and an unknown number to pull up Katara’s conversation.

Katara Foster 2:49PM text me when you get home k?

Feeling a little like a jerk, he taps in, got home a couple hours ago but needed a nap. Then he erases that and sends home instead. That makes him feel more like a jerk but he’s barely had time to feel the full weight of his jerkish behavior when the three little dots that signal an incoming response pop up.

Katara Foster 7:53PM good

Katara Foster 7:54PM are you like super tired?

Even with the nap he feels kind of worn at the edges. But he dutifully says not really why? She reads the message immediately but it takes a full six minutes for her to reply. Zuko imagines it might be because Sokka started doing something obnoxious or GranGran needed help with something. That doesn’t help the nerves. Especially when the three dots pop up and just. Stay there. Taunting him.

Katara Foster 8:02PM meet me at the coffee shop

Katara Foster 8:02PM please

Of course she’s beaten him there. She’s hunched over a steaming cup of coffee that’s cradled in her hands. When the bell above the doorway goes off she looks up, instinctively but not hopefully, like she’s already done this a few times. Except this time it’s actually him. Or at least he assumes that’s why her entire face lights up and she straightens her shoulders and the coffee cup is left forgotten on the table. Zuko barely has time to brace himself and open his arms before she’s in them, face pressed tight into his chest, fingers digging deep into his leather jacket.

“Hey,” he says. It feels like the air’s been knocked out of his lungs and it’s not just because she slammed into him. One arm’s curled around her waist reflexively but he tries to smooth the other over the back of her skull because he’s fairly certain she’s shaking. “Hey, are you okay?”

Katara pulls back very carefully but stays in his arms. It’s okay. Now that he’s touching her, he’s not sure he could let her go, even with everyone in the coffee shop eyeing them. He can’t remember if she’s always felt this delicate or if maybe he only thinks she feels that way because he knows she’s not invincible now. Zuko wants to pull her closer and wrap her up in his jacket. Keep her safe for once.

“I’m okay, I’m just so glad you’re here,” she says. There’s a very soft lilt to her voice that makes him think she’s holding back tears.

Not thinking about the consequences, he leans down and presses a soft kiss to her forehead, lets himself stay there for a moment as he breathes in the scent of her. He pulls back. Katara’s got her eyes closed. The lines of her face are still and easy in a way they hadn’t been before and he realizes suddenly how tense she’d actually been. Slowly, like someone coming up from a deep dive, she opens her eyes.

“I’m here,” he says. Their eyes lock. It occurs to him that she is steel and glass layered together so firmly that he’s not sure if he’s glimpsing the vulnerability beneath her strength or the courage beneath her fragility. “I’m here,” he promises.

Somehow they manage to completely avoid talking about it.

At first, in those hazy moments in the coffee shop in the hour before closing, Zuko thinks maybe it’s because they’re still too raw. Or because the coffee shop is too public. Or even because they’re too enamored of being around each other again, their knees bumping under the table, her hand eventually settling on his bare forearm like an anchor.

But the last three days of winter break go by and they’re around each other constantly. They have the opportunity. It’s just that they don’t want to, maybe. So it’s like:

One day, they’re sledding in the park with everyone from the Foster’s neighborhood, including one boy with a shaved head who watches Zuko with intense suspicion. Another day, they’re walking through the mall with Sokka and Suki, playing with the Christmas decorations that haven’t been stripped down yet. That last day, they’re going to the indoor pool at the local YMCA so Katara can do some back to school thing for underprivileged elementary students, and Zuko can’t even remember how he got dragged into this when he hates the pool but it’s worth it for the way Katara smiles at him over the heads of thirteen shrieking eight year olds.

After the YMCA, Katara offers to drive him home but Zuko says he’ll walk. It’s only a mile and a half. It’s not even snowing now. What he doesn’t say is he needs time to think because it finally occurred to him as she ruffled her towel over his chlorine damp hair that she’s waiting on him.

Walking is a bad idea. He wakes up the next morning with a sore throat, a stuffy nose, and the kind of vague headache that feels like being underwater. Uncle takes one look at him and says to text Katara for the homework.

The door to his bedroom creaks open. Uncle left him alone after lunch to nap. He’s not sure if he actually slept. It feels like maybe he has.

“No more tea,” he groans. Uncle force fed him an entire pot, he’s pretty sure, and his throat feels better but if he never has to drink another cup it’ll be too soon.

Someone laughs and says, “You sound terrible.” Dread, or mucus, clogs his airways as he turns over to face the doorway. Hazy winter sunlight softens her edges. Zuko watches, feeling bemused and enchanted, as she pushes up the sleeves of her loose cable knit sweater to her elbows and puts her hands on her hips. Purposeful. Amused. Fond. Home improvement stores don’t have paint that can match the blue of her eyes. Zuko can’t breathe and he’s pretty sure it’s not just because he’s needed to blow his nose for the last nine minutes. “You look terrible.”

“You’re awful,” he says. Rolling away from her, he fishes around in the covers for his little packet of Kleenex. Nothing immediately meets his fingers. So he tries to sniffle without it being loud just to get the worst of the snot controlled. Which of course means it seems to echo off every available surface.

Another laugh, muffled this time. “Wait, I need a picture for Sokka.” Floorboards creak beneath her weight and he hears a heavy bag dropping to the floor. The bed dips beneath her as she puts a knee on the edge.

“No,” Zuko says. With great feeling.

“Aw, c’mon,” she says. One day he’s going to figure out how she can sound teasing and worried at the same time. Leaning over him, she grabs the packet of Kleenex and puts it into his hand. “A picture for me then?”

“No,” he says. With even greater feeling.

Katara’s lower lip juts out just a bit. If she’s trying for a convincing pout then she’s failing because he knows what he genuine pouts look like. They involve a slight crinkle at the corners of her eyes, like she’s trying not to cry. It’s a manipulative pout and he’s on to her. “But…” she says. “I need it.”

“Why?”

One of her shoulders lifts in a shrug. “To prove a point. Mostly to Song and Jin. This would prove that you are not handsome and brooding at all times.” Arguably, he’s not handsome at any times. He can’t say much about the brooding. Why Katara would care about any of this in the first place he can’t imagine. “None of the girls at school would think you were some mysterious bad boy if they could see you with a runny nose.”

Since he clearly has no fucking dignity left as she looms over him and confirms that he looks exactly as pathetic as he feels, and that she plans on letting everyone relevant in his age group know as much, he makes deliberate eye contact and blows his nose in a fresh Kleenex. Being herself, Katara maintains eye contact, and then once he’s done goes, “Feel better?” It’s a challenge. Like he’s ridiculously gross and she knows they’re both acknowledging that fact. But also like she wants him to know she saw that petty display of pissiness and she’s above it. Zuko could tell her she doesn’t have to bother. Everyone already knows she’s the most terrifying girl in school. Reaching toward his nightstand, she grabs an entire box of Kleenex, probably one that Uncle left during one of Zuko’s many naps. Handing it to him, she says, “I think you need these.”

“I might hate you,” he says, batting the box away so it thumps onto the floor.

There’s a flicker behind her expression. Fleeting helplessness writ large in the way her eyebrows nudge toward one another and her teeth catch her lower lip. Gone before most people would really catch it. But he caught it and now he’s reminded that she’s not the most terrifying girl in school when it comes to him.

Feeling like a jerk, again, he reaches out and wraps a hand around her wrist. It’s cool to the touch because of his fever. Rubbing a thumb over the soft skin of her inner arm, he says, “I didn’t mean it that way.”

“Don’t be,” she says. “I shouldn’t have pushed. You don’t…” It kills him a little, how she pauses, her eyes settled on some loose thread in his comforter. Even though he knows she won’t say it he knows what she’s thinking. You don’t let yourself be vulnerable. Disappointment clings to those unspoken words. Because Katara’s waiting on him. After giving him all the rawest parts of herself on a silver platter. Katara’s waiting on him. Or maybe not, because her eyes are shuttered and her smile now is strained, and she’s saying, “I’m sorry,” like it’s an absolution.

Panic claws at him and he fumbles for explanations. Zuko’s never been good with words and sick muddled as he is they refuse to come at all. In his mind there are the memories—of being sick after his mother left and burning his hand on the stove while he made chicken noodle soup because his father would not feed him if he was weak and he hadn’t eaten for two days—that he needs to share with her so she’ll understand but he can’t figure out how and she’s standing up with that same strained smile as she murmurs goodbyes about letting him rest.

If he lets her go now, he thinks, there will never be another chance.

Zuko uses his grip on her wrist to tug her hand to his face. Most of the skin of his scar is dead, nothing to feel there but pressure and the occasional pain that comes with sudden weather front, but he swears he can feel the rasp of her fingertips as they settle over the ruined skin. Katara doesn’t look like she’s breathing. “Stay.”

Now she sucks in a shaky breath. Her free arm wraps around her own waist like she’s trying to hold herself together. “Why?” she asks. “You haven’t forgiven me. You haven’t even asked if I still—”

Focusing on her glassy eyes, he says, “It doesn’t matter.”

Katara lets out a choked sound and pulls her hand free of his grasp. Wraps her other arm around herself. “The hell it doesn’t,” she says.

Later, he thinks he’ll try to figure out how things went this bad this fast. How they got from gentle teasing to restrained tears. How they even managed to reach this point in the first place instead of exploding or fizzling out so much earlier.

But this, at least, he has words for. Zuko’s voice is hoarse and awful and steady and he tries to gentle it for her but he has to say it, whether she wants it or not, because he can’t lose her like this. “I realized I’m going to choose you being in my life because I can’t imagine not choosing you.” In the hazy winter sunlight, she’s still soft at the edges and so beautiful it aches, and he’s willing to beg. “Please,” he whispers, “Stay.”

Tears build like a flash flood in her eyes and go spilling down her cheeks. One of her knees bumps his ribs as she scrambles onto the bed and tumbles into him. Ignoring that he’s sick and gross and wearing a sweat stained tee she crawls under the covers and presses against him full length. All their limbs are tangled up together. It feels natural to wrap his arms around her and pull her closer. Anchor her into him so that maybe the world will stop tilting wildly on its axis or maybe that’s just his inner eardrums protesting. But when she touches his scar again it’s achingly gentle and she’s saying “I’m here, I’m here, I’m here.”

[aimeraiwrites]

Barz/JULES 10

10: Not said to me 

(hi this prompt Destroyed me they’re already the angst couple of the year ash)

(under a cut bc it accidentally got long and turned into a hs au)

They’re not fighting, but they’re not not fighting either. Considering that the entire reason they started fucking was to get over other people, Jules has no idea why Mat freaked out so much, storming away when Jules had asked him if things had been getting anywhere with Chabby. It might be better this way–it’s been six months, and whatever feelings Jules had had for Luc have simmered down, only to be replaced by Mat. Mat, who always kicks up his feet on the coffee table and prefers Chinese to all other takeout. Mat, who let Jules vent about all the things he liked about PL with minimal snarky commentary, stroking Jules’s hair and topping up his drinks, because under the fifty layers of asshole, he’s pretty decent verging on good. Mat, who’s so hung up on Chabs and still gets extra touchy with Jules whenever he’s around, trying to catch his attention by making him jealous. Apparently, Jules is a hopeless sucker for the unavailable kind.

By noon on the first day after whatever had happened, all of their mutual friends are shooting looks at him and Mat, sitting opposite each other at the lunch table and carrying on conversations with completely different people. They aren’t ignoring each other, but all their conversation is cold on Mat’s end, so Jules doesn’t bother, talking the entire lunch period to PL and Jozy about some superhero movie that’s coming out this weekend while Mat and Chabs talk basketball. Nice to see that Mat’s taking this opportunity to at least make progress.

Luc stops him with a hand around his wrist at the end of lunch. “Are you and Mat okay? Like, are you two fighting?”

“There is no me and Mat,” Jules says, voice carefully neutral. 

“You two broke up?” Luc asks, disbelieving. 

Jules sighs. “We were never dating in the first place. Just fucking around.”

“Does Mat know that?” Luc looks disturbed for some reason. 

Jules laughs, even though it’s not that funny. “It was his idea then, and whatever’s going on now is his idea, too.”

“Jules…” Luc starts, looking hellishly uncomfortable. 

Jules runs his free hand through his hair. “Just–let it go, Luc. It’ll be fine.” With that, he shakes loose of Luc’s grip and worried eyebrows and makes his way to his next class. ===They’re three days into this new normal and Jules has almost learned to stop turning to tell Mat things. The looks from all of their friends have turned into a weird mix of confusion and pity directed at both of them. Luc, in particular, keeps eyeing Jules like he thinks Jules is going to burst into tears and sob his heart out at any moment. Jules hasn’t told Luc about sitting cuddled with Rosie on his bed, eyes too dry and heart too heavy, but somehow it feels like Luc knows anyway. 

Mat’s the opposite, calm and serene. He treats Jules the way he does classmates, casual and friendly, but not inviting further conversation. He spends a lot of time with Chabs, and Jules tries to pretend that he’s okay with it, but judging from the way Luc and Jozy have been watching him, and the sometimes pensive glances he gets from Chabs, he’s not fooling anyone. But the thing is: he tried to apologise to Mat, right afterwards. He’s tried to apologise over and over again even though he’s not sure what he’s fucked up, and Mat’s given it right back to him every time.

This time it’s Jozy, in their trig class, who asks, as the two of them pack their textbooks. “You and Mat…are you guys okay?”

“It’s not–look Jozy we weren’t together, just fucking. Can you and everyone else let it go already?” Jules asks, tired. “You keep acting like it’s one of our grade’s big romances that’s been split up.”

Jozy’s smile is melancholy. “You guys kinda were. Like, I still think he’s an asshole, but he was tolerable with you, and you two were good together. Or, not together, I guess.”

Jules puts on a smirk that he learned from Mat. “Guess I was fucking the asshole out of him.”

Jozy just stares at him in disbelief, so Jules shoulders his backpack and leaves. It would be easier to get over this thing with Mat if people didn’t keep reminding him of it and then forcing him to tell them that they were nothing. Couldn’t they just bother Mat about it instead?===At lunch, it’s Chabs who catches up to him as he’s walking to their table. “So,” Chabs starts.

“If this is about Mat, we’re not together and never were; can you let it go?” Jules snaps. “I’m tired of answering questions about it.”

“Jesus, Gauth, I was just going to ask you to talk to Mat, because whatever else you guys were doing, you’re friends, too, and watching you guys pretend that you’re strangers is stressful. It’s going to start carrying to the ice,” Chabs says. 

He has a good point there. Jules still glares at him, on principle. “He’s the one ignoring me, Chabshow, talk to him about it. I’ve already fucking tried.”

“I’m going to,” Chabs says, placid, like Jules isn’t giving him his best glare. Jules kinda wants to strangle him. 

“Cool,” Jules says, his voice sulky. “I hope you have more luck than I do.”

Chabs is looking at him with careful pity. “Simmer down, Jules.”

And with that, they’re at their lunch table, where Jules settles in next to Luc, who’s eyeing him and Chabs with a speculative gleam in his eyes, but chooses to ask Jules about their Lit assignment instead. Mat is sitting at the other end of the table, so that’s where Chabs goes, of course. Mat’s expression is thoughtful, glancing at Chabs and then making eye contact with Jules for a long, loaded moment before breaking it with a breathtaking smile directed at Chabs. Jules’s throat feels tight. He takes a sip of water and starts answering Luc’s question.

===

Jules’s blades don’t feel sharp enough, so he tells Luc where he’s going and grabs his skates. He already has his earphones in, which is why he doesn’t hear the voices till it’s too late, furious and cutting around the bend in the hallway. He takes out an earphone, and oh–that’s Mat and Chabs. Looks like Chabs is making good on his promise to talk to Mat, but Mat sounds annoyed and sharp, and Jules wants to know. So yes, he creeps to the corner of the hallway, and peeks just enough to see Mat and Chabs standing, five feet apart, Chabs’ back to Jules, Mat standing with his arms defensively crossed over his chest. 

“–just fucking you both up,” Chabs finishes saying. 

Mat rolls his eyes. “I told you, and I know Jules told you. We were never anything, Chabs. He likes someone else, anyway.”

“Really? Because he’s been sulking like a wet cat for the last three days. He almost bit my head off today–easygoing as fuck, smiling Jules,” Chabs says, his voice hot with restrained fury. “And you can’t tell me that he didn’t try to apologise to you. So even if he fucked up, you’re the one who made it worse.”

Mat sighs, and now he just looks–tired. “Look. Chabshow, I get it, you have the A and you’re worried, but did you ever think that maybe you shouldn’t stick your nose in our business? All of you. We need time, not you guys shoving your opinions down our throats. And seriously, we’re nothing. I know you’re familiar with the concept of friends-with-benefits, so could you just leave us the fuck alone and stop seeing things that don’t exist.”

Jules swallows. It hurts, to have Mat lay everything down so clinically. Nothing Mat said is wrong, but it hurts anyway, because sometimes Jules thought that he could ask. Could have Mat in all the ways it matters.

Chabs isn’t done. “Talk to him, Mat.”

“I’ll do it on my own time,” Mat replies, and Jules realises too late that Mat’s striding past Thomas, bumping his shoulder meanly, about to come face to face with Jules. He manages to take one step back, back plastered to the wall, and then Mat comes up to the part of the hallway where he has a line of sight to Jules. 

Mat’s steps falter slightly, and at first his face when he sees Jules is complicated, too many emotions for Jules to classify. Then it smooths out and he smirks meanly at Jules, holding eye contact as he calls back to Thomas. “By the way, I love you.”

It’s said loud and proud and carelessly, and Mat continues on his way like he didn’t leave Thomas spluttering in the hallway and Jules with his stomach dropping straight to the floor.

[3000wordsandnolife]

Vale Dominus- Chapter 3

And this is the final chapter I’ve written so far. Haven’t had much time, having immediately started work on other stuff. More info on that soon!

The four walked out into the courtyard, which immediately stood out as odd to the newcomers. Though they had entered the building at dusk, the entire courtyard was lit up as if it was the middle of the day, with the other side of the fences teeming with people walking past.

 For a second, Piranha wondered if he had somehow lost eight hours of his life as time has gone forwards, but that thought was quickly dispelled as a frisbee hurtled as if it was going to fly over the fence, but instead bounced off something invisible, causing a ripple in the outside scene, like a stone skimming over a watery surface. Before Piranha or Joker could even ask, they were ushered over by the other two to people sat on a bench, who glanced up at them, then promptly did a double-take.

“What the…” The closest one said, a blond man with muscles threatening to burst through his plain t-shirt. Piranha was surprised the fabric was even holding together. He also couldn’t stop staring, and desperately scrambled for something else to look at. Glancing around, he noticed that the other people in the courtyard seemed to be training, but not in any way he’d ever seen. Rather than combatting each other in normal ways, most seemed to be relying on strange abilities, split-second reflexes causing people to move incredibly quickly. His eyes widened as a burst of flames shot into the air, coming from one of the other people’s hands. It almost seemed too weird to be true, and if it wasn’t for his own abilities, he wouldn’t believe it was happening at all.

“Looks like they did their job for you, Finite. They turned up about ten minutes ago at the front doors.” Knows said, grinning. The other man glanced up from underneath his dark hair, and Piranha saw the clear scar on his neck, as if a blade had been drawn across it. He considered asking about it, but thought better of it as he saw the man’s tired eyes. He got distracted by Finite standing up very stiffly and offering a hand out in a handshake, looking slightly uncomfortable as he did so. Joker took the hand uncertainly, and it was shaken by Finite as if he didn’t know how to shake a hand at all.

“Hello, I’m Finite, and this guy is Icronic.” Finite mumbled, glancing back at Icronic as he did so. “He’s my…” Finite paused for a second, then finished the sentence with the word “Partner” right as Icronic finished the sentence himself with the word “Boyfriend”. The two glanced at each other for a second, and Finite blushed. Piranha and Joker just awkwardly looked away, as the silence lurked in the air.   “Yeah, they’re always this awkward.” Valms said, the first that the two had heard him speak. “You’ll get used to it.” With these words, Finite snapped back to attention, remembering what he was supposed to be doing.

“We’re the scouts. We track down anyone with abilities, and we bring them back here so they can train themselves safely.” Finite said, producing a list of names from a back pocket, before crossing off two of them. “You two were actually on our list, so you’ve saved us some time by coming here.” He added, before putting the paper back away and looking up at them with a smile that seemed slightly forced.  

“Wait, how did you know about us?” Joker asked, and Piranha nodded in agreement, remembering that he had done his best to keep himself hidden over the years. Icronic was the one to respond this time around, before Finite had a chance to.

“We’ve got a huge machine in the basement that tracks everyone with abilities in the world.” Icronic said, in a monotonous voice that went well with his tired expression. Piranha wondered how Icronic and Finite had even gotten together, but before he could comment, Joker’s words shook him from his thoughts.

“Wow, you have a machine that can do that?” He said excitedly, glancing between everyone. Valms was shaking his head in disbelief, and Knows was shuffling awkwardly. Finite was struggling not to laugh, and Icronic was as deadpan as ever.

“No. We just keep up with the news and look for unusual stuff.” Icronic admitted, smirking as he did so. Joker blushed, embarrassed, and Finite disguised his laughter as a coughing fit. Piranha was just standing there, refusing to admit that he had also believed that the machine could have been a real thing. Icronic tapped on a tablet that was in front of him for a few seconds, before sliding it over to the two. It showed the front of two newspapers, and Piranha immediately found himself taken back as he saw the front of the gas station pictured in one of them. All at once, it was like he was there again, the metal tang of blood in his mouth and the panic in the atmosphere. He reminded himself of how long ago this had been, and glanced over at Joker. Joker, unlike Piranha, was smiling warmly as he looked at the newspaper clipping, which showed a woman on the front. He recalled how he had saved her, and was glad to see she had not only managed to be okay, but had also been able to benefit from the experience. “Piranha and Joker. You two really live up to your names, you know.” Icronic said to them, before sliding the tablet back to himself. “If I had known you were together, we would have looked for you a lot more.” Piranha and Joker shook their heads rapidly at this, stammering out their responses and denials, before Icronic laughed. “I didn’t mean like that.” He chuckled.  

“We just met up a few hours ago.” Joker said, and Piranha nodded along as he looked around again. “We then decided to look for the institute together.” As Joker said this, Finite looked up, his eyes widening slightly as he did, as he remembered something important.

“Knows, have you taken these guys to see Leuil and Nel yet?” He asked, and Knows shook his head in response.   “Not yet. I don’t really think they need to see Rusanel at all yet, do they?” Knows asked in response, and Valms shrugged. Piranha glanced between the four, before glancing over at Joker and being slightly relieved to see he wasn’t the only one who was incredibly confused.

“I need to pick up something from Leuil, so we definitely need to go to see him.” Valms said. “Apart from that, I wouldn’t say they really need to go anywhere.”

Leuil’s workplace stood out in the courtyard, a ramshackle-looking shed sat in the corner, as large as a garage, but with only one small door leading inside. Before Piranha and the rest had even gone in, the smell of motor oil and sounds of machinery hit him like a truck, and he grimaced. However, as everyone piled through the door and entered the hut, the atmosphere outside seemed to be the complete opposite of the inside. It was actually tidy and clean, with machinery venting the fumes to the outside. Piranha stared in disbelief at how sizable the room seemed to be, looking even larger than it had from the outside. A ladder led up to an upper floor that overlooked the area the group stood in, and a figure popped his bespectacled head out from over the railing, looking over the entire group. Whilst he definitely seemed to be as old as the rest of them, his face was youthful, joyous and had a sense of mischief, which his personality only added to as he spoke up.

“You remembered my birthday, Knows!” Leuil said happily, before hopping over the fence and dropping the six feet down to the ground floor, landing in a crouch before straightening himself up. He immediately made his way to Piranha and Joker, before ushering them to stand in the middle of the room as he examined them all over. “And two hunky guys too, how generous of you!” He grinned, and Piranha felt his face grow hot. He could feel Leuil’s eyes glancing all over his body, and had to resist the urge to move his hands and cover himself.  

“It’s not your birthday, Leuil.” Valms said flatly, as if talking to a child. Leuil simply pouted in response.

“Does that mean I don’t get to keep them? And I had so many plans for the pink-haired one.” If Piranha’s face had felt hot before, it now felt as if it was on fire, as Leuil practically whispered the second line in his ear. Leuil walked around back into their view, and the two relaxed. “All joking aside, I guess you two are new to the institute. Everyone comes here at some point.” Leuil looked over the two again, before snapping his head back forward. “Aquatic DNA fused with your own, causing genetic mutations and physical attributes to change.” He stated, glancing at Piranha, who froze up. Somehow, with barely any time at all, Leuil had managed to accurately assess where Piranha’s abilities stemmed from. “Hereditary mutation causing temporal phases, stemming possibly as far back as seven generations.” Leuil said to Joker, and judging from his reaction, Piranha knew that Leuil had been right on the mark for Joker’s abilities too.

“How in the hell-” Piranha was cut off by Leuil’s laughter at their stunned expressions, and he glanced over at Knows and Valms, who were nodding an answer to the question Piranha had yet to ask. Apparently, Leuil was just that good.  

“Oh man, you wouldn’t believe what people don’t pay attention to. Honestly, it’s all over you guys.” Leuil said, before speeding up the ladder. Piranha just stood there, unable to say anything more. “Valms, I got finished with your new mask by the way!” Leuil yelled from the upstairs area, before he popped his head over the railing again, slightly out of breath. He threw down a mask that was identical to the one that Valms was already wearing, and Piranha watched as Valms switched the masks around. Unlike what Piranha had expected, Valms had an ordinary mouth, and it made Piranha unsure of why he wore it in the first place. He mentally added the question to the list of questions he probably wouldn’t have answered, as Leuil popped out again. “Why are you guys still here?” He asked, confused, and the four took that as the cue to leave, shuffling out of the front door awkwardly as machinery clattered from above. “That guy maintains the wall. The field that keeps the courtyard lit and stops people from seeing inside.” Valms said as they walked, the most he had said in a while. “He’s a little eccentric, but when you get to know him, he’s actually kinda nice. If a little forward.” Valms glanced away, and Knows chuckled at this. “You should tell them about the time the two of you got drunk and almost-” Knows was cut off by Valms glaring at him. “Uh, never mind.” He trailed off, as the four walked back into the building. A few corridors and staircases later, they were at a corridor with doors leading off into different rooms. “This is the dormitories. This is where you’ll be staying for now, though you’ll probably be moved after a while.” Knows said, handing each of them a key. Piranha’s room key was numbered 729, and it made him wonder exactly how many rooms there were in the institute. Joker’s key was numbered as 730, and as such, the two had rooms opposite each other. “Well, I guess this is where we part ways for now.” Knows said, and the four stood in awkward silence. “You guys are free to leave anytime, you know. But if you stay, I can promise that the institute will give you what you’re looking for.” Knows reassured them. At first, Piranha was relieved, but as he looked at Valms and Knows, he saw the two glance at each other with an odd expression. He wasn’t quite sure what expression it was at first, but after he said goodbye to the rest of them, entered his room and laid down on the unexpectedly-soft bed, he realized why the expression unnerved him. Whatever those two had arrived here for, they hadn’t found it yet. Piranha knew that they had come after hours, meaning that they couldn’t have been here for too long. So how long would he have to wait for the information he needed?

It would be three weeks of nothing before excitement entered Piranha’s life.  

[cooperjones2020]

Second City, chp. 7

Summary: Sometimes she worries she’s settling — for a smaller job, a smaller city, a smaller life than she’d promised herself — but that was before she found out Jughead Jones lives in Chicago. That was before she found out the final secret of Jason Blossom’s murder.

A/N: FYI anyone who hasn’t seen the Before Sunrise trilogy needs to stop reading and go watch it immediately because it will change your life.

ao3–>http://archiveofourown.org/works/11409360/chapters/25556550

Second City one / two / three / four / five / six (ao3)

Nobodies Nobody Knows one / two / three / four (ao3)

In which rogue parents appear

Being friends with Jughead is surprisingly easy. He does watch Before Sunset a few days later and texts her his thoughts. That spirals into an ongoing discussion of their favorite movies, tv shows, books, music. Jughead keeps much later hours than she does, so every day this week she’s woken up to a novel-length diatribe on a Thing she has to read or watch Right Now.

Veronica’s words sneak back into her head, as does Kevin’s face when she told him she and Jughead were trying to be friends, but she does her best to suppress them. Blowing up at him seems to have eased some of the pressure inside her. She fully acknowledges that she has a crush on him. But that’s all it is, a crush. He is attractive, and she regrets how it ended between them before, but he’s definitely a different man now. The boy she loves doesn’t exist anymore. She’s enjoying getting to know the man.

She’s in the middle of texting him at work when her phone rings. He’s trying to convince her to watch Django Unchained. She’s trying to distract him by asking him to help her think of a synonym for ‘asperity’ that doesn’t sound as mean. So when FaceTime opens up right in the middle of her typing, she answers it before she realizes what’s happening. But not before she sees who’s calling.

Mom. Normally Betty has to prepare herself to talk to Alice, to manufacture the acceptable emotions. Today though, the smile comes easily.

“Hi Mom!” Alice holds the phone too close so all Betty can see is the sharp planes of her mother’s face.

“Betty. Why are you answering the phone at work?” Time and grandmotherhood had softened Alice Cooper in many ways, but her opinions on most aspects of her daughters’ lives, up to and including how they spend their time, are just as strong as ever.

“Ah—if you didn’t want me to answer, why did you call?”

“Don’t be silly, of course I wanted you to answer. I’m just surprised you’re free. Are you sure this job isn’t too easy for you?”

“The job’s great, Mom. How are you? Have you guys heard from JJ and Rose?”

“They’re fine. Your sister heard from them. She also mentioned you’ve been seeing Jughead.” Okay, or we’ll go straight in for the kill.

“I’m not seeing him, Mom. I’ve just seen him. For work and stuff.”

“Good. I don’t think it’s a good idea for you to get involved with that boy.”

Betty sighs, not surprised by the turn this conversation has taken. Then she asks softly, “Why do you hate him, Mom?”

“He broke your heart, sweetie, isn’t that reason enough?” It might be. If Alice were a normal mom.

“But that’s not it, though. You didn’t hate him then. It’s only been since—”

But Alice interrupts her before she can finish flipping through her mental calendar. “Have you talked to Hunter since you got to Chicago?”

“No, Mom. And I don’t plan to. We broke up. I’m okay with it. He’s okay with it. You’re the only one not okay with it.”

“I just think it was so sudden! What with that and moving so far away, are sure you’ve thought everything through? And now you’re seeing Jughead, I just want you to be sure you’re not making a mistake.” Betty resists the urge to rub her temples. It’s a conversation they’ve had before. More than once. Though the Jughead dimension adds some new seasoning to the mix. But Betty isn’t going to convince her today, and, regardless of answering the phone—or even texting—at work, she does still have things to get done.

“I am sure, Mom. Oh—Cynthia’s coming. Gotta go, love you, bye!”

She hangs up the phone and turns it face down before leaning back in her chair and running her hands over her face.

Alice still pronounces “Jughead” as if his name were two words.

She had liked him once. Betty could remember a time when she preferred him to Archie. But then, a few years ago Betty had brought The Final Fissure home to read on a visit, and Alice’s face puckered up like she was sipping on vinegar. The couple of times Jughead has come up since, Alice’s face has darkened and she’s changed the topic as quickly as possible.

When they return from New York, Mary and Mike host a belated Fourth of July barbecue. They string up a triangular American flag banner and twinkle lights. Neighbors mingle on the sidewalk and in the yard. Kids play pick-up ball in the cul-de-sac. It’s quaint in a way Betty didn’t know cities could be. She arrives before Jughead, and wanders with a diet Coke in hand, sometimes stopping to talk or to help Mary refill a cooler or a party tray.

After an hour though, he still hasn’t returned her texts. She’s a little worried, it seems out of character for the short time they’ve been texting, so she heads upstairs where it’s quiet enough to call him. But on the landing, she can hear a familiar voice coming through a bedroom door.

She knocks twice before cracking the door open and peaking her head in. Jughead is sitting on the foot of the bed, one hand holding the phone to his ear, the other pinching the bridge of his nose.

He looks up, confused, when she opens the door but then waves her in.

“I know, Dad. I know. No, she’s just— Look, can you just talk to her? Maybe she’ll listen to you. I know that, but you can at least explain my reasons. Fine. Can we come back to this conversation later? Yeah, okay. Love you too.”

“Hey.”

“Hey.” His eyes are soft but his mouth still holds tension. He looks back down at his phone. “Oh, you texted.”

“Yeah, nothing important. How’s FP?”

“Fine.”

She quirks an eyebrow at him. “He is. JB on the other hand…” But he trails off, leaving Betty to fill in the blanks with information she does not have.

“Wanna talk about it?” She moves to sit next to him on the bed.

He shrugs and continues to talk down to his hands, where they hold the phone on his lap. “She got into Syracuse but she’s insisting she’s going to stay home and go to community college. Wants to study sound engineering or something.”

“I mean if that’s what she wants to do. You don’t want her spending four years unhappy and coming out of it in debt.”

“But that’s not it. She thinks we don’t know it’s cause she doesn’t want to leave FP. And she’s the one who always insists he’s okay. Tells me I worry too much.”

Betty pauses before she responds. She can see how delicate the situation is. If Jughead bought their house, Jellybean probably thinks this is her way of contributing. And, irrational as it is—families don’t keep score, not even hers—she understands where Jellybean is coming from. But Betty knows Jughead would shut that line of reasoning down. He’ll forever see the baby sister that needs love instead than the young woman that needs to give it.

“How does FP feel about it?”

“He says she’s an adult and can make her own decisions. She’s sure as hell not an adult if she’s gonna screw all her decisions up.” He moves one hand from his lap to crumple the comforter beside him.

“But you know you can’t decide for her.” She rubs a hand up and down his arm. “So why the blow up now? Didn’t she have to decide on a school a few months ago?”

“Well, yeah. But I may have thought she was gonna come to her senses and sent in a deposit for her.”

“Oh, Jug.” He looks up at her through a curtain of hair and her breath hitches. The co-mingled frustration-sadness-exhaustion on his face arrests her. It’s a face he wore so often in high school. The face of someone forced to be an adult too young. It’s a face she knows he’s trying to save Jellybean from.

So she encourages him to vent, and he does, a little. But before the tension has fully left his face, she sees him make the effort to smile at her. “Hey, let’s go rejoin the party. They’re probably wondering where you are.”

“Yeah, okay.” She lets him lead her out of the room, his hand on the space between her shoulder blades.

When they make it downstairs, he manages to shake off the mood. They get food and proceed outside to mingle, but he doesn’t leave her side unless it’s to refill her drink. And when either of them is away, it’s as if a magnet draws them back together.

Occasionally, his hand brushes against her lower back. She knows he’s just being considerate—maybe it’s some residual protectiveness redirected from Jellybean. But she can’t help that every touch drops heat into her bloodstream. And even as her blood heats up, that same protectiveness turns her ovaries to mush.

She tries to beat her hormones into submission.

Eventually, she leaves him chatting with Mike and heads inside to cut up another tray of fruit.

He does it again while she’s slicing up the watermelon, and she’s so startled the knife slips and cuts a gash in her thumb. For a moment she freezes, watching the blood well up, then Jughead grabs her wrist and drags her to the sink.

“Jesus, Betty, I’m sorry. I just wanted to check on you —”

“It’s okay Jug, it’s just a cut. It’ll be fine.”

The water stains the porcelain bowl of the sink a pale pink as it flushes the cut. Jughead squirts some soap into his hands and rubs them together until it foams before taking her hand again. He cups it gently in both of his and make shallow passes over the cut with his own thumb. For some reason, she feels tears sting the back of her throat.

When the water clears and the suds slip away down the drain, he says, “Here, come on. I’ll wrap it up.”

She follows him back upstairs, to the bathroom she’s since learned houses the advil. She hops up onto the counter while he rummages under the sink for the first aid kit. He’s not wearing his beanie again today. She resists the urge to run her fingers through his waves.

Then he lays the supplies out to the left of her and moves to stand in front of her parted legs. He picks up her left hand. It’s still a little damp. He frowns at it, and next at the hand towel laying beside the sink. Unsanitary, she thinks. Then he bends his head and blows softly on the cut. Betty gasps. Jughead freezes. The tops of his ears turn pink.

He drops her hand and leans over to grab the antibiotic ointment.

“It looks pretty shallow, so you should be fine. No stitches, or anything. Obviously,” he says, still looking away from her. When he dropped her hand, she’d curled it into her chest. The movement of her arm when she re-extends it draws his eyes back to her. He picks her hand back up and proceeds to smear the ointment on and attach the bandage with almost-clinical efficiency. But then he doesn’t let go.

Betty barely breathes. She can see the tight rise and fall of her chest in her peripheral vision.

“Jug?” He looks up from her hand, where his thumb is tracing circles on the soft underside of her wrist, as if to soothe away the pain she’d stopped noticing. “I promise it’s okay. You’re a great nurse.” She’s almost at his eye level.

He smiles. “Thanks. I am sorry though.”

“I know.” Her eyes slide to his mouth, where his front teeth keep catching and releasing his lower lip, and when she looks back up he’s watching her. His eyes are impossibly dark, pupils blown wide. He’d moved closer to her in the process of bandaging her thumb, into the cradle of her knees. She’d merely have to shift to bring their mouths together.

“I—”

He presses his lips against hers, kissing her so softly, as if he’s asking permission. She gasps again, which he must take for a yes because he squeezes her shoulder with his other hand and deepens the kiss. She kisses him back, sweeping her tongue across his, urging him to kiss her harder, but he refuses to be urged. She doesn’t think she’s ever been kissed so thoroughly, so languidly. The heat that’s been building in her belly for hours rises up and floods her system. It washes over her in dizzying, intoxicating waves.

When he moves to her neck, she lets out a small noise that makes him stop.

“I’m sorry. We shouldn’t do this.”

“We’re not doing anything. We’re making out in a bathroom.”

Betty isn’t funny. She isn’t sardonic like Jughead or full of witty one-liners like Veronica or Kevin. Even Cheryl’s insults usually make her laugh. And she’s not trying to be funny now. The single remaining synapse in her brain still capable of firing finds it advisable to simply take stock of the situation. They are making out in a bathroom, after all.

But Jughead laughs. Before he’s finished, she’s hauled his mouth back to hers and wrapped an arm around his neck. Now, she controls the kiss. She bumps her teeth against his as she kisses him messily.

After a few minutes in which she finally gets him to pick up the pace, gets his lips to match the urgency she feels, he pulls back again.

“Betty, stop. There are things I need to—“

“Later.” His next protest turns into a groan when she sucks on his tongue. That seems to flip a switch in him. He kisses her so hard he shakes the breath from her lungs and she feels something begin to uncoil in the center of her chest.

His hands move from her waist down to her thighs, sliding up and down until he hooks them under her knees and lifts a little. It stretches her hips and feels as if he’s folding her, but it brings him closer. She wraps her legs around his waist, and her eyes go wide when she feels he’s already hard. His hands go to her ribcage, but she pulls them up to cup her breasts, where he strokes gentle circles. The sensation brings her hands to his arms and she squeezes muscles that were not there the last time they did this. Then, when he tugs on her lower lip with his teeth and soothes the bite with the flat of his tongue, she rakes her fingers across his scalp and he hisses against her.

She releases his mouth with a gasp and when he opens it to speak again she cuts him off. “If you stop or ask me if I’m okay or do anything other than kiss me again, I will bite you.”

He smirks at her, then pulls her face back to his with a hand on her neck. He whispers against her lips, “As you wish.” Then he uses his thumb, the same thumb that so delicately washed hers and stroked her wrist, to force her head back. He lays a series of sucking kisses down the column of her neck, and then he scrapes his teeth against her collarbone.

Bastard.

A knock sounds on the door. Jughead groans and rests his forehead on her shoulder.

Luckily it’s a guest. Someone who does not know them and who does not comment on their flushed faces and rumpled clothing. Betty slips out while Jughead sweeps the first aid supplies back under the sink.

They get separated again downstairs. But throughout the rest of the evening, when he’s not next to her, occasionally brushing his hand against her lower back, she can feel the weight of his gaze on her as she moves. Sometimes she catches him. Sometimes he blushes. Sometimes his brow is furrowed as if she’s a puzzle he’s trying to solve. Sometimes his face is so open she cannot read it.

He’s not the boy she loved. But she’s not the same girl either. Today wasn’t a continuation or a re-do. But it was fun. And he’s hot. And they’re millennials. They can hook up at a party and keep just being friends. 

Right?

[inyri]

Equivalent Exchange (an SWTOR story): Chapter Sixteen- Best-Laid Plans

Equivalent Exchange by inyri

Fandom: Star Wars: The Old Republic Characters: Female Imperial Agent (Cipher Nine)/Theron Shan Rating: E Summary: If one wishes to gain something, one must offer something of equal value. In spycraft, it’s easy. Applying it to a relationship is another matter entirely. F!Agent/Theron Shan. (Spoilers for Shadow of Revan and Knights of the Fallen Empire.)

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Best-Laid Plans (or, we really ought to be to Rishi by now but Nine decided to misbehave)

15 ATC. After Rakata Prime.

I’ll be in touch, Lana says as they all leave Manaan, separate ships in separate directions, when it's safe.

Theron says the same, and she knows it’s really if and not when, but in spite of herself she wishes them all luck. They're going to need it.

She goes home to Dromund Kaas for two weeks, trying to keep herself on the radar and an ear to the ground at the same time, looking for any scrap of information about the Revanites or their plans; there’s nothing, which is suspicious in itself. If their network is anywhere near as big as it appears, given the number of ships in play over Rakata Prime, secret-keeping on that scale ought to be impossible. Someone gets drunk in a cantina or lets a secret slip to a mistress or talks once too often on a bugged line- intel bleed’s inevitable, yet somehow, even with all her considerable resources in play, she still doesn't know anything. It doesn't make sense.

So when, two days in a row, she sees the same man with the same black hat and tan satchel sitting on the bench outside her building, she gets the fuck out of town.

(He might, to be fair, just have been waiting for the shuttle.

But one doesn’t survive as a Cipher for long by assuming the best of people, and besides his hat was at least three years out of style. Her Kaas City apartment had been a patron-gift at the end of her training days; she’d paid a single credit to make the transfer legal, but she’s some idea of what it would have cost- more than she could afford, even now. No one with the credits to live on this block would have been caught dead wearing that hat in public.)

They hit Nar Shaddaa first, she and her crew, to get lost in the roar of it and to stock up on supplies in case they really do need to go to ground: obvious things, mostly, ship parts and rations and energy cells, but also clothes and cosmetics and contact lenses, all the usual trappings of disguise. Who she’ll need to be depends on where she ends up, but it seems likely she won’t be able to be Cipher Nine for a while.

On Nar Shaddaa that's never been a problem- she’s got a dozen active options there, from dancer to gunrunner to dilettante. She slips from role to role, easy as life, shoring up her information networks, but even there real intel’s scarce. No sign of Lana or Theron- or Jakarro, which is remarkable, given she’s never met a Wookiee in her life who understood the concept of low profile. After a month or so, when she gets desperate enough to start asking about Revan directly, the only lead’s dodgy as anything; the Sith’s completely strung out, for one thing, eyes bloodshot with more than just dark energy and track marks down to the backs of his hands, and he points her toward a part of Shadow Town she knows better than to go anywhere near. She thanks him anyway, of course, and hands over the credits.

As she gets up to leave the cantina, a pretty dark-haired girl brushes past her on her way toward the exit, slurring an apology. It happens a dozen times a night in any bar in this district, so she’d have thought nothing of it- except that the girl doesn't smell of alcohol and her eyes are too sharp for spice and, when Nine catches a glimpse of her walking away in the mirror above the door, she's pulling a tracker from her pocket and folding it into her palm.

Sloppy little thing. Bold, to be sure, but sloppy. Not one of hers.

Outside, she ducks into the second-closest alley- not the closest; that would be the expected thing- and checks herself over, her fingers brushing over a needle-thin sliver of metal threaded into the fabric of her sleeve. It’d be alarming, really, if it wasn’t so insulting. A tracking chip. Honestly.

She stabs it into the nearest convenient vagrant, takes the long way out of the alley, and when she gets back to the safehouse she and Vector wipe it clean while the rest of them head back to the dock.

Time to go.

(I didn’t realize they’d gotten so close, Lana murmurs.

She laughs. Close was shots near enough to split your hair, footsteps echoing off pavement from feet you know are there but can’t see. Close was fingers on your throat and knives in the dark, words layered with triple meanings and poison in champagne glasses. Close was twenty hours and thirty-two minutes of pain and spitting up blood afterward in a Coronet City gutter, slung- carefully, almost, surprising in its gentleness- over SCORPIO’s cold metal shoulder because you can’t feel your own feet. Close? Hardly. It just meant I needed to change tactics.)

***

Year’s End, 15 ATC. Port Nowhere.

If she couldn't pin down the Revanites, she’d figured, perhaps she'd have better luck finding the rest of their odd little quartet. And when one wants to find someone, well- that meant bounty hunting, and given the options she’s already burned that meant Port Nowhere.

Port Nowhere’s a good place to lie low.

Imperial Intelligence always had an agent or two posted here, as did the SIS. But with no official military presence on either side and few Force-users (openly, at least) the smugglers mostly run things- the Voidhound, the closest thing this place has to a ruler, ostensibly threw her hand in with the Republic, but that doesn't mean much this far into uncharted space. There was no shortage of work to be had, either off the record for the Empire or as a freelancer, and if it ever seemed like the walls were closing in she’s got multiple exit strategies in play.

Besides, she thinks to herself, settling brown lenses onto green eyes, tucking her hair, braided and pinned flat across the crown of her head, into a neatly bobbed black wig, there’s no rule against a bit of fun along with all this work.

Kaliyo, priming the airbrush in the ‘fresher of their latest hideout, shouts over the noise of the compressor. “You had to go with ‘ravi, didn’t you? Her tattoos are a pain in my ass… every three days for a damn month. Dirala’s way easier, just that one scar.”

“Dirala got made on Nar Shaddaa. You know that.” She teases the hairline down, shakes her head to let it settle properly. “If I showed up here as her, assuming there are any of Revan’s people around, it was going to be more just than a tracker. Whereas Vairavi-” slipping out of her robe, she crosses the room to the open door, holds her arms out to the sides- “has enough of an in with the Hunters’ Guild to pull a high-credit bounty. And if you can show me an ex-Sun runner that doesn’t have tattoos I will eat my favorite hat, feathers and all.”

“Eh. Doesn’t explain why we’re still here.” Kaliyo grumbles, pressing the stencils into place along her back and around the curve of her biceps. “All the bounty leads have been dead ends so far.”

“Not entirely. We made enough money hunting side targets to get you that new gun.”

“Fair.”

The cool air through the brush hits her bare skin, making her shiver. “And we know Lana was on Tatooine six weeks ago and Jakarro passed through Molavar. Helps pin down a quadrant, at least.”

“We don’t know it was Jakarro. Still no news of the ‘pub, either.”

“Oh, come on. How many Wookiees are running around with protocol droid heads strapped to their chests?” She looks back over her shoulder. “I doubt we’ll hear much of Theron, anyway- he ought to know how to go to ground, and without an official bounty no one’s really looking for him besides the SIS and it’s not as though I can walk up and ask them.” They’d basically all committed treason, as far as their bosses were concerned, and he’d skated by with a nonlethal disavowal- whoever he is, Theron Shan’s got powerful friends.

(Lana makes a strangled little noise, her teeth sunk into her lower lip.

Oh, don’t you dare. You didn’t know any better than I did, then.)

A shrug; a change of stencil. “You could always try.”

“I could. But I thought I heard Jori Itera mention Revan last night when he was arguing with the Kelborns. Might see if I can find him and see if he’s drunk enough to let something slip.”

“And if he’s not?”

“Then we’ll all talk tomorrow about moving on. Tatooine might be worth a shot- I’ve got a contact in the spaceport who still owes me a big favor. As for tonight-” she turns at an angle to check her reflection, the clean etching of the Black Sun emblem on her right shoulder blade and decorative lines running down the backs of her arms- “it’s the last night of the year, in a bar full of Mandalorians. I’m sure I’ll find something to keep me entertained.”

Her back still needs time to dry, but while she waits, standing in front of the air vent, she pulls her skirt on and tugs it down over the tops of her thighs, clips her little gun into the waistband and does up the fastenings. Her boots are- hm.  Not next to her bed where they ought to be, nor in the trunk with her proper armor and her rifle, nor on the chair next to Vairavi’s armor (cheaper than hers, of course, assembled piecemeal as a bounty hunter’s usually was, and heavier too).

“‘liyo.” When she says it, there’s a noncommittal murmur from the general direction of the ‘fresher. “Did you, by chance, happen to steal my heeled boots when you went out last night?”

“What? No.” The tap shuts off, and Kaliyo peers out around the door. “Maybe. Steal’s such a negative word.”

She sighs.

“I’ll get ‘em. Hang on.” She vanishes out into the common room (where Vector’s diligently going through bounty leads and Temple’s napping- she’d left Lokin to his work shipboard and SCORPIO guarding the dock, seeing as how unlike the rest of them she doesn’t need to sleep or eat) and comes back a few minutes later, the boots in question dangling from her fingertips. “See, good as new.”

“Just tell me you didn’t fuck that awful smuggler while wearing my boots. You’re going to give me some kind of disease by proxy.”

Kaliyo raises her left hand, places her right squarely over her heart. “I did not fuck anyone while wearing your boots. I promise.”

“Good.” The paint finally dry, she pulls a shirt over her head and smooths it down, adjusting the neckline carefully to best effect. It’s mostly a work night- it’s always a work night for her, even when it isn’t; that part of her brain never shuts off, ever- but it’s still a holiday. One plans for all possibilities.

“Although-” Kaliyo’s hand falls, her eyes wicked as she grins- “I might have been wearing your jacket.”

***

The first rule of bounty hunting is to never pretend to be a Mandalorian.

Officially, that’s probably about the fourth rule, but in practice everyone knows the first few- everything gets logged through the Guild, don’t steal kills, don’t try to hunt above your pay grade. Somehow, though, every cantina on every backwater in every quadrant of the galaxy contains at least one idiot claiming to be the next Mandalore. The problem’s that, as low as their numbers have gotten and as insular as the clans are, every cantina in the galaxy also contains at least one person who’s at least second cousins with the current Mandalore.

She knows better than to try. Wearing this face she’s just plain Vairavi, the kind of girl who never had a surname and ended up running with the Black Sun because, awful as the Sun was, it was better than whoring or dying, which are the other two options for girls like that in the places where the light doesn’t touch. Her contract years done, she’d lit out on her own- fame and fortune and all that trite shit. A plausible story.

Which, paired with a big enough gun and a big enough swagger, will get you just about anywhere.

But when she has to duck back from the entrance to the Drunken Rancor- the Rancor’s her usual, at least in a hunter’s guise, with the Kessel Run under Imperial surveillance and the Backfire SIS territory- because someone’s exiting it face-first, she only understands half the words hurled after him but she can guess what he was trying to do; sure enough, she finally makes it through the door and Eri Kelborn, flushed and rumpled in a tight black dress quite a bit more revealing than her usual armor, is dusting off her hands and scowling.

“Can you believe that asshole?” The woman’s not talking to anyone in particular. “Tried to claim kinship. Like I wouldn’t know my mother’s sister’s child.”

“Fuckin’ idiot.” She nods agreement as she steps past her, slipping into an undercity Coruscanti drawl. “And nice throw, too. Good loft.”

“I thought so.” Eri grins, picking up her glass from the floor beside her. “Oya, Vairavi. You just missed your friend.”

That stops her short, four steps into the foyer, and she angles herself to get her back out of the line of the doorway. “Yeah? I’ve got a few of those. Did you catch a name?”

“I was only joking. He sounded like you, only posher, ‘s all- don’t get so many Core Worlders slumming it out here. Cute enough, though. Red jacket.”

“We all sound alike, eh? I’ll have to track him down. Is he still here?” If her smile looks forced, hopefully Eri’s drunk enough not to notice. Coruscanti accent, red jacket. He couldn’t possibly be that stupid. Right?

(I told him, Lana says, he needed something less conspicuous, but I’m not sure he actually owns any other jackets.

In that moment, she resolves herself. The next time they’re anywhere with a decent tailor, she’s taking Theron shopping.)

She shakes her head over the edge of her mug. “Had one drink and left half an hour ago. If you’re bored, though, Nikko Bralor’s looking for you.”

“I’ll pass. ‘m never going to be that bored.”

“Smart woman.” Eri waves her toward the bar. “Go get a drink, at least.”

She does, ordering up a whiskey- double, neat- and leans against the counter, surveying the rest of the room: crowded, with most of the crews out of armor taking the festival week as a chance to relax, even the Ubese at the far tables in uncommonly good temper (which is to say, not actively trying to stab anyone). Jori Itera’s alone at the far end of the long row of stools, three empty glasses stacked in front of him and a fourth, half-full, in his hand, his usual pose for the last six days since he’d come back from Belsavis. Rumor had it that he and Haniya’d gone after a rogue Jedi, hoping for a big payout. He’d come back alone, though, with a shattered helmet and armor painted mourning-grey and hadn’t been sober since, but she’s certain she heard him say Revan last night in the middle of a dozen Mando’a curses.

It’s a better lead than she’s had all month.

She orders a second whiskey, slides it in front of him until it clinks against the stack of empties. “Jori,” she says, “I heard about Haniya. I’m sorry.”

He grunts and doesn’t look up at her, but when he drains the glass in his hand he reaches for the one she put down. “Girl, I’ll tell you what. You’re hunting a Sith, aren’t you?”

She nods. Only technically- with her name on Lana’s bounty it made another team less likely to claim it- but still.

“It en’t worth the payout, trust me, dealing with that Force shit.” He sighs. “Should’ve listened to Hani.”

“She didn’t want to take it?”

“She wanted to go home. Hadn’t been back in years- she was a Beroya before we got married- but her sister called a few weeks ago and asked her to come visit- said there was bad business afoot, that they might be back to fighting soon and that Torch said they’d need-” he stops. “Never mind. Not for you to know, aruetii.”

Carefully, nonchalantly, she shrugs. “Means nothing to me, anyway. Was that what you were fighting with Eri and Ket about last night? Only word I understood was Revan, but I figured that’s like a swear word for you lot after what he did, yeah?”

His fifth glass, empty, hits the bartop with a dull thud, and his lip curls. “Leave it, ‘ravi. I’ll only say it once.”

“Is that a threat?” She gestures to the bartender, holds up a finger and points- even if it is, another full glass ought to go a fair way toward calming him. Jori only laughs, though, and shakes his head.

“No. But you don’t want to kick that nest.” Drink in front of him again, he takes it in hand and lifts it toward hers. “Now, I’ll take your drink for my Haniya, and then I’ll be asking you to leave me be.”

Their glasses touch; she drinks, nods, and turns away.

Well, it’s something.

Making her way back to the other end of the bar, she lifts her comm to her mouth. “Vector? I’ve got a new search for you.”

He answers almost immediately, as always. “We were just finishing the last of the reports. We’ll take the parameters when you’re ready.”

(I miss him, she says. She’d have given her eyeteeth for a dozen of him except for the Killik business. It made her skin crawl, which wasn’t his fault, of course. Poor Vector.

But he had known, even when she couldn’t say it in that awful year when every word out of her mouth was one of Hunter’s lies, when her hands stuttered over keypads and even putting a pen to paper yielded only splotches of ink instead of letters her body flatly refused to shape, that something was wrong. In black moments he’d simply press his hands to her temples and close his eyes, humming. She’d asked him why, later, when she could, and he had said only that he was trying to help her remember the Song.)

“Current location of Clan Beroya. Cross-reference Torch. I think it’s a nickname, but definitely a person.”

“The scent of our prey?”

“I don’t know. Something related, at least. You have until morning.” Vector had no plans to celebrate, she knew. Alcohol, apparently, did awful things to Joiner physiology.

She can already hear the soft tap of fingertips on a datapad. “As you say. Shall we call with updates?”

“Hm.” Eyes on her back, from somewhere nearby. “No. No-” louder, enough that whomever’s watching should be able to hear- “tell him the contract’s off. He must think I’m fresh out of the sublevels, giving those terms.”

“Understood.” His voice curls around the word in amusement. “We’ll speak in the morning.”

She closes the channel.

When she turns to see who’s watching she has to duck under an outstretched arm that’s about two seconds away from snaking its way around her neck. She catches said arm by the wrist and twists, driving her other hand in at the shoulder until its owner yelps and staggers and-

“I was just comin’ to wish you happy- ow!”

“Damn it, Nikko. Next time you try that I’ll break your arm.” She lets him go, rather than slamming his head into the wall like she meant to; she should let him hit the wall, honestly, and teach him a lesson given the way he’s been pestering her, but then he’d probably bleed all over her shoes. “What part of ‘fuck off’ ‘re you having trouble with?”

As he rubs his shoulder sheepishly there’s a snort of laughter from the nearest table, where a tiny woman she doesn’t recognize sits with her feet propped up, ankles crossed on the tabletop. “I told you she wasn’t interested, idiot. You owe me fifty credits.”

Lifting one hand in an obscene gesture, Nikko scowls. “Oh, shut it, Ves. Like you’d do any better with that pretty face of yours.”

She’d never seen Vesja with her helmet off; they’d run into each other at the brokerage a few times, but Ves hunted on her own, not with her brother, and had been off-station for most of her own time here. When the woman turns out of profile she can tell what Nikko meant- the right side of her face is a ruin of scars half-hidden by fair hair, three long slashes that span the distance from chin to forehead, her eye clouded white and the corner of her mouth drawn up in a perpetual smirk.

At the moment, it’s half a smirk and half a snarl as Vesja hops out of her her chair. “Double it, then.”

“It’s your money, but fine. A hundred credits.” He folds his arms across his chest, looking absurdly smug. She really should have let him hit the wall.

Her eyebrow arched, she looks back and forth between the two of them- up and down, really, with Nikko towering well above her head and his sister barely shoulder height. “Can I ask,” she says, “what exactly you’re betting on?”

Vesja sighs. “Hey, 'ravi. My charmer of a baby brother doesn’t think you’d care to join me for a drink.”

“Hi, Vesja. No offense, but your brother’s kind of a cunt.”

The other woman grins. “Ain’t he, though?”

“And I’ll take that drink on one condition.” She turns her back on him completely, his stammering disbelief delightful in its incoherence. “Tell me how you got those scars.”

“I think I can manage that. C’mon, then,” Ves says, an arm around her waist, and-

(She stops. You… probably don’t need to hear the rest of that story.  

A happy new year, indeed?

She winks drolly at Lana, who definitely doesn’t need to hear the rest of that particular story- after a handful of drinks they’d gone upstairs, and she’d spent midnight, and most of the rest of the night, with her skirt pushed up above her hipbones and her thighs clamped tight around Ves’ ears. Say what one likes about Mandalorians, but to a one they fight like demons and they fuck just as hard as they fight; it was a damn good thing that bar was loud.

Lana shakes her head. Honestly, I have no idea how you ever get any work done.

I’m very good at multitasking. Ask Theron.

All things considered, Lana says, I think I shouldn’t.)

The next morning, Vector’s report’s still running when she makes it back to the safehouse, and they all agree it’s time to move. Back on the ship, she’s changing back into her armor when Kaliyo knocks on her cabin door.

“Hey. There’s something wrong with the navicomputer.”

“Wrong how?” Hair unplaited, it stands around her face in tight waves until she shakes her head.

“It’s locked on one destination- some planet I’ve never heard of. Come see.”

Kaliyo’s right, when she looks; no matter how many times she resets it or how hard she smacks it with the flat of her hand, it’s stubbornly locked on-

“Oh.” Vector, head tilted, peers over her shoulder as he steps onto the bridge. “We didn’t realize you had already seen the results of our report.”

“What are you talking about? I can’t get this bloody thing to work properly.” She kicks it again. “SCORPIO? Get in here and fix this.”

“Rishi.” He points at the screen, at the planet they’re apparently heading to whether they like it or not. “You asked us to locate Clan Beroya. The most recent intelligence available suggests that they have settled, along with several other allied clans, on Rishi.”

That’s a hell of a coincidence.

“Well, then. I suppose we’re headed to Rishi.”

(You'd had better luck tracking the Revanites than I did, clearly, she says with a shrug. You'd been on Rishi for a while before I got there, hadn't you?

Lana nods, then shakes her head- Yes, and no. We'd been there perhaps a month, but finding them at all was half luck and half recklessness- I almost got caught on Tatooine twice. That Theron noticed your ship on Port Nowhere was a complete coincidence. We'd lost track of you, too, by then.

That hangar was locked up tight. He didn’t stumble on it by accident.

No. In his words, you poached it out from under him. He had to scramble for a new landing platform, and when he went to find out who’d stolen his secure dock he realized it was you.

That answers that question- she’s never been sure how he'd managed to slice her ship. Not remotely- no one was that good, not even Theron, with SCORPIO embedded in Nightshrike’s system- so it must have been the old-fashioned way, when she'd hooked into Port Nowhere’s database to update the astrogation charts. I did wonder how he'd pulled that off.

We weren't ready yet, not really. Hence the whole pirate nonsense. Rolling her eyes at the memory, Lana sneaks the bottle out of her hand again. She at least has the decency to look mostly sorry- though only mostly, the effect rather spoiled by the whiskey bottle at her lips. But it was either that or risk not being able to find you again. And it could have been worse.

I fail to see how.

We settled on the Howling Tempest eventually, but Theron suggested the Red Hulls. Lana grins. Who, apparently, were cannibal pirates.)

***

Up next: Backfire, in which we finally get to Rishi, and Theron and Nine have more in common than they think (and will likely continue to talk more than I plan for them to, so that's quite enough plot hints for now!)

[emergencyplumberbirmingham]

Plumbing Yardley, Birmingham

Many often do not think much of plumber and plumber services in Yardley. This is due to many reasons such as the low prestige of the trade or the infrequent need of and contact with the Yardley plumber. However, they provide a valuable service to society, allowing us to enjoy the comfort of our environment with a well functioning plumbing system.

Obtaining a plumbing license in Yardley does not state specific guidelines. Currently Local  has general licensing guidelines for licensed plumbers in Yardley.

General Requirements to Become a Plumber in Yardley

In order to become a plumber in Yardley who offers Plumbing, the person should apply for a plumbing license. This license is issued by Local city the person resides in. Therefore, each city within the state can have its own plumbing license requirements. However, all counties and cities within Yardley agree that a plumber must have work experience as an apprentice. Before you can become licensed, your work experience would need to be completed under a plumber who is already licensed by Yardley.

A plumber in Yardley is a very important person who plays a very crucial role in the smooth running of a home or business premises. The supply of clean water and the proper disposal of waste from a building is the responsibility of the plumber.

How to Start a Plumbing Business

The Roman's used lead and clay piping for potable water that serviced private homes, amphitheaters, and bathhouses throughout the Roman Empire. In fact lead was still the predominant metal used for water services servicing homes and businesses in the US up until WW II. Lead was very flexible and extremely durable which made it an ideal piping material. In fact "lead wiping" was considered an art form. The use of lead for potable water declined sharply after WW II because of the dangers of lead poisoning. There is still some controversy with regards to the harmfulness of lead water services being used. Some testing was done several years ago and it was found that the service calcified so quickly very little if any lead leeched through the calcification be that as it may lead services are no longer used and are still being replaced to this day in some of our larger older cities across the US.

Just after WWII copper became the material of choice for water services around the country and galvanized screw piping became the material of choice for interior plumbing piping. In the 70's, copper replaced galvanized piping for water piping supremacy. Copper is fairly easy to work with, comes in soft (annealed) and hard copper. There are several different grades of copper water, waste and vent piping; DWV copper tubing is the thinnest walled copper tubing and is only recommended in drainage waste and vent applications. Type "M" is the thinnest walled copper to be used for plumbing water piping. It is approved for water piping in most municipalities but it's more popular use is for drain, waste and vent (DWV) piping.

Ductile iron replaced sand cast in the early 1960s. Ductile iron is a cast iron, but the way it's heated and enhanced by chemical compounds greatly improved its strength and improved on cast iron's tendency to be strong but very brittle.

With regards to waste and vent piping, cast iron and PVC are the materials used most especially for large diameter piping. Copper is also used for waste and vent but in smaller diameter applications. Because of copper's value it becomes cost prohibitive to use it with larger diameter pipe for reference, say 3" and above.

There is one other area that we think needs to be touched upon and its acid waste piping. Acid waste, by definition, is any waste in which acids appear in higher concentrations than found in household waste. Although PVC has acid resistant properties, it is not recommended for use in situations where piping is continually exposed to higher than normal concentrations i.e. photo labs, science labs, chemical companies etc. In these situations acid resistant pipe and fitting are recommended.

The Different Kinds of Plumbing Services

When working as a plumber some of the work that you might do includes installing and repairing various plumbing systems such as waste and water.

Leak detection

One of the main reasons that a plumber may be called by a homeowner for leak detection is that their water bill has suddenly went up due to a high reading. Searching for the leak could take a few hours and may include having to cut holes in the walls to check out the pipe fittings and pipes. If possible, call the plumber during their operating hours because it is more expensive to call after hours, which is considered an emergency call.

Unclogging pipes

Many things can clog sinks, like hair, food, grease, etc and may require a plumber's service if you cannot unclog it yourself. When a plumber comes to your home, they have special tools they can use like plumber's snakes and rooter machines. The rooter machine has rotating blades that are hooked to cables and spin to clear the clog. A plumber's snake reaches into the pipes to clear the clogs. Some plumber's snakes have a small camera attached so they can see inside the pipes and they also come in various lengths. If it is a very tough clog the plumber may use hydro-jetting. This involves used high-pressured water to unclog and clean the pipes. It can also be used on septic systems and sewer lines.

Rerouting pipes

When you have old leaky pipes or doing home remodeling, a professional plumber may be called to re-pipe or reroute the pipes. This involves changing the configurations of the pipes so they mesh with the new design of the new kitchen or kitchen. It is also done to close off damaged or leaky pipes.

Plumbers also do preventative inspections of the plumbing system to help prevent any future problems from occurring, usually when a home is sold or being bought. They visually review the fixtures and pipes, test the flow of drains, and check faucets for leaks.

Why Is Plumbing Important in Yardley?

So, you want to start a plumbing business. This could be a terrific decision, or, it could be the worst idea ever. Starting a plumbing business, or any business really, involves a certain amount of structured thinking to put everything in place, and making sure that you have thought of everything. By following this strategy planning process, you will have covered all the important aspects of getting your planning and strategy in the right place, and this will make the starting of your own plumbing business some 450% more successful.

The Strategy Required to Start Any Business

Starting a plumbing business, a bakery, or a high-tech company all requires the same basic thinking strategy. To remember it best, use the EASI acronym. In this case, E stands for emotion, A for achieving a win, S for simple and straightforward and I for the implementation.

Everybody wanting to start a business should be aware that it is going to involve plenty of challenges, hardships, stress, worry, and a multitude of other issues. The process of starting a business has often been likened to jumping off a cliff, and building an aeroplane on the way down. It will mean sleepless nights, long working hours and the unwavering support of family and friends around you. This is real, and the reason so many start-up businesses fail.

The first step, therefore, is to examine the reasons that you want to start the business in the first place. This involves an examination of the emotions, or feeling behind the rationale of starting your own plumbing business. Everyone will have their own reasons for wanting to start their business. It may be as a last resort as they are unable to find employment in the field, it may be that they hate having a boss, it may be that they want to become extraordinarily wealthy. Whatever the reason, it is essential that the owners of the business, if there are more than one, are aware of the strength of their emotions regarding the venture. This will determine the power of the motivation, the real forces behind the venture, and, with the aid of a skilled consultant, allow the prospective business owners to determine if their vessel will survive the storms on the ocean, or if there needs to be some additional emotional management included.

The second item speaks to the vision, or goal of the organisation. A prospective plumbing business may have as its goal to be a loss leader and therefore a tax write-off. It may be that achieving a win with the business would be familial survival, or putting children through school. Either way, all the owners need to be able, collaboratively, to understand what the goal is and to have a combined vision of the business that everyone can buy into. Without this shared vision, any subsequent planning and strategizing will ultimately be negated and sporadic, with everyone involved having different goals and aims, instead of pulling together in the right direction.

Keep Things Simple and Straightforward

It does not take any real skill to make things more complex. The real genius in any situation is to make things more simple. This line of thinking is propagated by all the top entrepreneurs such as Richard Branson, Bill Gates, and Elon Musk. Albert Einstein often used to say that if you couldn't explain a thing to a six-year-old, you didn't understand it yourself. In light of this strategic thinking, the next piece of advice is to keep all your plans and strategies simple and straightforward. Set a goal that everyone involved, all the stakeholders, can buy into. See where you currently are, and plan a way to get to that goal that all concerned can understand, appreciate, and take ownership of.

These steps, as outlined above, if conducted thoroughly and efficiently, with the businesses core vision in mind and a positive collaborative mindset as a starting point, will ensure that the business has a better than 80% chance of success. However, as stated numerous times during this discussion piece, this is not a 5-minute exercise. This is a detailed strategic thinking process that will require honesty and commitment. There are certain things, therefore, that should be borne in mind before even embarking on the strategy process.

The first is an audit of the emotional intelligence of the stakeholders in the plumbing business. Like any service industry, plumbing involves hard work and much on-site work where things can easily go wrong. A high emotional intelligence score amongst the business owners is the best possible indicator of success. Emotional intelligence means being able to cope and manage the stresses and challenges involved, it means training your mind to find solutions in the midst of chaos happening all around you, and it means being able to be an effective leadership team who can steer a business through uncertain times. On the other hand, it does not mean someone who succumbs to the influences of anger or vindictiveness. Emotional intelligence can be learned and improved upon, so it certainly can be developed, but it is key that this quality be determined before initiating any business.

Secondly, there needs to be an understanding that knowledge is vital. The prognosis for a baker who wakes up one morning and sees a plumber friend making lots of money and then decides to start a plumbing business is unfortunately not very good. Plumbing, in order to be successful, needs to be done well. In a highly competitive business environment such as there is today all over the world, any business needs to actually be good at their job to be successful. It is for this reason that it is a prerequisite of starting a plumbing business that the stakeholders at the very least have access to high quality plumbing services. This includes knowing all aspects of the work, the market potential, and the survival rates of their competition. Without this core knowledge, no matter how good the strategizing process and the plans that come out of it, there is no chance of success.

In conclusion, therefore, starting a plumbing business is easy. Starting a plumbing business that is successful and over the short, medium, and long term can deliver on the aims and requirements of the owners is less much less easy. The key differentiator here is having a good, well thought out and innovative strategy, and using this strategy to generate and compile effective implementation plans in the right areas. JFK always used to say that efforts and courage are not enough without purpose and direction, and so it is with many things, and starting a plumbing business is one of those things.

#

Emergency plumber Birmingham offers Plumbing 

from EPB http://emergencyplumberbirmingham.co/local/yardley-plumbers/