#there were some leaked details that loss and how you cope with it would be a major theme

[lizlives]

I'm almost certain this isn't what they're going to do, at best he'll end up in the hospital or something, but if Tom were to die, just for how it would effect Sonic, it would genuinely make me cry.

Like, I don't even care for Tom's character that much, but specifically for the reason that Tom is just kinda this kind of human stand-in, take them for granted, extremely wholesome character, it would actually be really shocking. It's almost certainly a red-herring of some kind, and it would probably make Shadow irredeemable if it did happen, but idk, can you imagine?

Sonic 3 would be the Mission Impossible 3 of the Sonic movies if it did. A movie following up on two fairly goofy movies that suddenly gets really dark (if only thematically in Sonic 3's case).

[justlvckyviral-archive]

Hey all, so it’s Alex again this time bring you my little angry chihuahua Lucky. It’s been a hot minute since I last wrote him and I’ve made a couple of changes to make him fit the RP’s premise better so I’m still trying to work out a few of the new details. He’s kind of the worst and I hate him already but he’s also one of my all time favourite muses to write so please come love him. Also if you’re looking for angst, look no further since he’s basically a vessel for all of those plots. As always like this post if you want to plot or anything and I’ll come bother you, or just pop up in my IMs or on Discord!

「 LEE MINHYUK, CISMALE, 26, BRING ME THE HORIZON 」┈ did you read that latest viral gossip issue on JIHUN ‘LUCKY’ PARK?  he is the LEAD GUITARIST/BACKING VOCALIST in DAYBREAKER, one of my favorite ALTERNATIVE ROCK groups. they’ve been releasing music for EIGHT YEARS now, but viral gossip has only been talking about them for the last THREE YEARS. get this, i think i heard HE ANONYMOUSLY LEAKS STORIES (INCLUDING OCCASIONAL FAKES) ABOUT HIMSELF TO THE MEDIA IN ORDER TO KEEP HIS BAND RELEVANT. they’re known as the FIREBRAND of the music industry, since they have a rep for being  LOYAL but QUICK TEMPERED, but who knows. maybe that will change once they become #1. 

TW: Alcohol, Addiction, Traffic Accident, Loss of Limb

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I’ve accidentally written a small novel again, so I’m going to split it down into four key sections. Personality, Personal History, Career History and Other. I’ll also just throw a tl;dr at the top because good grief is this a lot. His plots page is here if anyone is interested, so if something catches your eye please come shout at me!

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tl;dr

Kind of antisocial guitarist in a metalcore turned alt-rock band. Raised in the UK. Punk af. Really short fuse that gets him into a lot of trouble. Sees the music industry as a game and knows how to play. Every move and response is calculated. Plays up to the media perception of him as some sort of villain. Doesn’t really trust people, especially if they’re famous. Super jaded, super bitter, super cynical. Rich parents who were never around. developed a drinking problem after being signed. Involved in a serious traffic accident shortly after third albums release that led to the loss of his left leg. parents paid to bury the story. relocated to america and checked himself into a rehab clinic. first album was a flop. second and third better. fourth blew them up. really doesn’t like where the sound is heading for five, but feels like he owes his band mates so is sticking it out. has a three piece side project that is highly political (27club VC: The Fever 333).

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PERSONALITY:

Firstly, and most importantly, Luck doesn’t like you. Lucky has never liked you, and he probably never will. He might respect you, or even be kind of neutral towards you, but never more than that.

There are very few exceptions to that rule, with the main ones being his bandmates and his siblings.

Has some serious self loathing that he’d never actually admit to.

Lucky considers himself a punk, an activist and a musician. In that order.

Has been describes as a journalist’s wet dream and a lawyers nightmare.

Values authenticity above all else. Both his and other peoples. Despises people who are fake (lol irony) and hates it eve more when other people call him fake.

Calling him a sell out or anything along those lines is probably not a good idea.

His first instinct is that people are only trying to get close to him to take advantage of his success and popularity. Probably because he does exactly the same thing to everyone else.

Loyal to a fault. If by some miracle you make it into his inner circle he’d actually take a bullet for you. He’ll always have your back.

The fact that he is so short tempered causes him so many problems? It doesn’t take much to light the fuse, and when he explodes things tend to get messy.

Which means that a lot of people are kind of scared off? And the ones that aren’t are just as volatile as him.

Absolutely no filter. Lucky will tell you exactly what he’s thinking or what he means with no regards for the consequences or your feelings.

Voted most likely to start a fistfight over something dumb five years in a row. Still holds the title.

Comes across as kind of frosty and callous even when he’s trying not to.

Has a serious problem with people taking advantage of others.

He is painted as kind of a villain type character in the media? But like, the villain you love to hate. I don’t know what the international equivalent is, but I’m thinking sort of like Trent Reznor in the 90s?  Kind of plays up to that trope, but he pretty much fits the label without trying.

Does not know what a healthy relationship looks like. Platonic, romantic, even familial: there’s always a catch.

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PERSONAL HISTORY:

Brace yourself for this because my boy has not had a smooth ride.

Jihun was born is Daegu, South Korea but moved to the UK (Specifically Sheffield) before he was old enough to start retaining memories. 

The second eldest child of two property tycoons with more time and concern for their business than their family, he was never close to his parents.

Childhood wasn’t exactly unhappy. His grades were decent enough to get by and having seven siblings meant that he was never without company. Despite hiring staff to watch over them, Lucky kind of grew up fast and felt a sort of almost parental responsibilty

As time went on and their parents became more and more distant from him and his siblings, he slowly grew to resent them.

By the time he reached his teenage years, Jihun began to see exactly how his parents did business. Shady backroom deals. Questionable partners. Bullying or bribing their way out of any trouble. 

They weren’t exactly good people.

He’d become increasingly jaded, bitter and cynical beyond his years and isolated himself from the few friends he had outside of the family.

He was convinced that they were only trying to get close to him because of his family’s money: After seeing how corrupt his parents were he’d lost a lot of faith in most people.

It was around this time that he also discovered his love of punk rock.

The scene in Sheffield was pretty small, but he instantly connected with the anti-establishment values and aesthetics. He threw himself in head first.

It didn’t take long for him to teach himself guitar (Four chords and the truth) and form the band that would go on to become Daybreaker. [See: Career History]

Though things started off well enough. They played shows, eventually got signed to a new small imprint of Universal and began releasing material.

Over the course of several years however, Lucky got himself involved in some pretty serious stuff. What started as casual drink quickly transformed into a cru to help deal with his new found fame. He developed a serious problem with alcohol.

Between the pressures of effectively raising his family, maintaining a career as a full time musician and trying to fit into a scene that was, he now realise, extremely toxic, he struggled to cope.

The sheer catharsis of punk rock had proved to be an effective coping mechanism, but for Lucky it had already reached its limits and so he sought solace elsewhere.

It reached a point where he was having his stomach pumped on a regular basis.

The turning point came one night in November 2014. Lucky was considerably over the blood-alcohol limit, and shouldn’t have been walking let alone driving.

And yet he found himself behind the wheel of their tour van with a member of their road crew in the passenger seat.

They were involved in a serious collision: a head-on crash with an oncoming truck. Frankly neither of them should have survived, but the passenger escaped with a few broken bones.

Jihun wasn’t quite so fortunate. As well as several broken ribs and a skull fracture, his left leg had to be amputated below the knee. With the aid of a prosthetic was eventually able to walk again, but it was the hardest period of his life.

He didn’t talk to anyone for the first three weeks of his recovery. Just sat there expressionless. 

When he’d first come around after the surgery and he was informed of what had happened he was told that he was lucky to be alive, let alone that he would be able to walk again. It was a them that kept resurfacing throughout the recovery process and one that has stuck with him ever since Hence why he goes by Lucky.

Once he was back in the world, something began to bother him. There had been no coverage of the accident despite him being a relatively prominent public figure.

As it turns out, that was his parents doing. They’d paid to get the story buried as well as any and all charges that could have been levelled against him. 

They would later claim that this was for the benefit of his career, but Lucky remained fairly certain it was to keep their names away from the bad press.

Since then his relationship with them has been complicated. He still doesn’t approve of their methods, but they also potentially saved his career. And could ruin it at any moment.

Needless to say it proved quite the sobering experience. Lucky knew that he needed to get clean, and so checked himself into a rehab clinic in LA. This was probably the second most difficult period of his life.

He completed the program and decided to relocate to America permanently. Hollywood was probably not the best place for him, but it was a damn sight better than Sheffield.

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CAREER HISTORY:

And now that all the trauma and angst is out of the way, lets talk about angry music.

Lucky’s first band, RedBtn, were awful. I mean truly terrible. Sure they were only 14 at the time, but the bassist could barely play and the vocalist couldn’t carry a tune in a bucket.

Needless to say they were not together for very long. It was long enough to spark a passion for performance in Lucky, and two years later he went on to form the group later known as Daybreaker.

They were marginally better. Gathering a small following in their hometown, their scrappy, rough around the edges take on metalcore was heavier than most other bands on the market.

Something else that set them aside was their aesthetics. It made them almost like black sheep of the scene. They looked too polished to be accepted by the hardcore kids, but sounded far too aggressive for a more mainstream audience.

This was a pattern that would continue until late into their career. 

Someone saw something in them though, and it didn’t take long before they were signed to  a small imprint of Universal.

Despite having some devoted fans, including Lucky), their first record (A proxy of Count Your Blessings) was almost universally panned. It was a Christmas miracle that they weren't immediately dropped.

By the time the second album (A proxy of Suicide Season) came around they were widely regarded as posers and dismissed by the rock community at large.

It was around this time that Lucky realized that the music industry was one big game, and in order to get anywhere they’d need to learn how to play.

From that moment on every action and potential response was calculated with a ruthless efficiency.

Every friendship, relationship, public appearance, quote, photograph. Everything was optimized to increase their presence and make them more visible.

And so Lucky decided that the best way to get more eyes on them was to cause controversy. As the defacto spokesperson he started showing a more confrontational side to the press, calling out critics and fans alike.

He would leak stories about himself anonymously.

Eventually he would take this characterization t the extreme. He has been pictured in physical altercations as well as the subject of a defamation suit all to keep their brand relevant.

The media began to paint them as villains: a band turning on their own scene with no regard for their peers or their fanbase.

He’d taken complete control of the narrative, and they were eating out of the palm of his hand.

It tended to divide people. You either loved Lucky, or you hated him.

It definitely worked though. The album received (Admittedly still muted) praise and secured their future for at least one ore album cycle.

It was during the production of their third album (A proxy  for the one with the stupidly long title) that Lucky went through his dark phase. The rest of the band remained mostly sober whilst he struggled.

He doesn’t remember much of the recording process and doesn’t really know the songs. If they ever slip one into the setlist, he has to go back and re learn it.

This was also the point in time where his relationship with the press began to sour. Whereas he had previously tried to pull attention towards him, at this point he hated the invasiveness.

They began reporting that he may have had a problem, and he furiously denied it, going so far as to issue take down notices and cease and desist orders.

Of course it only served to boost their infamy, and the album was their first to be widely lauded. They were on their way to major league success.

And then, one night in the middle of a November UK tour, the accident happened.

The tour was cancelled due to a ‘family emergency’ and the band went into a media blackout. Despite his insistence that they simply replace him and carry on, they waited until he had recovered before emerging into the spotlight once more.

After Lucky decided to permanently relocate to the US he was sure that, as much as he’d valued his time with the band, their time together was over. Imagine his shock then, when some of them decided to follow him.

Shortly after completing rehab, Lucky locked himself away in the studio, working on what would later be dubbed the crown jewel of their discography (A proxy for Sempiternal). The album detailed a lot of his struggles in a very coded way.

With lost time to make up for, Lucky returned to the character of the music industry’s cartoon super villain. He once again began leaking stories about himself to the press anonymously, fabricating many of the details.

There were certain topics that remained off limits. The accident. His addiction. His stint in rehab. Anything and everything else was fair game.

The record relaunched them into public consciousness in a bigger way than ever before.

Currently the band are at work on their fifth album (A proxy of That’s The Spirit) which is shaping up to become an even more commercial sounding album.

Lucky isn’t entirely on board. In fact he hates it, and considers it to be selling out their core values. But at the same time, he feels an obligation to see it out. 

His bandmates had risked their careers and stuck their necks on the line for him: who was he to throw that away because a guitar tone isn’t distorted enough

Because of this, Lucky decided to put together a side project. A supergroup of sorts (Although if he were to hear you call it that he’d seriously kick off.). A three piece punk rock band, 27club are a super high energy, extremely political group combining straight up hardcore with rap influences (VC: The Fever 333) [SIDEBAR: If y’all haven’t listened to letlive or The Fever 333 and you like rock music you're missing out. Jason Butler is the best singer of this generation Change my mind.]

Daybreaker will always take priority, but this gives him an outlet for angrier music, as well as a place to air his political leanings outside of interviews.

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OTHER:

Strong sense of social justice and regularly exercises that. Has a tendency of taking his activism a step too far.

Considers himself bisexual, but has never officially labelled it. Has been in public ‘relationships’ with both male and female partners

Has a boat load of tattoo, including the straight edge x’s on the backs of his hands

Vegan.

Rides a motorcycle which he loves more than he would his first born child.

Has three dogs. Two Pomeranians named Rollins and MacKaye, and a Boxer named Atticus

[glitchinthesystemspiderbyte]

[41] Glitch in the System - Running Forward

By E.

A discussion of coping happens.

The blaring sound of an alarm pulled Sombra out of a deep, dreamless sleep into a very confusing and loud reality.

“Widow,” she said, rolling over and blearily smacking at the other woman’s face. “Widow.”

The spider looked at her through her sharp golden eyes. “I am awake, Sombra.”

“Alarm’s going off.”

“Yes,” she replied. “That is what woke me up.”

“Oh,” Sombra said, sitting up and rubbing her eyes. Widow woke up with such clarity, in stark contrast to Sombra who emphatically did not, and it always took her an embarrassing few moments to catch up.

“Gabe?” she yawned, speaking through her internal connection to the Talon network. “Why is everything terrible?”

“Gas leak,” came the response from a voice that was decidedly not Gabriel’s. The soft brogue in Moira’s voice sounded strained, like a wire stretched too tight. “Please exit the building.”

“What did you do, Moira?” Sombra asked, fatigue fleeing her body at the potential of there being an actual threat at hand.

“There was a mishap,” she replied, voice flat. “In the lab.”

“A mishap?”

“Please exit the building, Sombra,” was Moira’s deadpan response, and the connection was broken.

“Explain?” Widowmaker said, already out of bed and getting dressed.

“Get the cat and meet me on the roof,” she said. “Moira broke something.”

It was chilly outside, and Sombra made liberal use of the thermal heating upgrades Widow had installed in her jacket for the holidays. Toulouse seemed fine swaddled in blankets in his carrier, and Widowmaker was the same sentient icicle as always.

“Not cold?” Sombra asked, just to make sure.

“I don’t even feel it,” was Widowmaker’s casual reply. Sombra rolled her eyes, setting Toulouse down in an alcove out of the light breeze before placing herself beside him, cross-legged on the cold stone.

“I wonder what happened?” Widow mused, sniffing at the air. She peered over the edge of the roof to see Akande frantically waving at someone on the inside, and they heard the sounds of windows being opened one by one.

“Probably some horrific experiment. Here’s hoping the building doesn’t blow up,” Sombra groaned.

“Coming to the roof was your idea,” Widowmaker said, crossing her arms.

“Yeah, well, I’ll risk considerable physical injury to avoid having to deal with Moira while she’s flustered.” She patted the space beside her. “C’mere. Check this out,” she said, pulling her hands apart such that long, string-like slivers of light stretched out between her fingertips, flashing purple in the dwindling light. Twisting her fingers, she flipped her hands around, manipulating them like physical objects until she turned the strands of light into what looked like a small, much less detailed replica of the Eiffel Tower.

“Are you playing string games with hard light?” Widowmaker asked, amusement edging her voice.

“Come here,” she said again, gesturing with her head. Widowmaker obliged, sitting down beside her and looking in her direction quizzically.

“Take ‘em,” she said, holding it out.

“Where?” Widow asked, confounded at the request.

Sombra rolled her eyes. The sniper’s occasional befuddlement at the simplest of things was a constant source of amusement for her. “Here. Right in the center,” she said, and four of the strings flashed brightly. “Pinch them.”

Widowmaker, reached out daintily, stopping just short of committing. “These?”

“Didn’t you play string games as a kid?” Sombra asked, laughing.

“I did not play games,” she said, frowning. Leaning forward slowly, she closed her fingers against the light.

“Of course you didn’t,” Sombra sighed. “Now - pull.”

Widowmaker did as she was told, and when she opened her hands, the light created a latticework ladder between her hands. She frowned, holding it above her head, peering beneath the glowing strands as if to locate some trap or mystery she couldn’t see from the top.

“What did you do?” she asked, flexing her hands. The light danced whimsically.

“Nothing, araña. It’s just clever manipulation of patterns.” Leaning forward, she pressed a finger against the center of the lattice. “Boop,” she said, and the light vanished into a shower of painless sparks. “I used to do this for the street kids, before I disappeared. They loved it. Thought I was some sort of magician.”

“It would not be too far from the truth,” Widowmaker replied, watching the remnants of the shattered light waft in the air until it flickered out.

��No magic, only tech,” Sombra replied, shrugging. “Frankly I felt more magical before all the upgrades. Back then was like pulling digital rabbits out of other people's’ hats. Now I’m the hat, and people just kind of give me their rabbits without realizing it.” She didn’t think back on her early years very often, although the memories were still sharp as knives.

“It is strange to think of you entertaining children,” Widow said, leaning back on her elbows and looking at the hacker.

Sombra laughed. “I love kids. Blank slates.”

“You’ve mentioned.”

“Also capable of accepting more than most adults. Kids are malleable, less judgemental, and bounce back faster. Especially kids who’ve seen some shit.” She shrugged. “I guess I empathize with that flexibility. I had to embrace it a lot myself.”

Widowmaker looked away, those golden eyes intense as always as she stared into space at some unknown point on the horizon. “You do not speak much about your childhood.”

“There’s not much to know”

“I find that unlikely.” Widowmaker paused, and Sombra could tell there was a knot of words sticking in her throat that she was doing her best to untangle before speaking them. “It is just that there is this large blank spot that I do not know about you.” She turned her head, her expression neutral, positing a request Sombra hadn’t prepared herself for. “I would like to, perhaps.”

“Oh,” Sombra replied, the lighthearted nature of their rooftop getaway fizzling like dust in a breeze before her. “It’s a common enough story: young girl watches parents be murdered by rogue omnics, survives with a wild band of other orphans until city gang notes her talents and takes her in.” She held her hands up as though displaying a billboard. “You know - the usual stuff.”

Widowmaker chuckled lightly. “There is nothing normal about you, cherie,” she said, kissing the top of her head.

“You’re so sweet,” Sombra said, grinning back.

“Do you, ah,” Widow continued, stretching her legs out restlessly before her, “remember your parents?”

Sombra tilted her head slightly. “Of course. In vivid detail. My mother used to sing me lullabies to help me sleep. I always had trouble, you know - too many thoughts, not enough time to get them out during the day.” Laughing, she pressed herself closer to Widowmaker, nuzzling her cheek into her shoulder. “Sometimes I wonder if she’d be proud of who I’ve become.”

Widowmaker looked at her expectantly, not offering an opinion in the matter.

“Probably not,” Sombra eventually followed up on her own. “She was terrified of technology. Ironic, really, considering how she and dad died.” She felt her voice falter a bit as she spoke, a wave of unexpected emotion pressing against her throat unbidden.

“You sound as though you miss them,” the sniper said, sounding a trifle awkward as she picked her words.

Sombra shrugged. “Of course I miss them. I - their death stayed with me for so long. Weighed on me like a lead blanket; kept me warm on cold nights spent huddled on the streets with the other orphans. We’d all lost so much, you know?” She looked up at the sky, the sun shining out from behind a cloud, basking them in its warmth even as the air around them was chilled. “Some of us let it destroy us,” she said, running a hand idly through her hair.  “A lot of my friends just sort of dried up slowly.”

“Not you, though,” Widow said, brushing her fingertips lightly against the back of Sombra’s arm.

Sombra shrugged a shoulder. “I guess I just figured, if my life was going to be destroyed, then I wanted to rebuild it how I wanted. I needed something to control, and the only thing I really could reliably was myself. I let the loss drive me; push me forward until I was running.”

Reaching over, she undid the lock from Toulouse’s carrier. Widow made a halfhearted attempt at stopping her, but the big tom pushed his way out of the crate and directly into Sombra’s lap with little resistance. Sombra ran her hand along his fur, feeling the comforting rumble of his chest against her palm. “At first it felt a lot like I was running away from the past, but at some point I realized I’d started running towards the future.” It was a thing she’d not given much thought to over the years, but as soon as the words were out of her mouth, she realized how true it was.. “I guess I haven’t really stopped running yet.”

“I am...sorry,” Widow said, reaching a tentative hand out to comfort her. Sombra felt her palm settle between her shoulder blades and smiled.

“It’s not a big deal. I like being in motion.”

Widowmaker stared at her, struggling with something. “You do not seem to be a creature of struggle,” she said, then blanched slightly. “I did not mean that as...I do not mean to dismiss your experiences.” She pursed her lips, eyes narrowed as she sought out the proper words for what she was trying to say. Sombra waited, patient as ever, for her to settle on them. “I just mean that you do not wear your trauma. Not the way Gabriel and...I do.”

Sombra looked curiously up at Widow, seeing her in a new sort of light. She’d always struggled to understand how Widowmaker couldn’t use her experiences as fuel to push herself forward, to forge a way for herself in the world despite her pain. Now she considered that, while she’d started running to cope, Widowmaker had simply stood still.

“I wear it everyday, Widow. My trauma shaped me, sure - they’re experiences that made me who I am today. But I’m not my trauma, you know?” she said. “I was just there for it; I grew from it. It will always be a part of who I am, but,” she considered her words carefully for a long time. “But it informs who I am, not the other way around.”

“How do you reconcile your loss?” Widow asked, pointedly, and through the veil of some muted agony. “To press onward despite all that was done to you?”

Sombra frowned, thoughtfully, letting her mind wander back to some of the memories she had held onto over the years. “I had a cat, once, when I was very young. My father got him for me as a birthday present.” She reached down and scratched behind Toulouse’s ears, smiling as he pressed his head against her palm. “I loved that cat more than anything else in my life. More than my computer, more than my friends, hell,” she looked up, “more than my parents sometimes, it felt like.”

“The start to this story makes me very nervous,” Widowmaker said, using one finger to scritch Toulouse under his chin. He purred louder and lifted his chin up, eyes closed.

Sombra smirked. “A year after I got him, he escaped the house and got hit by a car, right in front of my eyes. I was a wreck - inconsolable for days after. I wouldn’t let anyone in my room and I barely ate.”

Widowmaker squeezed her hand underneath Toulouse’s rumbling belly. “What happened?” she asked gently.

“Well, eventually I’d cried myself into silence, and stopped treating my parents like the bad guys. My dad came in with my favorite meal -”

“- sugary cereal?” Widowmaker interjected.

“Tamales, jerk,” Sombra laughed, bumping against her with her shoulder. “He brought me fresh tamales, set them down next to me, and said ‘Olivia, you will miss Manzanita for the rest of your life,’ and I looked at him like he was crazy until he continued. ‘But love is what gives loss its sting, which means that you will always have that love for him, too.’” Chuckling to herself, she shook her head. “I think that’s what really got me through it all, you know? The knowledge that, while I have lost more than most, it also means that I have loved more than most.”

Widowmaker watched her, mired in a deep silence that lasted well over a minute. Sombra couldn’t imagine what it was she was thinking - when it came to emotions, Widowmaker was either a fountain of confusion or a tight-lipped vault. Right now, though, she mostly seemed thoughtful, contemplative and, perhaps, a little sad.

“I am happy you had that solace,” she said, finally, raising a hand to brush her knuckles against Sombra’s cheek. “And I am pleased at the woman you have become.”

“Thanks spider,” she replied, grinning like an idiot.

“I do have to ask you something, though.”

“Shoot.”

Taking a deep breath, Widowmaker closed her eyes for one long, exasperated moment. “You named your cat Little Apple?”

Sombra laughed, shoving her playfully, interrupting Toulouse’s snooze. “Jerk,” she said. “Now hug me, I made myself sad.”

“I am here, cherie,” the sniper murmured against her ear, wrapping her arms around her and the black and white ball of fur in her lap. Listening to the occasional loud outburst from the yard below, they settled for a quiet afternoon of watching the clouds pass by until the mansion was ready for them to return.

*Read from the beginning or check out our intro post! All stories tagged under #glitchfic. Table of contents located here.

[judememories]

#001 CHARACTER SHEET:

Full Name: Jude Bellamy Hayward Meaning of Name: Jude means ‘praise’ in Hebrew and was chosen by his parents as an ironic joke about the fact that they’re adamantly Atheist.  Nickname: Judas. Birth Date: November 29th, 1994. Astrological Sign and Details: Sagittarius. Known as the most independent and flighty of the star signs, as well as being philosophically geared. Birth Place: Saint Francis Memorial Hospital, San Francisco. Age: 23.

Nationality: American. Race: White. Hair Color: Brown. Hair Style: Short, messy, always in his eyes or mussed up.  Distinct Features of Face: Full lips and prominently defined jawline.  Glasses or Contacts: Wears glasses when he’s reading, in spite of the fact that he despises them. They’re old fashioned and vintage looking to keep up his Indie Soft Boy aesthetic.  Eye Color: Hazel. Skin Tone: Fair. Scars or Distinguishing Marks: A thin scar, predominantly hidden, that laces through his left eyebrow from an ill healed split he got there when he was fifteen. He got into a fight with a boy being pushy to a drunk girl at a party and since he was much bigger than Jude, it was a quick and ugly loss. He ended up having his head smacked into a kitchen sink and needing stitches. He also has a cigarette burn on his arm from when a drunken poet laureate staying at his parents place disagreed with Jude’s take on his recently published anthology. Jude had to go and knock on the neighbouring apartment door in the building and sleep on a pull out sofa because he was too scared to stay at home alone again with him around when he’d been drinking. Disabilities: None. Build or Body Type: Broad shoulders, somewhat gangly. He has subtly defined muscles in his arms from years of playing guitar but nothing too obnoxious or over the top. Height: 6″1′. Weight: 170 lbs. Speech Patterns: Talks reasonably slowly, mostly as a result of being high and sleep deprived a lot of the time, therefore it takes him a while to string his thoughts together.  Tag Words: Says “uh” and “you know” a lot. Also refers to most people, gender irrelevant, as “man” or “handsome”.  Gestures: Rubs at his jaw a lot when he’s sketching or trying to think of something. He also frequently nods and chews at the corner of his thumbnail.

FAMILY AND CHILDHOOD

Mother: Bethany Hayward. Father: Jack Hayward. Mother’s Occupation: Trust fund baby, currently co-owns an art gallery with her husband that she travels the world to buy pieces for. Father’s Occupation: Amateur photographer. He used to be a bartender to support his art and has had four collections of his photos showcased in popular galleries. Ever since he met and fell in love with Bethany, he gave up working as a bartender and pursued the arts full time, opening up a gallery using her parents money.  Family Finances: Reasonably wealthy but not in the millions by any means. Brothers: None. Sisters: None. Other Close Family: Jude has a handful of cousins he knows only vaguely, although he’s actually close with Elias Elliot. Best Friend: Teddy Lawrence. Other Friends: Blake Knox, Ophelia Knox, Gabe Leitner, Frankie Vigo, Wesley Costa, Imogen Bauer, Anastasia Costa, Jesse Harmon, Lana Jameson. Enemies: None. Pets: None. Home Life During Childhood: Jude was always treated like a distant acquaintance growing up rather than a child. His parents would leave him for weeks on end to live in their loft apartment alone, surrounded by numerous mid thirties adults all smoking pot and using the place as a glorified sort of squatter den. He grew up seeing and hearing things that no child should particularly have to, always walking in on drunken hook-ups and hearing lewd and suggestive comments that made him feel uncomfortable. He gets on with his parents in the respect that he can always make them laugh and vice versa, but they don’t particularly care about what he gets up to or how he’s doing. He’s merely a conversational piece and a tick off a checklist, a failed science experiment that they long since grew bored of. What Did His, Her or Their Bedroom Look Like: Mostly bare. Jude was too paranoid to keep anything of sentimental value in his room because of how many strangers were always sleeping in his loft and nosing around in there. He had a few sketches tacked up onto the wall above his bed with scotch tape and a lock box beneath it that he kept his actual valuables in. Very minimal. Very impersonal. To Jude, his house had never once looked or felt like a home. Any Sports or Clubs: He used to be on a baseball team until he got drunk one night and was spotted using his bat to beat up a dingy Volkswagen parked just off school campus belonging to one of his parent’s friends. She was actually a teacher’s assistant at the school and therefore they took it extremely seriously. He got pulled from the team and put in detention for six weeks. Nobody ever asked why he did it. Schooling: He went to high school in downtown San Francisco before moving to New York in order to pursue his higher education. Favorite Subject: A tie between art and music. Popular or Loner: Unwillingly and begrudgingly popular. He tries his best to shake people and can never seem to manage it. Important Experiences or Events: The second time he had sex, it was with his girlfriend of the time at sixteen. He only got maybe two minutes through until he started having an anxiety attack, something that he still finds hideously embarrassing to recall, even to this day. She’d insisted that it was fine, that she didn’t mind and he’d blamed it on the fact that he’d smoked two joints prior to it and it had triggered some sort of weird reaction. The fact that there might still be some sort of underlying issue and baggage there from his first time dare’n't even cross his mind.   Health Problems: Anxiety, insomnia and severe depression.  Religion and beliefs: Atheist.

PERSONAL

Bad Habits: Smoking weed instead of coping with his problems in a healthy and rational manner, repressing things rather than confronting them, trying to save everyone. Good Habits: Writing out odd snippets of poem lines on napkins when he’s bored in restaurants and leaving them for the waiters to find and blink at in confusion, keeping a secret sketchbook where he draws the profiles of all his favourite people, investing his all into people in spite of how many times he’s been hurt before. Best Characteristic: His dry and sometimes absurd sense of humour. Worst Characteristic: His proneness to acting pretentious or condescending when someone has different interests to his. Worst Memory: At a small party when he was sixteen, they decided to go around in a circle and play truth or dare. He chose truth and everyone waited with baited breath for someone to cook up the kind of question that would get even Jude Hayward, master of playing it cool, squirming with embarrassment. “Are you a virgin? If not, how’d you lose it?” A dozen crinkle cornered eyes had all curiously blinked back at him mid broad grins as he offered a limp shrug, face glazed over with something that looked like an oddly forced attempt at pride. It was only after he’d told them and the room had fallen quiet that he realised it perhaps wasn’t quite something to be proud of, but for parents to anxiously whisper in the corner over and worriedly shake their heads. The fact that it had been with his mother’s best friend while she was out of town had never truly struck him as strange until he saw the dawning horror on all of those faces staring back at him. Needless to say, he never went to one of their parties or mentioned it to anyone ever again. Best Memory: The old lady down the hall from his parent’s loft used to make homemade cherry pie and cut him a slither to eat after school. One sun soaked afternoon they sat in front of her dingy television set, chomping silently during a leaked new episode of Mad Men, and when she ruffled his hair after he finished in a record breaking five minutes, he found himself pretending and believing for those set few seconds that she was actually his family. Proud of: His artwork. Embarrassed by: Ever speaking honestly about his emotions. Driving Style: Fairly regulation. Bumps up onto the sidewalk a lot, chuckles under his breath and calmly recites the Harry Potter floating head that says “it’s gonna be a bumpy ride” in a Jamaican accent. Strong Points: Charismatic, witty, laid-back, easygoing, independent and undemanding.  Temperament: Fairly neutral unless you give him reason not to be. Weakness: People that seem just as sad and lonely as he is deep down. Fears: Being left alone in a room with strangers, eating bad chicken and getting salmonella, heights. Phobias: Moths and horses.  Secrets: How bad his relationship with his parents actually is. How he lost his virginity. Regrets: Not trying harder to grow into someone his parents would find interesting enough to stay. Feels Vulnerable When: People notice how often he pretends to be something he isn’t. Pet Peeves: Chart music, chino pants, modern art. Sexuality: Heterosexual. He tried to experiment once and just couldn’t get into it. Exercise Routine: None in particular.  Day or Night Person: Night. Introvert or Extrovert: Introvert. Optimist or Pessimist: Pessimist.

LIKES AND PREFERENCES

Music: Indie rock, mod rock -- any shade of rock, really. He loves The Smiths and any kind of broody sad boy music, too. Books: Anything classic and old, he loves. He’s a huge Kerouac fan as well as Kurt Vonnegut and Chuck Palahniuk. Foods: Hates to admit it but he loves Chipotle. He also loves sushi and any kind of noodle soup. Drinks: He tends to mainly drink beer or cider but most of the time at parties he’ll just drink whatever someone gives to him. He isn’t fussy. Animals: Doesn’t care much about any of them. He’s pretty neutral. Sports: N/A. Social Issues: Democrat. Walked in the women’s march and got black out drunk before waking up on a public bench with a pair of bachelorette party antlers where they’re dick themed instead of deer. Favorite Saying: “In the land of gods and monsters I was a fella. Lookin’ to just hang out.”   Color: Blue. Clothing: Wears a lot of thrifted shirts over thin white t-shirts. Dr. Martens and cuffed jeans. Almost always has some sort of charcoal smudge on his sleeve. Band t-shirts and t-shirts with a scan of obscure and unknown artworks also feature heavily in his wardrobe. Games: Once he played Red Dead Redemption for three days straight and the first time he tried mushrooms, he hallucinated that he was riding along on a donkey besides a river with a strand of wheat chewed in his mouth like a lone ranger on the run from the law. In reality he was just sat on a swing at the local park.  Websites: Vine and PornHub. TV Shows: Breaking Bad and Mad Men. Movies: American Beauty and Trainspotting. Greatest Want: To flee civilisation and abandon his responsibilities by moving to a remote goat farm in Cambodia. Greatest Need: Therapy.

LIFESTYLE

Home: Currently lives in college dormitories. Household furnishings: Very minimal. Pinstriped duvet and an obnoxiously bright desk lamp for when he wants to do his sketches there. He has stacks of lined up, overflowing sketchbooks by the wall beneath his window and he’s plonked a cushion onto the sill so he can sit there and draw while he smokes some mornings. That aside, the only other stand out piece of furniture is his acoustic guitar.  Favorite Possession: His oil paints. They were a departing gift from his elderly neighbour before he moved to Rochester. She saved up for months to afford them and they mean a great deal to him, sentimentally. Significant Other Before: He’s had three ex-girlfriends. His first meant a lot to him and he was head-over-heels in love with her, but the second was more of a fling to get over the one before her. His most recent was Saskia Cohen, who he still hasn’t managed to get over just yet, particularly so given that she cheated on him and the breakup was hideously messy. Children: N/A. Relationship with Family: He texts them every so often and receives an updated photo from their travels. It’s very impersonal and more like having a long distance pen pal than a family. Car: None. Pets: None. Career: Student. Salary: N/A. Other Income: N/A. Dream Career: Photographic journalist. Love Life: A board certified mess. Sexual Turn Ons: Dirty talk that is subtle and not over-the-top, prolonged foreplay, confidence. Sexual Turn Offs: Pushiness, foot fetishists, people who try too hard to sound appealing. Hobbies: Drawing, reading up on philosophical theory, collecting dollar store vinyls from thrift shops, practising his guitar, writing short stories and poems that he deletes after reading them back. Guilty Pleasure: Watching Spanish soap operas and making up what they’re saying as he goes along. Almost always occurs when he’s hideously high. Talents or Skills: Drawing, photography, playing guitar. Intelligence Level: Jude has an impressively high IQ, although this isn’t something he ever boasts about or makes a point of asserting.

[sweet-hypocrisy]

I Need to Use This More

Going back and rereading some of these posts have been interesting. 

2018 was a bit of an eye opener for me. I learned that hell, I do actually have BPD. Ironic, considering I wrote a post bitching about how my mother tried to label me as such to absolve any responsibility for her shit ability to be an emotionally nurturing parenting. Kicker: I have BPD because of my parents. However, they’re not going to fix me. I need to let go of my anger toward them. My resentment. They’re never going to accept responsibility. My mom will make comments at times. Like when I went over there and broke down in a moment of weakness and went to her freaking out when I found the diagnosis. She told me she knows she’s not the greatest mother and she wasn’t very friendly and warm. She blamed her own childhood. Which from the bits and pieces I’ve gathered over 30 years, I don’t disagree. But it’s always felt more of an opportunity for me to comfort her for her parenting. I wonder if I do the same thing.

I’ve been struggling to cope with the fact that I more than likely have a personality disorder. Mainly, the stigma attached to it. There are times where I go on places like the BPD subreddit, hear how awful Lina is with her BPD, and think that’s not me. No, it is. I have just learned to internalize more and have gotten consequences for not doing so.

I seek validation too often, and I often feel like I manipulate or guilt trip to get that. I feel like an emotional abuser. I cling too hard. People don’t know it, but I make everyone responsible for my mood. Or I blame people for my mood. I’m responsible for that. Nobody else. I can’t control my unstable emotions. My emotions change at the drop of a hat. Yesterday I woke up feeling refreshed, motivated, ready. I organized the house. Took Fiona on a 3 mile walk. Felt accomplished. Then the toilet started leaking all over, into the basement. And I spiralled. So far this morning I have cried twice over minor inconveniences and I just feel so alone and angry. So far for that this morning I have blamed my best friend and husband. Why? Because the composter I was promised would be built is still not (we’ve been busy, had house guests for a week, and I can also build it my fucking self), and is now missing parts and it feels like the responsibility to return and fix my own Christmas gift is on me. Which, I guess it should be. He just bought it. Why does he have to do everything for it? My best friend is texting me to vent about her roommate/best friend she likely has replaced me with, mentioned wanting to plan a surprise party for him. I already feel replaced, and I’m feeling the huge pangs of loss, jealousy. Because she hasn’t done that for me ever (granted, I don’t think I’ve done it for her, either). I do now remember her getting a “surprise” dinner together with Dan when I left Petsmart. She does send me occasional surprise gifts and cards. I need to remember that. My original statement wasn’t fair to make. Again, with assuming the worst of people.  I guess my feelings are coming from feeling distanced from her. Literally, and figuratively. She moved just far enough away to deter the will to drive to and from each other as much as we used to. She started a new job (which she loves, which makes me happy) where she works nights and weekends, which directly conflicts with mine. So that’s two strikes against us. Yet, I spent 12 days off texting her every day over Christmas break and only managed to spend an hour with her. I feel like I make the effort far more than she does. I’m not sure if she does that with everyone, or if it’s just me. I always ask to hang out. I often text her first. Part of me worries she is depressed. She promises me she’s fine. I asked her if there was something wrong with us. She promises we’re fine. Yet, why don’t I believe her? Is it because there is something there, of is it my fucking fear of abandonment? We also have way different...lifestyles, I guess. Well, kind of. As much as she stays in bed and goes to bed at 9pm as I do, she also goes clubbing and bar hopping until 4am. That shit is so far in my past, with the exception of maybe a few nights a year. I’m sure for the most part, all of her other friends would find me incredibly grandma-like and lame. Which is probably fair, lol.

Anyway, back to this toilet situation that somehow ruins my life. My fucked up thought process: blame my husband..sort of. More his job, which he chooses to be employed at. He was supposed to be home Friday. So..somehow the toilet leaking Saturday night is his fault. Like he deliberately made it leak for me to deal with. Of course not. But I tried to find help. Nobody around willing to help. To be fair, he did video chat me and we found the solution, just don’t have the parts to do it. Reality: I’m frustrated with the fact that these things tend to happen when I am alone and I hate feeling out of control by the fact that I do not have the knowledge and skills to fix it myself. So it comes out as anger. It comes out as anger when I feel upset by the fact that I don’t feel like I can depend on people to come help me. Dan’s dad is up North (not that I’m angry at him about it). Jason said he’d come over today, and while he doesn’t often flake in situations like this, he does flake on other things just enough for the seed of doubt to be planted. At the same time I feel guilty he was asked, because I feel like this family treats him as the bitch and errand boy and I feel bad. I literally never ask my parents to help me with a Goddamn thing, and I’m not sure what to expect when they said they’d be over at “some point” to help me. Dan being gone automatically made everything his fault. He is my scapegoat. It’s not fair, and I feel like a terrible wife. When I realize I’m doing this, all I want to do is throw myself off of a bridge. He tried helping me from where he was. Why isn’t that good enough? Like..the only acceptable thing would have been to drop everything, hop on a plane, and come home in 5 minutes and just fix it. That’s not realistic. It’s not even reasonable. He called his dad. He called Jason. He video chatted me. He showed me what to do. Why wasn’t that enough at the time? I remember telling him how it wasn’t fair because there is NEVER a time where he physically was stuck doing something and I wasn’t there to support him. Maybe I’m still resentful because of the miscarriage. Driving myself to the emergency room. Sitting in a room by myself as they delivered the news that I was no longer pregnant when I didn’t even know I was to begin with. When they told me, alone, that our child was estimated 6-8 weeks based on hormone levels and tissue they found remaining in ultrasound. The horrible procedure of removing what was left. Coming home and being stuck wearing diaper pads while I bled. I know it was hard on him. I know he wanted to be there. But he wasn’t. I need to let it go. It’s just made me more afraid to be here alone. What next huge thing is he going to have to miss? He is always here for me. He’s a phone call away. A text away. But he can’t always answer his phone. I just..want him to stay the fuck home. I don’t care if we are stuck in this house for the rest of our lives and he takes a huge pay cut. I can’t take it anymore. I think it’s the one thing that’s going to break us, if there is one. That or my psychotic being will become too much for him. Surprise it hasn’t yet. Maybe it is. Maybe I’ll be the very last to know. I don’t know. 

I get so resentful and frustrated when he’s gone. Naturally I have to take on more of the burden when he’s home. All of the cleaning, cooking, appointments, caring for the pets, any minor inconvenience is on me. And I make it all his fault. Like he personally fucking enjoys staying in a shitty hotel room away from home while his wife does everything. He tells me he wouldn’t care if I literally did nothing and he came home to a sink full of dishes. Maybe I do it all because I know I’d be fucking irritated if I came home from a 2 week business trip to a total fucking mess waiting for me (and truthfully feel like I would come home to. Not sure if it’s accounting for my husband’s lack of urgency or attention to detail or me being an asshole and assuming the worst). I do it for him so he can come home and feel like he can relax without an immediate to-do list waiting for him. Yet I do it because I like to provide for him, while at the same time resent him for having to do everything. What the fuck, Nicole. I think some of this is not liking to be by myself. It’s not even just the fact that I’m alone, physically. Being alone gets me stuck in my own head. And if you hate yourself, why would you want to be with yourself, 24 hours a day? It’s always the weekends that get bad for me when he’s gone. Mainly, it’s because as I near my 30′s and people get busy, I can’t get anybody to fucking hang out with me. I’m on my own. During the week I have 10 hours of work to distract me, and then I enjoy coming home for a few hours and then going to bed. Weekends are 48 hours of solitude. And I almost feel guilty for like..having fun and doing stuff without him. Which is 100% on me. I don’t need to do that. But he often will tell me to do wait to do things (like around the house), etc. for when he gets home. And then weeks and weeks pass. Sidevent, I’m so tired of being the motivator and scheduler for these things. Like...our bathroom is still not done. I keep mentioning what needs to get done (aka him to do) and it doesn’t get done. Our front door still isn’t fucking installed and we bought in September. His fucking job gets in the way of everything. It sucks all of his time, energy, and motivation. But they keep throwing money at him so it’s fine. It’s not. He tells me all of the time he’s just content to sit at home doing nothing during our free time because of his long hours and travel. I don’t have either and never get to leave this fucking town, so all I want to do is do so. I want to see the world. People. Dive into other cultures and learn. I feel like he wants anything but. It makes me feel trapped. Tethered. Leashed. Maybe I need to learn to just go and do these on my own. But again, I do so much by myself and alone already...why do I need to add another thing? I do so much alone. Grocery shopping, cleaning, hanging out, visiting our friends. Now I have to travel alone?

So much of my life I thought a lot of my thought processes were an account of my upbringing. Which, I guess it still is. Or was me being humble, modest. I have always assumed the worst of people (in ways such as people promising to do something for me and I will immediately and plan accordingly and assume they will never fulfill that promise because I’m not important enough to keep a promise for or be cared about). I always make myself the point of blame and scapegoat myself in situations. Reality: it’s actually pretty fucking selfish. Not everything is about me. Someone can be upset by something entirely outside of me, dumbass. I am not the cause of everything horrible. I will always convince myself that people don’t like me. Don’t love me. Don’t care about me. Don’t want to be around me. It’s incredibly lonely. I don’t know how to make it stop.

[emergencyplumberbirmingham]

Boiler Repairs Woodgate, Birmingham

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

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

General Requirements to Become a Plumber in Woodgate

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

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

Emergency Plumbers - Tips to Find the Best

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

The Strategy Required to Start Any Business

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

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

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

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

Keep Things Simple and Straightforward

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

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

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

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

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

Emergency Plumber

The word plumbing is derived from the Latin word for lead 'Plumbum'. The first signs of plumbing on a mass scale were evident in ancient Rome where they initially made use of aqueducts and gravity to get water from high altitudes to cities such as Rome. As plumbing developed the Romans began to use lead pipes, which prevented outside contaminants from getting into the water supply and allowed water to be transported under greater pressure. Plumbing has progressed greatly since then and now incorporates a large scale of activities. Most of the developments in plumbing however, have only taken place within the last century. Up until the eighteenth century and in isolated cases the nineteenth century many plumbing systems were still making use of lead pipes which itself contaminated the water and caused lead poisoning.

Most people are familiar with plumbing on a micro scale such as the plumbing mechanisms found in a house, but don't understand how they work, or just don't have the tools and capacity to fix them. Many plumbers and unqualified entrepreneurs make a living by fixing domestic plumbing systems. These jobs can include anything from fixing leaks and unblocking sewage systems to the installation of geysers.

Why Is Plumbing Important in Woodgate?

Water always seeks its own level. That is the physical law in which plumbing is based. If you are a homeowner with zero plumbing awareness, this is one fact that, at the very least, you should be aware of. Take this to heart, because this water principle, coupled with the natural law of gravity and pressure, will make or break your home, bank account, and state of mind, depending on your actions or lack of it.

Plumbing systems work in two ways; one is to take water in, and the other is to take water out. More succinctly, clean water in, dirty or waste water out. If that simple order or sequence gets mixed up, it's time to call a plumber to fix a monumental plumbing disaster.

How does clean water come into your home? That is explained by the natural law of pressure. Pressure allows clean water to pass through pipes, travel upwards to one or several floors, move left or right into this room or that, wherever it's needed. Those ubiquitous water valves control the way these pressurized water move in and around your home. Cold water is easily obtained from your main water supply through the process above. But if you need hot water, the cold water is first redirected to an installed water heater in your home that warms it up. The heated water then travels along the hot water line that again brings the water to all outlets in the home that requires hot water, like the dishwater, the bath tub or the shower.

Plumbing, as you see, is a science. Ignore the science behind it and your home will either be flooded, or you will encounter water damage of varied proportions. Undertaking any plumbing repair, particularly major damages, is best left to the capable hands of plumbers. Some areas have particular local plumbing codes that need to be checked on whether or not a homeowner is allowed to self-repair plumbing problems.

In the long run, knowing the science of plumbing can save a lot of money on your behalf and better protection for your home.

http://emergencyplumberbirmingham.co/local/

Emergency plumber Birmingham offers Drain Unblocking 

from EPB http://emergencyplumberbirmingham.co/local/woodgate-plumbing/

[cubedcoffeecake]

Power-Washed

He felt a tear slip down his cheek. I thought… I knew that they’d understand. No. I trusted that they would. They had to. But they didn’t.

“All this time? All this time, and you were just…”

“You’re not just anything!” Lynn’s words had stung. But Lillian? He had needed her. He still needs her. “You are a practically-all-powerful mage alien who has lied to our souls as we bared them to you.”

The others had begun to try to interrupt, but silenced. Lillian had stated their turmoil as well as one could.

“We… We might have accepted you. I know I can’t swear that we would’ve, and I know that you being you must have thought it would be better for us to love part of you than to reject you—but is that even you?”

“I…”

“It would have been a slower process, but we could have learned to see you as the terrifyingly more mature, better traveled alien and learned to accept you, and come to understand you, even if we had to trust your word on things, and we could have been the crazy group of kids who befriended YOU, not some snooty façade you put on to make us more comfortable, or why ever you thought this course of action was sensible, and… and…” Lillian’s mouth caught up with her mind and she trailed off into silence. It was broken a moment later by her brother. He always saw the details she missed.

“You were so prideful you believed that you knew what was best for us better than we did, and you never questioned your own faulty reasoning because you were so selfish you didn’t want to give up what little you had by quitting the lie and coming clean.”

“No!” Lucas instantly asserted. “I couldn’t tell you. I can weave a lie, but I am not so skilled… I am not very good at the unweaving. And—and I swear to you, my past is truly not important! I have set it aside. It has not until now affected you, and I never saw that this moment could come. Truly, it—“

“I can see through that! If your past was unimportant, you wouldn’t be trembling in fear right now, man. And I see you straighten up now, but come on.” Lynn stepped closer. “And don’t you tell me for a second that you don’t know how important stories are to Lillian.”

“I couldn’t tell just—“

Lynn stepped closer. She had to peer up to see Loki’s face, now. “And you could never have missed the fact that Lillian would never tell a whisper to the wind of anything you don’t want her to, and you know that we don’t push when she keeps a secret, because it’s never her own.” Another step. Their faces were inches apart, both twisting into fury. Physical harm was moments away. “You know that you could have told Lillian any step of the way and she would’ve forgiven you for the time you kept it to yourself. She would’ve tried to comfort you, and she would’ve listened, and loved, and you know that and have known that.” His fist clenched. “If you weren’t currently thrusting this on us while attempting to lie to us, treating us like toys or kids or pets or something, like it’s no big deal when it is, if you weren’t turning your back on us and our trust, and trying to elevate yourself above us in your head to handle it, like you did when you first came, if you were still treating us like your friends and genuinely wanting us to forgive you and trusting us to, like when any of us have admitted our granted lesser but our deepest, most painful secret…

“Lillian still would.

“But you aren’t, are you? You’re just a spoiled little boy who’s trying to cope with pain by shoving everyone below himself, instead of letting them have a foothold to hurt you, and trusting that they’ll love you instead.”

In the moment that Lynn finished speaking, Loki lunged forward, Lynn prepared to punch, and the others stepped forward to interfere, a soft sob was heard that seemed to stop time.

Heads turned to see Lillian staring at the ground, eyes tightly closed and leaking tears. Loki stiffened, and the lesson Lynn had been trying to hit him in the head with hit his heart instead.

He had become so entirely obsessed with his own misfortune, and selfishly “dealing” with his own pain, that he had not once remembered how thin the thread was that Lillian’s self-esteem hung on. Nor just how loving she was.

Loki suddenly knew that she was going to take everything that had happened and love him for it all the more and hate herself and blame herself and even when not actively putting herself down, he had shattered the foundation she had formed for herself. He had shattered it.

Claiming to love her with all his soul, he had selfishly shattered hers.

Two days later, Crystal, Jacob, Lynn, Miles, and Faith were done. With life. With love. And largely, with Lucas.

Lillian had been trying, but she had gone into robot “say what they want, do what they want, be what they want” mode, but at the same time it was clear she wanted to cry or cut or rut or something other than be composed and around people. So Miles and Faith were working on keeping her somewhat sane and calm while wrapped up in blankets and pillows eating ice cream and watching movies, knowing that they were really just stalling, because someone like Lillian needed closure if she was ever going to get better.

Meanwhile, Loki had locked himself in a maintenance closet and somehow spelled (?) the door closed.

The group had actually seen this before. Lillian coped by blaming herself for all evil and being torn between wanting to work and help other people until she felt better and locking herself in a dark room and railing on herself, and was logical enough to try the former, but the desire for the latter always distracted her from doing the former well and made her think worse of herself. Lucas always coped by literally starving himself and screaming at himself in mirrors until he snapped and sought out the person who he saw to be capable of fixing this issue and had a very dramatic soliloquy to deliver that they would receive well, and all would be fine.

But at the moment, it seemed reconciliation would be a bit harder than normal.

“She’s… fading,” Miles commented. “I dunno how to put it, exactly…”

“Lili isn’t going to be content with Princess Bride for much longer,” Faith cut in. “She’s hurting and she’s been holding herself from serious self-destructing but she needs Lucas to come and work with her on making this better. Or it’s not going to be better.”

“…That,” Miles agreed.

“Easy, then,” Lynn commented, tone bordering furious and frosty, “We drag the loser out of his hole and make him fix this.”

“Won’t fix it. He’s worn so thin by now, I’m sure, that he’ll snap and get angry, and hurt her more, and then feel even more guilty, and flee back to the closet. But he needs to feel regret, not guilt,” Faith pointed out calmly.

“I’ll talk to him,” Jacob said flatly.

“Ummm…” Crystal started. “I thought our seer-in-training (Crys, for the thousandth time, I am NOT…) just said that was a bad idea. Should we maybe have Lillian go to Luc?”

Everyone fell silent.

“While I think Jacob actually would handle this relatively well…” Faith started, “That is a really good idea,” Lynn finished.

“Aw man. No brother yelling at could-have-been-boyfriend moment,” Miles complained.

“Okay, well, Jacob, do you want to go…?” Lynn suggested pointedly. Jacob smiled wryly, clearly thinking something he didn’t plan to share, but he stood up nodding anyway. The others watched him go and prayed.

“…Lil?”

“You want to reverse the natural order.”

“…”

“I have ears. Y’all can’t whisper.”

“…Lil, you think the natural order is baloney, and have been known to agree with Crystal that the concept was invented to be defied. How bad are you exactly?”

“…I demand another fresh tub of the chocolatiest ice cream you can find. And that everyone go to wherever is as far away as from where Lucas and I’ll be as is possible. No cameras. No recording devices.”

“…You are concerning me, but that’s not abnormal, I guess. Give me twenty minutes for the ice cream and forty to move Lynn.”

He didn’t get the desired chuckle, but considered the conversation mostly successful.

Lucas heard knocking on the door, and was about to recast the silencing spell so he could keep thinking until his mind resembled the aftermath of trench warfare, but froze with his hand midair as he heard the last thing he could possibly have expected.

“L—Lucas?” Lillian.

He jerkily undid the spells and threw open the closet door, narrowly avoiding Lillian. She jumped back, but then held her ground. They both stood staring at each other, at a loss, until she nudged a step forward and held out her arms a little. “Ice cream?”

A few minutes later they were back in the closet with the door spelled, eating ice cream. They both felt more comfortable crammed into this tiny room than they would’ve in the large living room beyond the door, and both adored chocolate ice cream. So, as unresolved as their issues were, and as platonic as their friendship was the last time either checked, she was curled up in his lap using his chest as a pillow while he fed her ice cream anytime he wasn’t feeding himself some.

“Lucas?”

“Yes?” He purposely didn’t glance at the large (gorgeous) brown eyes looking up at his face, and he tried to ignore how soft and small her voice was.

“I…” She nuzzled into his chest. “This isn’t about me, though. I can’t fix it. You have to.” He stiffened, and she quickly finished “But please, please say something, anything, I can’t keep doing this, and I still love you and I’ll forgive you and I’ll love you and everyone else might not but I do and I will, Lucas, I will.”

Tears slowly wet his shirt as they finished the ice cream. It was hours later that she was awoken by his voice.

“I was a prince. Spurned. Far too young. I did not know what to do with myself. I had never even learned how I truly ought to conduct myself. But…” Another expanse of time passed, and she was drowsy again when he next spoke. “I came across the lot of you, and I learned. And I should have told you, and I should not have handled any of this the way I did, and… I believe if I were to relive my past, I know what to do differently in order to purge myself of these sins I have committed against you.”

“Mmm.”

He smiled down at her. She was exhausted, but finally felt safe and was relaxing and could not stay awake. Nor was he going to ask her to. “I love you, darling, and I beseech thee for any kindness you could find in your heart for me. I shall endeavor to give you my fond kindnesses, as well.” He felt like a sap. Oh well. It must be said somehow, sooner or later.

“Mmmmmmmmm.” That sounded like it meant something, but Lucas did not have the faintest idea what. “Are… Do you wanna court?” Luc stiffened. He knew Lillian well enough to know she waited for men express their interest in her rather than approaching them herself. “I know… I know that you’d never ask me, even if you wanted to, so I asked you, while I’m… sleepy… enough… to have an excuse.”

By the time he had been able to calm his silent laughter (mixed with tears. Her pain was his fault, but she was alive, and she’d be well) and murmur a firm affirmative, Lillian was sound asleep. On his chest.

Loki smiled to himself. This was not a turn he had planned for his life—fantasizing about and planning were different—but he was well pleased with it.