#His name is Venza and I love him

[appleziel]

Venza Tavrus "Tav" Steelsong, a tiefling swords bard.

I've had so much fun designing this Tav! The character builder served as the reference. Venza was my chance to play around with colors and lean wholeheartedly into the gaudy bard aesthetic.

Some character roleplaying facts: he tells everyone who asks (and especially those who don't) that he got his scars in a fierce battle with a hippogriff—(or was it a chimera...? Or maybe a baby hydra...let's just agree to say it was all three)...but in actuality he got them when he tripped during swords practice as a young boy, fell, landed on his dropped blades and cut his cheek open.

His favorite color is purple (except for Tuesdays, when it changes to maroon), he plays the violin, he would die for his best bud Volo whom he's met all of two (2) times, and whenever the lockpick breaks while he's "investigating unfortunately unyielding chests," it's the lockpick's fault, not his, damn it.

For all his attention-seeking tendencies, he gets unexpectedly shy when complimented and prefers to work on new songs in private until he feels ready to share them.

[rudnitskaia]

Rocky and Mau could possibly have two kids.

First one is their son Niccolò, who was born in the middle of 1930. After the shootout in Casa di Rondine in November of 1929 Maura and Augusto survive and manage to flee from St. Louis to some backwoods. And soon Mau finds out she expects a child, but she can't contact Rocky, because this was extremely dangerous in their situation. The threat of the New York's crime syndicate that pursued the Venza family since 1926 vanishes in early 1931, since the syndicate was practically exterminated both by rival gangs and law enforcement authorities. This allows Maura to go to find Rocky. If he's still alive and has no other partner by that point, she'd find him through Calvin and they'd start to live together. Otherwise, if Rocky's alive, but has a new life and a new partner/family, Mau won't interrupt - she'd ask Calvin not to tell Rocky about her, and Rocky most probably never knows Niccolò exists, while Mau stays a solo mom. Technically, in both cases Rocky and Maura would still be married by that point, but if Rocky is with someone else in 1931 and Mau decides not to interfere in his life, she would be considered dead/MIA after a while and Rocky could easily claim and achieve the annulment of their spontaneous marriage. Mau usually calls Nic nocciolino mio (my little nut), and it's easy to think she actually named her kid like that because he was a little bean with hazelnut fur (or hair in human version). But the real reason why she called her son Niccolò is because she's an awful punster and his dad is a violinist, and she desperately wanted to joke that the mix would be Niccolò Punganini. Thankfully, the boy will never know the origins of his name. x')) And I also assume that if Mau stayed a solo mother, Nic would've carried the Venza surname, not Rickaby. Nic took more after Maura in his appearance, but his physique is more like Rocky's. He's a smart and lively kiddo, who will grow into a vibrant young man. His highest dream is to become an aviator (pun intended) and to see the world, and one day he'd pave his way to civil aviation, achieving both of his dreams.

The second kid of Rocky and Mau is their daughter Lily, who was born in the end of 1932. As I stated above, the birth of Lily happens only in case Rocky manages both to stay alive and stay single until 1931. Lily was conceived in even hungrier years of the Great Depression, and therefore was born prematurely and had a huge chance of not surviving. Lily's name was also undoubtfully predestined by it. When Rocky saw her for the first time, so weak and small, he was a crying mess, constantly repeating something like "these little fingers", "these little ears" etc., and the sound of this word, "little", was so similar to the name "Lily" that it was decided to keep it. Was her appearance also a result of it or rather her genetics, is a mystery unsolved, since her granddad Augusto is rather short. She's small and short (i prefer to call that elegantly petite :D), and even when she grows up, her older brother could effortlessly put both of his elbows onto her head and would often badger her with jokes about her height (not in an evil way, just in a sibling way). Her facial features are more like Rocky's, but smoothed with Maura's subtlety, and I honestly think that in her human form she'd very much look like Audrey Hepburn. She definitely joins the beatniks movement in her young age and will find herself in journalism, starting simply from stenography. One day she could also possibly meet a nice young man, who happens to be the son of her dad's old acquaintance, Mordecai Heller, and her life journey will continue with a loving and caring partner who holds her hand.

[largebeeffriedrice]

Choose Your Deity Carefully - Chapter 1

You can also find it on AO3 if that tickles your fancy more than reading it here on Tumblr. -shrugs- 

Anyway. This is just Loki story I randomly decided to start writing. Enjoy?

~

CHAPTER 1: BAD LUCK PERSONIFIED

~

Ever since I could remember, I had always loved Saturdays. Most likely because it was the first free day you have when attending school. But even as I got older--- and had other commitments that warranted eating up my free time--- I had still always loved that day.

Until a few weeks ago.

My luck had radically changed and the worse of it always happened on the first day of the weekend.

I was constantly being called into work (even though we weren't open on Saturdays), whole baskets of laundry would disappear as soon as the washer or dryer would shut off at the laundry mat, drinks were spilled, food dropped and stepped on, dogs chasing me on my walk home, nice clothes ripping, and lots and lots of puddles but no rain.

While some of my bad luck would seep into other parts of the week, like Megan from accounting losing my paycheck two weeks in a row, Saturday still took the brunt of the force. It was honestly starting to really bum me out.

This particular day, I was finding myself trying to wave down a taxi with one shoe missing, half of my hair shorter than the rest, and fake blood smeared down my thighs. I don't even want to go into the details on how all of this happened. Let's just say I was never going to agree to attend a nephew's birthday party at Chucky Cheese's ever again.

After the fifth unoccupied taxi blew past me, I let myself slouch against the 'no littering' sign next to me and started to full on sob.

Dear Reader, I am not afraid to tell you that they were no-punches-pulled cries and wails that left my mouth at that moment.

What makeup I had been able to put on was most likely streaking and blotting across my cheeks as tears flowed unbidden from my eyes.

Pitifully, I heard myself say, "Why does this shit keep happening? Am I not praying enough or something? I will literally worship whatever deity I have to if it means my luck changes."

There was no way I could have known what was coming. If I had then I would never have uttered those words.

But I'm not capable of messing with the flow of time, like some people, so when a gentle warm breeze had suddenly brushed against me on that cool October day... I had let it trick me into relaxing and feeling hopeful.

Which is probably what made me so accepting of the small bit of luck that happened next.

The wind had soothed my emotional mind just enough that I had stood myself back up straight and attempted to wipe at the makeup melting down my face.

That was when a black Toyota Venza had pulled up in front of me and the window had rolled down quickly to reveal a tall, dark-haired man wearing a nondescript black hoodie.

"Excuse me, Madam," his baritone voice eased my frayed nerves immediately and I found myself moving closer to the car without a second thought to my safety, "I'm here to pick up Adelia Bergs?"

All I could do was blink owlishly at him. I hadn't ordered or called for a car. That was one of my other bad luck moments: I'd left my phone sitting in the bathroom in my apartment. At least I hope that's where I left it.

"That's my name but I think you must be looking for another Adelia Bergs since I didn't call for a car," I said while trying not to sound disappointed and also like I could cry again at any moment. Not that I really felt that way, what with his beautiful green eyes watching me carefully, but I just knew how easy it was to make me start balling.

He looked down at the console of the vehicle before picking up and reaching out his phone for me to see, "Is this your address? Because that's where I'm heading."

At that moment I was so alarmed and shocked to see my address that I completely failed to hear the snicker he released at my gasp and blindly missed his impish grin when I dumbly nodded my head.

"Yeah, that's so weird. I don't know how this happened but I guess you're taking me home."

Then I did the stupidest thing any woman has ever done. I stepped into the unmarked vehicle of a man who somehow knew my name and address even though I hadn't given it to him.

It was assuredly the worst my luck had ever been.

~

"Oh, it would have been way easier to turn down that street. I guess it's okay. This way just takes longer," he seemed not to notice my soft words as he continued to just drive along with traffic.

After hopping into the back of the wagon--- have you ever seen a Venza? it's a wagon--- I'd tried to secretively use the rearview mirror to clean up my face but ended up stopping when I caught the reflection of his piercing eyes squinting back at me.

"I think for the things we need to talk about... the long way is the best way."

Before he was even done with his sentence, his body had suddenly vanished in a quick glow of green light and reappeared next to me in the backseat.

I almost screamed. Truly, I impressed myself by not screeching loudly and not jumping forward into the driver seat to grab the steering wheel. I think it was because after he had reappeared, my mind had immediately noticed that the wheel was still moving.

Clearly, magic. As if I didn't already know that from the teleportation act but I just readily accepted it.

Why not? My day had been really strange and shitty up to this point anyway.

Plus, I lived in a world where a guy had been woken up from an ice block after 70 years and my second cousin (twice removed) went to a school for people with superpowers.

So, instead of panicking about magic, I freaked out about a strange man suddenly sitting close to me in the back seat of a vehicle.

"Hold your horses there, mortal. I'm not going to eat you," a devilish grin spread across his slim face, as he surprisingly grabbed my hands in a gentle grip to stop me from pulling at the door handle, "unless you really want me to."

"No, that's quite alright. No eating here tonight. Thank you," I tried to smile back, a nervous habit, but still struggled to pull my hands back to myself. It's not like I knew what to do with my hands once I got them free but that didn't stop me from wishing he'd release them.

"Okay. But just know that I grant more favors for sexual acts," his words brought my struggling to a halt and he finally let go of my wrists with a haunting chuckle.

"Favors? Sexual acts?"

"Well, you said you'd worship any deity that helped you, right?"

I just sat there silently. The fact that this guy somehow knew about me saying that led me to believe that there was really no need to answer him. Yet, he arched a dark eyebrow at me and waited until I finally nodded my head.

The motion made me feel a little dizzy and I murmured, "How can you help me?"

The tall man--- deity? god?--- huffed playfully and waved his hand close to me, causing gold sparks and mist to appear and swirl in the air.

The magic seemed to move and dance until a smaller, golden form of myself appeared. Tiny me peeped up and then quickly looked away in a bashful manner. Seemingly embarrassed about me looming over her.

"For every act of worship or offering that you make to me," tiny me turned to the man and curtsied low for him, "I will grant you a favor. Like a day of good luck in exchange for some pretty graffiti art, as an example. But the bigger the favor asked then the pricier the offering I will require."

The little gold version of myself jumped around the middle of the seat. It was honestly kind of hard to guess what kind of tasks she was acting out in order to please the deity, but the way his eyes gleefully scrunched up at the sight of her made me wish to know. Whether to actually perform them or avoid them I was unsure of.

"Am I allowed to refuse?"

My tinier version suddenly glowered up at me in shock, her hand coming up to cover her mouth before she slowly seemed to blow away into dust.

When I lifted my eyes from her disappearing particles I was a little unnerved to find the man staring blankly at me. His eyes were dark and his facial expression was tight but neutral.

That was apparently the wrong thing for me to say. Though if I could go back to even this moment, I'd have warned myself to stick with being apprehensive.

"You could," he finally, carefully said. "But where would be the fun in that?"

His face still gave nothing away and we rode in silence for a few more moments; with us just staring at one another.

Was I up for the task of actually actively worshipping someone? Not someone. Something?

What if he asked for a virgin sacrifice? I did not have the balls to do that. I couldn't even commit to "accidentally" tripping people; there was no way I was going to murder someone just to please an otherworldly being.

I let myself look out my window for roughly a minute before glancing back at him and asking, "Can I think about it?"

This seemed to renew him and a half smirk appeared while he reassured me, "Of course, of course. I'd think a couple days would be fair. Wouldn't you say?"

Not really sure why he asked if that was fair since he gave me no time to answer. My hand was suddenly being firmly grasped in his and bobbed up and down in a handshake.

"I will see you later then, darling," the dark-haired deity made to open the car door, even though the vehicle was still moving, and I quickly yelped and tried to reach out for him.

My fingers stopped just an inch away from his hoodie and I stared unblinkingly at him. He was no longer retreating from the car but instead was fixing me with a half amused, half anxious glare. I couldn't convince my body to move and had to helplessly watch as he brought his hand up to press his fingertips against mine.

"It's best to not touch me without my permission. I'd hate to take it the wrong way."

Was the wrong way considered sexual or violent? That was all my mind could come up with for what he was implying. Which stung a little since truly I had reached out to try and help him NOT end up as roadkill.

Thankfully, I found that I was at least allowed to talk, "How will I contact you to let you know if I made up my mind?"

His fingertips retreated and his voice dropped lower than before as he said, "Perform your first act of worship, mortal."

I fell into the seat as my body suddenly moved and finished reaching out to him. But my hand came up empty and I sprung back up to look around. Now the backseat was void of anything but myself.

"Sweetheart, we're here," a cheery feminine voice from the front seat drawled at me and I whipped my head around to the source.

In the driver's seat sat a younger woman, probably just starting college, turned in the seat looking back at me. Her brown eyes gazed over my half leaning pose and her face scrunched up in confusion as she asked, "Did my driving knock you around back there?"

"No, no," I quickly assured her while patting my pockets for my wallet. I could feel every ounce of blood drain from my face when every pocket came up surprisingly walletless.

The only recovery I could think of was, "I was just looking to see if my wallet had fallen out back here. I can't seem to find it anywhere which makes me think I left it at the party. I'm not sure how I'm going to pay you."

"Wow, that sucks, hon! Maybe you should try and call a friend to look for it? But at least someone already paid for this ride for you."

Owlish blinking habits returned.

"The ride was paid for. By who?"

She scrambled to grab her phone from its mount on the dashboard and hurriedly brought it to her face. She typed and swiped before saying, "It failed to put the last name on here. But the first name is Loki."

"What?"

I was stuck between feeling confused and admittedly scared, while she seemed to find it funny.

"I guess someone pranked you."

Oh, yes, dear driver. I was in for a very long and embarrassing prank.

[wo-the-wolf]

The Actor and The Pacifist III (Finale)

Inspired by user FlamingFoxNinja’s prompt of what would happen if Humans were the only ones capable of acting, lying, and or hiding emotions. To those in my DMs and comments, thank you for being involved! Enjoy!  ------------------------------------------------------------------------------------ Derrick tapped his foot, waiting with a fast beating heart, rubbing his hands together and grumbling, “Can’t fight them all. . . Can’t protect everyone, but we can get away easy! But still,” he sighed and rubbed his eyes before leaning on a wall. “Ow!” He jumped as an exposed wire zapped him. “Stupid piece of junk!” He shouted. When the stage was set and the lights met their lead, he became alive and danced like water among the sea of anxiety and fear that plagued all actors and liars. It was the calm before the storm that bothered most, even the best.

“Calm down, I’ve got it,” Emma rolled her eyes and began to fix the problem, funneling the wires back into place and tying their circuits together. “Years of building droids and star ships comes in handy. . . You should’ve tried to learn some mechanical knowledge.” 

“Yes, yes, and you should’ve learned how to properly dance at a club if you wanted to catch that waitress’s attention,” he sighed and put his hands up, despite her giving no response or sign that his comment bothered her. “No, no . . . I shouldn’t say that. . . I’m just nervous is all. Bat’Ga pirates are the reason a lot of my old friends aren’t with us anymore. Their raids on the outer rim took many lives. . . Lives important to me.” He rolled his shoulders and looked out the sealed airlock as the first boarding party connected. “Here they are. . . Time to shine.” 

“Hope you know what you’re doing.” Emma nodded proudly at her work of fixing the panel without any trouble. “If this goes South,” she stopped herself. Should she say she had rigged an escape pod to wait for a code she had created a few minutes ago? No, perhaps that would only provide a safety net, a net that always sowed the seeds of doubt. “Well, I’m sure we can be a well talked about kill on their end.”

“You will kill if needed?” He asked. 

She froze and looked down, “No. . . I will not kill. . . But I can at least hurt.” Even saying it broke her heart. She did not want to do this if she could avoid it. Derrick let a small smile come through, though it was still tainted by a haunting call, triggered by the sound of metal tearing into the airlock. The ship rocked back and forth as the boarding parties began to make their way aboard. “Do me a favor,” he said without looking to Emma. “Don’t flinch.” The pirates scrambled in but after the first few had lined up their shots, they paused. The sight of a behemoth and a small human caught them off guard, as they expected at least some level of security from a merchant vessel. “Greetings my friends! I see you must be lost, allow me to inform you that while you’re welcomed to stay for a short visit, you will be asked to leave within the span of ten Terran minutes. 

“Wha?” One of the Bat’Ga’s raised it’s head up in confusion. “Whut’s ‘is now? A little ape like you is gonna tell us ‘at we need ta scram?” The creature snorted as one of it’s alien companions looked on with a distorted laugh. 

“Yes,” Derrick stated without fear in his voice. “You clearly have no idea what you are doing here my simple minded friend.” Derrick took a few steps forward, unwavering as the guns were trained on him. Emma instinctively stood up straight and stomped one leg forward. Despite her aversion to violence, and fear of a fight, she played along for the first time willingly. 

“Oh ‘sa so?” The Bat’Ga marched forward, standing over Derrick at at least 6′0 flat. “’nd whut are yu gonna do to stop us? I’m the Boss’s favorite captain! You should be grateful I’m even looking at you!” The creature snarled and looked as though Derrick had insulted it’s family lineage. However something made him step back ever so slightly. His eyes. Derrick’s eyes were cold, lifeless, and filled with the horrors of war. They were his muse, his magnum opus to obtaining the perfect figure of intimidation. To these pirates there stood a soldier of experience in front of them. To Derrick, his mind flashed a thousand battles and a million more deaths. Allies that pleaded the desire to go home as their final moments were spent clawing the air in his arms. Friends that past without goodbyes. Even enemies that had no choice but to fight a war that swallowed them whole. The stage was his place to tell a story, but one he had not yet discovered how to finish. 

“Get your boss here, child,” Derrick’s voice sent shivers down the spine of lesser creatures. “Or pay the price.” 

“As if, you don’t threaten me! I’m the boss here! The Boss loves me!” He brought up the bayonet on his weapon and charged it down, but Derrick merely side stepped out of the way. It was not that he was only attempting to dodge, but making room. Emma slashed with claws that shot from bracers on her armored wrists, mechanical blades that penetrated and gripped the creatures shoulder, tearing it upwards before she kicked him away into a wall. The Bat’Ga clawed away at it’s arm, howling in pain before very much alive. 

“Let this be a warning!” Derrick shouted, jumping on the opportunity. “Your boss steps in to have a little chat, or you all have your throats torn out by Sa’tara. . . The Butcher of the Bol’gaia systems!” The pirates looked confused. They had never heard of this name, but they weren’t about to argue with someone whose companion had so easily disarmed their leader. 

“Y-Yeah, I’ll get em!” a small amphibious alien like creature stammered before heading towards the farthest boarding pod that was just now disembarking. 

‘All according to plan . . . All according to plan,’ Derrick thought to himself as he he cleared his throat. The Largest Bat’Ga he had seen in quite some time stepped forward, towering at at least 7 and a half feet, dragging the pirate that had fetched him by the neck. ‘Oh . . . This will be fun,’ Derrick took a quick breathe as he saw this albino Bat’Ga had already killed the pirate that had fetched him. 

“So what in every damned galaxy is this I hear? Someone calls to ME,” The Bat’Ga slammed the pirate corpse on the ground and howled in anger, scaring even some of his own men. “WHO DARES TO FETCH ME? VENZA AL’VIKERA!” He bellowed his name. “I slaughter fleets, I burn colonies, I raid Citadel space! I AM NOT SOME SLAVE TO BE FETCHED!” 

“Do you slaughter planets?” Derrick questioned, looking unimpressed. 

“What did you say? Human?” Venza stomped forward and glared down at Derrick. “You dare try to declare such glory in my presence? A runt like you?” he spat at Derrick’s feet. 

“No my friend, not me, but my master here,” he gestured towards Emma with an outstretched hand, daring not to look at her and keeping his eyes on Venza. Emma raised her brow beneath her helmet in confusion. His master? Yet he continued and she remained a statue of imposing terror. “My Master here is Sa’tara . . . The infamous butcher of the Bol’gaia systems!” He proudly proclaimed. 

“Never heard of him,” Venza spat. 

“Her, and that is because no one but a few ever leave to tell the tale of the Demonic force that scours the outer rim, hunting for military worlds to burn and slaughter!” He began to pace around Venza to the crew, leaving the beast to stare at someone his own size, but also leaving Emma quite uncomfortable. She could stare this beast down, but knowing the Bat’Ga she feared she may have to kill again. 

“Tell me my friends,” Derrick continued as he examined the pirate crew. “How many of you have ever heard of the planet Rygo? Balthazar? Mar’cuse Fenix prime? Cubone? Ricky’Morty IV, or even Je-Di-Sky?” He pulled names out of his ass. But it was somehow working, to some degree. 

The pirates were bewildered, looking at him with confusion and then whispering among themselves. “Uh. . . Never?” One of the Bat’Ga finally shrugged. 

“So if we’ve never ‘eard of em . . . How’s we know they’s real?” Another Bat’Ga scratched his chin and looked hopelessly lost. 

“Perhaps a better planet then . . . Anyone know of the planet Zeras?” Now this name caused a few to perk up in surprise. “I see a few lights . . . You!” He pointed a finger to one of the other aliens in the back. 

“Sker’ja kwo?” The creature pointed to itself. 

“Yes you, squid, you have heard of this planet?” The creature looked around nervously then nodded. “Twas a flourishing garden world, packed to the brim with a strong military. Yet it was burned to the ground by some unknown force. . . Would anyone like to take a guess as to who that force was?” The squid like creature looked around with greater haste as his crew mates looked at him. 

“Well? Go on Skuel! Tell us! Was it this human’s master?” One of the pirates shoved the squid like creature. Some of the crew joined in, harassing the creature to speak. 

The creature looked terrified, and pointed nervously at Emma. “So Squids and Octopus really are that smart,” Derrick chuckled. “Yes, twas my master, Sa’tara!” He gestured towards her as she stood up straighter. “She who has burned a thousand worlds and will burn a thousand more. Not for fame nor infamy, but to satisfy the Demon’s she holds, to satisfy her need to kill!” He proclaimed this with pride. “When she took me as a servant, she made me watch as my world was burned and all I loved was destroyed. . . But spared me solely so I might tell the galaxy of her tale.” Some of the pirates looked scared now. 

“Boss, I don’t wanna raid someone who burns planets.” One of the pirates said. 

“SILENCE WORMS!” Venza barked at his subordinate. 

“Hold your tongue,” Emma stated. “They have ever right to fear. This crew here are my slaves.” She growled. “You will not harm them. Not as long as they are my property.” 

“YES!” Derrick clapped, “My master is wise indeed! Who here dares to attack her stock!” 

“Boss!” One of the pirates shouted. 

“What now?!” Venza barked in angry. 

“I’ve heard of her. . . I’ve heard of her,” one of the pirates shook and swallowed. “My friend, was there on one of those worlds, and said he saw a figure clad in full power armor, said they slaughtered an entire world, then went into a rage because there wasn’t enough they said! Not enough!” The pirate backed up and looked around in a panic, “I ain’t staying around! I’m not dying to that if it’s who they say it is!” The pirate fled, running back to one of the boarding ships. 

“Yes! Flee you fools! Flee at the might of my master!” Derrick stated with a hearty laugh. Some of the other pirates began to flee, seeing their comrades run, they to turned to escape. Save for four Bat’Ga including Venza. 

“I don’t believe you,” He stated as he turned and stomped towards Emma. “I don’t believe a single word of it!” 

“You don’t have to,” Derrick whispered. 

“So it is a li-” Silence. Venza struggled to breathe, and felt a warm sensation run down his neck. 

“Perhaps,” Derrick drew his pistol and fired four shots, fanning the hammer on his crude blaster pistol he had stowed under his shirt. A bullet for ever pirate skull that stayed behind, and a knife in the back of Venza’s throat. “But who can live to tell the tale?” He muttered darkly. 

“You . . . You . . . Murder. . . Without honor,” Venza croaked before falling to his knees and glaring up at Derrick. 

“Honor. . . Is a dying concept,” Derrick pointed his gun at Venza’s head. “A concept that damned my wife. . . And now you,” he pulled the trigger. 

Emma was saddened, but knew it was necessary. “We should inform the Captain,” she stated as the boarding ships began to disembark and flee. “They. . . Will be happy to know we have handled the problem.” She dared not look at Venza. The violence . . . It made her sick, even despite knowing it was needed to survive this encounter. 

“Yes. . . You do the honors, I,” Derrick stared down at the creature before him, “I must . . . Take a moment.” He was saddened. . . War infected soldiers, and thus never left them alone even after years had passed. Despite all of Derrick’s lies, it was still true for him, as much as it was true for Emma and her distaste for the hunger for violence she craved. 

“I will, take your time,” Emma nodded before hesitating. “You did what you had to,” she told him. He had no words for once, only a small smile. With that she left him to his own devices.  ---------------------------------------------------------------------------- HEY YOU! Yeah you! Got any prompts you want me to send this dynamic duo on? Or with new characters? Comment them below or our to bigger space blogs. I always watch them and credit your prompts if I see one I like. Hope you enjoyed this! Expect more from Emma and Derrick, With future stories alternating between who is the lead character in what issues they face. Thank you, and have a great night! 

[vizzy95]

A 32-year-old physiotherapist, Rachael Godwin, has recounted how her boyfriend, an online fraudster popularly called ‘yahoo boys’ almost used her pants for money ritual.

The lady who works at the National Orthopedic Hospital, Yaba, alleged that her boyfriend, one Olumide, in connivance with his partner-in-crime forced her to wear the pants, which he used for the ritual.

The lady who narrated her experience to newsmen at the police command headquarters, Ikeja, yesterday said she met and fell in love with the suspect in January 2018.

According to her:

“I met Olumide in a BRT bus going from Ikorodu to Ikeja. On the day, he directed me on how to get to the police headquarters during which we exchanged contact. We kept in touch for a while and he later told me he had Gonorrhea disease, which I treated him.

“We became close and then lovers. I guess he must have hypnotized me such that I really don’t know what I was doing then. I gave him my entire savings. He even lodged in a hotel for four months and I paid a bill of N185,000 at Ketu Kosofe.

“He later took me to his father at Ikosi. They live in a very unhealthy environment, which I pitied them and offered to help. I rented a house for myself in November 2018 and he visited me in the house that same month. On December 12, when he visited me, he said he wanted to buy a Venza, I asked him how much and when he googled it, he said it was N11.8 million. I asked him how would he raise the money and he said we should open a joint account. I took my house document to get a loan and even promised to gather all I had from my cooperative bank account.

“My trouble started on December 14, 2018, when he came to my house and gave me a pant to wear. I told him that I can’t wear the pant because I was not comfortable. He went to call one of my neighbour named Helen who helped him to force me to wear the pants. After which I ran mad and was taken to my mother’s house. They took me to Ibadan for treatment and I became better.

“I did not suspect him then. I kept relating with him. On December 31, I went to a church for Thanksgiving. I was given some prayers to follow up every midnight. He came back to me and was still living with me. While I was praying in January, Olumide started shouting, stop praying they have wired the money, it is only $2,000 from Alaska in USA.”

Confessing, Olumide said that he was shocked to discover that the $2,000 only amounted to N750,000. He alleged that he gave Helen N300,000 and gave another man some money.

GISTS

[rudnitskaia]

White Chrysanths for the Swallow

Rocky was waiting for her at the table at the Little Daisy, but this time he was especially eager. Even Ivy had stopped teasing him about the way he lighted up and hummed to himself as he waited for Mau to show up at the door of the café, and just smiled, refilling his coffee whenever it ran out. He almost daydreamed of handing Maura two tickets to tomorrow's musical: of her eyes sparkling, of her taking his hand and telling him he was the best in the world.

But time passed, and Mau wasn't coming.

In those few hours, Rocky had replayed the fantasy in his head hundreds of times, changing the lines and the scenery. At first, imaginary Maura was beaming with happiness, calling him affectionate names, melting in his arms like all those heroines on the stage of a musical theater in the arms of their beloved ones, but every time the fantasy became darker and darker. More disturbing. Mau no longer rejoiced, no longer smiled. Her bright lively figure was becoming more and more dim, and she more often sighed, frowned, did not accept the gift. She asked him to return the tickets, scolded him for wasting his money carelessly, told him some news, one worse than the other, and finally said she didn’t want to see him again. Never again.

It was getting unbearable to sit still, and Rocky abruptly moved away from the table, threw on his coat, and headed for the exit. Maybe a walk would clear his head a little…

“Miss Pepper, I have a very urgent task to attend to. If she shows up on the doorstep, don't let her out of here on any pretext. Lock the doors, board up the windows, show her every fashion magazine you can find, but don't let her leave here until I get back. I'm counting on your wit and exceptional charm.”

The way he looked intently into Ivy's eyes before he left looked almost threatening. He wasn't even aware of the desperation hiding behind that look. But Ivy saw it.

“Don't worry, I'm an expert at this,” she winked at him encouragingly.

The cold air blew across Rocky's face, and he shivered, pulling his scarf over his nose, the same funny skewed scarf Mau had knitted for him last Christmas. Sometimes, like now, Rocky thought he could still smell on it the very same scent of coffee and pastries that wafted from the Venza family's eatery. It didn't help distract him, though. Quite the opposite. After walking a few blocks in an attempt to escape his doubts, he spotted a small flower shop — Rocky's imagination immediately conjured up a lovely picture of Maura cradling a fresh spring bouquet on this cold, cloudy evening and he didn't notice himself stepping over the store’s doorstep. The frail old woman behind the counter put aside the newspaper and immediately chirped, offering him different flowers, and finally convinced him to take a few white chrysanthemums. She tied the flowers with a delicate pink ribbon and also wrapped them tightly in the newspaper she had read before.

“They mustn't be overfrozen. Or they won't last long,” she explained sternly.

Rocky walked back much more briskly. He was warmed by the thought that now he would be able to give Mau not one surprise, but two. Hiding the bouquet from a gust of cold wind, Rocky lowered his gaze to it and pressed the flowers closer to himself… when suddenly, out of the corner of his eye, he noticed the headline of one of the newspaper articles.

“Shootout at the small Italian eatery Casa di Rondine shocked the residents… a bloody showdown in the neighborhood… occurred on the night… police identified the bodies of two…”

Rocky couldn't remember how he reached the familiar alleyway. How he threw the bouquet to the ground, swung over the barrier tape, and rushed to the entrance — a gaping hole instead of a small blue door. Shards of glass littered the floor, the formerly cozy, cramped hall was a real mess, the furniture was riddled with gunshots. Even the old tabletop radio was now on the floor, shattered to pieces.

“Stop right there!” a panting policeman grabbed him by the scruff of the neck. “What the hell are you doing breaking into a crime scene?”

“I… uh…” in his panic Rocky couldn't think straight, but nonetheless he blurted out: “I'm from a newspaper. Wanted to visit the crime scene myself.”

“A lousy reporter you are, then. Your buddies sniffed everything around here a long time ago.”

“I was just hired today and immediately assigned to this very intriguing case. So…”

“There's nothing intriguing about it. This Bianchi guy…”

“Who?”

“The renter, Augusto Bianchi, if that's his real name at all, apparently had a huge debt to pay someone. And for that, he got pinned down. There was a scuffle in the night, at least four assailants. The two guys we found here have a couple priors, but they're not in a condition to tell us who hired them. The amount of such cold cases we have…” the man hummed and passed his hand above his head. “We've already explained it all to your fellow scribblers this morning. And I highly doubt the landlord would want to tell the same story tenth times over to another newspaper weasel. The only thing he's interested in right now is getting money from the insurance company.”

“And the girl?”

“What girl?”

“The waitress. Who worked here. What about her?”

“Considering how much blood there is, they're probably both either in a ditch, scattered in pieces, or feeding fishes somewhere at the bottom of the Mississippi… both father and daughter, if you meant her,” boredly remarked the other officer, who had quietly approached them, lighting a cigarette. “There's nothing for you to do here, boy. Henry's right — there's absolutely nothing of interest in this case. People might have chattered about it in the morning, but the very next day they'll forget all about it. Go home, don't add to our workload. And quit the paper that sent you here. If your editor doesn't realize that news like this must be broken in the heat of the moment, believe me, their business will burn out faster than a short match.”

Rocky tried to get anything else out of them, at least a little bit, to look in the kitchen of the eatery, to slip upstairs to Mau’s and Augusto's apartment, but the policemen were adamant. On unsteady legs he made it to the nearest bench and collapsed on it, staring blankly into the dark November sky. He could have screamed, could have destroyed everything around him on a single painful impulse, but the emptiness that engulfed him was far more frightening.

His silence was more frightening.

Years would pass. Would flow, as before, from night to night. The world won’t notice his loss. The world won't notice any loss at all. In the place of his beloved swallow house, other birds will build a nest. Freckle and Ivy will eventually stop opening that wound with their questions. And one day, perhaps, he will stop gazing into the crowd, hoping to find among the unfamiliar faces the features dear to his heart, and stop flinching when he hears someone say amore mio. He knows how it happens — it was not the first time. All he has to do is smile and everything will work out. It'll wear off, getting back to the way it was. One day.

But the bouquet of chrysanths will still remain rotting on the cold ground.