#favors

[pratchettquotes]

"Well, if I can be of any help to the Times--"

"We won't be bribed, either," said William. He knew he was galloping in among the sharpened stakes here, but he'd be damned before he'd be patronized.

"Bribed?" said Vetinari. "My dear sir, seeing what you're capable of for nothing, I'd hesitate to press even a penny into your hand."

Terry Pratchett, The Truth

[clnclm]

[chancellor-tesalicious2]

Command Clone Currency

The clones are unpaid and therefore broke. They can’t really pay each other to do things since they have no money so they go for a new currency: favors

Now, the CTs don’t really do it the same as the Commanders because they have to be specific. They can’t return a favor between battalions quickly, due to fighting/locations/schedule. They’re at the whim of the war and pick and choose their repayment time.

The Comanders are different. They trade and barter like crazy. It’s favors with a few cases of alcohol. They can trade favors they are owed to others all the time, so anyone can cash it. They can pull the strings to get their payment quick.

For example, Cody needed a save from a small squad. He knew Delta was on planet doing some mission and he needed a detour but he had no connection or favor. However, Fox (for some reason) did. Cody offered a case of spotchka and a favor Monnk owed in return for having Delta do the detour. Delta owed fox one less favor, Cody owed no favors (which is the best outcome, since Fox WILL cash it) and Fox got something on Monnk and free (very expensive) spotchka.

Few CTs knew they did it this way, and the CT captains such as Rex and Keeli had to quickly adapt to this way of thinking. Rex made the mistake of owing Bacara before anyone told him. Keeli was lucky enough to meet the SpecOps CC Blackout, who clued him in on the difference but left him high and dry when it came to implementing his knowledge. (Keeli ended up owing Blackout two mini guns for his ‘friendly advice’)

Though, when times are tough and there is little time to barter, it is common to put off the payment until after the act is completed. Though many hate doing this as the trading can become unfair. What often happens is the party in need already has a deal prepared and states their need and their payment, it is hardly ever contested (however the helper may tack on another fee which is accepted or denied).

For example, Doom needed backup from Jet’s flame troopers. He quickly called, stated his need, and his payment of a case of charges. Jet had found the payment (though correct in price, unpractical for his squad) and changed it to half a case of fuel (easier for Doom to get a hold of and just as useful as charges to a Demolition team). Doom accepted the terms and Jet’s squad arrived right on time.

Though the bartering is mostly physical, many deal in the intangible. Perfect examples are all of the Coruscant Guard and the Special Operations teams. These are the only two groups who has everyone (including CT shinies) in on this system. They have the least to offer when it comes to normal ops, after all what GAR commander needs to know where a random Senator is going to be at what time or who slept with who. However, this trading info is perfect for the Guard who constantly works with/against (yay embezzlement and blackmail) these same Senators and for the SpecOps who need to know political climates and interpersonal relationships for recon and assassinations.

Most trading goes on between those two, and their prices are often higher since the missions are higher stake. Often Commando Squads are up for bids (who doesn’t want a four man 100% mission completion rate squad in their pocket), blackmail on natborn officers, republic secrets, senators schedules, crime syndicates favor and areas of interest, etc.

For the Guard, their trading goes further. They work with crime syndicates to keep it off the streets while keeping profit up. Those who do not work with them, go down. They’ve gain control of the lower 2000 levels through this and those who do not conform are forced to by the Guard or the citizens of the lower levels who don’t want to deal with the Guard, (peer pressure and bullying at its finest.)

The commanders learned this from watching the Cuy’val Dar, who would often trade on Kamino. The Alphas picked it up and used it but the CCs truly made it valuable beyond belief. The trainers traded for free shifts and booze, the CCs traded for mission successes and heavy artillery.

Many CTs attempt to learn how this system works. However, as few know it’s different, even fewer see the affects; those that do, know well enough to leave it be.

Despite there being no real difference in intelligence between the CCs and CTs, witnessing the speed and weight of the trades, makes even the Jedi’s head spin.

The Padawans are one of the few outsiders to see it in action. They do not really like it, but many pick it up for lesser trades (help with this paper or answers for this homework). Cal Kestis surprisingly picks it up the best. He’s the youngest so very impressionable, eager to learn, his CC Commander Steel, is very good at it, and Steel is possibly the only one to teach their General’s Padawan.

Steel sees that Cal isn’t going to be on the field much (Steel agrees with this and makes sure he stays on the Venator). So, if Cal ever needs help, he knows how to get it. Steel has made him be present for several trades and even made him come up with theoretical ones. Cal becomes very good at it, but is unable to flex his skills much due to the other Padawans unable to match his speed or skill. They are several years older, see it as in-Jedi like or are bad at it (or their Captains are bad at it and can’t teach them well), their concept of value is off (Jedi don’t often put a price on things and those that do have a habit of underselling due to being nice), and/or they do not know the range of what can be traded.

It’s very personal, with different Commanders wanting different things. Knowing who wants what can often make the payment cheaper for the offering party.

For example, the Marines often need heavy snow gear and blankets. So, offering a box of heating blankets in return for a case of bacta and blaster packs. This is a much better deal than offering a case of mini guns for the bacta and blaster packs. In the second case, Bacara may say no the mini guns or want a case of something else along with the mini guns.

[ichosetenderplaces]

II : In Your Wake Only Blood and Bones

Part 2 : Feel No Fear Before the Multitude of Men Requested By: @lissthatskiss Ares!Technoblade x HalfNymph!Reader

Recommended Listening: Arsonist's Lullabye by Hozier and Vulture Culture by Fangclub Words: 1.4k Taglist: @lissthatskiss @segnoblade @wingedghostpepper

Technoblade was a bored man. Well, not man per say. Though, it is a funny thought that those mortals think they can match him in skill. The smarter ones pray to him for protection in their battles and while, most of the time, he does not indulge them, he has been feeling bored with even those fools as a way to pass the time. The mortals have constructed an arena in his name and he presides over it for the free entertainment for when he is well and truly bored. He has not checked up on the arena these mortals have declared is his in quite some time.

“Heh?” Technoblade says in surprise. 

There seems to be a woman fighter with one of the most beautiful forms of fighting he has seen in quite some time. It is not uncommon for women to fight in his army. His brothers, annoying as they are, were not the only ones to join him in war. Looking closer, he realizes the woman is barely paying any attention! She is cutting down the man in front of her with a glazed out look in her eye. 

She seems to be a veteran of his arena. A fighter of that caliber going unnoticed by his attention is inexcusable. This arena is a far cry from the best he’s ever seen. Though, they do seem to treat her better than most of the other fighters in this pit. After disguising himself as a mortal man, he begins to make a circuit around the place. They serve her barely enough food, douse her in dirty water to “clean” her, and then she is dragged to her cell. That look in her eye remains all the same.

There is something about her that screams of rivers, mountains, and fields. 

“Hmm, she must be at least part nymph. Though, it is not enough for the mortals to pick up on.” Technoblade mutters to himself. 

You have thoroughly captured his attention. Bored no longer, he eagerly awaits your next fight. 

Technoblade has never taken much interest in mortals. While he has come across those of whom that slightly impress him, he’s never found one of your strengths. To be able to fight completely on auto pilot. Barely giving any attention to the fellow fighters you cut down without mercy. The blood you spill, the hatred you feel for those who keep you there - it fills him with the strength of a thousand. 

He knows he is not your god. You have the markings of Artemis, but they have faded. It seems you no longer worship her. All the better for him. Though, he cannot make such an important decision, to bring you under his godhood, lightly. He will need to see more of the strength you hold. See you actually try during a fight. If the whispers he has heard around this arena are any indication, it seems your owners are orchestrating your “final” fight - one that is designed for you to lose. 

“Perhaps I could get her to devote herself to me. One divine blessing certainly couldn’t hurt. She will not be allowed to win unless I step in. Hmm, a talk with Lady Kristin is in order.” 

The domain of the Keres are ever changing. They slip between war torn villages, battlefields, and gruesome epidemics. But, being the God he is, they are more than easy to find. Technoblade has been well acquainted with these goddesses since he first entered godhood, perhaps even before then. There is one Keres, however, that presides over them all. Lady Kristin. It is a good thing that they have been friends for a very long time. For what he is about to ask of her would not be accepted if they were not old friends. 

Arriving in her domain, he is immediately hit with the image of Lady Kristin atop her throne of thorns and bones. At her right side is one of the oldest and most loyal of her servants - Philza. 

“Techno! It has been quite some time since you last visited us.” Kristin greets him excitedly. The Keres are always quite fond of him, for the wars he causes empower their divinity.  They feed on the bloodshed and death he causes, their existence goes hand in hand. However, Kristen is more than just any Keres. She guides those who die a violent death into the underworld - a fate he is trying to stop you from suffering. 

“My apologies. I have found myself a bit bored lately. I thought a visit between friends could break my boredom.” Technoblade drawls. While he did come here to get Kristen to leave your soul to him, he has missed his friends. Kirstin laughs, “You hardly ever crawl out of that domain of yours unless it's for war, or something equally exciting. Not that I’m not happy with you here.” Kristen has always had a way to see through his bluster. For all that he is proud of who he has become, he will never be a people person. He is the epitome of bloodlust, after all. 

“Yeah mate, we usually have to visit after one of your battles.” Philza speaks up from beside the throne. Technoblade tries to defend his poor social life, “Well, I am a busy man.” Kristin and Philza laugh. “You did just tell us that you’ve been feeling bored. A “busy” god such as yourself rarely make time for social calls, Techno.” Kristin speaks with words full of mirth, and at his expense. 

Feeling a slight bit attacked, Technoblade quickly switches the subject. “Well, I am here to ask a small favor, on top of getting to see my dear friends.” Technoblade is not a man who asks for favors. To do so, in his mind, implies weakness. But, he has known these two for nearly his entire time as a god. They will not prey on his weakness, this he is sure of. 

 “Oh, a favor?” Kristen is quickly intrigued, as is her loyal crow. “You almost never ask us for favors, Tech. Certainly not since that time in the Trojan war.” 

“Well, you see, there is a mortal woman who has caught my attention. Her swordsmanship is truly magnificent and she hardly has to think while fighting against her opponents. I fear she will have the odds stacked against her in an upcoming fight. I ask of you to not take her soul.” Technoblade explains. Kristin and Phil quickly exchange surprised and startled glances. “You have not expressed any interest in mortals outside of their wars, what could have possibly brought this on?” Kristen asks, Phil still standing there trying to process such an unlikely request from his oldest friend. 

“They have not engaged in any, truly, invigorating fights. Their meagre wars no longer sate my desire for warfare. Something to keep my attention is badly needed. This boredom is akin to the feeling I had before the war I started with Kronos and his potatoes.” Technoblade explains. Kristin and Phil both pale. That war had lasted centuries and they barely ever got to see their friend, let alone feed on his exploits. “Well, we can certainly help with that. I will appoint Phil to watch over her and give the order to leave her soul to you. I truly hope you will find what you are looking for in this mortal woman.” Kristen replied with enthusiasm. She has watched her friend keep himself at arms length with most of the other gods. Philza and her are the only ones to ever make him feel at such ease. To have another, someone closer, would truly make her excited for her friend. 

“I truly appreciate it, Kristin.” Technoblade says to her. “Let us know if you need any help with anything more, especially considering this lady.” Philza insisted. He knows his friend, perhaps better than anyone else, and knows he is not much of a converser. “I will, Phil, thank you.” “Anything for you, Techno.” The two chorused together. He could not ask for a better pair of divines in his corner. 

After saying goodbye, Technoblade arrives at his home on Mount Olympus. His palace is large and rugged, a reflection of the god himself. The other gods avoid his domain like the plague - and his all the happier for it. Though, having some company to keep him preoccupied during his bouts of boredom would not be objectionable, not in the least.

[exitchorus]

more genie sketches

[istanyoustan5676]

Remember that one time you were on cloud nine after meeting one of the doctors 🥼 at your new gig and he asked you for a favor and it got stressful real fast?

Oh wait, of course you don’t because I just wrote it on my notes app due to our power going out ⛈️ and when the mind wonders, it wonders to this fucking KING.

Okay thanks bye! 🍪

(not even a whisper of editing here, this was purely to pass the time) 🐶

-

You smiled when you saw the contact photo appear on your phone.

Dr. Abbot, with finger guns in the air, eyebrows raised, ridiculous smirk on his face.

He’d earned this contact photo, or rather, you’d lost a bet (but you’d never admit how much you loved the rare instances when it popped up and you got to stare for a second before answering).

You accept the call but before you can say hello he starts talking.

“Hey side chick….”

(You cater all the hospital gatherings and you’d made the mistake of giving into your nerves the first time you met the man and blurted out “I’m the side girl,” instead of “welcome to my station, how can I serve you?” You’d always wondered if the nickname would have stuck if you’d have worked another station but “sandwich girl” and/or “dessert girl” didn’t have the same ring.)

You take a second now to try and remember when he changed it from girl to chick but nevertheless, he was already talking a mile a minute, bringing you back to reality.

“Can you help me out?”

“Wait, sorry, what?” You stutter, almost dropping a tray of cookies on the ground.

“Keep up SC, I’m running into a trauma.”

It bothered you how light his voice was, given whatever he was walking into, but you had a lot to learn about him.

“I’m watching my friend’s dog, she hates thunder, can you just go check on her for me? Gonna be later than I thought, you know where my keys are.”

You opened your mouth to respond, but once again…

“Gotta go, you’re a life saver…”

There was a pause, you weren’t sure if he was still there, but then…

“Fuck, hopefully I’m one too.”

The sound of his voice falls away from you until all you can hear is Jack barking orders, yelling for blood, and Dr. Robby.

You let a little shiver move down your spine, trying to shake off the thoughts of whatever was happening in trauma around the corner from you in the hospital’s caterer preparation kitchen.

You sneak a few peanut butter chocolate chip cookies and wrap them up for Jack. He’ll be exhausted, maybe they’ll help.

A blush runs up your cheeks as you carefully place them in your bag, being sure not to crush them.

Perhaps you’re a dessert chick after all…

-

Dr. Abbot had not informed you that his “friend’s dog” was a 65 pound golden retriever, who barley fit in his small rental on the edge of the city, and who had a little more than hate for thunder.

The poor thing was shaking and shivering when you arrived.

You dropped to your knees and pulled her big fluffy body into your arms trying to soothe her.

“Dr. Abbot didn’t tell me your name baby,” you said softly, looking for a tag on her collar.

You dig through the floof and finally find a red heart shaped tag that barely reads “Scout.”

“Well Scout, it’s you and me for a bit, think you can manage a walk in the rain? The bad stuff has blown away for now.”

Truly, your inquiry belongs with yourself. You hate severe weather and if it was publicly acceptable, you would probably be shaking as bad as the dog if the forecast didn’t change soon.

You find a leash hung over the door and grab it, attaching it to Scout’s collar, luckily, she easily accepts. Before you head out, you take a moment to breathe and absorb the overwhelming sent of Jack’s living space. It smells like espresso, detergent, dry dog food, and…you turn slowly to see a scented candle on the table in front of his couch.

It’s a sweet vanilla scent with warmth and bit of spice behind it. You pick it up and inhale ungraciously.

“Oh this is divine,” you murmur.

Your mind travels to sitting with Jack, here, on his couch, with only the candle lit, the flame reflecting in his heated gaze…

Scout lets out a quick huff, eyeing the door.

“Sorry new bestie, I tend to get lost in…well…anything that has to do with the man living here but we don’t talk about that with humans.”

Shaking off your growing Jack obsession, you open the door for Scout and grab a light coat from the rack by the door to keep you dry.

-

Side Chick (10:46 p.m.): Hi, sorry to bother you but I just wanted to let you know Scout and I managed a 45 minute walk before the wind and rain picked up again. They say thunder will be here soon, thinking I’ll stay for a bit?

Side Chick (11:27 p.m.): Hi, it’s me again, the weather is pretty bad, is it OK if I stay a bit longer? Sorry, I know you’re busy.

Side Chick (12:25 a.m.): I’m just about to leave, FYI. She’s still really nervous but I think I helped? I left The Sandlot on for her. She’ll like it. Oh, cookies on the counter are for you, not her. Careful getting home, weather is getting worse.

Missed Call: Side Chick (12:44 a.m.)

Missed Call: Side Chick (12:48 a.m.)

Missed Call: Side Chick (12:49 a.m.)

Side Chick (1:15 a.m.): It’s flooded. The street is flooded. I don’t think I should try to drive my car in it. Is it OK if I stay here a little longer? I’m such a pain in the ass this evening, I owe you many cookies.

Voice Note (1:27 a.m.) Translated: Dr. Abbot, Jack, the sirens are going off and I’m not suuuuure if there’s somewhere I should go I am not great in storms so if…oh the power is out, I should *BOOM*.

Side Chick (1:35 a.m.): A tree just came down, the window is busted. The dog is panicked. I think I may try to drive us out of here. I don’t know what else to do. I guess I should wait for the sirens to stop.

Missed Call: Side Chick (1:42 a.m.)

Missed Call: Side Chick (1:42 a.m.)

Missed Call: Side Chick (1:42 a.m.)

Missed Call: Side Chick (1:42 a.m.)

-

“Fuck that was exhausting,” Jack admitted, finally coming out of the trauma at 2:15 a.m. He gulped water from his bottle and opened his locker to find a clean shirt.

Immediately he noticed his keys were still gone.

Grabbing his phone he froze when he saw the amount of messages and missed calls.

Instead of reading them he dialed you immediately.

Straight to voicemail.

“Fuck!”

Jack pulled a clean shirt over his head and ran out of the break room and through the ED.

“Hey man, you need a smoke break you’re not getting one, it’s Kansas out there,” Dana yelled after him.

The weather was atrocious. He knew he was being stupid jumping into his suv and screaming through the flooded city streets but seven missed calls plus all those messages meant something was wrong.

Hydroplaning, he tossed his car into park a block away and started running through the water logged street, his leg already aching.

A bolt of lightening hit close and Jack cursed himself for being shin deep in water.

Finally, sopping wet and out of breath he made it to his small rental and smashed through the door.

“SC?! Scout?”

He heard a muffled bark in the darkness, and noticed the tree branch sticking in through his living room window.

“Hey! Where are you guys?!” His voice was higher, tense.

Running for the bathroom he flew against the door, shoved it open, pulled out his phone flashlight and almost blinded you with it as he grabbed the shower curtain.

Scout jumped up and into Jack’s arms, knocking him backward, and onto his ass.

He bit the inside of his cheek to keep from cursing and did his best to calm the petrified dog.

“Shh sweet girl, s’ok, we’re all ok.”

Wind whipped through the small condo, and another bolt of lighting shot through the sky so finally Jack could get a look at you.

You were in the bathtub, the most central part of the small condo, arms wrapped around your legs, chattering with adrenaline.

“Hey SC, I don’t think my leg is strong enough to get up yet, will you come here so I can be sure you’re OK?”

You rushed out of the tub and immediately scrambled down to the floor reaching for Jack. Immediately you began sobbing into his neck.

“I’m sorry. I hate storms. I fucking hate them. The fucking sirens and the poor dog, I tried to…”

You feel Jack’s fingers dip into your hair and run against your scalp.

“Shh, both of you.” He has one arm holding you close, his lips touching your forehead, and the other wrapped around Scout.

“We’re OK, and you have every right to be apprehensive, it’s nasty out there.”

“Which is exactly why you shouldn’t have driven home! I panicked, I’m so sorry…”

This time he cuts you off with a soft, kind, peck on your lips.

It jolts you, and your breathing pauses, as intended.

“Hey, only reason I’m here is for cookies.”

You lean up and stare at him for a second.

“You didn’t eat the cookies did you?!” He feigns shock. “I drove in this mess for a reason young lady!”

You let out a momentary small smile. He feels awful for sending you here, you can see it, but you can also see his relief that you’re OK.

“No.” Your voice feels hoarse from crying.

“Well damn straight, why don’t you go get them and we can continue to hang in your little bunkhouse here until the storm blows by…is that my comforter IN the tub?”

You wince.

“I thought, if we needed to cover our heads or…”

“Easy, side chick, I like that you want to be under the covers with me.”

You appreciate his humor, but realize he has still not attempted to get up, perhaps wanting privacy for what will most likely be a painful struggle.

He sees your eyes assessing causing his to storm up a bit at the potential pity.

You let out the last of your nervous shaking as the wind finally begins to calm.

“I’ll let you have both cookies and get under the blanket with you if you promise to start calling me something else,” you tease.

“Baby doll, that’s a fucking deal.”

[hale-my-nathan]

Trump Weird News-SCOTUS, MANDATORY CODE OF ETHICS NOW !!!

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