#how she managed it when they sold out in 20 seconds is a mystery and a miracle tbh

[herewegobebe]

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[trashiewrites]

The Clueless Bachelor and Bachelorette

(Bruno Bucciarati x Reader)

An: hey everyone, I know this is very different content then CoD but I do want to extend my reaches to other fandoms! I'll still be writing CoD but I'll also reach to maybe other games and anime. I hope yal all enjoy my first published Jojo Fic.

There a lot of responsibility when being a Capo for Passione. Taking orders from the boss, controlling a specific area. The last thing Bruno expected when to deal with constant female attention.

Ahh yes, at the prime age of 20. Perfect age for once to start looking for a partner. Undoubtedly, upon the bachelor's list was his truly, Bucciarati. He really couldn't deny that he's attractive but to say he comes with perks was an understatement. If one was to look at the list it would be quite easy to see that.

Walking down the busy streets of Naples with Girno was even a chore. Next thing a group of young women will be walking down the street "Bucciarati!" To look over at a groupie and see the one that (in his opinion) wasn't very attractive waving at him. He wishes he could ignore all of it, but he has a reputation to keep.

"Girls really have been after you huh Bucciarati?" Bruno look back to the newbie, his brow frowned in the slightest hint of annoyance.

"Tell me about it Giorno... I don't know what happened but I've been getting called at by women all the time now." In the distance again, hearing his name be called. This time he wasn't even bothered to look, he just waved. "I mean at first the attention was nice but I can barely go outside without a woman trying to seduce me."

"I feel that, the curse of being pretty I guess..." Giorno shrugged, Bruno could only sigh. "Let's head back to the others, at least give you a break from outside."

"That sounds like a splendid idea."

As the two walked in the the cafe the gang usually hangs, they enter to see the three huddled. Huddled against a magazine. "Wow, they really have a lot to say about Bucciarati!" Narancia moved his head closer to the book.

"Hey watch it! I'm trying to read too!" Mista pushed Narancia's head away.

"What are you all reading?"

"Oh hey, boss?" Mista closes the magazine and pulls it behind him.

"Mista! What the hell! I was reading it!" Narancia pulled on Mista's arm, getting up and personal.

"Like hell you are! You probably can barely read dumbass!" Abbacchio sighed as the two were two seconds away to pulling out the stands.

"To answer you Bucciarati, they're reading that new Local Bachelors and Bachelorette magazine."

"And I'm in it?" Bruno whispered to himself, "hand it over you two!" Mista seemed hesitant, it couldn't be that bad right? "Now, Mista" sticky fingers began to appear from over Bucciarati's shoulder. He shoved it into Bruno's hands and stormed off elsewhere. Bruno felt bad but was too intrigued by this magazine mystery to pursue it.

He gently flipped to the pages to reach the number 1 bachelor and "This is worse then I thought..." Giorno peered in, looking from the side. He noticed how much was written exactly. And well the pics were certainly something.

"Bucciarati, do you remember taking those photos? How did they get ahold of them?" The be frank, Bruno was busy reading the almost a thirst essay about himself to even notice the picture.

Giving the pictures a glance he was surprised he recognized them.

"I remember these..."

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Sunlight shined softly down the busy Italian streets. Tourist and locals alike enjoying the beauty of the day. Bucciarati took a sip from his glass, "nothing better then a cold glass of wine on a day like this. " he would get the occasional hello from locals he knew as well as glances by curious tourists.

One person, in particular, came up to him. A young women, maybe around her late 20's with a camera around her neck. "Signore, if I may ask. May I take a few photos of you? I'm an artist and I often take pictures of things that inspire me!" To any human being the request would be rather offputting. Indeed it was, at least to Bruno. But a normal person would also decline the offer. Bucciarati didn't see the harm of a few photos, if anything he'd call himself quite photogenic despite his semi-cold demeanor. Plus to deprive an artist of inspiration didn't sit right with him; so he agreed.

~~~~~~~~~

"That artist lied... or she sold my pictures. Either or isn't good, but damn..." Bruno skimmed through the pages. Person after person, some of them he even knew. He stopped on one page and well maybe call it fate but it was the page of the number 1 Bachelorette. Giorno auditable gasped as the sight.

"She's very beautiful... I see why they placed so highly..." Mista and Narancia came from the other side taking peaks.

"Yo, you're right Giorno! She is really beautiful. Father owns a successful flower shop too!" Narancia's cheeks turned slightly red. Mista closed his eyes, humming to himself as if he was fantasizing about something.

"Girl has looks, money, and property. She's a guy's dream girl honestly!" Bruno slammed the magazine closed, proceeding to roll it up. Then uses Sticky Fingers to smack him to the ground. "HEY! WHAT WAS THAT FOR!?"

"How dare you think like that Mista. Loving someone for their 'perks'..." Bucciarati stared down upon Mista, disappointment, and guilt filling Mista's soul.

Bruno just took the magazine and left. He needed time to make sense of all of it... "geeze Mista... nice to know who you really are!" Giorno snickered as he took a seat at a near by table.

"Guys, I wasn't talking of myself!!! Come on, I would never!"

~~~~~

Bruno wondered the town, just processing it all. All this attention wasn't out of the kindness of people's hearts. It was some lousy list that said he had perks... To now have to wonder if he was being used was a terrifying thought.

"Please, let me go... I don't want this at all!" Bruno was returning to reality. Overhearing 2 people talking in the alleyways.

"Oh come on beautiful, I've got a lot to offer!"

"I'm sure you do, but I am not wanting a relationship! Please for away! I don't even know you!" Her hands try to wiggle free but she was what Bruno could assume was pinned.

"Look missy, think about your answer real carefully. If you don't date me ill-"

"You'll what?" Bruno stood firmly at the alley entrance. The man turned to see him, catching a glimpse of the girl as well. (H/c) hair laced with small flowers, (s/t) skin, as well of (e/c) eyes.

"Its none of your business buddy! So how about you leave me and my girlfriend alone!" Bruno continued to walk closer, his expression as blank as he could manage. "H-Hey! I said stay back!"

"You know I find it amusing when scum like you exist in this world. The least you can do is accept the girl has no feelings for you."

"Like you know shit pal!"

"I heard it all, the entire conversation. As well, the fear upon her face right now speaks wonders." Bruno's steps were heavy, each one making a distinct clack.

"I said stay back you bastard!!" He dragged the poor girl by the hair restraining her arms. Sliding a knife from his own pocket, placing it above her throat.

"Sticky Fingers!" The girl closed her eyes as the blue figure hit the man square in the face. Knocking him down the alley. The guy cowards back, confused beyond belief "next time don't try to force yourself upon a harmless girl. Or do I need to beat the lesson into you?"

"No! No no no! I'm sorry I'm sorry! Please spare me!!"

"Then run." The man ran off in a rush, terror riddled his face as the bruises started to solidify. The screams echoed as he ran into the darkness. Bruno turned back the the girl, she stood against the wall paralyzed from fear. "Hey, are you okay? Did he hurt you?" She shook her head. Taking a good look the most harm was some scratches and maybe a few bruises, nothing life-threatening. Bruno tilted his head, she looked familiar.

"Uh.. mister, thank you for your help. I was really scared that guy was gonna hurt me." She clutched to her basket filled with different flowers. She picked out a small white lily from the batch, extending it to him. "Men back and forth have been cat-calling me all day. It's quite overwhelming." Her smile showed a sparkle of pure innocence. Bruno clutched his first, glancing at the magazine he held. It struck him, it was her, the flower shop's daughter.

"I believe I can show you why this is happening. Come with me and we can tend your wounds as well." The girl looked up in admiration. A shy smile as well as heated cheeks. She took his hand as a quiet acceptance. "Pardon my manners, I'm Bruno Bucciarati. It's my pleasure miss?"

"(L/n), (y/n) (l/n). I owe you my life, Signore."

AN: I might make a part 2... not sure

[2want2believe]

Winchester Mystery House

Sarah Lockwood Winchester, née Pardee, was born in New Haven, CT in 1839. In her Earthly years, she amassed a shit ton of wealth following the death of her husband, William Wirt Winchester, and even managed to nab a 50% holding in his company, Winchester Repeating Arms Company, a popular manufacturer of repeater rifles. 

Anyway, the happy couple were married in 1862. And shortly thereafter they had tried to procreate, but their only daughter, Annie, had died ten days after birth of marasmus, a severe form of malnutrition that is typically seen in children with severe bouts of diarrhea. Remember, in the 1800s something as simple as diarrhea could have wiped you from the mortal realm. 

But let’s jump ahead to March of 1881, when William Wirt Winchester passed way from a bout with tuberculosis, leaving our girl Sarah with a fortune of $20 million (roughly $520 million in 2021 dollars). Plus, her holding in the Winchester Repeating Arms Company created an income of $1,000 a day, which is nearly $26,000 in current cash. 

So, how did Winchester spend her fortune? Did she purchase fur coats? Exotic animals? Fancy bling-bling? No, instead she commissioned the construction of a Queen Anne Style Victorian mansion in San Jose, CA that is now known as the Winchester Mystery House. 

Legend has it, the grief-stricken widow had visited a Boston-based medium, who claims to have spoken to her late husband who spiritually advised her to sell their property in New Haven and head out west to endlessly build a home for herself and the spirits of those who were killed by the hands of Winchester Rifles. According to this otherworldly advice, this would be the only way to appease the spirits who were ripped from this world way too early by Winchester’s riles. 

In 1884, she ended up in San Jose, California where Sarah had come across an unfinished farmhouse and used this land to complete her masterpiece. Winchester ordered constant “around-the-clock” construction of new rooms, stairways to nowhere, hidden rooms, trap doors, secret passage ways, a skylight in the floor, spider-web windows, doors that open to blank walls, a door on the second floor that opens to a drop, and even glass windows designed by Louis Comfort Tiffany, of Tiffany & Company fame. 

Carpenters worked on the house all day and all night, hammering away with seemingly no endgame in sight. Word on the street is that when news of Sarah’s death caught attention of the working crew on shift the morning of September 5, 1922, they immediately quit, leaving their half-eaten sandwiches and half-hammered nails sticking out of the walls. 

At one point, the home was seven stories tall, but a 1906 earthquake had toppled some of the mansion, resulting in the current layout, which now stands at 4 stories. The rooms that were damaged by the quake were never repaired and just simply boarded off. 

Facts about the Winchester Mystery House:

There are roughly 161 rooms

There are about 40 bedrooms (Winchester would sleep in a different room each night to confuse spirits)

Despite numerous bathrooms, there was only one single working toilet for Winchester (just like the bedroom switching, other bathrooms were decoys to confuse the spirits)

The house is known for its stained glass windows and other fancy adornments

As previously mentioned, Winchester utilized the labyrinth-like design intentionally to confuse the spirits of her whereabouts. However, circulating rumors suggest that Sarah Winchester left behind clues that she may have been a member of a secret society. The house is riddled with mysterious symbols that many suggest point to secrets that have yet to be solved. It seems that Winchester was obsessed with the number 13. Many of the windows have 13 panes, many stairwells contain 13 steps, and some rooms even have 13 windows. Plus, her last will and testament contained 13 parts.

Or, perhaps, Sarah may have just become overrun with grief and descended into undiagnosed madness. Following her husband’s death and sojourn to San Jose, she became a well-known recluse who very rarely left the house. Her only contact with others included hired servants who lived on the third floor, her many contractors, and her niece. Winchester typically denied entrance to anyone who showed up at the front door, including Teddy Roosevelt. 

She even had a séance room which she used to communicate with the dead. She insisted to be the only person to enter this room. Two years following her death, legendary escape artist Harry Houdini visited the mansion to conduct a midnight séance. It’s said that Houdini held the séance in a room now known as the Witch’s Cap, which he believed may have been the same room Winchester used. The Witch’s Cap was an unfinished room located in the south wing that had a cone-shaped ceiling that sort of resembled the shape of a witch’s cap. 

Anyway, Houdini was a huge skeptic of the spiritualism movement that arose in the years following the Civil War. It’s said that many people, seemingly mostly women, became intoxicated with the idea that they could communicate with their dead husband, child, etc. Post-Civil War America was a hotbed for this movement due to families wanting to communicate with those who were killed in action. The movement continued to be popular well into the 20th century. 

Since Houdini had believed the spiritualism movement to be hogwash, he became very active in disproving mediums, clairvoyants, and other individuals who claimed to have precognitive abilities. When the story of angry spirits roaming the halls of Winchester Manor caught Houdini’s attention, he went to the Winchester Mansion to disprove this belief. Following the séance, Houdini remained very mum on the details about what he had experienced, leading many to believe that he did in fact contact the dead. 

Following Sarah Winchester’s death, appraisers deemed the mansion to be  “worthless” due to damage from the 1906 earthquake, its unfinished design, and elaborate layout. Despite this, the house was sold at auction to an investor for $135,000, who then began conducting tours of the mansion about five months following Winchester’s death. 

Today, you can still tour the mansion. Over the years, tour guides have cited that the mansion’s third story appears to be the most haunted, which is where a number of the hired servants had resided. Doors can often be heard opening and closing whenever there does not seem to be any other people around. 

Was Sarah Lockwood Winchester visited by the restless spirits who died at the hands of her late husband’s rifles? Was Harry Houdini the key to solving this mystery? Or, was this all hogwash? The world may never know. 

[linnea-quinn]

[ EVERYTHING YOU EVER WANTED TO KNOW ABOUT VEELA ]

An Informative Research Document Compiled by The Librarian’s Consortium of Higher Magical Theory, Narrative Preservation, & Knowledge Procurement

Shelved in UK Catalogue: Magical Species: Beings: Veela

Edited by: Sr. Librn. Benjamin Arnold, Intake Officer, European Division {editor’s notations in braces}

In Muggle Folklore

Referred to colloquially as samodiva or samovila in the Veelan country of origin, Bulgaria, the Muggles’ perception of the Veelan race has been fraught with misconception. Locally equated with mythology surrounding fae, forest spirits, and wood nymphs, a brief compilation of relevant Muggle beliefs about Veela is as follows:

The name samodiva is formed by combining two separate words, ‘samo’ and ‘diva’. The former means ‘alone’, whilst the latter ‘wild’, or ‘divine’, hence the name literally means ‘wild alone’. The first part of the creature’s name signifies its avoidance of human beings, whereas the second indicates her wild or divine nature. {In truth, the Veelan race are highly secretive in what they share about their kind with magical and Muggle communities alike.}

The samodivi are always described as extremely beautiful women who never age. {Not quite factual; see sec. below: “Lifespan” for facts regarding Veelan aging.} They have long, blonde hair and bright blue eyes. Their attire consists of a long white gown made of moonbeams. Other legends depict them as ethereal maidens with long, loose hair, and in some cases, wings, typically dressed in free-flowing, feathered white gowns, which give them the power of flight. {Perhaps a historical perception of the Veelan Harpy form.}

Stories about the samodivi often portray them as being harmful towards human beings. Although these creatures enjoy dancing, especially when accompanied by the music of a kaval or shepherd’s pipe, they often either seduce or kidnap a shepherd to obtain that music. If an unfortunate human stumbles on the samodivi whilst they are dancing, he would be enticed to join them. The human, not being able to keep up with their pace, would die of exhaustion. Beginning at midnight and finishing at dawn, their dance symbolized the raw energy of both nature and the supernatural world. {No truth to the menacing intent behind this myth, but the Veela’s Dance has been known to evoke a trancelike response in some humans; see section below: “Active Abilities.” Also calls to mind the ritualistic birthing practices of Veela; see section below: “Veelan Conception & Birth”}

Some legends depict samodivas with an affinity for fire. They have the power to bring about drought, burn a farmer's crops, or make cattle die of high fever. It is said that, when angered, a samodiva can change her appearance and turn into a monstrous bird, capable of throwing fire at her enemies. {Another early reference to the Harpy form.}

They are usually hostile and dangerous to people. Men who gaze upon a samodiva fall instantly in love or in lust. Sometimes a samodiva would seduce a person, commonly a shepherd or a trespasser in her forest, and take them for her lover. However, in doing so, she would take all of their life energy. The person would then become obsessed with the samodiva and chase her relentlessly, unable to think of anything else. The samodiva, fueled by the energy stolen from her admirer, would then proceed to torture the person until he died of exhaustion. {See sections below: “Active Abilities” & “Passive Abilities” for facts which could have inspired such myths.} 

A samodiva's power is believed to come mostly from her long (usually blond) hair. A samodiva would sometimes give a small portion of it to her lover to strengthen her control over him via its magical effects. However, if her hair is damaged in some way, she will either disappear entirely or be stripped of her powers and beauty. {Little truth to this myth beyond the magical properties contained in Veelan hair, which is infrequently used as a wix wand core.}

A samodiva's close connection to the forest makes her knowledgeable about magical herbs and cures for all illnesses. It is said that if a person managed to eavesdrop on a gathering of samodivas he could also gain knowledge of these remedies. In many stories, this is exactly what the hero is forced to do to save a loved one, as a samodiva would never share her secrets willingly. In Macedonian folklore, samovila's are often seen that they have the ability to hurt people or to heal them. {See section below: “Passive Abilities” regarding accelerated healing.}

Veelan Conception & Birth

The process by which Veela bear children is not fully understood, but what we do know is that to become pregnant, a Veela must copulate with Intent, in sync with the Natural Harmonics of the area, and after a ritual involving one full Moon Cycle.

Births of newborn Veela commonly happen late evening or early morning while the moon is still visible. The birth of a full-blooded Veela is a dedicated occasion that involves a number of members of the community at once, as neither the conception nor birth are as typical as Humans. The birth of two full-blooded Veelan twins is a rarity amongst the species, and is a highly coveted, sacred occurrence.

Due to the mishap of the Birth of the Twins, the birth is overseen by members of the community to ensure no nefarious acts are occurring, that those involved are protected, and that the ritual can take place comfortably beneath the moon. The presence of a matriarch for the Veelan bloodline being sired is preferable during the birthing ritual.

Lifespan

A common misconception regarding Veela is that they are immortal; in truth, Veela do age, albeit very slowly in comparison to humans and even wix lifespans. Full-blooded Veela average a lifespan of one thousand years, while a half-blooded Veela will average 500-600 years. 

A Veela will mature at a rate comparable to humans through “puberty”; roughly 12-17 years after a Veela’s birth they will experience the most growth and development of their passive abilities, and after approximately eighteen years, a Veela is considered fully mature in their society, and will not appear to significantly age until the last 20-50 years of their life. It is likely this quality that perpetuates the myth of Veela being eternally youthful.

Passive Abilities

Known for their beauty, a Veela’s allure is in fact biological; most humans are drawn to Veela, and have been often noted to experience lust and desire while in the presence of a Veela at a heightened or even sometimes overwhelming rate. 

Full-blooded Veela possess the ability to transform into a winged, part-bird Harpy-form when enraged, and while in this form they can shoot fireballs from their hands. This shifted form has not been recorded as passed on to part-Veela historically; however, there are several cases of noted affinity to birds in particular, which is theorized to stem from the Veelan Harpy form.

Veelan blood has accelerated healing properties, which means those of Veelan descent heal from cosmetic wounds more rapidly, have difficulty maintaining piercings and tattoos, and are rarely known to contract common illnesses. Historically, Veelan blood was highly sought after by wix, often hunted for and sold on the medicine circuit to aid in healing. Veelan blood is noted to smell irresistible to vampires, and possess a drug-like high on vampires who consume it. Lesser known about is the healing qualities a Veela’s saliva can have on a human wound; in fact, the modern practice of kissing an injury to “make it better” comes from a very old Veelan medicinal practice of kissing an injury to heal it. 

Veela are generally highly in tune with the natural world, including plants and animals, and most report being more comfortable the closer they are to nature. Veela also reportedly possess a latent ability to sense energies that are not perceptible to most humans in a physical way, but it’s a sense that must be nurtured and developed; most Veela have been known to channel these mysterious energies into their own form of wandless magic. 

Active Abilities

The Veela Charm

“You have to feel it. It’s like fog; gentle and delicate, but enough for you to sense against your skin. It has its own waves, its own currents, and you, my darling, have the power to guide it. You can slip it into the minds of Men and haze them, make them believe whatever you desire, and bend them to your will to act however you see fit. Or, you can wrap it around despair and smother it where it stands, press it into wounds to cloud and ease their pain. It is up to you to choose how it is used, but however you choose— do it with conviction.”

Also known as glamouring or charmé, the act of imposing a Veela Charm on a human or Being involves drawing in express emotional energy from another and then pushing it back into the mind of the person being Charmed, along with the power of the Veela’s will. Those that are experiencing strong or otherwise turbulent emotions are significantly easier to Charm, due to the emotional expenditure they’re putting out. This is especially true of emotions related to desire and anger (’passions running high,’ related to the duality of the Veela’s alluring female form and the rage-fueled Harpy-form), but can be true also of jealousy, anxiety, sadness, worry, joy, disgust, fear, hatred, love, etc.

The nature of the Charm causes the person being Charmed to be susceptible to a Veela’s suggestion, to varying degrees; for the average or half-blooded Veela, the effect equates roughly to intense emotional coercion or persuasion, that when administered properly is often indistinguishable from the Charmed’s own wants and decisions. Those under the influence of a Veela Charm are noted to experience rosy vision, and an intensified desire to please the Veela who is Charming them by doing what they suggest. Full-blooded and more powerful Veela are able to gain such control over the mind of the Charmed, however, that they can fully persuade the subconscious to their own will, effectively altering the Charmed’s perceived reality. For all Veela, the ability to generate and impose a Veela Charm is a learned skill that can be developed and mastered with practice and time.

The most powerful among the Veelan race who experience the highest level of control over their abilities are even able to perform a Veela Charm on other Veela, though this practice is highly frowned upon in Veelan society {see subsection below: “Sins”} 

Less common but still practiced amongst some Veelan circles is imbibing non-sentient lifeforms, such as flowers and plants, with traces of the Veela Charm, which causes anyone in near proximity to the item to experience a highly diluted emotional effect based on the will of the Veela who performed the Charm.

The Veela’s Dance

When full-blooded Veela perform together in a ritualized dance, the effect on humans has been characterized as mesmerizing and even hypnotic, in such a way that those watching will enter a trancelike state in which they experience a loss of words, and will sometimes try to impress the Veela in foolhardy ways.

Link of Kin

Originally known as vrŭzka na krŭvta, or “bond of blood” in Bulgarian, the Link or Nexus of Kin is a phenomenon of consciousness connection between Veela in the same bloodline. While Linked, a pair or group of Veela experience an intense magical empathic connection which allows them to feel each others’ emotions on a sensory and telepathic communicative level, as well as share memories. This process is known to be calming and meditative--a heightened zen-like state similar to the ease Veela naturally feel in the presence of other Veela, but exponentially more powerful the more Veela are Linked. The “blood connection” is thought of as sacred and spiritual to Veela, whose long lifespans place particular gravity on family, lineage, and collective memory.

The Link of Kin is a learned process; however, very rarely, a Veela will be a Nexus Born Natural. Such a Veela would, from the earliest development of their abilities, experience an involuntary empathic connection with humans and other Beings, drawing in emotional energy with noticeable physical sensation, as well as sensing the “lifeforce” of the consciousness of others, and sometimes unintentionally mirroring or reflecting drawn-in emotions that are not their own. A Born Natural’s abilities are notoriously difficult to control and require dedicated focus and training to master, lest the Veela become overwhelmed by the constant influx of outside energetic stimuli.

Cold Iron

It’s been shown through some limited study that both passive and active Veelan abilities can be lessened, minimized, and even warded off entirely through the controversial use of cold-forged iron.

A process known only by Goblinkind and kept highly secretive by the same, the cold iron must be forged using a precise process, and then bound to the wix’s aura for the relative immunity to Veelan abilities to be effective. Any slip up in this process can result in disastrous, irreparable damage to a person’s aura. {Recommend further testing and study on the effects of cold iron in relation to Veela and wix.}

Veelan Society

Veelan society is largely matriarchal, with Veelan male offspring being something of a rarity in terms of percentage. Because of the long lifespans of Veela, a Veelan matriarch’s successor is selected prior to their death, and can be chosen from any of the matriarch’s Veelan kin, regardless of their age; often, a new reigning Veela matriarch will be selected based on merit and their contributions to Veelan society as a whole. 

Similarly, the death of any Veela is considered a great loss to the societal collective, and as such, the death of a Veela is mourned internationally. All Veela are made aware of their passing and permitted a compulsory mourning period for their fallen kin.

Sins

A set of rules taught to and followed by all Veela which, should they be broken, are considered Sin(s);

None should use the Charm against another Veela. Despite being difficult to achieve, if done the consequences can be exile or even death, depending on the nature of the Sin.

No other Beings are permitted within or around the spaces owned by a brood without prior approval by the Matriarch.

Veela & Other Beings

Veela & Were-Beings/Half-Breeds

With their connection to the moon and close relationship with animals themselves, Veela and Were-Beings tend to get on surprisingly well; they manage to find a common ground on many fronts, their Harpy blood lending to a softness and kinship.

Veela & Vampires: Siblings

{NOTE: THIS SECTION HAS BEEN MARKED AS SENSITIVE AND RESHELVED FOR FURTHER ANALYSIS}

...

{For further study, known Veelan Bloodlines, historical succession disputes, or notable Veelan figures and historically significant events, please consult Appendices A-E of the catalogue Magical Species: Beings: Veela.}

[hybbat]

So last night my D&D group that made the veyr first session 9 hours long ended up making the third session 6 hours long because they decided to BUY 20 CHILDREN, STEAL A TRAIN, AND BACKTRACK ALL THE WAY HOME and it all started with them buying a sealed pot from a faun.

So the party was basically supposed to have something of a roadtrip session getting from point A to point B; they were leaving the town they started in, heading south to another town, then west to Steamtown, and then finally a trek through the desert to the crater where the main plot is waiting.

They did everything but the last part, because once they got to Steamtown they decided to walk around and do some shopping and see tourist traps.

The first one to go was Keahi, a fire genasi monk who used to be a normal man and believes himself to be a chosen one, and is a bit of a cultist nut. He had in the previous town taken in a stray dog he named Ember and wanted to buy food and a scarf for her. So he, in all his fiery glory, decided to walk around this magic hating city and was basically chased off by everyone.

He specifically searched for someone who looked similarly outcast and eventually found a faun merchant, named Parmesan, who was set up on a little mat with a very random assortment of wares, some of which were magic, some of which were just straight up broken or trash. Keahi bought a little orange scarf with a sun design on it and then browsed through the rest of Parm’s wares which included a “potion of removal”, a “Staff of Flours”, “Slippers of Fire Walking”, and most importantly, a sealed pot.

At the moment, Keahi’s biggest concern was a smouldering doll that was in the faun’s possession. Parm, whenever he sold something, would toss out a totally random amount of gold, however, but Keahi managed to convince him to trade it for a signed kazoo and a salamander plushy. Keahi, after also buying a scarf, went on his way.

Not long after he left, however, Fable, a battle-dancer bard tiefling who is part of the circus that acts as their homebase, came across the same faun. Fable had been on a mission to retrieve a shipment of wood planks for the circus but had stopped to browse. Fable, realizing this faun had a potion made by an old friend of his, having met his partymate, and also very obviously absolutely an idiot, decided to give Parm a bunch of money in exchange for the shoes and the sealed pot. When asked what was in the sealed pot he didn’t know so it was bought for 200 gp.

Fable discovered it was a literal jackpot filled to the brim with silver, gold, and platinum coins that totalled to around 1600 gp. Feeling guilty about the fact that Parm who was stupid and poor had sold him a pot of money, he went to bring 500 gp of the jackpot back out of guilt and Keahi tagged along.

In the end Fable felt guilty enough to take Parm on a shopping spree. On this shopping spree Parm saw a fortune teller, shrouded in darkness but with lizardfolk hands rubbing a crystal ball. Parm really just wanted the crystal ball but all three got their fortunes told. She predicted the homeless Parm would lose all his money, wife, and house, and that the orphan Keahi would meet someone related by blood who cared very much about him in the future.

Her final prediction was Fable’s, whom she could see great regret in his past, but could see that he would soon no longer have to worry about it, and revealed one green catlike eye to him before cackling as the stand collapsed right before their eyes.

Fable freaked the hell out at this point, because he knows exactly who that was, and realizes he is being watched by someone incredibly dangerous. Fable gives Keahi the instructions for the wood errand and drags Parm back to their camp to calm down.

So, Keahi ends up going to do this errand on his own to retrieve 4 crates of wood planks from a train station. Keahi had never been on a train simply because he was a poor cultist with no previous reason. So Keahi is quite shocked to discover the majority of this rail’s “employees” are, what they claim to be, tailless halflings (in my setting halflings have long monkey tails) but Keahi quickly figures out while interacting with the one who is helping him with his errand that these are in fact child slaves.

Keahi quickly realizes that his method of putting the lumber into the bag of holding is going to require 2 round trips. While leaving to deliver the first half Keahi, wanting to do something nice for this elf child, pays him a tip of 20 gold against the nervous boy’s own wishes.

When he gets back and explains the situation to Fable, formerly being a child slave himself and knowing exactly why the kid didn’t want the money, goes with Keahi for the second shipment, and they quickly discover that the overseer not only stole the gold but roughed the kid up as punishment. Keahi would not stand for this, and so Keahi, along with the boy’s old shaggy dog, confronted the overseer against both Fable and the boy’s wishes. It escalated pretty quickly, Keahi insisting on the money being returned and the overseer playing dumb and threatening to beat him up as well.

Fable, already stressed from earlier and having his own personal past trauma dragged up, stepped in and forced Keahi to back off, and then quietly asked how much it would cost to buy all the children. Against the other worker’s wishes the overseer sold all 20 children for 2000 gp, basically every coin Fable had.

Keahi wasn’t done, though, and very upset by the injustice. So, while the man was distracted, Keahi snuck up on him and sucker punched him with a stunning strike before stealing back all the money. The rest of the workers quickly chased after him right out of the train station, leaving Fable alone with 20 kids, an old dog, and an unattended train.

And unattended train he had all the employees for. 

Keahi had a chase scene but could not get rid of his pursuers. In the end, however, he was saved by a mysterious Tabaxi woman with green eyes who cackled as she ran off.

Meanwhile, Fable had contacted their final party member, Domnall the plague doctor necromancer, who was looking after their pets, Parm, and the carriage, to come to the train station where they were preparing to steal a whole damn train.

Everyone eventually made it back and just as the last of the workers showed up they took off down the tracks, saved by the old dog giving a thunderous bark that froze the workers solid right before they climbed aboard. Thus, the party along with 20 children, a faun, and the 2 dogs (one of which was definitely not actually a dog) rode the rails all the way back to the town they started in, with all their money still, and where they proceeded to buy 2 carts and head north to meet back up with the circus to drop the children off with them to deliver to an orphanage in the next town they were heading to.

And that is how my players turned a well-planned 3-4 hour game into a 6 hour train heist all because of a sealed pot.

[monsterlovinghours]

So... I found an interesting tweet and was wondering if you'd write something sexy for it.... "In Vietnam it's a popular belief that if you are single in your 20s there is a ghost following you and hindering your romantic life because it wants to be with you and I just want to tell my personal ghost to quit being a coward and fuck me already." Also I claim the ✨ Emoji, if that's okay?

That’s fine with me, Starburst! holy fucking moly this took me forever to finish and this turned out way longer than i had originally planned but fuck this is such a neat idea and it just kinda snowballed but it’s finally done hurrah!!!!

fem!reader, just bear with me i am soft and full of feelings and i need to self insert

Bitter tears stung her eyes as she unlocked the front door to her empty apartment. Her empty, cold, lonely apartment. Another unsuccessful first date, ruined before any real potential could be reached. Everything seemed to go wrong; first her car wouldn't start, then her Uber was late, the table next to theirs at the restaurant was noisy and obnoxious, and the movie they had wanted to see had been sold out. Her date hadn't offered any suggestions to further the date, just sighed and took her home. He didn't even try to touch her, barely looked at her, and that stung more than she cared to admit, to feel invisible and undesirable. If he was the first, second, or even the fifth, it might not have hurt quite so badly. But the numerous dates she had gone on since entering her twenties had all gone the same way, ending too soon without a single spark of chemistry. Was there something wrong with her? Was she that repulsive?

Sighing, she swallowed her tears for the moment and walked dejectedly to her bedroom, dropping her purse and keys as she went. Down came her hair from the careful twist she had pinned it into, Mediterranean blue waves spilling down her back, her dress shed and her shoes kicked off. Makeup removed and dressed in panties and an oversized shirt, she slipped into bed, curling up with a pillow hugged to her chest. Finally, she let the tears come, sobbing out her hurt, her frustration, her loneliness. She had thought that perhaps this would be the one that went somewhere, that she'd finally break the cycle and maybe, just once, she'd have the chance to feel wanted, to feel seen. To love and be loved, like everyone else. But no; either she was entirely unloveable, or some force out there was deliberately fucking things up for her. In desperation, she angrily muttered through her tears, "Whatever cosmic entity has decided that I'm going to be lonely and hurting forever, could you either fuck off or come fuck me yourself?"

Thud

Something fell from her desk, something relatively heavy, and she sat up with a start and a gasp, her heart hammering. Her journal had fallen to the floor, lying open on a date that was still several months in the future, and the pen that she kept tucked in the pages…was standing upright on the page, scribbling something onto the paper. Her heart rose up into her mouth, fluttering sickeningly. That...was...not normal. Slowly, she slid out of bed, approaching the journal as if it were a live thing, dangerous and fanged and unpredictable. The pen finished whatever it was writing and fell over, and she knelt to read the message it left behind.

i thought you'd never ask babe

She sat back, her eyes darting around the space as if she could catch a glimpse of the mysterious specter that seemed to be listening, watching. Her voice soft, hesitant and tremulous, she asked, "Is someone there?"

Instantly, the pen flew upright again, scratching something out just below its previous message.

been here the whole time sorry about your date. 

"Oh my fucking god," she breathed, her pulse pounding in her ears. "Who...who are you? How long have you been here? Are you the one fucking with my love life?"

whoa one question at a time babes

To calm herself, she took a deep breath. "How long have you been following me?"

5 years 

"Jesus." She let out a breath, unsurprised to feel her hands shake as she ran them back through her hair. "Why?"

its complicated id rather tell you face 2 face

Her brow furrowed, getting to her feet to switch on her light. "Okay. So come out and talk to me. Why are you hiding?” The pen scratched across the paper insistently.

invisible not hiding

“So...make yourself visible?” She crouched by the journal, noticing that the pen was digging into the paper so hard it was nearly tearing it. 

Can’t until you say my name

“So what’s your name?”

Can’t tell you

“Oh for fuck’s sake,” she groaned, throwing up her hands in exasperation. The pen suddenly flew across the room, where a poster that had been hanging on her wall swung loose, then fluttered to the ground. Her poster of the constellations. The pen was circling something, a name...the name of a star. 

“Betelgeuse?”

Almost excitedly, the pen wrote next to the star, the words jagged and sloppy.

Two more times!!!

She paused, wondering if this was truly a good idea. “Beetlejuice.”

One more one more one more please baby gimme one more

One beat, then two, then she threw caution to the wind and spoke the word one final time. “Beetlejuice.”

Her light flickered, as if to announce the sudden appearance of a very real, very solid looking figure standing with their feet planted on her poster, wearing a suit of dirty black and white stripes and a grin that could light up a small town. “You said it! You finally said it! I’ve been trying to get you to talk to me for five fucking years and you finally said my name!” Before she could speak or even breathe, he had all but lunged for her, wrapping her up in his arms, the smell of damp earth filling her lungs even as he tried to squeeze the breath out of them. Ineffectually, she squirmed in his over-enthusiastic embrace, trying to wriggle away, to take a minute to process what the fuck was happening and who the fuck was standing in her bedroom right now. 

“Wait wait, hold on, so...your name is Beetlej-”

“Shhhhh!” He clapped a hand over her mouth, shaking his head vehemently. “Don’t say it. I’m sorry babes, but I’ve waited too long for this to go tits-up now.” He lowered his hand slowly, that grin resurfacing. “Okay, so I know you’ve got a lot of questions and you must be pretty excited to meet your own personal ghost but before we get to the boring stuff I gotta do one thing first.” Without giving her a chance to ask, his hands slid to her waist, pulling her to him even as he dipped her back and kissed her, his lips like ice, though surprisingly soft. What surprised her most was not the kiss itself, but rather her lack of aversion to it; she tried to tell herself it was because she hadn’t been kissed in so long that she was desperate for any kind of affection, even the strange, otherworldly, and rather abrupt kind. Oddly enough, she even found herself kissing him back, her fists gripping the lapels of his coat as he set her upright again. That Cheshire grin still hitched the corners of his mouth high, and his gaze raked over her like a physical caress, cool, white hands still curved in her waist. 

"Alright. Fire away, babes, ask me anything."

"Um…" Her head spun, thoughts racing, heart still pounding a chaotic timpani in her ears. "Did...did you say 'my own personal ghost'?"

"I sure did. You're one of the lucky gals that gets a ghost attached to ya when you reach adulthood. And you've got the luck of the draw, sweet stuff, because you managed to snag the Ghost with the Most!" His thumbs hooked into his suspenders, though oddly enough, two hands still stayed clasping her waist.

"And you...you've been fucking with my dates...screwing around with my love life for five years?"

Her voice raised a bit in pitch, and he had the presence of mind to look sheepish. "Sorry about that, but none of those schmucks were good enough for you. I had to scare 'em off, you're mine."

"Excuse me??" She broke his grasp, stepping away from him as her brows knitted together in hurt and anger. "I've spent five years convinced there was something wrong with me, that I was repulsive or unattractive or unlovable, because no one ever made it past the first date, and you waited this long to tell me that it was you the whole time? Do you have any idea how worthless I felt after each failed date? How broken a-and defective I felt? How-”

“Hey hey, take it easy for a second, dollface!” He grasped at her wrists; until he grabbed them, she hadn’t realized how wildly she was gesturing. “Look, I tried. I’ve been trying since the moment I saw you to get you to talk to me. It ain’t exactly easy for the dead to communicate with the living. But you knew I was there, didn’t you? Hasn’t every house you’ve lived in felt just a little bit haunted?” She paused, thinking back to all the doors she had closed but hadn’t opened, the objects on the floor that had been sitting secure on a shelf when she’d left, the quiet moments when she couldn’t sleep when she swore she could feel eyes on her. Encouraged by her pause, he continued. “You breathers are stubborn, you just don’t wanna see what’s right under your noses. Until tonight, I barely had enough influence on the living world to push a piece of paper off the desk. But you...you called for me. You finally gave in and called for me.” He grinned again, and though the fangs should have made him seem frightening and demonic, he just seemed...relieved. “I was finally able to tell you my name, and let me tell ya, there hasn’t been a single sound in my very, very long existence sweeter than you calling my name.”

She took a deep breath in, processing everything he had told her, everything that had happened in...god, had it only been three minutes? “What did you mean when you said that...I was yours? What does that mean?”

He shrugged, pulling her closer, his hand pressing against the small of her back. “Means you’re mine, babe. It means that you’re my girl.” Something dulled the gleam in his eyes, and to her surprise, the green in his hair began to fade to a deep, shamed violet. “I was there for every night you fell asleep cryin’ over some guy who would have only hurt you in the end. It gutted me that I couldn’t do anything to help. You’re my baby, and I don’t like to see you hurt, and I really don’t like being the one to hurt you. But it had to be done. You didn't belong with any of them." He opened his mouth as if to say something else, but shook his head, his eyes squeezing shut as his hair faded back to green, as if he were forcing the color to appear. "We're wasting too much time talking when I should be kissing you."

"W-We just met!" The outrage on her voice felt like a show, a dutiful proper response to finding a green-haired, handsy ghost in her bedroom. But she hadn't once tried to wriggle out of his arms, unconsciously leaning closer when his hand slid up her spine.

Beetlejuice shook his head, stepping into her, strands of pink peeking through the green of his hair as he felt her body against his, solid and oh, so warm. "We've known each other for years, honey. You may not have had a face or a name, but deep down you've always known I was there. If I was just some stranger, you'd have run for the hills by now." She wanted to argue, but as much as she didn't want to admit it, he was right. His presence felt familiar, like a memory from her past she had all but forgotten about, but the emotions attached still lingered. It was why she hadn’t struggled when he reached for her, hadn’t tried to shake off his grasp, had kissed him back. His grin widened when she didn’t argue or protest, and he pulled her close, her body flush to his; he all but purred at the way her lashes fluttered, her hands naturally settling on his shoulders, as if they had done this a hundred times.

“Let me kiss you,” he rasped, holding her chin in his hand. “I’ve been waiting for you for so long, babe, please...let me give you a real kiss.” There wasn’t much more than a fraction of a second of hesitation before she nodded, gaze flicking to his mouth just before the distance closed and her brought her lips to his. With that first urgent kiss out of the way, this one was softer, more patient, sweet, and when she felt his tongue trace the seam of her lips, she parted them without question. Oh, it was wonderful, more so than she had ever dreamed, to be kissed like she was the most beautiful woman in the world, to have hands pressed so close to her skin, as if she would slip from his fingers and shatter if he let go. She wasn’t quite sure how they had ended up on her bed, but the softness of the duvet embraced her as he laid her back, kneeling over her. She moaned as the tip of his tongue flicked against hers, the sound echoed as he tasted the first flickers of her pleasure, soft and tremulous, like the first stretch of the wings of a newly emerged butterfly. 

“I wanna touch you,” he growled, his kisses trailing down her neck. “Fuck, you taste so good already, baby.” One of his hands rested at her collarbone, waiting for the invitation to slip lower. “Please, honey, let me pull your shirt up? Wanna feel just how warm you are under there…”

“Wait,” she said breathlessly, leaning up on one elbow. He seemed confused, perhaps just a touch annoyed, but he stopped. “All those years you spent following me around...did you ever…” She gestured to herself. He smirked.

“Of course not. Not that I didn’t want to, sweetness, but when I saw you for the first time, I wanted you to be able to see me back, y’know?”

“And when I...had...alone time?” She arched a brow, and his grin widened. 

“Didn’t see a thing. Scout’s honor. Though, I definitely heard quite a lot. You know, you’re not nearly as quiet as you think you are.” Her cheeks flushed red, and she turned her head to the side in an attempt to mute the color rising in her cheeks. “Nope, huh-uh. Keep those eyes on me, babe.” His fingers gripped her chin again, bringing her gaze back to his. “I want you to keep looking at me, no matter what.” She nodded, and he grinned, kissing the tip of her nose. “Good girl. Now, lemme get a look at you.” Perhaps not quite as slowly as he should have, he grasped the hem of her shirt and lifted it, groaning as her breasts came into view, soft and tipped with dusky pink. “Oh fuck,” he nearly whimpered, and she moaned as his hips pressed into hers, seeking warmth and friction. “Such a gorgeous little thing. I can’t tell you how many times I’ve seen you come in from the cold, saw these little beauties all stiff and hard through your shirt, and wanted to tease them with my tongue until I had you moaning and squirming.”

She shivered, letting loose a soft sound of want as he settled his weight more firmly over her, purring like a cat as he leaned down to kiss her nipples, first one, then the other. A moan left her as she felt his tongue softly lick at one stiff peak, her hand tangling in his hair, which to her surprise pulled an answering moan from him. Seems she had found a weak spot.

Oh, she had never dreamed that this would feel so nice, his mouth at her breasts, sucking, kissing, licking, teasing. His hands, still cool but warmer than before, squeezed the full flesh, kneading restlessly, and she arched her back, pulling her shirt off all the way and moaning. His scruff tickled her skin, made her shiver and break out in goosebumps, and she let her fingers drift through his hair, causing him to spill little growls and purrs against her skin.

"Ohhhh, baby," he groaned, lifting his head, his hair a deep rose pink, his pupils wide, drinking in the sight of her. "Baby girl, I've dreamt of this moment for five years, I wanted to make it so good for you. But I don't think I can wait." His hand slipped down her body, palm flat to her skin to touch as much of her as he could at once, then slid between her legs, inside her panties to cup her sex, the heel of his hand pressing into her clit. She keened, her toes curling, and he groaned in response. "Please, babe," he murmured, pushing the tip of his middle finger into her. "Please?"

"Yes," she said, with no hesitation, nodding enthusiastically. "Yes, god, please."

There it was again, that mega-watt grin, his mouth split wide with joy. "Thank you, doll, fuck...oh, I've been wanting this for far too long." He sat up, and in the time it took for him to be upright again, his clothing-suit, tie, and all-had vanished, leaving him naked and visibly throbbing. His hands shook as he pulled down her panties, his cock twitching as he saw her bare for the first time. “You’re so fucking gorgeous, my god…” Nearly the same temperature as her now, he touched her, thumb rubbing her clit as he pressed two fingers inside. “Has any guy ever done this to you before," he asked lowly, his free hand sliding up her thigh as he watched his fingers slide in and out of her. 

"No." Her answer came immediately with a shake of her head, hips rolling against his hand. "No one."

"I knew it." He grinned, withdrawing his fingers and popping them in his mouth with a deep groan. "Knew you'd wanna save this for me." Licking his lips to savor her, he crawled over her, grasping himself to guide his cock to her entrance. The tip pressed inside, and he groaned, shivering as he saw her teeth come down on her lower lip. "Feel okay?"

"Feels great," she murmured, reaching up to hesitantly cup his cheek in her hand. "You can move, honey, you won't hurt me." Her heart gave a funny little stutter as he nuzzled into her palm, as if craving her touch. He began to rock his hips, so shallow and gentle, widening her for him, though she could see the strain it put on him to go slow, the tension in his shoulders and the clench of his jaw. Any last doubts she had about him melted away as she fully understood the care he was treating her with. To wait so long for somebody, to be with them every second and watch them laugh and cry and hurt without you, to ache with the need to touch them and be near them, and for the object of your affections to not be able to see you, let alone touch you...she could only imagine how frantic for her he must feel, but he was taking the time to consider her comfort, setting a slow pace despite the fact that it must be torture for him. “Beej?” She spoke the nickname softly, and his gaze focused on her with laser intensity, teeth exposed in a grin. “You don’t have to take it so slow, I won’t break.” Her thumbs stroked over his cheeks, slipping down to cup the sides of his neck and trace his jaw. “I want you to...to feel me. I made you wait so long, honey, but you can make up for lost time now. Don’t hold back.”

A thousand expressions crossed his face at once, his hand sliding around the back of her neck to lift her head, pressing his forehead to hers. “Baby,” he rasped, sounding on the brink of some tremulous emotion, “are you sure? I want this to be good for you-”

“This is as much for you as it is for me. If...if we’re really meant for each other, then isn’t it my job to take care of you, too?”

Beetlejuice let out a soft noise that sounded suspiciously like a sob, his lips pressing desperately to hers. “How did I get so fucking lucky to land a babe like you?” And with a snap of his hips, he was fully hilted, his eyes rolling back to the whites as she jolted in his arms, her wet warmth squeezing him, gripping him so tight. A string of curses left his lips, some in a strange language she suspected wasn’t from anywhere aboveground, and she lifted her legs to wrap around his waist, anchoring herself to him. “Fuck, that’s it, babycakes,” he crooned, his hips rolling, groaning with each delicious slide within her velvet. “Ohhh shit, you take me so well...yeah, fuck, you feel so damn good, sweet stuff. You doin’ okay?”

Oh God, was she ever. It was a little uncomfortable at first; while he was average in length, he more than made up for it in width, and there had been a strange burning as she stretched to accommodate him. But that sensation of fullness, of movement, of joining...was indescribable. It felt like breathing for the first time. Like the final piece of a puzzle slotting into place. Like the ceasing of a lifelong pain she had grown too used to to notice until it was no longer there. “Yeah,” she answered, tears gathering in her eyes. “I’m great. P-Please, you can go faster.”

He looked stricken at the glisten of her eyes and the tremble in her voice. “You sure? We can stop if it hurts, babes, I don’t-”

“No.” Her hands shot up to thread through his hair, yanking on it to pull him down into a kiss, the first time she had kissed him. “God, no. It doesn’t hurt, honey, it feels...oh, you feel so fucking good…” To emphasize her point, she squeezed her walls around him, bucking her hips up, and he groaned, shuddering against her. “More, please, I need more of you.”

His mouth left hers, but his lips wouldn’t or couldn’t seem to leave her skin, kissing across her cheek, the delicate shell of her ear, down her throat. “Fuck, say it again,” he murmured into the hollow of her throat as his pace increased, pushing harder, faster, the sense of something on the verge of collapse filling the room around them.

She knew what he meant, and she smiled, combing her fingers through his hair, neck arching as her hair spread across the pillow. “I need you,” she repeated, her body meeting his, rising up as he pushed down, rolling and cresting and crashing like waves against the shores of her bedsheets. “I need you, please.”

Whatever splintering dam had been holding him back finally broke, and he latched his teeth into her throat with a cry, slamming into her with unrestrained passion, marking her at her pulse, her collarbones, even just under her jaw. She was his, his, and no one else could ever have her now. She had called him, accepted him, opened herself to him in so many ways, in ways he never dreamed a beauty like her ever would. Praise dripped from his lips like rain, showering her in attention and bite marks. Her back curved, her body alight with sensation, each nerve electrified as she held him tighter and tighter, curling herself around him and letting herself get lost in him. This was everything she had wanted, everything she had been missing, in the world’s most unconventional lover. Affection, pleasure, desire, playfulness, care and attention. Her heart melted, her entire self surrendering to him; she felt it now, felt the rightness of his claim. She was his, body and soul. She always had been. 

His moans changed in pitch, his thrusts frantic, mindlessly chasing his pleasure as he took her hand, pressing it into the bed beside her head as his fingers wove between hers. “Babe, fuck, I’m gonna come...can I come inside you, baby? Huh? Can I fill you up, sweetness, fill you up and make you come with me? Please, baby girl, I’m so close…” He growled, nipping at her earlobe. “Let me make you mine.”

She nodded, almost too breathless to reply. “Yes,” she whispered. “Please, I’m already yours.”

He groaned, sucking her bottom lip between his teeth, pulling it back before releasing it. “Say it again. Tell me you’re mine.”

“I’m y-oohh fuck!” She cried out, cursing as his free hand began rubbing her clit, hard and fast, tripling her pleasure all at once. “I’m yours!”

“Again, babes…”

“Yours, Beej, I’m yours!”

“Louder, baby, scream for me!”

“Yours!”

With a shout, he broke, his entire body shivering as he came, cool and so deep within her she could practically taste it. The fingers at her clit didn’t let up, and moments later she was following him, her pleasure crackling through her, spreading like lightning across a stormy sky through her body. Her vision faded, dimmed, but the light of his smile and the sound of his voice remained clear as day, grounding her as the muscles in her body unfurled one by one, her body collapsing against the bed as the pleasure faded slowly. There was the sensation of something dripping down her thighs, something wet and just slightly cooler than her own skin, and a delicious little shiver went through her at the sensation, heightening the little aftershock tremors. 

“Fuck,” he breathed, lowering himself to rest his head on the pillow of her breasts, “that was worth the wait.” His hands cupped them, pressed them together as he buried his face between them. For a few moments, everything was silent and still, his lips skimming her skin in little butterfly kisses as she stroked her fingers through his hair, catching her breath. Then, she heard something, heard his voice, heard a muffled voice murmur something that sounded suspiciously like, “I love you.”

“What was that?”

Lifting his face ever so slightly, but not looking up at her, he said loudly, “I said you have nice tits!” The words tumbled out of him a little too quickly, and the sudden flush of pink in his hair was a sign that he hadn’t meant for her to hear him, or perhaps he hadn’t meant to speak out loud at all. Either way, she didn’t press the matter, smiling secretly to herself. His kisses, however, became firmer, his tongue even darting out to flick against her skin, and she moaned, wriggling against him as his lips began to migrate south. 

“Where’re you headed, honey?”

“God, I like hearing you call me that.” He grinned up at her, licking over her navel. “What, you didn’t think I was done with you, didja? No way, dollface, I’ve got five years of lovin’ to make up for.” 

She could have made the argument that they had tons of time to make up for those five years, but as his fingers spread her open to allow his tongue to lap at her clit, the sentence was erased from her mind, her hips jolting up into his mouth. It had been worth it, she decided as his clever, hungry mouth sent her spiraling into one frenzied orgasm after another. All the heartache and tears and lonely nights had been worth it, since it had all lead up to him. For the first time, she felt wanted. Felt loved. Felt truly, finally seen.

[lvnatiq]

Surrealtà | Nicky Valentino x Assassin!OC

A/N: Hello, my fellow Valentinhoes! I already mentioned this series that will be approximately 10 chapters long (if not more). I tried to keep the prologue short trying my best to not bore you. The dialogues between the characters are modified according to this story and yes, there will be a lot of new characters alongside the original ones. With that being said if you have any questions or suggestions, let me know :)! 

Enjoy, toots.

Warnings: Violence, mentions of death, usage of inappropriate language.

Prologue: Inferno

“Do you ever doubt your actions? I mean, you know the uproar about them being ethically wrong.”

Andrea's words revealed her agitated behavior. Her sincere concern for her friend was boggling her mind with more questions.

“Why would I doubt my actions when there are enough people already doing that.”

Heaven lifted her glass to her lips and stopped moments before taking a sip.

“I never give people anything more or less than what they’ve done.”

The sour taste of alcohol lingers on her tongue while it makes its way into her system causing her body to warm up.

“If they kill, I kill. Easy as that.”

“You know what’s going to happen when they get you behind bars, right ?” said Andrea. Fully aware of the fact that her attempts at getting her to tap out were not affecting Heaven at all.

“I don’t."

Heaven said as she turned her head towards the anxious eyes that were studying her. Her smirk becomes more prominent as she sets her booze down on the glass table.

“Because It’s not going to happen."

Upon hearing her words Andrea couldn't manage to hide her astonishment.

“How can you be so sure ?”

“I’m not but do I have any other options? I am not someone that you would want to see panicking.”

Heaven said as she continued to play with the rim of her glass. She proceeded as she eyed her reflection on the glass table.

“I might appear dangerous when I let my anger take over, but panic?” she scoffed as she pushed her long locks away from her face.

“I wouldn’t wish that on my worst enemy.”

“Why?” Andrea said, engaging herself with the conversation more and more. Afterall there were no limits to her curiosity.

“I lose control.”

Says Heaven as she collects the documents scattered over the table and then stands up from her stool. She lowers herself at Andrea's eye level as she proceeds with her speech.

“...and If I lose control, my love...”

Andrea drops her gaze as she couldn't bring herself to look straight into her eyes. Heaven whispers her last words, unaware of the fact that this statement will be the foreshadowing of what was about to come.

“All hell will break loose.”

With that, the curiosity killed the cat.

January 1st, 2020

The cold breeze of New York combed her long locks as she stared at her watch. Her pupils dilating as her eyes followed the second hand, continuing to count the seconds.

"Thirty more to go. Then it's time for the Fiesta."

Pushing back the hem of her coat, she pulled out a brand new Glock 19 and a suppressor. Her hands started to wander around the gun as she let the feeling of absolute power captivate her senses. After rolling the silencer onto the muzzle of the Glock, she placed her gun back at its previous position.

The silencer, her infamous nickname.

Nobody knew her true identity nor her background. At this point in her life, others weren't the only ones to do so. Her memory was as unreliable as her trigger. Her past, present, and future remained unknown to her. In her opinion, keeping her past locked in the forbidden spaces of her mind it's for the better.

"Henry Harding, age 46, a prick who traded the life of his wife for the comfort of his stacks."

She reminded herself as her steps quickened. The darkness of the night emerged as the light of the day shuttered under its vigor. Her breathing became apparent, evaporating in front of her eyes.

"His right hand, Richard Kindell, a coward who sold his soul to the same devil that killed his son. Porca miseria! What type of leverage does that son of a bitch has over Richard that keeps him loyal no matter the cause?"

She cursed under her breath as she took a sharp turn. Upon seeing the large crowd in front of the theatre she decided to examine the atmosphere surrounding her. Women in elegant dresses were accompanied by men in suits. Their sweet conversations concerning their excitement about the movie, pervading the air with love. Utterly oblivious of the fact that they were soon to be bystanders of a tragic ending.

"Tragic but a well-deserved ending."

Her plan was too simple for her liking. She made Richard get the same gun that she had attached to her thigh, two weeks before she sent the suspicious mail to Henry. The mail that contained information exclusively known by the two of them regarding Richard's son's death. She was simply using their trust issues as an advantage.

"25 meters till the warfare."

As she moves closer, the ticket booth becomes more visible and her eyes meet the man of the moment, Murray.

"Smile, Heaven. You don't want to disappoint your audience."

She said as she put her killer smile on, turning heads as she walked by. Her charming nature and her mysterious aura always captured people's attention. Even so, she couldn't care less.

Her hair flowing in harmony with the wind, her steps overflowed with confidence, and her eyes gleamed with the fact that she could finally put an end to what the judiciary system defined as a dilemma. It's time for Maria's long-awaited vendetta.

"Hello, Murphy. How's the night treating you?"

Murphy gave her a heartwarming smile, accompanied by sincere laughter.

"So far so good. What about you my dear?"

"Lovely, I'd say. New York has its charm, you know."

She said as her hand reached her pocket, searching for the ticket.

"Seems so."

Murray said as his eyes carefully scanned Heaven's. Sensing his unusual behavior, Heaven glued her eyes back onto his as she took a step further.

"How do you figure?"

She asked as she gave him a smirk. A smirk that often got people's breath hitch, hands sweat and their heartbeats accelerated.

"Your eyes."

Said Murray letting his body language do the favors, he pointed at her eyes.

"They tell a lot."

He said as he positioned himself back behind the booth. Murray was a part of her plan even though he didn't know much about it. She didn't lie to him but she also didn't tell him things that were none of his business. Such as her soon to be attempted murder.

"I suppose."

She said as she lifted her wrist casually to check the time.

"Aces. Perfect timing."

She dipped her hand back again into the pocket of her coat. Unable to feel any sort of texture regarding the existence of the ticket, she slid her other hand into her other pocket.

"Nothing."

"Your ticket, my dear?"

Without disrupting her composure, she thought of a quick backup plan.

"I need him to participate, I lost my ticket. How is this even possible?"

She thought as she closed her eyes shut. Letting out a deep breath, she opened her eyes only to reveal her teary vision. She strongly held on the cuffs of her coat making her knuckles turn white as she lowered her gaze to the floor. Even the most successful artist would be envious of her skilled performance.

"Murray, my ticket is missing."

Murray studied her reaction as he gave her an apologetic smile.

"I'm sorry my dear. I don't think that we have any other tickets left for the night."

Upon hearing his words she raised her gaze to meet his, giving him a look that will scar him for the rest of his life.

"Murray, You know that I can't miss this. Tonight was my main reason for coming to New York. I'm desperate for your help."

She said slowly pushing her coat back to display the outline of the gun beneath her dress. Her innocent demeanor was falsified by her reveal. Murray gave her an empty look, seemingly unaffected by her threat. He stopped for a second before turning to her with a smile.

"I got you, Heaven."

He said as he reached under the desk revealing a golden ticket. He slowly extended his hand as hers followed. Then, he retracted it. Unaware of the dangerous game he was playing with Heaven's patience.

"One last thing, Heaven."

He indicated to her to come closer as he leaned in. Not wanting to waste any more of her precious time Heaven obliged.

"It's time for you to prioritize yourself. For the sake of your good."

He said as he gave her the ticket and pushed the gate open for her.

"Have fun, my dear."

Heaven, unimpressed by his discourse, stepped inside. Hearing the gate close behind her. The heavy smell of tobacco dominated the large area blinded by the lights of the enormous chandelier and golden decorations that reminded her of the Palace of Versailles. A palace that was full of people with extravagant attires laughing and cheering, adorning their social interactions with excessive reactions. Baffled by the unanticipated environment Heaven took a few steps back, letting her back hit the wall.

The wall, located exactly where the gate should be. As her confusion gets the best of her, at her right she notices a man reading a newspaper. She walks close enough to see the contents of the front page. Only to realize that the front page was listing absurdly familiar names of the several presidents. Names that surely belonged to the 20'ies. Heaven gently closed her eyes then she leaned her forehead against the palm of her hand.

"Where the hell am I?" she muttered as her own words, followed by her deep voice, echoed inside of her head. She gave one last glance at the velvet wall where the entrance gate should've been.

"Abandon hope, all ye who enter here."

Vocabulary: 

Second hand: the hand on some watches and clocks that moves quickly, showing the seconds.

Fiesta: an event marked by festivities or celebration.

Porca miseria: in this case used as “Bloody hell”.

Vendetta: a blood feud in which the family of a murdered person seeks vengeance on the murderer or the murderer's family.

"Abandon hope, all ye who enter here.": A message warning one about a hopeless situation from which there is no return. The Italian version of this phrase appears in Dante's Divine Comedy as the inscription on the entrance to Hell. The phrase is most often used humorously.

[adeliaharris]

My Favorite Books...

1. Harper Lee "To kill a Mockingbird"

The story of a small sleepy town in the South of America told by a little girl. The story of her brother Jim, dill's friend and her father - the honest principled lawyer Atticus Finch one of the last and best representatives of the old "southern aristocracy". The story of the trial of a black guy accused of rape a white girl. But first of all it is the story of a turning era when xenophobia, racism, intolerance and bigotry inherent in the American South are warming to the past. The "wind of change" has just begun to blow over America. What will it bring?

- This is probably one of my favorite books.The book captured from the very first pages and did not let go for a long time after reading. You can say a lot of things but better read it.

2. Khaled Hosseini "The Kite Runner"

A heartfelt story of friendship and fidelity, betrayal and redemption, penetrating to the very core. Delicate, ironic and sentimental in a good way, Khaled Hosseini's novel resembles a painting that can be looked at endlessly set in pre-war Kabul in the 1970s. In this magical city shimmering with all shades of gold and azure two weather boys Amir and Hasan live. One belonged to the local aristocracy the other to a despised minority. One's father was handsome and important the other was lame and pathetic. Master and servant, prince and beggar, handsome and crippled. But there were no people in the world closer than these two boys. Soon the Kabul idyll will be replaced by formidable storms. And the boys, like two kites, will be picked up by this storm and scattered in different directions. Each has its own destiny its own tragedy but they like in childhood are tied by the strongest bonds. You run after the kite and the wind as you run after your destiny, trying to catch it. But she will catch you.

- Psychological novel on the theme of "crime and punishment". Deeply elaborated images, convincing children's characters, a remarkably built plot - everything speaks of a great master. For me it is "heavy" literature but it has the right to be because it calls things by their proper names. And most importantly there is light in the stories of Hosseini! The light of true human feelings.

3. F. Scott Fitzgerald "The Great Gatsby"

A jubilant, sparkling thirst for life, a desire for love, alluring and elusive, exciting pursuit of wealth - but now the dream breaks to the sound of jazz and the eternal holiday turns into a tragedy. "The Great Gatsby" is a novel about "how illusions are wasted which make the world so colorful that  having experienced this magic, a person becomes indifferent to the concept of true and false." F. S. Fitzgerald

- I read it and was not at all disappointed! Elegant presentation with high meaning - everything in this life is done for the sake of love. And no amount of money can replace the woman you love... And even if she is stupid, frivolous and idly living her life. I have great respect for Gatsby and contempt for Daisy. There are a lot of wonderful quotes, phrases in the book, it's worth thinking about. I didn’t expect to literally fall in love with this piece! In the future I will definitely re-read it more than once!

4. Daniel Keyes "Flowers for Algernon"

Forty years ago it was considered a fantasy. Forty years ago it read like fantasy. Exploring and expanding the boundaries of the genre eagerly absorbing all sorts of newest trends trying on a common human face bravely ignoring the Cain's stamp of the "genre ghetto". Now it is perceived as one of the most humane works of modern times as a novel of piercing psychological power, as a filigree development of the theme of love and responsibility. It is not for nothing that Keyes called his book of memoirs published in the 1990s "Algernon, Charlie and Me."

- The book is an emotion that will not make you think about something particularly difficult. All the thoughts that it generates are very simple and understandable. Without revelations, of course, but not bad either. The assessment will, rather, depend on the degree of personal sensitivity because the author often uses the concept of "naive hero-evil reality-collision-squeezing out sympathy" during the work.

5. Agatha Christie  "Murder on the Orient Express"

The great detective Hercule Poirot who was in Istanbul returns to England on the famous "Orient Express" in which it seems, representatives of all possible nationalities travel with him. One of the passengers an unpleasant American named Ratchett offers Poirot to become his bodyguard since he believes that he could be killed. The famous Belgian brushes off this absurd request. And the next day the American is found dead in his compartment with the doors closed and the window open. Poirot immediately takes up the investigation - and finds out that the compartment is full of all sorts of evidence pointing... to almost all the passengers of the Orient Express. In addition the train gets stuck in snow drifts in a deserted place. Poirot needs to find the killer before the express can continue on its way...

- I liked the book. Pretty easy to read. The plot is "confused" from the very beginning but Mr. Poirot is yet  a world-famous detective. It is better to read about all the twists and turns of the investigation on your own, "immersion" is guaranteed.

6. Stieg Larsson "The Girl with the Dragon Tattoo"

Forty years of the mystery of the disappearance of a young relative haunts the aging industrial tycoon and now he makes the last attempt in his life - entrusts his search to journalist Mikael Blomkvist. He takes on a hopeless business more in order to distract himself from his own troubles but soon realizes: the problem is even more complicated than it seems at first glance.

What is the connection between a long-standing incident on the territory with the use of mobile devices which happened in different years in different parts of Sweden? What does the quotation from the Third Book of Moses have to do with it? And who, after all, attempted on the life of Michael himself when he came too close to the solution?

- The whole trilogy left a deep impression. Such books appear very rarely. Out-of-the-box characters, amazing Sweden, dark atmosphere. I advise absolutely everyone!

7. Ray Bradbury "Fahrenheit 451"

Perhaps the best of Bradbury's writings. The story "Fahrenheit 451" depicts a dystopian society of the future but in fact - "our reality, reduced to absurdity." Bradbury invented a state where reading and keeping books is prohibited. For the sake of political correctness and general peace of mind the general level of spiritual and intellectual demands of citizens is artificially lowered. But there are rebels and fugitives.

This is one of Bradbury's rare sci-fi works. Very exciting touching and at the same time very lively and dynamic. With a relatively simple plot, it is full of allusions including biblical texts and complex symbolism.

- This is just a great book! I advise everyone to read it! Despite the fact that the author wrote it in 1953 this does not feel at all. A very interesting and poignant plot for our time.

8. Victor Hugo "Les Miserables"

All the works of the great French poet, novelist and playwright Victor Marie Hugo (1802-1885) are covered with a halo of romanticism. The idea of ​​life-giving love, mercy, the triumph of good over evil - this is the core of his novel "Les Miserables". Among the "outcasts" are Jean Valjean sentenced to 20 years for stealing bread for his starving family and the little dirty Cosette who turned into a charming girl and a child of the Parisian streets of Gavroche...

- Brilliant work! So thoughtful, so overwhelming and so humane. The inimitable Hugo put all his philanthropy into this magnificent novel!

9. Stephen King "The Green Mile"

Stephen King invites readers to the eerie world of the death row where they leave in order not to return, opens the door of the last refuge of those who have transgressed not only human but also God's law. There is no more deadly place on this side of the electric chair! Nothing you've read before beats Stephen King's most audacious horror experience - a story that begins on Death Road and goes deep into the deepest secrets of the human soul...

- I have been familiar with the work of S. King for a long time and have read more than a dozen of his books. The work "The Green Mile" is a story that will not let you go for a long time. She leaves a residue in her soul - mixed feelings and indescribable impressions from the story itself, unique and ingenious.

10. Gregory David Roberts "Shantaram"

This art-refracted confession of a man who managed to get out of the abyss and survive, has sold four million copies around the world and has earned rave comparisons with the works of the best writers of the modern era from Melville to Hemingway. Like the author the hero of this novel has been hiding from the law for many years. Deprived of parental rights after a divorce from his wife, he became addicted to drugs, committed a number of robberies and was sentenced by an Australian court to nineteen years in prison. Having escaped from a maximum security prison in his second year, he reached Bombay where he was a counterfeiter and smuggler, traded arms and participated in the showdown of the Indian mafia and also found his true love, to lose it again, to find it again...

- It is very difficult to somehow categorically evaluate this novel. There are many advantages here: a fascinating story of the wanderings of the protagonist in the world of a harsh exotic country. Together with him, the reader develops, absorbs the alien culture and energy of other people, people of another world to which we are not used to. However there is something ridiculous about this.  At times it seems that we are watching real Indian cinema - the brainchild of Bollywood naive and merciless. In general I liked the novel, it is interesting, bright, impetuous. During the period of reading this great story, I have never been bored. Despite some controversial points - I advise!

[maaaaaatryoshka0325]

Arcane - Lee Know Mafia AU Part 1

Description: You accidentally get yourself involved with one of the top tier mafias in South Korea, Stray Kids. Though they all seem like the part, none of them are as cold as Lee Minho, the second in command and the best sniper in the group. And you’re coincidentally always stuck with him.

(Part2) (Part3) (Part4) (Part5) (Part6)

Arcane - Understood by few, mysterious or secret. And that’s exactly what he was. Mysterious. Understood by few, keeping so many secrets in his cold, dark eyes.

And how did you manage to get yourself in this? Just a few hours ago you were living your boring life. A 9-5 job that pays shit for the things you do and the over time you worked. Your small apartment that needed to be cleaned up because it smelt like coffee after you splashed half a cup of it on your rug but didn’t have enough time to clean it up.

Now you were looking into the eyes of the man you believed to be death. His dark eyes held no light, no emotion, nothing. Just bitter pits of darkness.

Four hours earlier:

Coffee can either be your best friend or your worst enemy. Today it’s both. On your way rushing out the door to your boring office job, you managed to spill half a cup of your (fave coffee) on the carpet. And boy was that sure to stain considering you didn’t even have enough time to clean it up.

You made it into the office at 9:00 on the dot and put your things on your desk. You had a meaning at 9:15 sharp, and today you had to work overtime, and the best part? You didn’t get paid for over time since you’re salary, not hourly. Today instead of 9-5, it was 9-8. A whole 11 hour shift, making not enough money to a boss that never appreciated anyone besides himself and the women that slept with him. You had always kept your distance from him, always having a bad feeling.

He wasn’t even the one who hired you. His assistant did. He interviewed you and hired you in the spot, telling you that because you’re an attractive view to keep your distance from the boss. It’s not like you couldn’t get another job. It was just really convenient for you.

The meeting started and you sat at the long desk, acting like you weren’t catching the glances the boss was throwing at you. It was only recently that he had noticed you, despite you being there for four months. And you didn’t see why he kept staring at YOU in particular. All of the women he slept with wore skirts much shorter than yours, and half of their tits were out with their blouses partially buttoned. You wore a simple, a little above the knee pencil skirt with a red button up that had the sleeves rolled up. It’s not like you were dressed like the other women.

The meeting was some bullshit about the sales going down after it had just peaked. Not that you really cared, whether it was going down or going up you were still paid the same amount. Paid too little to care.

After the meeting you sat at your desk. Most of your coworkers had their desks decorated to the brim with pictures and little knick knacks. Yours held simple office supplies with some things scattered here and there.

“Miss Y/N.” The boss greeted with a nod, trying to seem cool.

“Mr. Lim.” You greeted back, not taking your eyes off the screen.

It was finally 7:40 and you stretched. You started to pack your things, wanting to run out as soon as you can. You finished up your work and went to head out before you heard someone clear their throat. Mr. Lim beckoned you up the stairs and you cautiously followed. He went out onto the balcony of the big building. You felt uncomfortable, as everyone else was leaving and it was now just the two of you. You stepped onto the balcony that overlooked the river. He turned towards you and you felt even edgy about the creepy smile he flashed at you.

“I love looking over the river. It’s a beautiful view.” He said.

You nodded and agreement.

“You’re an even more beautiful one.” He said.

“Thank you.” You said lowly.

“Why don’t you come home with me? I’ll make you dinner or buy you whatever you like. Spend the night and we can go shopping tomorrow. That skirt is nice but your legs would look better in something a little more shorter.” He said with a wide grin.

“Thank you but no thank you Mr. Lim. I have to get home.” You said.

“Why? You should stay.” He said.

“I really can’t.” You said, turning to leave.

You felt his hand grab you wrist and he pulled you close to him, an angry look on his face.

“If you want this job you’ll come home with me.” He snarled at you through gritted teeth, his grip on your wrist tight.

“Mr. Lim that hurts.” You said calmly. Although your voice was calm, your mind was racing in fear.

He had you on the ground while he stood over you, his hand still tightly around your wrist. He was much bigger and stronger than you, and fear seemed to be overcoming your mind. You closed your eyes and heard a loud “bang” and felt a heavy weight on you. You opened your eyes and saw his eyes, wide open and dull. You noticed something leaking from his forehead. It was blood.

A large hole was in his head and your jaw dropped as your body began to shake. A lean figure appeared from behind the sliding door to the balcony. He had a face mask and a hat on.

“... This isn’t good.” He muttered, his voice deep.

He walked over and kicked Mr. Lim’s body off of you before bending down and looking at you. He took your chin in his hand and turned your head from side to side then let out a sigh. He spoke into a mouth piece and listened into the earpiece attached to his ear. Another, slightly taller figured appeared from the shadows. His eyes were on Mr. Lim, then on you. You backed away in fear as he leaned towards you.

“We’re bringing her with.” He said flatly.

You were about to get up and haul ass when he looked you straight into your eyes. His dark eyes held no light, no emotion. Nothing could be seen in them, and you couldn’t look away.

“If you value your life, keep your mouth shut and don’t make this difficult.” He said.

You felt the smaller male lift you and bring you into a car, blindfolding you. You sat between them as they began driving back to wherever they came from. The drive wasn’t long, maybe 20-30 minutes. But it felt like hours to you as you had no idea where you were going, who they were, or what awaited you. So many questions race through your mind. Where they going to kill you too? Why did they kill Mr. Lim? Where were they taking you?

The car suddenly stopped and turned off and it was silent.

Great. They’ve taken me to a forest to dispose of Mr. Lim and kill me.

The back door opened and you felt a hand on your arm as you were lead out of the car and up what felt like a long flight of stairs. You heard a large door open and voices. You were sat down as the voices started to talk about you.

“Whose this?” A voice asked.

“A witness to our mission.” The deep voiced man said.

“You’ve taken a witness back here with you?” The same voice asked, sounding a little irritated.

“What else were we supposed to do? Kill her?” The deep voiced man asked.

Silence filled the room and you felt yourself trembling in fear. Kill me? What did I do?

You felt a warm hand on your arm as you trembled.

“She must be terrified already and you’re all scaring her again.” A soft voice said.

“So what ARE we going to do with her? She’s seen too much.” Another voice piped up.

You felt the blind fold being untied and fell off of your eyes and you slowly looked at the men around you. There were 5 of them, the two men that had taken you stood a few feet away, and the others you’ve never seen before. The one beside you that had rubbed your arm had a young face and tall body.

“She’s got blood all over her. What, did you kill him DIRECTLY in front of her?” He asked the two.

A handsome man was seated directly across from you, and gave off the “alpha wolf” vibe. His dark eyes were on you and he seemed to be thinking.

“What’s your name?” He asked suddenly.

“Y-Y/N.” You stuttered.

“So, how exactly do you know Mr. Lim Y/N?” He asked.

“I work for him. Well, worked for him.” You said.

“What kind of business did he have? What did you do?” He asked.

“We sold beauty products and contacted commercial studios to have them put on ads.” You said.

He stood up and walked over to you, softly but firmly grabbing your chin and looking into your eyes. Fear filled you as you started to tremble again.

“Hyung, shes scared.” The man beside you said.

“As she should be, Jeongin. Who said we can trust her? Who said she isn’t apart of the organization Mr. Lim is and playing stupid?” A short, muscular man asked.

“She’s not.” The deep voiced man said.

They all looked at him.

“Mr. Lim was assaulting her. If she knew what he was capable of, I’m sure she wouldn’t of tried resisting him.” He said.

The man named Chan nodded.

“I figured she wasn’t. You can tell when someone is genuinely scared.” Chan said.

“So what should we do with her Minho? You made the decision to bring her back here, you can determine her fate.” Chan said.

You looked at the cold, dead eyed man who had said nothing the whole time. His eyes bore into yours as his hand was on the gun on his belt as he stood up. You flinched back into Chan as he took a step towards you. Yeah Chan was pretty scary, but this man, Minho, was much more terrifying. Minho bent down to your height and stared into your eyes.

“Do you want to live?” He asked, his voice holding absolutely no emotion.

You slowly nodded as his eyes continued to bare yours. You couldn’t look away from his intense eyes as he stared at you.

“You can’t leave, just so you know. Either stay here with us, or die.” He said, his voice cold.

Stay here? With them? Men that murdered your psycho boss?

“So what will it be?” Chan asked.

“I-I’ll stay.” You stuttered.

Chan let a dimpled half smile on his face and rubbed your shoulder. You realized you were still cowering away from Minho and practically on Chan. You moved away and you looked away from Minho’s eyes.

“You do realize what this means, right?” Minho asked.

You looked at him in confusion and he rolled his eyes.

“You’re one of us now girl.” Jeongin said.

“.... Will I have to kill people?” You asked.

“We’ll talk more about this later, when the others return.” Chan said. “In the meantime, Jeongin, why don’t you show Y/N to an empty room? Maybe on the third floor, right wing?” He suggested.

Jeongin nodded and linked his arm with yours.

“There’s a room with a nice, girly bathroom. It’s right near my room.” He said, giving you a smile.

You felt better leaving the room where the other men were. Jeongin wasn’t scary, unlike the other ones. The deep voiced man seemed a lot nicer, if he wasn’t connected to your bosses murder.

You groaned as light suddenly hit your eyes. You opened them and saw Jeongin opening up the curtains and allowing light to pool into your room. The room was huge, a California king bed, a large wardrobe (with no clothes because ya know, you were taken randomly) a massive bathroom with the shower and tub separate, and a large vanity.

“Good morning sleepy head.” He said with a smile.

You sat up and rubbed your eyes. You were still in the same bloody clothes from the night before, and you were sick of it. Jeongin looked at you and frowned before going into his room and coming back in with a pair of joggers and a long sleeve sweater.

“I’m sorry I don’t have any girl clothes but at least they aren’t bloody.” He said, handing them to you.

“Thank you.” You said, taking the clothes.

“Shower and get dressed then come downstairs. The others came back.” He said.

You nodded as you went into the bathroom and ran the shower on your tired body. The warm water gave you some comfort as you washed away the only remains of your psycho boss.

You got dressed into Jeongin’s clothes and walked down the stairs, where Jeongin was waiting in the long hallway.

“Let’s hurry before they lose their patience.” He said.

You both entered the big room as the other members were seated. They sat on couches and on the arms of them. You made eye contact with Minho, his mask and hat off. He had a pretty face, you decided, despite being absolutely terrifying. Another gave you a smile and you recognized his eyes as the deep voiced man. He had an angelic face and bright eyes.

“So, this is Y/N. Minho and Felix brought her here yesterday after she witnessed the disposal of Mr. Lim. As a witness, she holds very dangerous information that can destroy us. Minho gave her the option to stay here, or to die. She chose to stay.” Chan said.

All of the members were silent as they looked at you, disapproval on just about all of their faces.

“Why should we babysit? Why didn’t you just kill her yesterday Minho?” One asked.

“Why should he have killed her? She didn’t do anything wrong Woojin.” Felix said.

“Why was she with Mr. Lim is what I want to know.” Woojin said, his eyes narrowing with distrust at you.

“I worked for him. He has- had, a company that sold beauty products and I was in charge of getting them advertised.” You said.

He stared at you before sighing.

“Her being alive is too dangerous for us.” He said, looking at Chan.

“That’s why she’s staying here Hyung.” Jeongin said.

“What if she tries to run away?” Another asked.

“We’ll find her and kill her.” Minho said coldly.

Your blood ran cold at his words. How could someone be so cruel?

“Y/N, do you accept that penalty?” Chan asked.

You nodded and bowed to them.

“I’m sorry for the inconvenience. But I didn’t know what Mr. Lim was up too. I’m just an office worker.” You said, your voice faltering a bit.

“Yeah she’s definitely no spy.” One said. He had a puppy dog face and a tall body.

“How do you know Seungmin?” The short muscular one asked.

“Just look at her.” Seungmin said.

The short one chuckled.

“I guess you’re right.” He said.

If you weren’t terrified right now you would’ve kicked him in his shin.

“So it’s settled. Y/N will stay here. We’ll make her useful.” Chan said.

“Useful?” You asked.

He nodded and crossed his arms, looking at you.

“Are you good at anything?” He asked.

“Uh... Office work. And I took first aid classes.” You said.

“Alright. We’ll figure something out.” Chan said.

“Uh, Hyung?” Jeongin asked.

“What?” Chan asked, looking at the younger.

“She uh... has no clothes.” Jeongin said.

“.... Right.” Chan said, standing up and smiling at Minho.

“Minho, since you allowed her to decide, you’ll be the one on babysitting duty until she’s useful. So you’ll be going out shopping for her.” He said.

“What?” Minho hissed.

The others laughed and Minho whipped around and narrowed his eyes on Felix.

“You brought her here too, YOU’RE coming with.” He said.

“Ahhh Hyung.” He groaned.

After the discussion, Jeongin gave you a tour of the large house. It was absolutely huge, a mansion. Art and sculptures lined the walls and hallways, and a few hot tubs were scattered here and there. A giant indoor pool with an open sunroom was in the back of the house.

“It’s beautiful.” You breathed.

“Yeah, we love it here. You HAVE to see the garden.” He said.

He lead you to the garden, which was huge. There was a shrub maze and a giant fountain, a large pond with huge koi not too far from it. You smiled as you saw the giant fish raise their lips to the top.

“I’ve never seen such a beautiful mansion.” You said softly.

Jeongin smiled at you as you lightly poked the top of the water, causing the large fish to swim up to it and nibble at your fingers like it was the only meal they’ve gotten in days. You smiled at the large, colorful fish. Despite your situation, you felt completely calm. Jeongin knelt down beside you and stuck his finger in next to yours, giggling as the fish tickled his finger.

“Don’t take Minho’s bad attitude personally. He’s like that with everyone.” He said.

“Really? I thought he just didn’t like me.” You said.

“I don’t know if he likes you or not, it takes him a bit to get used to people.” He said.

“If he doesn’t like people so much, then why did he save me?” You asked. 

“We don’t really like when innocent people get involved or hurt, especially women or children.” He said.

“Then why did that guy say they should’ve killed me?” You asked.

“Woojin? He’s just worried about the group. He’s actually a really warm person.” He said.

“He didn’t seem so warm.” You mumbled.

Jeongin laughed and ruffled your hair.

“You’re funny Noona.” He said.

“You have no idea.” You sighed.

Jeongin got a call and answered, before turning back to you.

“Minho and Felix came back with clothes for you.” He said.

You walked into your room as Minho and Felix were standing there, shirts, leggings, and skirts were put on your bed and hung up.

“We didn’t know your style too much so we got whatever we thought would suit you.” Felix said with a smile.

You nodded as Minho handed you a dark bag and beckoned for the boys to leave. He was the last one, about to leave the room, when you gasped.

“What kind of a women do you take me for?” You gasped.

In the back was an assortment of thongs. You looked up as Minho held eye contact with you.

“Don’t act like you’re not wearing one right now.” Is all he said before he walked out of the room.

“... Touche.” You muttered. 

You couldn’t lie, they were cute, All of them had nice patterns or nicely laced solid colors. They had also grabbed you bras. How the hell did they know your bra size though?

You put your new clothes away and looked up at the ceiling. This new life was something you were going to have to get used too.

[siryouarebeingmocked]

Who moved my cheese?

I missed breakfast this morning before church. Bad time management. Come downstairs with my eggs and salt after church, and Mike and his GF have the kitchen tied up. I grind my teeth and retreat from the field.

When I come back down later, Bravo and Charlie were in the kitchen chatting.

Bravo said he was 'eaten out of house and home' by our thief, might move out. Charlie said he was too. Remember, Charlie is my prime suspect. It behooves him to pretend to be an innocent victim along with everyone else.

While I'm puttering about, Bravo and Charlie go outside to smoke. I take my plastic bag out of the fridge, and-

And then I notice the hole in the bottom of the bag. Large enough to reach my hand through. My ham is fine, the ketchup is fine, what else could-

Ah.

The cheese.

I normally make some kind of eggs-and-cheese dish for breakfast. And since I grate at an angle, that means it usually ends up peaked, like a rooftop.

The thief cut the cheese from the bottom, not the point, which had been a dead giveaway on prior occasions. Did a good job too. A less observant - and/or paranoid - person would not have noticed. In this case, I knew the cheese was rounded on the bottom edges, but it had somehow mysteriously become sharp-edged. Plus, the cut wasn't quite level.

I really hope the thief wasn't expecting me to fail to notice the giant hole in the bottom. In fact, a few months back I noticed a hole in my bag, but nothing seemed to have been taken. Maybe he went after the cheese then too, and I didn't notice. Except the last time he stole my cheese, when he went in through the top, he didn't even bother to hide it.

When the two gents came back in, I demonstrated the principle to them. They said tough luck-

Well, Bravo did. Charlie didn't, IIRC. He did, however, casually ask me what podcast I was listening to when I came in, before they went for their smoke.

Hmm.

Almost like he was trying to be friendly to put himself above suspicion.

Let's wind the clock back a while. Earlier today, before I went downstairs to eat my belated brekky, before even got out of bed, Charlie had a chat with Echo's GF. She, you'll recall, is in the room right next to me. And I've asked them to keep it down before.

So it's entirely possible that he was having the chat outside my door so I would 'accidentally' hear that he got food robbed, or “frobbed”. If so, it failed, I couldn't even tell what they talked about.

God knows I want to buy a dye pack, like banks put in money stacks. But that might screw everyone else over. Also, I can't seem to find them sold retail in the UK. My best option is actually a locking nylon security bag...which I can't actually afford in a decent size*. Or UV powder and a light...which I also can't afford, unless I get a job, and then I'd rather just move out.

Also, playing with a UV light is kinda conspicuous.

So I grabbed three of the heavy shopping bags we keep in the laundry room, and nested them. I only had a lock for the outermost layer. In a perfect world, I'd put dye in the second bag, so when he punches through the first and starts on the second, his hands turn blue. But it might leak into the core bag, and I don't want to eat blue cheese.

Oh, and bad news, good news. Bad news; didn't get the apprenticeship. Good news; a church member is a doctor with a practice about 20 km (1 hr by bus) away. They're hiring, at least temporarily. Reception, administration, all that jazz. Here's hoping.

Also, a company is contacting me tomorrow morning by phone about a part time Customer Service job I applied to. Or at least, they're supposed to. After they missed the last two appointments, I'm not hopeful. I've already started composing the strongly worded letter in my head. I'd say "if you can't be professional when hiring, how can one trust you to be professional in general?" would make them sit up and take notice, in the bizarro universe where I was actually mad** enough to send it and completely scupper my already-slim chances.

The HR Rep was supposed to call Thursday morning, but didn't get to me until evening. Apparently she had a high volume of calls, and she apologized. Incidentally, the strongly worded letter I had started composing in the shower would've mentioned the lack of apologies for the inconvenience, so I was slightly mollified.

Slightly.

Still, I can't quite get rid of this tension in my neck. I'm also snappish and irritable, I'm losing sleep, and I want to scream. Not because of anything in particular, just in general. If you guessed 'depression because you only have another month of money before you slink back home with your tail between your legs', you're probably right.

Still, it's not my first time on this carousel, and at least the toilet trouble hasn't kicked in.

Yet.

PS: Wait, wait, I just had a brain blast! 

You know what’s cheaper - and more legal - than UV powder, dye packs, and fancy bags?

Food coloring.

Guess I might have to learn to like green eggs and ham.

* And I'm not even sure it would actually deter this [FINE GENTLEMAN]. He might cut through the side or break the lock off. I don’t want to spend 20 quid on a bag he’ll get through, especially when I might leave in a month.

** Le double entendre.

[latitudesunknown]

Tiny Haven Gazette #3

In which I drop the gazette format because it takes an ungodly amount of time and nobody cares. 🎉

My house gets a first floor, and coincidentally, my storage doubles, which is a relief. That should free me from spending 30mn every day desperately trying to figure out what to part with for at least a month.

So much space!

And now that it’s been upgraded, I get more customization options and can change the outside of my house!

¨🦄¨

By sheer dumb luck, I finally figure out how to get money trees!!!! I can’t believe it took me so long (although I’m very happy I never looked the answer up online). I should have known there was something up with the glowing golden hole that appeared whenever you dug up some money, that thing was clearly magic!

My pockets were full, so I had no choice but to bury back the money bag I’d just dug out, and this happened. Honestly considering how often I walk around with full pockets I’m astounded this didn’t happen sooner.

So now I have a little money tree orchard. Next experience: does the money tree give you MORE money if you plant a bigger money bag? Tried it this morning, will get an answer in a few days.

¨🦄¨

Raiiiiinbow!

That’s it. There’s no story to go with it, but it’s the first rainbow I’ve seen in the game!

¨🦄¨

I can’t stop thinking about that sweet little cow I saw on @astorytotellyourfriends​​ ‘s island last week, so I decide to build the last house in the hopes of finding her on an island and inviting her over. 

In the process, I realize I could have built myself a beach house all along.

Damnit!

To my horror, however, the very next morning, the house has been sold to a stranger!

Thankfully, my new neighbour, while not being Norma, is just as sweet.

I covet her living room SO BADLY. And also I kinda wanna eat her. Why would you design a rhinoceros to look like a cake?! She must get nightmares where people run after her, trying to bite off her strawberry horn.

¨🦄¨

Shortly after, and as a result of me ignoring him completely for a few days, Phebus FINALLY decides to leave the island.

I actually took a chance when I decided to talk to him, considering that’s the way he always looks.

“Good luck with the neighbours, their stories and their problems... you’re going to need a good dose of patience!”

That shouldn’t be a problem because, unlike you, I actually like people!

And because I like people, of course, joke’s on me, because I feel super sad to see him leave. 🙄

¨🦄¨

Following his departure, I start buying mystery island tickets like a crazy person, hoping to bump into Norma, but so far, no luck.

Why did I meet so many chickens?!

It’s the second day Phebus’s old house is on sale and I’m sure it’ll get sold to a random NPC any second now. The stress is intense!

¨🦄¨ 

I don’t know what’s up with them but everyone on the island keeps asking me if they should change their catchphrases! After the tenth time, I finally give in with Lili, assuming she’ll just come up with a new one on her own, but then am faced with a horrible screen that is asking ME to come up with something on the spot!

Have I mentioned how much I love it when she makes that face?

It took me ten minutes and some internet research to come up with this. This is too big of a responsibility!!

At least she was happy about it.

I’ve gone back to refusing to help the others, though. At least not until I can come up with proper catchphrases for them!

¨🦄¨

For the very first time, I get asked to play postman for my villagers. See, Nacer’s been bonding with Kali (no wonder, since they’re both jocks), but he was too shy to give him a present himself.

“Kali has helped me so much, I picked up a present for him. But I’m too shy to give it to him myself...”

Feeling like cupid, I hurry to Kali’s house. 👼🏹💘

“A frog costume! Oh la la!”

I have to admit that wasn’t the kind of gift I’d been expecting considering how much they both love sports, but ok!

“Did Kali say something about the gift?”

That was super cute, I hope I’ll get more requests like it!

¨🦄¨

In the span of one week I must have learnt about 20 new mimics, which, honestly, I find baffling. Most of them are just sliiiiight variations, it’s ridiculous. In the game I used to work on we ended up with about 50 expressions per character, but that was because they needed to express a wide range of emotions in very subtle ways. You don’t need that for cute island critters, especially when emoting is such a slow process in the first place!

¨🦄¨

Justine visits again one night, which gets everyone on the island talking.

“Since we have a visitor, I’ve baked some cakes. I hope she’ll like them...”

“I absolutely MUST tell her ‘hi’ before she leaves!”

“No, don’t mind me, you’ve got a visitor! Focus on being a good hostess!”

I like their reactions so much I spend more time speaking with my islanders than my visitors whenever I have one, haha.

Also, I love the smoke trails in the sky whenever a plane leaves. That small connection to a bigger world is very comforting.

¨🦄¨ 

Abraham, true to himself, is adorable.

“Good evening, sweets! Grum grom grom... My tummy also says good evening!”

🥰

Later we play to a little game with freakishly accurate results.

“Let’s play! Tell me your favourite color, and I will tell you what food you are.”

“You chose orange, which means you’re easy to live with, but you can also sometimes feel lonely.”

In the end, he said I was an onion. Layers, y’see.

¨🦄¨

I also finally figure out how to eavesdrop on people’s conversations, and get treated to many a story.

Lili : I just read my horoscope... You’re not gonna believe it! It’s sick!

Phebus : What am I supposed to not believe, exactly? The horoscope, or the fact that you managed to read it through? You know what, just tell me what it said, let’s get this over with.

Lili : Listen to this... “Your travels will bring good surprises.” Isn’t that sick?! Especially for me, because I love good surprises!

Phebus : Um... I guess? I mean, I don’t know. How did that make you sick? I’m confused.

Lili : Nah, just wait! After that, I went shopping, and it was the spring sales! Get that, I got a sweet little dress on sale! I was so happy I thought I was going to pass out!

Phebus : What?! Don’t kid with that! D’you need me to call for help?

Lili (totally ignoring him) : So anyway I put on my new dress and went for a walk. And that’s when it started raining big time, and I got drenched... Why didn’t my horoscope warn me about that?!

Phebus : I don’t know... have you tried reading the weather column instead?

¨🦄¨ 

I catch Vanessa and Maëlle talking about a movie they both watched... except they both remember it very differently...

Maëlle : Oh, Vanessa, thanks for lending me that movie, I loved it! The costumes were gorgeous... I want the leading lady’s straw hat!

Vanessa : And that chase in hydro planes! Pfiiiiiiiouuu, ppfffz, ka-BOUM! That was awesome sauce!

Maëlle : And that dress with golden trimmings that she wears at the picnic... that was fine art!

Vanessa : And what about the fight against the giant robot? When he punches a hole in the planet? Whazaam!

Maëlle : Yes! He really stole the scene with his diamond plates... It must have cost a fortune! ... ... Wait, did you say he punched a hole in a planet? Was that before or after the ball?

😂

¨🦄¨

Later, I find the same two talking about Maëlle’s insect infestation problem (probably caused by all the sweets she keeps in her house, just saying). When she asks me what I would do, I tell her I’d just move out, which gets me a VERY judgmental look from Vanessa.

“How do you manage to get rid of them?”

Vanessa’s solution, in the end, is for Maëlle to sell her house to “an insect-loving weirdo”. I wish I knew if that was a dig at Abraham or if it’s just a coincidence.

“Bah, that can’t be impossible. You just need a real weirdo who thinks insects aren’t so bad!”

¨🦄¨

Lili and Raymond get into a big argument about Lili’s cooking skills...

Raymond : By the way, Lili, I haven’t thanked you for lunch the other day! It was very good!

Lili : “Very good”? Seriously, don’t you have something even more corny? Nobody says that anymore! Don’t you mean it was delicious? Or maybe extremely refined? Or maybe super exquisite?

Raymond : Oh! You’re right, I’m sorry. Um, it was... delectable... succulent... A concentrate of sheer deliciousness!

Lili : And?

Raymond : And... every bite sent my taste buds into a transcendental ecstasy?

Lili : Oh! Is that a question or a statement, Raymond?

Raymond : A statement, of course! Pff... All that to describe a stupid sole meunière...

Lili : Don’t tell me you’ve just called my sole meunière, my mother’s own recipe!, “stupid”?!

I’m still amazed that they parted in good terms, I thought for sure Lili would keep on fuming

¨🦄¨

After trying to get my first residents to spruce up their apartments, with mitigating results...

I mean, the ball, jars and punching sack are all gifts of mine, so that’s cool he’s got them all out at the same time, but that’s still a sad little barren house.

I finally look it up online and discover their houses are actually not supposed to be like this at all! Turns out poor Nacer, Vanessa, Abraham, Renée and Lili are all stuck with generic houses because they got to my island too soon!

This is what Renée’s house should look like! 

So I’ve decided to try and gift them all their true houses’ furniture, little by little. I know they can’t change their wallpapers or floors, but hopefully if I get them the right couches, beds, etc, they’ll display them all. 🤞

[daprojex]

Nigeria Cracks Down on a Critic, and a New Jersey Town Pushes Back

When the Nigerian government went after a prominent detractor in the midst of a broad crackdown on free speech, it didn’t expect to stir resistance 5,000 miles away.

By Ruth Maclean

Dec. 22, 2019, 11:20 a.m. ET

HAWORTH, N.J. — Opeyemi Sowore watched the videos on her phone in bed in her New Jersey home, the children still asleep, the Christmas tree twinkling downstairs.

The videos showed her husband — a former presidential candidate and the publisher of a website known as Africa’s WikiLeaks — being wrestled to the floor in a Nigerian courtroom by a man in a black suit, as lawyers in wigs and gowns crowded around shouting.

The court had ruled that her husband, Omoyele Sowore, should be free on bail while awaiting trial on charges of treason, money laundering and, for criticizing President Muhammadu Buhari on television, cyberstalking. But on Dec. 6, while his wife slept more than 5,000 miles away, Mr. Sowore was taken from the courtroom back into detention, where he has been held for nearly all of the past five months.

Before Mr. Sowore was led away by Nigeria’s equivalent of the Secret Service, he was videotaped saying that these “might be my only words on record before they kill me.” His wife has had no contact with him since.

When Mr. Buhari was elected in 2015 as president of Nigeria, Africa’s most populous country and largest economy, it was hailed as a triumph for democracy. Since then, however, his government has turned toward harsh authoritarianism, putting the country’s thriving civic organizations and news media to the test.

Protests have been met with deadly force. The country’s chief justice was summarily sacked. Humanitarian organizations that criticize the state were threatened with closure, and newspaper offices were raided. One journalist, Jones Abiri, has been in detention so long that for a time, he was thought to be dead.

One bill now making its way through Nigeria’s Senate proposes the death penalty for some instances of “hate speech.” A second, the Anti-Social Media Bill, modeled on a new Singaporean law, calls for government critics to spend as much as three years in prison.

Nigeria is not alone in clamping down on freedom of expression. ​A punitive new security law ​in traditionally media-friendly Burkina Faso, a proposed hate speech measure in Ethiopia, a harsh crackdown in Tanzania and routine internet and social media shutdowns across Africa point to a wider trend toward censorship.

“The people in power just don’t want to have to tolerate the voices of the people,” said Ayisha Osori, head of the Open Society Initiative for West Africa.

African leaders feel emboldened to strangle the news media because of a perceived global rollback in democracy, she said.

Mr. Sowore founded a website in 2006, Sahara Reporters, that specializes in exposing corruption and government malfeasance. With funding from American foundations and about 50 staff members working in Nigeria and the United States, the site’s publication of leaked, often unfiltered information disrupted Nigeria’s traditional media scene.

By basing his operation in New York, Mr. Sowore for years had a degree of protection from the consequences of publishing often scandalous information about Nigeria’s most powerful people. He shuttled between his family home in New Jersey and Nigeria, where he is a citizen, without much interference.

Then, on Aug. 3, in the middle of the night, he was arrested by Nigeria’s Department of State Services, or D.S.S., in his Lagos hotel room.

At first, Opeyemi Sowore told no one in Haworth, a well-off suburb about 20 miles from midtown Manhattan, about her husband’s arrest. None of them knew much about Nigeria, or what Mr. Sowore, known as Yele, did for a living. As far as they were concerned, he was just a dad and a keen runner.

One day, though, texting with another mother with children at the local school, Ms. Sowore explained why her husband had been away so long.

Word traveled fast in Haworth, a town of 3,500 people.

“One mom told another mom, told another mom, told another mom, and next thing we knew we had assembled what really is functioning as a crisis management team,” said Alanna Zahn Davis, one of the mothers in that chain.

If Mr. Buhari’s government had gotten tough, so would Haworth.

A core group of 10 women raised the alarm at the State Department. Then they reached Amal Clooney, the human rights lawyer, who demanded Mr. Sowore’s release. They worked with Amnesty International, which declared him a prisoner of conscience.

Sometimes they prepared meals for Ms. Sowore, a marketing executive, or looked after the couple’s two children. Inspired by an American tradition of using yellow ribbons to remember hostages, they held “Yele ribbon” ceremonies in Haworth’s tree-lined town center, attended by hundreds of people.

After the courtroom melee, they called members of Congress, engaging New Jersey Senators Robert Menendez and Cory Booker. Six members of Congress sent a letter on Friday to Nigeria’s attorney general condemning the treatment of Mr. Sowore.

His detention “will only serve to tarnish Nigeria’s international reputation and its standing as a leading African democracy,” they wrote.

Before his arrest, Mr. Sowore was often accused of favoring Mr. Buhari, even helping him get elected. Sahara Reporters’ relentless exposés of graft under the previous government meant Mr. Buhari’s vow to sweep the country clean of corruption resonated with voters. One of Mr. Buhari’s earliest interviews as president was with Sahara TV.

However, Mr. Buhari’s administration turned out to have a corrupt bent, too, along with authoritarian tendencies, said Chidi Odinkalu, the former chairman of Nigeria’s Human Rights Commission.

“The Buhari administration has proved to be at least as bad, if not much worse” than the prior administration that Mr. Buhari had promised not to emulate, said Mr. Odinkalu, who is facing prosecution himself after he criticized one of the president’s close allies.

This was not a great surprise to those who remember how Mr. Buhari, now 77, first came to power in 1983 as a major general in the wake of a military coup. Before being overthrown in another coup, he jailed hundreds of people, made tardy civil servants do frog jumps and had three men executed.

By the time he was democratically elected three decades later, in 2015, it was on promises to tackle corruption and insecurity. Nigeria was battling Boko Haram, oil theft and violent clashes across the country. He often appeared frail, said little in public and spent many months of his first term being treated for a mysterious illness in London.

Sahara Reporters wrote about the absences and allegations of his allies’ corruption, and Mr. Sowore openly condemned the government for failing to meet its promises. He ran unsuccessfully for president against Mr. Buhari in February, and was preparing to lead a protest calling for revolution when he was arrested on August 3.

At the time, La Keisha Landrum Pierre, Sahara Reporters’ chief operating officer back in New York, was heavily pregnant. When she gave birth five days later, she was managing the company’s biggest crisis ever. It keeps getting bigger.

She said that the Nigerian government had frozen the site’s financial account.

“There have been armed D.S.S. men standing outside our offices” in Nigeria, said Ms. Landrum Pierre, in between calls and meetings in Manhattan. She had to cut the staff by 70 percent, and said that most of the remaining employees, feeling intimidated, were staying at home.

On Dec. 6, the court scheduled Mr. Sowore’s trial for February, but he did not remain free on bail as previously ordered. Instead, Mr. Sowore’s lawyers and family maintain, D.S.S. agents attacked Mr. Sowore while still in the courtroom and ultimately took him back into custody.

The D.S.S. said in a statement that it had rearrested Mr. Sowore because of public comments it claims he made the prior night promising to pursue his cause. A D.S.S. spokesman also claimed that Mr. Sowore’s supporters had staged the courtroom attack and were trying to frame its agents.

Ms. Sowore said that watching the videos made her afraid for his life.

“The hardest part about it for me was — how do I tell my kids?” she said.

They have tried to help. For the Haworth school fair in early December, their 12-year-old daughter Ayo made and sold slime and stress balls, planning to put her profits toward her father’s bail. Her mother had to explain that he had already posted bail, but still wasn’t allowed out. Ayo gave her $80 to Amnesty International instead.

Ten-year-old Komi’s desires are clear from his Christmas list. He wants:

1. A remote-controlled racing car that can climb walls.

2. An Apple watch.

3. His father safely home.

4. A turtle.

[venus-says]

Kamen Rider Gaim Episodes 01-20

Also known as Kame Rider Fruits Salad edition.

It's time for more past rider action as I start my fifth season in this series. I honestly don't know how I'm still doing this, but I'm glad that despite my schedule problems I'm sticking with this journey because this season is a good one.

I was very excited to see this, not just because my experience with Wizard was very positive, but also because I've seen images and gifs being retweeted in my timeline and everything seemed so ridiculous I couldn't wait to experience all of that by myself, and I gotta say, they delivered! (different from that other season I saw people being so passionate about but that I disliked with passion)

And this is something funny because I have quite a lot of things about Gaim that bug me and that should make me dislike it, but even still I can't help but like this season a lot. Gaim has a certain magnetic charm to it that I don't know how to explain, putting in terms of the show I'm like the Inves and Gaim is the evil fruit of the forest taking control of my brain. This show is so entertaining that if I was able to sit down for 72 hours without being interrupted and not needing to do my physical necessities I'd definitely spend those hours watching Gaim, I'm not joking, I had to force myself to stop watching it a couple of times because if it was up to me I would sit down in front of my laptop and leave after the show ended.

And I feel like a huge part of what makes me so interested on Gaim is this mystery feel it has to it, I wanna know where all of this is gonna go so it makes me more interested on watching more and more to see the secrets being revealed and all of that. Add a whole lot of great cliffhangers and the fact this series doesn't seem to follow the "2 episodes, 1 story" format and you make for a show that has a very good pace and that makes it feel like no episode here is filler or unnecessary.

But this is a double-edged sword because while the mystery vibe is great I feel like the show held a whole lot of information at the beginning which made it hard for me to understand this world, and understand these characters. Why is dance so important here? Why do these dance teams exist and why are they fighting each other? When did those lock seeds start appearing? And why are they in the kids' hands? What's Kouta's relation to this dance crew? Why is there a ranking for dancing crews? Why is all of that so important for these characters I'm gonna follow? I watched 20 episodes, still, I feel like I don't know any of the characters very well because neither of them had a very good base for me to have a feel of who these characters are. Which makes it harder for me to connect because I don't feel what the characters are feeling, my experience with Gaim is a very "external" one, I'm watching it and I'm enjoying it a lot but I'm not emotionally invested, I think that's the best way to put it.

Speaking of characters, another thing that I feel like it makes it harder to know all characters is the fact that THERE ARE A LOT OF THEM. No joke, I don't know any of their names and the only Rider name I have memorized is Gaim because of obvious reasons, the way I have to connect the characters to their faces is by their main fruit, which solves things for the characters that are Riders but the side characters that don't they literally have no name for me, any given name you see in this post is because I opened the wikia and went to look for the names. This is a very crowded season.

Kouta as a protagonist gives me a lot of mixed feelings. I overall like him, but that are times where the show makes me want to hate him, but I guess that's just how teenagers so the show has perfectly hit the nail on him. I like how he starts as a good kid trying to get a job to help support his family, but then he becomes a rider and that gets up to his head and he becomes an overconfident prick just to have his ass kicked down and throw him on a downward spiral where he "refuses the call" to then have a moment where he slowly rises again, and even in this escalation he gets doubtful in quite a lot of times showing that he's a very interesting character. I only wish we knew more basic stuff about him, or at least have glimpses of his past, to know where did he came from and be able to have an estimative of where he's going to.

Sadly the other characters aren't anywhere near being this interesting. Kaito is just the hot-blooded rival, they decided to give him a backstory about he being anger at Yggdrasil for taking over the city but I think it only made him look more like just a teen with anger management issues rather than a compelling character. Mitchy had potential with the whole thing of being a kid from a rich family that has no freedom in regards to his future, but he more or less always followed the things I expected him to do as a character in his position so it was just a little boring. Near the end of this batch, Zack became a rider too but he's such a background character I have nothing to say about him. Junouchi and Hase lacked in personality because they were sold as a duo and they barely did anything on their own, Hase at least got more interesting things going for him since he eventually ate a fruit and died as an Inves what made him interesting where Junouchi just ended up being the keychain of another rider... and oh boy, Oren... it's kinda hard to talk about him. I'm not sure if "gay coded" is the correct term for him, probably not, but the thing is he's very problematic. First, because the show kinda sits in with Kouta's point of view and since the first meeting Kouta already showed signs that he didn't like him and that it was weird for him to see a flamboyant man with feminine trajects and he was always negative towards him. Then the show makes him be a Team Rocket villain where his character gets downed to a single goal and objective and every time he gets up on the screen is for him to be made fun of and it just makes me wanna hit my head on the wall. I know I shouldn't be surprised since last season they had the manager of Hungry Donuts that was also an LGBTQ+ character being used for comedic purposes, but at least in there, there was no portrayal of any character of the cast being uncomfortable or hostile against her so she was never seen with bad eyes or had any negative association to her (they also had a trans actor play her role which is an added bonus even though she wasn't out yet during the time of filming).

The show also has a "second set" of riders that are the adults on Yggdrasil's side. I feel like I don't have a lot to say about them because they were in the backseat a lot during the season and only started to have a more active role on screen now so I still don't have an opinion on them. Takatora seems bland, Sid was the one of this team that had more screen time but I also don't have an opinion on him, he's just like a drug dealer there's nothing special about him other than he uses one of my favorite fruits in his rider form. Ryoma and Yoko are probably the more interesting characters from this team and I'm really excited to see more of them.

There are more characters of this cast but I don't like any of them all that much so I won't spend more time talking about them, I'll talk briefly about the Riders' designs because this post is already long enough.

To begin with, I think it's a genius idea of mixing fruits with samurais for the main motifs of the riders, it's such a ridiculous, wild, and creative idea I wish I could be friends with whoever imagined this concept. I pretty much like all of the suits, I think the only form I don't like it's the Jimba Lemon one because it's not very aesthetically pleasing, it doesn't match very well with Gaim's basic design so it doesn't look as good to me, but I also don't like the giant watermelon suit, probably because the CGI looks weird, but I still don't like it. I love how the belts are very simple, it's a good contrast with the overly designed suits, I wish they had kept that simplicity for the genesis drivers as well. If I had to choose my favorite designs they are Gaim's strawberry, Baron's mango, Zangetsu's melon, Duke's lemon, and Marika's peach forms.

Before I wrap up this post I have two final complaints about this whole thing. The first one is the fact I don't know what's the message the show is trying to convey. Right at the beginning, I thought it was about growing up, but that was never touched again so I'm not sure if it's that, you know? The show feels a little lost in this aspect. It is a nice story, don't get me wrong, but all stories so far had a theme and I couldn't really find the theme on this one yet. I hope that after the reveal that the forest is like a parasite they'll bring up discussions that'll highlight what this is story is about.

My other problem is how against adults the show is. Maybe if I had watched this in my teenage years I'd be more in synchrony with the point of view of adults are liars and they're a problem, but now as an adult, I know that things aren't so simple. While I agree that using kids to gather data for their experiments wasn't the right course of action, I don't like how the protagonists are always so keen on being against adults and everything. Maybe they're like this because of how Japanese society is and to them becoming adults is like losing the sense of their own identities so to them adults are really like villains, but I still think that they hit too much on this key and it's kinda hard to watch without rolling my eyes at certain points.

With that being said, I still enjoyed the hell out of this show and I'm very excited to continue. So, what are your thoughts about Gaim, let me know down in the comments. I'll catch up with you folks later.

[brittanafanfichelp]

Really interested in knowing what your top 10 brittana fics are!! Thank you for doing what you’re doing! :)

Turns out it’s pretty much impossible for me to decide on just 10 Brittana fics….but I did manage to narrow it down! So heres my top 20, I hope thats alright too

In no particular order though, I barely managed to narrow it down to 20, no way I can also rank them. I’m really bad at this, I’m sorry lol.

Set the World on Fire by Cora709For six months Santana has been living in New York City with Kurt and Rachel, but now Brittany has received her diploma and is finally coming to join them. Can new relationships accommodate old ones? And can the past ever really be recaptured?

Only Time Will Tell by sadieredNationally-ranked American figure skaters Brittany Pierce and Santana Lopez train as Olympic hopefuls. “It is fresh and it is fruitful if I win, but if I lose. Oh, I don’t know." 

Taking The Long Way by Lingering LiliesSantana’s journey toward self-acceptance through love, loss, friends, career and family. Contains Glee history through "Original Song.” Rated M for sex. 

Tattoo by littleoases“She soaks it in for a few seconds—this night, this place, these friends, this family room floor, this girl—before she says it back.” Post-3x11. Brittana.

Any Sort of Blue Sky by themostrandomfandomBrittany and Santana find ways to love each other, no matter what their situation. Five Mouseverse vignettes.

You Instead by your-street-serenadeBrittana AU. Two feuding rockstars handcuffed together for 24 hours. A rock and roll love story set against an unforgettable lost weekend at a music festival, filled with lust, mud, betrayal, porta potties and a hundred thousand people partying to the greatest music in the world.

We’re Just Getting Started by lizbeanBrittany and Santana are married with twins. Join Quinn’s journey as she learns about herself, relationships and parenting from Brittana. Unholy Trinity friendship.

They Bring Me Back by wherehopeliesSantana Lopez lives an average life in New York as a bartender. When gorgeous Brittany and Santana’s teenage niece fall into her lap, things get interesting.

Somewhere in Brooklyn by MartianThoughtsSantana and Brittany have been trying to get pregnant for a year without any luck. What happens when a teenage foster child and positive pregnancy test land in their laps on the same day? A unique journey of motherhood ensues.

Piece By Piece by LeighKellyWhen pediatric surgeon Santana Lopez meets Dr. Brittany Pierce, head of plastic surgery, in the elevator during a blackout at the hospital, she’s immediately hit with a sense of disdain. Little does she know that she’ll be the first person to show her what love looks like, and change her life for good.

My Girlfriend’s Sister’s Keeper by bodybrokeBrittany isn’t the only Pierce that has Santana wrapped around her finger. Santana’s life with her two favorite people.

In My Life I Love You More by superrocketableFuturefic! 10 years on running into old school friends throws up a few suprises :D rated M due to language

be my fire in the cold (and I’ll be waiting by the mistletoe) by Echoes-of-RealitiesWhen the production stage manager for George Balanchine’s The Nutcracker, starring one Brittany S. Pierce, is fired seven shows into its run, Santana is hired and thrown into the production with barely any preparation.

And I’m Calling You to Be My Lifeline by daysofinspirationTina isn’t sure how Santana manages to mix her number with the crisis helpline, but now that it’s happened she is determined to do everything she can to help. Santina friendship, Brittana

You Gave Me the Word, I Finally Heard by LeighKellyWhen Brittany Pierce was seven, a near drowning experience left her profoundly deaf. For twenty-two years, she’s lived in a quiet solitude, her mother’s response to her accident leaving her wary of building relationships. She’s content with her life, her career, her home with her service dog Otis, until she quite literally runs into Santana Lopez…and then everything changes.

Rent My Pussy by soulpicnicLonely? Call 1-800-BSPUSSY.

Reasons that I Laugh and Breathe by klikeszombiesAU. Brittany goes to college and meets Santana and the rest of New Directions. Even though life has been hard so far, and even though bad things still happen, she regrets nothing that has brought her here.

I Know You Wanna Touch by bugstoriesBrittana AU - Brittany and Santana are both in their mid-twenties, meeting in a fancy bar in New York City. The chemistry is there, but how will Santana react when she finds out that the mysterious blonde is in fact an escort? Will she give her a chance?

Burn The Whore House (To The Ground) by IceRose92In a world where sex slavery is the norm, Santana is sold to a wealthy man who hopes that her company can help mend his daughter’s broken spirit. Can a master who doesn’t believe in the slave trade and a slave who only wants to be loved let go of their troubled pasts? AU Brittana (very small mentions of Faberry, Puckurt, Tike, and Samcedes)

To Wish Possible Things by bodybrokeAfter the events at Mr. Schue’s wedding, Brittany and Santana have a long overdue conversation about what exactly went wrong in their relationship, and start trying to fix it, with a little help from their friends.

[norafinds]

The Story of Bertha

Often when I put together an outfit I create a character to go with it. This Edwardian outfit I created for Bertha, a schoolteacher in Australia in 1913. She loved science and photography and was secretly building a time machine to travel into the future. She failed, destroying the shed behind the school where she conducted her experiments. Despite that the headmistress couldn't let her go due to the lack of qualified teachers. No one really knew where she came from though. She had a slight English accent, and some presumed she was a daughter of a wealthy Chinese official. Some thought she was a second generation Chinese-Australian whose parents came over during the gold rush. Her students, however, were convinced she was a spy.

Top - Antique Edwardian silk top - eBay

Skirt - Antique Edwardian taffeta skirt - eBay

Brooch - Antique Victorian name brooch - market

Hat - Vintage 1950s - gifted

I admit I got a bit creative there, but it was fun to create this mysterious personality. I got the name Bertha from the antique Victorian name brooch. Most of you would've already heard about how I got it, but for you who hadn't I got it at a vintage market local to my in-laws and I had to have it because it bears the name of my maternal grandmother. The real Bertha grew up in Indonesia under Dutch occupation and was given her Catholic name at school. She married my grandfather in her early 20s, completely smitten by this older man (he was in his 40s) who was twice widowed with 6 grown-up kids. Yet she got over that fact and bore him 4 other children, the second youngest being my mother. When my grandfather passed away my mother was only 6 and grandma Bertha really struggled to make ends meet. My grandmother passed away many years ago and because she was poor she didn't leave behind a lot of material possession. When I found the brooch at that fair, I genuinely believed I was guided to it by my grandmother's spirit. It was a vintage fair with many stalls, and yet I found this brooch in a random cabinet amongst hundred other items. She wanted me to have something that makes me think of her, and indeed I do think of her all the time.

I don't often wear Edwardian fashion, but lately I've really been enjoying finding pictures of POC wearing Western Edwardian fashion on Pinterest (follow me here) and I was inspired by this skirt I got a few months ago. It was originally sold to me as a 1950s skirt but I'm quite sure now that it is an Edwardian petticoat. The top itself is an antique Edwardian silk top (another eBay find) but the silk is shattered all over and it's quite fragile. I spent quite a lot of time strengthening/covering the rips with mending tape as I really wanted to get to wear it at least once. I also had to add some backing onto the closure bit and redid the loops for the hooks. It's a bit too fragile for a proper day out, but maybe one day it can retire happily framed in a corner of my apartment. I am happy I put an effort into fixing it to a wearable state and even happier that my husband and I managed to wake up early one weekend and took photos. We also used his analogue camera but we haven't got the film developed so I will post a second batch of photos in the near future.

[pixelgrotto]

Schattenjäger Archives

The Gabriel Knight series is something special. I knew it when I played the first one, Sins of the Fathers, nearly 20 years ago and was so entranced by its story of a roguish mystery writer solving a conspiracy of voodoo murders that I was inspired to write a poem based on the game’s themes. (Here it is, dug up from the depths of my old PC for your viewing pleasure. It ain’t bad considering that I wrote it in the 8th grade.) I even considered applying to Tulane University for college so I could be in New Orleans, the site of the first game’s events, and I know from trawling through various message boards and YouTube channels that I’m not the only one who’s been bitten by the bug to see the scenes of Gabriel’s meanderings in person. This is a series of thrillers, with heavily researched plots similar to things that might’ve made The New York Times’ bestseller list back in 1996, and one of the main strengths that differentiated Gabriel Knight from other adventure games of the era - which were largely content with make-believe settings - were the real-world locations, from the most famous city in Louisiana to Bavaria to a tiny vale in France. Each of these locales seemed to come so vibrantly alive, teeming with delicious darkness just waiting to be expunged. 

Much of this is due to the effort of series matriarch Jane Jensen, a novelist who just so happened to fall into the adventure game business at Sierra in the 90s. Jane serves as a nice example of a video game creator who’s an actual writer and not just a designer trying to be a writer, and after helping the company produce the best King’s Quest game (KQVI), she won the right to make her own series. Gabriel Knight was the result, and the franchise would go on to span three games, plus a remake, detailing the adventures of the titular schattenjäger, or “shadow hunter,” as he tackles aspects of the supernatural across the world. 

I went and played through each game over the past month. (I also read the paperback novelizations that Jane wrote for games one and two - you can read my reviews on Goodreads here and here.) There are some warts, mostly due to your typical silly adventure game puzzles of the 90s that were designed to sell hint books, but by far and large, the writing and characterization that Jane put on display make up for these shortcomings. The first entry, Sins of the Fathers, intertwines a voodoo cult with an exploration of Gabriel’s German heritage and features perhaps the best implementation of Sierra’s classic “icon bar” interface. The second, The Beast Within, is nowadays known as one of the few good FMV titles to emerge from an era where the video game industry was frightfully obsessed with emulating Hollywood, and boasts an intricate plot that somehow manages to tie werewolves into the legends of the “mad” king of Bavaria, Ludwig II. The third and last game in the saga, Blood of the Sacred, Blood of the Damned, is probably the one that’s aged the worse, with frumpy polygonal graphics, an odd interface that’s emblematic of how early 3D games just didn’t know what to do with their cameras, and some truly mind-numbing puzzles - including an infamous one involving cat fur and a mustache that got criticized for “killing” adventure games back in 1999. Nevertheless, it still manages to tell a cool tale of the Knights Templar, the Freemasons, the blood of Jesus Christ and vampires, though the bloodsuckers are admittedly underdeveloped compared to the voodoo practitioners and werewolves of entries one and two. 

A Gabriel Knight 4 was never made, and it wasn’t due to the cat mustache puzzle. Adventure games simply fell out of favor at the dawn of the 2000s, and Sierra was eventually sold off and quite depressingly went out of business soon afterwards. Jane Jensen dabbled in the casual games industry for a while before mostly disappearing to work on books until 2014, when she used Kickstarter funds to produce a 20th Anniversary remake of Sins of the Fathers, hoping to summon up enough new interest in the schattenjäger to possibly revive the series for real. Despite solid reviews, the sales numbers of the remake didn’t quite translate into cold, hard cash (an unfortunate phenomenon that’s plagued every Gabriel Knight game, not just the 20th anniversary rehash), and it seems that barring a miracle, a proper GK4 will never materialize. Jane Jensen also appears content to write gay erotica under her pen name of Eli Easton for the time being, since novels about handsome men sexing each other apparently yield more consistent sales numbers. Ah well. 

There’s a lot to love in the Gabriel Knight franchise, from the aforementioned historical research that went into each game’s plot, to the Elton John-influenced soundtracks done by Jane’s husband Robert Holmes, to the fact that Gabriel was voiced by frickin’ Tim Curry in Sins of the Fathers and Blood of the Sacred, Blood of the Damned, to the highly likable Grace Nakimura, Gabriel’s Japanese American assistant who provides a foil to her occasionally dickish boss and also serves as one of the earliest and realest examples of a playable woman of color in interactive entertainment. (At one point in the third game, she receives an email from her overly anxious Asian mother about how she needs to get married or go back to graduate school, which is one of the most relatable things I’ve seen in a video game.) Fans of the series would go on to honor these themes in mysterious ways, and Wadjet Eye’s Blackwell games and Kathy Rain are prime examples of titles made by independent creators who were obviously heavily influenced by Jane Jensen’s work. On a slightly different personal level, even I’ve done my part in keeping the spirit alive - the main character I recently created to play in the tabletop Call of Cthulhu roleplaying game is essentially a 1920s version of Gabriel Knight with glasses. 

Prior to the release of the Sins of the Fathers remaster, Jane Jensen put out a short story called The Temptation that was eventually turned into an online comic. It details the beginning of a new adventure for Mr. Knight, loosely based off of concepts involving ghosts and witches that Jane was originally going to use for the fourth entry in the series. Gabriel appears more driven than ever in the span of its pages. Even if he never receives another game, the schattenjäger is still out there, keeping watch over Schloss Ritter, prepping for the next macabre mission into the heart of darkness. May he succeed, may he be reunited with Grace, and until that miracle occurs and Gabriel Knight 4 becomes a reality, perhaps this is the best possible way to remember him. 

Artwork and screenshots assembled from the promotional materials and respective MobyGames pages for each game. All courtesy of Sierra and Pinkerton Road Studio.