#prevent frozen pipes

[shelter-air]

How My Grandfather’s Percolator Taught Me About Frozen Pipes

❄️ A frosty morning, a vintage percolator, and a lesson learned the hard way—frozen pipes! Stay warm and keep those faucets dripping! 💧 #WinterTips #FrozenPipes #HVAC

How My Grandfather’s Percolator Taught Me About Frozen Pipes As temperatures outside plummet into the single digits, it always takes me back to a lesson I learned as a kid during a frosty winter in Frostburg, Maryland. True to its name, Frostburg is one of the coldest spots in the state, nestled high in the mountains. My grandfather lived in an old, drafty house without insulation. When the…

[resqpro]

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[nepowerdry]

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[valeriianz]

Here’s another half-formed dreamling fic with them stuck in a snow storm while flurries currently whistle past my windows (and cover my screens in white).

Dream, sitting on the floor of his kitchen, surrounded by candles because the power is out, and sipping a glass of red wine. He’s bundled in a blanket and desperately failing to conserve battery on his phone, by texting Hob, who’s also lost power.

Dream slouches back against his oven, of which the burners are on to give off some blessed heat (thank God his oven is gas), while he reads the latest message from Hob, lamenting how bleeding cold it is in his own apartment, a newly renovated chrome building on the edge of the city, where everything, including the heat, was electric.

Dream mourns for him, even though Hob makes light of the situation with his witty texts and flirtatious hints of how Dream could warm him up.

They’d only been on a handful of dates, not yet fallen into bed together… Dream awkwardly explaining to Hob that it took a while, if at all, for sexual attraction to form within a new relationship. Hob had, surprisingly, taken it in stride. Becoming patient and thoughtful, always communicating, and never pushing Dream’s limits. 

It was refreshing, and– to Dream’s complete surprise– he’d found himself falling hard for the other man. Who knew a simple acknowledgment to boundaries would get him so wound up? His pulse quickened with every smile Hob gave him, his stomach tying itself in knots whenever Hob would take his hand, and his brain completely shutting off when Hob would kiss him. Chaste things that had progressively turned more and more heated with every encounter. Promising something more and more each time they met.

Currently, the sounds of his windows rattling from the flurries outside fill his dark apartment, along with the flutter of the open flames on his stove, and the quiet drip, drip, drip of the kitchen tap (to prevent frozen pipes, Dream had learned that lesson the hard way last winter).

After about an hour of texting Hob, Dream nearly halfway done with the bottle of wine, he receives a text that makes his heart jump.

So, what if i told you im actually outside your building?

Dream stood up so suddenly the candles around him nearly snuffed themselves out.

He yanked on his boots and pulled on his oversized winter coat, stumbling to his front door and marching down the stairs of the apartment complex he resided in, the age of which you could smell in its walls, see in the cracks and warps in the wooden floors. He made it down to the entrance and pulled open the door, the ice cold wind smacking Dream in the face immediately.

But then he saw a smudge of brown in the whiteness approaching. Dream kicked down the snow that had piled up at the door and waded forward in knee deep snow to meet Hob halfway and help him past the threshold.

Once the door slammed shut behind them, Dream took a proper look at Hob.

“You look like the abominable snowman.”

Hob laughed. He was absolutely covered in snow, piled high on his shoulders, his boots, even on his eyelashes.

“I feel like one.” Hob said, his voice cracked and breathless.

Once they’re back inside Dream’s apartment, and Hob’s outer layers have been stripped off and hung in the shower to drip dry, Dream sets off to boil water on the stove top for tea.

They sit on Dream’s couch, sharing a blanket and sipping tea while Dream admonishes Hob for coming out in the middle of a storm. What was he thinking?? To which Hob just shrugs and curls his nearly numb fingers around the hot mug, snuggling even further into Dream’s side and sighing.

“Worth it, to see you.”

“You’re insane,” Dream says, but smiles through it. 

Hob’s skin glows with the orange and yellow flickering of the candles, his features softening and barely noticeable in the limited light. But Dream knows them by now. Knows the curve of Hob’s thick, dark eyebrows, down to the scruff of his jaw, and back up to the prominent shape of his nose. He’s always handsome, but right now, shadowed in soft light and his cheeks still pink from the cold, he’s lovely. And Dream can’t help but set his mug down, taking Hob’s as well, and kissing him.

His lips arm warm from the tea, and he tastes of lavender and honey, and it makes Dream want. Want to climb onto Hob’s lap and crawl inside him. Make a nest for himself– warm and safe and cared for under Hob’s breast bone. There he could listen to the rhythmic beat of his heart, how it thunders now, under Dream’s hand as he caresses down Hob’s sweater and gets teasing fingers under the hem, touching the soft flesh of his hips and stomach.

Hob moans into his mouth, making Dream’s skull vibrate and he nearly gives in, something dark and unknown swirling in his lower belly that drives his fingers to press harder, feel the texture of Hob’s skin, the smattering of hairs at his stomach, but he forces himself to slow down, to take it easy, to enjoy and luxuriate in what they have now. 

Hob, miraculously, follows along. His own hands cupping each side of Dream’s head and only getting his fingers in his hair, matching Dream’s pace, kissing back with no intention of more unless Dream initiated. Moving his mouth at Dream’s pace, breaking apart and nudging his nose and lips under his jaw and nuzzling behind Dream’s ear and making him shudder pleasantly.

“Dream, Dream…” Hob mumbles, seemingly content in just kissing, just holding one another. “I could do this for hours.”

Dream grips the hem of Hob’s sweater, holding tightly as to prevent himself from ripping it off Hob. Another time, very soon, he knows. Dream has every intention to give into the temptation that is Hob Gadling, but the waiting is so much more fun. The anticipation, the slow understanding of his own feelings brimming up to the surface, will be that much more satisfying when he’s certain Hob will reciprocate them.

Hob just might love him back, right now. But Dream waits. Though, he does allow himself a confession:

“I could do this forever.”

[topazy]

Tomorrow’s promise

Pairing: Daryl Dixon × reader, Rick Grimes × sister reader

Warnings: Violence, swearing

Chapter: 5.02

After being taken from the train car along with Rick, Bob, and Glenn, Daryl’s hands were zip-tied by their hands and feet and forcefully lined up in front of a drainage pipe. The sounds of flesh being sliced combined with terrified screams were enough to bring tears of fear to Daryl’s eyes. They witnessed three men being bludgeoned and having their throats slit before an explosion went off nearby, causing the building to shake and distracting the butchers long enough for Rich to free himself and kill them.

Daryl rips the rag from his mouth as Rick frees his hands. “What is this place? Slaughterhouse?”

“A human slaughterhouse,” Glenn mumbles.

Daryl gets to his feet and then helps Bob up. “These sick bastards have Jace. We need to find him.”

Rick steps in front of him, preventing him from rushing out the door leading outside. “I want to find him as much as you do, but we need to be smart about this. We need weapons. Can’t fight them off with nothing.”

Begrudgingly, Daryl nods in agreement. He couldn’t lose them, not again.

“Was anybody else taken?” Glenn asks quietly while they make their way to another room.

“I don’t think so—” Daryl enters the room they keep butchery equipment in first and instinctively covers his mouth. “Holy shit.”

The smell of death fills the room, and hooks with human limbs hung from the ceiling. A lump forms in the back of Rick’s throat. “You cross any of these people, you kill them. Don’t hesitate; they won’t.”

“They’ve got Jace,” Daryl’s voice cracks. “These sick fucks have him. We need to get the kid and get back to the rest of our people now.”

—

Bile hits the back of your throat when you find the room Jace is being kept in. He was on the ground underneath a flipped-over crib, preventing him from crawling away. Which was a blessing considering a walker was restrained to the wall next to where he was.

The blonde woman from earlier was sitting on the floor sobbing, rubbing at a bit mark on her ankle. You could hear gunfire and screams coming through her radio, but she was ignoring it.

Quietly you pick up the bloodied bat from the door and swing it, bashing the girl across the face before she has the chance to shoot you; she screams in pain but drops her weapon. You take the gun she dropped and run to the wall and stab the walker that’s chained up in the head, then use the outside of a jacket you found in the hallway to soak up some of its blood.

“You’ll never make it out,” she sobs. “None of us will!”

You flip the crib off Jace and pick him up; once he’s in your arms, you’re reminded that Judith wasn’t with Rick when he arrived. “Mommy’s here; it’s okay, baby, it’s okay.”

While trying to short Jace underneath your top to make sure the blood from the jacket doesn’t touch his skin, you keep one eye on the blonde and almost pity her. If she wasn’t part of Terminus, you would have either tried to save her or given her a mercy kill; instead, you were leaving her to turn.

—

Your heart thuds in your chest as multiple footsteps get closer as you stand frozen on the concrete staircase at the building's fire escape. You were stuck; you couldn’t go any further up because the asshole running this place was on the roof shooting at walkers, or so you heard on the radio, meaning you had no choice but to go down.

Please don’t cry. Jace, please don’t cry. It was a miracle you made it this far; the inside of the building was slowly starting to fill with walkers, and your makeshift weapon was becoming blunt, and soon it wouldn’t be sharp enough to stab them in the head with.

The people walking below whisper, but the closer they get, the more clear their conversation becomes. “We go in pairs to clear each room; nobody is left behind.”

You lean over the banister and look down. “Rick?”

“Lil?” Both Rick and Glenn pop their heads over the bannister and look up at you surprised. “We came to find—”

The door on the top floor creaks open, and instinctively you step backwards out of the line of sight of anyone looking down. It was Gareth, and it sounded like he was reloading a weapon. Doing your best to try and remain calm, you press your back against the wall and carefully take one step at a time, trying desperately to reach your brother without making any noise.

Holding Jace with one hand, you use the other to keep hold of the handrail. You continue to make your way down until you come face to face with someone coming upstairs, Daryl.

The look on his face melts your heart.

Silently, Daryl cups your cheek while looking at Jace, and you could see the relief in his blue eyes.

—

When you make it outside, you stay with Rick and Carl to pick off walkers while Glenn and Bob go to the train car to let the rest of your people out. The smoke from the burning terminus was now thick and making it harder to breathe and see; the loud noise had attracted a horde of walkers, which were swarming the gardens of the building now that the community's fence was down.

What the hell happened?

“Shit, they’ve spotted us!” Daryl yells and pushes you behind him. “On the roof!”

The three of you take shelter behind a car as bullets fly in your direction. Jace’s cries are drowned out by the sound of gunshots hitting off the car and screams as zombies pile up on a woman, tearing her from limb to limb.

“Lily, this way! We’ll cover you!”

Trusting Rosita, you wave for your brother and Daryl to follow, “Come on!”

You race across the garden until you meet her at a barbed wire fence; there was a small part of the fence dipped in the middle with a thick rug over. You spot your nephew on the other side already, “Carl! Take him.”

Rosita and Abraham fight off a handful of walkers while you hand Jace over to Carl. As soon as you’re no longer holding Jace, Daryl practically throws you over the fence and then jumps over behind you.

Rosita, Abraham, and Rick climb over the fence right after. Catching your breath, you smile watching Rick reunite with Carl and Jace; you meet your brother's eye and tear up. He didn’t need to say it out loud; Judith was gone.

You look from them to Daryl and frown; in the daylight, his black eye looks so much worse. You throw your arms around him and bury your face into his neck, “I don’t ever want to lose you again.”

[honey-dont]

types of freight cars

made a whole post to help ppl design stex ocs as the resident freight enthusiast :) while this isn't every freight car in existence, it's definitely a good chunk of them!

FLATCARS

The most basic type of freight car. They’re…well…flat! Designed for carrying bulky loads.

Autorack: Transport automobiles. Can have single, double, or triple levels.

Boom/Idler: Placed in front of a breakdown crane to protect the boom or in front of/behind oversized loads to protect the overhang.

Bulkhead: Have walls (bulkheads) on the end. Used to transport pipe, poles, slabs, and lumber. Prone to derailing when traveling empty and put speed restrictions on the freight train.

Centerbeam: Carry lumber. Another type is the opera (round) window style. Have to be loaded/unloaded evenly to avoid the car tipping over.

Depressed Center: Used to carry extremely heavy loads such as generators. Have a lowered (depressed) middle section.

Intermodal/Well: Carry semi-truck trailers and containers. Have a lowered bottom (well).

Skeleton/Spine: Very narrow car used to transport lumber. Has stakes on the sides. Spine cars do not have stakes and are often used for intermodal transport.

GONDOLAS

Open-topped cars that generally transport loose goods. Can also be covered. Differ from hoppers in that they have flat bottoms and have to be manually unloaded or put through a rotary dumper.

Bathtub: Transport coal. Have rounded bottoms for extra space.

Coil: Carry coils of metal. Can be open or have specialized covers to protect the cargo. Typically considered a subtype of gondola, but can also be a subtype of flatcar as well.

Side-dump: Cars tip sideways to dump loads. Often carry ballast or rocks for railbeds.

HOPPERS

Evolved from gondolas but differ in that they have sloped bottoms and discharge doors. Can be covered or uncovered, and have between two to five chutes. Open cars transport bulk goods such as coal, while covered ones carry food items.

Ore Jenny: A small, specialized hopper designed to carry large loads of iron ore from mines.

BOXCAR

Enclosed cars with side or end doors. Used for bulk commodities and for goods that need to be protected from the weather.

Stock: Used to transport livestock such as cattle, horses, sheep, and poultry. Have ventilated sides for airflow. A variant used to carry fish was attached to passenger trains and was more luxurious.

Refrigerator: Insulated and cooled cars used to transport frozen goods.

TANKERS

Used to transport liquids or gases. Can be specialized to carry hazardous materials.

Milk: Specialized tank car variant (as opposed to the boxcar variant) that carries milk. Attached to passenger trains to prevent spoilage.

Pickle: There's pickles in there! The vats were filled with vinegar.

Torpedo: Carry molten iron. Designed to withstand very high temperatures.

Whale Belly: Large tank car with a lowered midsection for additional carrying capacity.

SCHNABEL

These cars are a type all of their own. Used to transport extremely large loads by pinching it between the arms of the car.

[actually-safer-to-kiss]

Personal Heater

Summary: Spencer has no heat in his apartment, but that doesn’t stop Reader from spending the night.

Couple: Spencer Reid/Fem!Reader

Category: fluff

Word count: 858

You are so stubborn. Stubborn to the point that Spencer finally caved and let you spend the night at his place, despite constantly telling you the heat is out. It took two weeks and several weather reports including wind mileage and humidity percentages, but you broke him. Now you’re in his bathroom, spitting your toothpaste and mouthwash concoction into his rickety sink. And it was your sharp, minty inhale that put the stamp of regret on the night.

Out of all potential points of convincing you to wait, he failed to mention that he lived in a building originally constructed in the early 1900s; when insulation wasn’t even a thought.

Your feet are freezing under the tile, and you’re convinced if you put enough force behind it, you can land in Spencer’s bed with one jump. Moving as minimally as possible sounds ideal because your legs feel as mobile as frozen pipes. But a screw-up will lead to you hitting the floor in the darkness, alerting your boyfriend in the living room, and — worst of all — you’ll have to admit he was right.

So instead, you lumber out of the bathroom, sliding your feet across the floor to navigate any potential hazards. The floor creaks with your weight. Once in the clear, you, quite literally, hop into bed. Spencer was still focused on some work at his desk, but he promised he wouldn’t be long since he was already in his robe. You took advantage of the time to gather the comforter and the extra blanket he’s been using. Then you grab some others folded neatly on a nearby chair (that you may or may not have fished out of his closet) and let them all fall on top of you. The warmth creeps in if you stay still and prevent drafts, but your feet instinctively rub together like they were sticks and you needed a fire. It’s the only movement you allow as you try to zone out enough to fall asleep, apart from the occasional kick to yourself for not being patient.

The benefit of being in an old building is that doors creak too. So Spencer coming in to call it a night is not subtle at all. He turns on the lamp on his side, and it’s the first time you’ve dreaded hearing him chuckle. “Well, well, well,” his tone is infuriating, “I see you found the extra blankets.”

You keep your eyes closed and hope for the best.

“I heard the floors creaking three minutes and 42 seconds ago, hun. You’re going to have to do better than that.”

Dammit. You use your bitterness to turn on your right side, making sure to keep your body encased under the small mound of various cozy materials.

Spencer’s robe is tied: boring, plaid, and brown. But it gives him a secure layer over his fun pajamas, the light blue ones with cloud patterns, also known as the ones you got him. His hair is adorably messy and his lips purse into an annoyingly cute smile. “Anything you want to say to me?”

“Yes, actually,” You prop yourself up on your elbow and look him in the eye as you ask “How the hell does someone who grew up in Vegas tolerate freezing temperatures indoors in early spring?”

“Well, robes help, but it’s also not freezing,” He corrects. “It’s 43.4 degrees outside, which means it’s…” He feels the air for reference because it matters to him. “About 58.2 degrees in here right now considering what floor we’re on and —”

“If I admit you were right, will you please come to bed?” You fall back onto your pillow and pat his, utterly defeated. 

He doesn’t hesitate to switch off the lamp. Spencer climbs in and nestles under the comforter. “No need, I already know.”

You wish you had a snappy response to that, but Spencer’s hands are already distracting you by navigating blindly under the comforter. You take the hint and push yourself closer to him. When your bodies meet, he pulls your leg up so you can be just a little closer. You wrap an arm around his shoulder and your fingers end just above the back of his neck. You play with the hair you can reach and he finally kisses you. It’s sweet and slow, with no urge to prove a point. “Your nose is so cold.” You tell him.

“So is yours.” He replies, rubbing them together. He kisses the bridge of yours.

“I’m warming up though.” Slowly but surely. You try to keep your icy toes away from his to avoid ruining the moment.

“Good. Me too.” The hand keeping your leg steady slid up your back, finding a comfortable place to rest. “Seriously though, do you think you’ll be able to sleep tonight?”

“Yes.” You nod for extra assurance.

“Okay,” He rubs your back. “Wake me up if you can’t.” He gives you another precious kiss.

You want to say you’ll be fine, but you don’t feel like risking being wrong twice in 24 hours. So you plant a kiss on his forehead, and that’s good enough for him.

[asimplearchivist]

do you ever think about the fact that Grovyle was possibly and most likely in denial about the fact that he had already permanently lost the hero?

(putting the rest under a read more because I snowballed)

because even though in the future he tells Dusknoir that his partner is still in the past out there somewhere and that they would still go after the time gears and even though it’s most definitely a bluff (that gets immediately debunked by Dusknoir revealing that the hero was right there the whole time) he still had to realize that he hadn’t come across any traces of the hero.

right?

because he wouldn’t have had any idea that amnesia would have come into play after they got separated and he would’ve been looking for and waiting to bump into the hero while traveling to gather each time gear and I can only imagine him hoping that he’d find the place already frozen and empty to indicate that the hero had at least already passed through and been there already even if he hadn’t seen them and couldn’t find them but did he realize that by the time he got to Crystal Cave’s time gear that the hero had just disappeared seemingly off the face of the earth and did he start to lose hope that he’d ever see them again and was he simply refusing to believe the possibility that he might have lost them without ever knowing where they went or what happened to them?

and then he gets his ass beat by this random Exploration Team and then Dusknoir who he’d thought he’d managed to avoid so far shows up and then he gets captured and then he almost gets killed multiple times and then he has to help this random ass team out of the future back to their time and not really thinking about it too deeply because he’s got more important things on his mind because he’s got to get back to the past and get the time gears and prevent the planet’s paralysis

and he’s so distracted and caught up in his mission like it’s the only thing he has left holding him together to the point that he’s competent oblivious to Celebi and then everything goes even more to shit and they’re cornered and blocked off from the Passage of Time and Primal Dialga shows up and Grovyle’s faltering wavering resolve finally cracks and shatters and his last potentially dying hope is that his partner is still out there somewhere because that’s all he has left to hold on to and he boasts on their behalf believing with his whole heart that they couldn’t fail

and then all of a sudden Dusknoir of all Pokemon pipes up and elects to inform him at that exact inoppurtune moment that Grovyle’s long lost partner had been right there under his nose the entire time and that Dusknoir had turned them against him and that Grovyle had grievously wounded them completely ignorant to the fact that they no longer knew him no longer recognized him and now has a partner whom their Dimensional Scream works so much better with

and then all of a sudden he has hope again but it’s so small and fragile because how in the hell are you all supposed to get out of this and your new partner comes up with a plan even Grovyle couldn’t in the heat and intensity of the moment after he’s so drained from running and running and running all by himself being accused of being a criminal being chased and hunted and attacked because he’s running out of time

and then by some miracle you three make it back in one piece and then you’re there you’re alive but you’ve lost everything you once had all your knowledge and memories and willpower to accomplish your suicide mission and even though it hurts indescribably to realize that things will most likely never be the same never be like it used to be and never again would you even look at or speak to him the same way he still has you

and now he’s determined never to let you go again you’ll have him until the life is pried from his body and he’s just so so so relieved that he can hardly stand it because now he can afford to admit to himself that he had been terrified that he’d lost you and had already started to grieve you before your time but then he has to leave you with your new better trusted partner to make sure Dusknoir couldn’t stop your plans

and even though he’s telling you “though the parting hurts” meaning you’ll have to make the decision to sacrifice yourself for the greater good at the expense of leaving your new partner all alone he also means “this wasn’t how this was supposed to go I was supposed to be there with you I didn’t want to be alone I never ever thought I’d lose you so but we’ll lose so much more if I don’t do this if we don’t do this and I’m sorry that it all had to end like this”

and then he goes through everything else fighting until his last breath trying to help you as much as he can even though he’s deceived and almost dies the closest he’s ever been and he cannot fathom the stakes at which everything rides in the balance but then the winds start to blow and the ice starts to drip and the sun starts to rise and he’s done it you’ve done it everything isn’t lost and at the very least he’s not alone while he fades into nothingness

but as he’s brought inexplicably back from the brink by ‘a higher power’ and his first thought is that same hope flooding back that he’d get to see you again that you’re still alive that you’ve both survived despite the improbable odds set against you and the hope you summon in him is so palpable you inspire it in every single person around you and you hold so much power without even realizing it and how could he ever forget you when you mean so much to him?

do you ever think about that? no? because I do. every waking second of every damn day this wood gecko haunts my thoughts.

[heyidkyay]

Who can say no to bridezilla? |

Part Six

Can't believe that this is the last part!! Although I would like to say that I'd pretty much be down to try and write an epilogue of some sorts if it's wanted, so lemme know!

But thank you for all the love on this little series, I've honestly really loved writing it. I hope you enjoy this final bit! 💗

Summary: With no date to your sister's wedding, what are you to do? No worries though, she's already got it covered, well, sort of...

Masterlist

--

“What the fuck’s gone on?” My sister outright demanded with her hands placed firmly on her hips, eyes sharp and darting between both Matty and I. 

I figured she might’ve looked a little more intimidating if the hem of her dress hadn’t been tracked in mud, or the lipstick she was wearing wasn’t slightly smudged- that, plus the fact that she had a stray fallen leaf hiding away in her pretty up-do. 

My head spun towards Matty almost on impulse, wanting to prevent the inevitable, but unfortunately, I was too late. The twat already had his big gob open before I could even think to get a word out to stop him.

“What the fuck’s gone on with us? What the fuck’s gone on with you!” Matty countered with a delighted little laugh, appearing to take a large amount of joy out of this. “I see you and Hann have already gotten started on making the most of your honeymoon- looks like you’ve been dragged through a bush backwards, love.”

My sister’s eyes widened in shock at his bluntness, but she wasn’t the type to be derailed- nor embarrassed- and I pursed my lips to keep from laughing outright when she pranced over towards Matty with a sly, devious smile of her own.

“Hilarious, Healy. Should’ve made a career out of telling jokes- oh wait, I guess you already have.”

I bit down hard on the inside of my cheek whilst watching Matty’s eyes narrow, he appeared to be looking at her in a newfound light.

“Hm, bit rich coming from the wife of my guitarist.” He was quick to retort, mouth quirked up to one side as he waited for her reaction.

“Bit rich coming from a bloke who cries when he comes.” She shot straight back, not missing a beat. My eyebrows rose. 

“It was one- two times max! Besides, I told Hann that in confidence!” Matty tutted, virtually unashamed even with the playful frown he’d since adopted, which was amusing in itself really.

My sister shot him a cheeky wink, pleased with herself. “Don’t worry, young Matthew. There’s plenty more where that came from. I’ve heard many a tale about you.”

Matty simply laughed, wrapping his arm around my shoulders almost subconsciously. “Hm, well, snitches get stitches and all that crap. Let’s just hope for your sake Hann makes it onto that cruise of yours tomorrow, hey?”

“What’s this about my honeymoon?”

“Speak of the devil and he doth appear!” Matty beheld in a deep mocking voice, his free arm outstretched towards Adam, who’d just appeared at my sister’s side to, seemingly, top her up with a drink. 

Internally I frowned, wanting my own little wine waiter. 

Y/s/n hummed sweetly in appreciation as she took the glass he held from him, tiptoeing to peck at his cheek. He smiled in turn. “Knew there was a reason as to why I married you.”

“I first thought it was just ‘cause you were up the duff.” I piped up jokingly, but the startled blank stares I got in return threw me a bit. 

I blinked slowly, eyes darting between the frozen couple who then quickly tried to save themselves, laughing my assumption off like nothing had even occurred.

And then came Matty’s imminent contribution, and he appeared just as taken aback. “Wait. What the actual fuck?”

I struggled in that next moment to find coherent words, mind whizzing, before they all just seemed to pour out of me at a nonsensical speed.

“I was just fucking about!” I yipped in defence, “You know- what with you two having been together for years, with zero mention of ever wanting to get married! You’re engagement came out of nowhere, for Christ’s sake, everyone was surprised!”

I was well aware of how high and pitchy my voice sounded, strained beyond belief as I attempted to argue the point of my previous joke- which in retrospect, now didn’t seem too funny. I swallowed thickly, gaze still flicking between the rest of the group. 

“Are you messing with me?” I asked as soon as the thought popped into my head, unable to make sense of the unexpected situation.

But neither one of them replied, watching one another closely as they silently communicated in that weird couple-ly language of theirs. 

I glanced towards Matty, but he looked just as bewildered as I felt, eyes as wide as saucers, attempting to analyse the newlyweds in a whole other light. 

“You’re fucking pregnant.” He breathed out with an airy sort of laugh full of disbelief, he shook his head. “Fuck me. You are, aren’t you?”

My jaw was hanging somewhere by my feet and I couldn’t quite get ahold of the many- many- emotions I felt. “Oh my god. Oh my god.” I whispered from behind my hand, trembling now.

My sister’s eyes met mine then and, oh wow. The sincerity there was scary. Everything she felt was displayed openly on her face, I could see it all, from her flushed cheeks right down to her teary smile. I swallowed again.

��Surprise?” She announced sheepishly, lifting her tense shoulders up in an odd sort of shrug before she chewed at her lower lip, as though she was terrified of witnessing the rest of my reaction.

But she had utterly no reason to be afraid, because before I could even think better of it, I was barrelling full force into her, arms flung over each of her shoulders so that I could all but sob into the crook of her neck. 

I was vaguely aware of Adam, and his oddly quick reflexes, who had taken the precaution to catch my sister at her waist so that we both didn’t end up toppling over onto the dance floor. A smart man, I noted. My sister had chosen well. 

But when I finally decided to pull away, still keeping her very much at arm’s length, hands grasped on either arm, I did my best not to cry again as I took all of her in. She was glowing. Like, actually glowing. And wow. How hadn’t I noticed it sooner?

“I’m gonna be an aunt.” I rasped out to her, bottom lip quivering threateningly whilst my sister merely laughed at me, wiping her snotty nose as she nodded in confirmation. My eyes drifted between her abdomen and her face, but I had no real words. So I just ended up repeating myself. “An aunt.” I stressed.

“Yeah,” Y/s/n whispered in a hushed giggle, and I was painfully aware of how beautiful she looked in that moment, all dressed up in her wedding gown, all grown up. My baby sister.

“You’re gonna be a mum!” I gasped, the thought only just occurring to me. My hand flew to my mouth again before I could stop myself, and I squealed as I pulled her into another tight hug. She was still tittering away as we rocked back and forth, but I could hear the obvious tears in her voice. Though I was certain they were happy ones. 

And that’s when it hit me, really hit me- I pulled away sharply, only to spin around and slap Adam’s arm.

The groom jumped at the sudden sting, jerking out of the embrace Matty (who was standing bleary-eyed too, I might add) had seemingly wrangled him into.

“Why are you hitting me!” Adam questioned in alarm, chuckling faintly whilst he rubbed at his bicep. Though he still appeared somewhat apprehensive, cowering backwards slightly as though he thought I’d repeat the action. 

Matty cackled joyously, evidently loving the change of pace. He hastily rounded Adam’s taller frame to swat at the man’s cradled hand, eager to get a better look at the injury. 

“Shit man, that was fucking loud!” He declared, practically praising me.

Adam widened his eyes at his unhelpful friend, shook his head, and then pointed his stare back at me. Still thoroughly confused. 

I tipped my own head towards my sister, an eyebrow quirked. “Well, I can’t smack her, can I? She’s pregnant.”

“And why would you want to hit me?” Y/s/n snorted, clearly amused by the events that were playing out. 

Me, on the other hand, I was simply surprised about the fact that we hadn’t conjured up more of a crowd, what with all of our dramatics.

I flicked my scrutinising gaze back towards her. “Because you didn’t tell me.” 

I hit Adam two more times then, aiming for a third before the man hastily jumped back behind my very delighted looking date. 

“Why- didn’t- you tell me!” 

My sister reached out to carefully grab both my hands, cradling them in her own whilst she giggled to herself, gifting her husband an apologetic smile as she steered me away.

“I was going to.” She tried to soothe, looking at me with that soft smile of hers, “But, it was just- a lot, you know? It’s why I wanted today to go so perfectly.”

My chest tightened at the conflicted expression that flickered across her face, and so I wrapped my arms around her again. Unable to do much else. Just wanting her near.

My little sister. A mum. 

“When were you gonna tell me?” I mumbled into her hair, and I felt her shoulders shake against mine when she chuckled. 

“When we got back off our honeymoon.”

I snapped my head backwards to gape at her. “Two weeks! You were gonna make me wait two more weeks?”

“The better question is,” Matty piped up suddenly and I glanced over at him, my forehead still furrowed, ���Am I gonna be godfather?”

Y/s/n scoffed at the exact same time that Adam nodded, and I had to bite back my sudden glee as I stepped away from my sister slightly to rejoin Matty.

The couple begun to bicker back and forth then, and I saw my dates brown eyes start to bat between the pair of them, as though he was watching an intense match of tennis.

“You’re enjoying this way too much.” I pointed out to him under my breath.

Matty shot me a mirthful smirk, hands in his trouser pockets he leant in closer towards me. “Tenner says they name me the baby’s godfather.”

I wasted no time in nodding. If I knew anyone, it was my sister.

“I’ll take that. There isn’t a chance in hell Y/s/n will allow it.”

He rolled his eyes in good jest, that smirk of his still prominent, “Double the odds then.”

I shook my head at him whilst I tutted, pretending to ridicule. “Didn’t know you were such a betting man, Healy.”

Matty shrugged at me casually, “Only when I know I’m going to win.”

I exhaled on a mocking laugh.

“Sorry, what, can you repeat that?” I goaded, “Sounded like a load of bullshit, to me.”

“Yeah, yeah… Think what you like, darling. But in nine months time, when I’m twenty quid richer, you’ll be regretting those words.”

I scoffed at him, “Might buy myself a nice takeaway with my winnings. Celebrate the birth of my godchild.”

Matty hummed through a bubble of laughter, “Hm, nothing quite like welcoming a new life into the world by celebrating with a Chinese.”

I lifted a shoulder, pretending to mull it over. “Never know, could be in a curry kind of mood.”

Matty knocked into me lightly, shaking his head with a smile. And he was set to say something else when my sister and Adam startled us from our own little reverie.

“We’re not deciding this- with you half pissed- on our wedding night, Adam!”

“Oo, someone’s in trouble.” I murmured to Matty who snorted, but it must’ve been loud enough for my sister to have overheard, because she shot a venomous glare in my direction. One which clearly stated I wasn’t being much help.

“But-”

Adam’s argument was too cut short by my sister’s steely stare, and we gifted one another an exasperated sort of look.

“Now,” She sighed, wiping at the folds of her dress to compose herself before she set her sights on both Matty and I. “This-” She held up a hand and circled a finger, referencing to the four of us and the secret we now shared, “Stays between us. Got it? If I hear a word- no, a whisper!- of this before I even have the chance to tell mum, I will castrate you, Healy.”

Matty blundered, mouth gaping slightly. “Me! Why just me? Y/n’s involved too.”

“Oh sure,” I dragged out, unimpressed. “Throw me under the bus, why don’t you? Your date, might I add.”

I was met with an unconcerned stare from my sister and a grin from Matty, I reluctantly quietened down.

“I need a drink.” She exhaled, and I hastily turned to her in dismay.

“You’ve been drinking!” The realisation evident in my voice, “You can’t be drinking!”

Y/s/n rewarded me with quite the expression, one which made me question even myself, before Adam stepped in to offer me an answer.

“It’s mainly been fizzy water, but I had the vendors add a shitload of squash to the bar. She’s been obsessed with it as of recent.”

“Cravings.” My sister added with a shrug.

I dipped my head a few times, but Matty was the one to give a verbal reply, “Right, makes sense as to why Hann’s been following you around with glasses all evening. Thought he was just that whipped, to be fair.”

“Oh, he is.” My sister grinned, very proud to have it announced, whilst her husband simply rolled his eyes at the duo in good nature.

“Poor Ad.” I consoled with an amused pout, “Almost feel bad for hitting you now.”

“Almost? Ta, y/n.” Adam derided, smiling at me.

“Oh, don’t get her bloody started on fucking almost.” Matty huffed and I had to release the sudden bout of laughter that welled up inside me, letting him guide me into his side whilst I chuckled. 

The newlyweds shared a secret look.

But before I could question it, I caught sight of my mother headed towards us. And so with a startled expression, I gripped Matty’s hand, said my hasty goodbyes, and slipped out of view.

“What was all that about?” Matty prompted a little out of breath once I’d finally relaxed, now stood a fair few tables away.

I merely jutted my chin back over to where we just were, where my mum was now talking to my sister, who was trying her hardest not to roll her eyes. “I just don’t know whether I’ll be able to flat out avoid telling her about- you know what.” 

Matty simply laughed at me. “You’re cute. But I think we deserve a proper drink after all that.”

And that was that. I let myself be led astray, hand in his, thankful for the weaving throng of people who allowed me to steel my reaction to his previous words before we made it to the bar. Oh, how the tables had turned.

“We’ll have a couple shots, please mate.”

—

Tipsy Matty was like unlocking a whole new character. One I very much liked. He was full of humour, witty retorts, and best of all, he was rather affectionate. As in, he made it a total mission to stay as close to me as he possibly could, sharing small grazes and touches here and there, and flirting without any real care.

Me? I was just as bad, I supposed.

Thankfully, we’d managed to evade my mum for the rest of the evening, and were now grouped around the main table with Adam and the rest of his groomsmen. My sister was off somewhere galavanting with guests and her many bridesmaids, and I only hoped that my mum was with her. But my alcohol addled brain was beginning to care less and less about being spotted.

“Hann. Hann. Hann.” Matty begun to pester, dragging out the groom’s surname to garner his attention. But Adam was already halfway to hammered and you could see it in the way he lazily swung his head round to face us.

“Eh?”

Matty grinned at him, happy to finally have been noticed, then proceeded to point a finger at his mate. “You know, I never really got on with your bird the first time we met.”

I frowned at his change in topic and swivelled in my chair to better see him. But Matty just continued to nod away, taking another sip of the fruity cocktail Ross had ordered (and hated) before he carried on.

“Uh-huh, you had us meet on that night out years back. And listen, yeah…” He was directing this little speech towards everyone gathered around the table now, waving a hand back and forth carelessly enough to spill some of his drink. “She was in this- I don’t even know, man. Practically out dressed in nowt.”

“Oi,” I nudged him in warning, “That’s my little sister remember.”

But Matty just waved me off, not breaking his stare with Adam as he slung an arm over the back of my chair and all but pulled me into his lap. He was sort of swaying now and I just had to laugh to myself.

“And ‘cause I’d joined you lot later on, yeah?” He barrelled on, wanting to finish the story he’d started- and I could honestly understand why.

Over text, Matty had previously mentioned the reason as to why he hadn’t been asked to be best man, and I could tell that it had bothered him a tad, and so now, more than a little wine drunk, he’d decided to make the best of his current situation, what with everyone having rallied around us, and give his own toast.

“Well, I was semi fuckin’ sober, wasn’t I? Had a few shots before I’d jumped in the cab, but that was it. And she was this annoying sort of drunk.” He drawled flippantly, uncaring for Adam’s wrinkled nose or pursed lips. “All angry. Proper fired up, right? Just screaming and spouting this utter crap. Told everybody you were shagging about. Tryna start a fight about it outside the club.”

He was quick to wet his mouth then with the remnants of his cocktail, and I grabbed him another champagne flute to replace it with when a waiter passed.

“And me, Hann mate, I wasn’t having it.” Matty cut his hand through the air and murmured a quiet ‘Thank you, love’ to me before he sipped again. “So I told her to do one, then went and lit a fag. She didn’t seem to care too much though, still heard her shouting ‘er head off as I wandered away, but it wasn’t long before she came over and joined me. Realised then why you’d liked her so much. That, and she taught me to blow proper rings.”

A snort and a slow clap sounded from beside me and all of our heads darted towards George who was laughing away at Matty.

“Fuckin’ hell, mate, that was a story and a half.” The drummer drawled, “Went from ripping into his missus to telling us how you bonded over a shitty smoke trick.”

Matty merely shrugged, unfazed. “Better than the story of how we met, Georgie.”

George medley grinned back at him, eyes bright. 

That was definitely a story I wanted to hear. But I’d have to leave it for another time. 

“Matty, mate,” Adam then called out, only too loudly to be a whisper, “She proper hated you too.”

Matty made a face as he set his drink down onto the tabletop. “Me?”

Adam nodded at him, “You.”

“I know I’m an acquired taste, love. But, what the fuck did I do to her? She was the one being a massive cunt.”

I elbowed him in the ribs and he pouted up at me in return. “What?”

I raised a brow with a knowing look.

Adam though, he just lifted his shoulders, hardly paying attention. “Called you a prick on the cab ride home when I asked if she’d had a good night, then puked out the window.”

“Rude.” Matty wrinkled his nose in distaste and we all chuckled before everyone started yelling noisily at Ross, who’d somehow managed to spill his beer down his front.

—

All in all, it had been a pretty great day. Even with all the aggravation and pettiness. 

And as I stood, propped against the chapel wall, spliff in hand, I found myself smiling away at the thought of it.

“What’s got your face doing that?” A voice asked, and I glanced over to the man who’d played a big part in it all.

“What- smiling?”

Matty hummed at me, stealing the joint.

We’d managed to escape the last events of the evening in favour of having a smoke outside (many thanks given to George for the weed), and had decided to hide away from the few partygoers who, too, had wandered out into the nippy air.

“Just had a good night, is all.” I shrugged, tilting my head back to stare up at the night sky.

A few stars could be seen. And I realised then that the city truly did it no justice. Out here, so far away from the buildings and the cars and the people, it was so hushed. As though we’d been covered in a thick blanket which muted all the blinding noise and hassle.

Matty hummed again, this time he wore the beginnings of a sly smile. “It was nice. Best one I’ve had in a while, I reckon.”

“Really?” I asked, not quite believing that this outranked the many other nights a rockstar was sure to have had.

But when I looked away from the night sky to turn towards him, I just found him nodding. 

He held up the joint to me then, and instead of taking it, I took a step towards him to stand between his open legs and pressed my mouth to it, lips brushing against his fingers as I inhaled slowly.

His eyes met mine as I did so. They were slightly blown, even from under his heavy lids, but they seemed to darken in that very moment. His adam’s apple bobbed and I withheld a victorious little smile. 

“I’ve been thinking,” Matty started before I swiftly cut him off, unable to help myself.

“Not too hard I hope.”

But he just rolled his eyes at me, and continued on. “About how we won’t have any of this at our wedding.” 

His comment pretty much came from out of nowhere, and it took me by surprise. So much so, that I was just thankful for the simple fact that I didn’t cough up the lungful I’d taken in.

Still, I fought down the urge to outright grin, instead choosing to entertain his musings.

“What, the weed?”

Matty threw his head back lightly to glance up at the sky with a put upon sigh, before his eyes flickered downwards, gifting me a lopsided smile. I felt his hands come to settle on my hips and he tugged me in closer, mindful of the embering joint he still held. 

“No, plenty of weed. Just the chapel and shit. Like that massive fuck-off tent.”

I chuckled under my breath, winding my arms up around his neck. I found myself enjoying the newfound closeness.

Still, I reprimanded him lightly, “Behave, will you.”

Matty merely disregarded the comment, the back of his head pressed against the cold stone wall behind him. “I’m just saying what everyones thinking, sweetheart. Free bar is a shout though, reckon I’ll fork out enough for that.”

Dipping my head downwards to hide my grin, I replied, “Seeing as you’ve been its main occupant tonight, I’ll allow it.”

“Yeah, only ‘cause I’ve been supplying you all evening.” He retaliated, his fingertips ghosting along my back now.

I bit into my lower lip and shook my head. “Always so nasty to me.”

“You love it.” Matty immediately countered and I lifted my gaze up to meet his mirthful eyes.

“What else would you change then?” I found myself asking and I knew he understood what I’d meant when he mulled my question over.

“That tux.” Matty said decisively, “As great as Hann looks, I’d definitely go black on black, you know?”

“Sound pretty sure about it.” I laughed.

He nodded at me wilfully, “Have to be, been thinking about it all day.”

I snorted quietly, “All day? Your best mate’s just gotten married and that’s what you’ve chosen to focus on?”

“Yeah, like I said- been planning ours.” Matty told me, the joint we’d been sharing having long since died out and fallen to the concrete floor. One of his hands trailed up and down my spine now, whilst the other thumbed at the soft material of my dress. “None of this cold British weather crap either. We’ll head off somewhere sunny, get hitched on a sandy beach beside some cliffside, and have a big fuck-off party.”

I let my own fingertips graze the nape of his neck, my gaze lowered. “No DJ though, right?”

Matty chuckled and I felt its rumble vibrate through him. “Alright fine," He easily conceded, "But if there’s no DJ, then we’re definitely getting a magician.”

My forehead wrinkled in confusion as I leaned back in his embrace to question him. “A magician?”

He dipped his chin, confirming it for me. “Yeah, magicians are sick.”

I closed my eyes, unwilling to fight this battle. I had a strange feeling he’d be willing to die on that oddly specific hill.

“Alright,” I relented, because who would it hurt, having a sodding magician at our make-believe wedding? “But then I want George as my maid of honour.”

Matty frowned, reeling away from me at quite the speed, which only proved to accentuate his double chin. I giggled.

“You’ve only just met him.”

“That’s your only argument against it?” I acknowledged in thought before I shrugged a single shoulder, “Besides, I like him. We’ve bonded.”

“When?” Matty exaggerated, his brows pinched.

“Tonight.”

“Yeah… obviously. But when? We’ve been apart for like- two seconds.” Was his conclusion. I just rolled my eyes.

“Don’t get all jealous on me. It’s just something a person feels. And him and I, we’re just floating on the same sort of spiritual plane."

There was a tense silence that passed between us then whilst Matty looked at me in utter bewilderment.

“You’re fucking mad, you.”

“You love it.” I said, mirroring his earlier words.

His head shook whilst he gave a low laugh. “I sort of do. No fucking clue as to why though.”

I smiled, noting how much closer we’d grown. I peered up into his eyes and wondered what he must’ve made of me. If he’d meant it when he said he wanted to see me again after tonight. But before I could make sense of my muddled mind, or act on the impulse to just ask him, Matty surprised me.

His lips were on mine and I found myself kissing him back almost without thought, his fingertips pressed into the curve of my waist whilst I pushed myself up against him. He tasted of smoke and the whiskey chocolate truffles they'd been handing out not too long ago. And I savoured it all, letting myself get lost in it, in him.

It was only when a loud bang exploded in the sky above us did we part, breathing a little laboured as we looked up at the stars which were now clouded by an array of fizzing colours.

“Talk about a spark.” Matty quipped, and when I glanced back down at him, he was already staring straight back at me.

I pressed a thumb to the corner of his swollen mouth and my voice was quiet when I replied, “So cheesy.”

“You love it though.”

And I couldn’t not lean in again, even as I smiled and another round of fireworks erupted high above us.

“I’m not playing with you,” Matty whispered when we finally separated again, nose now brushing at my cheek whilst his forehead rested against mine, “I think that we should give this a proper go.”

I swallowed, eyes dancing back and forth between his own. 

“What, you and me?” I breathed.

“Me and you.”

And then he grinned, this massive sort of grin that squinted his eyes and carved out the rest of his face. In all honesty, I don’t think I ever wanted to look away.

“Alright. Guess we can give it a go.”

--

Epilogue>

Taglist: @real-actual-human-person @wurldisavampire @partoftheairforce @kurdtbean @indierockgirrl

[antiresolution]

trigger warning: This au is based off the godzilla universe (specifically minus one). I focus on the aftermath of graphic disaster scenarios, so I suggest to skip if you're not in the mood!

He stumbles in the second act. 

Prisms of light scatter in Wenhan’s peripherals as he stares down at the stage floor. Red and gold pom poms and strings of glass beads hit against rouged cheeks, gouging out small trails the way careless brushes of fingertips do. The sweat curtaining his skin becomes seamless pearls blending into white face paint. 

The orchestra continues on, drowning out murmurs in the audience. They’re trained to recover from falls and mistakes like any other performer. Punishment from directors and sponsors is always more severe than a split second of humiliation. He could be up and into the next sequence within a heartbeat.

But he’d caught himself on stinging hands and knees. Motionless until the throb of the fall is a numb pulse and his tongue curls dry to the roof of his mouth. Frozen in place as ribbon dancers and masked figures in loose hanfu move around him. The slightest tremor caresses his open palms.

A guttural screech from a violin in the pit raises Wenhan’s head. Stage lights flood his eyes as he searches blindly in the audience. Dancers to his left hit the floor as the stage sways with a thundering crack and shrieks puncture the air from all sides. A layer of white dust rains down against a fleeing crowd, blanketing colorful costumes in splintered fragments. The ceiling above the audience collapses first, throwing up toxic clouds. Wenhan stumbles to his feet as his lungs shudder to breathe, pressing a sleeve to his mouth and nose as he shoves hesitant crew to the emergency exit backstage. 

Wenhan watches as a beam of overhead lights crashes down onto fleeing bodies. Snapped metal groans above from the weight of the collapsed ceiling. Shattered glass pops under his feet as he stumbles back to escape the gush of water from gutted pipes in the walls and stripped live wire. The low whine of twisted metal above ends with a sudden snap. The debris in his throat chokes him more than the pain of his legs pinned beneath steel beams. 

 He stares up at the open sky now painted in smoke and filled with the clamor of emergency sirens. A shaking hand grasps weakly at his shoulder, and he doesn’t recognize the face smeared in blood and dust to his left. A body smashed beneath slates of plaster and metal.

Wenhan stares up at the sky, holding that hand in his until fingers no longer tremble and everything is still. 

-

February 23, 2008

The WPC (West Pacific Coalition) was formally established after an unprecedented attack killed thousands in Shanghai during lunar new year celebrations. This international security effort is recognized by the governing bodies of China, Singapore, Japan, South Korea, Taiwan, Indonesia, and the Philippines. Curated teams of military personnel and emergency responders are deployed based on high risk scenarios regardless of nationality to prevent further loss of human life and destabilization of global society. 

–

Tiles bleed cold underneath knees tucked in front of an empty hole in the wall meant to house a cross. Two weeks ago, the wood had been needed to repair the roof due to a small quake’s aftershocks. Now, no one wanted to make time to properly dress the space for anyone to pray, or mourn, or curse. Rebuilding Busan’s port communities took every willing pair of military hands. Any spare unwilling ones were busy burying the dead or clinging to a warm body, leaving no room to beg God for favors. 

Yet, it’s a quiet space, even if mostly abandoned. Away from shuffling bodies of overworked soldiers and unfamiliar faces.

Taeil stares down at the spray of grey and white now dusting his army fatigues. 

“Does that work?”

The man perched over him reminds Taeil of a bird. Every feature of his is sharp. The way each angle meets the next throws shadows under dark lashes and glaring cheekbones. Simultaneously jarring and soft. The way you wouldn’t expect a row of feathers next to talons. Even the accented Korean on the other man’s tongue feels pointed. Calculated. Almost too precise to be comfortable.

“What…” Before Taeil realizes his reply is more of an exhale than an answer. “--does what work?” 

The other man pauses, but the amused twitch of his lips lingers. He mirrors Taeil’s kneel, leaning a little awkwardly to the left instead of straight. His right leg isn’t fully tucked under his thigh. The way he presses his hands together is enunciated, as if he’s trying to overcompensate for his role in a silent film. He crosses himself, gesturing wordlessly to the sky. 

Stunned silence is the weight on Taeil’s bottom lip as his mouth opens, before the gnashing of teeth beheads words dying to form. His eyes fall on the burning end of the other’s cigarette, as if he’s watching the dying ember of his own annoyance. Taeil exhales through his nose and nods his head at the smoke. “--does that work for you?”

“Only when I don’t have anything better to put in my mouth.”

“Asshole.”

“Close, but it wouldn't be my first choice.”

Taeil starts to stand, tempted to shoulder check the stranger on his way up. Rationality was never his first choice. He was always chastised for emotionally charged decisions during training. Prolonging this conversation would likely end with his fists bruised and both of them bloody. It was the first week in this base. A reputation built on nothing couldn’t be used as leverage, no matter how good he thinks that sharp nose would look broken.

“It was an honest question. Do you ever get what you ask for?”

Curled fists open and close at his sides before he turns towards the door without answering. A much larger figure fills the frame, blocking Taeil’s exit. Dark eyes glance over a familiar wrinkled face. Taeil’s posture goes rigid. He bows his head to the senior officer. 

“Ah, I see you two met.” There’s the threat of a reprimanding edge, though it seems directed at the soldier behind Taeil. “Private Yoo, this is Private Li, a pilot from Shanghai.”

Private Li was now standing as if the casual collapse of limbs on the floor had been snapped upward by a pulled string. He still leans into his left side, as if he can’t wait to drop the salute once no one’s watching. Both men meet eyes, but this time neither of them are smiling. 

“Your new partner.”

–

Wenhan tears away flyers from the front door of the barracks. The images are grainy pixels enlarged sloppily to fit its new frame of cheap computer paper. But the painted features of the subject are clear enough even from a distance. 

“What a waste. You look so pretty, ge–”

Wenhan tosses shreds of paper at the face crinkled with laughter to his left. The mandarin that rolls off his tongue is an effortless shift. 

“Then you can tape it together and jack off later.”

“Shit, hey– hey, hey,” Hong shields his face and steps out of the way of an elbow aimed at his gut. “It wasn’t me. You know who thinks pulling this shit is funny.”

Even if the construction of this military camp had been congested to a rural corner in the city, their barracks only had four bunks. Compared to other soldiers forced to sweat and curse during the summer in a room with 18 other men. 

Wenhan’s busy emptying a shelf of one of his roommates, tossing the best snack wrappers a guaranteed death payroll could buy onto the empty bunk next to it. 

“You met him, right? Did you ask why he was transferred here? What's he like?”

What comes to mind first is the silhouette of a stranger’s back. One man on his knees in an empty room already abandoned by the hands that built it. 

Wenhan blinks. A dimple forms between his brows. He smooths a thumb over his forehead as if it would iron out the mental crease. 

“Ask him yourself.”

Wenhan gains the uncomfortable weight of Hong’s arm across his shoulders and leans away from the warm breath on the back of his ear. Hong doesn’t even whisper, confident in the disguise of their native language. 

“I heard he volunteered for a suicide mission.” 

Wenhan pauses. Considering superiors kept information to themselves until mistakes rose the death toll. It wasn’t so unbelievable they would consider going on the offensive before signs of an attack in the east sea. But Hong was overzealous, often inflating the truth with his desire for grandeur. 

“I also heard he killed someone, so it was either that, or prison time.”

The mandarin comes from neither of the men, but from behind. Fluent as if it flowed from the memory of a native. He shoves his shoulder into Hong, watching the other dramatically collapse as if he’d sniped him. Taeil stands in the open doorway, wearing neither a smile or a frown. Hong still carries enough shame to apologize, while Wenhan feels the corners of his lips curve up. 

Taeil doesn’t seem offended enough to start a fight as he walks further in, prompting Hong to throw an arm around his shoulders and continue rattling off in Mandarin.

“It’s always a suicide mission. Even if it’s true– just makes you stupid like the rest of us.”

Wenhan starts to roll up one hem of his pants as Hong interrogates the other soldier. He presses fingertips into skin, where his kneecap meets the solid metal of his calf, massaging tiny circles into the joint. 

Taeil’s attention lingers on the flash of silver jutting out where one would expect to see flesh. Wenhan could recognize pity in anyone's face. But the look Taeil casts at his prosthetic is devoid of surprise or even embarrassment for having been caught staring. Maybe more like a stranger in a museum. One who could only be voyeur to a past they could never live inside of or understand. Every glance strangely intense despite the impossible distance. 

But without pity.

“Pretty sexy, isn’t it.” Wenhan kicks his heel against the solid concrete floor. “My eyes are up here.”

“I was looking at your third eye.” 

Taeil catches the extra set of blankets Wenhan throws without missing a beat.

–

No one enjoys the nightwatch at Taejongdae. 

Wenhan prefers the weight of briny air on his tongue to the suffocating anticipation of everyone at the military base. He’s empty handed for his shift, with nothing but the weight of a buzzing comm system strapped to his side and the soft glow of the lighthouse glancing over dark waters below. Weapons wouldn’t save anyone on the ground. Time was all they ever had as a counter strike. 

He walks the length of the highest cliff’s paved trail, roped in by steel fences peppered with rust. Other soldiers stationed on the southern tip of the city are wandering shadows in the night. There’s no one close enough to hear him as he hums the beginning of a melancholic note. No one around to complain as his voice rises in volume, competing against the claw of the ocean’s wind and lick of waves against carved rocks. 

Then he’s twisting on his heel, grasping the butterfly knife hidden at his side. Golden light from the silent carousel of the lighthouse spills over Taeil’s face, lighting curious dark eyes and outlining the soft slopes of his cheeks. His open palms face outward to Wenhan in surrender.

“Are you a fucking idiot?”

Taeil steps closer, dropping his hands as he falls into Wenhan’s retreating pace. The only reply is the soft tone of Taeil’s singing, off key and unsure as he repeats the last line of the song Wenhan hadn’t finished. 

“If you can sing like that, why are you out here?”

Wenhan carries on in silence. The lighthouse careens over black sea water. 

“I wasn’t asking god for something.”

He turns back to Taeil. The abrupt stop has them breaths apart. He can see the dark circles pressed under both the man’s eyes. Chapped lips sealed thin. A small mole marks the corner of a tense mouth. 

“I was cursing him, actually. For giving me the grim reaper as a partner.”

The tense curl of Taeil’s mouth softens. The coil of anticipation is gone, as if a switch had been flipped. The entire man’s body relaxes. On the cusp of revealing something more, but pulling back. He sighs like a tired old dog and raises his hands to the heavens. 

It’s not the first time other soldiers warned new recruits about Wenhan’s reputation as an indirect death sentence. Some would even request to transfer before he’d meet them face to face. No one wanted to disprove potential mythology. 

“Idiot.” He barely speaks above the sound of the ocean. But Taeil hears him, kicking up rocks and dust at Wenhan’s heels as they continue up the slope. He sings in broken Mandarin at Wenhan's back.

But his eyes are trained on glints of silver and white bobbing in the black churn. The glow of the lighthouse sculpts the distant shapes into what looks like overturned buoys. He stands still, staring into the sea as if he could will away the sight of dead fish rising to the surface. Taeil calls his name, but the roar of white noise drowns out any thought or instinct. 

His comm device revives with a series of orders in Korean, Mandarin, Tagalog. Sighting along Taejongdae. Prepare for immediate impact. 

Wenhan’s collar digs into his neck as Taeil forces him into a run. White dead bellies of fish are swallowed by a rising dark form. The lighthouse fights to glow around the massive shadow, illuminating pulsing coils of scarred flesh. An aching roar ruptures the air before the tower collapses into a wave of dust and shattered stone. The ground becomes sand beneath their steps seconds after warning alarms fill the air. 

Taeil shoves Wenhan forward with desperate violence as the cliff beneath their steps crumbles. He turns back once his feet meet the solid safety of grass and arms of trees, lunging to grasp at Taeil falling into empty air. Fingers lock around Taeil’s wrist. Wenhan bites into his tongue, tasting the rush of blood and feeling the hot burn of torn muscle as he fights against the other man’s dead weight hanging over the cliff. 

Taeil’s fingernails carve bloody trails down wenhan’s arm as he struggles for a strong grip. His body drags against the ground, slowly inching over the edge.

Not again. 

His arms are shaking, tips of fingers pulsing numb. 

Not again.

[delicatebluebirdruins]

the empty grave reread

Saturday 2nd Nov 2024

I love this opening line and the dread is still there about the Anthony Lockwood gallery

7 the Skull hated being called tame and for good reason

3rd Nov 2024

9 Marissa's funeral proceeding treating her as a queen (they mention it on page 32 lying in state for the 3 days?)

27 "lockwood's presence game me courage"

43 the group commiting the three sins of ghost hunting

47 hello Revenent

50 birds of a feather

60 ghost client whoop (I hope I am always this excited about it)

81 "I think, that we found greater peace and pleasure in each other than in anyone. That was the good news. The bad news? I wasn't quite sure why" hmmm I wonder you were already close already emotionally. Lockwood can be a bit emotionally blind but him icing you out in THB did play a role in your leaving a small one but still. You also walked through the realm of the dead together your bond was fractured many, many times in THB for so many reasons and it was reforged throughout TCS and now of course.

86 and 103 is just me finding new things to add to my revision cards

111 the epitaph on the Lockwood's grave "knowledge sets us free" meaning so many things like the ghosts trapped in the living realm and limbo. the parents in general being killed to prevent knowledge being set free. them revealing the truth to the world about Fittes and Rotwell

114 Hey it's the second empty grave! and this one will stay empty for a long, long time

116 Lockwood telling Lucy about his parents dying will be something Cameron Chapman would shine in

121 "In my experience, graveyards can be used for lots of activities, not just ghost-hunting" what is your experience Skull? (thought when writing this up 10/11/24 calm down Mary Shelly)

130 the history of the ghost they're dealing with is great "Or possibly Luton"

134 Lockwood saying they aren't weak is so funny

138 I love this description for Flo "She liked liquorice, George and Lockwood in a somewhat unclear order"

141 bless Holly's existence "she remained impeccably polite"

142 "if you hung a uniform on a section of concrete pipe leaning against an outhouse wall the result would have possessed more intellectual zip"

157 Lucy mistakenly going after Sarah is so funny because she is the reason the Belle Dame is loose

169 Sweet sister Mary

173 bi Lucy? going with it

186 jealous Lucy protecting Lockwood

189 "It had tried to take Lockwood from me"

+ 190 "intelligience and recognition - and something more than that" i wonder what that is? Lockwood POV please and thank you

+ 199 "I hate trapezes" is there a deleted scene somewhere in Strouds notes of Lucy learning how to use a trapeze?

196 What were his thoughts with who did this? intitally I mean?

205 Poor Adam Bunchurch

209 Barnes I love you very much

214 Barnes warning them is so nice

220 we have a name for our ghost client Dr Neil Clarke

225 I want a jammie dodger now

230 I love the Skull

4th November

245 Possessive Skull "hey, fish-face find your own human"

250 Lockwood wanting to kill Sir Rupert Gale... I'd help. Also I hate how he kind of hinted at something happening to George "not off being naughty in some library again?"

253 God bless Jake the cabbie

266 Lucy is small and full of rage

269 I love Kipps "we might have to duff up a few pensioners" and Holly "there'll be some duffing up going on right now if you don't start filling us in"

282 "We could feel an abyss opening beneath ou feet"

284 I wonder what Dark London is?

296 Lavender acid? at least it smells nice

303 the idea that we may never get this scene Lockwood frozen in the midst of chaos is a crime I may never recover from

307 and there it is the truth of the Problem

317 this world has bazookas?

331 "They're here to be used. And I believe my sister would want use to use her room too. She'd want to help us escape"

335 Ezekiel is a prat

345 Lucy being miffed at Lockwood seemingly enjoying this chaos but the chaos is exposing the truth... Winkman we were so close to a moment here

353 Holly is gay

361 Good Old Esmeralda

363 What was the message George

364 Middle names are fun

372 vengeful chicken lmao but also poor Kipps

385 Oh Skull really? Lucy where would someone who works for Fittes take a Source?

389 Seriously who are you hat man?

391 Why are you doing so well Kipps?

398 Flo backstory! imagine how upset Lucy would be if she learned this in the run to Aickmeres? because Flo was part of a three person agency and she was the last one standing?

409 first sighting of Marissa and Ezekiel

415 the conversation with the Skull is great

420 Poor Kipps (Jack would kill this scene so would Ruby and the others when they go back to our world)

430 Lockwood sacrificing his coat :(

433 sticky fingers George and wolf like smile from Lockwood (in AU we could have these two meet as George is a pickpocket/thief and Lockwood sees him in the act)

437 "they were all stocky and muscular, their shaven heads like small boulders on which rudimentary faces had been drawn" this happens a few times with Lucy the way she see's large groups of "others". (And it will be something I pay attention to next time I reread as I know I am missing some) She describes them as all being from the same mould stripping them of their personhood as they are all caught up in the machine of Fittes (and Rotwell her description of the group selling hot chestnuts in the first book) in this case it works because this group is not a group made up of people it's a group like Winkman's thugs because all they know is following orders without question and I don't know where I'm going with this but something something dehumanisation I guess?

438 "That bloodthirsty young harpy" compliments!

457 Marissa being similar to Belle Dame

466 This is so spooky like the body of Penelope Fittes, her face but also the face of Marissa

474 killing the tension here Skull

Final Day 5th November 2024

480 that was a good summary Lucy

487 I love the Skull protecting them

489 Suck it Ezekiel

490 cat behaviour for sure

501 Lockwood and Lucy going downstairs arm in arm

519 healing Portland Row and themselves

525 what was the doodle

529 a glimmer of green from the Skull and of course the necklace

and there we have it the final book reread I love this book (the ranking would look like TEG/THB closely followed by TCS and then the first two way down in the rankings... I will die on the hill of them being combined was the best thing they could do in a adaptation)

[royhalls]

Heat Tape in PVC Pipe Trick 🚧💧

If your culvert tends to freeze in winter, causing floods when spring comes, here's a handy trick! Insert heat tape inside a PVC pipe and place it in the culvert. When spring arrives and the culvert is frozen, simply plug in the heat tape for a day or two, and you'll have water flowing again! 💡👌 Ideal for preventing driveway or road flooding issues.

[technicallyacook]

Ready-to-use mashed potatoes for your dishes

Mashed potatoes are used in so many wonderful dishes. It can stand out on its own to make things like fried cheese-stuffed potato balls or spicy potato cutlets, or you can use as part of a larger recipe such as aloo paranthas, shepherds pie, or pav bhaji. Sometimes I just feel like experimenting! Potatoes are cheap, delicious, and pretty dang nutritious!

But on some days, I don't feel like going through the whole process of peeling, cutting, boiling, and mashing the potatoes. Here's a great solution: keep mashed potatoes in your freezer!

I like to do this right after I buy my potatoes. I'll buy a 5 pound bag and peel, chop, boil, and mash the whole thing. I divide it into 10 sandwich bags, so each bag is 1/2 pound. Squeeze all the air out, flatten the bag evenly, and freeze the bags in a stack. Once frozen, the flattened bag thaws quickly in hot water! Just 5 minutes and your mashed potatoes are ready to use. It'll keep in your freezer for many months.

The most important thing is to NEVER salt your potatoes or add any other ingredients. Only potatoes. Adding other ingredients risks it becoming soggy when you defrost. And don't overcook!

I also highly recommend using a potato ricer, rather than an old fashioned potato masher. It will keep your potatoes soft and fluffy, not gluey. It also prevents lumps which in most recipes can be an issue. Overworking your potatoes with a masher ruins the texture! This is true whether you freeze it or use it fresh.

I often just thaw the potatoes and mix all the spices inside the bag rather than dirtying a bowl, then scoop it into a hot pan with oil for super fast potato cutlets. Or you can even snip the corner of the bag and pipe it on top of shepherds pie, or right into some hot oil for some fried potato sticks!

[jiayuechen]

Chapter 2 Ambuscade

The turmoil on Breeze didn't cause much of a stir. Local newspapers, seemingly pre-arranged, downplayed the incident, barely scratching the surface without delving deeper.

Viper knew Chamber had mediated with money.

After all, agents’ missions were always secretive, and the appearance of so many deadly toxins in the commercial district should have prompted someone to speak out. The current silence suggested that quite a bit of hush money had been paid.

Despite the accidental spill of the Snakebite poison and despite Viper's inability to find a rational explanation for Chamber and that bastard's negotiations on Breeze. At the end of the day, she acknowledged that she had caused all this trouble herself. Viper decided to express her gratitude to Chamber.

"Sorry," Viper addressed Chamber directly the next day, "special circumstances, thanks for your help."

"No trouble at all, especially for a VIP," Chamber replied with his trademark smile. "As long as I don't blow up the island, those people won't raise any issues."

Viper smiled and left without a word.

"Whenever you're free, let me take you out dancing," Chamber added as she walked away.

"Maybe another time," Viper replied loudly.

Watching Viper's retreating figure, Chamber silently retrieved the expensive action report from his pocket.

Pursuing Viper had indeed been part of the cooperative plan, but this report

— there was absolutely no need to purchase it.

Now he not only bought unnecessary report but also found himself misunderstood by Viper, and he had to personally clean up the mess to prevent her exploitation by others.

What was he doing? Even he wasn't entirely sure.

Chamber knew well that in the eyes of a businessman, and perhaps rightfully so, profit was paramount.

But if life were solely about profit, what would be its meaning?

And yet, if a life driven solely by profit had no meaning, how did he justify his own actions over the years?

Chamber glanced briefly at the sparse mention of Viper's real name on the report cover and returned it to his inner pocket again.

On the other side, the series of missions at Icebox finally reached its conclusion, with Brimstone giving the final briefing to all agents.

"We can finally say goodbye to those annoying zip-lines," Jett yawned, speaking up first.

"What's so bad about zip-lines? Better than being a clown in the yellow box," a grumpy Yoru, just revived by the sage, muttered. "These people are getting smarter. They don't believe anything anymore."

"Maybe because you always go out with that glowing head of yours," Sova joked, adjusting his arrow sights. "You should practice how to throw flashbangs properly."

Yoru remained silent, toying with his katana in hand.

"For this mission at Icebox, Viper will lead the team: Jett, Yoru, Sova, and Chamber," Brimstone commanded briefly. "If there are no issues, you may proceed."

"Sabine..." Chamber seemed to have something to say.

"Did you forget your promise?" Viper promptly interrupted Chamber.

He wisely closed his mouth and silently prepared his gear.

Yoru chuckled quietly on the side, earning a sharp glare from Jett.

"Focus!" Viper commanded firmly.

"Anyone else have questions?" Brimstone asked again.

"No, sir," the five agents replied in unison.

"Fight!" Brimstone ordered.

Icebox is now a perpetual frozen harbor, sprawling in size. It was once used by the Kingdom Corporation for storing and transporting goods, divided into two areas: A Site and B Site. Site A consists of a large, two-story enclosed building originally used for cargo transport, hence equipped with numerous zip-lines allowing agents to navigate throughout the area. B Site, on the other hand, is composed of containers and open structures. Both areas are interconnected by a complex network of pipes and pathways.

In previous missions, agents successfully transferred the Kingdom Corporation's remaining goods. This time, as the final task in the Icebox series, the main objective is to plant the spike in the enclosed structure of Site A, preparing it for demolition to render it completely abandoned.

The mission unfolds smoothly due to the operatives' experience with multiple incursions into combat zones. Sova skillfully launches a recon arrow, its laser nearly detecting all hidden enemies lurking in the shadows. Jett promptly activates Tailwind, soaring to the rear of enemy positions. Chamber uses his Hunter (a Sheriff) to accurately eliminate enemies emerging from the front of Site A. Meanwhile, Yoru dons his mask, stealthily navigating from Area A through to Area B, scouting for hidden enemies.

With enemies cleared from Area A, Viper deploys a Toxic Screen and prepares to install the spike. Agents occupy key chokepoints, rotating to observe potential enemy reinforcements while holding their positions.

However, just as Viper begins to plant the explosive charges, a shadow suddenly teleports behind her.

"Blinding—"

The opposite Omen materializes with a Bucky, poised to end Viper's life.

Hearing the teleportation sound, Viper prepares to stand and grab her weapon, but she sees a man in a golden suit suddenly appear in front of her. Chamber had silently inserted an Anchor Point behind Viper at some unknown time, and upon hearing the sound of Omen landing, he immediately teleported back from the front.

"Plant the spike." Chamber calmly says to Viper.

He holds his exclusive sniper rifle—Tour de Force—in his hands.

With a wolf in front and a tiger behind, Omen ultimately decides to deal with the nearer Chamber first.

"Bang—"

"Boom—"

Gunshots from Tour de Force and Bucky resonate simultaneously, but in such close-quarter combat, Bucky prevails.

Viper turns around and successfully installs the explosive charges, then immediately unleashes her Viper’s Pit.

The Viper’s Pit, a massive toxic fog generated by Viper using the poison-packed backpack, covers the area. Only Viper, wearing a gas mask with goggles that highlight enemies scanned, can see clearly within the fog. Others entering the toxic fog have their vision obscured and their bodies slowly corroded by the poison.

Agents at the chokepoints also return to defend the perimeter around Viper’s Pit. For the other Omen, attempting to single-handedly find and defuse the spike in such an environment is simply an impossible task.

"Blinding—"

He throws a smoke ball and picks up the Vandal from Chamber's body, then teleports away.

"Bang—"

The spike detonate successfully, and Viper survives thanks to Chamber.

She removes her gas mask and approaches Chamber's side.

On that face that had always smiled gently, there was now only paleness.

"Quite daring indeed, willing to sacrifice even your life to gain my trust."

Watching Chamber being carried back to the infirmary by Sage, Viper muttered to herself.

"Viper, are you guys facing any difficulties?" Sage asked in a friendly tone as possible.

"No," Viper replied icily, "Is there a problem?"

Viper's tone was unfriendly; she disliked Sage for complex reasons.

"I understand Yoru, but why would Chamber..."

"This idiot probably thinks he's in a movie," Viper didn't want to explain much to Sage. Leaving behind a cryptic remark, she departed.

Rendezvous, also known as French Displacement, a skill that sounds a bit cowardly, is designed for people like Chamber who value their lives.

Since he can give up his life to achieve his goals, why can't he just state his purpose directly?

Or...?

Viper closed her eyes, envisioning the image of Chamber shaking hands with the man.

Anger.

Pain.

Despair.

It was as if she had experienced decades of suffering in an instant.

Finally pulling herself away from the memories, Viper once again picked up a letter from the stack, using green ink like painting to write a few lines of French on the stationery.

"Since you so desire my trust, I will give it to you. Let's see what you're really up to."

"The Icebox mission concludes successfully. All agents rest for three days." In the operations room, Brimstone didn't elaborate further, issuing orders directly.

"When is the next mission?" Jett asked, munching on snacks.

"Our new agents and Cypher brought valuable intel. It shouldn't be long before we know," Brimstone replied.

"Where's Omen?" Sova looked around.

"Probably caught while trying a fake-out and got busted, then bang," Jett gestured near her temple as if shooting.

Indeed, Yoru, who thought his plan was foolproof, was now lying in Sage's infirmary.

"This guy might as well reserve a permanent bed here," Skye, studying healing techniques as an apprentice, teased.

"Ow ow ow ow ow..." Yoru moaned in bed.

"He's probably going to be here a few more days," Sage sighed.

"Are there such big differences in resilience among agents?" Skye looked puzzled.

"Agents are still human, not unfeeling machines," Sage explained.

Sky glanced at the bed next to Yoru's, where Chamber, also revived by Sage, remained silent, seemingly unperturbed, quietly reading a letter.

Indeed, Chamber hadn't used this brief vacation to rest. Upon waking up, he found the letter left by Viper at his bedside and spent the next morning non-stop on the phone with a credit card that seemed impossible to max out anytime soon.

At noon, Neon, who was often used as a messenger, discontentedly shoved an invitation card adorned with floral script and emitting a cologne-like fragrance under Viper's door.

"I never thought you'd be interested in him," she muttered before sliding away.

Inside her room, Viper tried on her evening gown. She heard Neon's words but didn't respond.

The collaboration between Chamber and his Omega World self was no secret among the Valorant agents. Moreover, the handshake on Breeze that day seemed to hint at his tangled connection with the laboratory assault years ago.

Chamber was a peculiar individual. His entry into the Valorant wasn't exactly welcomed by everyone. Each person here had their reasons for disliking Chamber—whether out of hatred for Omega World and Kingdom Corporation, disdain for businessmen, or complete disappointment upon learning the truth behind the Fracture’s explosion.

Yet, Viper's reasons were different from others. She didn't resent someone choosing to become a businessman. After all, as Omen had once remarked, Viper had used her research to heal people before turning it into something lethal. Dr. Sabine back then and Viper right now—both seemed beyond reproach in their choices, for life is like a chess game where every move is made without regret, and decisions propel one forward.

Having gone through half of the life journey and experienced despair deeper than mere life and death farewells, for Viper, at this point, love and hate held little meaning. What she truly wanted to uncover is what lay beneath the smiling visage of Chamber.

Guns and bullets could only shatter the flesh, but what truly destroys a person is the heart.

Just as on that night years ago, when the flames ignited Dr. Sabine's heart with a desire for revenge—only through betrayal.

As night draped the city, only the stars scattered faint glimmers.

However, the coastal commercial street was unusually lively at this moment, adorned with lights and decorations as if celebrating a festival.

Viper immediately spotted the upscale hotel mentioned in Chamber's invitation amidst the bustling street—it stood out uniquely even in such a festive atmosphere.

"Viper, you're finally here," Chamber beamed, looking entirely unlike someone who had just come back to life. "I thought I'd never see this day in my life."

"It has indeed been a lifetime," Viper replied, half sarcastically, half earnestly. "You saved me back in Icebox, so I owe you thanks. And for what happened on Breeze, thank you for wrapping things up for me."

"No need to be so formal, Sabine..." Chamber tentatively used Viper's real name.

Rather than her usual correction, Viper turned on the nearby phonograph. She paused for a moment, as if making a decision. Then, a slightly old-fashioned smile replaced her cold demeanor.

—— She decided to walk over and embrace Chamber around the waist.

"Vincent, didn't you say you wanted to dance with me?" she said.

Chamber was taken aback, not expecting Viper to approach him so boldly.

Of course, it took him less than a second to realize that such initiative had a purpose.

He took a deep breath, regained his former elegance, and began to twirl around the room to the rhythm of the music.

Viper leaned close to Chamber's ear, her voice still magnetic despite not wearing a mask.

"Near the left corner by the door, there's a Trademark trap, and in the hallway outside, the cloakroom to the right has a Rendezvous anchor point. It seems the French have quite different traditions when it comes to dating," Viper mimicked Chamber's tone.

Rendezvous anchor points are surely used for escape. Trademark, as the name suggests, are intended to temporarily prevent people passing through. It consists of a device with small cameras and ground-laid slow traps. When a camera detects someone passing by, it triggers the trap, slowing down their movement and making it difficult to proceed.

Facing Viper's inquiry, Chamber showed no hint of panic on his face. He scrutinized Viper's beautiful face and calmly replied, "Sabine, has anyone ever told you that your evening gown is quite unique? Turning a gas mask into a beret, mixing snakebite poison vials into emerald decorations, and even hiding a poison mist emitter in embroidered leather gloves... I believe such creativity would fetch a high price in any country."

While Viper’s Pit excelled in widespread defenses, such a large quantity of poison would be difficult to transport and store without a jetpack. In comparison, the poison tube concealed in the glove is just enough to emit a poison mist, forming a spherical haze or wall-shaped curtain in small-scale combat situations, both threatening and easier to use.

Viper adjusted the beret low, the height just right so a light touch on her forehead could cover her mouth and nose. She naturally wrapped her hands around Chamber's neck, the nozzle of the poison mist emitter directly aimed at Chamber.

——At this distance, if Viper were to release the poison mist, Chamber would likely pass out here within three seconds.

Therefore, Chamber wisely held Viper close and used their dance steps to move her into a blind spot where the Trademark couldn't see.

"So, Chamber—what exactly do you intend to do?" Viper asked.

“And Viper dates with me, does she has a feeling for me?” Chamber replied.

Viper spun once to the music, returning to Chamber's embrace.

She lowered her voice, her tone as icy as ever. "How about we make a deal? You tell me your true intentions, and I'll tell you what I truly feel."

Chamber adjusted his glasses and leaned closer to her ear.

"All those rumors are true. I've partnered with the Omega Chamber, to achieve their goals other than the protocol. Pursuing you is part of it. The Hourglass wants to know the secrets you hold, and they've put out a bounty. Also, that day on Breeze, that person gave me clues about the lab attack years ago."

Upon hearing this, Viper displayed a rare smile. She continued the dance gracefully, seemingly unruffled, but her smile grew more pronounced, starting with a bitter twist and ending in a genuine release of laughter from her heart.

"At Breeze, how did you obtain those clues?"

"I bought it. I found the action report for the attack on your lab."

“At what price?”

"Just money."

Chamber turned off the phonograph and led Viper to the couch.

He looked at Viper with a hint of pity, though he knew deep down that much of her current suffering was caused by him.

"As a trade, I'll tell you my true feelings," Viper said calmly. "Vincent, you're an irredeemable fool."

Chamber didn't seem surprised by this response.

"...But I don't dislike you," Viper added playfully.

"Sabine..." Chamber seemed genuinely alarmed by this answer, "You shouldn't have said that, Sabine. Hourglass are still hunting you. If you already knew I had allied with Omega, you shouldn't have admitted any feelings for me."

Chamber looked at Viper in horror, spilling red wine in his panic, leaving faint stains on his satin suit.

Viper glanced disdainfully at Chamber, then got up to fetch a napkin.

"If you knew that at this distance, I could release poison mist and you wouldn't last three seconds, you shouldn't have admitted your alliance with Omega just now," she resumed her cold and calm demeanor, wiping the wine stains off Chamber's suit with the napkin. "Besides, I only said I don't dislike you."

"Haha, you have no idea how many people are lining up to die in your hand." Chamber's panicked expression was replaced by his usual enigmatic smile. "If it’s not you who had asked just now, I wouldn't have admitted it."

"And if it weren't for you, I wouldn't have reveal my true feelings," Viper replied.

Chamber nodded and pulled out an envelope from inside his suit, resembling a love letter, and handed it to Viper.

"This is the action report from back then. It should contain clues to help you find the truth."

Viper took the envelope, outwardly calm but her hands trembling uncontrollably.

"Why did you buy this report for me?"

“What did Dr. Sabine think I should answer?” Chamber seemed to ask knowingly.

Viper looked at him with a scornful expression.

Chamber wisely remained silent, quietly watching Viper open the envelop.

"By the way, keep Omega's matters confidential for me. There are too many people suspecting me now," Chamber said. "I'm afraid before I have a chance to explain, they'll try to eliminate me."

"Why should I promise you?" Viper folded the report casually.

"Because I helped you by buying that report," Chamber replied in a childish tone.

Viper rolled her eyes and cursed, "Idiot!"

However, Chamber couldn't contain his smile.

"Just kidding. I'll tell Omega that today didn't end on good terms, and Dr. Sabine really hates me."

"You knew I would come to talk to you about this today, so you brought the report?" Viper asked.

"I've kept it with me since I got the briefing," Chamber answered. "Sabine, you're the smartest person I've ever met. I believe you'll uncover the truth."

"What about your plan with Omega?"

"I never hoped it would succeed."

Viper nodded, slipping the envelope into a hidden pocket of her evening gown.

"Thank you, Chamber."

"Here's one more thing," Chamber grabbed Viper's arm as she was about to get up. "You got it wrong about the gear. Rendezvous was indeed my doing. But the Trademark, that's not my business."

Viper nodded knowingly and sat back down on the couch.

"What if I step on it?" she asked.

"According to the plan I agreed with Omega, I'd use the hunter to knock you out, take you to my room, and then Omega's people would take you away," Chamber explained.

"How can we avoid triggering the trap, then?"

"Through the window," Chamber said, glancing at the third French window.

"When will Omega's people arrive?"

"About five minutes from now."

"It seems they don't trust you over there either," Viper teased lightly.

Chamber chuckled softly and whispered, "Then I'll need Dr. Sabine to cooperate with me, so let's each find a reason not to use the front door."

He shifted slightly and pulled Viper closer by the waist.

"Are you ready?"

Three.

Two.

One.

Viper struggled with all her might to break free from Chamber's embrace.

Then, she covered her mouth and nose with the beret, shattered the vial of snake bite, and used the spray nozzles on her hands to create a toxin screen. Concealed by the screen, she smashed through the window and slid down the pipe to the ground floor.

Chamber was also prepared; as the toxin going up, he held his breath and teleported to the cloakroom. A few minutes later, he walked out the main door and vanished into the night.

[parama2001]

Mastering the Art of Plumbing: Essential Tips and Tricks for Every Homeowner

Introduction: Plumbing is the circulatory system of your home, quietly working behind the scenes to keep everything flowing smoothly. From the moment you turn on the faucet to the flush of the toilet, plumbing plays a crucial role in our daily lives. However, when plumbing issues arise, they can quickly turn into a homeowner's worst nightmare. But fear not! With the right knowledge and a few handy tips, you can become a plumbing pro in no time.

Understanding Your Plumbing System: Before diving into fixing leaks or unclogging drains, it's essential to have a basic understanding of your home's plumbing system. Typically, plumbing consists of two subsystems: the water supply system and the drainage system. The water supply system brings fresh water into your home, while the drainage system removes wastewater.

Common Plumbing Issues and Solutions:

Leaky Faucets: A dripping faucet may seem like a minor annoyance, but it can waste a significant amount of water over time. Usually, a leaky faucet can be fixed by replacing a worn-out washer or O-ring. Remember to turn off the water supply before attempting any repairs.

Clogged Drains: Whether it's in the kitchen sink, bathroom shower, or toilet, clogged drains are a common plumbing problem. For minor clogs, a plunger or plumbing snake can often do the trick. Avoid using chemical drain cleaners as they can damage your pipes over time.

Running Toilet: A toilet that continues to run after flushing can waste gallons of water and inflate your water bill. In most cases, a running toilet is caused by a faulty flapper or fill valve. Replacing these components is relatively simple and can save you money in the long run.

Low Water Pressure: If your faucets are trickling instead of flowing, low water pressure may be the culprit. Potential causes include mineral buildup in the pipes, a faulty pressure regulator, or a partially closed shut-off valve. Checking these components and cleaning or replacing them as needed can help restore proper water pressure.

Frozen Pipes: During the winter months, exposed pipes are susceptible to freezing, which can lead to burst pipes and costly water damage. Insulating your pipes and keeping your home adequately heated can prevent this issue. If you suspect a frozen pipe, never use an open flame to thaw it—instead, use a hairdryer or heating pad.

DIY Plumbing Tips:

Invest in Quality Tools: A well-equipped toolbox is essential for any DIY plumber. Basic tools like wrenches, pliers, and pipe cutters will come in handy for most plumbing projects.

Know Your Shut-Off Valves: Familiarize yourself with the location of your home's main water shut-off valve, as well as individual shut-off valves for sinks, toilets, and appliances. Knowing how to turn off the water in an emergency can prevent water damage to your home.

Practice Preventative Maintenance: Regularly inspecting your plumbing system for leaks, corrosion, or other signs of damage can help catch potential issues before they escalate into major problems. Additionally, scheduling annual professional inspections can identify hidden issues early on.

Conclusion: While some plumbing tasks may require the expertise of a licensed plumber, many common issues can be resolved with a little DIY know-how. By understanding how your plumbing system works and learning some basic maintenance techniques, you can save time, money, and stress in the long run. So don't let plumbing problems dampen your spirits—empower yourself with knowledge and tackle them head-on!

[mumms-the-word]

Drowning

Day 24 of the BG3 Fic February Challenge

The Iron Throne is one of my favorite encounters in the entire game. And it also happens to be one of my personal biggest nightmares.

I'm sure this place stresses out all of my Tavs/Durges (except for Freyr, who never goes there) but it is particularly stressful for Ardynn, who has a very real fear of the sea in general, let alone being fathoms below the surface in an exploding steel prison. So, er...enjoy?

Check out my masterlist of BG3 fics!

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24. Tav/Durge faces their worst fear

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Ardynn’s eyes widened with horror as she saw the first of the explosions around the Iron Throne detonate in a flurry of magical flame and bubbles. A wave of force slammed into the submersible, rocking it beneath her. She had to scramble to stay on her feet.

“No!” she screamed. “Gortash, stop!”

But Gortash’s image on the blue screen was already gone, his last words taunting her.

When the corpses start to wash up on the shore, remember—you could have prevented all this.

“Gods damn him,” Karlach growled. “We have to save them. Whoever we can. We’re gonna save them right?” She looked to Ardynn, but Ardynn was frozen. “Right?”

“Of course we are,” Wyll said. “And my father. We can’t just leave him down there!”

But Ardynn couldn’t move. She could only stare in horror as more explosions went off.

Most of the roof for the structure below was thick glass, allowing her to see inside as pipes began to burst, releasing thick jets of steam into the corridors. Whole sections of the metal floor cracked under the pressure. Water gushed up from below, rapidly spilling over the hallway floors and slowly starting to fill them. The glass in one section began to crack, stress lines fracturing outward like a spiderweb. It held, but only barely. Any second now it would break and water would rush in as an unstoppable torrent, drowning everyone inside.

It was her worst nightmare. Being trapped below the sea with no way to escape. Trapped in some horrible metal construct, far from sunlight, with little air to breathe. Drowning. Sucking in water instead of air and choking on it, banging her fists against a metal door that would never, ever give, forced to wait for the inevitable, for her death, her lungs screaming for relief, for air, and finding only water and more water, and banging, clawing, pounding desperately on the doors trying to be free—

She felt a heavy hand on her shoulder and jolted at the touch. It was only then that she realized she was breathing in short, shallow breaths, nearly hyperventilating, her head swimming. She turned to find Halsin at her side, his face full of concern and urgency.

“Ardynn,” he said. “Breathe deeply. Remember.”

She gave a shaky nod, remembering how he had taught her to breathe through her anger and pain just a few nights prior. But there was no time. There were hostages down there—Duke Ravengard might even be down there—and they would all die in the minutes it would take for her to catch her breath again.

“Just tell us what to do,” Karlach said. “You don’t have to go down with us.”

“No,” Ardynn said. “No, we all need to go. We need every—every chance we can get.”

She put her hand over Halsin’s on her shoulder, desperately trying to soak in some of his steadiness. He tightened his grip, not even flinching when she in turn dug her nails into the skin that was exposed by his bracers. She didn’t need to look at his face to see that he remained full of concern for her, but there wasn’t time. There wasn’t time. The seconds were ticking by quickly.

“The plan,” she said, even as she trembled, her body resisting every breath inside that blasted submersible. “We go down the ladder. We split up. Save as many people as you can. But give yourself time to make it back.”

It would be difficult for all of them to force themselves to leave anyone behind. Karlach and Wyll, the heroes. Ardynn and Halsin, the caretakers. All of them wanted to save everyone down there. She knew that. 

But gods, she couldn’t—she couldn’t be the last one down there, trapped forever under a pile of steel and rubble a thousand meters below the sea. It didn’t matter that Withers could bring her back. She would never heal from the experience of dying that way. So if she had to leave someone behind...

She hated the idea, but she tried to resolve herself to it. The plan was set. Ardynn sucked in a deep breath and shrugged Halsin’s hand off, heading down the ladder ahead of everyone else.

Silvanus, if you’re listening, she desperately prayed, let me see the sun again. I can die any other way but this, so please, please let me make it back to the surface alive.

———

Every second felt simultaneously like an eternity and a flash as they charged through the metal hallways. Ardynn didn’t know half of what was happening in other parts of the prison, but she heard the sounds of spells, of Karlach’s war cries, of Halsin’s deep voice shouting and directing ex-hostages. She couldn’t focus on them. She was too busy trying to survive.

Not against the sahuagins. Not really. They were viscous and dangerous, but they fell to her arrows just like anything else. No, she was fighting to survive in her own body.

As her boots filled with water and her skin stung from blasts of burning steam, she fought to wrest open levers to prison cells, her strength halved by her fear. She barely heard the words of the Gondians as they stammered their thanks, running past her toward the ladder that lad up into the submersible. The only sounds she could make sense of were the droning alarms of the Iron Throne security system, the rush of water, and the roar of blood in her head. 

Every breath felt precious and dangerous. Her lungs fought against her, seeking more air even as her brain tricked her into thinking shorter breaths were wiser. She felt woozy, but she forced her mind to focus, the sharpen the world around her. Her fingers and toes seemed to tingle and grow numb, but perhaps she was imagining it. She had no time, no time to stop and think about anything her body was doing. She simply forced herself to dash forward, reaching for the next lever, the next arrow, fighting and running on instinct alone.

Ardynn! All hostages free on this side! Heading back now!

She heard Karlach’s voice in her head, connected by the tadpoles. Wyll’s voice soon interjected too.

I’ve freed my father—gods damn Mizora—Omeluum has taken him back to the submersible. Let’s go! 

What about Halsin? Ardynn asked them both, but there was only silence. 

Neither of them knew.

Without a tadpole, Halsin was unable to connect to them telepathically. A newfound fear gripped Ardynn’s chest as she shot another arrow through a sahuagin’s scaly throat. Had he fallen? Was he trapped? Oh gods, oh gods—

She turned and ran back up the metal hallway. There were no more cells to open where she was and half of the Gondians were already ahead of her. She reached the middle room where the ladder stood and cupped her hands around her mouth.

“Halsin!” she shouted, her voice rasping with the force of her shout. “Can you hear me?”

The only response was the droning alarm and the rushing sound of water pouring endlessly into the hallways. She stumbled out of the way of the ladder, turning this way and that, unsure of which corridor to look down. 

She tried desperately to connect to Omeluum, seeking out his mind blindly. Omeluum! Is Halsin with you?

The druid? He is not with us in the submersible. I am with Duke Ulder Ravengard and his son.

The floor beneath her began to rumble with the force of explosions down other hallways, in other locations of the prison. Above her, the glass cracked and shuddered, droplets of water seeping through and raining down around her. Any second now this place would implode in on itself, crushing everyone inside.

“Halsin!” she screamed again, despair clawing at her throat.

“Soldier!” Karlach ran up one of the hallways, a couple of Gondians at her heels. “Come on, come on, let’s go!”

Ardynn let her brush past, stepping around the Gondians to peer down the corridor Karlach had just left. No sign of Halsin. At the far end, a sahuagin clawed through a hole in the floor, its scales glistening in the flashing red lights. Ardynn notched a lightning arrow and aimed for a bit of exposed wiring near the doors. 

Please, Silvanus, please don’t let him be down that corridor!

She let the arrow fly. Lightning skittered across the metal and the doors swung shut, the wheel turning, the bolts sliding home. Locked for good.

“Halsin, where are you?” she shouted again, backing up until her back was against the ladder. There was no one else down any of the open corridors. No Gondians, no companions, only torrents of water, jets of steam, and burning oil.

“I’m here!”

She whirled. There! A shadow in the steam that filled one of the corridors. Halsin emerged carrying an unconscious man over his shoulders, a gnome woman just a few steps behind. Ardynn’s knees nearly buckled with relief to see him.

“Up the ladder, quickly!” She moved out of the way, gesturing for them to hurry up.

“You first,” Halsin said, his voice strained but firm. She opened her mouth to argue, only for a guttural roar behind Halsin to draw her attention. She notched another arrow, gesturing to the ladder with her head.

“I’ll handle the sahuagin. Get up there, now!” She let the arrow fly, shooting past Halsin toward the creature beyond, but the sahuagin dodged with a lithe spin, disappearing briefly into the steam.

Halsin grit his teeth, looking ready to argue, but the gnome woman ignored them both, already halfway up the ladder. Halsin flicked his eyes between Ardynn, the steam filled corridor, and the ladder. After only a second’s hesitation, he adjusted his hold on the unconscious man and began his ascent. Ardynn readied another arrow, her eyes focused on the steam. Just another second, just enough time for Halsin to be a few steps up—

An explosion rocked the floor beneath her, buckling the metal. She cried out as she stumbled, only barely catching herself on the ladder.

“Ardynn!”

Halsin’s voice was far above her now. She cursed and swung onto the ladder steps, taking them two rungs at a time. By the time she had reached the upper room, Halsin was already in the submersible.

“Come on, soldier!”

“Ardynn, quickly! You’re nearly there!”

The voices of her companions spurred her on as she clambered onto the metal grate floor of the upper floor, scrambling on hands and feet to reach the final ladder as the entire world around her shook. The Iron Throne was buckling, cracking, shattering around her, and she was so close—

The glass overhead fractured. Sprays of water showered down over her, pipes rattling, metal screeching, distant rumbles of the building crumpling and exploding growing closer and closer. The metal was slick under her hands and feet as she struggled to stand, to make it to the last ladder leading up into the submersible. She would die here. She would die here. She could scarcely breathe as her hands finally found purchase on the ladder rungs and she hauled herself upward, the crackling of the glass growing louder as she climbed closer toward it. She flinched as a pane cracked, a piece of glass flying toward her, but she kept climbing. 

Halsin was there, kneeling at the opening of the submersible, stretching down an arm toward her. She choked down a sob as she finally made it within reach of his hand, reaching up to grab it. His grip on her water-soaked gloved hand was fierce, almost painful, as he hauled her upward. She heard the glass finally shatter, water rushing in with a roar, as Halsin pulled her through the hatch with all his strength.

They fell back together, her half-crawling and Halsin half-dragging her away from the hatch as Karlach kicked it closed. She held herself up, barely, on hands and knees, coughing and gasping, choking on water and relief and sobs until she thought she would be sick. Halsin knelt at her side, his body shielding her from the others in the submersible as she fought not to collapse. Her vision darkened and brightened in turns and her arms shook beneath her. Every breath was like ice in her lungs, cold relief and piercing pain.

She felt Halsin press his forehead to her temple, his hand on her back, as he whispered to her, “You are safe, now, my heart. Do you hear me? Focus on me. Breathe deeply.”

She clutched blindly at his arm, leaning into him as he curved his body around her, shielding her as she sucked in desperate gulps of air. Her mind could make sense of the fact that she was alive and safe but her body reacted with all the pent up panic and fear and terror that had fueled her every step and action down in the Iron Throne. She was a trembling, gasping mess in Halsin’s arms, but gods—she was alive. She was alive. They were all alive.

“You were amazing, my heart.” 

She had enough energy to laugh weakly at that. She wanted to cry. She wanted to sob in long, loud, wailing sobs that wracked her whole body, but she didn’t have the energy for it. Amazing? She was stupid. She shouldn’t have lingered so long. She could have died. He could have died.

But on this side of the danger, even with the submersible rocking and tilting under the force of the explosions below as the dwarf fought to navigate them free of the blasts, she could feel nothing but blessed relief as her panic slowly subsided. She’d never be so happy to be in a metal construct like the submersible again.

She knew she needed to pull herself together. The submersible wasn’t exactly a private space. All of the Gondians they’d saved were there. Omeluum was there. More importantly, Duke Ravengard was there. And she was shivering in Halsin’s arms like a terrified child, rather than standing as a leader. 

Just a few more seconds, she promised herself, turning her face to press her forehead into Halsin’s chest. She forced herself to breathe deeply on counts of five, as Halsin had taught her, ignoring her surroundings and focusing her world until it consisted only of him and her. She felt his hands rubbing gently but firmly against her back and arms as she leaned into his solid body. Just a few more deep breaths…a few more...a few more...

There. 

She wasn’t back to normal, and she suspected when she had time again to think and process she might just collapse in a flood of tears all over again. But for now, she could breathe and her heart had slowed a little. She tilted her head up to look at Halsin.

“Thank you,” she whispered.

He cradled her face in his hand, studying her quickly with a healer’s gaze before his expression softened. “You did well, Ardynn. My heart.” 

He looked like he wanted to say more, but he pressed his lips together and instead offered her his hand. Together they stood, Halsin having to help her more than she wished, her legs still weak beneath her. But finally, she was able to stand and face the others, just as the submersible steadied into a smooth journey back toward the surface.

Thank you, Oak Father, she prayed silently. But, please, by all the powers of nature, please let this be the last time I ever have to endure that again.