Lindsey Stirling (Ven Tribe) – We Found Love.

Since it’s Boxing day here, I am sharing my favorite songs with you all, and this one is one of the best. Lindsey Stirling’s “We Found Love.”  I really hope you all enjoy it as much as I do.


Now we’re standing side by side
What it takes to come alive
It’s the way i’m feeling i just can’t deny
Got to let it go

We found love in a hopeless place
We found love in a hopeless place

Shine a light through an open door
Love and life, i will divide
Turn away cause i need you more
Feel the heart beat in my mind

It’s the way I’m feeling I just can’t deny
But I’ve got to let it go

We found love in a holy new place
(Mapenzi, Mapenzi yeah)

We found love in a whole new place
(Mapenzi, Mapenzi yeah)

We found love in a whole new place
We found love in a whole new place
We found love in a whole new place
We found love in a whole new place

(oh wey oh, oh wey oh)
We found love (oh wey oh wey oh)
(oh wey oh, oh wey oh)
We found love (oh wey oh wey oh)

… Mapenzi we
(Mapenzi, Mapenzi yeah)
… Mapenzi we
(Mapenzi, Mapenzi yeah)
… Mapenzi we
(Mapenzi, Mapenzi yeah)

Tainted Love – SS.

A continuation from “Rough Dominance” –

This post contains graphic sexual content.  Reader discretion is advised.



Scene setting : Dark alley in Hell.

co-written with Artie.


Artie:  A gasp of feelings Bandit couldn’t quite place… though she did not feel more violated than when her nether regions were free to the air, the cold swirling around her heated body and womanhood. “No!” But she would shudder, the feel of his relatively warm digits against the nub of nerves that hid so cleverly in her mound causing her back to arch. “Gnnn…!” Again her hands would desperately claw at his skin, trying to make markings on him while the rest of her body went limp in his embrace..

Oh, but you do!

“No, I don’t!” The words struck her, but not as much as the slightly numbing feel as she would collide with the bin. The cold came as a shock to her stomach, the wind knocked from her breath.. as though she would have time to recollect herself before the warlock freed her behind from her clothing that was meant to keep it all together, her curves exposed to the one she did not want to see the most.. A cry of pain ripped through her lips as his nails gripped and engraved into her sensitive skin, another of pleasure and pain following the loud smacking noise that came from his slap to her skin, his degrading of her body.. Surely, a hand mark would remain.. but she hated how he could feel her reaction and see them, the tensing of her muscles against his fingers as he hit her, his hand returning to her identity..

Though none would make her panic more than the feel of his length against her skin, the friction of his newly revealed self causing her body to thrash a bit.. though she would wince against the metal that pressed deeply into her skin at the quick movement. “Don’t! ..Don’t!” It was a plea, her thighs squeezing together tightly and thus restricting the movement of his hand, her hips moving forwards to make it more difficult for him to enter her from behind, as though hiding..

Her arms slowly moved to be under her, pressing against the bin as she began to lift herself to be standing against his strong body. The thief willed herself, swallowing hard as her lower muscles clenched around his fingers, surprisingly tight even around only his digits.. but at her tightening clench of thighs, wetness began to drip down them, pushed from her mound and finding an escape.. Her cheeks flushed red, her jaw locking while whimpers attempted to push through, the blood from his bite had begun to drip down her chest..



Razorbackwriter:  The alley was now the scene of a shocking attack upon Bandit, that in Raul’s mind was long over due. Years he had waited for this moment, and while his instincts pressured him to take what he had come for without any care for her, he started to listen to the way she cried for him to stop. Over and over she pleaded with him not to do what she knew he would. Her inner muscles forcing the rippled flesh of her inner womanhood to squeeze against his fingers – practically pulsating. With the slick release of her juices, Raul could feel and sense that her body craved the attention. Using his left knee, he forced her legs to part as she struggled to keep them closed. With her bent over the industrial bin, and her ass truly exposed, Raul made his earlier threat a reality. He whipped his fingers out from her, each digit covered in her dew and moved it to grip onto her breast, while his other hand snatched a large section of her hair. Reefing her head back so her back was now arching and presenting her buttocks to him ready for mounting, he let out a roar of triumph.

He bent his knees slightly to line up the glistening head of his throbbing length to her puckered hole, and spat down on the top of her cheek so the saliva would seep down and act as lubricant for the next act in this ritual like taking of her body. Bandit’s writhing form only made him all the more excited as she tried to buck and fight, till at last she made a whimpering sound through gritted teeth. It was unmistakable. Too good to be true.

Without warning Raul thrust his girth into her tiny hole, stretching her insanely. There was to be pain. Excruciating pain, which would make her scream his name. Anything that came out of her mouth was sheer music to this twisted sadist of a man. Tugging her hair tight and pulling it back so it stung at her scalp, it was almost as though Raul was set to ride her into the metal bin.

Raul thrust in deep and then held himself in there as though to ensure this moment would be forever etched in her memory. Skin against skin, heat against heat. It was then he growled words to truly enrage her….or make her his own.

“Beg for more….my sweet little whore.”



Artie:  No, no, no.. The legs that she had tried to keep clamped shut were spread apart, her hair gripped and head forced back.. Much like a panicked horse, her quick and hard breath as her chest would follow along.. her widened eyes that saw but did not see.. A spitting noise then a terrible feeling against her behind, a groan of both discontent and disgust coming freely through her lips… but nothing could have prepared her for the next act he would do, nothing had been said to give her the time to brace for such..

Immediately searing pain shot through her back entrance, a wild cry and scream mixed into one constricting her airways as it flung itself from her lips and into the air.. The pain trailed up her spine, even, her body giving a shudder as she appempted to buck him away.. but this did not work, his grip on her sandy tresses far too tight, her leash too short, to allow any sort of leeway. “No! Fuck!” Hips clashed against skin as the warlock pushed himself into her as deeply as he could, her own self not large enough to fully take in his length. So instead she would grip at the bin, her nails dragging against the metal..

Bandit was bleeding, she knew it.. the sensitive skin around her had likely torn as he’d forced his way into her, the stinging pain along with the dull throb enough to convince her of such.. Tears sprung to her eyes yet she did not cry.. This was merely a reaction to the pain, a natural one that she hated having.. But she did not cry. Instead she growled under her breath in pain, like a cat in heat as it gives a warning noise..

…my sweet little whore..

“You prick! I am not.. your anything!” Her features twisted into that of anger and hatred, trembles of both rage and pleasure rocking her body a bit underneath the male figure.. A hand would move then, gripping at his own on her breast as her nails would dig into the back of his hand, a frustrated cry coming from her lips as she clawed, despite being unable to see.. As if reminded of this she would attempt to jerk her head away from him, greeted by a forceful tug in retaliation that caused tears to spring to her eyes.. adding to those in his initial entrance thrust. “I will… I’ll kill you..” Her sex was practically dripping, the warmth of the liquid moving down her thighs more..

Oh, how her body told her that she was enjoying this while her mind wanted it to stop, the emotions of past overpowering.. You want this, you slut. That’s why you’re still letting him do this.. No, I can’t break free.. Don’t lie to yourself.. Feel your heartbeat.. Feel your quick breaths.. Note the pound of your chest as it constricts in anticipation.. the tensing of yourself around his member in you, the warmth of the thick liquid you give.. You want this.. No one owns me.. Especially not him.. Please.. not him.. Moan like the whore he wants you to be. You’re dying to.. At this her lips parted, but no sound came out, instead a quiet whimper that carried pain and struggle in its tone..



Razorbackwriter:  Bandit was by definition, the sweetest of all Raul’s conquests. She was like a Thoroughbred, bucking and snorting angrily as he set to break her in. This was what it was all about. The gripping of the hair and the way he had come up from behind, after teasing her so mercilessly from the front. A stinging attack that would leave her gasping, but at the same time only heighten his arousal to the point that he himself was becoming lost to her as she screamed obscenities at him. Bandit was so insanely tight, that it actually was painful for Raul to be in so far, but that made it all the sweeter. As Bandit tried to jerk her head away and the very hair that he had wound around his fingers was being pulled to the extreme, Raul changed tact, withdrawing himself fully from her bleeding buttocks. The fine crimson liquid now coating his proud and erect member, that he now wanted to force into her waiting wet sex. With an unnatural grunt of exertion, he picked her up from around her stomach, so that her gripping on the metal bin would hold her up slightly. Bandit tried to claw at the hand that was attached to her breast, but it was like a kitten scratching a lion. His strength building with the burst of testosterone now flooding his veins.

The little thief was incredibly light to pick up and now the Warlock had her positioned so that he may claim her and do what he intended. Fill her with his seed.

“I wish to die a small death within you….so you will get your wish.”

A loud growl and he forced himself into her waiting wetness, the lips parting to accommodate him as easily as a warm velvet glove. Her muscles surely would clamp down in protest as she spun out of control in a delirious sensation. Fighting her inner demon and bringing forth the tainted slut he knew was waiting. Any hip movement or bucking would be welcomed, as Raul tightened his grip on her hair.

~Pound pound pound~

Her body would be thrust forward and back as the Warlock began to take what he believed was rightfully his. His sweet thief. She was no longer screaming, but whimpering.

Raul had her and now he planned to abuse her till he was spent. His thickened girth spreading her insides as it delved hard into her womb. The Warlock bowed down and covered her back, his hot breath searing her skin below.



Artie:  Sickening. The feeling was sickening sweet, sickeningly terrifying.. “No! I won’t!” As if she had a choice in the matter, his member releasing itself from her only to thrust into the awaiting wetness.. as though it was his to begin with.. A noise of her juices parting ways around his member was heard, followed by a quick whimper of her own.. “Uhnn-nnhnn..” The thief would grip at the metallic, finding it unforgiving to her nails.. “No.. no..” The words in themselves were moans of beckoning, her brows furrowing as her eyes squeezed shut.. Was she softening to him? No.. she could not.

“P-please..” Though the word was a beg.. for what? Him to let her go or to go harder? Moments ago, the answer would have been clear.. now it was a muddled meaning.. mixed emotions.. The thief felt her breasts move and bounce with each thrust, creating a slight noise against the bin as the cold would sear her skin only to leave it.. Was she enjoying herself? No, you mustn’t.. Oh, but you must, you dirty, dirty.. little.. slut..

The light woman found herself stretching around him – even now pain seared up her very core.. oh, she hadn’t been screwed in so long, and it showed.. No man had touched this holy grail in time, none had succeeded in doing so.. Perhaps, if she had been more freeing with her body, she would not have been so responsive. The one thing that made her special to Raul was her undoing, her back arching against the heat that suddenly came to it..

Fight back! As if jerking a bit, Bandit’s leg would kick back, hitting him quite forcefully in the shin once more.. a feeble attempt, but only one she could muster, as her body bucked under him in protest, her stomach pushing against his arm in an attempt to have him release her.. “Let me.. go! Stop!” Pants had begun to show themselves as a burning started in her core.. so unconditioned.. she would be within orgasm’s grasp in moments if he continued.


Razorbackwriter:  There it was. The word that rang through the sounds of their skins slapping hard against each other. ~Please~ Raul certainly didn’t expect it, but all the same it made the game much more interesting. For every time she had said no, there was this inner cry of YES! Raul had plied her and stripped her bare, taken her in a fashion that showed no respect or care. But the Warlock was a devious soul. Raul knew she was suffering from mixed emotions and feelings, as she kicked back hard in a last ditch effort to show she still had a fighters spirit. He wanted the pain..he grew harder from it. Like snapping him back to reality with the force of her foot to his shin. But instead of buckling, this was when the Warlock changed direction again. He had been treating her like a rag doll. Taking her so she could not see his face to spit on….to stare into those eyes of his as he bared his teeth and smiled at her. All she could do, was see, feel, smell and react.

“Let me.. go! Stop!”

“My sweet whore…you will weep tears of joy!”

He took his hand from her breast, which had been scratched to bleeding by her own and moved it back down to her lower region which was heated and swollen from arousal. His fingers worked into the space between her lacquered lips, ripe with dew and he started to tease her sweet pea nub. The idea….she would react as any woman would when being pleasured both externally and internally. Oh he still had her gripped by the hair, but his fingers worked to bring her to a glorious crescendo. She would shed tears….a woman’s release after years of feeling nothing…..

Combining hypnotic hip movements that matched the pace of his fingers teasing, it would be a few moments before she finally caved and surrendered…..




Artie:  Bandit’s head would have throw itself back, working with the pull of his hand now.. “I’m going to–” In his grip she would buck, her eyes fluttering closed and opened quite rapidly as the heat began to intensify.. burning her core as it came from her legs and then her thighs, bursting out of her in an orgasm so intense her whole form shook despite his pin… and stillness. Complete silence, save the noise of his thrusts.. Her body tensed as it reared for the climax, her toes curling and her breath hitching.. all movement in her chest paused.. This. This was the true face of ecstasy, the feeling in its rawest form as her lips would part for the silence..

“Ahhnnnnnnnn!” The cry ripped through her lips after the hitch of her breath, her body immediately springing to life.. Even his grip could not hold her still as she pushed against his body, attempting to move away at the absolute of the feeling, the overriding intensity of the pleasure that took her in waves.. “Please! Please! I can’t.. It’s.. Nnnnn!” Too much. Her body thrashed against him, her nub sore at the rubbing he gave it.. The muscles of her womanhood clenched around him, as though begging him to release into her, prodding at his member and trying to give it the final push that would ensure what they were intended for.. the continuation of their kind.. But her arms moved wildly as she kicked at him, pushing at his arms and trying to move him back.. out of her..

A spurt of liquids had moved around his member at the complete.. fervor.. or her newest undoing. “Stop! Stop!” Though now she begged not because she did not want him, but because it was too much for the somewhat virgin woman to bear.. Would he continue and push her body’s responding limits, holding her still.. or would he give the releasing cool down that would surely lessen her reactions?


Razorbackwriter:  A gift unlike any other was to feel and experience the richness and fulfillment of Bandit’s climax. Raul had taken her to a new height from which she would have a dizzying descent. Her words, her mind spoke of how she would kill, but her body. it craved the attention, practically going into a primal frenzy that had her inner walls lock onto the Warlock’s length as it continued to tease her. The heat between them building, and Raul took in the moment that Bandit stopped making noise. All there was was the physical slapping of flesh. If anything, he was so very proud of her. He even loosened his grip on her golden hair, just so he could savor this all the more. In the midst of the wildness, there was an oasis where they moved in a dance as old as time itself.

Raul wanted to feel it all. No longer content with hunching over her. He knew that the feelings she would have would make her entire body react, and this was something he wanted to experience. As she pushed against his body, she was then gripped harshly, as his fingers slid out from between her mound and helped to bring her back up so that it rest to his own, while he still had himself deep inside of her.


She thrashed, kicked but to no avail. The spurt of her own liquids coupled with the fierce locking down on his member caused him to erupt in a way that was like the release of a geyser into her womb. As she was screaming for him to stop, his own release no doubt would cause another reaction in her. Thick, pulsating jets oozed in and filled her. His digits digging into her flesh as he made sure she could not escape his clutches. His chest heaved then he held his breath before crying out her name….her real name.

“BEATRIX! My only!”

She would not be able to see his face, but if she had….she would have been deeply shocked. The Warlock spasmed as he met her climax head on with his own. Their legs now coated with each other’s juices, as he continued to restrain her. The Warlock growled with a feeling of satisfaction….and contentment. There was no longer any doubt. She belonged to him.




Artie:  “N-noh..” The plea was halfhearted, her eyes fluttering a bit as waves of exhaustion rolled over her. The thief would pull on his arms, attempting to remove him.. but she held no energy. Even now her legs were limp.. If not for him holding her up, she would have surely fallen to the ground, the limbs of her legs no more than jello now.. Her muscles limp against him. Her shoulders slouched, her eyes struggling to stay open as they felt increasingly heavy..

“I am.. not yours..” Though her whole body was pressed into him, not exactly solidifying her case.. As if you have a choice? But you do, and you’re not taking it.. slave.. A growl, the thief pushing against Raul’s hands in a sudden burst of force.. He would let her go or she broke through his arms, either way.. Almost instantly she crumpled to the ground on all fours, shivering and shaking.. Another attempt to stand was met with another fall, her lips parting in a soft cry.. “Don’t.. Don’t touch me.” The thief would crawl for a moment and then stop, feeling completely.. and utterly.. pathetic..

She would pause, sitting and leaning against the wall behind her. Her head would rest against her shoulder as the weight of his act rested on her, one arm wrapping around her breasts to hide them as the other did the same for her soaked womanhood.. A look of disgust normally would come to her face, but instead shame took hold.

“You.. You did this..” Exposed. Her womanhood still throbbed in need as if begging for more, despite its previous release.. Her arms now covered, but her breasts were perked in arousal.. The once fiery thief appeared to be coming under a sort of stupor, appearing so much more fragile than beforehand.. The bloody mark of his bite not helping such..


Razorbackwriter:  Even after all that had happened between them, Bandit still had that last bout of energy to push herself away from the Warlock and land on the floor haphazardly. Like an animal on all fours, leaking from her sex into a puddle on the ground – her hair wild and her cheeks tainted with a red blush. A soft cry and she crawled from where the Warlock stood, her voice shaking as much as her body did. She didn’t want to be touched. Bandit felt dirty and used. The Warlock cocked his head slightly, before taking out a large square of cloth from his pocket and started to clean himself down slowly – wiping away any excess off his slightly flaccid member. Shame and disgust were etched upon Bandit’s face as she accused Raul of doing all this to her. But what she could not hide with her hands and arms was that she was still very much aroused by his attentions.

Raul crouched down so that they were eye level, his gaze penetrating as he said simply.

“I did what you needed…and still need.” Raul was being frank and to the point. He looked her over before deciding on how to deal with her now. To have her laying in her own excretions. There was no way he was going to simply let her lay there for the rest of the night. Bandit appeared to be losing her fire, being replaced with more of that drunken stupor. Raul snapped his fingers and spoke an incantation which caused a light breeze to pick up around them. Swirling papers and rubbish was soon replaced with what was a flying carpet. Gently he picked up the girl and lay her down upon the large mat, that easily supported her as though she weighed nothing at all. Raul fixed himself and was once again respectable, before joining her on the mat. He whispered the directions for where they were to go, and soon the carpet was flying off up and out of the alley to a destination of his choosing.

As he lay down beside her, he brought the girl into his arms, so that she was being spooned by him in a means of comfort and to help her go to sleep.





The Piano Guys – Paradise (Peponi) – African Style (ft. guest artist, Alex Boye)


From the Piano Guys.

The story behind the song:
Each time we write/arrange a tune we take a journey. We have to admit—this journey took us a lot further than we expected. Retracing our steps reveals several factors that made this a reality. As we started arranging it we had serious writer’s block. Perhaps some of the worst we’ve ever had. In fact, one day instead of writing we went around the entire studio with a can of WD-40 and coated every piece of metal to ensure that we were a squeak-free studio. Then on a whim we decided to back away and take an entirely new approach to the song—an African approach. It may seem random in retrospect, but at the time it was an exciting way to restart the arrangement. It was working, but our journey still was on foot until we called in Alex Boye, one of the most talented people we’ve ever met. Alex has this contagious energy that gave new life to the song and to us. He sings the tune in 4 different languages: Swahili, English, Yoruba (his mother’s native language), and Alex’s own African “scat” (we’ll call it…Scafrican) =) Most of the words you hear are translated from the lyrics in the original Coldplay Tune. We’re huge fans of Alex — We bet you are now too!
Follow Alex on Facebook here:…

When we had finished the arrangement we all agreed that listening to it was like taking a journey to somewhere remote and ruggedly beautiful. How were we to depict this with a cello, African percussion and, most difficult of all, a grand piano? We took a risky, but oh-so-valuable turn when we called in helicopters to air-lift us and our instruments where none had gone before! (Please excuse the Trek reference). Since no one had ever done this before where were we to go for advice? Well, we can tell you that Home Depot didn’t have a lot of answers (how disappointing) but we did clean them out of their strongest cable they had. We don’t mind telling you that when that helicopter began lifting our brand new-never-before-played grand piano into the air we couldn’t help close our eyes and cross our fingers. We consider a blessing of Heaven that it worked. I guess we figured that if it didn’t, maybe it could still be a viral video — “PIANO MOVE FAIL” =)

We’d like to thank from the bottom of our hearts, Duane Fielding who offered the helicopters and SkyHawk for not dropping the piano…:-) Half-way through the first day of shooting we discovered that, as typical guys, we had forgotten to bring ANY food or water to this remote location. We had two options: one, wrestle a mountain rodent and harvest cacti or two, starve. Duane, our head pilot, took pity on us. He took off (literally) and moments later landed in a Wendy’s parking lot, ordered 5 of everything (sadly, he couldn’t use the drive through)…took off again and brought us chicken sandwiches and hamburgers via airmail. Thank you Duane! Flying in your helicopter was a dream come true for us despite the lack of doors. =)

Filming location: (Southern Utah)

All the instruments you hear are REAL instruments. We wanted to be authentic about this. The following percussion instruments were used:

Djembe (drum)
Agogo bell (like a cow bell)
Udu (the porcelain vase-looking drum)
Guiro (gourd scraper)
Djabarra (shaker)
Rain stick
Pangi seed shaker (“goat toenails” or Unas)

Paradise (Mylo Xyloto) by Coldplay written by Guy Berryman, Jonny Buckland, Will Champion, And Chris Martin; Copyright Universal Music Mgb Songs And Upala Music, Inc.
Arrangement written and produced by Al van der Beek & Steven Sharp Nelson
Lead vocals: Alex Boye
Cello: Steven Sharp Nelson
Piano: Jon Schmidt
Percussion and backup vocals: Al van der Beek & Steven Sharp Nelson
Recorded, mixed & mastered by Al van der Beek at TPG Studio
Video Produced by Paul Anderson
Video filmed by Paul Anderson & Tel Stewart
Video edited by Paul Anderson & Tel Stewart

Father Tom – GS.


Scene setting : St Luke’s Cathedral.


Razorbackwriter:  Another Friday night has rolled around once more. It seemed that the bitter chill brought by the first days of snow had kept many of the die hard bingo ladies snuggled under blankets at home. The door to the church was open and a welcoming light shone from within. Only it was not as it truly appeared. Rufus had been setting out the wooden chairs for the procession of elderly that started to trickle in just after eight o’clock. The slow dragging of the wooden legs across the tiled stone floor creating a strange echo that resonated throughout the whole church. Rufus was more than just a bell ringer. Before being taken in by Father McGowan, he slept upon the streets and under bridges – pan handling when money was truly tight. Now, his future was brighter – somewhat. The Priest with the rugged looks and chiseled chin held a dark secret that the hunchback would come to discover, only by chance. None of this was spoken out in the open mind you. There are some whispers that should remain within the confessional – even if it is the Priest doing the confessing.

A long shadow hovered just above Rufus, who was putting the last chair into place on table ten.

“There we are Father. All’s ready. Are the sisters coming down tonight?”

The sisters he meant were the nuns that helped out at the Cathedral and were great supporters of the church’s bingo night. Father McGowan, or Father Tom as he was more commonly known folded his arms and stared down at his assistant with a look of disdain.

“No…they promised to deliver toys to the Children’s hospital. Bah. It’s just not the same without that brood of penguins.” Penguins being a pet name for what Father Tom referred to as the nuns. The sisters always made the tea and biscuit platters and handled the more annoying bingo ladies that often grated on Father Tom’s nerves. Rufus fidgeted nervously as he smiled up at the Priest. He knew what Father Tom would rather be doing this eve and it didn’t involve calling out bingo numbers. The Priest was a hunter. A hunter for God. The more souls he could send onto God…the better.

“I wouldn’t worry, Father. Saturday night is much better. More wicked sinners out and about. Heh. Right?”

If this was Rufus’s way of cheering the Priest up, it fell on death ears. No sooner had the hunchback spoken, when the first of the old bingo biddies started to parade through the door.

“Oooo Father Tom! You look handsome as ever. I’m feeling lucky in my waters tonight.” This was the first of many such compliments and the Priest faked a smile that would be sickly sweet.

“Just so long as you can hold your waters in till the end of the night, Mrs Jones.”

A light titter of laughter came from Mrs Jones, while the other ladies started taking their places and pulling out all manner of lucky charms, bingo marker pens and bottles of soda. The noisy chatter of the old moos, was like milking time at the shed. Slowly, the Priest made his way to the top table, where the bingo ball cage awaited. He took his seat and grumbled under his breath – low enough for no one to really notice. His hand reached for the crank and slowly he turned it as a wave of excitement went through the room.


“Two fat ladies…..eighty eight.”



Are you a good witch, or a bad witch? – SS.

Scene setting : Greed Castle.

co-written with Temp, Moo & Dessy.


Moo:  So it had worked. The pair were escorted directly to the throne room. Though they would not find who they had anticipated. Upon entering the room, they would see an almost average looking woman, save her beauty. Confusion set over both Serin’s and Oroan’s faces as they came to a stop in the entrance of the room. Oroan was nudged forward at that point, and he took a step forward before pausing. The guards wouldn’t be leaving, then.
“Where is Mammon?” his gruff voice asked. Where his eyebrows should have been, furrowed down in more confusion. Had he retired to his chambers? No–that didn’t matter. He mentally shrugged it off. If Mammon wasn’t here, it would be easier to collect the troublesome imp, who was standing feet away from the woman. Great. His eyes trailed over to her for a moment.

Serin remained silent, her expression unreadable. Though she would also gaze at her friend, longing to reach out for her. Nami! Her thoughts would reach the imp due to the close quarters.Disappear…we’ll be your distraction. Serin’s gaze would return to the woman as well, tilting her head slightly while the pair awaited an answer.


Temp:  Nami knew that there had to be some way out of this, and was determined to figure it out on her own. However, her thoughts completely trailed off as one of the people actually seemed to ‘stand up’ for her. Having her hands spared in exchange for a prison sentence was definitely an upgrade. She would definitely take one or the other, though being let off with a warning was definitely the best option. For a moment it sounded like the other woman, the one in charge, was going to reject the idea. This made her nervous…but then the woman went ahead and agreed. Well, this situation was turning out better than she thought it would. Her eyes had trailed around the room, and eventually back to the kinder of the two women. She was just about to ask for forgiveness, only to be completely thrown off by Serin and Oroan. This complicated things…sort of. Serin’s thoughts quickly flowed through Nami’s mind, which were about a distraction of sorts. Without giving it another thought, she once more turned invisible. She wasn’t about to leave empty handed though. Now invisible, she hopped back to the Chalice that she had originally gone for. It was quickly snatched by her, followed by her running towards the same place she entered the room from. Just like she had entered, she poofed out of the room and sprouted her wings. She would then descend to the ground below and find a place to hide while she waited for Serin and Oroan.


Dessy:  “I understand she is a thief, but I still find the punishment cruel.” Mariela said to Lydia again. She frowned as it seemed like Lydia was going to protest, but gave a smile when she agreed. “Alright. I’ll deal with her.” she said, watching Lydia walk off as she turned to look back at Nami. She looked at the girl, pursing her lips as she thought things through. She opened her mouth to speak, but the guards came in with a woman and a man, saying they were here about Gluttony. She turned to face them, putting her hands behind her back as the man was nudged forward.

She raised an eyebrow when he asked where Mammon was. “Mammon is dead. He died in the war at Wrath. Lydia is the new Princess of Greed, and she’s occupied at the moment.” she spoke with a soft and gentle tone in her voice. “May I ask who you are?” she then asked gently, She turned her head just in time to see Nami disappear, and the chalice leaving the throne room, and she jumped and took a step back from shock. “Guards. See if you can find her and the chalice, and bring her back here. Unharmed, please. I’ll be okay here.” she said, but wasn’t strict or mean while doing it. She gave them a light smile and nod, before they ran off. “Were you two with her?” she then asked, only out of curiosity. She had no plans of harming or hurting anyone. Actually, she wanted anything but that.


Razorbackwriter:  Scar shuffled along behind Lydia, sniffing as he did so. He thought it was strange how Lydia left Mariela to deal with the thief, especially since she appeared to be a tricky little thing. Lydia kept up her pace before turning into the grand study where Mammon spent much of his time. Old books, a large oak desk with comfortable leather chair in behind. It had a certain old world charm, and Lydia adapted to it quickly. She waltzed around the desk and sat herself down, fanning out her large skirt.

“Now…who to invite?” Lydia mused, taking out the quill from the ink well and brushing the feather end to her right cheek. Scar came to a stop, then had to ask; “Why did you leave the witch to deal the punishment, Mistress?”

Lydia stared at the alp blankly, then said with a dead pan voice. “Cause she has to learn. Not everyone is as good as she is, and I bet your bottom dollar that the thief has already made a run for it.” In fact, Lydia was almost certain of it. “If Mariela is to be Duchess of Greed, she needs to pick up a few skills. Think of this as a test.”

Only thing was it was a test that Mariela knew nothing about.

Lydia then took out a large pile of pretty papers, and started to write out invitations to the masked ball she had planned.



Moo:  “Dead..?” Oroan asked an open ended question, as if prompting the witch to explain it further. “War?” He shook his head slowly, confused. There had been a war in wrath, and they didn’t know about it? More so…they had found Belial’s corpse only yesterday. It had been ignorant of the two not to investigate it further. It seemed a ruckus was occurring between princes. “Who killed Belial?” he asked. “We found his corpse last night in the town square…only to be attacked by someone I’ve never seen before.” Normally the brute wouldn’t speak so much is so little time. He was known to be silent unless addressed, and even then, he was reserved. Information like this, however, would bring a more social side to him out.

Serin let out the softest breath possible, like a hidden sigh of relief. Nami had escaped. Although Serin hadn’t expected her to take the chalice along with her. Good girl, Nami… Golden hues turned back in time to notice the female before them had noticed, though a little too late. Nami would be safe before any guard reached the end of that hall. Hellhounds, though…that might have been different. Hopefully the imp had made it past the gates by the time they brought those out.
“We’re not with her,” Serin said easily. Her posture was relaxed as her gaze fixed on the woman’s eyes. “I’m Serin, and this is my friend…Oroan.” Her hand swept to the side of her to turn her palm over, gesturing to the brute. “Gluttony sent us with a message regarding the discovery of Belial’s corpse. But…it seems Greed knew much, much more than we had.” It was an easy lie, given the conversation Oroan had cooked up with his curiosity.
Indeed, her own curiosity was now peaked. Mostly in regards to who Lydia was and how she’d come into possession of the throne. But it was better left unanswered, she felt. Meeting the new princess…well…who knew what she was like. “We were sent with this message yesterday, but thanks to our attacker, we were forced to seek shelter for the night and make our way here as quickly as we could thereafter.”

Dessy:  “You didn’t know there was a war at Wrath?” Mariela asked with a confused expression. She was sure everyone knew about it, so hearing that someone didn’t shocked her. “You were attacked in the town square?” Mariela then asked. “What did this attacker look like?” she asked afterwards, turning her head to listen to Serin speak. She gave a nod of her head when she was done speaking, before turning to one of the guards that were left in the throne room. “Go get Lydia, please.” she asked, turning to look at Serin. “Princess Lydia would want to hear this news herself, especially about this “attacker” you are speaking about. She’d also do a much better job of informing you about the war than I would.”

The guard headed up to the study, knocking on the door until he was called in. “Your Highness, a man and a woman are in the throne room that showed up soon after that thief girl was caught. As soon as they entered the throne room, the thief disappeared, and they claim they have news from Gluttony. They also known nothing about the war. Mariela is with them now and sent me up here to inform you, thinking you’d want to talk with them yourselves.” he then spoke to the Princess, awaiting her answer.


Razorbackwriter:  The guards report had stopped Lydia dead in her tracks. The quill being placed firmly back into the ink well as she placed her hands on the desk and pushed herself to standing. Each sentence was making her look more and more like a volcano that was about to explode. First two strangers appeared with new of Guttony that knew nothing of the war, and the thief that Lydia had left in Mariela’s capable hands had done a vanishing act. Probably with the chalice as well.

“So….she sent you up here to fetch me to deal with the guests AND the runaway thief. Uh huh.”

Lydia practically flew around the desk, nearly knocking over Scar in her wake – what with her large dress and skirt taking up a lot of room. “Do I have to do everything myself?” She uttered as she left the study and raced down the corridor, then the winding stair case towards the throne room. As she passed her servants, they bowed and acknowledged her but with the speed she was going, you would think her ass was on fire.

Turning the last corner, she appeared in the doorway of the throne room and spotted the pair. A male of considerable size, and a slightly smaller female. There was no sign of the thief, but there was a very flustered looking Mariela. Lydia raised her chin as she entered the room, and made sure her voice was heard when she approached the trio.

“I have been informed that you both seek a word over Gluttony. Interesting. You know nothing of the war of Wrath,?”Lydia thought the war would be the talk of all the Kingdoms in hell. Taking out a fan and snapping it open, the Demon of Ambition fanned herself, while Scar snuck back into the room, sniffing around for the thief. She was nowhere to be found. Poor Mariela. So much for her good intent.

Lydia quirked a brow and then uttered; “Well…what do you both have to say for yourselves? Just what is it that you know of Gluttony?”



An Unlikely Ally – GS.


Scene setting – The New York Times Office, New York.


Razorbackwriter:  Waiting nervously outside the Editor’s office, Tommy sat twiddling his thumbs as Ms Braxton’s secretary kept stealing glances at the reporter. It wasn’t everyday that Tommy wanted a one on one with the editor and chief, but he couldn’t let this opportunity pass to break the story of the creature that killed Detective Rory Lismore. The only photos he had were from the envelope that Joey had sent to Frank and now the only real evidence that he had. Joey’s death making the chance another witness statement null and void. Tapping away on her computer, the secretary moved to click on the intercom when Ms Braxton’s voice filled the small outer office.

“Send him in, Cassie.”

Cassie motioned for Tommy to head into Ms Braxton’s office as the Editor was now ready to see him. Rising slowly, Tommy brushed down his suit, which he had now been wearing for two days. He really needed to go home at some point and change. Raising his closed fist to his mouth, he coughed politely before heading into Ms Braxton’s office.

One thing could be said about Ms Braxton, she had a very casual way about her, even though by her tone she was a real ball breaker. Tommy often wondered if she had been injecting herself with male hormones. Her husky voice often made him wonder about her sexuality. She never acted flirtatious…mainly cause she wasn’t into men. Seeing the slightly disheveled looking Tommy enter she said sharply. “Close the door.” Tommy didn’t wait to be told twice and closed the door with a light click before turning around to face her again. “Sit.” A single hand wave to the chair opposite her desk had him move like a dog in an obedience school. He walked across to the chair, pulling it out slightly before sitting himself down and taking out the envelope. At this point, Ms Braxton took her feet off of her desk and then eased back in her chair. She became hard and cold. Like a school principal. It was unsettling to say the least.

“Want to tell me why I had a call from one of the Commanders of the NYPD, Xo?” Ms Braxton’s eyes were as cold as ice as she stared him down. “He made mention that not only were you at a crime scene without authorization, but that you may have lifted evidence that has now been restricted from publication, due to a pending inquiry.”

Tommy swallowed hard as he internally was screaming. That scum sucking piece of shit had beat him to it. The photos he held in his hand…now useless. Tommy’s lips thinned as he fought to not speak his mind.

“I was at Joey Patone’s apartment when he was shot. I was about to conduct an interview…”

At this, Ms Braxton simply held up her hand. “You should know better than get tied up with the mob!” Tommy was walking on ice now, and he knew it. Joey Patone’s murder was already to be published the next day. “The Commander said that a….Detective Frank Malone was responsible and that he will be charged once the ballistics report comes back. Wait….why am I telling you this?”

Ms Braxton rose slowly from her chair and placed both hands down flat on the desk. “I’m assigning you to doing a report on New York’s hospitals. That way, you are doing a job I know you are capable of. Keep off the homicide cases and for God’s sake….STAY AWAY FROM DETECTIVE FRANK MALONE!”

Tommy could hardly believe what he was hearing. She knew that Frank was Tommy’s mate and always helped him out with leads on various cases. To threaten him to stay away from a friend was not at all part of his job description. He held his tongue and simply stared at his editor incredulously.

“That will be all.”

The Editor sat back down and then went about reading a new report on her desk, as Tommy left her office quietly. He felt like a right dick….a coward. Shutting the door, he shook his head and walked past the secretary’s desk and headed back to his own office. It was a long walk. He was weighing up everything. Tommy believed in publishing the truth. Telling it like it was. But with a corrupt force and now his own Editor caught up in this madness, he wondered if he could ever do the right thing by his friend.

Reaching his office, he was shocked to see who was waiting for him.

A beautiful looking Chinese woman, wearing an expensive Chanel suit. She was flitting through a Time magazine lazily and had a smug look on her face as she placed it down on Tommy’s desk.

“Poor Tommy. You don’t know what you got yourself into…do you?” The woman spoke with a slight accent that showed her origins from Hong Kong. Tommy let out an exasperated breath. How on earth she made it into his office without being noticed was beyond him. Mind you, two well dressed men were loitering about in the corridor. They must be her men. It all started falling into place.

“Shame about Joey. Really. I was surprised to hear that your friend is being fitted up.”

Tommy closed the door, knowing that Madame Rose Li knew a lot more about the death of Joey Patone than anyone. “So why are you here, Rose? Not like you to come out during the day. I thought you only came out at night.” Tommy hinting that the woman was a nocturnal creature…a true lady of the night. Madame Rose laughed and rose from her chair, gliding across the floor to stand before Tommy. She smelt beautiful. Like an exotic flower, but anyone would know that she was deadly.

“Is that how you talk to family?” Madame Rose had once been married to Tommy’s brother who had died a year earlier. it was probably a good thing, since it was a match made in hell. Tommy would not have been surprised if Rose had a hand in it. Rose reached out to caress Tommy’s cheek and he snatched her wrist.

“Cut the crap, Rose.” Tommy snarled as Rose laughed at him with a slight giggle. “You always were more dominant than Jack. I guess that is why I always had a soft spot for you.” Tommy released Rose’s hand as she brought it down and rubbed her wrist with her free hand. Tommy turned away from Rose as she took out a parcel and dumped it on the table, almost haphazardly.

“If you want to save your friend….you need something incriminating of that….Commander. Oh yes, I know all about it. How he is trying to fit up your friend….Frank. Frank’s innocent. Sad…but innocent. You’ll find what you need in that parcel. You can thank me later.”

Smirking, Rose snatched up her Gucci purse and headed to the door, stopping to look back over her shoulder.

“Feel free to drop by the club. I’d love to dance one last dance with you.”

With that…she left.

Tommy stared at the package on the desk and hesitated before picking it up. He tore off the seal and there inside was a DVD…..and a lot of pictures. Pictures of the Commander in a compromising position at Rose’s club.

“Why that sick fuck?” Tommy murmured as he leafed through the pictures.

“Is that a goat?”



Disappear – GS.


Scene setting : Big Joe’s Pizzeria

co-written with Chor.


Chor:   Isa was viciously reminded of her utter starvation the second her foot crossed the threshold. The wind displacement sent a breeze of warm, doughy scent straight to her nostrils and she fought the urge to order and purchase every slice of pizza in the joint. The odd looks she received snapped her mostly out of it and she seated herself in a secluded corner table. Isa had a very unorthodox style about her. She didn’t consider herself beautiful, product of a long, relationship-less life and years of emotional abuse, but she was charming and lovely in a way that drew you to her. If she bothered to eat now and again, she might fill out and stop looking like a corpse herself.

Style wasn’t really in her strong suits; the mess of clothes she called her wardrobe were not of the conventional sort. She wore things for the simple fact that she had to. Another thing that could put her off to people is her tattoos. Now, in an age where mainstream society is basically past the whole ‘tattoos are bad’ idea, her inkings are still a bit much. She’s riddled with symbols, a strange language no one can understand; not even her. It’s not obvious unless she’s in a tank top, but they cover much of her arms as well as her back. Today, though, Isa actually looked presentable. Hair braided loosely until it rested in a ponytail just past her clavicle, a black blouse and a black pencil skirt to match with comfortable flats.

Can I get ‘ya anything, love?” a pleasant-looking woman inquired of Isa. With a shake of her head, Isa dismissed the offer of food. She had to focus, despite her stomach violently grumbling in protest. The woman shook her head, having heard the noise, and stepped away muttering ‘damn shame’. Did she think Isa to have an eating disorder. Do I have an eating disorder? Sighing, Isa pushed these troublesome thoughts from her mind and awaited Frank’s appearance.


Razorbackwriter:  Having rushed back to his apartment to have a quick shower and change into a fresh suit, Frank took a cab to the Pizzeria rather than take his own car. It would be easier to lose anyone following him if he was in a non descript taxi than a car that would be recognizable. The yellow cab pulled up at the curb, and the asian driver sung out that Frank owed twelve dollars for the fare. The cost of everything seemed to have skyrocketed of late and Frank fumbled about in his coat to find the right change. Handing over the cash, Frank got out of the cab and slammed the door, before looking up and down the street for sign of Isa. He couldn’t see her in amongst the crowd and decided to head inside and wait for her.

No one could be more surprised than Big Joe, to see Frank coming back into the Pizza shop so soon. He came out from behind the counter, and tossed his checkered tea towel over his shoulder.“Franka….whata you doin’s backa here?” It was not that Big Joe didn’t want to see Frank, he just figured he would be at work. Frank slapped Big Joe’s arm in a friendly manner and then gestured to a booth at the back. “Would you believe your pizza is simply too good to stay away from?’

This brought a loud laugh from Big Joe. “Ha you fulla tha bullshit.” Both men had a good chuckle as they both took a seat. Big Joe had his teen son working out back and Joe had a few moments to spare. “Where is Tommy boy, eh?” Joe asked, now curious as to what Frank was up to. He hadn’t ordered anything yet and seemed a touch flustered. Like he was looking out for someone. “Tommy’s back at his office. I’d say he has a deadline to meet.”

Joe nodded slowly and then said. “Uh huh.”

Both men sat in silence for a moment and then Big Joe smiled brightly. “You still looka like shit. I get you a coffee.”Always hospitable. That was Big Joe.

“Thanks, Joe.”

Left on his own in the booth, he drummed his fingers on the table, looking towards the door….waiting for Isa.



Chor:  It was not long until the door opened once more and through it came a very fresh-looking Frank Malone. He looked good all cleaned up, healthier than when she last saw him. Isa wondered if that’s how people thought of her…

He had not noticed her yet and she stood and, as he seated himself, ventured over. Settling herself across from him, Isa leaned back in her seat. The urgency of the situation still held in her demeanor, but in this place she felt about forty-seven percent safer than the station. Shortly after her arrival at the table, a cup of coffee also joined them. She stared at it and then up at the woman who’d asked for her order earlier. The girl gave her another once-over before stepping away to attend to the rest of the building’s patrons. Isa’s attention returned completely to Frank, then.

“How are you doing?” she asked, then thinking better of it. Stress, she could see, exuded from him like cologne. She, though, was not bothered by it; it’s almost charming when you wear the same, tense scent. Her left hand opened, like a cage door squeaking after being closed for a thousand year, and the flash drive fell out of it and onto the table in his direction. One blink. Two.

“This is the ballistics report. I haven’t been able to do an autopsy yet, but the findings will be the same. As long as we have this, it can’t be disputed. Bracks is probably having a conniption at the moment, trying to find a way to make it disappear…” She spoke, licking her lips afterward. Bracks was good at making things disappear.


Razorbackwriter:  The clatter of the coffee cup being placed on the table broke the silence as Isa sat down at Frank’s booth. He’d been watching the door and hadn’t bothered to check the restaurant for Isa. She must have been there before him. Was he slipping not to notice her right away? Thankfully clean shaven, Frank didn’t feel like a total scrub sitting there. In fact, he was wearing his best suit. He wasn’t planning to go back into work that day… he had other plans. In a way, Frank was pleased to see Isa, and in another he wasn’t. Guilt was now weighing heavily upon him, and this would probably be the last time they would meet, though he was not about to let her onto that…not yet. “How are you doing?” Sweet girl. Frank thought. Caring about a bloke like him. He was honest in his answer.“Seen better days.” The answer was short and too the point. He wasn’t about to get into some long winded speech. The time for talking long gone. Frank was a marked man and he knew it. Seeing the flash drive fall out onto the table had Frank stare at it for a moment, before raising his gaze up to Isa’s.

“This is the ballistics report. I haven’t been able to do an autopsy yet, but the findings will be the same. As long as we have this, it can’t be disputed. Bracks is probably having a conniption at the moment, trying to find a way to make it disappear…”

That one word. Disappear. A word to describe the past….the present and the not to distant future. Frank pursed his lips as he heard that Bracks was probably working on a way to make it…the report, disappear. The detective let out a long sigh before reaching across the table and slowly dragging the flash drive up into his hand – closing his fingers around it. It was a brave thing the girl was doing to hand him the report in a flash drive. All things considered. Frank turned his wrist and opened his fingers slightly enough to look at the flash drive, before then closing them again and stuffing the evidence into his pocket. In a way, it was his life insurance policy. Frank had forgotten all about the coffee cup that was sitting before him. He appeared distracted, like his mind was playing out what he had to do and yet he remained perfectly still. It took a moment for him to speak, as though this was the hardest thing he ever had to say.

“You’re a great gal for doing this, Isa. But…now I want you to forget about me. I’m going to do the same thing that report is going to do, till such time as I have enough evidence to take THEM all down. There is no point being a just man in a crooked police force. “

Frank took out a twenty dollar bill and placed on the table. He had still yet to touch his coffee. Frank offered Isa a warm smile…a smile of goodbye.

Standing, he said simply. “If anyone asks….you never saw me.”

With that, he headed out the door.



Chor:  Isa could only blink silently as the world whizzed around her. Frank left her sitting there, bewildered, hands flat on the chipped wooden booth table. Words did not come to her. Thoughts, too, sat huddled with her confused feelings and refused to comply.
Standing, that was good. She stood and walked out the door, catching him jump into a Taxi like he was joining the Olympics. She found a cabbie idling in front of the place, probably waiting for a late patron. He wore a scowl as she approached the window, hoping to grab his services.

“Just get in, hun. Where to?” He said, as if reading her face. She pointed blankly at the taxi now motoring away from the site and climbed into the ripped vinyl backseat, wincing as the cracked coating scraped against her exposed flesh.

“Oh, you’re that type, huh?” He said, chuckling wildly like this was some sort of conquest of love and she was some sort of hero. There was still fight in her, yet. Frank might not see it, but Isa has a deep, deep well of focus that has latched onto him. She can’t let it go; she doesn’t have the ability to just give up now. Besides, she still has one more trick up her white sleeve. Or in her pocket, rather…




I’ll take the fall – GS.


Scene setting : Elissa’s apartment.

co-written with VunG and Chor.


VunG:  Even as she finally got the darn bottle open and got a couple aspirins in her, Elissa couldn’t help but feel like she was about to just die of exhaustion. How often was she going to have to deal with these sorts of injuries? It was like she was doomed to hospital bills that looked like the Magna Carta. Sighing softly to herself, she looked up at the sound of Frank saying he was taking off. Suppose that was natural, and she was definitely grateful for all he’d already done for her; she had to admit that she almost wanted him to stay, but she wasn’t about to force him or even attempt to convince him.

She exited the bathroom and headed straight over to him, and was about to shake his hand, maybe give him a hug before he left, when he received a phone call. Immediately, just from the expression on Frank’s face she could tell that something was amiss. Wincing and groaning, she walked over to the fridge, resigning herself to what was likely going to be an even longer day. She didn’t know why, but she had a feeling that things weren’t over just yet… so much for rest. Reaching in, she was about to grab a bottle of Dogfish Head ale… but stopped remembering all the medication that was probably in her and just grabbed some water. Why did she feel like she was about to get dragged into more of this madness?


Chor:  “I’ve got the report. Bracks is less than pleased and I have no doubt he’ll soon attempt to wipe the whole department of its existence. Or mine…” The last notes of her phrase she spoke a slight but quieter. The metal bit in her hand dug into her skin as her body used her fingers to shield and protect this item of extreme importance. She ducked out of the view of many passersby and let her gaze pass through the alley before she continued speaking.
“Is there a way we might meet? I need this information to reach you and I have trust in the notion that my computer has already been cleaned.” Her voice was calm, but serious nearly to the point of fright.


Razorbackwriter:  “I’ve got the report. Bracks is less than pleased and I have no doubt he’ll soon attempt to wipe the whole department of its existence. Or mine…” Isa said as Frank’s face grew grim. He should have known that the Commander was truly against him and that he would do whatever he could to make the real evidence of his innocence vanish. As Frank held the phone to his ear, he watched Elissa wincing and making painful sounds as she went to get a drink from her fridge. The poor girl. Frank had put her through enough and she needed rest. That was painfully obvious. As much as Frank wanted to stay with her, he knew that his own carrer and that of Isa’s was now on the line. Possibly their lives.
“Is there a way we might meet? I need this information to reach you and I have trust in the notion that my computer has already been cleaned.” Her voice was calm, but serious nearly to the point of fright. Frank heard the fear in her voice and knew that she was in way over her head on this one. He already had the guilt of Elissa being hurt from his actions, and now another woman was in trouble. He refused to let another take the fall for him. Raising his head slightly, Frank knew what he had to do.

“Meet me at Big Joe’s Pizzeria in an hour. I need to run home and change. You give me what you have, and I will let you know what I plan to do with it.” There was an air of finality in his voice….like he had just made up his mind on how to end this nightmare. Once and for all. Closing the call, he looked back at Elissa. It was like seeing a man walking the green mile.

“I wish I had more time to explain, but….I just want to say….it was nice knowing you.” Frank didn’t move to embrace her or touch her in anyway. He grabbed his coat and headed for the door. Pausing a moment before opening it, then walking out to the hall, closing the door behind him.



VunG:  Elissa watched the man as he talked with the woman on the other end, and immediately her eyebrows were furrowed as she tried to figure out what was going on. She strained to hear the words on the other end, but to no avail. However, when she heard the directions, she also heard the doom in Frank’s voice, and all sleepiness was gone from her eyes as she realized that he was planning something. Of course, her first thought was that he would at least try to include her in at least explaining, some way for her to help him even if she was stuck here. But then… she saw the look in his eyes… the same one that had been in her mirror the morning she returned to work for the last time.

Even as he began moving to leave she tried to scramble after him, but found her sleepiness and blood loss taking its toll on her, and she had to stop. His words taunted her, and as his back turned she glared burning arrows in his head, frantically hoping that her thoughts made it to him: Don’t do it. Don’t go throwing your life away! She knew what it was like! She regretted her decision! She should’ve just quit from the force the day of her husband’s death, it would’ve served everyone better! If chasing Rory’s shadow was going to get him killed, THEN STOP CHASING! “STOP!” she hissed furiously as he closed the door. Running forward, she reached for the door handle only to have her vision begin to double up and she fell against it with a heavy thud. She slowly slid down the front of the door to her knees, giving it a good punch with her good hand before finally admitting defeat.

She wanted to scream! She needed to scream! She refused to let someone else die because of her failure! Part of her wanted tears to at least give voice, but not even those would come forward, she was just left silently fuming at Frank for his bull-headedness. She had no idea what he was planning, but… but she could tell from the look in his eyes it wasn’t anything good. She had to stop him, or at least help him and think it through with him! But… she couldn’t… because she’d failed. She was useless.

Slowly she walked over to her bed, and flopped down onto it, admitting defeat, her thoughts continuing to scream at her until she finally went to sleep.

Tim Minchin – White wine in the Sun.


This is a Christmas song with a difference.  Tim Minchin’s “White wine in the Sun.”

A sentimental song about Christmas. This version is taken from the Australian ‘Ready For This?’ DVD. As in previous years, all proceeds from the sale of this song during the months of November, December and January, every year, go to the National Autistic Society (NAS).

December 2012: “It’s been six years since I wrote my little tribute to Christmas, and I’ve finally recorded a studio version. Huzzah!” – Tim Minchin.

I really like Christmas
It’s sentimental, I know, but I just really like it
I am hardly religious
I’d rather break bread with Dawkins than Desmond Tutu, to be honest

And yes, I have all of the usual objections
To consumerism, the commercialisation of an ancient religion
To the westernisation of a dead Palestinian
Press-ganged into selling Playstations and beer
But I still really like it

I’m looking forward to Christmas
Though I’m not expecting a visit from Jesus

I’ll be seeing my dad
My brother and sisters, my gran and my mum
They’ll be drinking white wine in the sun
I’ll be seeing my dad
My brother and sisters, my gran and my mum
They’ll be drinking white wine in the sun

I don’t go in for ancient wisdom
I don’t believe just ‘cos ideas are tenacious it means they’re worthy
I get freaked out by churches
Some of the hymns that they sing have nice chords but the lyrics are spooky

And yes I have all of the usual objections
To the mis-education of children who, in tax-exempt institutions,
Are taught to externalise blame

And to feel ashamed and to judge things as plain right and wrong
But I quite like the songs

I’m not expecting big presents
The old combination of socks, jocks and chocolate’s is just fine by me

Cos I’ll be seeing my dad
My brother and sisters, my gran and my mum
They’ll be drinking white wine in the sun
I’ll be seeing my dad
My brother and sisters, my gran and my mum
They’ll be drinking white wine in the sun

And you, my baby girl
My jetlagged infant daughter
You’ll be handed round the room
Like a puppy at a primary school
And you won’t understand
But you will learn someday
That wherever you are and whatever you face
These are the people who’ll make you feel safe in this world
My sweet blue-eyed girl

And if my baby girl
When you’re twenty-one or thirty-one
And Christmas comes around
And you find yourself nine thousand miles from home
You’ll know what ever comes

Your brothers and sisters and me and your Mum
Will be waiting for you in the sun
Whenever you come
Your brothers and sisters, your aunts and your uncles
Your grandparents, cousins and me and your mum
We’ll be waiting for you in the sun
Drinking white wine in the sun
Darling, when Christmas comes
We’ll be waiting for you in the sun
Drinking white wine in the sun
Waiting for you in the sun
Waiting for you…

I really like Christmas
It’s sentimental, I know…