#13th Inspector

[inspectorspacetimerevisited]

It’s actually amazing how well the writers for the 13th Inspector

showed what Autism Spectrum Disorder is like.

‘Not sure this is when I’m supposed to be, but … uh, never mind. So many other things to focus on!’

[akirasarchives]

[00] Valuable Addition.

Summary: You wouldn’t say you’re in debt, but the dwindling money in your bank account is looking that way. Oh yeah, and a man in a suit won’t stop bothering you about playing a stupid child’s game.

— warnings: usual squid game behaviour, female reader

platonic squid game x reader, side romantic moments but it’s for the plot

[ 12TH, MONDAY, 08:47 ]

The subway station is busy. Businessmen, students and elderly passer-bys push past and shove into you as you stand clueless next to one of the big subway posters. Despite living in Seoul for so long, you barely know your way around and you’re at mercy to the beehive system. And it takes no prisoners.

You’ve been trying for the last 10 minutes to get the attention of anyone, but each person either ignores you or runs on to grab their train, but with each train passing your anxiety grows. It feels as if time has stopped around you as the vibrant chatter of people around you turns into mumbles and whispers as you attempt to understand the subway line. Even as you trace what you think is the blue line, it eventually turns into purple and now you’re on the other side of town!

With a heavy sigh, you turn to face the crowd once more. The crowd had thinned out in the last 10 minutes of your lone confusion and with a quick glance at your phone you see that it’s quickly approaching 9am.

It’s now or never.

“Excuse me, sir!” You tap the shoulder of the nearest well-dressed businessman. The man, seemingly in his 30s or early 40s turns and flashes you a charming smile. He dons a freshly pressed, steel grey suit made of soft, rich fabric. From a quick glance, you can tell the suit is made of expensive material as you spot tiny workings of the logo within the fabric itself. You feel as if you're staining the suit by touching it.

I just had to ask the good-looking one.

“May I help you?” He asks, using his free hand to smooth down his already wrinkle-free suit. His smile drops over time, yet he makes an effort to make it appear that it meets his eyes. Though, working in hospitality makes it easy to spot a false smile.

“I am sorry to bother you, but can you tell me which train takes me to Hannam-Dong?” You glance down at your phone. Foolishly, you forgot to check which train took you in the direction of the job interview you had scheduled today for a big company which would pretty much pay off the majority of your tuition fees in one wage. You practically burst into tears when the conductor told you that you purchased a ticket for the wrong line. The image of the money decreasing from your bank account due to a stupid purchase made you want to scream.

“Are there no ticket inspectors?” He hums, looking around. He looks around and almost comically turns in a circle before sighing. As if you couldn’t feel stupid enough for thinking you had to use a different line, the man in front of you had to make a theatrical out of it.

“I think it is this line.” He motions at the platform on the other side with the hand holding his expensive looking briefcase. You watch as it swings, seemingly empty.

“Thank you, sir!” You bow your head and smile, taking off before you finish the sentence. Soon enough you’re lost in the crowd again and hopefully not too late for the train.

[ 13TH, TUESDAY, 08:29 ]

Stupid nepotism. Yesterday, you arrived at the interview 10 minutes early despite the subway fiasco but you were informed that the role was filled that morning by an “experienced candidate who met the needs of the role”. Do you want to know who the candidate is? The CEOs nephew who just left high school and took a business class.

Now what? You’re at the same subway station waiting on the train to take you to your part-time cafe job 10 minutes away. Usually, you would walk it seeing as you don’t really like throwing away ₩1500 on a ticket that takes you 6 stops away but the torrential rain outside and your cheap umbrella were blocking you from walking 15 minutes.

The ticket crumbles in your hand as you fiddle with the flimsy paper. Maybe this was God’s sick way of telling you that you’re too ahead of yourself or that you’re destined to continue spending money that you don’t have. You trace over the price stamp, thinking over what you could’ve spent the money on.

Maybe a shitty cup of ramen?

“May I sit here?” A smooth voice breaks you from your trance. You glance up, straightening your posture. It’s the man from yesterday, gleaming down at you with the same formal smile. Again, it doesn’t reach his eyes yet you nod, shuffling to the right to allow him space on the bench.

“How was your interview?” He asks casually as he sets his briefcase beside him. He turns his back to you as he traces the cool metal edges of the case, popping it open with ease.

You gape, “How did you know I was going to an interview?”

“Well, you were dressed well and now you are in an apron. I assume you don’t go everywhere in a formal blazer.” He cracks open the briefcase as he casually explains. He’s weirdly observant, but his comment on the apron makes you glance down. Each wrinkle and subtle stain becomes more noticeable, but reminds you of each gruelling hour you put into the place. Each penny earned.

You can’t help but get lost in thought, barely processing as thick blue and red folded paper is passed into your eye-line.

“I am assuming you’re a café worker… That can’t pay much, no?” He motions at the cafe’s coffee bean logo on your black shirt. You nod, still dumbfounded by the paper squares.

His stare is so intense it leaves you a bit flustered so you naturally let out a nervous laugh, swapping your attention to the time on your phone. 10 minutes until your train...

“Um, no, I suppose not.” You reply, albeit awkwardly. He hums, satisfied with your late and short answer. Oddly, this is not one of the weirder conversations you’ve had at the subway station.

He shifts so that he’s facing you, “Let’s play a game, you know Ddakji, right?”

You glance between the paper and his face. He looks so sincere, but you can’t read his eyes. They’re deep, black almost and oddly… mischevious for a middle aged man. Honestly it’s quite disturbing.

“Each round you win, you’ll get ₩100,000. How about that?” The expression on your face coaxed him to continue. Perhaps you looked just as perplexed as you feel.

“Who are—“

“If I win, you pay with your body.”

… Is this man fucking crazy? You want to just leave the station but at the same time you’re so intrigued by what the fuck this man wants. Surely he has better things to do? Was he carrying the ddakji with him yesterday too?

The way he sits still as if he’s a mannequin is also quite disturbing. It’s as if he’s giving you time to process the question but you’re not debating the game, you’re debating just running out in the pouring rain.

“Well?”

“Railway line through Cheongpa-Dong is now boarding. Please board.”

You stand quickly, jolting the businessman with your speed.

“My train is here. Bye.”

[ 13TH, TUESDAY, 22:09 ]

The whole day the scenario played through your head. You were so caught up in thought that you burned yourself with the steamer and spent 10 minutes in the office running your hand until cool water. Even then, your mind wandered back.

It’s just so odd. You’ve never seen him before but now twice you’ve spoken to him. Has he always been there and it’s just more obvious now? Does he offer everyone this game? Is he following you? Does he know where you work?

You barely knew the time. Each drink passed by in seconds and each customer morphed into each other. Every time a man entered the shop in a suit, your heart pumped ferociously.

You can’t tell if you’re terrified of him or excited for the interaction. Maybe he’s just a fucking weirdo who walks around with ddakji in hopes of getting to slap people.

Plus, you could do with the money. Even if you win just one round, it could pay for your phone bill or electric meter.

The walk home isn’t exactly easy either. It’s dark and each corner turned, you’re expecting to see him waiting under a streetlight for you holding those red and blue squares.

“If I win, you pay with your body.”

Unbothered, he extends the squares towards you. It feels as if you’re sucked out of your body as you stare at him. Time slows and no one else is there. Did he just ask you to sleep with him? What in the world could that mean? Is this man a trafficker and he has his eyes set on you? The questions flurry through your brain in a span of mere seconds, yet you still feel the cool air pass over your skin as the train rails in beside you. Your hair falls into your eyesight as you gape at him.

“Well?” He motions towards the cards.

What in the fucking world.

[ 16TH, FRIDAY, 22:35 ]

The pile of unread emails grows in your inbox. Failure to attend lectures, the price increasing of your off campus housing, monthly payments that leave you with just under ₩145,000 to survive for a month. It’s unbearable. You’ve gotten used to the growl in your stomach and the lightheadedness that comes with the fatigue of hunger. Missing night outs with your friends, walking long distances until your feet ached and slaving away at work for nasty people while your eyes threatened to close. It’s all becoming a bit much, especially as your final year in University comes to a close.

The burn on your hand doesn’t help either. It’s right between the juncture of your thumb and index finger on your right hand and it aches when any sort of warmth meets it. You can’t afford to throw away money on soothing gels at the moment, so you bear with the pain. It’s already been a few days, so hopefully it disappears soon. You hope anyway.

Walking home in the dark used to scare you but as needs be, you’ve gotten used to it. Work looms over your head as your feet trudge through fallen leaves and debris kicked up by bikes and feet. The walk from work to home isn’t too bad, the area can be sketchy at times but you’ve learned to keep your head straight, don’t make eye contact and keep a hand on the box cutter you keep in your right side coat pocket.

Luckily, you’ve come across most of the same people. An older man always passes by, seemingly walking home from work and always flashes you a smile. A few students usually run by too and the occasional office worker. Most times however, it’s quiet.

Unlike tonight.

Faint sounds of slapping, cheering and grunting bounce off the walls of the buildings surrounding the dark streets. You can’t tell where it’s coming from, who it’s coming from or why but you prefer to keep it that way, but as you grow closer to a dimly lit side street, the noises become louder.

You sigh, hand grasping the box cutter. Your thumb presses onto the button, holding it steady in case you need to use it.

Keep your head straight, [y/n]. This doesn’t involve you.

You can’t help but flicker your eyes to your left as you walk past. A man lies cowering on the ground as he grasps his face with his hands. He’s whimpering, blabbing something to the taller, well-dressed man that hovers above him.

Is that the man from the subway station?

You quicken your pace. Your feet fall over each other as you attempt to walk away as naturally as possible, but you accidentally kick up some rocks as you scatter past. The suited man turns, casting his eyes on you. The pit in your stomach grows as you continue walking with urgency, daring not to look anyway but forward.

I am so fucked!

[ 22ND, THURSDAY, 12:09 ]

“Long-time, no see.” A shadow casts over your figure, effectively blocking your view of your phone screen. You glance up at the man that is effectively disturbing one of the only peaceful moments you’ve had lately.

He’s dressed in a black variant of the steel grey suit you saw the past couple times of meeting him, but he still carried the same stupid suitcase. You sigh, swiping your music app closed and locking your phone with a click as you use a hand to cover your eyes.

Always with the same fake smile.

“I don’t want to play your game, sir.” You try to reject as kindly as possible, but you’re kind of freaked out that he found you once more. He looks slightly disheveled, as if he’s been toying with his hair or the heat today had worn him down. Weirdly, he looks more human, though little emotion lingers behind his eyes.

“That’s unfortunate. I brought it with me.” He lifts his suitcase higher into view. You frown, glancing around at other patrons. You take the time to unplug your earphones from your ears as he seems to ground his feet into the pavement before you.

He’s hard to get rid of.

“You bring it everywhere with you.” You reply, a bit more harsh than you’d want to but he seems amused by it. Suddenly, the image of him hovering over the cowering man flashes in your head.

Don’t piss him off.

You grasp your iced coffee, ignoring how the condensation soaks your hand. The subtle clinking of the ice works to calm you down as your heart begins to race at the thought of being in the position of the cowering man.

“How did you—“

“Bread or lottery?”

You blink.

“What?”

He shakes his hands, “Bread or lottery?”

“I don’t want to choose.” He seems to hold back something as he sighs.

“No matter what you choose, nothing will happen.” He assures you.

He is determined.

“I won’t have to ‘pay with my body’?” You reiterate what he said at the station. He cocks a brow, but nods nonetheless. It’s odd, it’s the most emotion he’s ever shown and it’s because you threw his words back at him.

You don’t quite fancy the idea of taking food off of him, despite its packaging being intact, so you motion for the lottery ticket silently. He hands you it quickly, fetching a spare penny from his blazer pocket. His hand lingers on your own as he passes you the coin, causing you to stare at him. His lips curl at the corners and you feel as if you just fell into a trap.

“Go ahead.” He almost sings, shuffling to stand over you.

The weight of the coin in your hand is replaced by a ton of bricks. Since when do scratch cards look so intimidating?

The lapels of the salesman’s blazer graze against your back as he stares at the blue sheet with you. You’re effectively caged against the bench that you're sitting at as he extends over your left shoulder and rests against the table.

A shaky exhale passes your lips as you stare at the sheet. The coin shakes in your hold as you begin to scratch, revealing a seven.

“Just three sevens, easy, right?” He chimes in, leaning closer to your face. The smell of his clean, fresh and most likely expensive fragrance wafts past your nose, reminding you just how close he is.

Each scratch feels like it’s taking a lifetime to reveal, but you eventually reach a second seven. You dare to glance to your left, marvelling at how close he is. You can see each fine detail across this enigma of a man’s face. In the short few seconds, you notice his asymmetrical eyes, the whisper of facial hair around his mouth and the dark excitement lingering within his eyes.

Eventually, you scratch away the last box.

“Congratulations, Miss.” The salesman hums, as he stands back straight. The hand he used to rest against the table slips up your arm to press firmly against your shoulder.

You’re astonished. I won? Seriously?

“No way.” You whisper, staring at the sheet. ₩500,000! It’s not the largest amount offered in the lottery but it’s a damn good amount for you. You can pay off a bit more of your loans and maybe afford a half-decent meal tonight.

You barely take notice as the suited man lifts his briefcase once more, and turns to look back at the park. The homeless people he once targeted are still filing through the bread he stomped on and destroyed, bar the one he left over for you. He grasps it in his hands, mulling over his options.

“Excuse me!” He yells out, tossing the bread in the air and catching it. The small crowd of people scattered around the pile of bread and some passer-by’s stop.

You gape, staring at his back.

“You can thank this young lady here for the bread!” He tosses the bread into the pile of people with a sharp throw. You watch as the homeless crowd revenge against each other, shouting and yelling their demands for the food.

You stand from the table, slipping the winning sheet in your handbag and grasping your mostly melted coffee.

I should cash in and go home.

“Hey, did she win?” A gruff voice yells out. You freeze, staring at the businessman. Anyone with any sort of wit would say no, right?

“Of course.” He smiles, standing to the side so the crowd peeps a better view at you.

He’s just fed you to a pack of very hungry wolves.

You want to say something, but the sight of about 10 people suddenly rushing towards you causes the words to die in your throat. You clutch your bag strap and almost drop your coffee as you scramble over the bench you were sitting on.

However, a barrier is formed before you. The crowd stops, staring at the swinging briefcase that blocks their path to you.

“Hey! We deserve that money!”

“You deserve nothing.” The salesman spits back. The disheveled man looks astonished, glancing between you and your new bodyguard.

“You got your card and she got hers. Play fair, weren’t you taught that in school?”

The homeless man is visibly rattled, mumbling and spewing out insults.

“I am not the one who made that decision. You are the one who threw it away!” He shouts. Suddenly, he steps forward and swings his case out, causing the crowd to fall back. Some fall over themselves and create a domino for the ones at the front.

As he revels in the chaos he creates, he misses how you slip away into the crowd.

[ 25TH, SUNDAY, 10:57 ]

“Miss, I understand you are a student but I am also a landlord, I can only wait so long without payment.” Your landlady frowns as she stands outside your door. You scramble around, picking up the last remaining notes you earned from the lottery ticket.

“I am sorry, Mrs. Kwon! Please, take this ₩300,000 I have. I promise I will get you the rest on Friday! I get paid then!” You plead, passing the money into the woman’s hands. She’s quite frazzled, pulling back her hands as you grab them to slot the notes into. Usually, the money would come out of your bank account but you locked your card as you can’t afford for her to take the last of your money.

She splutters, backing up as the money falls to her feet. You scramble to pick up the notes.

“Miss, your rent is ₩900,000 a month. You missed out a part of last month too! Where did you get this money from?” She quizzes, watching as you recount your notes. She wasn’t wrong, you were short about ₩250,000 last month and you were damn lucky she let you off on it.

“I understand, please take this to cover some of the money I missed out on.” She takes the money, sighing as she flicks the notes between her fingers and passes you back ₩150,000. You try to refuse but she uses your previous tactic on yourself.

“Take this. Listen, my granddaughter is in a place like you so I understand, but you cannot keep living like this. What happened to your last job interview? You told me you would never be short on money again!”

Your gaze drops to the floor at this point. Again, you’re forced to remember how the opportunity was practically ripped from your hands before you had a chance to even try.

“He gave it to his nephew.” You reply.

Mrs. Kwon sighs, glancing at the other tenants' doors. None of the neighbours ever cause her as much trouble as you do, yet she finds it hard to evict you. Even now, you look like her granddaughter, defeated and at the mercy of the world.

“Just pay me what you can on Friday. I will give you until your graduation to sort this out, okay?” You nod, thanking her profusely.

Maybe I should play that game of ddakji…

[ 1ST, SATURDAY, 14:26 ]

“Are you crazy? Some man keeps asking you to play ddakji and you’re going to say yes?” Your coworker pales as he finishes mixing up some drinks. You nod, glancing back out at the glass doors. The café is quiet today despite the few regulars, so you find yourself able to fall into conversation with him quite easily.

“Ddakji?” Your other coworker, Junhee, pops her head out from the kitchen. You nod, expecting the same reaction from her but it never comes.

“I’m good at that. Try to hit it with the folded part down.” She smiles, popping back in.

“Hey! Why would you tell her to do that?” Yunho scolds, passing the drinks to the collection station. You can’t help but laugh as you round the corner to pass the cups to the customers. They are used to the usual bickering behind the counter so they pay no mind as the two talk back and forth. Most of your customers are students anyway, so they don’t care much as long as the drinks and food taste nice.

The fight continues into the night, even as Yunho is locking up and watching the shutters fall.

“Are you sure you don’t want a ride home?” He offers, but both you and Junhee decline. Yunho is nice, almost a bit too nice so you don’t want to feel like you’re taking advantage of him.

“Me and [y/n] will walk home together. Thank you, though.” Junhee answers. Truthfully, she doesn’t live far from you but she is closer to the café than you are. You know she’s struggling a bit with rent too and you’ve both discussed the possibility of moving in together, but she is having trouble with her boyfriend so you don’t want to pry and become the main reason she leaves him. She hasn’t told you much but it is financial and she fears she may be pregnant.

As you fall into pace together, Junhee begins to wring her hands nervously. You know she’s holding out on telling you something as it’s the same thing she did before she told you what Myunggi did.

“What’s wrong?” You ask, glancing at her shorter fame. Despite her hair hanging over her eyes, you can see the worry spread across her face,

“Listen, [y/n], I played ddakji with the same man.” Junhee stops in her path. You pause. He had played with her?

“The businessman?” You ask, to which she eagerly nods.

You step closer, looking around nervously. “Did you pay with your body?”

“Yes. He slapped me.”

“He what?”

Junhee throws her head back, “I won every time, but the last round I missed. He slaps you if you fail to flip the ddakji!”

As concerned as you should be, it feels as if a lightbulb blinks above your head.

“So what you’re saying is that I just have to be good at ddakji?”

“What I’m saying is to be careful! He gave me this card too…” She fumbles in her bag, pulling out a cream card with a circle, square and triangle printed onto it. She flips it, displaying an address.

“He said to go there in 3 days. He didn’t really explain it much but he said there were still some spots open.”

[ 3RD, MONDAY, 23:07 ]

“I can’t believe my eyes.” He muses, “I almost think you’ve been looking for me.”

“And what if I was?” Defiantly, you meet his dark gaze. As long as Junhee was telling the truth and he was only going to slap you, it would be easy. It’s not like he’s going to knock your tooth out.

Hopefully.

“Give me the blue one.” You hold your right hand out, requesting the brightly coloured square. He fumbles with his suitcase as he attempts to not look as excited as he is.

He sets the red square face down onto the pavement. Yes, pavement. You caught the fucker as he was stalking down the back alleys near your house as he was probably on his way to find another player.

“You know, you’re one of the first to ask me to play.” He hums, watching as you steady your two feet. Truthfully, you never played ddakji but the guise of the game was nothing too hard to grasp. Plus, you practised a little in your house.

“Try to hit with the folded part down.”

Junhee’s word echo throughout your head as you fling the card down with a bit of force. As told, the red square flips round.

“You’re good. Here you go.” The businessman passes you ₩100,000., the first of the night.

[ 3RD, MONDAY, 23:18 ]

“Alright, last round. You have almost emptied me out.” He motions to his discarded case. The last ₩100,000 sits pretty, almost beaconing you to take it straight from its place. But, you must play fair right? Even the businessman thinks so as you remember back at the park when he fed you to the crowd and saved you at the same time.

“I’m starting to think you’re a lucky charm for me.” You laugh, taking the blue square from his hand. Since he showed up, you’ve started to notice a stronger cash flow and hopefully the card he’s bound to give you continues the lucky streak.

But, instead of laughing or seeming amused, he flashes you a sinister smirk. You stare as he fixes himself. He had long abandoned his blazer, instead opting to roll his sleeves up and really give the game his all seeing as you had won 5 rounds. You have to admit, his disheveled state wasn’t the worst sight to look at.

“I think I’m quite the opposite.” He replies, hands smoothing down his waistcoat. You try to shake off his reply as he’s most likely trying to throw you off your game.

Maybe I shouldn’t be playing ddakji in a dark alleyway with him. Alone. At 11pm.

Tearing your gaze away, you return to the form that has won you five rounds. Steady feet, steady arms and steady breathing aided you in your last rounds and it’s almost as if it’s become second nature to you.

The square leaves your hands in a flash and you don’t bother to look as you stand proudly. A large thwack jumps off of the brick walls surrounding you both as you stare at him with nothing but pride on your face.

But…

Why is he coming at me?

Within a flash, the man’s left arm swings into your peripheral and you squawk as you jump back, throwing your arms out to push him away. Your eyes clench closed as your heartbeat thumps so loudly, it sounds as if there’s drums in your ears.

“You dodged me. That’s not fair.” You stare incredulously. The speed at which he swung at you would’ve landed you on your ass in a second flat. Junhee never told you that. With a dumbfounded expression, you look to the ground.

I missed.

“You tried to punch me. What the fuck?” You scatter, grasping your bag from the ground. You don’t need that damn card, what the fuck was Junhee on about? Is she crazy? Why is she going to that place tomorrow?

“I told you. If you lose, you pay with your body.” He explains casually, as if he didn’t just try to send you to the e.r. “Plus, I was going to slap you.”

“You would’ve knocked my fucking tooth out!”

“It was your choice to play, now stand still for me.”

You step back as he steps forward. Like Hell you’re letting him lay his hands on you.

“I don’t like people who don’t play fair. Please don’t make me hate you after we had so much fun.” He stresses, caging you against the brick wall. Your eyes flicker around, attempting to find a way to slip out. But, he’s read your mind, kicking a nearby bin over on its side.

“I never agreed to you hurting me.” You retaliate, flinching as he brings his right hand to your left cheek. Your eyes clench once again, but the delicate touch of his hand makes you gasp.

What is he doing? Is he seriously caressing my cheek?

The dim light from the nearby street lamps cast a soft light across his features, softening his appearance. If you weren’t so goddamn scared for your life and it was a man 20 years younger, maybe you wouldn’t mind this.

This is a textbook murder. What the fuck have I done?

He sighs, his fingerprints tracing a light pattern across your cheek. Each touch tingles, reminding you of where he’s touched. It’s similar to how your ex boyfriends would hold and touch you. It’s wrong, so wrong.

How can I think of Haejo right now!?

But, that’s until he gets rougher. Soon, he’s manhandling your face, using his thumb and fingers to hold your face in place by your chin. You spew complaints, twisting your body and using your hands to attempt to push him away.

“Didn’t anyone tell you to not talk to strange men on the street?” He sneers, disliking how you’re gradually dislodging yourself from his grasp. You ignore him, focusing on punching, shoving and kicking. You’re so distracted you don’t notice how his hand drops from your chin until it hits you.

He hits you.

You’re yelping, falling and scraping against the brick wall as tears cloud your vision. You’re crumbling, falling into yourself as you cry fat tears. Your ears are ringing and your face feels hot to the touch.

I’m reporting this fucker to the police.

“Fuck you!” You shout, looking up at his figure. Suddenly, you are the man you saw a few weeks ago. He stands unwavering, almost enjoying your crouched form. You can barely see between your tears and clumped lashes and you’re almost one hundred percent sure your mascara has streaked across your eyes, but you don’t care. You’re so fucking angry and scared, you’re shaking as you look at him.

“You agreed to play.” He’s right, but so obnoxious about it. He crouches to meet your form, staring at you as if you’re nothing but a scrawny child or animal. You might as well be.

Suddenly, he flicks a card between his index and middle finger, dropping it into your lap. It clatters and lands on the dirty ground, but you recognise the shapes Junhee told you about.

“Go to the address tomorrow. You’ll be the most valuable addition yet.”

With that, he leaves.

masterlist

[batsyvie]

May 12th —> Clue, May 13th and 14th COMBINED!!!! —> Heavenly Hosts//Agents of Hell, where Aziracrow are too busy internally monologuing to realise that the others are already fraternising (haha what if aziracrow set a precedent for angels and demons feeling free enough to love each other hahahaha [dm for free essay]), May 15th —> Promotion, May 16th —> 1827, May 17th —> Inspector Constable MY BELOVED!! crowley is still deciding whether they are a walking fashion faux pas, or if they’re onto something with the chinos/plaid skirt/bowtie/cardi combo.

Transcript for Slide Two’s rambling i formally apologise for the excuse that I call my handwriting

Aziraphale: Oh, dearest…How I yearn for you…But our love is 𝖋𝖔𝖗𝖇𝖎𝖉𝖉𝖊𝖓…No blasphemy burdens me more than the steadfast belief that you are better than Heaven…

Crowley: Damn it all…Even Fallen I’ll never escape Heaven’s cruel ordinance…I must keep my overwhelming adoration hidden under the guise of practiced nonchalance…⛓️🥀🐺

these are all pretty scrappy, MUCH APPOHIES!!! ApOLOGIES****

[mariacallous]

I do love my British Library Crime Classics and Golden Age mystery fiction, but sometimes it really is “have you read ‘Diddle, Diddle, Dumpling’, the 13th book by Selvena Empatojaytos (real name Joan Broadditch) for her Inspector Bovring series? A delightful locked room scenario set at Newbox Hall, but there are a few instances of anti-Asian language, and the victim is an unsympathetic Jewish blackmailer…”

[cottoncandytrafficcones]

10 Jewish Women from History Part 3

Shulamit Kishik-Cohen (1917-2017, Israel)

Born in Argentina, she immigrated to Mandatory Palestine as a child, and grew up in Jerusalem. At sixteen, she married a Lebanese Jewish merchant, and raised seven children with him. She established ties with the Beirut Jewish community and authorities, and helped smuggle information from Lebanon and Syria, as well as helped Jews escape. She assisted the Mossad in bringing Jews of Arab lands to Israel.

Raquel Liberman (1900-1935, Argentina)

A Polish-Jewish immigrant to Argentina. Born in the Kiev Governorate of Russia, she moved to Warsaw as a child. She married and followed her husband to Argentina with two sons. After her husband died, she began working as a prostitute though the trafficking network Zwi Migdal. She managed to buy her freedom, but was then fooled into a fake marriage with a husband who stole her savings and forced her back into a brothel. She escaped a second time and contacted a police inspector, filing a complaint in court. Her testimony brought to light Zwi Migdal's crimes, and over 100 members were detained.

Miriam bat Benayah (late 15th century-early sixteenth century, Yemen)

Daughter and sister of scribes, she was a Jewish scribe herself. She, along with her father and brothers, are credited with copying 400 books together. In one scroll of the Pentateuch, she wrote that she had copied while nursing a baby.

Hannah van Recklinghausen (1332-1349, Netherlands)

A banker and the earlies woman merchant known by name in the Netherlands. The daughter of a Jewish Court Jew from Germany, she is listed as her father's assistant and colleague from 1347.

Urania of Worms (?-1275, Worms)

A Jewish women who led other Jewish women in prayer in the synagogue, one of a handful of women to be doing said occupation in the 13th-14th centuries. he daughter of a rabbi.

Reynette of Koblenz (~1340-~1390, Germany)

A Jewish moneylender. She became a moneylender after her first husband died and continued independently through her second marriage. The size of her financial dealings surpassed those of both her husbands. In 1372, in response to the demands of the Andernacher city fathers, she raised 8,000 guildens to pay them.

Dulcea of Worms (?-1196, Germany)

A Jewish businesswoman and moneylender in the twelve century. Coming from an elite family, she married a famous Jewish theologist and leader. While her husband devoted himself to religion, she pursued economy and business. She also conducted business in parchment scrolls for extra income, and was a notable figure in the community, leading and teaching women.

Paula Dei Mansei (?-~1288, Verona)

A Jewish scribe and Torah scholar, thought to be the earliest known female Jewish scribe. Belonging to a family of scribes, she contributed to her father's biblical commentary, and translated the work from Hebrew to Italian. She also transcribed a prayer book, and a collection of laws.

Estellina Conat (15th century, Italy)

A Jewish printer and the first woman active as a printer. She was married to the man who founded the first Jewish printing press in 1475, and was active in the press independently of her husband.

Brenda Howard, 1946-2005, America)

A bisexual rights activist born in the Bronx. A feminist, she participated in and planned queer rights activities, and was active in the Gay Liberation Front and other queer organizations. Her activism included the 1987 March on Washington for Lesbian and Gay Rights.

[erisicy]

Phantom Blood Musical Rough Translations Master Post

Song Lyrics

Overture: Eternal Voice

M1: Light and Darkness (Already has a translation in the JoJo Wiki)

M2: Dio

M3: Invasion

M4: Hey Danny

M5: Fleeting Time

M6: Voice Calling from the Darkness

M7: I Won't Stop Beating You Until You Cry

M8: Trembling Era ~ Rugby

M9: 7 Years of Friendship

M10: Voice Calling from the Darkness <Reprise>

M11: Ogre Street

M12: Voice Calling from the Darkness - I Can't Help But Drink

M13: Golden Spirit

M14: Zeppeli's Notes

M15: Born Evil (Already has a translation in the JoJo Wiki)

M16: Courage

M17: Youth with Dio

M18: Voice Calling from the Darkness - Dio

M19: Fleeting Time <Reprise>

M20: Trembling Era - Darkness in the Back Alley

M21: Resolve of the Ripple

M22: Stars Drawn Together

M23: Pain

M24: Windknight's Lot

M25: Dio's World

M26: The North Wind Made the Vikings

M27: Knight's Pride, Gentleman's Heart

M28: Tomorrow is Now

M29: Golden Spirit <Reprise>

M30: Dio's World <Reprise>

M31: Fire and Ice

M32: A Story Told Even in the Next Universe

M33: Phantom Blood

Other Scenes (in order)

Old Speedwagon Opening Narration

Dario "Saves" George

Dio's Life in London

Jonathan and Erina Meet

Dio Arrives at the Mansion

Boxing Match

George and Dio Talk

Jonathan Carves his and Erina's Name on a Tree

Dio Kisses Erina

Aftermath of the Fight

George is Sick

Jonathan and Dio's Next Plan

Accidental Creation of a Vampire

George and Inspector Archer Flashback

Dio Returns to the Mansion

George Gets Stabbed

Dio Becomes a Vampire

Zeppeli Explains Hamon

Encounter With Wang Chan

The Effects of Hamon on Wang Chan

Encounter With Jack the Ripper

Jonathan and the Others Find Dio

Encounter With Dio

Tarkus and Bruford's Entrance

Bruford's Defeat

Zeppeli's Successor

Jonathan Confronts Dio (Musical Original Scene)

April 13th Curtain Call

Transcripts

April 13th Curtain Call (JP)

[nosferatini]

🕊️ The Season of Nightingales - Ch.23 🕊️

It’s Friday the 13th, exactly one year after the publishing day of this fic. I haven’t added to it since maternity leave, so as a fic anniversary present, I’m pushing the word count over 100k with this new chapter! 🥃🎊

~I will post chapters on Friday going forward!~

Fic Summary

The Second Coming looms large. Aziraphale must keep his vow to fix Heaven before it’s too late, without asking the impossible from Crowley. As the effort is complicated by unexpected friends, an ex-Inspector Constable, a guileful Metatron, and a Heavenly floor full of the Blessed Dead—Aziraphale and Crowley find navigating their relationship is not mutually exclusive from saving the world from Armageddon.

Chapter Excerpt:

When Aziraphale replaced the whisper glass in his pocket, the words of Agnes' prophecy began to play in his head, and this was mildly irritating—until the post-slumber haze cleared from his mind.  ‘When golden band rests o’er the fallen in the dark, provide ye on my box of apples a ring for a ring upon Anathema’s device, and the last ring shall thee wear.’ “Oh my.” His eyes went wide, and his [redacted] over Crowley's [redacted]

Read Chapter 23 on AO3

Or…

🕊️ Start From the Beginning! 🕊️

CW: Tooth rotting fluff and plot

Huge hugs and gratitude to my beloved betas, @addledmongoose, @dbacklot99, @demonsandpieohmy and u/blackjeans93 from @goodomensafterdark for helping me scrub and polish my baby, and to the lovely @searchingforakeythatdoesntexist for making me a writing logo at the last minute (which she did not have to do!)

@whickberstreetwriters

[lupincentral]

Have you heard the news?

Lupin III is diving into the world of live action once again, with Jigen Daisuke ‐ a spin-off film releasing “worldwide” on October 13th, 2023, exclusively on Amazon Prime Video!

Tetsuji Tamayama, who previously portrayed the character in the 2014 released feature film, will be returning to the role of Jigen.

Yoshimasa Akamatsu (BD ~Akechi Tantei Jimusho, Corpse Party: Book of Shadows) has produced the script for the film, and Hajime Hashimoto (The Detective Is in the Bar franchise, AIBOU: Tokyo Detective Duo, Shimauma, Signal) is directing.

In preparation for his reprising of the role, Tamayama states in an interview with Natalie that he has watched the Lupin the IIIRD spin-off film Jigen’s Gravestone, and hopes to bring this cooler, more mature version of the character to television screens come October.

Details on the plot are currently scarce - however, the Natalie article mentions that it involves Jigen searching Japan for the world’s greatest gunsmith, after his trusty combat magnum is in need of some TLC (and said gunsmith just happens to run a rather curious watch shop)…

More details on the film are to be revealed closer to its release date. For now, you can check out the films first trailer embedded below, and its announcement over at website Natalie.

After Lupin ZERO wrapping up at the end of last year, and VS. Cat’s Eye releasing in January, a live action Jigen spin-off is not where I expected TMS to go next with the Lupin franchise. It is, however, in my opinion, a welcome diversion from the norm.

I would be lying if I did not first meet the announcement with some scepticism, though, mostly due to the series’ less than stellar track record of live action adaptations (the amazing 2017 Inspector Zenigata spin-off drama aside). Taking a moment to think back, I quickly realised that while the live action film directed by Ryuhei Kitamura did not win the hearts of fans back in 2014, it did do one thing right - the casting.

Shun Oguri as Lupin III and Tadanobu Asano as Inspector Zenigata were big gets for the film, and both appeared to take their appearance throughout it seriously. Meisa Kuroki played a gorgeous, cunning Fujiko, with Go Ayano trying his best to bring the stoic samurai Goemon to life. It was Tetsuji Tamayama, however, that best looked the part. Fans on social media were swooning over his Jigen as soon as the character portraits were revealed, with some saying he was made for the role.

Despite issues with pacing and its overall narrative, all of the main cast members represented their anime / manga counterparts well, and if there is one positive to take away from that film, it would be their performances.

This gives me hope for Jigen Daisuke - with fresh writing staff and a keen new director to the franchise on board, with an actor we already know can do the character justice, both Amazon and TMS may be on to something special, here. Now slightly older and more experienced, I have full confidence Tamayama will exceed that of his already good performance as Jigen from 2014.

I’m looking forward to finding out how this comes together. Keep an eye out for a full review of the film come October, which I will aim to post up on lupincentral.com a few days after its release.

[notsve2]

DO YOU HEAR THE PEOPLE SING?

Les Miserables US National Tour - September 13th

Les Miserables is based on Victor Hugo’s famous 1862 novel of the same name. It follows Jean Valjean’s life after he is released from prison, Inspector Javier’s chase for him, and the people and events he encounters until his eventual death. The climax of the show revolves around a failed attempt of revolution in the streets of Paris. The technicians, actors, and crew created a full and lively world, something that is hard to create on a stage. Every minute of this show could easily be a scene from a movie or TV show, where elaborate sets and extras are far more common due to cuts between scenes. It was really amazing how fast and smooth the production crew would transport the audience into an entirely different place and time.

As with most productions, the technical aspects of the show were something I paid much more attention to. Something that stood out to me especially with this show was the use of projections, and while projections aren’t uncommon in theater, oftentimes they have a hard time mixing with the onstage actors and set pieces which tends to draw me out of the world. In Les Mis however, they mixed amazingly with the color theme established with the show and at various times I forgot they were even projections. They were also used in unique ways such as in “One Day More” where the actors were ‘fake’ marching but the projections behind them made them appear to be moving. This effect was also used in the second act when Valjean was dragging Marius’ body through the sewers, and the projections moved along with the actor through the system. I found an article after seeing the show which interviewed set designer Matt Kinley in 2019 from which he stated that many of the projected images used Victor Hugo’s original drawings, which is such a neat detail to me. Also using projections, at the end of the ‘prologue’ the stage went dark and the title of the show was projected onto the stage, acting as a title card. This really stood out to me because that isn’t something often used in stage theater and something I had never seen before, but it worked really well as a transition to signify both a time skip, and the end of Valjean’s prior life. The various sets also utilized a lot of levels, which was necessary due to the large cast. Everything from the barricade, the Cafe Musain, the Thénardiers inn, and simple scenes that took place in the town, really helping to fill the stage and ‘void’ above them. Many of the actors also made really nice choices, my favorites were between Gavroche and Grantaire. Gavroche would often comfort Graintaire when he got angry especially in “Drink with Me”, and after Gavroche’s death Graintaire holds him for a long moment. This small choice was so special I forgot what happened at this point in the show because I was focused on them instead. It was one of the many decisions that made this production feel like a full world.

I happened to notice a lot of unique staging aspects. Especially during Fantine’s death in Act One, when Valjean was sitting on her deathbed. The entire song, despite him singing some parts, his back was faced to the audience. I noticed this because typically this should be avoided, but combined with Fantine’s light-colored costume in contrast to his, it drawed the audience’s focus to her. This was the first time I noticed it’s use in the show and where I believe they used it best, but it was also used in other moments throughout the show. The blocking for this show was also very unique, being able to transport between locations almost seamlessly. In the opening of Act One, it opens to the street of France, then quickly transforms into the factory where Fatine works. It was not very noticeable, but if you looked close enough, you could see the ensemble placing the set pieces behind the first row of actors, so that when they moved, it revealed an entirely new scene. This effect was a great choice, and a risky one if not timed right.

Photos taken from the LES MISERABLES US TOUR OFFICIAL WEBSITE

[meetinginsamarra]

Self-rec Thingy

Fic authors self rec! When you get this, reply with your favorite five fics that you've written, then pass on to at least five other writers. spread the self-love ❤

Thank you for the tag @raina-at

It feels like betrayal to my beloved children 😉 to pick five but here we go.

The Perfect Place 

Sherlock needs a flatmate and already has the perfect person in mind. Now he only needs to convince his object of desire to move in and also find out if he desires Sherlock as well.

I am so in love with my second newest fic! Written daily for some of calais_reno's mayprompts 2024, it evolved into a hilarious funny cringefest with pining idiots and snarky comments made by the narrator. I grinned/laughed all the time while writing and people in the comments said they did, too. 10k words.

The Curious Case of the Casablanca Killer 

Deemed a three at best, the case of an invisible burglar in a historic cinema who stole nothing only caught Sherlock’s attention because he was bored. Also, he wanted to do John a favour. In the end, this proved to be a real stroke of luck. Otherwise, Sherlock would have missed an intriguing mystery that quickly ramped up in complexity.

I am very proud of this one! My first real 100% case fic. It took a lot of plotting and about a year to complete. It started as a gift for my friend and beta reader @peageetibbs , a short idea for a murder in a cinema since my friend runs a real cinema with a group of people in real life.

I have imagined that a lot more people would be eager to read this (ngl I am disappointed about its hit count development). Sherlock solves a complicated case, lots of hints and clues, all is logical and an epic chase sequence at the end. Established friendship, no smut. 56k words. Go read!

Learn My Scars 

After being thrown down and strangled, Sherlock leaves John in the restaurant, angry and deeply hurt. When John follows Sherlock to 221b, he learns that Sherlock's scars have not been acquired by “gallivanting around” for two years.

Very proud of this one, too. It has been written under a huge amount of stress. Written for whumptober 2022, it was posted daily for 31 days with sometimes really long chapters of over 2k words. Looking back, it feels like I've written all my spare time and doing little else for six weeks. It was insane and it was great.

It has the most kudos and second most hits of my fics, 38k words.

Sherlock comes home after the hiatus. My S3 fix-it fic starts at the restaurant scene and goes very differently afterwards. Johnlock endgame, lots of hurt/comfort and tales of what happened to Sherlock while being away, including a long part set in the Serbian cell.

The 13th Book 

Summoning a demon was actually quite simple if you could avoid getting killed in the process. Therefore, only the powerful, the desperate or the stupid would attempt it. John Watson was likely the first, definitely the second but hopefully not one of the third kind.

A magical realism AU. Sorcerer John summons a demon, Sherlock. It happens very differently than it's been expected. Not a lot of actual magic but enemies to friends and an epic bromance ensues. Funny moments, no smut. 26k words.

My AU world interweaves with BBC Sherlock universe and incorporates "Inspector Columbo" and "On the run elements" and this is the reason why I've picked the fic for this list. I made real still-life arrangements for each chapter and photographed them. The pics are posted in the fic. I am a bit sad that there are not so many hits on this one.

Wretched and Divine 

Dr. John Watson is on call at the A&E when he attempts to treat a very special patient. Instead he finds himself a very special treat.

My first ever posted fic. The punklock AU different first meeting is still very well-written (so I believe) for a first! It's funny, in character, on point and John is so in for a surprise! 5k words.

I love the punklock theme so much that this one spawned a sequel and I wrote another 3-part series with punk!Sherlock.

+++++++

Tagging @keirgreeneyes and everone who wants to share (I forgot who's already been tagged).

[inspectorspacetimerevisited]

Rickshaw: ‘You really have no idea who I am and what I do, do you?’

The Inspector: ‘That doesn’t really matter. See, you’re on my patch now, so it’s you who don’t know who you’re dealing with.’

[hand-picked-star]

The 13th Anniversary Arshi Fiesta

Moodboard : Historical AU

Whispers of the Heart | Chapter 23

DISCLAIMER: The story is set in the early 20th century. While I have made efforts to capture the essence of the era, there may be inaccuracies as this is a work of fantasy. I do not own the characters Arnav and Khushi, and this story is purely fictional with no relation to any real individuals, living or dead. Any resemblance to actual persons or events is purely coincidental.

WARNING: 18+, MATURE CONTENT.

Chapter 23

The Nine accused that Arnav and the police interrogated today were tight-lipped. Arnav couldn’t take any action until they had solid evidence against Mr.Rajjani or one of them broke and agreed to be a state witness. He knew he had to find a way to crack at least one of them, and his focus was on a specific suspect—Ramprasad Lallan. There was something about him, an air of authority, that made Arnav certain he was the head of the herd.

"Mr. Roy, have you gathered all the information about the property papers that were confiscated?" Arnav asked his assistant.

"Yes, sir. The lands that Mr. Lala claimed he bought from Mr. Tiwari are adjacent to his new steel factory."

"Mr. Roy, please jot down all the dates of the previous dacoity cases and go to the Land Registry Office to check for any land transactions around that time involving the victims, especially if it was with Mr. Lala. Also, send someone to collect information about Ramprasad Lallan... and be discreet."

Sending Mr. Roy on his way, Arnav went to meet Inspector Shukla, the officer in charge of the area. Inspector Shukla had a reputation for being an honest police officer. He was also the investigating officer of this case. Because of his hard work and dedication, the police managed to capture these ruthless dacoits. Upon seeing Arnav, he stood from his chair to greet him.

"Good morning, Mr. Shukla. How have you been?" Arnav asked, extending his hand for a handshake.

"I am good, Mr. Raizada. How can I help you?" Inspector Shukla replied.

"I need your assistance with a matter." Arnav handed him a paper containing a drawing of a tattoo, which he had gathered from the statement of the only surviving adult victim in the cases they were handling. "Have you seen anything like this before?"

"No, sorry, Mr. Raizada," Inspector Shukla shook his head in the negative.

"Can you ask your constables to search the accused for any tattoos or birthmarks on their bodies?" Arnav requested.

"Yeah, sure can. I'll have them look right away," Inspector Shukla replied, immediately ordering one of the constables to conduct the search. Meanwhile, Arnav and Inspector Shukla continued discussing the case.

A few moments later, the constable came rushing toward them, reporting a mark on their bodies. Arnav and Mr.Shukla quickly rushed to the cell where the suspects were held. There, they found the same tattoo of a pentagonal star on each of their right thighs, confirming Arnav's suspicion.

The next day, Mr. Roy arrived at the office with all the information he had collected, marking a significant breakthrough in the investigation.

"Sir, all of the victim's family had sold lands or properties to Mr. Lala around the time they were attacked and killed. Here's the documents."

"Hmm, and what about Mr. Lallan?"

"Mr. Lallan is a farmer, and has a 10-year-old son. So far, there's no connection to Mr. Lala or Mr. Rajjani. However, when I dug further, I found that 10 years ago, Mr. Lala gave some land to Mr. Lallan. It’s unclear whether Mr. Lallan bought it from him or if it was a charity. Anything else, sir?"

"No, that will do for now. Tell Inspector Shukla that I need to interrogate Mr. Lallan in one hour and ask him to keep a magistrate ready."

An hour later, Arnav sat with Mr. Lallan for the interrogation, aiming to turn him into a state witness. They were in a dimly lit room with a large wooden table. Arnav sat on one side, while Ramprasad Lallan, looking tense and uncertain, sat across from him.

"How are you, Ramprasad?" After receiving no answer, Arnav discarded formalities and got straight to the point. "Do you remember your son? Have you ever thought about what will happen to him after you die?" Ramprasad went completely still, his previously composed face twitching at the mention of his son.

Ramprasad gulped audibly.

"...because it is pretty much confirmed that you would be sentenced to death. However, I might be able to help you if you agree to cooperate," Arnav said, arching an eyebrow.

Ramprasad chuckled sarcastically.

"Ramprasad, I truly sympathize with you. let's be honest here, you've spent your life serving a boss who doesn't give a damn about you." A surprised look crossed over Ramprasad's face. "Isn't it obvious that there's someone else pulling the strings? Why are you so surprised?" Arnav continued. "So, where was I? Oh..yes, do you know Mr. Rajjani has a top defence lawyer? Still, no one's lifting a finger for you? That should tell you where you stand. I'm offering you the best chance you’ve got."

"How?" Ramprasad asked, his voice trembling slightly.

Arnav smirked faintly at his question. "We could appeal to the judge to reduce your punishment, you might have a chance to escape the death sentence."

"What do I have to do?"

"You need to tell us the truth and testify against the others in court. It's as simple as that."

"You are out of your mind, Mr. Raizada," Ramprasad chuckled sarcastically.

"Listen, Ramprasad, I know you're in a tough position, and I also know who is involved in this. Today or tomorrow, I will collect evidence against them. But today, you have a chance, but tomorrow, you won't. The question is, how do you want to come out of this? Do you want to go down alone and let the main culprit go free? Because to him, you are expendable. One Ramprasad will go, and another will take your place. He might even recruit your son. Would you like that?"

Arnav saw Ramprasad clench his fists, still bound by the handcuffs, his forehead veins throbbing as he glared at Arnav with murderous intent.

"If you don't want that to happen, I can offer you an agreement," Arnav said, extending a pen, a seal pad, and a piece of paper toward him. "I can appeal to the judge for a lifelong sentence instead of the death penalty."

Ramprasad took the pen with shaky hands and signed his name on the agreement paper. "You are quite educated despite being a farmer, Ramprasad." Arnav remarked.

"I need my family's protection."

"You have my word," Arnav replied, nodding as he signalled Inspector Shukla and the magistrate to enter the room. "Start talking. Who else is in the group? Is Mr. Rajjani included?"

"Yes, everyone arrested was part of this group."

"Anyone else that we might need to know?" Arnav pressed.

"Yes," Ramprasad hesitated, then continued, "There is another, but he isn’t directly involved in the attacks. He usually plans the whole thing and covers our tracks," his voice tinged with reluctance.

"Who?"

"You already know, don't you?"

"I want you to confirm that."

"Shyam Manohar lalaji."

"Is looting the only intent of this group?"

"Dacoity isn’t our main focus. I handle property papers on behalf of Shyam Lala Ji—illegally, you could say. Most people agreed to sell their land to Lala Ji easily, but for some, we had to take extreme measures if there was no other way." Ramprasad continued, "Mr. Tiwari didn't agree to sell the land adjacent to the steel factory, which Lala Ji needed to expand due to increasing demand. So we decided to take the land by force."

"Hmm, carry on."

"I recruited the other seven people. They only know me and not Lala Ji or Rajjani Ji. During the attack, Rajjani Ji and I threatened Mr. Tiwari to get him to sign the papers while the others looted the house."

"So, the dacoity is just a disguise?"

"Yes, you could say that."

"Were there other houses you attacked?"

"Yes, the first was the Chauhans, then the Guptas, followed by the Doobays, the Sharmas and the Khans, and lastly the Tiwari's."

"Did Lala Ji join you in these attacks?"

"He used to join us initially, but not after that. The last time he was present was during the Gupta house attack," Ramprasad hesitated, his voice dropping, "He... had his eye on Gupta Ji's wife."

"And Mr. Rajjani?"

"Umm, Rajjani Ji joined us every time because he needed to verify the papers and... he also wanted to carry out some specific activities."

"Specific activities involving being physical with a child?" Arnav asked, his voice hardening.

"Yes," Ramprasad admitted, avoiding eye contact.

"What’s the story behind the marks on your thighs?"

"To hide our identity from others, even from the others involved, we’d cover them with a gamcha. We would tie our lungis tightly around our waists, leaving our thighs exposed. So, to recognize each other, we made this mark on our thighs."

"Everyone in your group has it?" Arnav asked pointedly.

"Yes," Ramprasad replied, then eyed Arnav for a moment. "Raizada Ji, Lala Ji is a very dangerous man. If he finds out about this, he will kill my family. Please, save my son and my wife."

Arnav gave a brief nod, his expression firm, yet reassuring, "Nobody will know until the trial. Inspector Sukla will look after this matter."

Arnav dropped Mr. Roy at the office with strict instructions to both the police and Mr. Roy not to leak the fact that Mr. Lallan had become a state witness. He then went to pick up Khushi.

"Where are we going?" she asked, confused.

"We're going to stay at the Rajput Haveli for a few days. Hariprakash will bring your things and Amy in a few hours," Arnav replied, keeping his voice steady. When they arrived at the main gate, he showed no sign of getting out of the car.

"Aren't you coming inside?" Khushi asked, noticing his reluctance.

"I have some works to do," he said curtly, his eyes betraying the weight of his restlessness.

Khushi was perplexed. Within a few hours, she discovered that Arnav had appointed Hariprakash, Mohan, and the entire security team from their house to guard the Rajput Haveli. A few hours later, two police constables joined them. The tension in the Haveli was palpable, with everyone on edge due to this sudden development. Only Arnav could answer their questions.

When Arnav returned to the office, Shyam Lala was seated in front of his desk, three men standing behind him.

"Namaste, Raizada Babu," Shyam said, folding his hands in greeting.

"How can I help you, Lala Ji?" Arnav responded, nodding politely.

"I usually don’t concern myself with trivial matters, you know, but I came to talk specifically to you about... Rajjani Ji."

"Shouldn’t you be discussing this with his defence lawyer instead?" Arnav asked, his tone pointed.

"Oh, Raizada Babu, let’s keep this between us," Shyam said, signalling one of the men, who placed a box on the desk. When the lid was opened, it revealed bundles of money. "Let’s help each other. You can’t prove his involvement, so why tarnish his name? He’s a respected man in society."

"Why go to such lengths for a mere employee? What’s in it for you?"

"Nothing. He’s an old friend and a loyal accountant. I just don’t want to see his reputation ruined."

"Lala Ji, thank you for the offer, but I suggest you use this money to hire a good defence lawyer."

"Raizada Babu, don’t force me to use other means. You won’t like it if I do." Mr.Lala said with a sickeningly sweet voice.

Arnav chuckled sarcastically, leaning back in his chair. "Why should you care whether I'll like it or not?"

Shyam signalled his men to leave the room, then leaned in close over the desk, lowering his voice. "Tell me, Raizada Babu, does your wife's cunt grip as tightly as her mother's did? I've seen first-hand how those Gupta women make a man lose his mind. Must be why you've got such nerve now, a pretty little thing warming your bed every night." He smiled sleazily, watching the tension build in Arnav's clenched fists, "Don't push me, Raizada Babu, I'd hate to find out just how far a man like me might go when tempted."

Arnav placed both hands firmly on his desk, rising to his full height and leaning in toward Mr. Lala."If you or your goons dare to touch even a single hair of my wife, I'll make sure you end up six feet under right where you stand." His voice menacing and dark in the dim light of the evening, Arnav challenged Mr.Lala to contradict him further. Mr.Lala stood up and glared back at Arnav. "And Lala Ji, please take your money with you."

When Arnav returned to the Rajput household, it was very late at night, but everyone was still awake, waiting for him. They all gathered in the living room as Arnav explained that the dacoit group recently arrested was the same one responsible for killing Khushi's parents. This was why Arnav had been extra cautious regarding Khushi. And also as it was a high-profile case, if anyone wanted to hurt Arnav, they might target her. Prevention was always better than cure. He also informed Bua Ji that she might be called to testify if needed.

Khushi didn’t know what to think of all of that. Exhausted, her head ached from all the overwhelming information. She just wanted to retreat to her room, hide under the covers, and forget about everything else.

She was walking down a familiar corridor, but it was so dark that not a single source of light could be found anywhere. Khushi gently pushed a door open. Inside, a small girl was sleeping soundly, cuddling with a familiar rag doll. Suddenly, a woman entered the room. She was beautiful, but panic and desperation had marred her face. She quickly took the sleeping girl into her arms, causing the child to jolt awake.

"Amma?" the little girl asked in surprise. Her sweet voice rang in the darkness.

"We have to hide, bitiya. They will kill us all. We have to hide," the woman said hysterically.

But before they could flee, a dark shadow loomed over them. A man entered the room, his face obscured. He took a menacing step toward them, causing the woman to step back, clutching the little girl to her chest.

Khushi's body felt like lead, paralyzed, her screams caught in her throat. She tried to cry out, to call for help, but her voice was lost in the void. She tried to run toward them, but she couldn't move a single muscle. Helplessly, she watched as the woman slipped and fell with the little girl still in her arm, causing the child to hit her head. The faceless monster laughed, his cruel hands tearing at Garima's clothes, his laughter echoing in the small room like a twisted melody.

Khushi met the eyes of the little girl, trapped in the suffocating grip of a memory she could never fully escape. The stench of fear hung heavy in the air as she lay still, hearing the faint sound of her own whimpers. Her head throbbed with pain. Little khushi felt the cold touch of dread as another figure emerged from the shadows, advancing toward her with a sinister smile. She could see his eyes now—cold, predatory, and filled with a sickening intent. He reached for her, and her small frame trembled as she backed away into the wall, her tiny hands fumbling for something, anything, to protect herself.

Suddenly, she jolted awake, her heart pounding fiercely against her chest. She froze as a hand around her drew her closer to the body behind, while a voice whispered, "Shhhh, you're safe, Khushi. I've got you."

"Arnav?"

"Hmm, I'm here," his sleepy, tired voice rasped.

Khushi rolled over to face him. Her eyes adjusted to the darkness. She could see his features in the dim light filtering through the curtains. She cupped his cheek, lightly tracing the dark circles under his eyes. Then she buried her face in his neck and began to cry softly.

"Please don't cry," Arnav murmured, kissing her head. His fingers gently stroking through her hair.

"I'm not letting you sleep, hain na?" she said softly. "You work all day and have to deal with my nightmares at night."

"You know I can function with little sleep. I'll be okay."

"There's a dark circle under your eyes."

"It will go away," he said, caressing her back and snuggling closer. Let's get some sleep, okay?" Khushi nodded in response, still nestled in the safe cradle of his neck.

It was true that Arnav was beyond exhausted. His mind was overactive, his heart heavy, and as a result his body couldn't relax until the matter was resolved. Arnav calculated the risks associated with the case, but he hadn't anticipated the return of Khushi's nightmares. Night after night, horrifying dreams and screams kept them awake until the early hours. Arnav still remembered the first time they began. It was the first night, they shifted to Rajput Haveli. He was with Mahindar Chachu while Khushi was fast asleep.

“What type of relationship did Guptaji and Lalaji have with each other?” Arnav asked.

“They were business partners. They had many businesses together. Other than that they bought a land together to set up a new printing press. But before that could happen, Sashi died. He supposedly sold the land to Lalaji.”

"What happened to these businesses?"

"Khushi's uncle took over. I didn't keep tabs after Sashi died." Mahindar Chachu replied solemnly.

A blood-curdling scream caused them to rush toward Khushi’s room. Arnav quickly switched on the light. He discovered her hunched at the far end of the bed, clutching her knees with a terrified expression on her face, the sheet crumpled around her.

"Khushi?" Arnav approached her cautiously. "Tum theek ho?"

His voice pulled her out of the trance, and she looked at him, finally regaining her bearings. She began to cry softly.

"Arnav," she whimpered, crawling into his lap. Arnav rocked her back and forth, gently rubbing her back as she sobbed against his chest, clutching a fistful of his shirt. Since then, Arnav had been on the edge and being a light sleeper he could tell when she was having a bad dream.

The nightmares were becoming increasingly uncontrollable with each passing day, to the point where Khushi was afraid to close her eyes to sleep. As days went on, her mother's lifeless face was beginning to look like Arnav's, making Khushi restless and jumpy. The nightmares were taking control of her life, and she couldn't let that happen. Fed up with her helplessness and feeling confined to the house for days, she decided to go to work at her foundation one day, only to end up being yelled at by Arnav when he found out that evening.

"Pagal ho gayi ho tum. Kuch ho jata toh? What if I lost you?" he said, his voice laced with anger.

She hugged him suddenly to ebb his rage. "I can't live like this, Arnav," she said, her voice muffled against his collar. "This fear is crippling me. I took Hariprakash and Mohan with me. They wouldn't do anything in daylight."

"You don't know them. They can do anything," he replied, tightening his hold on her. "I can't lose you. Do you understand?"

“Hmm. And you can’t raise your voice at me like that.”

“I will whenever you’re being stupid,” he said, hugging her a little tighter. “Just a little while longer, and it will be over.” And then he felt her forehead. “Are you okay? Are you running a fever?”

“It’s nothing. I’m just feeling tired all the time, but... I can’t sleep, you know.”

“Let’s go to bed early, okay?”

Arnav still had some work to finish. After Khushi fell asleep, he quietly switched on the bedside lamp and began reading the documents. After a while, she started tossing and turning, followed by her soft whimpers. Arnav quickly took her into his arms, gently trying to wake her while murmuring comforting words.

Khushi's voice trembled as she whispered, "It's so horrible. I can't take it anymore." She fisted the fabric of his shirt, bringing herself closer to him, "Arnav, please make me forget everything..... I want to forget about all of this." Her eyes, still wide with lingering fear, searched his, pleading for solace, for an escape from the memories that tormented her.

Arnav cupped her face gently, his thumbs brushing away the tears that clung to her cheeks. His heart ached to see her like that. He leaned in, pressing a soft kiss to her forehead, his lips lingering as if trying to erase the pain etched into her skin."Khushi," he murmured against her temple, his voice a soothing balm, "I won't let anyone hurt you." She closed her eyes, savouring the warmth of his breath against her skin, the steady rhythm of his heartbeat beneath her palm.

Slowly, she let herself be pulled into the safety of his embrace, the solid presence of him grounding her, pushing the nightmare further into the recesses of her mind. His hands slid down to her waist, drawing her closer until there was no space left between them. His lips brushed over her eyelids, her cheeks, the tip of her nose kiss a silent promise. Khushi sighed, her body melting into his as his lips found hers in a kiss that was tender, yet laced with an intensity that made her forget everything but the feeling of being in his arms.

His fingers tangled in her hair, pulling her closer, deepening the kiss as if he could draw out all the fear, all the pain, and replace it with the love he felt for her. She responded to his kiss with a desperation that matched his own, her hands gripping the fabric of his shirt as if he were her lifeline. The taste of him, the warmth of his skin against hers-it was all she needed to chase away the remnants of her nightmare. Khushi tugged at the waistband of his trousers.

Arnav pulled back slightly, his breath ragged, his forehead resting against hers. Her eyes fluttered open to meet his gaze, finding comfort in the love that shone in his dark eyes. A silent conversation passed between those two sets of beautiful eyes.

"I just need you," her voice trembled. He didn't need to be told twice. With a gentleness that contradicted the desire burning within him, he laid her back against the pillows, his body covering hers, shielding her from the world. His hands roamed over her skin, touching her as if she were something precious, something to be cherished. Because she was, to him. He entered her warm wetness gently and then went completely still as a cracking sound halted his pursuit.

"Fuck, the bed is making noise." Arnav groaned in her neck.

Her whole body shook with the force of her laughter, barely muffled by her hand. "I completely forgot my bed makes noise." It was a relief and a delight to see her laugh like that after so many days, and Arnav's eyes shone with laughter as a result as well. He missed her smiling face.

"Tumhari bistar hai na, chup kaise reh sakti hai?" he couldn’t help but tease her.

"Shut up," she swatted his shoulder lightly. "Bistar ki bezzati mat kijiye. Teak ki lakdi hai, pachaas saal se Raiput Haveli mein hai."

"Hmm, pata chal raha hai kitni purani hai, ab?"

"We have to move to the floor."

"Ugh, my knees will be very sorry tomorrow."

Khushi looked at him with her big, expressive eyes and laughed at his grumpiness. She grabbed a pillow and a quilt and dropped them on the floor. She pushed on his shoulder to lie back on it. His eyes locked onto hers as she straddled him, her slender legs on either side of his hips. Her hands rested on his chest, feeling the rapid beat of his heart beneath her fingertips, mirroring her own.

He inhaled sharply as he felt her warmth enveloping him. The feeling of her softness around him, so pliable against his hardness, was breathtaking. His strong hands found their way to her hips, his touch firm yet tender, guiding her with an unspoken understanding. Leaning forward slightly on his chest, her fingers splaying out over the firm muscles beneath his skin, grounding herself as she began to move, slowly at first, her rhythm uncertain. Her body adjusted to the exquisite sensation of him deep within her. His gaze never wavered, his silent encouragement fueling her confidence.

Every slight shift of her hips sent waves of pleasure radiating through her. She bit her lips as her head tilted back, her hair cascading down her shoulders as she rode him with increasing fervor. The tips of her hair grazed his thigh as the tension between them built with each rise and fall of her body.

Her breath came in shallow gasps. Her body completely in tune with his as they found a shared rhythm. He gazed up at her entrapped, reveled in the sight of her above him, lost in her own pleasure. His hands glided over her thigh to her hips, to encircle her waist in both hands, feeling the tremble in her stomach muscles. He could feel every subtle shift, every flex of her muscles as she took him deeper.

Her nimble fingers gently covered his hands holding her waist. She looked down, gazing at him, with eyes full of stars. Her lips quivered, unable to form the words she didn’t need to voice. He could hear them in his head, loud and clear. His gaze moved to where they were joined. Arnav had accepted that he would never get enough of her a long time ago. Just like, he would never get enough of the way she looked at him right after he entered her every damn time or the visual his hands created across her body, or the sight of himself disappearing into her, over and over again.

His hands roamed from her waist to her breasts, cupping and squeezing them a little, before one of his hands moved higher to her chin. He ran his thumb over her slightly parted lips. A breathtaking pleasure overwhelmed her and she threw her head back once again. His hands slipped from her lips to her throat. And his fingers, as if having a mind of their own, wrapped around her soft neck.

Like always, his touch set her entire body on fire, but the irony was that the only balm for this burning was his touch as well. Her pace quickened and she cried out sweetly, as her mind went blank, tiny specks of light danced in front of her eyes. Arnav pulled her closer by her neck, covering her lips with his to suppress her moan.

"Shh, be quiet"

"I can't." she pants against his lips.

"Try."

"We haven't been together for quite some time. I miss you."

His eyes softened, and he captured her whimpering lips once again. His hands traced her back, pulling her closer until her chest was pressed against his. He snaked his arm around her waist to steady her as she lay on top of him. With his other hand on her rear, he pulled her harder toward his body. Then he started moving inside her.  She spread her legs wider and arched her back so he could pick up the pace.

Her hair fell around them, creating an intimate space where only they existed. Their lips met in a searing kiss, desperate and consuming, as if they had been waiting to kiss each other for hundreds of years. Her breath hitched as she felt his fingers dig into her skin, grounding her, anchoring her to the moment. As he moved faster, harder, her body responded to the primal urge to merge, to lose herself in him.

Arnav gathered her hair in his fist and pulled slightly exposing her neck to him as his lips found the sensitive spot at

the base of her neck. His voice, rough with need, whispered her name against her skin like a prayer. Her hands tangled in his hair, giving herself over to the sensations building within her. The world outside ceased to exist. There was only Arnav, only the warmth of his skin against hers, the sound of his breathing mingling with her own. Time seemed to stretch and contract,.moments blurring together in a haze of pleasure.

As she approached the peak of her desire, her body trembled with the intensity of the emotions coursing through her. Arnav held her steady, his hands never leaving her, his lips never straying from hers as he guided her through the storm.

He flipped her over when his lips failed to keep her quiet. He covered her mouth with his palm, her body convulsing around him encouraging him to follow her into the abyss of pleasure. He bit his bottom lip. A few hard and rough thrusts, and he poured himself deep inside her.

It felt surreal to have him with her in this room. With all the tension and sleeplessness, she had almost forgotten how many dreams she had woven around him here. This was the room where she had heard her first "dhak-dhak" for him, where they had shared their first kiss, where she had prayed to Devi Maiya to write him into her destiny. And now, in this room, with Arnav's touch guiding her, Khushi let go of the nightmare, that haunted her for so long.

His kisses, his caresses-they became her sanctuary, his whispered words of love a shield against the shadows that threatened her peace of mind. As their bodies began to move together again in a rhythm as old as time, Khushi felt the darkness recede, replaced by the warmth and light that only Arnav could give her. In his arms, she found not just escape, but a reminder that she was more than her past, more than the pain she had endured. And when the night finally gave way to the soft light of dawn, Khushi fell asleep in his arms, her body spent, but her heart full. She knew that as long as she had him, she could face anything.

<previous> | <next>

@featheredclover @arshifiesta @phuljari @chutkiandchotte @msbhagirathi @jalebi-weds-bluetooth

[scotianostra]

On January 13th 1958 serial killer, Peter Manuel, was arrested for spree of attacks that left 9 people dead.

Manuel had previous convictions for sexual violence and rape was a factor in some murders, such as 17-year-old Anne Kneilands in 1956 (for which he was never convicted due to insufficient evidence) and 17-year-old Isabelle Cooke in 1957 (whose body he located for police with the chilling words, “I’m standing on her now”). Others were more cold and almost gratuitous, like Peter and Doris Smart and their ten-year-old son Michael whom he all shot dead on New Year’s Day 1958, after which he simply relaxed in their Uddingston house for a week and took care of the cat.

Manuel defended himself at trial, with the usual results; however, latter-day investigations have argued that police in building this extremely high-profile case buried evidence of Manuels’ severe mental illness that might have saved him from the gallows.

In the STV drama In Plain Sight we saw the story of Chief Inspector William Muncie, seen in the second pic, who spent over a decade obsessed with Manuel, I think the series did a good likeness with casting both Dougie Henshall, as Muncie, and Martin Compston, as Manuel.

Prior to his arrest, the media nicknamed the unidentified killer "the Beast of Birkenshaw". Manuel was hanged at Glasgow's Barlinnie Prison on July 11th 1958, he was the second to last prisoner to die on the Barlinnie gallows. His last words are reported to have been: "Turn up the radio and I'll go quietly".

Around the time of his trial and execution, some newspapers published claims that Manuel was responsible for several other unsolved murders from the 1950s, but the evidence for this is tenuous at best, and in some cases it can be shown that he was in prison at the time.

Manuel was one of the last people to be executed in Scotland, only two more were sent to the gallows after him. Read more details about this story here http://www.capitalpunishmentuk.org/manuel.html

[batnbreakfast]

Zoom, Booze, no Doom

The 4th Year Anniversary Zoom

Hi everyone,

honestly, I feel like by now we're all kind of expecting to make the fourth anniversary happen - and yet it still comes as a surprise. Holby City might have been cancelled, but we're still going strong.

What started as a great idea by @danceswithcows01​ for the Berena fandom to connect during complicated times, became a weekly Saturday evening meeting for all of us who wanted to see our two favourite doctors being loveable idiots.

Then we decided to not just stop there, but to continue meeting up to chat and watch things.

Inspector Lynley, Bramwell, Chandler & Co, Frankie. Doctor Who, The Grid, Halloween specials, What The Butler Saw, Bernie's resurrection, the rooftop proposal, ESC, Buddha of Suburbia, and so many other things.

Last year we even had a live Zoom crowd meeting in the UK to watch Jemma and Catherine on stage (unfortunately separate ones).

The whole thing is great fun. A constant between all the changes during the last years. It transitioned the fandom quite a bit.

Therefore I hope that many of you who've joined in during the last four years will also join in to celebrate

Four Years of Zoom, Booze, no Doom

on

Saturday, 13th April

at the usual time

Germany 9pm

UK 8pm

Wisconsin 2pm

It doesn't matter if you haven't been part of this for ages, if you only joined in once, or if you always thought about joining in, but never actually did so. Message me if you got any questions.

We're going back to our roots and we'll watch the fandoms ten eleven favourite Berena moments.

I'm looking forward to seeing you all!

[phantriicks]

The Most fashionable duo around @fyeahghosttrick's Ghost swap exchange 2023, Swap Recipient is @dreamdancerdotfile

It's wild to think this is the final ghost swap, it's Ghost trick's 13th anniversary AND and it wont be long until the remastered port of Ghost trick releases. What a good time for ghost tricking!

So what better way to celebrate it then with Inspector Cabanela and Missle being snazzy per one of my swap recipients requests ~

[randomquadballpun]

DAY 4 (attempt no 2)

John padded into the living room while towling his hair dry and stretching out his sore shoulders. Todays shift at the clinic had been gruelling and on more than one occasion had included people sneezing, drooling and bleeding all over him. So the first thing he had done when getting back home had been a long scorching hot shower.

This afternoon Mrs Hudson had taken over child-rearing duties while Sherlock had been off on a case with Lestrade. He had sent them a message approximately an hour ago that the investigation would be wrapped up within a maximum of two hours and was way less interesting than the Inspector had promised. At least he would be back in time for dinner with the rest of the family.

By the smell of it, Mrs Hudson and Rosie had spent their afternoon together cooking said dinner and were now exploring the experiments on the crowded kitchen table together, while their meal simmered on.

"So first you have to mix the DNA with the bacteria!", Rosie explained with a serious expression, as she continued to show off what she had learned earlier this week. "You have to always keep them on ice because they don't like the liquid that they are stored in - but if you keep them cold they are sleepy and won't realise that." She gave John a sly look. "It's like when Dad tricks Sherlock into having breakfast right after he just woke up because then he won't remember that he does not like eating while he is on a case."

"That makes sense", Mrs Hudson encouraged with a twinkle in her eyes before turning to John. "There is tea on the coffee table, if you want some, dear!"

He gave her a thankful nod and left the towel slung around his neck as he walked over to the teapot in question. With a sigh, he poured himself a mug and revelled in the familiar warmth against his fingers.

"Then next, you dunk the tube in warm water for a few seconds", Rosie continued. "That is called heat shock and the bacteria will be so surprised and distracted that the DNA can sneak right in." She flailed her arms around in an attempt to visualise the process. "That is a bit like …", she paused, her nose scrunched up in thought. "Like two weeks ago when Sherlock gave me the hand sign to 'accidentally' drop my plate so that Uncle Greg would be distracted while Sherlock slipped his police badge back into his pocket."

John almost dropped his mug at that and hissed when hot tea sloshed all over his fingers. "He did what now?"

To no ones surprise his indignant question was ignored masterfully. Mrs Hudson gave Rosie an indulgent smile. "Well, you will have to tell me if your experiment worked out so that I can come and have a look at it myself!" She raised one finger in mock admonishment. "But you cannot do it today. It's Friday the 13th. If you repeat it today that will be bad luck and it will just go wrong once again."

Rosie looked up at her with big earnest eyes. "Well, that's just silly superstition with no base in scientific reality so Sherlock won't like it." She lowered her voice conspiratorily. "But I will convince him to do it tomorrow anyway - just to be safe. Just don't tell him about this!"

Mrs Hudson gave her an enthusiastic thumbs up.

--------------------

Troubleshooting, part 3/?

-> Take a guess whose experiment did not work out again. I am not bitter, just disappointed (but on the flip side there is just plenty of inspiration to keep writing these! :))))

-> The next snippet can be read here!

-> Start reading right at DAY 0 or read the previous part (DAY 1).