#I just remembered this because I read how... she just married another predator and defended him. like that was huuuge red flag | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

nxrthmizu · 3 years

Text

Second Place ; Miya Osamu.

fandom | haikyuu!!

pairing | miya osamu x fem!reader

w.c | 2.2k

genre | fluff

warning(s) | slightly suggestive, implied sexual content

author's note | i've been wanting to write this for a while! so here it is <3 it's not beta read and I didn't use a lot of metaphorical filling so it's not that poetic but eh Idc bc ✨ self indulgence ✨

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Once upon a time, Miya Osamu swore that he would never settle for second place again— He was never going to let another Miya score first place while he stood in the shadows. The twins had split paths after graduation, stepping onto stages where they'd never have to compete against each other for the spotlight again.

... Okay, who was he kidding. He'd be compared to Atsumu for his whole life— It wasn't like a different career would change that. Besides, his aunts were way too bored to not spin up something about him and his brother during family gatherings.

"Atsumu's making more money, isn't he?"

Well duh, he was a professional volleyball player, of course he made more money— Osamu wanted to roll his eyes in front of his aunts to make sure they understood that he heard their hushed whispers— But then again, he was an adult now, and he knew better than to stoop that low.

The comforting grip you had on his wrist also helped.

Things did get slightly better for him, though.

"Atsumu, your brother's already married," Osamu overheard his second aunt say to his twin during his wedding reception, "When are you going to settle down?"

The grey-haired Miya couldn't help but have a grin on his face for the entire night. Granted, the fact there was a silver ring on your finger also helped. You were absolutely radiant that night, and Osamu couldn't have been happier to finally be able to introduce you as his spouse.

Osamu's marriage did tilt more pressure towards his twin's way, because not more than half a year later, Atsumu caved in and found a sweet little thing to share his life with. The setter had had a couple flings here and there in his earlier years— But none of them ever lasted that long, and Atsumu had never introduced them to his brother, which is how Osamu knew that his twin really cared about the girl when the golden-haired man visited Onigiri Miya with her hanging on his arms.

If he didn't have the decency to help his brother maintain a good image, Osamu would've straight-up snorted at how tense his twin was when he served onigiri up onto their table, the shop empty with the exception of one table. It was almost like Atsumu was seeking Osamu's approval— Which was hilarious enough without the fact that the setter was nervous about it.

At the end of the night, it was as if the weight of the world was lifted off Atsumu's shoulders. Kaoru— The name of Osamu's potential sister-in-law— Got along wonderfully with you, who kept the shy-but-bright woman entertained as Osamu dragged his twin into the kitchen to make fun of him.

"Oh, go easy on him," You elbowed him lightly as the two of you closed up the shop for the night, wiping down the tables and tucking the chairs in. "Atsumu genuinely cares about her, he's making an effort!"

Osamu let out the snort he had held in for most of the evening. "I wouldn't be his brother if I didn't make fun of him."

"Boys." You muttered, just loud enough for him to hear. You had been around to catch the tail-end of some of Atsumu's previous relationships, so you could tell that Kaoru was different; In a way, Atsumu looked at her the same way Osamu eyed a nice piece of mackerel in the grocery shop.

"I heard that! C'mere," Osamu grinned, tackling you from the back. A smile burst across his lips when a giggle erupted from your lips, a cloth rag smacking him in the face when you tried to wriggle away from his hold. "You aren't getting away, pumpkin. Save your energy for later."

He wriggled his eyebrows suggestively, yelping when he was smacked with the rag again.

"There won't be a later if you keep that up." You warned, laughing when horror instantly swept over his expression. His protests echoed in your ears as you thought about how this marriage was something you'd never regret. Yes, it was rough because his business took off on a rocky road, but you knew there was no gain without pain, so you hung on and saw him through to the fruits of his labour.

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The next family meeting was graced with the presence of Kaoru, who, in turn, had been graced with your advice.

"Dress decently, do not wear black," You had warned her the night before on the phone, grimacing at the memory of your first Miya family dinner. No one had aunts more judgemental than the Miya twins. "I would suggest going with a dress. Oh, and it might help to bring a gift. A bottle of Ginseng Wine might be a good idea."

"We're here," Osamu parked the car outside the family home, subconsciously wincing at the sight of his aunts' vehicles. "... Ah. They’re here."

"I see they turned up early," You grimaced, "Atsumu and Kaoru-chan are going to have a brilliant night."

"Yup." Your husband grinned slightly at that, earning a smack for smiling at his brother's suffering. "Oh, he'll be fine. We'll mention that when Atsumu really needs saving." The wink he sent your way made your stomach butterflies flutter, but the warm touch of his fingers on your hand made them settle. "We'll be fine," Osamu's eyes softened as he met yours, reassuring you. "You've got me, remember? Worst case scenario, we'll just high-tail out of there and say we need to work tomorrow."

"Right," You released a breath of relief, interlocking your fingers with his. "Ready?"

"To see Atsumu suffer?" Osamu quipped. "Hell yeah."

And suffer did Atsumu. Kaoru wasn’t spared (of course she wasn’t—) and was judged from head-to-toe by the Miya's critical aunts. From the way they were eyeing her, you'd think they were the judges of Miss Universe instead of potential aunt-in-laws. Despite that, Kaoru braved the storm and stood strong through the whole night, her resilience shining with her determination to be with the other Miya twin— Osamu nodded his approval at that.

After dinner, the family gathered in the living room, with the elderly seated on the cushioned couches while the twins were squashed together on a bean bag (that you had to convince them to share, because apparently they were adamant about pushing the other off of it). Kaoru and you managed to snag a small corner of a couch, stifling your laughter at the sour faces of your respective significant others.

"So, Kaoru-san," Four heads collectively flinched when the aunt opened her mouth, "What's your job? Yearly salary?"

"Um, I'm... I'm a newspaper editor," Kaoru fidgeted with the strap of her bag while you resisted the urge to snap at her to look as confident as she could if she didn't want the interrogation to go on for the rest of the night. A shy, nervous thing like her would only make the predator's lick their lips at the sight of easy prey.

"Oh! That makes sense," The woman sneered, Osamu's mother not-so-discreetly turning up the volume of the television in hopes that the conversation would be drowned out. "You definitely dress with the salary of an editor."

Offence flashed across Atsumu's face like lightning, but before he could start a fight to defend his girlfriend's honour, Osamu dragged his brother back onto the bean bag and stood up.

"Excuse me, everyone," Osamu put on his practiced customer-service smile flawlessly, capturing everyone's attention instantly. "Y/N and I have an announcement to make." His eyes met yours, and you nodded, a smile waltzing across your lips.

"Mother, father," You begin, addressing your in-laws like you addressed your own parents. Encouragement swirled in your blood as Osamu interlocked your hands and squeezed your fingers. "You're going to be grandparents."

It took a while for the news to kick in.

"Oh, that's wonderful!" Osamu's mother cried out, rushing to envelop you in a hug that you gracefully accepted. "Do you know the gender yet?"

"Of course not, mother." Osamu rolled his eyes good-naturedly. "We're not that far along yet."

"That's amazing! Congratulations!" Kaoru beamed brightly, not having picked up on Osamu's timely intervention.

"Thank you." You replied warmly.

"Well then, are you going to stop working?" The first aunt shot at you, smirking, coy as ever. She knew that you weren't the type to drop your job just because of an incoming child.

"Of course not." You replied easily, "What kind of spouse would I be if I couldn't help carry the financial burdens with my husband?"

She shut her trap instantly, huffing in fury. Osamu had never looked prouder.

The family rejoiced for a little longer, and from the tip of your ears, you heard Osamu gloating slightly about having reached another milestone earlier than his brother.

"I love you," Your husband murmured into the crook of your neck as the two of you cuddled in the warmth of your bed, too far for his aunts' sharp words to hurt you. "And our little boy in there.”

“How do you know it’s a boy?”

“... Father’s instinct.”

Months flew by in a blur, and so did doctor appointments, Sunday shopping trips with Kaoru as you left Atsumu to help Osamu in the restaurant. The pair would drive the half-an-hour trip from Osaka to Hyogo every weekend. This arrangement elicited a couple silly arguments between the twins, of course, but once you taught Kaoru the stern look that would make the two settle like guilty puppies with their tails between their legs— Those arguments became simple matters to handle.

“Have you thought of names yet?” Kaoru asked you while the two of you sipped on coffee.

“I have a couple in mind,” You smiled. “Osamu won’t stop going on about how he was right. The baby’s a boy.”

“Boys will be boys,” Kaoru rolled her eyes. Then, her expression changed to a wistful one. “This might sound odd, but… I just find myself thinking, sometimes… One day, I want what you and Osamu have.”

“... A happy marriage?” You raised an eyebrow, “Honey, you’re already on your way to one. Atsumu looks at you the same way ‘Samu looks at a bowl of gyudon. Or the way I look at a bucket of mint ice cream with peanut butter…”

Kaoru made a concerned look. “The baby sure craves some odd things.”

“You’ll experience this one day.” You returned pointedly. “Logically, I never would’ve thought of eating mint chocolate ice cream with peanut butter slathered on… But cravings are cravings. And it was surprisingly nice.”

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After nine long months of waiting, Miya Tomohito was welcomed to the world. Osamu cried (Atsumu made fun of him for it before getting smacked by Kaoru— She was learning a lot from you). Both yours and Osamu’s parents wouldn’t stop gawking at your baby boy, with his little tuff of dark hair, his tightly-fisted hands and the slight cherry-red flush of his cheeks. You never thought you’d fall in love at first sight— But your son was living proof that you were wrong. From the first moment you held him in your arms, you had already given a piece of your heart for him to hold in his tiny little hands.

It quickly became a regular sight for frequent customers of Onigiri Miya to see Osamu walking around the shop, a sleeping baby boy strapped to his back. The two were inseparable. Once, you walked in on your husband having a full conversation with Tomohito, who was sucking on a spoon.

“I’m thinking of adding a twist to my tuna onigiri recipe,” Osamu said, as if he were talking to an adult and not a three-month old baby. “Do you think adding a squeeze of lemon juice will make it taste better?”

“Gwa.” Tomohito replied intelligently.

“Great suggestion, Tomo.”

“Mmm.”

“I see. We could go to the grocery store later to get some tuna and try that recipe tonight.”

“Ba.”

“You’re a genius, Tomo.”

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“I can’t believe you.” Osamu looked helpless. “You’re not… You’re not seriously doing this to me.”

“I’m completely serious.” You said firmly, having put your foot down with no room for argument.

“You’re really choosing him over me?” Your husband’s jaw dropped when you nodded solemnly. “I’m your husband!”

“And he’s my son.” You shot back instantly.

“You’re kicking me out of our bed for our son?”

“He’s sick!” You refuted. “I need him to be as close as possible to me. His fever hasn’t gone down completely yet and I can’t let him go back into his cot tonight. Besides, you might get sick if we all sleep in the same bed. Who’ll take care of the shop then?”

Osamu drooped visibly. He couldn’t believe what was happening— He had lost to a Miya once again— Now his son instead of his brother. “Fine.” He mumbled sadly. “Make your poor husband sleep on the couch.”

“It’s only for one night, ‘Samu.”

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Tomohito's name is written as 智仁. '智' means intelligence and '仁' means compassionate. I have a friend named Tomohito.

Also, when I was writing this I reminded myself to make sure I made the reader gender-neutral. That is, until I realised that I made the reader pregnant. I am an idiot.

haikyuu!! gen taglist: @haru-senji @hikari-writes @whootwhoot @folkloeren @definitely-yours @rirk-ke @animegirlweeb @cemeiia @haikyuushuffle

#haikyuu!!#haikyuu #haikyuu!! x reader #haikyuu!! fluff #haikyuu x reader #miya osamu #miya osamu fluff #miya osamu x reader #osamu x reader #osamu fluff #osamu x reader fluff #miya osamu x reader fluff #[ris writes]—✧#ris's works: [second place]—✧

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crowleysnaketattoo · 3 years

Text

What we owe to each other

can also be read here

Chapter 1

Dis came to stay 1 year and 7 months after Erebor was retaken. Nearly 5 months after Bilbo and Thorin wed in front of their people. Fili and Kili were healed by the time of her arrival, and she was saved from the memory of their still bodies on healing cots. But not from the toil it had on their bodies.

Thorin welcomed her. What else do you do, when the only other kin in the world that knows your soul wants to come and stay? Dis knew above all others the work he went through, the trials he paced, to get their people where they needed to be. She may not know him like a sister would, but she knew him nonetheless.

Bilbo knew him well. He often proved as much, tuning his questions to a crinkle of Thorin’s brow or the set of his mouth. He told him as much, when he whispered sweet things in his ear late at night. But he was not there at Moria, and he was not there the day the dragon fell upon them.

Dis did not know him as Bilbo did. It is the way of the world, to have one who knows you best while everyone else possesses a shadow of you. But Dis knew his history the way Bilbo knew his thoughts.

Bilbo asked him about it one night, early in their courtship, when everything was tender and new. He asked him about Moria. Thorin’s gut twisted as Bilbo spoke of Balin’s story. It was a tale of glory, of proof of his rule and power. But it was false. He had been a child shoved into a war.

Thorin hesitated. It was not a good story, it was not kind. And he was warm, and calm, curled against Bilbo in the dying light of their hearth. But he sighed, and began to dig up old hurts.

“I was barely old enough to fight. But my father needed all the soldiers he could have, so I came to his aid, along with my brother and sister.”

Bilbo shifted, turning to face him. His hands came searching, and Thorin gently took them into his own. Wide eyes stared as Thorin continued to speak.

“It was a slaughter.” He rumbled, his breath ruffling the top of Bilbo’s head. “We lost too many. I was terrified, and most of it was a blur while I swung wildly at anything that didn't have a beard. I-”

Thorin paused to breath. Even now, safe behind stone walls with his love, he found a catch in his throat and tears in his eyes. He could, with careful practice, tell this story as stone faced as a statue.

But Bilbo wanted to understand. Protecting him as he would a young dwarf would not help either of them, because then he would not understand.

So he took a breath and continued.

“And after I took up my shield and cut Azog’s arm, which I barely can remember beyond the overwhelming sense of fear... I went searching for my remaining family.”

Bilbo’s gripe was cold and hard, but it kept him in place. That he was here, that he was not drenched in sweat and blood and screaming. But words of another time ghosted his lips. It froze his throat and coiled up into his stomach.

“Oh dear..” Bilbo murmured, reaching one hand up to trace Thorin’s face. Thorin leaned in to the warm touch. Bilbo gently leaned forward, for there was not much distance between them, and placed a soft kiss to Thorin’s brow. He moved back, resting his head on his other hand.

Thorin��s throat cleared, and he began to continue, because once he was done, this story could finally be laid to rest.

“I found my sister crying over the body of my brother.” Thorin spoked softly, “She cried into my shoulder, but all I could feel was tired. We couldn’t bury him. We didn’t have time.”

Thorin’s voice cracked and he shakily pressed his forehead to Bilbo’s.

“That night we watched our kin go up in flames. It stunk, and we were dirty, and cold despite the fire. Dis latched onto me and we stayed together until the next morning.”

Thorin broke, and tears ran down his cheeks and into his beard. Bilbo quickly moved so that Thorin was resting on his arm, and Bilbo’s gentle hand stroked through his hair. Thorin pressed his face into Bilbo’s chest.

They fell asleep pressed together, and though they did not speak much the next day, Bilbo clearly understood. From that day forth, their home was a calmer one. Bilbo defended Thorin with a new light in his eyes, a new tenseness to his stance.

It was not necessary, but Thorin loved him for it all the same.

What Bilbo did not know was that soon he would be defending Thorin from Dis.

She came in swiftly and silently, which was odd. Dis was never one to hold back sharp words. But she had a calculating look that spoke of trouble, and Thorin left her silence alone. It wouldn't last long.

She was cordial enough meeting Bilbo, if not somewhat terse. But Bilbo was married to Thorin. He could handle a little dwarf terseness. And by the end of the day he had more or less charmed her, and they got on well enough.

Thorin did not have such luck. The minute she had a moment alone with him, she let out the words she had been saving for years. How unlucky of him that it happened to be in his chambers.

“How-how dare you. I trusted you with them. You promised me that not a hair would be harmed on their heads and I would have them back safe in my arms.” Dis spoke evenly, each word getting louder than the next. She looked as graceful as ever, only the tight curl of her fists as any indication of her mood.

Thorin just listened with tired eyes.

“And now I come back to find my boys- my dear, lovely, *hale* boys, damaged. Kili cannot see out of one eye. Fili has a limp that will never go away.” She circled Thorin like a hawk. Always the predator, never the prey. She would never let herself be preyed on again, and those defences did not go down easily, Thorin knew well enough.

“YOU WERE SUPPOSE TO PROTECT THEM.” She roared at him, and he felt relief. Because once she started yelling, she would soon stop and leave him alone. He was guilty enough over his nephews, no lecture of hers would have effect. Not now, not after so much has changed. There was a time where a sharp word from her could bring him crashing down. Back when they were almost siblings, when they could've been a true family.

“Dis-” He tried to speak, but her sharp gaze shut him up. He felt a sharp pang. She should be coming to him for comfort or or, *anything* other than scolding him like a child. Had he not cared for her, clothed her, raised her, when no one else could? Where did she come from demanding he move the world, when he had already moved mountains for her?

But for once in his life he bit his tongue and was silent.

Her voice was quiet now, jagged at the edges and raw.

“I have nothing in this world but my sons. I’ve lost too much, seen too much. I will not lose them too.”

Thorin winced. He should be in her list. But in her line up of all that mattered in the world, he had a begrudging spot at the end of the line. Her dead husband came before him. Friends even came before him.

Thorin loved her. He did. It was cold, and it was distant, but it was love. They had never been close, not even as children, before the world fell to their feet. She and Frerin had been close, while Thorin took up the heavy mantle of the Heir apparent. Where she had a childhood, Thorin had work. Frerin had been their common bond.

But Smaug destroyed any hope of what they could have had. They were children, but that did not matter. Only Dis was able to avoid work, as she could barely walk let alone take orders. Thorin was left to raise his siblings. And Thorin did his best to protect them. He covered for Frerin when the younger boy snuck out to play with friends, and Dis was given the best of the food and clothing. He was there for them when his father couldn't be.

As soon as they could, they all took positions far above their skill levels and age. As soon as Dis was old enough to follow orders, she took to the healing tents, staying late into the night only to watch most of her patients die. Far from the watch of her family, her smile diminished.

Frerin became the people’s prince, often found helping with everyday tasks, singing cheerfully with a different group every night, or telling stories to the children. He appeared eternally youthful, and nothing seemed to damper his spirits. Everyone loved him.

Thorin led where his father and grandfather could not, so blinded they were by their gold sicknesses. He did not hate them for it, but he knew Dis did.

He also knew that when Dis found Frerin’s body amongst the dead, she had wished it had been Thorin instead.

So instead of fighting, he gave in. He was tired, and what he wanted most in the world was to curl up with his husband and hide from the world.

“I’m sorry.” He said softly. It felt odd on his tongue, the words garbled in his throat.

Dis froze in her tirade, and spun to face him, finally circling in on her prey.

“What did you say?” She asked, dangerously quiet. Her cold blue eyes burned into his own, and once again the unfamiliar words graced his lips.

“I’m sorry. I know I promised to protect them, and I couldn’t. You’re right. You can take whatever action you wish, as is allowed by our code.” He said. Bowing his head, he watched her through his curtain of hair. He flushed with fear. Her eyes widened and she backed up as if stung. Dis was never kind when applying the dwarven codes, and often overzealous. This they both knew.

But she did not take his offer. Instead, she turned on her heels and marched out of his quarters, slamming the heavy stone door behind her.

Thorin stared at the door in shock. She never stopped her tirades, especially when they're justified. But then again, Thorin had never tried apologizing. They used to fight endlessly, and never once did he simply take it. He always yelled back.

But he was not the same dwarf. No, he had nearly died, and everything became much more precious. And perhaps….perhaps Bilbo had changed him. Love cannot change a person. Fitting two lives together doesn't magically fix them. But sometimes they can meld into each other.

No, Bilbo did not change him by the power of love or some other youthful nonsense. What he did was knock sense into an old fool's head. He showed him that being wrong was not the worst thing that could happen. Many other things were worse.

But he and Dis didn't apologize. They waited each other out, simmered in silence until they both yelled and moved on. There was no place for weakness in those early days after the dragon, and they both were hardened from it.

“Well, I’d say that went terribly.” Bilbo’s voice carried from their little kitchen, along with the clank of dishes.

Thorin chuckled mirthlessly. Trust his burglar to be listening in. He didn't really blame him. Bilbo was protective of him, he knew that much, and could not stand for unfair words thrown Thorin’s way.

“Would you be shocked to know that was the best conversation I’ve had with her in years?” Thorin called back, following the sounds of dinner into his kitchen. It was small and hodgepodge, as his rooms hadn’t originally had a kitchen, but it was theirs. A combination of Bilbo’s cooking supplies from the Shire and dwarven cookware made an odd look. But it was fitting, Thorin supposed.

Bilbo was chopping some vegetables by the sink, and he paused and turned to greet his husband. Thorin leaned in for a soft kiss before sitting at the little table nearby. He snagged a scone from the basket in the middle.

“I don’t know how to connect with her.” Thorin sighed, picking apart his scone.

“You’re going to ruin your supper.” Bilbo replied, snagging a piece from Thorin’s pile of crumbs. He popped it into his mouth and raised an eyebrow, clearly waiting for Thorin to continue.

“Bilbo, you knew Dis and I... all we had was each other. No one else saw the real me then, other than her..” Thorin trailed off and shrugged. Bilbo made a sympathetic noise as he put together their supper.

“But we were never siblings. Especially after Fr- after my brother died. And we never had time to try.” He sighed. Thorin finished off his scone and rose to stand beside his husband. He helped carry the dishes back to the table, and set it up. It was simple. But in that little kitchen with a tiny table, it might as well have been fit for a king.

“You have time now.” Bilbo said, handing a serving spoon to his husband.

Thorin nodded slightly in acknowledgement, but did not speak. They mostly ate in silence. Bilbo knew that if Thorin needed to speak, he would, but no amount of trying would force him to share more than he wanted to. Thorin cleaned the dishes and Bilbo slipped off to get ready for bed.

Thorin never thought he would enjoy simple tasks, like doing the dishes. But besides the occasional wet food that got stuck to his hand, he surprisingly enjoyed it. And his reward was Bilbo’s smile.

He finished and followed after Bilbo, preparing his own way to bed. He often slept with only a light pair of shorts, so it wasn’t much work. What was work was his hair. He sat at their little vanity, which he had salvaged from his mother’s rooms. It was worn, and had scratches and marks in odd places.

He began to unbraid his hair. First he removed his beads, then carefully unwrapped the braids they accompanied. Thorin had four braids in total. The two that hung on each side of his face, which were his braids of adulthood along with beads representing his family. The other two were more specific to him. One with 5 different beads that told of his tales proving him as king, necessary for any court meeting. And the last one was his most treasured of all. This one only Bilbo could unravel.

“Are you ready for my help?” Bilbo asked softly, coming up behind Thorin. Bilbo’s gentle hands rested on his shoulders, and Thorin leaned back into the touch. He closed his eyes and began to hum as fingers began to take apart his wedding braid with practiced care.

One thing that he kept on for the night was his wedding band. In accordance with hobbit tradition, they had tied a ribbon and placed rings upon each other's fingers, promising long vows of companionship. Thorin had been rather flustered about the whole thing. Dwarves marry quietly and privately, as many consider it a moment to bare their soul to the one they love.

Hobbits, Thorin quickly learned, were very open people. They invited everyone they knew to the wedding, and provided food and entertainment. Thorin had to dance, to his horror, in front of everyone.

But it was worth it to see Bilbo so happy, and to meet all his relatives. Some of them were less pleased to meet Thorin, but nothing could’ve dampened his spirits that day.

“All done.” Bilbo said, breaking into Thorin’s thoughts. He kissed the top of Thorin’s head before leaving him to go sit by the fire. Something Bilbo had said early shifted in his mind.

“Do you think...it's possible to fix anything. After so many years of. Everything.” Thorin asked, his eyes trained on his beads, neatly placed on the dresser beside him.

“If I can face a dragon, you can face your sister.”

“We had to kill the dragon.” Thorin responded, a smile tugging at his lips.

“Bard killed the dragon. We just had to wake it up.” Bilbo replied tartly.

Thorin watched Bilbo through the mirror. He knew that his husband had tenuous relationships with his family, and no siblings to speak off. But he was smart. Perhaps with Bilbo on his side, he could try. And hopefully it would go better than the last time they messed with a dragon.

#fanfiction #thilbo #bagginshield #the hobbit fanfiction #thorin oakenshield #dis the dwarf #bilbo baggins #my writings #bens writing #fanfic #fan fic writing

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ask-de-writer · 4 years

Text

SEA DRAGON’S GIFT : Part 51 of 83 : World of Sea

Return to the Master Story Index

Return to World of Sea

SEA DRAGON’S GIFT

Part 51 of 83

De Writer (Glen Ten-Eyck)

140406 words

written 2007

Reproduction in any form, physical, electronic or digital is prohibited without the express consent of the author.

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Users of Tumblr.com are specifically granted the following rights. They may reblog the story provided that all author and copyright information remains intact. They may use the characters or original characters in my settings for fan fiction, fan art works, cosplay, or fan musical compositions.

All sorts of fan art, cosplay, music or fiction is actively encouraged.

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New to the story? Read from the beginning. PART 1 is here

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Yawning with fatigue, they retreated to their bunks to sleep. Up in the rigging the paddle-ducks became aware of the Sea Hawks that they were sharing their roosts with and fled in a small thunder of wings.

The Wide Wings, crests up, looked about alertly and then soared off. Shortly they returned, bearing trailing bits of seaweed which they began to tuck into the mainmast’s upper lookout. They kept it up, arranging things to suit themselves.

Watching from the deck a few hours later, Tanlin stopped a sailor about to go shoo them away.

“Let t’em ‘ave t’e Wide Wing’s nest. ‘T can be ane in trut’. Willnae ‘urt us t’ ‘arbor anot’er pair o’ refugees. Our lookoot can climb past t’em an’ use t’e bosun’s chair from t’e mast’ead, as we’ve been doing.”

A short while later, Tanlin herself climbed agilely up to platform and laid a pair of fish where the Wide Wings could reach them. They hissed at her and spread their wings in a threat display but took the fish. She came back later with more.

It was not long before the Sea Hawks were settled into their nest on the starboard side of the platform and taking bribes of fish without a thought. As long as the crewmen stayed on their side of the platform, the Wide Wings would tolerate their presence. If, that is, the crewmen remembered to bring a fish.

Tanlin spent much of her free time up in the rigging near to the birds. She even enticed one of them to roost on her arm. She didn’t flinch when its claws drew blood. Instead she gave it a small fish. The next time that she came up, her sleeves were padded and her shoulders as well.

It was while she was up high, working with the birds that she saw something down in the water near the ship. It was a long gray shape, ghostly in the depths. It was far longer than the Grandalor. She carefully put the Sea Hawk back into its nest and called down to deck, “Dragon, Ho! Off t’e starboard side!” She slid down a rope to the railing and jumped lightly to the deck.

Chapter 18: Frath

Barad ran forward across the rolling deck to Tanlin. “Did you cry ‘Dragon’?”

“Aye, Luve. Tis over t’ere,” she pointed off to starboard, “nae t’ree fat’oms under. Bigger t’an t’e ship by far an’ gray, wit’ light an’ dark patches.”

A hundred feet ahead of the Grandalor the water churned and boiled as an enormous head covered with spines and frills lifted from the sea. Large intelligent eyes regarded the ship carefully.

The Wide Wing Sea Hawks launched from their nest and swooped down at it fearlessly. They screamed a challenge which the Great Sea Dragon calmly ignored. They even dove and raked at the Dragon with their talons and claws. At last, defeated by the sheer size of the enemy, they flew back to the Grandalor and landed on Tanlin’s shoulders, facing the Dragon with raised crests and partly spread wings, hissing defiance.

A voice so mild that it seemed impossible to have issued from so fierce a visage said, “Welcome to the center of my storm, Barad, Captain of the Grandalor. You are well recommended by the fact that two of Dari’s favorite creatures defend you so.”

The Great Sea Dragon’s head tilted a bit to look more clearly at Tanlin. “Welcome to you also — Tanlin. I see that there is more to you than meets even the inner eye. You have, along with all aboard this ship made a choice that you must live with.”

Tanlin was standing legs braced, hands on hips, a Sea Hawk on each shoulder, the wind streaming her hair back. “I’ ye donnae mind m’ asking so mighty a bein’ as yersel’ a personal quest’n, just ‘oo are ye? Oi know o’ Blind Mecat an’ Dark Iren, o’ course. Are ye Frath, t’e Dragon o’ Storms?”

The huge Dragon seemed surprised by the question. “Of course. I go with the storm to steer it and make certain that it will meet all of its ecological goals.”

“Ecological goals?” Tanlin said in outrage. “T’is monstrosity,” she gestured all about at the racing, tumbling, gray and black cloud walls, rimmed white at the tops by late sun and lit internally by flashes of lightning, “came barreling t’rough a fleet! ’Oo knows ‘ow many ships ‘t ‘as sunk, ‘ow many lives lost?”

“I do,” said Frath with some asperity. “No ships were sunk. Twelve humans lost their lives, of which three were unrelated to the storm.”

“Oi’m sorry,” Tanlin apologized. “Oi’ve a temper wen ‘t comes t’ t’ose Oi care about.”

“I understand perfectly. Nor are you alone in that sentiment.” Frath looked over to port, where the water was cascading from another Great Sea Dragon’s head. This one was pure white and clearly blind, though equally obviously, it had no difficulty finding its way about.

Barad looked on, just a little awestruck. Nevertheless, he offered courtesy. “Blind Mecat, wisest of Dragons, I am glad to see you.”

“A few Gatherings ago, Barad, I would not have believed you, if you had said that. I know that you actually mean it, now. Do you know why I am here?”

“I suspect that you have been keeping track of what has happened to Kurin. I will not try to defend the fact that I was in on the start of the plot against her. I met Lady Tanlin afterwards, and she changed me — and my mind. I tried to stop what happened. I failed. I am sorry that Kurin was hurt and that the Grython sailor died.”

“I have never liked you, Barad. You know that. In spite of my dislike, I try to base my actions on reality, not my feelings,” said Mecat, looking just past him with her blind eyes in the disturbing way that he remembered from past meetings, when she had appeared as a human. “I have a question for you. How do you feel about the Lady Tanlin?”

“I love her,” said Barad simply, surprised at the inquiry. “I married her by Arrakan law and it was not for show.”

The huge white head tilted in curiosity, “Why did you choose Arrakan law? Was it part of fooling the Naral fleet about her origins and your violation of the Marriage Laws?”

Barad put an arm around Tanlin and replied firmly, “I know that you could read it so and many would. The actual reason is in the Third Great Law. Arrakan law allows marriage between any two who have no parents that share a ship name. Our parents are of different ships and fleets. When the Naral fleet agreed to our marriage by Arrakan law, it became completely legal. She is my wife until one of us dies.”

“Let me smell you, Barad,” demanded Blind Mecat. Her enormous head thrust forward through a gap in the rigging to where Barad stood. A seemingly endless breath was drawn in as she nuzzled him from head to foot, the tentacles about her mouth pulled back. “There is truth here; the last thing that I expected from you.”

The massive head turned to Tanlin. “Some say that I know all things but they are wrong. This I do know. You are a person torn. The role that you live is not the life of your birth. You must chose, your birth or your role. With either choice there will be loss.”

Tanlin wept. “Oi already know t’at, Mecat, an’ Oi ‘ave chosen. ‘Owever t’e world falls, wit’ t’is mon, m’ Ca’tain an’ m’ Luve, is w’ere Oi belong.” She looked the dragon in the eye and drew a breath to steady herself. “T’e Orcas sang for Kurti. She’s gone.” The Sea Hawks on her shoulders sensed Tanlin’s distress and stroked their beaks along her jaw and set to preening the hair about her ears.

Even though blind, Mecat appeared to look on in interest before saying, “I had heard from the Orcas that Kurti changed lives / died / and was celebrated. It was confusing. Now I understand that report.

“So be it. You have a Dragon’s Gift.” The breath of the Great Dragon was let out as mist over Tanlin and the two Wide Wings on her shoulders. Tanlin felt a sort of peace settle over her. Kurti and all of her life melted peacefully away until she was entirely gone. All that remained was a glimpse of a dying woman who sang a lullaby to calm a frightened cousin awakening from a long coma. Tanlin was a single, whole person, at peace with herself.

The Sea Hawks preened her hair serenely and nibbled gently at her ears with beaks that could easily have sheared her ears from her head. Tanlin reached up and ruffled their feathers with utter confidence. She turned to the huge, fang filled muzzle and said, “Oi know t’at ye did somet’in’ for m’ but Oi’m nae sure w’at. T’ese guys know ‘t, t’.” She stroked the feathers of two of the fiercest predators of the air. “Oi’ve decided t’at tis nae important t’ try t’ remember m’ past. Oi’m ‘ere in t’e present. Wa’ t’at yer gift?”

Somewhat sadly, Mecat said, “It is. You are a single person now.”

“T’ats an odd t’ing t’ say,” Tanlin said, tilting her head in curiosity. “‘Ow could anyane be more t’an ane person?

“I don’t know how to answer that,” Mecat replied.

Seeking to bring the conversation back to the Grandalor’s plight, Tanlin said, “Ye know, everane on t’is ship’s ‘ere because t’ey chose t’ follow Ca’tain Barad.”

“I do know. They would not all have followed him alone, and you know that, too. It was you as well,” the Great Dragon said crisply. “It is unfortunate that Captain Barad chose to flee justice. A human crime was done and fleet justice must be served.”

“Naral fleet Justice?” said Tanlin in scorn. “T’ey ‘ave convicted us wit’oot allowing us t’e right o’ rebuttal! T’at’s against t’e Law o’ ever’ fleet t’at Oi know o’! T’e Secund Groit Law requires ‘t! T’ey’re nae better t’an t’e Ca’tain o’ Ca’tains! T’at’s wye we fled. We knew t’at wa’ ‘ow t’ey’d deal wit’ us. T’ey ‘ad a chance t’ rid t’ t’emsel’ o’ t’e Grandalor an’ t’ey took ‘t wit’oot a second’s t’ought.”

“That is why, Little Bite,” said Mecat firmly, “that you cannot be allowed to flee over the pole. The Dragon Sea is closed to your flight. The fleets to the sides of you know of your conviction.

“The Naral fleet is my fleet, too. They have to have the chance to fix their injustice. If you succeed in fleeing, it will perpetuate the wrong and make an evil precedent. The Captain of Captains did rise to power on the strength of one such evil. It could happen again — to folk that I care about. You must deal with the Naral fleet’s law.”

Barad slumped, “Then it’s over. When the storm blows itself out, we surrender. They will drown me and her,” he gestured at Tanlin, “and all of the other officers before they get around to trying the crew. Then, perhaps, they will find their error. I doubt that much sleep will be lost over it. They don’t like me or my ship much. I don’t blame them.”

Tanlin gave Mecat a calculating look. “Perhaps nae, Luve o’ Mine. T’ere’s some quest’ns yet t’ be asked. Mecat, ye said t’at t’e Dragon Sea wa’ closed t’ our flight an’ t’e reason wa’ t’e Naral fleet’s violation o’ t’e Second Groit Law. Fair enow.

“W’at o’ refuge, w’ile tis sorted oot? T’e Dragon Sea belongs t’ nae fleet an’ wad be t’e perfect neutral woter for us, so long as we are actively seeking t’ get justice. Will ye allow us t’at bit o’ safety?”

TO BE CONTINUED

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#SEA DRAGON’S GIFT #Part 51 of 83 #World of Sea #Written by De Writer

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lovemesomerafael · 4 years

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No One Else Chapter 6: In A Dark Tunnel

Source: @eighthmark

Chapters 1-5 Read it on AO3

TARU has a list of Mary’s computer searches. It immediately becomes clear to Tom Hensler that the searches are the key to what’s happened to Kate, and to finding her. The problem is, there are hundreds of them.

Mary has searched drugs, abduction methods, abandoned places in and around New York City, methods of incapacitation, and methods of keeping a person unconscious for long periods of time. While finding the searches is fairly simple, with this amount of material to go through, what Hensler needs to know is the amount of time Mary spent on each site she visited. That has proven to be more difficult, but TARU’s working on it.

Mary has spent much more time on abandoned locations than anything else, and seems to have researched several of them fairly thoroughly. She’s also spent a great deal of time on methods of incapacitation. It looks like she may have visited some of the abandoned locations she’s researched, because she’s looked up driving directions to at least eight of them.

Hensler calls Carisi. He’s not looking forward to this conversation.

**************

“Mrs. Duderon, we think Mary might have done something to Kate, taken her somewhere. Can you think of anywhere she might go? Anywhere she might have mentioned?” Sonny has to keep himself from grabbing Mary’s mother and shaking the information out of her. The longer Kate has been missing, the more fearful he has become.

“Well, of course, she never said anything to me about kidnapping anyone! You can’t think I’d go along with something like that.”

“No one’s saying that, Ma’am, we’re just trying to find this missing woman.” Fin assures her. “Have you always lived in Manhattan? Is there any other part of the city Mary’s familiar with?”

“Oh, no, we never lived in Manhattan when my husband was alive. We lived in the Bronx, near his work. He was a foreman at the Carnation Brick Plant, you know, before it closed down.”

“Uh-huh,” Fin says. “Can you show us on a map where you lived? The areas Mary would be familiar with?”

She does, although she’s nowhere near what either of them would call precise. As she’s looking at the map, however, she points to a street, Tully Avenue, and muses, “She did mention something…”

“What? What did she mention?”

Mrs. Duderon starts a bit at Sonny’s intensity.

“Well, it was nothing. She just said something about how much Tully Avenue has changed. I didn’t think anything of it at the time, but now that I do, it did kind of sound as though she might have been there recently.”

Sonny’s phone vibrates and he looks at the screen. Tom Hensler.

“Fin, I need to take this,” he says, excusing himself and stepping out the front door to stand on the stoop of the boarding house.

Hensler tells him what TARU has found, and that they’re working to narrow the searches to those upon which Mary spent the most time.

“That kinda sounds like she’s keepin’ her somewhere. Like she’s alive,” Sonny says, his voice tight. What the hell had that sick bitch done to Kate? What kind of hellhole was she in, and in what condition?

“It does to me, too. I got a list of the abandoned places she got directions to.”

Sonny has a thought. “Any of them the Carnation Brick Plant?”

After a rustle of paper, Hensler responds. “Nope. No directions. But she did search it.”

“Have TARU focus on that. They lived in the Bronx and her dad used to work there, but her mom says it’s closed down. See if it might be abandoned. She might not have gotten directions because she already knows how to get there.”

“Copy. I’ll get back to you.”

They spend another half hour with Eleanor Duderon, but she can tell them nothing further.

It’s becoming harder and harder for Sonny not to think about what might be happening to Kate right now. And on the heels of those dark thoughts come the monstrous possibilities, including the worst possibility of all. Sonny doesn’t know how he will survive losing Kate, this time forever. He chokes down a sob as he and Fin rush to their car.

**********

“Tell me about you and Sonny,” Amanda says to Mary.

“Sonny is wonderful. I love him.”

“Yeah, I know, but I’m interested in the two of you together. How does he feel about you?”

Mary smiles and her eyes get a faraway look. “He loves me.”

“Then what’s he doing with Kate?”

“She left him.”

“What happens when she comes back?”

“She won’t.”

“OK, so let’s assume you’re right. What happens then? Are you and Sonny going to date? Move in together? Get married?”

“We’re getting married. He’s going to buy us a little house. It won’t be much, but we don’t need much.”

The creep factor ratchets up as Mary begins to lose herself in her fantasies.

“OK, so let’s say all of that happens. You and Sonny get married, you’re living in your little house, and then Kate shows up. What happens then?”

Mary begins to frown, then scowl, as she considers the stink bomb Amanda’s just thrown into her fantasy world. “Well, she won’t. She… won’t.”

“And if she does?”

“I don’t want to talk about Kate.”

“I do want to talk about Kate, Mary. That’s why you’re here. Tell me why Kate won’t show up. She’s very resourceful, you know. She’s a cop, like Sonny was. She’s smart.”

“I don’t care.”

“Is the reason you don’t care because she dead, Mary?”

The blunt question pulls Mary out of the last of her dreams and she focuses harshly on Amanda Rollins.

“I didn’t kill her.”

“I think you did. I think that’s why you’re so sure she’s not coming back. Which means you’ll go to prison and you’ll never be with Sonny. He’ll hate you.”

“He will not! He loves me! I didn’t kill her! It’s not my fault what happens to her…”

Again, Mary catches herself.

“What’s that mean, Mary? It’s not your fault what happens to her. What do you mean by that?”

“Nothing. I don’t have anything to do with that Kate. I hate her. I don’t want to talk about her.”

“Because you killed her.”

“No, I did not!”

“Yes, you did. And Sonny is going to hate you for it. You’ll never be with him. Your whole idea of getting married, and a little house? It’s going to be you, all alone in prison, and you’ll never see him again. He’ll be living with his beloved memories of Kate, and if he ever thinks of you, it’ll be with disgust. Because you killed the woman he loves.”

“Stop saying that! I didn’t kill her! She left him! She’s not dead, she’s just gone!”

“Gone where, Mary?”

But Mary begins to cry again and won’t say anything more.

***********

The last of the three men with restraining orders against Mary Duderon lives in the South Bronx. He’s different from the others. He’s quiet, a little sad – a reed-thin white man in his forties with little hair left on the top of his head who looks and acts much older than his age. He’s not happy to be talking about his experience with Mary, but he’s willing to try to help. His marriage was ruined by Mary’s obsession with him, and he appears not to have recovered.

“My wife, she didn’t believe that this woman could be so convinced she was in love with me if I didn’t give her any reason to. She never trusted me after that. She left me right after I got the restraining order, so I just let it lapse. I didn’t care what happened to me after that. And I didn’t think Mary would hurt me.”

There’s something…

“Mr. Trent, did you ever see Mary after that? After you got the restraining order and your wife left?”

Sonny looks at Fin. He’s not sure what Fin is getting at, but it’s clear from Arthur Trent’s reaction that, whatever Fin’s hunch is, it’s a good one.

“I don’t know what… Well, I…” Arthur Trent runs his hand through the sparse hair on the side of his head and looks at the formica table at which they sit in his shabby little flat.

“It’s OK, Mr. Trent. This woman, she’s a predator. Like we said, we think she may have something to do with the disappearance of a cop. So if you know something about that, now’s the time to tell us.”

“Please, Mr. Trent,” Sonny adds. “If you have any information that could help us find her...”

Sonny’s bloodshot eyes and the emotion in his voice register with Arthur Trent, and he decides to come clean.

“OK, I did see her a couple times after that. She hung around here, I’d see her watching my apartment. I was so upset about my wife leaving, the idea of this crazy lady watching me just seemed like it didn’t really matter anymore. But I was mad. I was really mad at her for breaking up my marriage. That’s why…”

“That’s why…” Fin prompts.

“OK, OK, fine. One night, I come home from work and she’s in my apartment. Not this one, I moved here so she couldn’t find me. An apartment about ten blocks from here. She had one of those things, whaddaya call ‘em, they shoot you full of electricity? You cops use ‘em.”

“A taser?” Sonny offers.

“Yeah, one of those. I was so surprised, she just jumped out at me, and then I was so mad she was in my house… I didn’t really think. I just reacted. I didn’t mean to hurt her, I just wanted to get away from her.”

“It’s OK, Mr. Trent,” Fin soothes. “You’re allowed to defend yourself, especially in your own home. So she’s in your apartment, she has a taser, what happens next?”

“I hit her. I just reacted, I swear! I lashed out and I hit her, and I pushed her out the door and I locked it and she ran away. I haven’t seen her since. For a long time, I watched out for her. I didn’t know what she would do. But she never came back.”

“OK. Did you report this to the police?” Sonny is sickened. A taser?

“Of course not! I thought… I mean, I hit her. I thought I’d be in trouble.”

“OK, Mr. Trent,” Fin says, putting a hand on his shoulder. “That’s all right. Anything else you can remember? Anything else you can tell us about what happened?”

“Well, there was one thing. I think it scared me more than the taser. She had a wheelchair. Not, like, a normal wheelchair. It was one of those skinny ones, like firefighters use to carry people down the stairs? One of those. It was parked right outside my door. She grabbed it and ran away when I locked her out.”

Sonny almost can’t think now. He sits, trying to digest the possibility that Mary used this same method to abduct Kate. There are a lot of reasons that isn’t likely – Kate wouldn’t be any easier to subdue than Mr. Trent had been – but abduction is a whole lot better scenario than that Mary has simply murdered Kate and hidden her body. Sonny turns this new information around and around in his head, fitting it in with the other information they have, scant as it is.

Some pieces start to click together.

************

“Well, you know what, Mary, I was Sonny’s partner for over five years. I care about him. So you can cry all you want, but even if Sonny did love you, I wouldn’t let you near him. He’s gonna know you killed Kate, because I’m gonna tell him. He’ll listen to me –“

“Noooooooooo!” Mary’s wild animal cry is accompanied by slamming her hands down on the table. The mask she’d worn is now completely fallen from her, and she’s wild-eyed and fierce, baring her teeth as she shouts, “You can’t do that! Sonny loves me! I didn’t kill stupid Kate! If she dies, it’s not my fault. I just got her out of the way! I didn’t kill her!”

Amanda is out of her chair now, leaning over Mary. “What did you do, Mary? Prove to me you didn’t kill her. Tell me where she is.”

“No! She’s gone and that’s all that matters. I didn’t kill her. Sonny is going to marry me, and we’re getting a little house, and-“

“Not when I tell him you killed his girlfriend. Never gonna happen. You hear me, Mary? That is never… gonna… happen.” Amanda drags out the last three words, injecting as much smugness as possible into each syllable.

When Mary lunges at Amanda, she ends up throwing herself headlong onto the floor of the interrogation room as Amanda just sidesteps the entirely predictable move. Olivia rushes into the room, but doesn’t interfere as Amanda pulls Mary’s arms behind her back and cuffs her.

“Tell me,” Amanda hisses into Mary’s ear. “Tell me where she is. Tell me now, or I swear I will make Sonny believe you killed her, no matter what you really did.”

“Nooooo!”

“Last chance.” Amanda reaches into her pocket and pulls out her cell phone. “Tell me where Kate is or I’m calling Sonny right now and telling him you confessed to killing Kate.”

“You can’t! I didn’t!”

Amanda makes sure Mary sees her push the button on her phone, and sees Sonny’s name and picture come up.

Sonny answers and Amanda puts him on speaker. “Sonny?” Amanda asks.

“Yeah, Rollins, what is it?”

“Noooooooooo! Sonny, I didn’t kill her!” Mary is writhing on the ground, trying to get up and fighting the handcuffs. “She’s not dead! I wouldn’t do that!”

“Where is Kate, Mary?” Amanda shouts. “You killed her. Sonny, Mary killed-“

“She’s not dead! She just can’t get out! I didn’t kill her, Sonny, you have to believe me!”

“He doesn’t have to believe you, Mary,” Amanda urges. “He won’t, unless you prove it. Tell us where she is.”

Sonny’s voice comes through the speaker of Amanda’s phone. After their long partnership, he understands exactly what Amanda is doing. “I don’t believe you, Mary. Only way I’ll believe you is if I see her myself. You tell me where Kate is, then I’ll believe you didn’t kill her. Otherwise, I’ll know you did.”

It’s very difficult to understand Mary’s words through the tears and whining, especially as she’s still struggling to escape the handcuffs. But Sonny does. He’s been half-expecting her to say that she’s somehow managed to imprison Kate at the old brickworks where her father was a foreman, and Mary’s barely comprehensible words confirm it. Sonny begins barking orders at Amanda, the rhythmic rise and fall of his voice evidence that he is running.

Olivia is already on the phone summoning help to the old brickworks.

************

Fin holds on for his life as Sonny weaves through traffic, siren screaming and lights flashing. Technically, Carisi shouldn’t be driving, since he’s no longer NYPD, but Fin has not reached this age without learning some rules of basic survival. One of those rules is, when a man has just learned that his girlfriend is being held in an abandoned brickworks and he tells you he’s driving, he’s driving. Not normally a praying man, Fin finds himself using the Lord’s name frequently and passionately during the half hour it takes them to reach the factory in the Bronx. It’s not so bad as they’re screaming down the Cross-Bronx Expressway, but on the surface streets, Fin sees his life – and that of several pedestrians - flash before him several times.

The Carnation brick plant is not one building, but rather several buildings huddled together in a rough U shape with a paved central area. All are, not surprisingly, made of brick. A massive building several stories tall, with huge, old, many-paned windows forms the centerpiece. It’s flanked by two smokestacks, one much larger than the other, but both seeming twice the height of the central building.

The brickworks has been abandoned for a while, as evidenced by the weeds growing through cracks in the pavement and the presence of ivy or some other creeping plant staging a slow-motion ambush of the buildings. Sonny squeals the tires as he pulls through a gate in the high, razor-wire-topped metal fencing surrounding the plant, joining a fleet of emergency vehicles already parked haphazardly in the central, paved area. Firefighters and police are being directed by a white-shirted policeman in a hat with shiny gold braid across the front who appears to be in charge of the scene. He is pointing with a two-way radio, and as Sonny and Fin approach, they see a team of two firefighters follow his finger to run toward a round building that resembles a fat silo.

The central building has large openings with wooden double doors at intervals along the side facing them, one of which is open. Due to the size of the building, they look smaller than they actually are, which is plenty big enough for Sonny to drive the squad car through into the building. He sees that two police cruisers are already inside and, as he opens his door to leap out, he can hear the scene commander outside asking, in a shriek, who the idiot is who thinks he’s at the Talladega Speedway. Fin cares. Sonny does not. He ignores Fin as he tells him he’s going to check with the scene commander, and sprints over to the nearest uniform.

“Where do you got people searchin’?”

The uniform, a black woman who seems a little afraid of him, answers quickly. “There’s a bunch of offices up there-“ she points to a metal stairway that leads to a mezzanine of sorts, with several windows, all broken, looking down on the cavernous, graffiti-laden space. “We got guys up there, and the rest of us are tryin’ to find all the nooks and crannies. That thing-“ she points to what appears to be a building within the building, “has fire boxes all along it. They’re lookin’ in all those.”

Sonny doesn’t know anything about brick manufacture, but he can see what look like oversized railroad tracks built into the floor. Many of the rusted, metal tracks lead around the very long, rectangular interior building. He sees uniformed cops crawling around in several outcroppings that look like brick lean-tos in the middle of it. Each has a heavy metal door, all of which are standing open. They look like what they are – fireplaces of a sort. The long building-within-a-building must be two hundred yards long, he thinks. What is that thing?

“It’s a tunnel kiln,” Fin says, appearing beside him. “My Granddad used to work here. They run the bricks through there. It’s heated by a bunch of fires, and when the bricks come out the other side, they’re ready.”

“How do the bricks get in?”

“There’s big-ass doors on each end. I’ll show ya’.”

They sprint to one side of the gigantic building past massive pallets, some intact but most not, scattered here and there on the floor, and Sonny sees that the tracks intersect and run into the end of the long tunnel kiln. The opening is blocked by a massive slab of concrete that looks like it lifts and lowers on huge girders that form a square arch over the entrance. It appears to be a colossal door to the tunnel kiln. The slab of concrete is so large that there are girders framing it, and crisscrossing it in what looks like a giant double X. The girders were painted blue at one time, although there is as much rust and chipped paint as blue color left.

The floor is covered with a thick layer of of dust, dirt, and debris, and it is clear that several vehicles have been in here over time. What Sonny notices, however, is that the tracks that look the freshest seem to go into the tunnel. He walks closer. The tracks don’t stop at the door. They go right up to it. Somehow, this massive concrete slab can be made to lift, exposing the entrance to the long kiln. Without a word, Sonny and Fin move to opposite sides of the enormous door and begin exploring. Within a few minutes, Fin shouts that he’s found something.

Embedded in the girder on one side of the tunnel is a square panel with two raised buttons the size of silver dollars and a larger, central button that is raised higher than the other two. The central button is covered with a faded red plastic disc. The other two buttons are covered with white discs, each of which features a chipped black arrow. The buttons appear to be lit, as though there is power to the switch. Sonny noticed coming in that there appeared to be power to the building, probably due to the need for security lighting. This place appears to be broken into frequently.

“What the hell,” Sonny says, and pushes the up button. He’s not going to take the time to ask for permission. If he has to, he can ask for forgiveness later.

The noise of the gigantic slab being lifted along the rusty girders is so loud everyone in the building covers their ears. Not only is there the sound of old machinery clanking, there is also the scream of ungreased rollers being dragged unwillingly up filthy, rusted tracks. But it lifts. As it does, Fin runs back to their squad car and retrieves two long, heavy flashlights. He hands one to Sonny, and as soon as the door lifts enough for them to duck through, they’re inside.

Sonny is frantic, calling desperately for Kate, shining his flashlight along the floor. It is pitch black inside; the dim light penetrating the filthy windows of the building barely reaches a few feet inside the tunnel. He begins to jog, shining his light to one side while Fin takes the other. The vehicle tracks continue in the dirt on the floor. There are a lot of disturbances in the dirt, mostly footprints that crisscross one another and large spots that look like a bunch of people stood or sat in an area, probably to drink or whatever one did in an abandoned tunnel kiln. But the tire tracks cut through them, indicating that the vehicle was the latest thing to travel the tunnel.

“Be careful, Carisi, there’s debris on this floor. Don’t get goin’ too fast.”

Sonny cannot tolerate the idea of slowing down. If Kate is here, she’s been in this pitch black dungeon all this time, perhaps injured, perhaps worse. He is trying to call out to her, carefully search, keep from tripping on the tracks or debris, and pray harder than he ever has, all at the same time.

“Katie!” He calls. He hears the terror in his voice, and he doesn’t care. “Baby, are you in here?”

They have to be nearing the middle of the kiln now, he thinks, but in fact they’ve only traversed about a quarter of it. He is beginning to think she might not be here. In this echoing space, if she was, wouldn’t she hear them calling? Wouldn’t she shout back?

They continue down the long, dark tunnel, seeing occasional debris like broken bricks, beer bottles, a few used condoms (really? Sonny thinks), and the crushed, torn wrappers from all sorts of food items. But no Kate. The only thing that is holding Sonny together at this point is the fact that the tire tracks still continue in the dirt.

Fin gives a shout. “I got somethin’!”

Sonny can see an indistinct shape on the floor several yards ahead. Heedless of the potential dangers lying on the dark floor, he shines his flashlight on the shape and begins to run. It’s clear from a few yards away that it is a body lying on its side, back to them. Sonny and Fin reach her at the same time. Kate. Lying motionless on the floor of the tunnel, drying blood matting her hair and zip ties binding her wrists and ankles.

Sliding to his knees beside her, Sonny reaches out to take her by the shoulders and roll her over. Kate’s eyes are closed and her head lolls to the side like a rag doll’s. She doesn’t respond.

#law & order svu #law & order: special victims unit #sonny carisi #ada sonny carisi #ADA Dominick Carisi Jr #ADA Carisi #peter scanavino

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magicalthoughtsendinterriblefics · 7 years

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Abusive - Request

Requested by @thestrawberryblondehobbitbatch: Hi. I was wondering if you'd do a Sherlock x reader are married. They are out on a date when the readers abusive ex boyfriend turns up while Sherlocks popped to the gents.

Summary: In an attempt to escape from reporters, Sherlock and (Y/N) end uo at a very dark restaurant. He excuses himself and leaves her alone for a few minutes without knowing that her abusive ex-boyfriend was a waiter there.

Pairing: Sherlock x reader.

Warnings: Abusive ex-boyfriend, is there really anything else to say?

Word count: 1,789

A/N: Don’t know if the ex is too much of an insane man... I have been reading “It” and, however’s read it knows why, that is the reason I wrote him like this. Also, as someone who’s seen abuse from up close, I beg of you guys, if you’re in an abusive relationship or know someone who is DO NOT stay quiet, you’ve got to talk and get help. Please. This is just fiction, there won’t be a Sherlock Holmes to rescue us, or even so an easy way to escape on your own. So please, do get informed and get help. I repeat, this is fiction.

Enjoy!

The little restaurant was full. Every single table had been taken by either a couple or a family, and they were all chatting like they hadn’t seen each other in ages. The waiters were walking quickly to deliver the orders to the correct table, and the cooks were struggling to get every plate on time. The musicians were full of different songs – some songs were completely unknown to them – and the person in charge of the entrance was trying with all her might to calm every one down.

“It’s unbelievable how many people want to come into this place.” Sherlock observed. Of course, he had noticed everything.

“They don’t…”

“I know.” He interrupted his wife, “Half of them are reporters, the other half are fans.”

“You’re such a celebrity.” She joked. Sherlock smirked proudly, a few crinkles framing his blue eyes.

“You know what to order?” He asked.

“No… The menu is quite limited.” The mischievous smile that formed on his lips made it clear that he didn’t want to stay at that crowded place. “Where?”

“There’s another one, down the block, closer from home.” He whispered, leaning closer to give a stronger sense of privacy. “We can sneak through the back door, fool those paparazzi.”

“The things I do for you.” She sighed and then both of them followed Sherlock’s mind plan.

The back of the restaurant was dark and it smelled like fish, but it had a direct access to the opposite street, which was free of people. Sherlock and (Y/N) ran all the way to the other restaurant Sherlock had in mind. Hiding in the shadows, letting out breathy giggles and, most importantly, enjoying each other’s company.

Said restaurant was empty, and the dim lights worked perfectly as a cover up. No one could see the other’s faces unless they were at the same table or a waiter used to such lack of light.

The food of course wasn’t as good as the one from the last restaurant. It had a rather artificial flavour instead of the homely one Sherlock adored, but even so just being able to spend a night off with her was enough.

Two whole hours went by and they were about to leave. Sherlock popped to the gents while (Y/N) waited at the table, munching at a mint they had given them along with their change after paying the check.

She had felt like someone stared at her ever since she and Sherlock entered the restaurant. But she was so used to being followed either by reporters, Mycroft’s spies or Moriarty’s spies it could really be anyone. And she wasn’t doing anything bad, so she wasn’t worried to be caught on camera.

He had stared at her for those two hours. That slut. Giggling like an idiot, playing with her hair, caressing his palm… Of course she was doing it, he was a famous detective – a genius even – who led him to the next question: How come he hadn’t noticed yet what kind of whore she truly was?

He then left her alone. Alone in that dark place, vulnerable. The anger he had felt, locked inside him for ages, was now rising from the flames of his own inner Hell. His knuckles hurt, ached to feel her soft skin break over them, wanting to get splattered with her blood once more.

The mere thought of her pretty face covered in bruises excited him, making tingles appear all over his body in anticipation. The place was dark, he only needed to drag her a bit further away from her table, and so she wouldn’t know what hit her – literally.

He walked slowly towards her; like a predator haunting its prey before attacking. Observing her every move, her naïve expression, her… Her red lips. Those lips that made him lose control, in the exact tone that got his fury to unleash. She loved that colour that shade, it truly reflected her inner self: A whore.

He slid at the opposite side of the table, with his dark eyes glued to her who was distracted getting something from her bag.

“Have you seen my…?” She lifted her gaze, and the pure sight of the man who still gave her nightmares made her freeze. She was frightened to death.

Her blood started running faster, her lungs were lacking of enough air to contain her anxiety. Her heart skipped beats and then recovered them in a few seconds, which caused an inconsistent beating. Her hands, armpits and forehead started sweating, and her knees tingled, begging her to run. The ghosts of the past impacts invaded her mind, and all she could feel was the many bruises that were now long gone but used to belong on her face and arms. Her lower ribs and legs burned, remembering all those kicks and mislead punches they had received. Her lips went dry, and not even the lipstick could get them to hold them from breaking. She wanted to scream, but there was a knot on her throat avoiding a single sound to come out of her. Her flawless skin turned so pale anyone would’ve swore she was a ghost and her eyes hurt. She hadn’t blinked, she couldn’t, scared that he would use those seconds of blindness to harm her.

“You remember me.” He said as a wicked smile grew on his face. That smile, that cursed omen that warned her about the upcoming violence. It was there, right in front of her, directed to her once again.

“Please go away.” She begged in a whisper so low he could barely hear it.

He tisked his tongue and leaned closer. “I can’t leave, slut.” He whispered back, although his voice was audible, “I work here.”

(Y/N) tried to get up from the table, but he just slammed his fist once over the wooden surface and her instincts made her sit back. She hadn’t forgotten his rules.

“Who’s that man?” He asked, and (Y/N) knew who he was referring to.

“Don’t you watch the telly?” She inquired, trying to be brave like that time she escaped. He hissed back, showing all of his teeth.

“Sherlock Holmes, of course I know. What I mean is who is that man to you?” (Y/N) froze, hiding both of her hands under the table. Wanting to keep the diamond ring out of his sight.

“Her husband.” A third voice stated from behind him. Sherlock stepped closer, making the dim light shine over his face. “Who are you?”

He got up and tried to stand up in an authoritarian pose. Of course, Sherlock was taller, but even so he had the face of a maniac and that was pretty intimidating.

“Let me guess,” Sherlock smiled triumphant, “that poor bastard that… Yeah, of course.” The detective didn’t want to say it out loud, knowing exactly how she felt about it. “Think you can get her back to the cave of horrors?” A cruel chuckle left his plump lips, “C’mon, we both know you prefer to be the one beating rather than being the one beaten. So don’t make me bring you back to those summer days when mommy would hit you with a hot metal bar.”

“You think you’re smart?” He fumed. Of course mommy had hit him with a hot metal bar as a child, right on the palms of his hands – he still had the scars – but how could Sherlock know? Not even (Y/N) knew it.

“Smarter than you, yes.” Sherlock replied, “Isn’t that why daddy would punch you. For the low grades and the lack of brains… You think that reflecting that on (Y/N) or really any other woman will help you deal with your anxiety?” Sherlock shook his head, “Nothing will help unless you stop chugging on so much coffee… Although, I can’t really blame you because I wouldn’t want to have the nightmares you have.”

“Don’t make me hit you.” The lunatic warned and Sherlock couldn’t express his thoughts with anything other than a sarcastic laughter.

“You? Hit me?” He huffed, “I’ve dealt with Egyptian murderers and killed each and every single one of them with just one sword… My life’s been threatened more than once and I’ve defended myself. I fought the Golem and so many other criminals that are far better than you. Do you honestly think you scare me?” His voice had gotten lower and faster with each word. He had also leaned closer to the man threatening (Y/N) so that they were at eye level. “Don’t play with me, boy, unless you want to get burned.”

The man pushed him back. Trying to remember how the kids at school would beat him up before he learned how to defend himself – or rather mimic them and use said moves against them – and dodging Sherlock’s attempts to hit him. Although, of course, Sherlock was just distracting him.

It only took four punches. One under the ribs, another one at the back of the neck, the other at the back under his lungs, and the last one directed to the throat. Sherlock punched him in said order so fast nobody actually saw it, however, in just five seconds (Y/N)’s ex was on the floor, finding his will to breathe.

“I can’t believe you dated this pig.” Sherlock complained, “Thank God you changed your mind and ended up with me… Everything all right?”

(Y/N) nodded. “Please, Sher… Let’s just leave.”

“Just one moment.” Sherlock kneeled down to the floor to meet face to face again with the man. “You better disappear, because if I see you again I’ll make sure you never see the light of day again.”

“Sher.” (Y/N) begged, completely oblivious to what his boyfriend was whispering into her ex’s ear.

Sherlock stood back up and took his time to put on his coat and scarf before leaving. Of course, he made sure to step on the man’s stomach on his way out. Nobody touched his girl, less to say, nobody threatened her without Sherlock doing something about it. Everybody knew it, and those who ignored it… Bad things would happen. It was just his way of taking care of the one person that made him feel a lot more than friendship, the one to truly make him feel human rather than an uncomprehended genius. And God knows, Sherlock wouldn’t be able to live without her.

“The things I do for you.” Sherlock repeated her words as they walked out. (Y/N), who was still a nervous wreck, replied with a shy smile and a peck on his cheek. And so they walked through the cold streets of London, back to their tiny flat at 221B Baker Street, where no one would bother them - except for John, maybe.

*Requests are ALWAYS open.*

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nexiraptor · 5 years

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The anime right is the problem

I’m going to try my damn hardest on this godforsaken website to try and explain the problem in the anime community and it mostly stems from the alternative right anime “fans” and how they need to be at least filtered from the conversation about changes and more representation in anime in general as these people want to silence us or they want to call characters who are apart of the lgbt community slurs.

First i’m going to go through the most recent example of how the alt right of anime fans should not be taken into consideration in the most recent controversy regarding anime voice actor Vic Mignogna who has been accused of several altercations and two very prominent companies have fired him both being Funimation and Rooster Teeth. While the backlash is going to be pretty bad from the start once another controversy starts these Alt right anime fans are pretty much going to chase that next butterfly and I have seen it many times before.

The alt right anime fans are for the most part (not all the time) just easily distracted children who will chase after the next butterfly that comes there way. I do however have to point out that these people are gas lighting, threatening, and harassing these victims of sexual harassment in general and these are the same people who believe they are in the right by trying to threaten harassment at the next convention they go to. These “fans” also want perfect ultra HD graphic evidence of pretty much child pornograhpy of Vic Mignogna touching these children. You all have to remember most of the harassment that has been happening in conventions with Vic are coming from Vic and these people do not need to show a complete and total stranger this stuff. (If you do have any evidence against Vic please report it to the proper authorities though.)

The same “Fans” that are harassing victims are also harassing voice actors advocating to the victims which is pretty much the whole entire anime dubbing industry. If you are a member of the “alt right anime fan club” (this is an expression) and you see all these voice actors supporting the victims and not a single one of them supporting Vic maybe that should mean something, hell even the people during the dub of ghost stories had a bone to pick with Vic while doing that dub and that was back in 2005 which is pretty much how long all of the controversy dates back even on that google docs master post so there is around 14 years of accusations. There was also an investigation in the firing of Vic Mignogna in funimation. (Also if you even ask for the investigation evidence the company has the right to deny you that information because that’s confidential information and that could fire even more people)

Then there are these people shouting at you “Innocent until proven guilty.” which is only used on a court system and not actual real life, also here’s a little bit of fact for in case you want to make fun of these people: there are countries in which those accused of crimes are guilty until proven innocent such as: North Korea, Myanmar, China and Japan. This is because these countries legislative system believe that the suspects are guilty until and unless they get any evidence against it.

That’s right the country that makes all of these anime uses “Guilty until proven innocent” for criminal cases but these are probably not for all cases i’m guessing in Japan.

However we can talk about the Vic Mignogna case all we want but more people have done it in the Vic mignogna tag than I have so I suggest going there to read up more and if you want more proof of the Alt right hating female voice actress all because she defends herself and was harassed by this deranged man go to any youtuber video on “Monica Rial.” and you will see some high grade Bullshit.

However I want to move on from Gaslighting to the use of a certain slur these Alt right anime “fans.” like to use and question. I think y’all know where this is going. Let’s talk about how the alt right’s use of the word “trap.” needs to fucking stop especially for anime characters who are CONFIRMED trans. I don’t know if you know this about me but i’m a Genderfluid Pansexual who loves everyone except for the usual phobes including TERFS.

Terfs are another subset of transphobes who want to erase Transgender people from the feminist movement and I will not stand for it. If you don’t want to date a transgender woman that’s fine just make sure when you say it you say when you are texting them or chatting with them on the internet and not on a fucking date with them.

“Catie.” you might be asking to yourselves “Why are you talking about Terfs instead of the alt right anime fans using the term trap.” because both these are examples of people erasing transgender people from the community and are both just as dangerous. Using a slur to describe a transgender character is just as bad as telling someone “You don’t have the right parts to be apart of our movement.” both are just as degrading and awful. Transgender women have been literally murdered over this kind of treatment and it’s called “Tans panic.”

There’s a reason when people were super happy over the fact that there was a confirmed transgender characters in an anime about zombies becoming idols and you calling her a “trap” was a terrible idea because not only are you trying to erase a character’s gender with a slur you are trying to erase a character that people look up to as role model because that character in the same gets accepted for who she is and that is something many transgender people really want acceptance from everyone.

There’s also the fetishization of the same sex in anime and manga which is just as disgusting and terrible. The anime/manga of “Citrus.” is the most prominent example because it’s the fetishization of lesbianism and incest all wrapped up in one series and it’s fucking disgusting. Yet for the most part it’s celebrated as one of “The best Yuri manga around.” If you really want a LGBT positive lesbian manga don’t worry guys I got you all covered “kase san and morning glories” is an adorable manga which is compromised of short manga stories of these two girls who want to be in a relationship with each other. (For transgender people “The bride is a boy.” is a great one as it’s the autobiographical life of a trans woman getting married to the person she loves)

Did I also forget that some of these Alt right “fans” are lolicons. If you don’t know what the term for lolicon is i’ll give you that tern right now: A form of anime that takes the sexualized school girls of manga and make it more explicit. It is commonly enjoyed by pedophiles. (This is copy and pasted from urban dictionary) yeah some of these people who “stand with vic.” are predators themselves except they don’t actually you know do that kind of stuff to actual little girls (At least most of them) no instead they fetishize little anime girls like “Kanna.” from “Miss Kobyashi’s Dragon maid.” or the platelets from “Cells at work.” they put them on body pillows, they wear merchandise of them, and even figures only to do unspeakable things to that stuff.

Clearly the alt right anime “fans” are a major problem in this anime community and we really need to start rising up and say “I’ve had enough of this shit.” because if we don’t fight back hard enough or get organized the anime industry is just going to think we are people who don’t want positive LGBT representation or not to have this fan service garbage we constantly get all the time. Even worse though is stuff that was made by Neo nazi and pedophiles in japan themselves.

It’s really time to get organized or else these animegate people are going to keep us from all of that positivity because of slurs, gas lighting, and fetishization of anime. We need to filter the alt right out of our content and make the anime industry better.

#long rant #transgender #trigger warning #vic mignogna #kickvic #alt right anime fans #alt right #zombie land saga #terf #anime #animegate #Monica rial #transphobia #I know I get into a couple of tangents but we shall see how this rant goes

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universeinform-blog · 7 years

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Unite leadership battle sees Labour factions line up against each other

New Post has been published on https://universeinform.com/2017/03/31/unite-leadership-battle-sees-labour-factions-line-up-against-each-other/

Unite leadership battle sees Labour factions line up against each other

Balloting has started to decide on the following standard secretary of the Unite union, a choice that could define the route of the Labour birthday celebration for years yet to come.

Allegations of personal smears, political interference and cronyism have characterized a fraught marketing campaign to steer Britain’s largest union, which isLabour’s most generous donor.

With Labour 19 points at the back of the Tories, the Unite end result could determine if the birthday party fragments or stays in its contemporary form.

The incumbent, Len McCluskey, is the favorite having won 1,185 branch nominations – 5 instances extra than his nearest challenger, Gerard Coyne, a senior Unite official from the West Midlands.

McCluskey is backed by way of those at the birthday celebration’s left, such as Jeremy Corbyn and John McDonnell

Who believe that his victory will make certain the left has some affect over Labour’s equipment and will be able to push via rule modifications that might supply them more control.

Coyne is subsidized nearly universally via Corbyn’s enemies, who trust a surprising victory would rob Labour’s chief of his ultimate great union backer and paymaster.

Coyne’s group believes there is nevertheless hope if they are able to convince a better turnout of Unite’s 1.4 million participants to vote. The low turnout in internal elections – 15.2% voted inside the 2013 trendy secretary contest – fingers disproportionate influence to its radical activists, lots of whom see McCluskey as too rightwing.

Coyne’s strategy is to awareness on motivating members who do now not usually turn outI he can persuade 20% of participants to vote, whatever could appear.

Coyne’s crew believes contributors are irritated at the manner McCluskey and his allies have spent masses of heaps of kilos of union funds on what are perceived as McCluskey’s pet projects, along with Corbyn’s management.

The front web page of Coyne’s marketing campaign website highlights a Father or mother tale that showed that last 12 months the union contributed greater than £four hundred,000 toward the purchase of a £700,000 significant London flat for McCluskey. United has argued that such offers are commonplace among large unions.

Coyne, forty-nine, is likewise asking participants if it’s miles right that McCluskey, 66, has sought some other 5 years while he’s above retirement age and drawing his pension. The union’s policy on retirement is that “68 is too late”.

Learn About Leadership And How To Improve Your Skills

If you want to be successful in any job, you need to demonstrate commercial enterprise leadership skills. This is obvious In case you are in a role of leadership, however additionally beneficial if a few of the rank and file so that you would possibly land an advertising within the future. Hold reading for a number of beneficial recommendations on enterprise leadership.

A very good leader, or supervisor, will exit of his or her way to get to recognize personnel higher. No longer pretty much paintings-related subjects, however about their outside activities, family, and hobbies. personnel recognizes it whilst their leaders acknowledge them in approaches that don’t pertain to work. This makes the connection a little extra personal.

Don’t shift the blame for mistakes to others. Subordinates,

Outside contractors and plenty of other humans in the corporation can reason a business transaction to go incorrect. In case you attempt to shift the blame, you may lose the self-belief of your customers and that they may not patronize your enterprise any further.

Be sure to finish the entirety you start otherwise you chance to drop the honor of the human beings that paintings underneath you. Despite the fact that something seems especially tough, you should provide it your all and see it via to the end. No one will look at you the identical if you switch right into a quitter.

Discover ways to delegate non-essential obligations to your employees. Delegation permits you to attention at the critical matters that should be carried out to make your business enterprise successful. Additionally, delegating responsibilities in your personnel offers them a feel of delight and ownership within the corporation. Even though it is tempting to try to do the whole lot yourself, delegation is beneficial in your employer.

Pick the suitable shape of communique for the situation count.

Simple affirmation of commands or other every day verbal exchange can be accomplished through electronic mail and textual content messages. If the challenge is counted is sensitive or of high importance, it’s miles critical to schedule a meeting to discuss the situation head to head.

Remember that you aren’t someone who’s ideal. While a frontrunner, you still have things that you could research, and you Don’t singlehandedly personal all of the intelligence on your employer or organization. Live humble sufficient to realize that you are nevertheless going to want the assist from time to time, and the humans you lead will think exceedingly of you.

Leaders, and their teams, often do Not connect as a lot they would like to. However, getting together to talk about work is essential so one can Hold matters running easily. The quality kind of amassing, first of all, is one in which you, because of the chief, opens the discussion board with a question like, “How is the entirety going?” That is an exquisite ice-breaker and will assist you to research lots.

Now which you have examined this newsletter, you’ve got found out some things about demonstrating leadership in business. Use those suggestions to higher motivate yourself and people around you to your current professional placing. You ought to discover your line of work more rewarding and effective right away at all.

A Few Things to Know About the Horde Faction Before Choosing Which Faction to Join

The Horde is one of the two factions of worldwide of Warcraft characters-the other beings Alliance. There are many choices to be had underneath the banner of the Horde in phrases of race and sophistication. Have you ever chosen a character belonging to the Horde faction? I advise you search for a guide on how to energy degree your character. Shop yourself some time through not repeating the identical mistakes maximum beginners and even a few skilled gamers-make.

The Horde, also known as the new Horde or Orcish Horde, was inherited by means of the Thrall race.

Over the years there advanced many extraordinary factions inside the Horde that have caused the advent of the one-of-a-kind races. They are savage juggernauts of strength. Amongst them are Ogres and Orcs which can be the Horde’s maximum treacherous beings. Though they generally tend to fly off the handle in the fight, They may be very skilled combatants. They may be not the most mobile nor the daintiest of creatures and do now not effortlessly get away from battles. But alternatively, if you’re a Horde individual you might not worry approximately seeking to get away something. Hordes can win battles with their bodily strength on my own. Supplement a Horde man or woman with the powers of arcane magic and strategic advancement and his enemies are done for.

Have to you pick out to take advice from a pal or a guide on leveling up your individual, ensure it applies to Horde

I have a preference for a manual that addresses each Alliance and Horde factions for while you want to begin from the beginning, playing another man or woman. There’s also lots of advice on the forums concerning Horde needs and goals. I frequently see games posting questions about whether or not or not their person, being of the Horde, can research this or that talent from an Alliance teacher. On occasion, the answer is yes, Sometimes no.

Why Would A Man Defend The Other Woman Or Mistress To His Wife?

I often hear from wives who are seething because as they’re looking to reconnect with their husband and save their marriage after his affair, but their husband is protecting the other lady. The spouse often does not understand how her husband could be so stupid as to have a look at his wife and guard the woman who’s the source of all of their issues.

I heard from a wife who stated: “To be pretty sincere about it

I hate the alternative female. I suggest I loathe her. I think she’s a low pleasant tramp who got down to take what was mine. I think she is a liar and a cheat. She knows my circle of relatives. I wouldn’t call us pals anymore. but I know her kids and her husband. I understand how she went in the back of each one’s returned and pursued my husband. I know how she lied proper to my face. I know how she took benefit of the fact that I used to be going via scientific troubles that pressured my marriage whilst she pounced just like the predator that she is. however, when I inform my husband this, he will say that I am making assumptions and that I don’t surely recognize that lots about her. he’ll guarantee me that she’s no longer an evil person and that she does have a few redeeming traits. This infuriates me! Why does he shield her behavior?” I have some theories in this which I’m able to discuss beneath.

A few Motives That Husbands shield the other girl: I genuinely understand why this makes you so angry. It is smooth to hate the alternative girl. It is everyday to make her out to be the villain. And i don’t assume that all people can deny that a lady who preys on some other girl’s husband (whilst she knows he is married and is married herself) is lacking in integrity and moral man or woman. but you realize what? When you deliver your husband a laundry list of the matters which are deplorable approximately her, he frequently knows that these attributes apply to him too.

In case you say that the other lady becomes a sneaky, evil individual who snuck around who took advantage of the wife’s illness,

Well, all of those attributes observe to the husband as well. He also snuck round and used the wife’s clinical treatments to satisfy with the other female. So it is able to be painful for him to listen you tearing into her, while he knows that he’s simply as guilty.

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