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writing-havoc · 3 years ago

Text

High

♡ Summary: You come back to the Slat very high, revealing a fear to Kaz he has honestly no idea what to make of

♡ Fandom: Six of Crows, Shadow and Bone

♡ Pairing(s): Kaz Brekker x Reader, platonic!Crows x reader

♡ Warning(s): Weed, mention of stab wound and gunshot wound

♡ WC: 2k

Honestly just a thinly veiled crackfic of sorts? If that's a way to explain it? Just crows being crows. Kaz might be a tad ooc in this one but I honestly can't tell, lemme know. Please excuse any grammar mistakes and spelling errors! Hope you enjoy <3

The idea comes from ScatterPatter's incorrect quote generator!

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The Slat was rather empty as of now, but that was normal given the time of day. The Crow Club needed to be well staffed towards the darkening hours and there were other matters to attend to and that needed to be done under the lamp-light of the sun, leaving the usual Crows and a few other stragglers who managed to snag a shift off or a shift later, few even trading shifts once approved by Kaz.

Kaz stood at the top of the stairs, his a bit propped as he bent his knee, shifting his weight to his good one. It didn't do much, it never did, but it still helped. His eyes scanned the very small crowd below, watching Nina make Matthias go red with her usual raunchy jokes and rub against him in a sultry manner. Jesper laughed at the color of red, while Wylan's face mimicked Matthias' exactly. Inej smiled simply, shaking her head.

A table on the other end of the ground floor held the rest of the people, who were playing their own intense game of blackjack betting corn chips and stale pretzels. Every once in a while a loud roar would eminate from that side, sending pretzels upwards as the loser smashed their fist into the table.

Everything was as it should be, yet it still felt out of place.

You were missing. Maybe not 'Missing' missing, but you had told everyone you'd be gone for an hour or two at most. It's been nearly four and Kaz was ready to send a search party any second.

His hands gripped the railing, fingertips just barely able to feel the rough wood through the slits in his gloves. The door felt like it was glued shut under the scrutiny of his eyes.

But it wasn't. You opened the door not even a moment later, stumbling a little as you stepped through the threshold and closed the door with your back, feet stumbling after it.

For a moment Kaz thought that you were stabbed. Gunshot wound, maybe. But he saw a crooked smile on your face and your eyes were squinting, and really there were only a few explanations for that.

He made his way down the steps, cane thunking on every other one all the way down. Nina and Inej spotted you instantly and called you over, and he watched in minor amusement as you took a moment to respond, grin going stupid on your face as you got a good look at them and sauntered over like you've got your sea legs.

They took in your demeanor instantly, Jesper barking out a rush of laughter at your high self and Matthias staring in confusion. Wylan was placid, watching you walk up.

"I see you had a fun couple of hours." Jesper remarked.

"Yeah they did. They can barely stand upright." Nina chuckled.

You gave her a look of mock offense. "I can stand upright!" But your s's sounded more like a shush and he could tell your mouth was moving slower than your brain, body swaying to one side before you caught yourself and swayed the other way.

"Sure, darling." Nina chuckled.

"What's wrong with them?" Matthias asked

Jesper scoffed. "Oh come on, surely they've got some kind of weed up in Fjerda?"

"They consumed weeds?" Matthias looked you up and down. "That can't be healthy with Ketterdam's waters."

Nina said something in Fjerdan, a translation, and suddenly Matthias' face was one of understanding. "That would explain it."

Wylan smiled. "You couldn't tell by the way they're acting?"

"Ketterdam is a confusing place. Your local activities are not ones I'm accustomed to yet." Matthias huffed. "Surely wouldn't think anybody foolish enough to smoke something like that this late in this city of all places."

"Foolish as it may be," Kaz piped up, "it's standard practice in Kerch. Used both recreationally and medically. The only problem is whether it's laced or not."

You giggled beside him. "It wasn't."

"Obviously." He mumbled, trying his best to keep his expression collected. But you were dancing to a song in your head and couldn't even keep your eyes open and it was making his heart swell.

Inej walked on over, steadying you with a smile. You frowned, being unable to sway to your inner music, but let it go. Instead, you bumped your head, knuckles tapping the rhythm on the table.

"I'm gonna need about four rolls of whatever you smoked tonight." Jesper leaned over and pushed you with two fingers, watching as you swayed back and forth like a buoy when he removed his hand.

Nina chuckled. "Me too, honestly. Y/n, honey, who's your supplier?" Her tone was joking, but curious.

They all watched as you stopped listening to the music in your head, eyes now looking at everyone at the table. You looked lost, almost.

Your eyes landed on Kaz, and he could have sworn his heart lept into his throat when you gave him the softest of smiles and bunted your forehead into the thickest part of his clothing. You pulled back immediately, going back to your internal music.

But it lept in a good way. There was still the micro moment of fear that became instinctual when he was touched, but it ebbed away after a moment of two. He could still feel the pressure of your head pushing into his clothing, pushing into his skin, but it's not nearly as bad as usual.

Finally, when you looked just about ready to sit on the floor after an hour of conversation from the rest of the group, Kaz decided it was time to get you to bed, away from the now incoming groups of people. "C'mon. Let's get you upstairs."

"I don't wanna be a fish." You pouted. He tugged you along, hooking the beak of his cane on your waist. You trudged along, making a very minimal effort to stop him.

"You aren't going to be a fish." He was distinctly aware of how fond he sounded and cursed the Saints Inej prays to.

"No fish?"

"No fish." To be completely honest he's got no idea what you're talking about and how you expect to be turned into a fish. But if he had to guess, you mean you don't want a bath, which he usually makes you take after a little too much to drink (with obvious precautions so that you don't drown yourself). He'd called you a fish once before when you refused to get out of the tub. It must have stuck and resurfaced.

"You're not drunk. So you're not getting a bath." He took the steps with you, making sure that you didn't fall and tumble down the slightly creaky boards. He could hear the teasing from behind him, but didn't care.

You stared at him, eyes cracking open. He could see the whitish parts of your eyes were now tainted pink, pupils blown wide.

He knew you must be thinking right now. That's the part he liked between drunk and high individuals. When you're high you can still think, thoughts at least somewhat coherent with basic morality and problem solving skills slightly intact. Drunk, not so much. He liked seeing the cogs turn in your head as he pushed you up one more stair after the other.

"Waffles." Was all you said after all that steam coming out of your ears.

"I will have waffles brought up soon. We need to get you on soft ground." He brought his fingers up to the small of your back, watching as it arched away from his slowly approaching fingers, your legs picking up the pace.

"Thank you, love." You gave a smile, eyes closed. Though he's not sure whether that was intentional or just because you couldn't keep them open.

A wolf whistle sounded behind him.

"Stop reading my heart, Zenik." He called over his shoulder, cursing the organ in question under his breath. You giggled, Nina giving another one.

The moment you finally made it to his office he closed the door, making swift work to open the door leading to his bedroom.

It's not that he thinks you'll fall over. It's moreso that he knows you'll do anything to stop yourself from doing so, even if it means taking out all of your surroundings and looking like a complete idiot while flailing for a solid handhold. He'd rather not have his office wrecked in the span of two minutes.

Once he moved the covers of his bed to one side, he returned for you, and nearly had a heart attack when he realized you weren't where he left you.

'You're literally inebriated,' he thought. 'How could you have been so silent and so fast under my radar?'

It took not a moment of looking around to find you at his desk, slumped on his chair with your head resting on your crossed arms, upper body leaning onto the flat surface more than you probably should.

"Come, love." He called, walking over to you. "Your bed is ready."

"'At's your bed." You mumbled.

"You use it more than I do. It's yours just as much as it's mine." He steeled himself, taking your hands and pulling you up.

You made quick work to follow, hands still in his gloved ones as he herded you toward the bed. Once you sat down, he bent down and untied your shoes, slipping them off your feet and placing them at the foot where you nearly never tredded.

"Kaz." You called. He looked up in an instant.

"Yeah?"

"I just thought of something really scary."

Your honesty was both chilling and worth admiring. "What'd you think about?"

As you talked, he stood up. "If I ever wake up as my favorite food."

He couldn't help the way his eyebrows crinkled and his lips arched up in a smile. "Elaborate, perhaps?"

"Because I'd eat myself."

He paused. "You'd eat yourself?"

You nodded. "Yeah. Like... no hesitation. I'd look down and just start digging in. I think that would be scary." You were silent for a moment, yet your hands were stilled midair like you were about to say something else. But you didn't. You just nodded again and stopped talking, very confident in yourself and the answer you gave.

"Lucky for you," he took your jacket off, "you won't be waking up as anything of the sort."

"Are you sure?" The fear in your voice was surprisingly palpable.

"I'm sure." He hung your jacket on a metal ring on the inside of the door.

"You promise?"

He turned around to you, seeing just how frightened you were by this concept. He walked up to you calmly and surely, standing in front of you with a face that read confident and not confusion like he felt internally.

"I promise." He put his glove to your forehead and kissed the back of it. "I'm sure you will have the best sleep of your life."

You were thoughtful for a moment, a slight blush on your cheeks and crawling through the shell of your ear. Once you were absolutely sure, you nodded and let yourself fall to the mattress in a very similar fashion to a sack of potatoes.

Kaz barely had time to get you to pull your legs up and under the covers before you were out like a light, soft snores filling the small room.

He sighed heavily.

He really loved you, there was no question in that... but what the fuck is he supposed to do with this? Eating yourself should you wake up as your favorite food? This couldn't be a genuine fear, he had to convince himself of that.

It was a thought he would carry around constantly for at least the next few weeks, he was sure of it.

When he had asked you about in the morning, well rested just like he expected, you just shuddered and walked away.

Kaz doesn't want to know anymore.

#kaz brekker fanfic #kaz brekker x y/n #kaz brekker #kaz brekker imagine #kaz brekker x reader #six of crows fanfic #soc x reader #six of crows x reader #shadow and bone x reader #fanfic #kaz brekker x you

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sunshineandcybertronians · 4 years ago

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Transformers Prime Choose Your Own Adventure - Run to the left

This is a part of a 'Choose your own path’. If you haven’t already, I suggest starting from the Beginning

You bolted left while the others went right. It was too late to change your mind to go with them, you were alone. One of the menacing robots followed you and the other chased the boys. Thankfully, it was only leisurely walking towards you, but you would get tired soon and you quickly found you had nowhere to run.

Your legs ached. Your lungs begged for rest. You might end up running until you collapsed from exhaustion. Tears brimmed in your eyes as you anticipated being grabbed or shot any second.

In the nick of time, a sturdy, green army truck came rolling onto the scene. In a few seconds followed by clicking of metal changing position, the truck was now a large robot with a wrecking ball for a hand charging at the robot chasing you.

The ball collided with the enemy and he was knocked so far away that you could hardly see anymore.

"Whoa," you grinned, slowing down to a jog. "Thank you!" you called to him.

He seemed to hesitate for a second as if not knowing how to react to a small human's thanks. "Just get out of here while you can," was what he ended up saying before transforming back into his vehicle form and continuing to where the others where.

You complied and ran back home.

After school was over, you spotted Raf by a tree by the road. You walked over to him.

"Hey, Raf. I'm happy you're alright," you admitted.

"I'm happy you're alright too, Jack and I had no idea what happened to you after that robot ran after us," he said.

"A green robot saved me and I ran back home," you explained.

You turned and saw Jack walk. down the stairs. You and Raf waved him over.

"Hey," he greeted you a few steps away. "Let's just keep this between us."

The sound of a car horn cut through the air and Raf's eyes widened in excitement when he saw what it came from. "Jack," he addressed the teenager, "look."

A yellow car with black stripes rolled up in front of the young boy along with the army truck from the other day. They stopped in front of you.

"That's the bot who saved me," you pointed at the green truck.

"Not again," Jack took a step back. The passenger door for each vehicle opened up. A beeping noise erupted from inside the car.

"Get in," the gruff voice that you remember from yesterday said.

"They... want us to get in," Jack guessed.

"No," Raf calmly disagreed with a smile, "just me."

"How do you know that?" he inquired and waved his arms.

"Yeah," you wondered how Raf could possibly know that.

"It said so," Raf answered. You nodded, having learned during one of your conversations that he could understand him, but the teacher began class before you could ask more.

"What?"

"Yours is over there," Raf gestured to the motorcycle parked by the school. You weren't sure who he or she was, but based on her color scheme, you assumed she was the female robot.

"So this must be mine," you jumped into the truck without a hesitation.

"I really don't think that..." you didn't hear anymore of Jack's sentence as the door close and you rolled out.

"It's great to see you again. Thank you for saving me yesterday. Oh, where are we going again?" you asked, feeling slightly unintelligent for going with the talking vehicle without even knowing where you were going or why.

"To our base. Optimus Prime wants you there for your protection," his voice came from the speakers.

"Protection from the things that attacked your friends and me last night?" you almost shuddered at your near death experience.

"Bingo. We've been at war for a long time, so long that I don't know if I could stop fighting if the war finally ended," he admitted.

You drooped at that thought. "That's kinda sad."

"Yeah."

You drove in silence for a little while, rolling outside of Jasper and onto the road in the desert. "Can you turn on the radio?" you asked.

"Sure," the dial moved on its own and a familiar melody played.

"Oh, I love this song," you started bobbing your head to the music.

"Me too!" he sounded the most excited you ever heard him.

"You listen to music?" you wondered with a smile.

"Yeah! I've been on Earth a long time and I like music. It's a little hard not to listen to it when humans are playing it all the time," he said.

"Sure is. Music is awesome. It makes you feel like dancing and can make you feel better.

"Yeah," he agreed and you could swear that you heard a smile.

"What's your name?"

"Bulkhead."

"Can we be friends? I know war can be hard and you might not have time for that, but it can be better with a friend, and you seem pretty awesome," you stared at the steering wheel with a symbol that resembled a face as if it were his eyes.

He considered it for a second, "I don't see any problem with that."

"Yes," you pumped a fist in the air, though you made sure it wasn't too high.

You listened to music the rest of the way there. you can to a T in the road. With the car in front, they drove off the top of the T, straight towards the rocks.

"Watch this," Bulkhead said.

While driving towards a mesa, the rock in the surface began to split open to make a secret entrance. You rolled with the shadows covering you.

"Cool!" you exclaimed.

Before you knew it, you were in a huge room, and you meant huge. It was so big that Bulkhead could have jumped in it and come nowhere near touching the ceiling. The walls were rough rocks, a clear sign the base was made by carving into the mesa.

On a large alien looking computer was a white and red robot. His body slightly turned to see the newcomers better. His eyes showed annoyance and, at the same time, curiosity as he studied you and the other three as if wondering what to make of you.

"That's Ratchet," he told you.

As soon as you got out and all the others did the same, they transformed back. You suddenly felt very small compared to the giants. You realized that apparently Jack picked up someone else, a Japanese girl. Her black hair with a pink highlight was in two twin tails.

Her eyes immediately locked onto Bulkhead. "Whoa," breathed in amazement.

"I thought there were two," Ratchet said.

Arcee gave a reply, but you didn't hear what she said as you studied the room.

"I'm Raf," the young boy held out his hand politely to shake one of the robots' hands, although somewhat unnecessary considering how large their hands were.

"I'm Miko," she immediately ran up to Bulkhead. "Who are you?"

"Bulkhead," he answered while taking a step back, clearly not used to the attention.

"Are you a car? I bet you're a truck, a monster truck!" she jumped up. "You look heavy? How much do you weigh? Have you ever used a wrecking ball or a punching bag?"

Bulkhead looked nervous and taken aback with all the questions. "Miko, let him answer," you laughed. You like her already. "And yes, he is a truck," you answered in a lower voice.

"Awesome!" her eyes lit up.

"So, if your robots, who made you?" Raf questioned when it crossed his mind.

"Urgh. Puh-leez," Ratchet one rolled his eyes.

"Don't worry, he's always like that," Bulkhead leaned down and whispered to you and Miko.

The ground shook as a blue and red robot, the tallest of them all, strolled in. He stopped in front of the humans and you all ran up to him. You assumed that must be Optimus Prime, he looked like the leader and he just looked like he would have a name like that.

"We are autonomous robotic organisms from the planet Cybertron, also known as Autobots," he explained in a strong, gentle voice.

Jack took a few steps forward. "Why are you here?"

"To protect your planet from Decepticons,"

"The jokers who tried to bump us off last night," Arcee filled in. You nodded, connecting the dots that those other dangerous robots that almost got you killed were Decepticons.

Jack took in the information and quickly thought of another question, "Okay... why are they here?"

Optimus Prime got down on one knee to close the far distance between his eyes and yours. "A fair question Jack." Knowing that the next part was probably important plus following the lead of Raf and Miko, you took a few steps in and listened carefully. "In part, they are here because our planet is uninhabitable, ravaged by centuries of civil war."

After Raf asked why they were at war, Optimus explained that one of the reasons was to control energon, which is their life source. He also mentioned that Megatron had once been like a brother to him, but his ideals became corrupt, thus he the leader of the Decepticons.

"Is there going to be a quiz?" Miko yawned.

You covered your mouth in attempt not to laugh. It probably was very important and something that should be taken seriously, but it was funny nonetheless.

"So what does Megatron, or any of this have to do with us?" Jack asked.

"Megatron has not been seen or heard from for some time, but if his return is eminent, as I may fear, it could be catastrophic. "

That last part scared you. What would that mean for you, and the entire planet for that matter. Definitely not what you were expecting to learn today when you woke up. But when you looked over at Bulkhead, all of those fears seemed to disappear. You knew that everything would be alright.

The end

Wanna start another adventure?

#roleplay

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queandrue · 5 years ago

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Interlude, Ea and Emin: Months

AN: Que and I did another fic together! This one is a companion to Interlude, Ea and Talnah: Months . Hope you like it! It took us a while, but it was fun to do! ~Rue

Word Count: 4505

Emin was absolutely ecstatic, giddy even.

He’d been on the earring nonstop with Jacar and Claire ever since Talnah gave him the okay to break the news.

Pregnant.

Through some miracle the Raven Queen had allowed him to take a bit of time off for the occasion—unless an emergency came up. His coworkers even got him some balloons and a terribly cheesy card as congratulations.

“I’m so happy for you Emin,” Jacar��s voice buzzed through the line, tired and worn from all the performing that he and Ea had been doing. “Tell Talnah I say congrats.”

“You can tell her yourself when you get up here J-Dog,” Emin said, “besides, it’s been a while since I’ve seen you and Claire. Gods when did we all get so busy not looking for our next meal?”

“Too long.”

I can’t wait to see you— Oh!” Emin interrupted himself, “No telling Ea alright? Tal wants to tell her herself when she gets here.”

“Of course Emin,” Jacar sounded like he didn’t know whether to chuckle or grimace. “She had to travel back home for… something anyway.”

“Really? What for?”

Emin had heard that Ea had come from somewhere and that was about the only information he’d gotten on the subject. That and a very nasty look from Ea when he asked. He was partially convinced at this point she had come from space.

“Yeah, she didn’t say what for, but I couldn't tell her if I wanted to.”

There was a long silence then, and Emin felt a little guilty for bringing it up. He and Talnah both knew that they’d have to cross this bridge eventually—he’d certainly suggested they just never mention it. Like one would from a very conservative grandmother, but Ea was his wife’s sister and he supposed that technically made them inlaws.

Why couldn’t he have fucking normal inlaws?

“Just be careful when you break the news to her…”

“Come on Jacar, don’t worry. The worst she could do is kill me.”

*******

There was a flash of red and Emin’ back hit the mansion wall, bricks digging uncomfortably through his cloak, as a surprisingly strong arm held him in place by the throat. He blinked. Once. Twice. A third time—just for good measure. When his vision cleared, the stunned expression plastered on his face slowly melted into a cocky grin.

"Well hello to you too Ea."

She just snarled in response, dark lips curling back to reveal impossibly sharp teeth. The horns that curled around her head cast threatening shadows across her face. He’d forgotten just how dangerous Ea could be when she wanted to.

Emin knew Talnah had been worried about this—watched her pace around the home all day, tail twitching as she practiced what she was going to say to Ea.

All the oddly strained expressions fit so poorly on her face that it would have been cute had it been literally any other situation. Pale fingers fidgeted with her wedding ring, glancing to him for reassurance before repeating the cycle no matter how he consoled her.

Of course he knew Ea would react terribly; he knew this, he just didn't care.

She hadn't exactly been fond of him when he started getting cozy with Talnah in the beginning. And while they had gotten a bit closer over the years, all that progress seemed to have evaporated just a few seconds ago.

He was foolish to believe that it would have changed anything.

"Ea please…"

Emin could hear the anxiety in Talnah's voice. The quick glance he caught of her face confirmed it. Robin looked more exasperated than anything.

He couldn't blame her.

"I knew I shouldn't have trusted you alone with her," Ea's voice was a growl.

His chest tightened up a bit despite himself. There was nothing to be afraid of; she wouldn’t dare maul him in front of Talnah….probably.

“Now Ea—”

“Stuff it you cocky piece of shit.”

The arm against his throat pressed closer.

Honestly, Emin thought this level of anger was a bit of an overkill. He had expected her to slap him, maybe twice— a good punch to the jaw even. Some amount of yelling about his inability to properly support any living creature other than himself (and even that was questionable at times, he’d admit).

But this even caught him a little off guard.

However, that didn't mean he wasn’t going to add fuel to the fire.

"I guess you shouldn't have been slacking on guard duty three months ago," he sneered, as he gripped her wrist in his and alleviated some of the pressure with little effort.

He took a little pride in being able to sneak around Ea in the Well House, and he was most certainly going to use that to get a rise out of her. He watched her lips curl back even farther as she actually gnashed her teeth at his neck.

His smirk only widened, "But hey we got hitched so everything is just peachy now, right?"

Emin was honestly surprised no one really questioned them with how fast they put things together. Then again they had some “divine help,” Talnah's wealthy family— and it was Talnah. If there was one thing he knew about his wife, it was that she was a hopeless romantic and would definitely have wanted to say her vows ASAP regardless of their current situation.

It only made Ea's glare harden, “Does this seem peachy to you?”

Her eyes had actually begun to glow disconcertingly and Emin was fully prepared to have his life source snatched from him at that moment.

But there was one thing standing between Ea and ripping his throat out.

"Ea please," Talnah's voice was pleading this time as her hand laid on Ea's shoulder, "Why don't you come inside?”

Ea grunted again and made no move to release him.

“I can make you some tea? Maybe some snacks too, you must be hungry."

"Even if you're not I am." Robin huffed and grabbed Ea by the braids, dragging her across the lawn. "She won't let us touch anything until you come inside, so you can save Emin's murder for another day."

Ea yanked her hair out of Robins hand and stared hard into her sister’s dark eyes. Talnah placed a small hand on her shoulder and Emin watched as their silent conversation unfolded. It always creeped him out when they did that.

It was sudden, the shift in Ea’s stance, her shoulders slumped and with one last look thrown Emin's way, she turned and walked towards the mansion.

Talnah let out a sigh of relief, gesturing for Robin to go ahead of her, then she turned to Emin.

“Please try to stay out of trouble with Ea,” she asked softly.

Gods he wished he could promise her he would.

*******

Emin had decided to go out with Jacar and Claire to do some celebrating and to catch up. He invited Talnah to come with them, but she declined saying she had some paperwork her parents needed her to look over. They were preparing her to take over Moonbright soon.

Whatever soon meant.

Talnah told them all to have fun and to call her if they needed anything. She also assured Emin that Ea would be keeping her company while she worked, so she wouldn’t get lonely.

The nice thing about living in a fancy town was the fancy pubs, and that's where having inlaws with money was also helpful. Of course he didn’t use a lot, just enough to have some fun.

“So, did Ea give you hell or did she let this one slide?” Claire asked, her mug clanging against the counter.

Emin finished off what little was left in his own cup. He felt fantastic. The ale made his insides all warm and fuzzy, plus the added perk of having friends around to keep pouring him more was always a welcomed feeling.

“Eh, you know how it goes— shetriedtokillme-- the usual,” he shrugged leaning against the counter. “You’re lucky she has a soft spot for you J-Dog. No one’s gonna fuck with you ever again.”

“Do people usually?” Jacar asked, nearly toppling off the stool-- which he totally didn’t have to climb onto—as he rose to get another round.

“You do have a tendency to make innkeepers irrationally angry with your presence alone,” Emin replied cheekily.

“I think you’re talking about yourself again.”

Claire chuckled, “When is he ever not?”

“Good point,” Jacar quipped as he passed around the newly full mugs, “but you’re right, I’d be lost without her. Did I tell you about this new piece she’s working on? It’s an epic in song form about all of our adventures but written as a fairytale, I’ve said she should have it published—”

The alcohol was clouding his brain and made it hard to pay attention, so he let his mind wander for a bit as Jacar prattled on.

He’d never tell her this, but Emin was glad Jacar had Ea. It helped him rest a bit easier at night knowing there was something willing to rip out any number of throats to protect him, and the fact that she always made Jacar a very happy man was a bonus as well.

They stayed in the pub for a few hours longer. Emin listened as Claire talked about Sembia and Jacar continued to gush about his travels with Ea and their songs. All the while, he thought about how he couldn’t wait for his kid to experience it all.

They’d go to Jacar’s performances, get to watch as his best friend and Ea danced around on the stage, tiny flames dancing all over them their nimble fingers played fantastical duets. Who would have guessed a lute and a bagpipe could harmonize so well together.

And then they’d visit Claire in Sembia for snowball fights, complete with forts and special enchantments to keep them warm so the game could last as long as possible.

His kid was going to have the best life.

They already had the best dad, and then who didn’t want a wide array of questionably related aunts and uncles on the side!

Jacar, Emin, and Claire— all at varying degrees of intoxication—helped each other wander back to the Vellaam estate. Technically his estate now, Emin supposed.

Well, he wasn’t getting used to that any time soon.

It seemed that just yesterday he was working as a waiter in big manors like that, trying to scrounge together enough tips to maybe get a room for the night. And now—now he was some noble’s husband.

Well, not just any noble.

After saying his ‘good nights' and ‘I love yous,’ Emin slipped into his room.

“Hey Princess! You gotta hear this joke Jacar just told me. It—”

Emin stopped abruptly as Talnah turned to face him. She had tears in her eyes, leaving soft tracks down her cheeks. He made his way over to her and wiped some of them away.

“What’s wrong?” he asked.

Talnah’s gaze drifted to the side, “Just something Ea said earlier…” she trailed off, obviously trying to hide her turmoil and failing miserably. “I didn’t think she would be happy for me, but I never expected this …” she said.

Then those big yellow eyes looked up at him like twin harvest moons and he felt a pang deep in his chest.

“I feel like there’s this rift between us now and I don’t know how to fix it,” she wrung her hands nervously. “I just wanted us all to be together again, but we’re now it’s like stepping on eggshells any time we talk.”

“Tal, I’m—”he began but stopped when she looked back down at the floor.

“What do I do?” she whispered softly.Emin wrapped his arms around Talnah and held her tightly. She nuzzled into his shoulder and sniffled.

“Hey, everything’s gonna be okay.” She grumbled, evidently unconvinced so he continued, “Ea loves you, like really loves you. I mean to the extent that it kinda weirds me out sometimes—” he was cut off by horn gently poking him in the face and the best glare Talnah could manage.

“Okay, okay, but really, the stuff you went through together? There’s no coming out of that without a serious kind of bond.”

“Yeah, I guess so,” She mumbled into his shirt.

“And our kid is gonna be so kick ass that even Ea won’t be able to deny it,” that earned him a laugh and he smiled at the sound, “It’s all gonna work out, alright?”

Emin pulled away and wiggled his ears, causing the large collection of earrings to jingle like bells on Candles Night. Talnah let out another giggle and finally smiled up at him once again.

He reached for her necklace, twisting the beads between his fingers, “Just call me the next time you need me, alright Tally?”

If this was the game Ea wanted to play, then he’d give her hell right back.

*******

“You should be keeping a closer eye on your wife,” Ea said, as she passed Emin.

He stopped and turned to look at her.

What was she talking about? Was something wrong?

“Is she alright?” Emin crossed the short distance between them and grabbed Ea’s shoulders,“Did something bad happen?”

Anything could happen at any moment.

It didn’t help that he started noticing little things: fatigue, lack of energy and appetite—all normal, he was assured, but it was hard to see Talnah so drained and pale.

Ea shook her head and leaned against the wall, “I caught her in the nursery again, casting spells all over the place, moving furniture...”

He gave her a confused look and she huffed, clearly annoyed, “Listen I get you’re not a midwife, but pregnant women can’t do that shit.”

Emin glared, “Talnah’s been worn out recently but it’s not like I’m going to lock her in her room or something—”

“No, you dumbass!” Ea yanked hard on one of his ears and yelled into it, “Strenuous work can hurt the baby!”

He pulled out of her grasp, “What?!”

“Yeah, so I’d go in there and explain it to her cause she’s too anxious to listen to me or Robin.”

Ea shoved him in the direction of the baby’s room and he relented, turning his head over his shoulder, “How the hell do you know all this?”

“This isn’t my first rodeo, cowboy…” she mumbled and gave one last harsh shove before rushing down the opposite end of the hall.

“Ea! What does that even mean?!”

She stopped, peaked around the corner of the next hall. He golden eyes glowed eerily in the dim light making her look even fucking creepier.

“I’ve done this before, how could I be more clear?”

“When??” The elf cocked his head and his brow furrowed in confusion. What the fuck was she talking about? He regretted asking when she pulled her head back behind the wall, “Ea!”

She peered at him again,“We have ... traditions back where I’m from that could help.”

“Where are you from again?” He didn’t trust the expression on her face, mischievous and degrading at the same time.

“None of your business,” she spat, then a grin crossed her face, “Gods I can’t imagine you being a dad.”

There was something about her words that rubbed him the wrong way. His mouth twitched a bit, “What do you mean by that?”

“Do you seriously think you’ve got what it takes? Maybe you should have thought about the implications of your work and general emotional state before getting into this mess.”

“It’s not a mess.”

“Oh really? You don’t know anything about childbirth, I can only assume you know nothing about children, never mind the responsibilities that go into being a noble,” Ea was slowly approaching from the end of the hall, sharp, white teeth bared, “and what happens when those earrings start going off day and night again? Is Talnah going to raise the little shit on her own, ‘cause you were barely here before—”

“I might be new to this but that doesn’t give you the right to—” He advanced on her too, actual rage coursing through him now, but she interrupted, unphased.

“If anything happens to her it’s your fault Emin, and you know that.”

“Well nothing is gonna happen!” He shouted, toe to toe with her now, “Then we’ll have an awesome kid and you’re just going to have to deal with it! Maybe you’re just jealous Ea! Jealous that we’re happy—that I make her happy!”

Ea stared up at him, face blank. He opened his mouth again, but a small hand gripped his shoulder. Emin whipped around, still fueled by the heated conversation only to find a frightened looking maid. behind him.

“Sir, please, lower your voice,” she said softly. “You’re disturbing Lady Vellaam.”

Ea shook her head and nudged him towards the nursery again before stalking back down the hall.

Emin couldn’t help but feel guilt start to eat away at his stomach. He nodded towards the maid and started walking away.

“I’m going to be the best dad,” he whispered to himself before pushing open the door.

*******

To say Emin was pissed would have been an understatement.

To say he was only mildly surprised would not have been.

Apparently those traditions Ea had spoken of were, for the most part, strange, violent, dangerous, or some combination of the three (although some of the calming tea’s Robin had helped her make were quite effective).

Honestly, Emin also couldn’t help but feel hurt. Even if Ea wasn’t happy about the kid, he didn’t think she’d put it all on Tal.

He’d talked to Robin about it. Emin didn’t talk to Robin often, but he figured this could be an opportunity for him to talk to his wife’s other sister.

Especially since she seemed to also be a little miffed about the situation. He didn’t want to drink. All he could do was rub his temples and growl about his frustrations.

"I mean, it is Ea. She's never exactly been nurturing," Robin shrugged. Even though she was giving reasons in Ea's favor—somewhat—she seemed tired.

"But to go this far?" Emin grumbled, lifting his head from his hands, "Come on Robin, I know she doesn't give a rat's ass about me, but Talnah? It's Talnah's kid too, and she's over the moon! Why can't Ea just let this be?"

"To be honest, I think she’s reacting as well as anyone could have expected, but I don't disagree with you…" Robin said softly. Her eyes darted towards the floor, "It isn't fair to Talnah, not to mention annoying for everyone else."

Emin nodded and rubbed his eyes. He was just upset and tired and, frankly, done with Ea's shit. His wife had the patience of a saint. He didn't know how Talnah did it without constantly wanting to throw her from the roof.

“Emin,” Robin snapped her fingers in front of his face.

“Sorry, I was fuming.”

She nodded and leveled him with a look, “She might be going about this the wrong way, but Ea does have a point.”

He gaped at her, “What?”

“Obviously neither you nor Talnah actually thought this through,” Robin tugged at the intricate braids in her hair, “Ea’s right, it was kind of irresponsible and you should make sure you’re actually prepared to give up the life you had before.”

Emin sighed, “It’s easy to forget, but I’ve been around for longer than you can comprehend.” He stood, leaving Robin on the garden bench and walked back towards the manor, “I know what I’m doing.”

******

He knew it was taking a long time to decide on a name, but when Talnah told him she’d already found one, Emin couldn’t help but be a little hurt.

Especially after he’d found out who chose it.

“So you named him.”

Ea seemed a little surprised by the elf’s presence. It was late, and they were probably the only two up right now. Slowly, the tiefling nodded, “Talnah asked me if I knew any names. I just gave her the first one that came to mind… didn’t think she’d actually want to use it.”

“Cascius…” Talnah said it was the name her parents had given their biological son.

Ea nodded and he stared at her blank expression before speaking again, “What does it mean?”

There was silence for a while. Despite Ea’s cool exterior, Emin could tell she was quickly trying to decide on what to tell him.

The only question was if he’d get the truth.

She shrugged after a moment, “No idea, it’s just a name.”

Liar.

But then again, Emin had never really been fully honest with Ea either. He wondered idly, who had more to hide.

“Well if you ever find out, let me know.”

Emin turned his back on her and contemplated the name again. It did roll off the tongue nicely and Talnah seems attached to it. Maybe it was because it was her brother’s old name, or maybe she was just happy Ea had willingly participated in their child’s life in some way.

Names were powerful. And with the little he knew about Ea, she did seem like the sort to have a knack for naming.

*******

Ea was muttering something about a goat.

Strangely enough, that was what stuck with him through all the chaos.

Gods would she never shut up?

Robin was currently doing her very best to keep him and Ea as far apart as possible, whipping her ankles with thorny brambles anytime she said something instigatory.

He made a mental note to thank her profusely after this was all over. There was little doubt that either he or Ea would start something if they got too close.

He was worried.

He was stressed.

He was afraid.

Completely frozen, all he could do was sit uselessly and hold Talnah’s hand while she shrieked into his ear.

Then, before he knew it, a cleric was placing a small squirming ball in his arms. The ball made tiny grunts and coos and the softest whimpers.

Everything he did was so... tiny.

“Mister Vellaam, can you hold him while I check over a few things?”

Emind nodded. It was all he could do as the cleric started their work.

Big yellow eyes looked up at him.

“Hey little guy,” he chuckled, finally finding his voice, “Woooooah look at your ears! They’re huge! And you have your Mama’s eyes… Just… I…. Look at you.”

He was even better than Emin could have ever imagined him being. In all of his years and millenia of being alive, Emin had never felt anything quite like this.

When the cleric stepped back and wiped their hands, he approached Talnah, placing the infant in her open arms.

He wondered if Ea was holding her breath too…

“He’s perfect, oh he’s more than perfect,” Talnah sniffled. “Hello my little Cascius, hello.”

“I guess I should say ‘welcome to being a dad’ Emin,” Robin said punching his shoulder.

His chest swelled as he leaned closer. He was a dad. He could feel the tears pricking at his own eyes as he reached for Cascius’ tiny hand. Everyone else parading over just seemed to disappear, even Jacar’s voice seemed like a distant sound. As far as he was concerned, it was just the three of them.

He didn’t notice that Ea had slipped from the room.

*******

The night air seemed sweeter than usual.

Emin decided it was probably the euphoria running through his veins. He’d been told to leave Talnah alone for a bit by some of the midwives, figuring that both she and Cas were exhausted and needed rest.

So here he was on the balcony drink in hand and the bottle close by. There wasn’t anything wrong with a little private celebration.

He had just taken another sip when he heard the balcony door open.

“I wondered where you ran off to,” Ea’s gruff voice cut the night air like a knife, “You weren’t with them.”

“You went to check?”

Nothing.

There was something unspoken in the air, it felt dangerous. Emin had been around long enough that he knew it was better not to ask, he did anyway,“Was she still awake? Did she talk to you?”

“Yes…to both.”

“Aaaaaand?”

Silence.

“You’re drunk.”

“Not yet.”

More silence.

Emin took another sip, “But if you want to believe I won’t remember what you say next, be my guest.”

He couldn’t help but grin as he saw Ea stand next to him and snatch the bottle. He could always get more.

She took a long drink before speaking.

“I can be his aunt, but I won’t be a good one,” she mumbled, and smacked him on the back of the head when she saw his smug smile.

Emin thought about her words for a moment, he hadn’t really expected anything less of Ea, so he shouldn’t be surprised.

“Did you see his feet?” he asked.

“Why would I care about his creepy little feet?”

He shrugged, “Tal said you mentioned something weird about having normal feet. Is it one of your things from home or—”

“Yeah,” Ea responded abruptly, her gaze transfixed on something far beyond anything he could see, “I noticed.”

Then she went silent again. Emin didn’t push the matter, there was a lot he didn’t understand about Ea or her past. He wondered if he’d said something he shouldn’t have, but continued to sip at his drink. She never said much to him anyway, but when she did it was usually shocking.

“Do you want to remember us?”

Emin sputtered on his drink, “Excuse me?”

“Do you want to remember us?” Ea’s voice was cool and even, eyes boring into Emin’s soul, “All of us will die before you, so will you want to remember us after we’re all gone, or will choose to forget?.”

Silence prevailed once more. Emin swirled his drink slowly, staring into the liquid as if looking for answers in the cup.

“Well maybe you,” Emin’s voice came out playful, a smirk gracing his lips, “But all of this? Yeah. I think it’d be worth remembering for the rest of my life. My son, Talnah, Jacar, Claire, Robin, Phryn and K’Thriss, Sildar, Korv, hell—even you are the closest thing I’ve ever had to a family ever. No one would want to forget how that feels.”

Turning his head, Emin searched Ea’s expression for any little clue to her thoughts. She was steadfastly expressionless, but she couldn’t quite hide the twitch of her lips into a small smile

Emin grinned back at her and raised his glass.

“To new adventures?”

“Eh, it’s a reason to drink.”

The silence prevailed as they toasted the future and stared up at the night sky. It was soon broken by Robin and Jacar pounding out on the balcony, angrily declaring that he always left the humans out when drinking.

So the four of them drank, and laughed, and loved, and everything was finally okay.

#dnd #Ea #Robin #Claire #Talnah #Jacar #Ea/Jacar #Talnah/Emin #Cascius #5e #homebrew #QnR #Que #Rue #OC #OCs

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luminouswhump · 5 years ago

Text

Unconventional career paths #2

Part One Here

cw for a slight mention of blood, nothing bad but just to be safe

Just when he thought he was safe, he saw a flash of metal and felt a cold blade across his neck. “Where do you think you’re going? Snooping around the castle like that?” said a voice that bore no signs of being understanding, no matter what Viresse’s answer would be.

“Am I right in assuming that you would not believe me if I said I just rescued your darling prince from certain death?” Viresse inched away from the sword at his throat, no doubt that those in the royal guard made sure their weapons were nice and sharp and ready to cut the throats of people like Viresse. The guards in question responded by politely yanking the elf up by his neatly braided hair. Viresse grunted in surprise and pain, earning him a laugh from the guard whose sword was still at his throat. “You would be correct indeed.” And with that he got roughly forced to his feet and dragged into the palace.

A secind guard took away his bow, dagger and bag. “No! Give those back to me!” Viresse struggled in the strong grip of a guard as he watched his most priced possessions being taken away from him. “Those are mine, you have no right to take them you bastards!” He lurged forward, hoping to break free from the hold, which failed. Instead, he got roughly forced to his knees again. “We have every right, you’re a prisoner now, you own nothing, are nothing and will get nothing unless it so pleases a royal. You should be glad we did not cut off your hand when we found you, and we still might do that right here and now. Do you understand?” He didn’t detect any lies in the statement, which scared him. The elf nodded and his involuntary tour of the palace dungeons continued>

Viresse never really expected to visit the royal palace, but he especially hated the way he was introduced to it at the moment. Guards had no sense of respect or politeness about them. Viresse had always been warned by the people in his village to stay away from royal guards, those red-cloaked bastards took pleasure in picking on the less fortunate. Unfortunately for Viresse, he belonged to that category and had been found in an area of the palace where he shouldn’t have been in the first place. He was dragged through long hallways, the dim light shed by the few torches present cast ominous looking shadows on the stone tunnels. Viresse was good at navigating through the dense woods of the kingdom, he was afraid he could not say the same about the underground dungeons of the royal palace. The tunnels seemed to go on forever, their footsteps and sounds of scared and uncomfortable prisoners echoing around him. The guards finally stopped in front of an empty cell, opened it and roughly shoved Viresse inside. He barely had enough time to catch himself as he fell onto the rough stone floor. Just as quickly as he’d been pushed, a guard was on him again, shackling his wrists to the wall. A well placed punch to the gut had Viresse crumpling to his knees, his arms stretched above him. He spat an elfish curse word at one of the guards. “Is this what I get as a thanks for saving your prince his ass?! Ask him! Check up on him right now! He’ll confirm it for you, you oaf!” Despite being human,the guard spoke elfish. He had been on his way out but turned on his heels, drew his sword and placed it against Viresse’s throat. Viresse gulped at the malicious intent he could see in this man’s eyes. The guard grinned, sending a shiver down the elf’s spine.

“Listen here you pointy eared little shit, I don’t care who you think you are or who you might have saved. Nobody is going to bother prince A'elin about you. You’re simply not worth the trouble. I’d suggest you quickly learn to shut up unless spoken to and learn to take orders. It’d be in your best interest, trust me.” He dragged his sword across Viresse’s cheek, leaving a bleeding gash. Viresse closed his eyes and breathed heavily, hissing in pain but managing to not make a sound. The guard patted his cheek in something that could have been a friendly gesture but definitely wasn’t. Viresse jerked his head away, glaring at the human. “Now I’d sit tight if I were you, and get ready to confess your crimes.” The guard stood up and promptly left the cell, laughing with the others as if Viresse’s imprisonment were an hilarious joke.

As soon as the echoing footsteps were no longer audible, Viresse began to pull on the chains, frustration finally overflowing inside him. He exclaimed in anger at how weak he felt. He never should have helped that stupid prince. The sounds of clanging metal filled his cell, but all he ended up with were strained muscles. He let his head slump, the cut on his cheek throbbing. Viresse couldn’t stand feeling trapped, especially if it was unjust. What he wouldn’t give to shoot those asshole guards in the leg… They’d taken his bow, his bag and his dagger, he felt naked without those. Hours passed and Viresse could feel his limbs start to ache from the position he was in. At one point he must have dozed off since he found himself startled awake at the sound of his cell door being opened. A hooded figure entered his cell, closing the door behind him and approaching Viresse without saying a word. The figure leaned downwards, his face illuminated by a ray if moonlight. Viresse’s heart started racing at the sight. Their face was unnaturally pale, almost translucent, covered in scar tissue on one side, the eyes seemed to be void of irises instead they were completely black. The creature smiled and Viresse could swear he could see sharp teeth and an oddly coloured tongue. The fugure pushed back the hood that had covered their face, revealing a set of horns which curled along their scalp before ending in a point that pointed upwards. Viresse tried to jump backwards but couldn’t, stopped by the hard, cold, stone wall behind him. “Wha-what are you and and what do you want from me?!” There was no point in trying to hide his fear, he knew that much. The creature didn’t answer, they merely reached out to Viresses face with clawed hands. Viresse started to panic “no no no no, stay away!” he struggled against his chains but to no avail. The sharp looking nails grazed Viresse’s face, who was unable to turn his head away. The creature ran their nails across his face and shivers ran their way across Viresse’s entire body. Viresse screamed as suddenly the creature grabbed his head in both hands and started to chant in a language he didn’t speak. “No! Let go of me you horned fucker!” Viresse thrashed, desperate wanting to get away from whatever it was that was in front of him.

Suddenly pain exploded across his head, washing over him through the hands of the demon, he thought now it must be a demon. Viresse screamed in pain, his voice bouncing off of the stone walls of his prison. He tried desperately to free himself but couldn’t get away from the burning hands that clasped his head. “Please!” He managed to croak out through gritted teeth. “Let me go! I did nothing to deserve this please!” His begging fell on deaf ears, the pain increased and Viresse couldn’t help but let out a howl of pain. “What do you want?! Fuck!” A raspy voice boomed through the room, seeming to eminate from nowhere. “You are being judged for your crimes, we are searching your mind for your past failures, I am afraid there are quite many.” Viresse saw memories flash before his eyes. His best friend Yorik and him throwing pebbles from trees at unsuspecting guards, Viresse stealing a loaf of bread for his sick grandfather, his mother hurrying him away from a group of guards that appeared around the corner. His father and mother discussing in hushed voices how they were going to cover taxes. His grandmother telling him stories about the old days when a just and righteous queen ruled the lands. People of noble descent laughing and pointing at Viresse as he helped his father push an old cart with what little harvest they had left to the market. It then shifted to scenes that Viresse hadn’t been a part of.Yorik’s sister being surrounded by humans of noble descent, Yorik sprinting desperately towards them, trying to drag the humans away from his crying little sister. Yorik dragged away by guards, covered in dirt. But his sister was safe. Yorik in meetings with shady figures, hunched over maps. Cloaked figures sprinting through the night, leaving an estate with bloodied knives. Yorik carried away in chains, hands blood which Viresse somehow knew belonged to some royal offical. The scenes shifted once more, to a letter in Yorik’s handwriting, he couldn’t make out what it said but it had been addressed to Viresse. The voice once more filled the room. “You have been found guilty for aiding and conspiring with a member of an illegal assassin’s guild. For this you will be punished.” Viresse’s life had been tainted by the injustice caused by royal rule and now it appeared they saw fit to torture him for that. The pain increased, spreading throughout his body, he wanted to run, to be anywhere but here. He could hear someone screaming in agony before realizing that it was his own voice. He tried to reason with the creature, to tell them that they had it wrong, he’d never wanted Yorik to do what he’d done, he just wanted to be left alone, he just wanted to go home. The pain stopped suddenly, the creature stood up and left, leaving Viresse gasping for breath in his chains, arms outstretched above his head, blood slowly leaking from his nose, his vision swimming and his entire body drained and exhausted.

They couldn’t do this to him, he wasn’t part of the assassin’s guild, he had never killed anyone! A'elin would have to safe him, the prince had to. Please.

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fal-carrington · 6 years ago

Text

Pairing: KamilahxMc

Disclaimer: The characters belongs to PB

Pt.1 Pt.2 // Back To You Sequel

Prompt: Ending her relationship with Scott was easy, standing up before her authoritarian and manipulating father was also easy. In this new chapter of her life Hayley must learn that marrying Kamilah also meant marrying Ahmanet Financial and with that comes with all the attention and pursuit of the media as a new sociliate married to one of America's most powerful women. When one day a pipe causes a flood in her old apartment, her former housemate and best friend needs a place to stay. Lily ends up moving to Kamilah's penthouse, suddenly privacy becomes something precious and rare, clothes and food pop up around the house and one of Kamilah's precious furniture appears accidentally broken. Now Hayley has to deal with this new challenge of having her best friend in the same house with her wife and dealing with the new life of being the new sociliate of New York.

Tag list: @ilovekamilahsayeed @zoe6111 @carolcunha7 @jellymonster @reginasayeed @gavryllo

A/N: You guys asked so there is

Hayley Pov

"What do you think you're doing here, Scott?" Hayley looked at both her parents for answers. Her mother tried to keep her calm to not cause a scene in the restaurant, while her father remained calm as the meeting with Scott had not shaken him.

"Sit down, Hayley. Everyone is looking.” Robert said taking a sip of his glass of red wine. Hayley clenched her fists furiously, thinking how she was stupid enough to believe this was just a family dinner when it was actually an excuse to get her back to Scott.

"Hell no." She bit her lips and turned to leave, But she only managed to take a few steps before her father's voice reached her ears again, stronger than ever.

"I would not leave the restaurant if I were you. Do you know that important meeting your wife is in? The clients are my associates, and it would be a waste of a good deal with Ahmanet Financial if I gave them a call and they left. You want this? Do you want her to lose a millionaire contract?"

He used the perfect excuse for Kamilah not to show up. He used his best resources to keep her from coming here. Reluctant and disgusted, Hayley sat in the chair facing Scott.

"Honey, we just want to talk." Her mother said touching her hand lightly.

"Are you with him now, Mother? I thought you told me to be happy with who I loved.” Hayley sighed, staring at the plate on the table. Her mom had come so easily back to his side, she did not know why she was still surprised by this whole situation.

"I'm not on anyone's side, Hayley. I just want us to be a family. No more fighting, no more silly arguments.” She scolded her.

"So Kamilah should be here and not Scott," Hayley said firmly looking deep into her father's eyes. She saw his lips contract and as he rolled his eyes only the mention of the name. "She's part of this family as much as I am."

"Stop acting like a child. This madness you call marriage will not last. Her relationship with you did not last before, it was an impulsive and childish act to have married her. Just the actions of a teenager.” Robert said.

"I'm a grown woman who knows my actions well and being married to her was one of the best things I've ever done. Not that you'll ever understand, but she makes me happy.” Hayley retorted.

"Now you two come. We came here to just talk and stop that immaturity of you once and for all.” Her mother looked at both of them.

"And what is Scott doing here then?" Hayley gestured angrily to the one sitting opposite at her at the table watching the heated argument.

"I'm glad you finally asked a decent question." Robert said. "We invite Scott to dine with us because he is important to us and we have news."

"Wait, wait. So any guy you hired and ordered to marry me in London and who I spent years believing was the one guy in my life while I was being cheated on by you guys is more important than my wife ?! What the hell?” Hayley paused, looking at both of them.

"You know I love Kamilah, she's like a daughter to me. Though I think she's too old for you, but we've lived with Scott for a long time, too.” Her mother said.

Hayley rolled her eyes.

"...And I care about you, Hayley. I honestly do. I would do anything to get our relationship back. You meant so much to me, it still means.” He said with those sad eyes, Hayley huffed indignantly not believing a word. False.

"Tell that to someone who cares."

"Regardless of our disagreements over your love life and your life choices, I'm happy with the news that my friends at the Hospital bring. They say you are a formidable doctor, of course I did expect you to be, you’re my daughter.” Robert continued his lewdness too proud to see the problem in front of him. "Tell her, son. Tell her the news we bring.” Robert touched Scott's shoulder.

"Me and your dad talked and we arranged this dinner to tell you that I'll be moving to New York. I got a place at Mount Sinai Hospital, Hayley. We're going to work together, is not it great? "He smiled excitedly.

"You—What?" Hayley stared indignantly.

Kamilah's Penthouse

"No, no. This is wrong. That's very wrong,” Hayley said as she paced the apartment. Kamilah sat quietly across the room, her notebook on the table. She had not said a word as Hayley told her what had happened that night. "They deceived me, made me think they wanted to make amends when in fact they're throwing Scott at me again!" She ran her hands exasperated in her blond hair, glanced at Kamilah, and noticed that she was silent with her eyes turned to the window.

"Kam?" Hayley called her.

No response.

“Kamilah?” She tried again.

"... I suppose it makes sense. Your parents never supported our relationship, they were expected to get Scott back into your life, "she said quietly. Hayley stopped looking at her, she was quiet and with a look that Hayley knew well.

"Babe? Are you okay?” Hayley approached slowly, still studying her features.

"It was a long meeting." Kamilah gave a weak smile in return. "I have to make some calls. You must be tired, it's been a long day. I'll see you in the bedroom, okay?” Kamilah got up and left the room so fast she did not get a chance to say anything more.

What she didn’t know was what actully was happening.

Kamilah pov.

She could feel him, he was getting closer and closer. Even in her dreams, she was not strong enough, strong enough to stop him. Strong enough to keep him from harming anyone she loved. Someone she could not bear to lose, and he knew it. He always knew when she was loving someone when a new person had come into her life. He ruined everything, was all he knew to do for centuries.

Maybe that was her karma after so many bad things she had done in her life. So many people she had killed and taken the blood. Maybe her karma would always lose someone to him. And if there really was a god, he would not allow such atrocity to happen, would not allow more lives to be taken by him. But he would never answer her call, ever.

She ran barefoot through the dark forest, what was her suit were now only the remains of a black jacket and a bloodstained white shirt, even with her inhuman speed, she was not fast enough to run from him, she knew that.

"Kamilah?" That familiar voice called out. Kamilah stopped halfway, looking back, seeing that shadow through the trees. Him. She could see the dark smile on his face and the laughter forming in his throat.

Her feet ran again, she needed to find Adrian and Hayley. Where was she? She needed to protect the only thing that mattered in her life, the only thing she could not live through. Her wife.

But before she could take another step, she nearly tripped over her own feet as she saw a body in front of her. A body on the forest floor among the leaves of an old oak tree. It was Hayley, her throat was torn. Kamilah's blood froze, for an instant, she thought she was hallucinating. She thought she was seeing things, but Hayley was so real. The first steps were hesitant before she fell to the floor beside her body, sobbing and gripping the cold, dead body of her wife.

"No, no! Please... Please, Hayley.” She touched Hayley's cold cheeks hoping that by some miracle, she would open those gorgeous green eyes. But that would not happen, she felt her chest tight and the lack of air was eminent, instead of the sadness the anger had filled with fervor. As Kamilah hugged her wife's dead body, something as fast as a bullet pushed her away from the one thing she loved.

Before Kamilah could respond, she was stuck against the oak tree. Hanging by the neck with Gaius's hands tightening her throat. Gaius's somber smile had returned, and his blue eyes glowed with malice. Kamilah was staring at Hayley's body before turning her eyes to the monster in front of her.

"Why are you running my queen?" That terrible voice sounded through the trees.

That night Kamilah opened her eyes widened with fear, sitting up in bed hurrying, gasping for breath, red eyes focused on her bedroom door. When she realized there was no apparent threat at that moment, she ran her hand over her face and hair, leaning against the head of the bed and taking time to calm down.

Her eyes turned to Hayley, the first thing she thought of then. The one thing she wanted to keep safe. Hayley slept in deep sleep beside her on the bed, even with her sudden awakening, that had not awakened her. Soon Kamilah thought the fact that the girl spent hours on shifts at the hospital made her enjoy a good night's sleep and she would not wake up so easily.

Kamilah touched her back and kissed her hair gently. She got up and searched for her black robe that was on an armchair in the corner of the room. Kamilah dressed him and left the room quietly.

She found herself with a bottle of whiskey waiting for her at her bar. She prepared a quick cocktail and leaned over the kitchen counter, staring at the walls bitterly, her eyes went to the ring on her finger, she removed the ring and began to look it. How such a small thing carried so great a significance and how it took decades before she met someone who made her want such a commitment. She never thought she'd feel it again and that Hayley would give her a second chance.

At that moment the front door opened silently revealing a not-so-sober Lily carrying her boots into her hands and a drunken smile that soon changed as she came face to face with the CEO in the kitchen.

"Jesus, Kamilah! You scared the hell out of me now” She touched her own chest trying to keep her voice down.

"You really should be scared. You have been out all night.” Kamilah said softly still with her ring in her hands.

"And why the hell are you standing there drinking in the dark? Is this part of the CEO's manual? Drink contemplating your own existence in the dark? "

"Very funny, Lily." Kamilah returned her ring to its proper place. She would not tell Lily that she had something so simple as a nightmare. She was not in the mood to listen to gamer jokes at that moment. "I just wanted to drink it now."

"And you could not turn the lights on?"

"I did not want to wake my wife.”

“So... How was the dinner with your family?”

Kamilah cursed under her breath.

“Not so well I see” Lily said. “Don’t worry about her parents, they don’t like anybody. It’s not personal.”

“I’m not trying to impress them. I don’t need them to approve our relationship, if I have Hayley’s love that’s all that I need.” Kamilah said.

“Well... You’re a big softie under this ice exterior, hm?” Lily laughed taking a ice gaze from Kamilah.

“You should go to bed, I'll do the same” Kamilah said, drinking the rest of her drink and disappearing into her office before Lily could say anything else. She pulled her cell phone off the desk and dialed Adrian's number. "Adrian? We need to talk. Something happened."

That dream was a warning, she knew it, she knew it could only mean one thing. He was back.

#choices you play #bloodbound #kamilah sayeed #mc x kamilah

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silavut · 4 years ago

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The Cabin

Over the years, I had started writing many stories; some were to potentially become books, others short stories. Having lost nearly everything, I have very few bits left from what I originally had. Here is one I somehow scavenged from the depths of lost things. I’m still debating whether I should continue this one, as I don’t feel it’s really all that great. However, I’m posting it here for fun.

The rain pounded on the roof of the old, dark, decaying cabin in the deepest part of the woods.

Inhabiting the cabin were five drifters, unsuspecting of the dangers in the forest in which they travel this night. The night was moonless, the forest dark and seemingly impenetrable, and the cabin was lit by only a single candle. The cabin was completely noiseless except for the breathing of the drifters who were listening to the unnatural sounds of the forest, quivering with fear. One of the drifters slowly turned her head just in time to see the candleflame flare and extinguish without a sound. The others, unknowing of what happened, started to feel around for the one who was near the candle, but there was no trace of her. Without warning, the door slammed open letting the strong wind and heavy rain pound into the cabin.

In the doorway appeared a large, shadowed, unmoving figure. One of the remaining four drifters barely made his way to the door to begin to close it, but he was stopped by the others to turn around. The figure was now in the cabin standing beside the now flaring candle. Since the drifter no longer had a grip on the door it slammed shut with barely any effort against the wind and rain. Another of the drifters began to crawl to the flaring candle to extinguish it, for he thought that would vanquish the figure. There was something stopping him, though, because he could not move more than a few inches; they could all move back near the door, but not forward to the candle.

Slowly drifting across the room toward the drifters (no pun intended), the figure appeared to turn and drift through the wall into the next room . . . wait! what next room? The drifters suddenly realized there are no other rooms in this cabin besides the one they're in!

Now there were footsteps crossing the floor, coming from the other side of the room. The candle was no longer flaring, but the flame was now black. Following the footsteps came the sound of a whispering voice that was barely noticeable. The footsteps stopped at the candle as did the whispering voice. Just then the drifting figure reappeared in the room without being noticed and the footsteps turned toward the figure, as did the voice.

After a few moments of silence, the exact time is unknown, the footsteps and voice merged with the figure, which made a whole being. The figure was now recognizable as another drifter, but from where?

There have been stories of this one, but the most common is that it was a night much like the current one and he wasn't watching where he was going. Because he couldn't see anything and wasn't paying attention, he fell into a great ravine, about 125 feet all the way down and supposedly 300 or so feet across. No one ever really knew what happened, but his body was found at the bottom of the ravine I tell you about.

Some say he was murdered, pushed off the edge of the ravine by a forest native who disappeared afterward. Others say he committed suicide, jumped off the ravine because he didn't want to live anymore. Still, the most common story is the one above, the one I first mentioned. They say that the ravine is still there hidden by a strange mist eminating from an untold source.

The new drifter stood there for quite a while, staring at the remaining four of the five drifters. Before anyone could say or do anything they all heard a dull thud behind them. When they all turned around, the drifter still staring, there was the missing drifter. She had materialized from nothing, or so it seemed.

She told her version of what happened and where she was when she disappeared. Apparently when the candle flared the first time it engulfed her and teleported, or transported -- which ever you prefer -- her to another plane. It was a dark and scary place with strange noises unheard of, screams of pain and, oddly enough, pleasure. There were creatures of unspeakable nature, things no one ever dared to dream. In the end, she saw one great vision that she was to remember and tell others about; the merging of this world and the next.

No one knew it yet, including themselves, but the drifters taking refuge in the old, dreary cabin on that dark and stormy night were the ones destined to save the world. They have powers that they do not yet understand, some which have not been discovered, but they will when the time was right . . . and the time is right.

The drifters had been awake all night, not only because of the performance that night, but also because the wind and rain kept them awake with their incessant whining and pounding. Looking outside, one of the drifters noticed the sun was beginning to rise. Early that morning, maybe two or three hours ago, the wind and rain had let up and were almost stopped. Another drifter got up to take a look for herself, and another, and another until all five were standing at the door.

The door was open and the morning air was cool and refreshing. They began to drift outside, just outside the door, to take a look around. Trees and bushes were destroyed by the harsh wind and hammering rain; there was brush scattered everywhere, possibly for miles, considering this forest is the largest in the land. They dared not venture farther into the uncharted wilderness for fear of losing themselves. The best thing to do was to stick around the cabin.

After a few minutes of standing outside and letting the soft rain fall on them, the drifters decided to reenter the cabin and gather their things, for they were going to drift again. First, though, they decided to take a look around for a lake or stream of some sort to wash up in, but found nothing except muddy, swamp-like ground and the destroyed vegetation.

During this time, one of the drifters decided he was going to take a nap while the others had their own fun. When he began to shut his eyes he saw something from the corner of his left eye. The south wall was bare, though, so there couldn't be anything there, or could there?

The others entered, ready with their packs, when they saw him. His eyes were wide open staring at something on the south wall, his skin had become pale, it's almost as if he'd seen a freak accident.

#The Cabin #Story #Short Story #Horror #Thriller #Unfinished

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vantelieth-blog · 7 years ago

Photo

Prologue Final Chapter: My Gift to You

The sun shone brightly above the clear morning sky. Fluttering butterflies and chirping birds gathered before the backyard of a grand stone temple in a thriving city. One man alone bode his time in its garden, wearing a modest apron over his ornate robes. He hummed complacently, singing along with nature as he tended to the various flowers of the garden with a watering can.

“Greetings, Astot,” a relaxed voice spoke from the shadow of a tree behind the man—Astot. “Have you summoned me?”

Astot smiled as the voice reached his ears, turning to greet a long departed friend. “Oh, dear Vox, how I have longed to see you!”

The woman rewarded Astot's smile with one of her own, her gentle violet eyes providing him a hint of comfort. She was a beautiful woman, wearing a fur-wrapped black dress to complement her brownish skin. Long black hair framed her delicate face. Despite the presence of four decorated black horns protruding from her head, she exuded an air of wisdom and solitude. She was known as Vox, the Sanctuary Gatekeeper. It was her belief that only in death could the Chariots unite with their creator, and so she had retired to a solitary life, awaiting the end of her undying existence.

“How fares the other Chariots, my old friend?” Vox asked.

Astot's smile had briefly lowered at the mention of the Chariots. “They are quite well,” he answered with another smile. “Rather, I should say it is all as you foretold.”

Vox chuckled with a wide grin. “Then Regnal has at last betrayed you?”

“So he has; so he has. 'Tis why I was meaning to summon you sooner.”

Astot followed Vox as she strolled to the back of a fountain in the middle of the yard to observe the sky. “So, then… where has he gone?” she asked.

“Rest assured, he is dealt with for now; but 'tis not to say my summons were wasted on you. I would welcome you what I pray you will see as your new home. Welcome, Vox, to Yeon, the city of the Chariots.”

The city of Yeon, once a human civilization untouched by the Scourge, had become home to the Chariots and the humans who worshiped them as gods. In the days prior to the arrival of Constius, Yeon's inhabitants delved into arcane research, seeking a means to command the power of the Scourge. The Chariots had made good use of the pentagram in their temple of worship, a device that could amplify a tainted's power. Astot in particular had used it to widen his influence, and with that he had attempted to summon the faraway Vox along with the other Chariots. He could only lament that she had not arrived sooner. His link to the city would allow him to return to it within an instant no matter his distance, as he had done before after his final meeting with the Blade of Humanity.

“Do the humans serve you?” Vox asked. “Twould explain why my presence is not feared.”

“I now have many reasons to be grateful of Constius,” Astot expressed. “I pray he will not leave us after all that has happened. Speaking of which… you may both come forward, Albus, Cygna.” Astot peered over the fountain and waved at the two new arrivals.

Cygna acknowledged Astot with a slow nod. She wore an eyepatch over her left eye, underneath which was a curious black marking. Her long, closed black vest concealed all but the boots of her restored legs.

“How fares Albus?” Astot asked.

Without a word, Cygna drew attention to a large hound standing behind her. Gentle black flames comprised his body, leaving only his glowing yellow eyes to distinguish him as a living being. Albus stepped forward with a prominent limp, having yet to grow accustomed to his new body.

“You look like Regnal,” Vox remarked with a frown.

“Forsooth he does,” Astot added, “but 'tis pleasing to see he has regained his form. 'Tis thanks to him we had conquered Regnal.”

Vox gave Astot a curious look. “You nigh speak as though Regnal has died.”

“We have much to discuss in regards to Regnal. Constius and I, along with Albus, did battle with him in a land known as the Garden of Mercy. Albus was wounded and later consumed by him. Constius and I did our best to survive, but t'was a battle which may well have lasted eternally were it not for the miracle of Albus' spirit. Though Regnal claimed his body, he strangely could not void his will. What you see before you is Albus in command of Regnal's body and power.“

“I cannot contain him forever,” Albus said. “I cannot even manage to free my own brother.”

“But you did manage to cease the spread of Regnal's corruption within Cygna, once she had returned to us,” Astot assured. “She would now be as a tainted if not for your knowledge.”

“I can still feel the power of the Scourge inside me,” Cygna sighed. “I guess I can't really say I'm much different from all of you now.”

Astot laughed. “But rejoice, for you have gained immortality! And has a being ever existed both a Halian and a tainted?” he gave Cygna a more serious expression. “But even so, what will you do now?”

“I can't just return home with this body of mine. I'll travel the world alone under a new perspective.”

Astot smiled kindly upon her. “'Tis a shame. You would have made a worthy Chariot.”

“Would you object to my joining you Chariots?” Albus asked.

“You need only answer this one question, Albus: how do you propose we earn the audience of our creator?”

Albus growled. “Do you jape? We need only look for him.”

Astot lifted an eyebrow. “Can a divine entity be sought as any mortal man?”

Albus responded after a moment of silence, “Divinity—tis' naught without the eyes of its witness. And if we may bear witness to it with worldly eyes, surely can we venture to it with worldly bodies.”

“Who are you to propose such incongruity?”

Albus blinked slowly before he solemnly responded, “I am Albus, a mere wayfarer then and now. I do not await an answer—I seek it out believing naught to be beyond my reach.”

“You would aside such freedom to serve the will of our creator?”

“I would agree only to honor a small favor. I am bound by naught but the shackles I place upon myself.”

Astot nodded in respect of those words, not alike that which he preached to his fellow Chariots. “You do not cease to amuse me, hound. Very well, I name you on behalf of your spirit alone. You will henceforth be as Albus, the Defiant Guardian.”

“I welcome you as a Chariot, my brother in arms!” Constius announced from the roof of the temple.

“'Tis pleasing to hear such ardent words from you, Constius,” Astot smiled. “Can I take them to mean you will not abandon us?”

“You will learn to refrain your tongue,” Constius spat before turning away. “I will watch over Albus 'till the day of Regnal's resurrection… and I will dominate him for having stamped upon my pride. Your so-called creator is of no concern to me. That is all.”

Vox turned to Astot as Constius shamefully walked away. “What did you seek?” she asked.

“We sought enlightenment from the ruined city of the Halian's forefathers, Old Halia. T'was there the Halians held captive a human with the power of the Scourge; she was known as the Blade of Humanity. Alas, I was hindered by Regnal's betrayal and could not make the journey there myself in time. I had arrived to see naught remaining of Old Halia or the Blade of Humanity. Ne'er will I know what the Halians truly sought, nor their purpose of protecting their homeland of old. Mayhap we had all played our parts in their plot all along.”

“If Regnal was so bold and presented such a threat, then has Inguis abandoned us as well?”

“To be spoken of by you leaves me very blithe indeed,” the voice of Inguis resounded in the sky. “So much so that I wish you look upon me in all my cowardly glory.”

A void parted the skies in front of the sun, shrouding the yard underneath its shadow, and the head of Inguis peered down from its opening. The quaint sounds of nature were obscured before the screams of the humans comprising his necklace.

“I am pleased you have at last returned, Inguis,” Astot spoke in a lower tone. “Have you come with tales of your tumultuous journey?”

As Astot and Inguis glared upon one another, Inguis broke the tension with a muffled laugh. “Have I come timely enough to hear tales of your own journey? No, you need not answer; I had witnessed every moment of it in the safety of my sanctuary.”

“As you could not—or rather, did not wish—to aid us, I cannot say what has become of our dear friend.” No matter his effort, Astot could not bring himself to speak her name. “Is this what you had wanted all along?”

“T'was only to maintain a fair count of Halians in this world. To compare our knowledge of the Scourge to their own is to compare a newborn infant to an eminent sage. Why not for now leave the Halians be and ascertain our creator through observation?”

Astot managed a subtle smile of amusement. “What irony that such words slip the tongue of a destroyer.”

Inguis leaned further from his void. “Will you not forgive that I did not save her?”

“You have done naught to require my forgiveness. I cast blame upon my own impotence.” Astot approached a small stone monument standing in front of the fountain, amidst a gathering of flora. “I do not believe she is lost, Inguis.”

“Then what has become of her?” Inguis asked.

Astot kneeled before the monument erected in her honor. “She will conquer her madness and be free once more, because I have faith; that is all I can say of her fate. She cherished mankind unlike any other tainted. And I do swear there will be no human slain in the name of our creator for as long as we are apart. 'Tis my greatest offering in honor of your memory, Enlenia.”

“If I may, Astot… who is Enlenia?” Vox carefully asked.

“I knew her as Enlenia, the Painted Woman. She was—”

But Astot suddenly found himself choking on his words. His vision blurred as warm liquid trickled from his eyes and down his cheeks, and finally unto the flowers beneath him.

“What is this?” Astot murmured while running a finger down his cheek. And upon his realization, he laughed hysterically. “Tears!” he exclaimed. “Goodness! Look at this, all of you! A TAINTED is weeping! So this is what it is to lose someone dear!”

But just as suddenly, his laughter became cries of sorrow. As Astot hopelessly sank his head before the monument, the others surrounded him in silence.

“My faith... keep me strong,” he cried.

Enlenia would not return in the passing of many centuries. But not once had Astot abandoned his faith in the day they would meet once more.

#iwrite #story #novel #poem #poetry #fantasy #scifi #book #literature #original #writing #abstract #EPWChapters #tragedy

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il--dottore · 8 years ago

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The Hand That Feeds [part I]

Giovanni didn’t like going into an interrogation with something bothersome on his mind. Made things messy, and, needless to say, more uncomfortable for the unfortunate subject.

Apparently they’d discovered a rogue Exterminator out in the desert whom they’d believed to be long dead. A killjoy who went by “Midnight Massacre” these days. Giovanni had certainly never heard of him, but rather enjoyed the idea of a session or two with a former Exxie. Except that when he asked for Midnight’s file, he was rebuffed in some roundabout way, informed that Midnight hadn’t even been captured yet. He would be working with a potential accomplice, someone who had been in contact with Midnight from inside the City. When he’d glanced over the file they’d handed him instead, Giovanni had almost slipped it into the trash.

Almost.

He was offended, of course. It seemed he was always passed the small fry, the underlings, the ones who broke in an hour over one little fingernail. He suspected the Chief Exterminator certainly had his pick of the big fish, and passed Giovanni the scraps and leftovers. Giovanni was more than impatient with the way the company seemed to underestimate him. Not that he was in a position to complain lately. Not that that would really stop him.

Anyway–he’d slipped the file into his briefcase on a last thought, sweeping out of the office and throwing some withering glances and barks to clear his path down the hall. He was in a foul mood, now, indeed. But as he brooded in the elevator, in the car, he let some small corner of his mind return to the file and roll it around a little.

Giovanni recognized the name. He had recently requested a list of the bottom twenty or so in the graduating class at the Academy, and skimmed them over briefly. He didn’t think he’d actually remember any names, but this one stood out solely because it had belonged to one of the lowest scores, with the notes “fails to follow orders; fails to understand company policies; fails to show adequate respect for authority.” He’d paused on that file, his interest caught for one moment.

Marcos Silvas.

Giovanni would rather cut his tongue out than admit it at the moment, but as he pulled around back of the Detainment Center, his interest was piqued again.

---

Within the center, in a square room tucked away securely somewhere in the maze of whitewashed corridors and concrete floors, Marcos sat in tense silence. He’d received a summons after his last class of the day, cancelling his scheduled shadow session and directing him instead to his least favorite building. There was virtually no information provided, which wasn’t unusual, and he’d changed into white scrubs and allowed himself to be led to an interrogation room without asking a single question. The chair was bolted to the floor; thick nylon straps secured his wrists and ankles. He thought he was probably underground, but without windows he had no way of knowing.

Had he done something wrong? The past few weeks had been fairly uneventful, and though he had plenty of time to search his mind, he couldn’t put his finger on anything that could justify another encounter with Lindsey. Or maybe it was more general, like when he’d been in the same room as that other poor guy, the one being institutionalized. A warning?

The room was strange, too. Not empty, like the last time he’d been punished, and larger than seemed strictly necessary. The door stood centered and severe fifteen feet in front of him, its keypad lock blinking red. In the corner to the left was a large bucket, its grey plastic somehow unnerving. Marcos kept glancing back to it, and to the drain set into the floor between his feet. There was a counter as well, along the wall directly behind him. He’d seen it on his way in, the polished chrome currently bare; now he resisted the urge to crane his neck around for another look.

He took a breath, trying to tamp down the anxiety, his hands clenched into fists. They’d had that section on interrogation recently. Maybe this was some sort of messed up training thing. He knew they’d given up on him as far as the more intellectual subjects went; maybe they were just taking a more intensive tack on physical skills. Yeah. It was probably just training.

---

Giovanni inhaled deeply when he stopped in front of the door. The sterile white halls and the chrome of the elevator had been only blurs in his agitated state. He needed to slow down, completely collect himself. He folded his emotions and his turbulent thoughts and put them neatly away before sliding his card through the reader and pushing the door open.

A small guard of 3 draculoids followed him inside, less for security and more for assistance, should he need it. Giovanni made his way immediately to the counter in the back, careful not to look directly at the figure in the chair but taking glimpses in his peripheral. He hadn’t thought to glance over Silvas’s physical stats, but the young man was absolutely scrawny. Why don’t I just take him out back by the dumpsters and toss him around a little, no need to take up a whole interrogation room, he thought bitterly, and then That’s good, I’ll use that next meeting–

He made no loud show of opening his briefcase and carefully choosing a few items to lay out on the clean white linen on the counter, but he didn’t need to. It was so quiet in the room as to hear each tiny metallic clink and scrape. He finished for the moment and moved back around Marcos’s chair, signaling for one of the dracs to drag an extra chair over and pointing to a spot a few feet in front of Marcos. Giovanni moved with controlled ease, filling the room without speech or bravado. It was something of a talent. He sank down into the chair as if this sterile white room were his living room.

“Mr. Silvas, my name is Dr. Giovanni Rossi. I am here to ask you some straightforward questions, and if I receive only straightforward answers, we won’t be here very long.” Giovanni was careful to appear almost bored as he watched Marcos for any early reactions. The young man appeared to be truly clueless as to why he was here. “However, if you choose to waste my time, there will be unpleasant consequences.”

Marcos’ attention had been divided between Giovanni and the draculoids as the latter moved about the room, but as the man took a seat it was eminently clear who was claiming the spotlight. Besides, the draculoids neither moved nor spoke after taking up their places; the discipline of the men, paired with the air of their superior, was enough to convince Marcos that he was being addressed by someone of far higher standing than Lindsey or his professors.

He straightened up slightly, his back against the seat, the corners of his eyes tightening as his gaze darted across the man’s face - cold, businesslike - down to his hands where they rested on his lap, and back up. What had he been unpacking on the counter? What kind of lesson was this going to be? A single glance to the dracs, quick and furtive. Lips pressed together, Marcos waited.

“You’ve been in contact recently with a killjoy named Midnight Massacre. I won’t waste either of our time chastising you or asking you to confirm this. There is evidence to my satisfaction. Now–” Giovanni shifted slightly, his face never betraying the shooting discomfort in his leg. He’d moved around too fast earlier. But he never brought his cane into an interrogation, of course, so he’d have to make this session quick.

“First question: where is Mr. Midnight’s base? Where does he live?” No point working up to the meat of the matter. No point culturing drama, like Korse would.

As soon as Midnight’s name was mentioned, Marcos realized this was no training session. His stomach dropped and his fists tightened where they rested on the arms of the chair. He could no longer pretend the restraints were for show.

“I don’t know. Sir.” No point wondering how they’d found out, or how much they were aware of. Only, if they’d been listening in - he felt cold, suddenly. Did they know he’d stopped taking the medication?

Giovanni watched Marcos’s knuckles go white and his face blanch. Well, that was something. He signaled to the draculoid towards the back of the room, nearest the counter, then made a brief squeezing gesture with his fingers. The drac moved immediately.

Only when a pair of pliers was placed into his waiting palm did Giovanni seem to turn his attention back on Marcos. In a fluid movement, with a lack of hesitation indicative of practice, Giovanni grasped the index finger of Marcos’s right hand.

These things took surprisingly little strength, surprisingly less time than people realized, in the practiced hands of a butcher. Before the younger man could react, Giovanni used the pliers to pull out the fingernail, the whole ordeal occurring in something like three seconds.Without inspection, Giovanni relaxed the pliers and let the thing fall to the floor between them.

Marcos jerked his hand back against the restraints in a sort of delayed reaction, only realizing what was taking place after the pain hit. He let out a shout, staring in horror at the bloody, torn flesh of his fingertip, then snapped his head back up to Giovanni.

“Fuck - I - I’m not lying!” He pulled again, reflexively, the strap tight around his wrist. It was as bad as the time he’d caught his finger under a beam on a construction gig, and the unexpectedness somehow made it worse. Why hadn’t the man said anything?! "I’m not - I don’t know! I don’t know where he lives!“

Giovanni leaned forward, the apathetic expression from before replaced with something more ominous. “I told you, Marcos, that I would be straightforward. Listen to me when I speak.”

Nodding a little, Giovanni regarded the bloody chip in the white floor before looking back at Marcos, head canted just slightly. “Since I have your full attention now, I want to familiarize you with some basic procedures. From now on, when I ask you a question, you will give me an answer. ‘I don’t know’ is not an answer and you will be punished. Silence is not an answer and you will be punished. I will find out if you give me false information, and you will be punished.”

He inhaled thoughtfully. “How about… I give you some secret advice. I’m sure you are already plotting how you might get out of here soon. That is a bit… ambitious. Your time will be better spent focused on keeping me happy in the present. Avoiding more of this.” He tapped the viscous, exposed nail bed of Marcos’s finger with the pliers. “Where.” Eyes to cut bone. “Does Midnight Massacre live?”

Eyes wide, Marcos flinched when the pliers touched his finger, curling his hands into fists and pulling back yet again on the restraints. “I - I don’t-” How was he supposed to respond? Was the man just going to keep asking the same question, no matter what he said? “I don’t know, I don’t know where he lives! I’ve never - he never told me, I don’t know!”

Giovanni figured that much, at least. He hadn’t been shown any evidence that Marcos Silvas and Midnight Massacre had ever met face to face. Truthfully, he doubted Marcos was truly aware of anything that might be of use in this case. But that wasn’t really the point. The subconscious was a beautiful thing. It was only a matter of when and how Giovanni would get his fingers under and peel up the shell.

He motioned for a different drac to come over. The draculoid began wordlessly prying Marcos’s right hand open again, bearing down on the first wound somewhat clumsily, in an effort to sap some of the younger man’s fight out. Giovanni hefted the pliers again, spinning them once in his hand. Already leaning forward.

“That’s not what I want to hear, Marcos. Listen.”

The second one was never as easy. The draculoid assistant put forth a valiant effort to pin down Marcos’s jerking hand and give Giovanni a clear shot. This one took a couple more seconds than the last, peeled away less clean.

“Listen. Do you want another hint?”

The second nail drew a scream from Marcos, half in pain and half in frustration at his inability to stop them. The skin of his wrist was already an angry red where the strap chafed against it. The draculoid released his hand and he clenched his teeth, breathing hard through his nose, angry tears burning behind his eyes. The next time he looked up at Giovanni, the fear had been replaced. He’d followed their rules, he’d been cooperative - this wasn’t fair. Giovanni had no right to hurt him when he hadn’t even been fighting back.

“Fuck your hint,” he spat out, glaring up at him. His hand twitched, but he suppressed the wince that followed. “I didn’t do anything!”

Giovanni watched him for a moment. Interesting, like he thought. Maybe. He felt his foul mood from before being pried out of his reluctant grip.

“There is no law of equal exchange in here, Marcos. There is no such thing as ‘fair.’ I do what I want,” he waved the pliers, still gripping the second fingernail, to illustrate his words, “and you do what I want. Or I hurt you.” Giovanni’s eyes went briefly to the backmost draculoid again, making a small measurement with his thumb and forefinger. “And perhaps you believe you’re fine with that now, but you’ll get tired of it quite soon, I think.”

Giovanni's words did nothing to temper Marcos' self-righteous anger, and he made a point of ignoring the hand gesture. Giovanni thought he wouldn't last long - well, maybe he was correct. But if there was no equal exchange, that meant Marcos had no reason to make it easy on him. If he was fucked either way, he could at least try to put up a better fight than last time.

The draculoid wordlessly deposited two relatively thin nails into Giovanni’s waiting hand, followed by a small, heavy mallet. He was beginning to think he should wrap this first session up quickly. Let him marinate for a little while and come back when he was more cooperative, or at least more malleable. The draculoid set about splaying Marcos’s hand out again, forcing it flat against the arm of the chair.

As if taking no notice of Marcos’s rapidly mounting apprehension, his frantic abortive jerking, Giovanni lined one nail up and drove it through the first digit of the injured index finger, pinning it to the chair’s arm.

"Nnngh-" Marcos slammed his head back against the chair's headrest, doing his utmost to hold in the shout as it forced its way through gritted teeth. The nail's bite shot up the length of his arm and curled around his jaw, every beat of his racing heart sending a throb through his hand. He couldn't look, couldn't lower his eyes from the ceiling, and miniscule tremors shook his whole frame as he cursed the white paint in Giovanni's place.

"Fuck you." There were two nails, he'd seen them. And the draculoid hadn't released his hand yet. "Fuck you, you're a fucking sadist and I didn't -" Hold onto the anger. Nothing else can protect you. "I didn't do anything, I didn't DO ANYTHING-" A sob pressed up from the back of his throat, and he bared his teeth against it and flattened his shaking fingers against the wood. "Fucking do it!"

“I’m not a sadist,” Giovanni explained calmly, rolling the second nail around between his fingers, slowly standing now. “I’m just a professional.” If Marcos wanted that illusion of control, he could have it, only for today. Giovanni wasn’t sure he even wanted to reduce this one to a state of scraping, begging, bargaining, simpering, nothing. That would be no fun at all, and he’d already seen potential. Why shouldn’t he nurture it? In his way. And he poised the second nail and brought the mallet down on it once, twice.

The drac assistant released Marcos’s hand, received the mallet, and stepped back again into Giovanni’s peripheral. Giovanni observed his work. Disgusting, frankly. It would do for now. He made quickly for the back of the room, another draculoid having already cleaned the pliers and set them in their original place, and set about returning his tools to the briefcase.

“Now I’ve made my first move, and I’ll leave you to consider yours…” He said almost distractedly, checking that the clasps on his case were tight.

"Fuck you," came the response, but it sounded hoarse and stale even to Marcos' ears. He'd jerked at each blow of the mallet, clenching his teeth so hard he could feel the ache as a separate pain in his head, and had still not lowered his eyes from the ceiling. His hand might as well have been gone, except for those two fingers. His whole arm might as well have been gone. He was barely breathing, his lungs restricted by the desperate tension that was keeping him more or less motionless in the chair. He wouldn't scream again. Not in front of Giovanni.

He heard the click of the briefcase, and the footsteps of the men as they moved past him. No one answered, but he hadn't expected them to. The door opened; he kept his face turned upwards. It wasn't like he was leaving any time soon, he was convinced of that. He did react, however, when the noise started - a sudden grinding of metal, a deafening roar of recorded machinery from everywhere and nowhere. With a startle that tugged sickeningly on the nails, he looked down to see the last remaining draculoid turn halfway back from a discreet wall panel. The man spared him only a brief, unsympathetic glance, before punching one final button to kill the lights.

Marcos opened his mouth, with no notion of what he even intended to say. He didn't expect help, surely. Words did no good down here in any case. He watched in silence, instead, as the man stepped out into the hallway, closed the door behind him, and plunged the room into absolute darkness.

Only then, alone in the dark and drowning in the cacophony of a factory floor, did he scream.

#t #p #silvasboys #[[ WE!!!!!!!!!!!!! FINISHED!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! HOLY SHIT #me and tai will be taking turns posting pieces bc this shit is 17k+ words #I Die #very happy with it tho #i'll probably make a followup ooc post to explain how it's gonna be posted and stuff! ]]#[[ warning for graphic torture alllll the way through this thread yikes #enjoy ]]

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recentnews18-blog · 6 years ago

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New Post has been published on https://shovelnews.com/brexit-can-you-fix-stupid/

Brexit - can you fix stupid?

It takes a lot to surprise the BBC’s John Humphreys but that’s what happened yesterday morning.

Professor Anthony Seldon is an eminent historian and current Vice Chancellor of the University of Birmingham.

Michael Cockerell is a respected documentary maker and he has made outstanding programmes about the likes of James Callaghan, Margaret Thatcher and Tony Blair.

As the BBC’s Today programme sometimes does on a Saturday morning, it reviews the story that has dominated the week’s output. In this case, Brexit.

Prof Seldon said: “The current turmoil in British politics totally eclipses Suez, totally eclipses everything, we have never been here before. The lengths of fixation of government on this one issue, the complexity of the problem…20 resignations utterly eclipsing Suez, Falklands, Iraq War, the country more evenly divided, more deeply divided, families, communities, churches, than on any issue. Scotland and Northern Ireland’s future in the union both up for question at the same time, the Conservative party more deeply divided in its 200 year history…”

Mr Cockerell then chipped in: “It is the most extraordinary time I have seen in British politics. One of the times which it does remind me of, in some ways. was when Jim Callaghan was prime minister and we had a huge economic crisis and we went to the IMF, we wanted a loan from the IMF to stop the country going bankrupt, we asked for a loan of three billion, that was in the old days when a billion was a lot of money and that was more than the IMF had loaned anyone but the Labour cabinet was absolutely split on this.”

Prof Seldon came back in and said: “If we get it wrong, I feel as a historian the social fabric of the country will be stretched to breaking point.”

Mr Humphreys jumped in and asked him: “What does that mean, rioting in the streets?”

Prof Seldon replied: “It could do, yes, I think this is a moment of significant peril. Imagine, for example if there is a second referendum and the country is very divided, it was pretty evenly divided at the referendum in 2016 and now the balance of voting is just the other way, think of how angry the Brexiteers will feel if there is a second referendum that goes against them, this is a moment of significant peril and that is exactly why we need to have grown up MPs thinking not of their egos, not of their ideologies but actually a novel idea of the nation at this moment of real, significant national peril, they should be thinking of the nation, not plunging the country into a no-deal Brexit.”

Mr Cockerell came back in saying: “I do think what we will be hearing from the prime minister and other ministers who support her is the national interest; but of course behind the scenes they are plotting and scheming. It used to be said that loyalty was the Tories secret weapon. It seems now that disloyalty is the Tories default setting.”

Mr Humphreys said: “Thank you very much indeed…”

Prof Seldon said: “Not very optimistic, have a nice weekend.”

Mr Humphreys had the final word: “Thanks for cheering us up.”

While the slice of Radio Four was enlightened and mesmerising, it didn’t even mention, never mind attempt to analyse the blindingly obvious. Possibly because most of the contributors are ignorant about it, the very same stark naked Emperor element was avoided during the three-hour pummelling of British Prime Minister Theresa May in Westminster during the week.

It is the orange/green factor, the Irish Question, that dominated and often poisoned Northern Ireland politics for decades; the row that frequently spilled over the border and stunted North/South relations.

Seventeen months ago the germ crossed the borderless Irish Sea, found its way to Westminster and contaminated the Conservative Party and British politics.

And Theresa May, the heroic figure of last week’s absorbing political thunderstorm, is, unwittingly responsible for it.

The problem was created by her decision to call a general election in June 2017. She was attempting to strengthen her forces in order to combat the hard Brexiteers.

The catastrophic contest produced a situation where ten DUP members hold the balance of power in Westminster, keeping her minority government in office.

Another significant consequence of the election was the removal of three SDLP MPs who would have acted as a counter-balance to the DUP and certainly would have contributed a different narrative during the past week in Westminster.

Mrs May didn’t intend it but by calling an election she brought calamity upon herself.

Last Wednesday night she cut a heroic figure outside Downing Street, speaking from her heart, without notes. There was an even more telling angle than the head-on camera shot. It was the side view, showing her slightly curved figure, utterly alone providing a statement that was being watched by probably hundreds of millions of people.

Politics is indeed a spectator sport but the House of Commons became the Coliseum on Wednesday as several Conservative MPs seemed to revel in publicly seeking out the most vulnerable zones of their party leader.

The contribution of Jacob Rees-Mogg was particularly revealing. As an educated, practicing Catholic, he would be familiar with the scourging at the pillar and the crowning with thorns.

In the dozens of contributions, it was striking how the unavoidable truth about the island of Ireland question did not feature. The Conservatives are obsessed about themselves. The Brexiteers want out of Europe at all costs. The Labour Party has amnesia about the Blair/Brown contribution to the peace process and its sole objective is to get into power.

But if Westminster is showing little appreciation of the Ireland question, the opposite is the case with the other side in the Brexit negotiations, the European Union. The remarks made by the Belgian politician, Philippe Lamberts, a member of the European Parliament’s Brexit committee during the week, make the case.

On BBC’s World Tonight radio programme on Thursday, Mr Lamberts said: “This deal is the best that is achievable within the constraints set by a number of factors, not least of all the Good Friday Agreement.

“This (the GFA) is a treaty that the UK has voluntarily signed and it creates constraints that made a clear-cut Brexit impossible actually because it is predicated on the common membership of both Ireland and the United Kingdom to the same political body called the European Union.”

“The constraints won’t change, even if there is a leadership challenge, if there is new elections, the Good Friday Agreement will stand and the European Union determination to preserve its core pillars, including the single market, will remain as well. So I do not believe that the constraints under which the agreement has been drafted will change…

“The UK leaving without a deal would of course hurt the United Kingdom. The supply chains would be disrupted; free circulation would be disrupted, airline flights would be disrupted, goods flow would be disrupted. I think than no one really knows how deep the implications would go but there are the practical implications and they would cut both ways – they would hurt the United Kingdom but also the European Union, especially those countries bordering the United Kingdom, Ireland to start with, and then the countries that border on the North Sea including my own country, Belgium. This is not a very encouraging prospect.”

When Mrs May gathered her cabinet members at Downing Street on Wednesday, she followed the logic of Mr Lambert’s arguments.

In 1995 Bill Clinton, and his wife Hilary, became the first serving US president to visit Northern Ireland to assist the peace process: in 1998 Tony Blair was guided by the hand of history to help negotiate the Good Friday Agreement. In 2011 Queen Elizabeth bowed in the Garden of Remembrance and alongside Mary McAleese, said “A Uachtarain agus a cairde” in Dublin Castle. In 2015 Michael D Higgins said in Windsor Castle, “ar scáth a chéile a mhairimid” (we live in the shadow of each other).

Theresa May’s stance on Brexit during the week was an acknowledgement (belated) of that thread. It accepts Northern Ireland is unique, that the relationship between the neighbouring islands is special and that shared membership of the European Union has helped to remove centuries old poison and distrust and change the dynamic.

On Thursday night last I sat with Sammy Wilson at his constituency office in Larne’s quiet Main Street. The previous night he said in one television interview that the European Union was intent on giving Northern Ireland a punishment beating over its decision to leave. Sammy has a reputation for delivering such soundbites.

On a personal level I’m very fond of him. Like most of his DUP colleagues he always tries to oblige when, on RTE’s behalf, I come looking for an interviewee. In this case it was a stretch because the request was for a late night insert to Prime Time.

Even though Mr Wilson had been on the go, full-on in Westminster and arrived back in Belfast a few hours before, he agreed to participate in the programme. To acknowledge his kindness, I travelled with a cameraman to be in Larne during the link up to Donnybrook.

In the minutes before Prime Time began, we were having our chat. Mr Wilson was telling me about how he wanted out of Europe. I said my respect for what the EU stands for is personal because the E112 form that brought me to Sweden for cancer treatment 20 years ago saved my life.

Sammy was telling me about the frenetic mix of meetings and interviews around Westminster the previous night and how he finally got a late night feed of chips and stuff. He is 66 now. I told him how I had a stent inserted last month so the puncture is fixed and the blow-out and car crash avoided, hopefully.

Interactions like that with the likes of Sammy Wilson, Arlene Foster, Gregory Campbell, Gareth Robinson, Jerffrey Donaldson and Diane Dodds remind me, time after time, of how much we have in common with unionists.

They enjoy conversation about what matters. Yet, as a party, the DUP has built its philosophy on principles of confrontation – No Surrender, Sell-Out, Not an Inch. Due to often bitter and sometimes violent experience, down the years, the suspicion was warranted. But nowadays, like much of US President Donald Trump’s antics, often the fear and rhetoric have little basis in reality.

The proposition that the Irish approach to Brexit shifted when Taoiseach Leo Varadkar and Tánaiste and Minister for Foreign Affairs Simon Coveney replaced Enda Kenny and Charlie Flanagan doesn’t stand up to scrutiny.

What changed was that the shadow of Brexit took over all agendas and that Leo Varadkar became Taoiseach the very month that the DUP became the power bloc required to keep Theresa May’s minority government in power.

In public the DUP seem to thrive on being outsiders. Their founder, Ian Paisley, had a limitless capacity to invent bogeymen. Lundy was the Church of Scotland solider who went soft on defending the walls of Derry in 1689 and the DUP can rhyme off a long line of Lundys who have attempted to sell loyal Ulster down the river since.

The Brexiteers recognise this instinct in the DUP and they make common cause in confronting the EU bogeyman. The thesis to set DUP pulses racing is the notion that Northern Ireland is about to be cut adrift from the European Union, as part of a cunning plan to facilitate a united Ireland and confine Ulster unionists to a life of subservience.

The tragedy, so far, is that unionists are not prepared to look beyond their own traditional suspicions. The Republic of Ireland they fear no longer exists. Drew Harris, the Garda Commissioner, the son of an RUC officer, murdered by the IRA, is this week wearing a poppy. The kind of Irish language provisions some campaigners were attempting to introduce in Northern Ireland do not exist south of the border yet the more creative approach it has taken to the language is allowing for more organic growth and popularity.

If there was a poll taken in the Republic in the morning and the options were push for a united Ireland or commit to a ‘live and let live’ friendly relationship with our next door neighbours, the vast majority would probably opt for the latter.

One of my happiest, most illuminating days in the company of the late Ian Paisley, was a time he spent in south Sligo. He was invited down to a peace park in a small village of Aclare; the organisers provided accommodation and lodgings for the extended Paisley family in the Yeats Country Hotel in the little village of Curry.

Ian Paisley and his family were so contented during that visit because they felt welcome, among their own and they had a sense of the commonality between the people of Cullybackey, Co Antrim, and Tubbercurry, Co Sligo.

The tragedy of the DUP’s current position is they are not prepared to explore the nature of the Brexit deal on offer to them. The fruits of the haggling between Theresa May’s main negotiator, Ollie Robbins and Michel Barnier’s European Commission team, is Northern Ireland has been offered unique status within the European Union and the United Kingdom.

Although she is on maternity leave, Ruth Davidson, the leader of the Scottish Conservatives, was quick to spot this. So too was Nicola Sturgeon, leader of the Scottish Nationalist party. Like pupils in a classroom seeing some student offered a special arrangement, the SNP is envious. And the Scottish Conservatives know the Northern Ireland concession could be used by the SNP as a stick to beat them in future Scottish independence debates.

Northern Ireland business organisations have spotted the advantages of the deal. They issued a joint statement, praising it on Friday.

Significantly the Ulster Farmers Union, too, has come out in favour of what’s on offer. It wasn’t just the organisation’s chief executive, Wesley Aston, or its former president, Ian Marshall,who is now a Fine Gael appointed member of the senate. The UFU’s current president, Ivor Ferguson, a farmer in Markethill, Co Armagh, is also publicly supporting the deal.

The chief constable of the PSNI, George Hamilton (above), has stood by his warnings about the significant problems that could flow from a no-deal Brexit.

It is also true that Mrs May is seeking to reach beyond the Westminster bubble and use public opinion and different sectors as persuaders in her tussle with Conservative MPs and the DUP.

Karen Bradley, the Secretary of State, left the Westminster chamber on Wednesday to meet business groups in Belfast. A number of meetings with business groups, using Chatham House rules (no leaking), were hosted by Ms Bradley’s team of persuaders last week.

Might the DUP change tack? If a car is heading for a wall, or a ship for an iceberg, in order to avoid trouble something has to change. Had David Cameron been offered some recognition that he might have put his finger on something when he went looking to the EU for help, Angela Merkel might not be in the political departure lounge and the Remain Camp could have won the Brexit referendum.

The DUP and Northern Ireland have indeed been offered a sweetheart deal. Not due to the European Union’s special affection for Northern Ireland but because it is the practical way to structure the withdrawal agreement, the border question included.

Now the challenge for Theresa May and others is to persuade the DUP to see the merits of the offer or at least have its MPs abstain if not back the prime minister in the Westminster vote.

Mr Varadkar has already acknowledged the realities in some of his comments at his party’s weekend Ard Fheis. He is attempting to signal that a goal of the negotiations of a future EU/UK trading partnership would see no need for a backstop or any sort of significant border.

The Brexiteers will cling closely to the DUP as their new best friends, their pit bull in the Westminster battle. Northern Ireland was used as the off-shore vehicle to fund all of the final stages of the Leave Information campaign. The DUP’s ten MPs are crucial in the Westminster balance of power and Brexit voting equations.

The package promised by the Brexiteers to Leave supporters is the UK’s right to make its own trade deals with outside countries and an EU that would only be delighted to give the UK unfettered access to its markets. If there is no border down the Irish Sea (a DUP demand), and no border on the island of Ireland (an Irish/EU stipulation), would the EU insist on checks at Calais, Rotterdam etc for Irish as well as EU goods?

That’s the thinking of the Brexiteers who see a borderless Irish Sea and island of Ireland as the formula to shift the pressure onto the EU, Ireland included. The DUP as the Brexiteers’ foot soldiers, the island of Ireland as the Trojan horse.

For the past week news bulletins and newspapers were dominated by the Brexit story. But within Northern Ireland, two highly significant developments that play into the bigger picture took place. On Tuesday night BBC’s Spotlight transmitted a programme that got little or no traction. It was about the Renewable Heat Incentive Inquiry in which the DUP, its leader Arlene Foster and the party’s modus operandi are under severe scrutiny.

Witnesses to the inquiry voluntarily submitted their email and telephone activity to the investigators and the relevant and often controversial information surfaced during the hearings. But Mr Justice Coughlin and his team may now seek a further information trawl, this time conducted by independent experts to supplement what came from the voluntary provision of information.

This may lead to further revelations but it will also take time. It is not implausible that the Inquiry’s final report, expected in March/April could be further delayed – a far from encouraging omen for the resumption of power-sharing at Stormont.

A second significant development relates to the long-planned motorway between Counties Monaghan and Derry. In the absence of a power-sharing, decision-making minister, a Stormont department had sanctioned the construction project but it was being challenged by landowners.

Sensing it might be over-stepping its remit, the department has now pulled back from the project, the legal proceedings become unnecessary as the motorway work is put in cold storage.

Northern Ireland adds to its reputation for procrastination and paralysis.

These two developments feed into the pattern of the DUP as a party locked in the process of blocking, defending, confronting, saying No. Within unionism it has no opposition. The highly influential Jim Allister is a tougher version of the DUP but he is the sole Assembly member if the Traditional Unionist Voice. The Ulster Unionists continue to be an ineffective form of DUP lite.

But if the DUP’s behaviour is spreading the notoriety of the brand, it is taking the party further and further away from power and power-sharing in its own backyard.

One is torn between two Brexit questions: Can you fix Stupid?; Is Have To the Ultimate Master?

Source: https://www.rte.ie/news/analysis-and-comment/2018/1117/1011613-brexit-fix-stupid/

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scarysauce · 8 years ago

Photo

Word Count: 1,806

Song: Kill of the Night, Gin Wigmore

Warning: Sexual Undertones, mention of violence

Michael- Kill of the Night

“Ya know, I think this is my favorite position for us. You pinned down and helpless while I get to be the one on top, in control... I’m not going to lie, it’s kinda turning me on.”

“You and me both, sweetheart.” “If I didn’t know you as well as I do, I’d take that as actual lust in your voice.” “Then you don’t know me at all, because not only do I want to take you right here right now; but I want to fuck you so hard that you’d be too pleasure stricken to even scream, let alone cry for help. Ah, now that’s a fantasy I’ve had for a while- me ramming you from behind, that sweet ass of yours in both of my hands and the tip of my dick hitting your cervix with every thrust- of course, you’d be on your fourth or fifth orgasm before I even thought I might be getting ready to come. You’d beg for more when I finished, becoming my own person slave- craving the pleasure only I can give you.”

You kept yourself in the shadows, letting him think that his perversions were shaking you when they really only fueled your desires. You were keeping Michael- ironic name for a demon, right?- pinned to the ground by a chicken wire net, complete with a pentagram woven of fine iron coils to keep him in place; a design by your own hand that left him helpless and vulnerable. Around him, a circle of salt and another pentagram drawing made of paint and holy water to cement him in your little demon-proof prison. “Are you just going to let me ramble all night, or would you like to make fiction a fantastic reality as much as I do?” You paused, stepping forward slowly into the light and letting him get a good look at your leather clad body. Mere minutes ago, you’d led him to an abandoned warehouse with promises of a reversed situation- one in which you were helpless on the ground and he was standing above you- but your plan had worked perfectly, and here you stood smiley to yourself proudly. “I’m debating on what I want to do with you, Michael.” At that he snorted in an obnoxious way. “We’ve been chasing each other for over a year now, and you have to think about what you’re going to do to me? I’ve thought long and hard- not unlike something else, rest assured- many times before what we could do to each other in these positions. And while the possibility of bruises and blood and a fatality rests within both parties scopes, I imagine my illusions are much more erotic than yours.” His presumption made you laugh, but you didn’t let any noise leave your lips. In your position of current authority, there was no room for error- to show any sort of emotion to Michael would be a tremendous error. At this point, you stood straddling his hips, and slowly bent at the knees until you were almost sat on his midsection. You wanted to flaunt your dominance, and soon you got cocky with the victory enveloping your body. Pulling a knife from your back pocket, you let iron blade dance ever so slightly over his now exposed chest. He hissed in an erotic fashion from the pain, relishing in it. “I’ve dreamed of this night for so long, Michael, and now that it is here I find myself in a peculiar situation.” You turned the blade upwards, now dragging the tip towards his throat. “Do I go for the fast, obvious kill? The safe choice….” Picking up the blade and resting it lightly on his throat. You saw the glimpse of panic in his cool demeanor as his eyes grew ever so slightly wider before he brought himself back under control. The flash of non-composure made you smile even more, continuing to taunt your prey. “… or should I let myself be reckless and tease a little, maybe I’ll slit your wrists and watch you bleed out and reheal over and over again, maybe bask a little in your pain.” “You used ‘maybe’ in the same sentence twice now, come on doll I know your English skills are better than that.” Ignoring him, you continued. “Or that tongue… I’m sure it’s done some damage. Maybe I’ll cut it out and watch you drown in your flesh bag’s own blood. It’s a pity that I’m going to have to kill off this vessel, he’s just my type. But you knew that didn’t you?” The smile on his face couldn’t have been any more proud if he had tried. There wasn’t a doubt in your mind that he had hunted you before you had even known of him. That he had done everything in his power to not only seduce you, but to eliminate you. Oh how the tables have turned. “I think I’ll go slow this time, stretch out the pain since I know you would do the same for me. Stretch it out as long as possible.” You winked, hinting at the innuendo, setting a lazy smile into the features on Michael's face. Your moment of triumphant pride was soon over as Michael used up every last bit of energy he could muster to be a complete and total ass, pushing his hips upwards against the painful iron restraints to bump your backside and knock you forward onto him. It was a totally childish move, with no other intent than to make your cheeks hot. Seeming to bask in your now eminent fury as you quickly got off of him, Michael couldn’t help but laugh. “I knew you couldn’t help yourself from falling for me, sweetheart. You wouldn’t hurt a fly. I know you. You’re going to say that you’ll kill me slowly, and in the end you won’t be able to do it because you’re just that kind of gir-” Before he could finish his last word, the holy-water soaked iron blade was embedded deep in his chest. Blood came quickly from the fresh wound near his heart, the color of the liquid turning black almost as quickly as it came out due to its demonic nature. The shock on Michael’s face was intense and made you pause for a second. But you regained composure almost instantly and twisted the blade in his chest, making him groan from the agonizing pain. A bright white light emanated slowly from where the stab wound was. You withdrew the blade carefully, being sure to back off of the body as you went. The process happened fairly quickly; the light brightened into what a small sun would produce, as a suction sound blew throughout the room as the body collapsed in on itself. After the final disappearing act happened, and the only remnants of the recent death was a black oily substance staining the ground and net, you got to your feet and thought about your most recent kill. With a sigh, you ran your fingers through your hair. You really shouldn’t feel so mixed about ending Michael, he was bound to have killed you eventually and then where would you have been? Plus he was a demon anyways, so he wasn’t dead-dead, just banished back to Hell for all eternity. But still, there was an ache in your chest that made you think fondly of regret. Before you could think too much into your little dilemma, a breeze licked up the back of your neck. And because you were inside a sealed off warehouse, that was cause for panic. Wheeling around as fast as you could, you came face to face with nothing but darkness as the lights turned off all around you. Your breathing quickened, as you knelt down into an attack position, ready to face whoever- or whatever- was here with you. A menacing laugh sounded all around you as a single light lit up in front of you, showing you a familiar figure. “We meet again.” You said as coolly as possible, regaining composure and straightening your spine. Michael flashed you a smile, one full of menace and forbearance. “Long time no see, love. I hope you appreciate all of the effort I put into that little allusion... I did it just for you.” At that moment the panic really kicked in, this entire time he’d been watching you, toying with you, making you believe that you had the upper hand when he had been in power all along. Any moment he could have revealed himself and quickly snapped your neck. But yet, he’d gone through all of this extra work just to work you into a frenzy and make you all the more vulnerable. You considered for a moment pleading with him, but your pride wouldn’t let you back down for an instant. Instead, you just stared him down waiting to see what he would do next. “You know, love, I didn’t think you would actually have the balls to send me back to Hell- or at least what you thought was me. But I must say, I’ve never been so turned on.” At this point, he began circling you, drawing out his words and actions like it was a lazy Sunday and he had all the time in the world. “I thought it was erotic before- our little Cat and Mouse game- but now that there are no limits, I have to admit that the prospect of getting under your skin, and I say that with the most literal of intentions, is erotic to the point of being painful.” You turned with him, trying to keep your eye on this slippery snake, but when he disappeared for a moment you had little time to react before he popped up behind you. Grabbing a fist full of your hair, he pulled you backwards into his chest. With your neck exposed and your hands preoccupied trying to pry your scalp out of his grip, you were succumbing to Michael in the worst of ways. The position he had you in was an ideal one of power, and he took full advantage. Without a moment's hesitation, he put his lips onto yours with a charged kiss. You were stunned for a moment but reacted quickly with a sharp nip at his upper lip, drawing blood in the process. He pulled back with a down right sinister smile before grabbing the back of your head and bringing you in for more, attacking you with a show of aggression and power. After a few moments he relented and you pulled away from him, ready to kick the ever living shit out of his soulless body until he disappeared completely. “Until next time, my sweet.” Masterlist

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