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I'm a specialist, you see...
fxckingmoran:
“Both? That’s quite the caffeine hit. When’s the last time you slept? Or do I not want to know?” Sebastian pushed himself up out of the sofa, concerned eyes following Jim as he stepped down from the ladder. “Did you not hear your alarms?” Worrying about his boss turned close companion had become a daily part of his schedule at this stage. Keeping him safe from enemies was the easy part. Keeping him alive at home was a whole other story though. Fucker would forget to eat and sleep if he wasn’t reminded.
“And yet it’s my annoying ass that’s keeping you alive. So, you’re welcome.” He flashed a grin in Jim’s direction before gesturing in the direction of the bathroom. “Go freshen up, I mean this in the most loving way - You look like shit.” He moved over to pour himself a whiskey, grabbing the first bottle he could find. “ I’ll have the tea and coffee ready for you when you come out.” The glass was drained in a few seconds, a contented sigh leaving his lips before he poured himself another. “Fuck me. If I could go back in time I’d probably go back and shag whoever invented whiskey. As a thank you for blessing the world with it.” A smaller sip this time. “I mean, it’d be easier for your fussy arse to just tell me what you want.” A cheeky wink followed. “Indian? Wouldn’t mind a chicken tikka.” Long legs strode over to the sofa again, grabbing his phone from the table along the way. “Could go for Chinese either.“
𝙸𝚗𝚜𝚝𝚎𝚊𝚍 𝚘𝚏 𝚊𝚗𝚜𝚠𝚎𝚛𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚑𝚎 𝚝𝚘𝚜𝚜𝚎𝚍 𝚑𝚒𝚜 𝚞𝚜𝚎𝚕𝚎𝚜𝚜 𝚙𝚑𝚘𝚗𝚎 𝚒𝚗𝚝𝚘 𝚂𝚎𝚋𝚊𝚜𝚝𝚒𝚊𝚗’𝚜 𝚑𝚊𝚗𝚍𝚜. 𝚃𝚑𝚎 𝚜𝚌𝚛𝚎𝚎𝚗 𝚕𝚒𝚝 𝚞𝚙 𝚊𝚗𝚍 𝚍𝚒𝚜𝚙𝚕𝚊𝚢𝚎𝚍 𝚑𝚒𝚜 𝚜𝚎𝚕𝚏-𝚗𝚎𝚐𝚕𝚒𝚐𝚎𝚗𝚌𝚎. 𝙷𝚎 𝚗𝚎𝚎𝚍𝚎𝚍 𝚊 𝚗𝚎𝚠 𝚝𝚊𝚌𝚝𝚒𝚌. 𝙰 𝚟𝚒𝚋𝚛𝚊𝚝𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚠𝚛𝚒𝚜𝚝𝚋𝚊𝚗𝚍 𝚙𝚎𝚛𝚑𝚊𝚙𝚜? 𝙾𝚛 𝚊 𝚋𝚞𝚝𝚕𝚎𝚛 𝚝𝚘 𝚏𝚘𝚕𝚕𝚘𝚠 𝚑𝚒𝚖 𝚊𝚋𝚘𝚞𝚝 𝚠𝚒𝚝𝚑 𝚠𝚊𝚝𝚎𝚛 𝚊𝚗𝚍 𝚏𝚘𝚘𝚍, 𝚌𝚊𝚛𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚏𝚘𝚛 𝚑𝚒𝚖 𝚊𝚜 𝚝𝚑𝚘𝚞𝚐𝚑 𝚑𝚎 𝚠𝚎𝚛𝚎 𝚜𝚘𝚖𝚎 𝚠𝚊𝚢𝚠𝚊𝚛𝚍 𝚙𝚕𝚊𝚗𝚝 𝚠𝚒𝚝𝚑 𝚕𝚎𝚐𝚜. 𝙷𝚎 𝚊𝚗𝚍 𝚙𝚕𝚊𝚗𝚝𝚜 𝚑𝚊𝚍 𝚜𝚒𝚖𝚒𝚕𝚊𝚛 𝚌𝚘𝚗𝚟𝚎𝚛𝚜𝚊𝚝𝚒𝚘𝚗𝚊𝚕 𝚜𝚔𝚒𝚕𝚕𝚜.
𝙰 𝚜𝚊𝚛𝚌𝚊𝚜𝚝𝚒𝚌 𝚕𝚘𝚘𝚔 𝚎𝚕𝚎𝚐𝚊𝚗𝚝𝚕𝚢 𝚌𝚘𝚗𝚝𝚘𝚛𝚝𝚎𝚍 𝚑𝚒𝚜 𝚏𝚊𝚌𝚎 --- 𝚠𝚑𝚒𝚌𝚑 𝚠𝚊𝚜 𝚙𝚎𝚛𝚏𝚎𝚌𝚝𝚕𝚢 𝚜𝚑𝚊𝚙𝚎𝚍 𝚏𝚘𝚛 𝚜𝚊𝚛𝚌𝚊𝚜𝚖 --- 𝚊𝚗𝚍 𝚑𝚎 𝚜𝚌𝚘𝚏𝚏𝚎𝚍. “𝚃𝚑𝚊𝚗𝚔 𝚢𝚘𝚞, 𝚂𝚎𝚋𝚊𝚜𝚝𝚒𝚊𝚗, 𝚏𝚘𝚛 𝚔𝚎𝚎𝚙𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚖𝚎 𝚊𝚕𝚒𝚟𝚎, 𝚘𝚏 𝚊𝚕𝚕 𝚝𝚑𝚒𝚗𝚐𝚜.” 𝙷𝚎 𝚑𝚒𝚍 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚐𝚎𝚗𝚞𝚒𝚗𝚎 𝚜𝚖𝚒𝚕𝚎 𝚋𝚢 𝚊𝚋𝚛𝚞𝚙𝚝𝚕𝚢 𝚝𝚞𝚛𝚗𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚊𝚛𝚘𝚞𝚗𝚍 𝚊𝚗𝚍 𝚠𝚊𝚕𝚔𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚊𝚠𝚊𝚢. 𝙹𝚊𝚖𝚎𝚜 𝚠𝚊𝚜 𝚑𝚊𝚕𝚏-𝚠𝚊𝚢 𝚘𝚞𝚝 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚕𝚊𝚛𝚐𝚎 𝚛𝚘𝚘𝚖 𝚋𝚎𝚏𝚘𝚛𝚎 𝚂𝚎𝚋𝚊𝚜𝚝𝚒𝚊𝚗 𝚙𝚘𝚞𝚛𝚎𝚍 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚏𝚒𝚛𝚜𝚝 𝚜𝚑𝚘𝚝. “𝚈𝚎𝚜, 𝚢𝚎𝚜 𝚜𝚑𝚊𝚐 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚠𝚑𝚒𝚜𝚔𝚎𝚢 𝚊𝚏𝚝𝚎𝚛 𝚢𝚘𝚞 𝚘𝚛𝚍𝚎𝚛 𝚖𝚎 𝚊 𝚌𝚞𝚛𝚛𝚢.” 𝙰 𝚍𝚒𝚜𝚖𝚒𝚜𝚜𝚒𝚟𝚎 𝚠𝚊𝚟𝚎 𝚠𝚊𝚜 𝚝𝚘𝚜𝚜𝚎𝚍 𝚏𝚕𝚒𝚙𝚙𝚊𝚗𝚝𝚕𝚢 𝚘𝚟𝚎𝚛 𝚑𝚒𝚜 𝚜𝚑𝚘𝚞𝚕𝚍𝚎𝚛. 𝙸𝚝 𝚠𝚎𝚗𝚝 𝚠𝚒𝚝𝚑𝚘𝚞𝚝 𝚜𝚊𝚢𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚝𝚑𝚊𝚝 𝚑𝚒𝚜 𝚏𝚘𝚘𝚍 𝚜𝚑𝚘𝚞𝚕𝚍 𝚊𝚋𝚜𝚘𝚕𝚞𝚝𝚎𝚕𝚢 𝚗𝚘𝚝 𝚌𝚘𝚗𝚝𝚊𝚒𝚗 𝚙𝚒𝚗𝚎𝚊𝚙𝚙𝚕𝚎 𝚍𝚞𝚎 𝚝𝚘 𝚊𝚕𝚕𝚎𝚛𝚐𝚢. 𝚂𝚘 𝚑𝚎 𝚍𝚒𝚍𝚗’𝚝. 𝙸𝚗𝚜𝚝𝚎𝚊𝚍 𝙹𝚊𝚖𝚎𝚜, 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚖𝚘𝚜𝚝 𝚒𝚗𝚏𝚊𝚖𝚘𝚞𝚜 𝚊𝚗𝚍 𝚢𝚎𝚝 𝚞𝚗𝚔𝚗𝚘𝚠𝚗 𝚌𝚛𝚒𝚖𝚒𝚗𝚊𝚕 𝚖𝚊𝚜𝚝𝚎𝚛𝚖𝚒𝚗𝚍, 𝚍𝚎𝚍𝚒𝚌𝚊𝚝𝚎𝚍 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚎𝚗𝚝𝚒𝚛𝚎𝚝𝚢 𝚘𝚏 𝚑𝚒𝚜 𝚖𝚎𝚗𝚝𝚊𝚕 𝚎𝚗𝚎𝚛𝚐𝚢 𝚒𝚗𝚝𝚘 𝚜𝚑𝚘𝚠𝚎𝚛𝚒𝚗𝚐.
𝚃𝚑𝚎 𝚠𝚊𝚝𝚎𝚛 𝚜𝚌𝚊𝚕𝚍𝚎𝚍 𝚊𝚠𝚊𝚢 𝚍𝚊𝚢𝚜 𝚘𝚏 𝚏𝚒𝚕𝚝𝚑. 𝙹𝚊𝚖𝚎𝚜 𝚗𝚞𝚖𝚋𝚎𝚍 𝚑𝚒𝚖𝚜𝚎𝚕𝚏 𝚝𝚘 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚏𝚎𝚎𝚕𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚘𝚏 𝚜𝚑𝚊𝚖𝚎 𝚢𝚎𝚊𝚛𝚜 𝚊𝚐𝚘 𝚋𝚞𝚝 𝚊𝚗 𝚒𝚗𝚔𝚕𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚖𝚊𝚗𝚊𝚐𝚎𝚍 𝚝𝚘 𝚌𝚛𝚎𝚎𝚙 𝚝𝚑𝚛𝚘𝚞𝚐𝚑. 𝙷𝚎 𝚊𝚋𝚜𝚘𝚕𝚞𝚝𝚎𝚕𝚢 𝚛𝚎𝚎𝚔𝚎𝚍. 𝙰 𝚏𝚛𝚘𝚠𝚗. 𝙸𝚝 𝚠𝚊𝚜 𝚊 𝚠𝚘𝚗𝚍𝚎𝚛 𝚠𝚑𝚢 𝚂𝚎𝚋𝚊𝚜𝚝𝚒𝚊𝚗 𝚙𝚞𝚝 𝚞𝚙 𝚠𝚒𝚝𝚑 𝚑𝚒𝚜 𝚗𝚘𝚗𝚜𝚎𝚗𝚜𝚎. 𝙰𝚑 𝚠𝚎𝚕𝚕! 𝙼𝚘𝚗𝚎𝚢 𝚜𝚘𝚘𝚝𝚑𝚎𝚍 𝚊𝚕𝚕 𝚊𝚌𝚑𝚎𝚜 𝚊𝚗𝚍 𝚋𝚎𝚜𝚒𝚍𝚎𝚜, 𝚝𝚑𝚊𝚝’𝚜 𝚠𝚑𝚊𝚝 𝚖𝚊𝚝𝚎𝚜 𝚍𝚒𝚍 --- 𝚜𝚖𝚎𝚕𝚕𝚎𝚍 𝚎𝚊𝚌𝚑 𝚘𝚝𝚑𝚎𝚛’𝚜 𝚍𝚒𝚜𝚐𝚞𝚜𝚝𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚋𝚘𝚍𝚢 𝚘𝚍𝚘𝚛 𝚎𝚟𝚎𝚛𝚢 𝚗𝚘𝚠 𝚊𝚗𝚍 𝚝𝚑𝚎𝚗.
𝙷𝚎 𝚎𝚡𝚒𝚝𝚎𝚍 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚋𝚊𝚝𝚑𝚛𝚘𝚘𝚖 𝚏𝚘𝚛𝚝𝚢 𝚖𝚒𝚗𝚞𝚝𝚎𝚜 𝚕𝚊𝚝𝚎𝚛 𝚍𝚛𝚎𝚜𝚜𝚎𝚍 𝚒𝚗 𝚊 𝚏𝚛𝚎𝚜𝚑 𝚜𝚎𝚝 𝚘𝚏 𝚌𝚕𝚘𝚝𝚑𝚎𝚜. 𝚃𝚑𝚎 𝚜𝚖𝚎𝚕𝚕 𝚘𝚏 𝙸𝚗𝚍𝚒𝚊𝚗 𝚏𝚘𝚘𝚍 𝚊𝚗𝚍 𝚌𝚘𝚏𝚏𝚎𝚎 𝚖𝚊𝚍𝚎 𝚑𝚒𝚜 𝚜𝚝𝚘𝚖𝚊𝚌𝚑 𝚝𝚠𝚒𝚜𝚝. “𝙱𝚎𝚝𝚝𝚎𝚛?”
What part of your morning routine takes the longest?
Finding the will to live.
fxckingmoran:
The job had ended up being more complicated than he thought it’d be. Stupid fucker had hired security. When would they learn that that wouldn’t be enough to stop Sebastian Moran? If anything he relished the challenge. Meant more of a chance to show off. He’d positioned himself on the roof, watching the security team act like they knew what they were doing. The thick fucks thought they’d be safest on a higher floor – All that did was make it easier for the sniper. Four quick shots and they were all dead. Four flicks of the trigger was all it took for Sebastian Moran to end four lives. No wonder he had a God complex.
He arrived back at the penthouse a little after midnight, a soft curse leaving his lips as the door slammed shut behind him. His bag was slung over his shoulder, his shirt sleeves rolled up and tie loosened as he strutted into the room looking entirely pleased with himself. “Ran into a bit of trouble. He hired security. Think he knew I was coming.” His bag dropped down beside the sofa with a thud, his foot kicking it neatly to the side before dropping down into the seat. He’d clean his gun tomorrow, right now all he wanted was a large whiskey. “Don’t worry though. Sorted them all.” Head tilted back against the cushion for a moment as his fingers lifted to pull off his tie and unbutton the first few shirt buttons.
Once he’d made himself comfortable enough his gaze lifted to watch Jim, an eyebrow arching. “Alright then, what’re you doing?” A gesture towards the writing on the window. “Take a fucking break, won’t you? Your incredible sniper just completed yet another perfect job, the least you can do is have a drink with me. Doesn’t even have to be alcoholic. I’ll make you tea, if you want. Or coffee. You look like you could use it.” A faint grin before his tone softened. “Did you eat dinner? Was thinking of ordering some food – I’m fucking starving.” Another pause. “Or you can keep working away but I’ll just be sitting here annoying you so you may as well join me for ten minutes.”
𝚂𝚊𝚒𝚍 𝚒𝚗𝚌𝚛𝚎𝚍𝚒𝚋𝚕𝚎 𝚜𝚗𝚒𝚙𝚎𝚛 𝚊𝚙𝚙𝚎𝚊𝚛𝚎𝚍 𝚞𝚗𝚑𝚊𝚛𝚖𝚎𝚍 𝚘𝚝𝚑𝚎𝚛 𝚝𝚑𝚊𝚗 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚖𝚎𝚗𝚝𝚊𝚕 𝚜𝚝𝚛𝚊𝚒𝚗 𝚏𝚛𝚘𝚖 𝚎𝚗𝚍𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚕𝚒𝚟𝚎𝚜 𝚘𝚏 𝚏𝚘𝚞𝚛 𝚙𝚎𝚘𝚙𝚕𝚎. 𝚃𝚑𝚎 𝚖𝚘𝚗𝚞𝚖𝚎𝚗𝚝𝚊𝚕 𝚏𝚎𝚎𝚕𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚘𝚏 𝚐𝚛𝚊𝚝𝚒𝚝𝚞𝚍𝚎 𝚠𝚊𝚜𝚑𝚎𝚍 𝚘𝚟𝚎𝚛 𝚑𝚒𝚖 𝚊𝚗𝚍 𝙹𝚊𝚖𝚎𝚜 𝚌𝚕𝚘𝚜𝚎𝚍 𝚑𝚒𝚜 𝚎𝚢𝚎𝚜. “𝙿𝚎𝚛𝚏𝚎𝚌𝚝. 𝚃𝚑𝚊𝚗𝚔 𝚢𝚘𝚞.” 𝙷𝚎 𝚟𝚘𝚒𝚌𝚎𝚍 𝚠𝚒𝚝𝚑 𝚐𝚎𝚗𝚝𝚕𝚎 𝚜𝚒𝚗𝚌𝚎𝚛𝚒𝚝𝚢.
𝚃𝚑𝚎 𝚒𝚗𝚏𝚘𝚛𝚖𝚊𝚝𝚒𝚘𝚗𝚊𝚕 𝚝𝚑𝚊𝚝 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚖𝚊𝚛𝚔 𝚔𝚗𝚎𝚠 𝚊𝚗𝚍 𝚑𝚒𝚛𝚎𝚍 𝚜𝚎𝚌𝚞𝚛𝚒𝚝𝚢 𝚠𝚊𝚜 𝚍𝚒𝚐𝚎𝚜𝚝𝚎𝚍 𝚠𝚒𝚝𝚑 𝚊 𝚜𝚖𝚊𝚕𝚕 𝚏𝚛𝚘𝚠𝚗. 𝚃𝚑𝚒𝚛𝚝𝚢-𝚜𝚎𝚟𝚎𝚗 𝚙𝚘𝚜𝚜𝚒𝚋𝚒𝚕𝚒𝚝𝚒𝚎𝚜 𝚖𝚊𝚝𝚎𝚛𝚒𝚊𝚕𝚒𝚣𝚎𝚍 𝚊𝚕𝚝𝚑𝚘𝚞𝚐𝚑 𝚘𝚗𝚕𝚢 𝚝𝚑𝚛𝚎𝚎 𝚠𝚎𝚛𝚎 𝚙𝚛𝚘𝚋𝚊𝚋𝚕𝚎 𝚊𝚗𝚍 𝚑𝚎 𝚠𝚘𝚞𝚕𝚍 𝚗𝚘𝚝 𝚒𝚗𝚜𝚞𝚕𝚝 𝚂𝚎𝚋𝚊𝚜𝚝𝚒𝚊𝚗 𝚋𝚢 𝚊𝚜𝚔𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚒𝚏 𝚑𝚎 𝚠𝚊𝚜 𝚜𝚎𝚎𝚗 𝚜𝚝𝚊𝚕𝚔𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚏𝚘𝚞𝚕 𝚋𝚞𝚜𝚒𝚗𝚎𝚜𝚜𝚖𝚊𝚗 𝚠𝚎𝚎𝚔𝚜 𝚙𝚛𝚒𝚘𝚛. 𝙽𝚘, 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚖𝚊𝚒𝚍 𝚠𝚑𝚘 𝚘𝚏𝚏𝚎𝚛𝚎𝚍 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚕𝚘𝚌𝚊𝚝𝚒𝚘𝚗 𝚘𝚗 𝚠𝚑𝚎𝚛𝚎 𝚑𝚎𝚛 𝚋𝚘𝚜𝚜 𝚠𝚘𝚞𝚕𝚍 𝚋𝚎 𝚘𝚗 𝙼𝚘𝚗𝚍𝚊𝚢 𝚗𝚒𝚐𝚑𝚝 𝚠𝚊𝚜 𝚌𝚊𝚞𝚐𝚑𝚝. 𝙰 𝚙𝚊𝚜𝚜𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚝𝚑𝚘𝚞𝚐𝚑𝚝 𝚝𝚘 𝚑𝚎𝚛 𝚠𝚎𝚕𝚕𝚋𝚎𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚍𝚛𝚒𝚏𝚝𝚎𝚍 𝚋𝚢 𝚊𝚗𝚍 𝚑𝚎 𝚜𝚎𝚗𝚝 𝚘𝚏𝚏 𝚊 𝚚𝚞𝚒𝚌𝚔 𝚝𝚎𝚡𝚝 𝚋𝚎𝚏𝚘𝚛𝚎 𝚑𝚎 𝚋𝚎𝚌𝚊𝚖𝚎 𝚝𝚘𝚘 𝚍𝚒𝚜𝚝𝚛𝚊𝚌𝚝𝚎𝚍.
[ 𝙼 → 𝚂𝚎𝚌𝚞𝚛𝚒𝚝𝚢 ];; 𝚜𝚎𝚗𝚍 𝚌𝚑𝚊𝚛𝚕𝚎𝚜 𝚝𝚘 𝚌𝚑𝚎𝚌𝚔 𝚘𝚗 𝚊𝚋𝚒𝚐𝚊𝚒𝚕 𝚋𝚎𝚗𝚗𝚎𝚝𝚝. 𝟸𝟾𝙰 𝚙𝚊𝚛𝚔 𝚑𝚒𝚕𝚕 𝚛𝚍. 𝚋𝚛𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚝𝚘 𝚜𝚊𝚏𝚎 𝚑𝚘𝚞𝚜𝚎, 𝚒𝚏 𝚊𝚕𝚒𝚟𝚎
“𝙰 𝚌𝚘𝚍𝚎 𝚋𝚊𝚜𝚎𝚍 𝚘𝚗 𝙶𝚘𝚕𝚍𝚋𝚊𝚌𝚑’𝚜 𝚒𝚖𝚙𝚘𝚜𝚜𝚒𝚋𝚒𝚕𝚒𝚝𝚢 𝚝𝚑𝚎𝚘𝚛𝚎𝚖, 𝚍𝚎𝚜𝚒𝚐𝚗𝚎𝚍 𝚝𝚘 𝚘𝚟𝚎𝚛𝚠𝚑𝚎𝚕𝚖 𝚌𝚘𝚖𝚙--- 𝙰𝚑, 𝚝𝚎𝚊. 𝙰𝚗𝚍 𝚌𝚘𝚏𝚏𝚎𝚎, 𝚋𝚘𝚝𝚑.” 𝙸𝚝 𝚠𝚊𝚜 𝚝𝚑𝚎𝚗, 𝚕𝚘𝚘𝚔𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚊𝚝 𝚑𝚒𝚜 𝚖𝚘𝚋𝚒𝚕𝚎 𝚘𝚗 𝚝𝚘𝚙 𝚘𝚏 𝚊 𝚕𝚊𝚍𝚍𝚎𝚛, 𝚑𝚎 𝚗𝚘𝚝𝚒𝚌𝚎𝚍 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚖𝚒𝚜𝚜𝚎𝚍 𝚊𝚕𝚊𝚛𝚖𝚜. 𝙰𝚕𝚕 𝚝𝚎𝚗 𝚘𝚏 𝚝𝚑𝚎𝚖. 𝚃𝚑𝚎 𝚝𝚒𝚖𝚎 𝚠𝚊𝚜 𝚊𝚙𝚙𝚛𝚘𝚊𝚌𝚑𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚖𝚒𝚍𝚗𝚒𝚐𝚑𝚝. 𝙰 𝚕𝚊𝚌𝚔 𝚘𝚏 𝚏𝚘𝚘𝚍 𝚊𝚗𝚍 𝚠𝚊𝚝𝚎𝚛 𝚏𝚘𝚛 𝚝𝚑𝚒𝚛𝚝𝚢-𝚜𝚒𝚡 𝚑𝚘𝚞𝚛𝚜 𝚎𝚡𝚙𝚕𝚊𝚒𝚗𝚎𝚍 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚍𝚊𝚣𝚣𝚕𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚖𝚒𝚐𝚛𝚊𝚒𝚗𝚎 𝚊𝚗𝚍 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚒𝚛𝚛𝚒𝚝𝚊𝚝𝚒𝚘𝚗 𝚌𝚛𝚊𝚠𝚕𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚋𝚎𝚗𝚎𝚊𝚝𝚑 𝚑𝚒𝚜 𝚜𝚔𝚒𝚗 𝚕𝚒𝚔𝚎 𝚎𝚕𝚎𝚌𝚝𝚛𝚒𝚌 𝚕𝚒𝚌𝚎. 𝙲𝚊𝚙𝚙𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚙𝚎𝚗 𝚊𝚗𝚍 𝚕𝚎𝚊𝚟𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚒𝚝 𝚘𝚗 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚝𝚘𝚙 𝚛𝚞𝚗𝚐, 𝚑𝚎 𝚍𝚎𝚜𝚌𝚎𝚗𝚍𝚎𝚍 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚕𝚊𝚍𝚍𝚎𝚛.
“𝚈𝚘𝚞, 𝚊𝚗𝚗𝚘𝚢𝚒𝚗𝚐? 𝙾𝚗𝚕𝚢 𝚊𝚕𝚠𝚊𝚢𝚜.” 𝙷𝚎 𝚝𝚎𝚊𝚜𝚎𝚍 𝚋𝚊𝚌𝚔. 𝙸𝚗 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚙𝚛𝚎𝚜𝚎𝚗𝚌𝚎 𝚘𝚏 𝚌𝚘𝚖𝚙𝚊𝚗𝚢 𝚑𝚎 𝚛𝚎𝚖𝚘𝚟𝚎𝚍 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚜𝚞𝚗𝚐𝚕𝚊𝚜𝚜𝚎𝚜 𝚊𝚗𝚍 𝚝𝚘𝚘𝚔 𝚊 𝚖𝚘𝚖𝚎𝚗𝚝 𝚝𝚘 𝚛𝚞𝚋 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚕𝚒𝚏𝚎 𝚋𝚊𝚌𝚔 𝚒𝚗𝚝𝚘 𝚝𝚑𝚎𝚖. 𝙵𝚒𝚗𝚒𝚜𝚑𝚎𝚍, 𝚑𝚎 𝚋𝚕𝚒𝚗𝚔𝚎𝚍 𝚠𝚎𝚊𝚛𝚒𝚕𝚢 𝚊𝚝 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚝𝚊𝚕𝚕𝚎𝚛 𝚖𝚊𝚗. 𝙰 𝚜𝚑𝚘𝚠𝚎𝚛 𝚠𝚊𝚜 𝚍𝚎𝚜𝚙𝚎𝚛𝚊𝚝𝚎𝚕𝚢 𝚗𝚎𝚎𝚍𝚎𝚍. “𝙸’𝚕𝚕 𝚎𝚊𝚝 𝚠𝚑𝚊𝚝𝚎𝚟𝚎𝚛 𝚝𝚛𝚊𝚜𝚑 𝚢𝚘𝚞 𝚍𝚎𝚌𝚒𝚍𝚎 𝚘𝚗 𝚝𝚑𝚎𝚗. 𝙽𝚘𝚝 𝚙𝚒𝚣𝚣𝚊, 𝙶𝚛𝚎𝚎𝚔, 𝙸𝚝𝚊𝚕𝚒𝚊𝚗 𝚘𝚛 𝚊𝚗𝚢𝚝𝚑𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚌𝚕𝚘𝚜𝚎 𝚝𝚘 𝙼𝚊𝚢𝚏𝚊𝚒𝚛.”
"Man produces evil, as a bee produces honey."
-William Golding; The Lord of The Flies
𝚃𝚑𝚎 𝚏𝚕𝚘𝚘𝚛 𝚝𝚘 𝚌𝚎𝚒𝚕𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚠𝚒𝚗𝚍𝚘𝚠𝚜 𝚛𝚎𝚟𝚎𝚊𝚕𝚎𝚍 𝙻𝚘𝚗𝚍𝚘𝚗 𝚋𝚊𝚝𝚑𝚎𝚍 𝚒𝚗 𝚗𝚒𝚐𝚑𝚝. 𝚂𝚒𝚝𝚞𝚊𝚝𝚎𝚍 𝟹𝟽0𝚏𝚝 𝚊𝚋𝚘𝚟𝚎 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚐𝚎𝚗𝚎𝚛𝚊𝚕 𝚙𝚘𝚙𝚞𝚕𝚊𝚌𝚎, 𝚛𝚎𝚝𝚊𝚒𝚗𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚊 𝚜𝚑𝚛𝚎𝚍 𝚘𝚏 𝚑𝚞𝚖𝚒𝚕𝚒𝚝𝚢 𝚠𝚊𝚜 𝚒𝚖𝚙𝚛𝚘𝚋𝚊𝚋𝚕𝚎 𝚢𝚎𝚝 𝚑𝚎 𝚖𝚊𝚗𝚊𝚐𝚎𝚍. 𝙳𝚊𝚛𝚔 𝚎𝚢𝚎𝚜 𝚑𝚒𝚍𝚍𝚎𝚗 𝚋𝚎𝚑𝚒𝚗𝚍 𝚜𝚞𝚗𝚐𝚕𝚊𝚜𝚜𝚎𝚜 𝚍𝚛𝚊𝚗𝚔 𝚒𝚗 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚒𝚖𝚊𝚐𝚎 𝚘𝚏 𝚜𝚕𝚎𝚎𝚙𝚕𝚎𝚜𝚜 𝚕𝚒𝚐𝚑𝚝𝚜 𝚕𝚘𝚏𝚝𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚘𝚟𝚎𝚛 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚛𝚒𝚟𝚎𝚛 𝚃𝚑𝚊𝚖𝚎𝚜, 𝚘𝚏 𝚌𝚊𝚛𝚜 𝚜𝚕𝚞𝚐𝚐𝚒𝚜𝚑𝚕𝚢 𝚖𝚘𝚟𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚝𝚑𝚛𝚘𝚞𝚐𝚑 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚟𝚎𝚒𝚗𝚜 𝚘𝚏 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚌𝚒𝚝𝚢, 𝚊𝚗𝚍 𝚘𝚏 𝚙𝚎𝚘𝚙𝚕𝚎 𝚠𝚑𝚘 𝚊𝚙𝚙𝚎𝚊𝚛𝚎𝚍 𝚊𝚔𝚒𝚗 𝚝𝚘 𝚊𝚗𝚝𝚜. 𝙷𝚎 𝚜𝚞𝚙𝚙𝚘𝚜𝚎𝚍 𝚎𝚟𝚎𝚗 𝚑𝚎, 𝚊𝚋𝚘𝚟𝚎 𝚝𝚑𝚎𝚖 𝚊𝚕𝚕, 𝚒𝚜 𝚊𝚗 𝚊𝚗𝚝 𝚒𝚗 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚖𝚒𝚗𝚍 𝚘𝚏 𝚊 𝚑𝚒𝚐𝚑 𝚙𝚘𝚠𝚎𝚛 --- 𝚎𝚢𝚎𝚜 𝚍𝚊𝚛𝚝 𝚞𝚙 𝚝𝚘 𝚝𝚊𝚔𝚎 𝚒𝚗 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚋𝚕𝚊𝚌𝚔 𝚜𝚔𝚢. 𝙿𝚘𝚕𝚕𝚞𝚝𝚒𝚘𝚗 𝚋𝚕𝚘𝚝𝚝𝚎𝚍 𝚘𝚞𝚝 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚜𝚝𝚊𝚛𝚜 𝚊𝚗𝚍 𝚑𝚞𝚎𝚍 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚊𝚝𝚖𝚘𝚜𝚙𝚑𝚎𝚛𝚎 𝚒𝚗 𝚊𝚖𝚋𝚎𝚛. 𝚃𝚑𝚎 𝚋𝚕𝚒𝚗𝚔𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚕𝚒𝚐𝚑𝚝𝚜 𝚘𝚏 𝚙𝚕𝚊𝚗𝚎𝚜 𝚐𝚕𝚒𝚍𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚝𝚘𝚠𝚊𝚛𝚍𝚜 𝙷𝚎𝚊𝚝𝚑𝚛𝚘𝚠 𝚘𝚏𝚏𝚎𝚛𝚎𝚍 𝚊 𝚙𝚊𝚕𝚎 𝚒𝚖𝚒𝚝𝚊𝚝𝚒𝚘𝚗 𝚝𝚘 𝚌𝚘𝚖𝚎𝚝𝚜. 𝙽𝚘 𝚐𝚘𝚍𝚜 𝚛𝚎𝚝𝚞𝚛𝚗𝚎𝚍 𝚑𝚒𝚜 𝚜𝚎𝚊𝚛𝚌𝚑𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚐𝚊𝚣𝚎. 𝙷𝚎 𝚍𝚒𝚍 𝚗𝚘𝚝 𝚋𝚕𝚊𝚖𝚎 𝚝𝚑𝚎𝚖.
“𝚈𝚘𝚞 𝚌𝚊𝚗𝚗𝚘𝚝 𝚔𝚗𝚘𝚠 𝚑𝚘𝚠 𝚏𝚛𝚒𝚐𝚑𝚝𝚎𝚗𝚎𝚍 𝚐𝚘𝚍𝚜 𝚊𝚛𝚎 𝚘𝚏 𝚙𝚊𝚒𝚗. 𝚃𝚑𝚎𝚛𝚎 𝚒𝚜 𝚗𝚘𝚝𝚑𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚖𝚘𝚛𝚎 𝚏𝚘𝚛𝚎𝚒𝚐𝚗 𝚝𝚘 𝚝𝚑𝚎𝚖, 𝚊𝚗𝚍 𝚜𝚘 𝚗𝚘𝚝𝚑𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚝𝚑𝚎𝚢 𝚊𝚌𝚑𝚎 𝚖𝚘𝚛𝚎 𝚍𝚎𝚎𝚙𝚕𝚢 𝚝𝚘 𝚜𝚎𝚎.”
𝙷𝚒𝚜 𝚟𝚊𝚌𝚊𝚗𝚝 𝚜𝚝𝚊𝚛𝚎 𝚛𝚎𝚏𝚘𝚌𝚞𝚜𝚎𝚍 𝚝𝚘 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚎𝚚𝚞𝚊𝚝𝚒𝚘𝚗𝚜 𝚘𝚗 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚠𝚒𝚗𝚍𝚘𝚠. 𝚃𝚑𝚎 𝚠𝚑𝚒𝚝𝚎 𝚝𝚎𝚡𝚝 𝚝𝚘𝚘𝚔 𝚞𝚙 𝚘𝚗𝚎 𝚒𝚗 𝚒𝚝𝚜 𝚎𝚗𝚝𝚒𝚛𝚎𝚝𝚢 𝚊𝚗𝚍 𝚗𝚘𝚠 𝚋𝚕𝚎𝚍 𝚒𝚗𝚝𝚘 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚜𝚎𝚌𝚘𝚗𝚍. 𝙾𝚗 𝚝𝚘𝚙 𝚊 𝚏𝚒𝚟𝚎 𝚖𝚎𝚝𝚎𝚛 𝚕𝚊𝚍𝚍𝚎𝚛, 𝙹𝚊𝚖𝚎𝚜 𝚌𝚘𝚗𝚝𝚒𝚗𝚞𝚎𝚍 𝚠𝚛𝚒𝚝𝚒𝚗𝚐, 𝚖𝚞𝚝𝚝𝚎𝚛𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚜𝚝𝚊𝚝𝚒𝚜𝚝𝚒𝚌𝚜 𝚋𝚎𝚗𝚎𝚊𝚝𝚑 𝚑𝚒𝚜 𝚋𝚛𝚎𝚊𝚝𝚑. 𝚂𝚘𝚖𝚎𝚝𝚑𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚖𝚒𝚗𝚍𝚕𝚎𝚜𝚜 𝚊𝚗𝚍 𝚌𝚕𝚊𝚜𝚜𝚒𝚌𝚊𝚕 𝚙𝚕𝚊𝚢𝚎𝚍 𝚒𝚗 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚋𝚊𝚌𝚔𝚐𝚛𝚘𝚞𝚗𝚍 --- 𝚂𝚌𝚑𝚞𝚋𝚎𝚛𝚝 𝚘𝚛 𝙳𝚎𝚋𝚞𝚜𝚜𝚢. 𝚃𝚑𝚎 𝚘𝚗𝚕𝚢 𝚕𝚒𝚐𝚑𝚝𝚜 𝚒𝚗 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚕𝚞𝚡𝚞𝚛𝚒𝚘𝚞𝚜 𝚙𝚎𝚗𝚝𝚑𝚘𝚞𝚜𝚎 𝚌𝚊𝚖𝚎 𝚏𝚛𝚘𝚖 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚌𝚒𝚛𝚌𝚞𝚕𝚊𝚛 𝚌𝚊𝚜𝚌𝚊𝚍𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚌𝚑𝚊𝚗𝚍𝚎𝚕𝚒𝚎𝚛 𝚊𝚋𝚘𝚟𝚎, 𝚍𝚒𝚖𝚖𝚎𝚍 𝚝𝚘 𝚊 𝚠𝚊𝚛𝚖 𝚠𝚑𝚒𝚝𝚎.
𝚂𝚝𝚒𝚕𝚕 𝚑𝚒𝚜 𝚑𝚎𝚊𝚍 𝚙𝚘𝚞𝚗𝚍𝚎𝚍. 𝙷𝚎 𝚙𝚊𝚞𝚜𝚎𝚍 𝚝𝚘 𝚍𝚒𝚐 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚌𝚊𝚙𝚙𝚎𝚍 𝚎𝚗𝚍 𝚘𝚏 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚖𝚊𝚛𝚔𝚎𝚛 𝚒𝚗𝚝𝚘 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚞𝚙𝚙𝚎𝚛 𝚋𝚛𝚒𝚍𝚐𝚎 𝚘𝚏 𝚑𝚒𝚜 𝚗𝚘𝚜𝚎. 𝙰 𝚜𝚒𝚐𝚑. ‘𝙸𝚖𝚖𝚘𝚛𝚝𝚊𝚕 𝚖𝚎𝚗 𝚖𝚞𝚜𝚝 𝚜𝚞𝚏𝚏𝚎𝚛 𝚜𝚘 𝚝𝚑𝚘𝚜𝚎 𝚙𝚕𝚊𝚐𝚞𝚎𝚍 𝚠𝚒𝚝𝚑 𝚍𝚊𝚒𝚕𝚢 𝚕𝚒𝚏𝚎 𝚍𝚘 𝚗𝚘𝚝 𝚛𝚎𝚟𝚘𝚕𝚝.’ 𝙶𝚊𝚕𝚟𝚊𝚗𝚒𝚣𝚎𝚍 𝚏𝚒𝚜𝚝𝚜 𝚋𝚎𝚊𝚝 𝚊𝚗 𝚊𝚍𝚊𝚐𝚒𝚘 𝚒𝚗 𝚑𝚒𝚜 𝚋𝚛𝚊𝚒𝚗 𝚋𝚞𝚝 𝚜𝚝𝚒𝚕𝚕 𝚑𝚎 𝚙𝚛𝚎𝚜𝚜𝚎𝚍 𝚘𝚗.
𝚃𝚑𝚊𝚝 𝚒𝚜 𝚞𝚗𝚝𝚒𝚕 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚍𝚘𝚘𝚛 𝚘𝚙𝚎𝚗𝚎𝚍 𝚊𝚗𝚍 𝚝𝚑𝚎𝚗 𝚜𝚑𝚞𝚝 --- 𝚕𝚘𝚞𝚍𝚕𝚢, 𝚜𝚘 𝚙𝚊𝚒𝚗𝚏𝚞𝚕𝚕𝚢 𝚕𝚘𝚞𝚍. 𝙹𝚊𝚖𝚎𝚜 𝚝𝚒𝚐𝚑𝚝𝚕𝚢 𝚐𝚛𝚒𝚙𝚙𝚎𝚍 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚙𝚊𝚒𝚗𝚝 𝚙𝚎𝚗 𝚊𝚗𝚍 𝚛𝚎𝚜𝚒𝚜𝚝𝚎𝚍 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚞𝚛𝚐𝚎 𝚝𝚘 𝚐𝚛𝚒𝚝 𝚑𝚒𝚜 𝚝𝚎𝚎𝚝𝚑.
“𝙾𝚑, 𝚑𝚎𝚕𝚕𝚘. 𝙸 𝚍𝚘 𝚑𝚘𝚙𝚎 𝚢𝚘𝚞 𝚛𝚎𝚝𝚞𝚛𝚗𝚎𝚍 𝚑𝚊𝚟𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚙𝚞𝚝 𝚊 𝚋𝚞𝚕𝚕𝚎𝚝 𝚒𝚗 𝚑𝚒𝚜 𝚋𝚛𝚊𝚒𝚗.”
Hate granted you every single thing you wished for. It was an indulgent Master to you. It is so, indeed, to all who serve it. For two days you sat on a high seat with the Sheriffs, and feasted your eyes with the spectacle of your father standing in the dock of the Central Criminal Court. And on the third day I took his place. What had occurred? In your hideous game of hate together, you had both thrown the dice for my soul, and you happened to have lost. That was all.
Oscar Wilde, ‘De Profundis’ (via a-book-is-a-garden)
Wanna make a monster? Take the parts of yourself that make you uncomfortable — your weaknesses, bad thoughts, vanities, and hungers — and pretend they’re across the room. It’s too ugly to be human. It’s too ugly to be you. Children are afraid of the dark because they have nothing real to work with. Adults are afraid of themselves.
RICHARD SIKEN || “Black Telephone” from Spork Press Issue 1.3 (2002)
Mohammed Bennis, tr. by Sharif Elmusa and Charles Doria, from Modern Arabic Poetry: an anthology; “The Second Coming”
God knows, God knows I want to break free.
I want to break free
I want to break free from your lies
thedarkestacademia:
Undine Rising from the Waters, Chauncey Bradley Ives, 1884