#private info...sold

[ishikawayukis]

was talking to my mom about how the adoption process worked when they adopted my brother and man some people truly are just scum

[odinsblog]

🗣️ This is for all new internet connected cars

A new study has found that your car likely knows more about you than your mom. That is disconcerting, but what’s even more so is what is being done with your information. It’s all about the Benjamins. Our private information is being collected and sold.

The Mozilla Foundation, a non-profit that studies internet and privacy issues, studied 25 car manufacturers. And it found every manufacturer sold in America poses a greater risk to your privacy than any device, app or social media platform.

Our cars are rolling computers, many of which are connected to the internet collecting information about how you drive and where. New cars also have microphones and sensors that give you safety features like automatic braking and drowsy driver detection. Those systems are also providing information. Got GPS or satellite radio? Then your car likely knows your habits, musical and political preferences.

Did you download your car’s app which gives you access to even more features? Well that also gives your car access to your phone and all the information on it.

The study found that of the 25 car brands, 84% say they sell your personal data.

And what they collect is astounding.

One example the study sites is KIA’s privacy policy. It indicates the company collects information about your sexual activity. I initially didn’t believe it until I pulled KIA’s privacy policy and read it. And it’s right there in black and white. It says it collects information about your “ethnicity, religious, philosophical beliefs, sexual orientation, sex life, or political opinions.

And it says it can keep your info for “as long as is necessary for the legitimate business purpose set out in this privacy notice.”

Translation: Nissan can keep your information as long as they want to. And more than half of the manufacturers (56%) say they will share your information with law enforcement if asked.

(continue reading) more ↵

[artifacts-and-arthropods]

Emerald Spectacles from India, c. 1620-1660 CE: the lenses of these spectacles were cut from a single emerald, and the original, uncut stone weighed more than 300 carats

These eyeglasses are also known by the name Astaneh-e ferdaws, meaning "Gate of Paradise," based on the symbolic associations between the color green and the concept of spiritual salvation or "paradise." Those associations, which are rooted in Islamic tradition, were especially common in Mughal India.

The lenses were crafted from two thin slices of the same emerald. Together, the lenses have a combined weight of about 27 carats, but given the precision, size, and shape of each lens, experts believe that the original emerald likely weighed in excess of 300 carats (more than sixty grams) before it was cleaved down in order to produce the lenses.

The emerald was found at a mine in Muzo, Colombia, and it was then transported across the Atlantic by Spanish or Portuguese merchants.

Each lens is encircled by rose-cut diamonds, which run along an ornate frame made of gold and silver. This diamond-studded frame was installed during the late 1800s, when modern stylistic elements were incorporated into the original pince-nez design.

The "Gate of Paradise" spectacles are often accompanied by a second pair of eyeglasses that were created during the same period, and they were almost certainly commissioned by the same person; these other spectacles are known by the name Halqeh-e nur, meaning "Halo of Light," and they feature lenses that were cleaved from a single diamond.

It's estimated that the original, uncut diamond weighed about 200-300 carats, which would make it one of the largest uncut diamonds ever discovered.

The lenses are so clear and so flat that they sometimes seem almost invisible.

Both sets of spectacles date back to the mid-1600s, and it's believed that they were commissioned by a Mughal emperor or prince. The identity of that person is still a bit of a mystery, but it has been widely speculated that the patron was Shah Jahan -- the Mughal ruler who famously commissioned the Taj Mahal after the death of his wife, Mumtaz Mahal. Shah Jahan ruled as the Mughal emperor from about 1628 to 1658.

The emerald and diamond lenses may have served some symbolic, sentimental, or cultural purpose, or they may have been chosen simply because they're pretty and extravagant. Their original purpose and significance remains unclear, but there is evidence to suggest that the spectacles were actually designed to be worn by someone.

Mystical properties have long been attributed to these spectacles; it's believed that they can promote healing, ward off evil, impart wisdom, and/or bring the wearer closer to enlightenment. Those beliefs mostly stem from Indic and Islamic traditions that associate each of the gemstones with specific spiritual qualities. Emeralds are associated with spiritual salvation, healing, cleansing, and eternal life, while diamonds are associated with enlightenment, wisdom, celestial light, and mysticism.

The "Gate of Paradise" and the "Halo of Light" spectacles were both kept in the collections of a wealthy Indian family until 1980, when they were sold to private collectors, and they were then put up for auction once again in 2021. They were most recently valued at about $2 million to $3.4 million per pair.

Sources & More Info:

Sotheby's: Mughal Spectacles

Architectural Digest of India: At Sotheby's auction, Mughal-era eyeglasses made of diamond and emerald create a stir

Only Natural Diamonds: Auspicious Sight & the Halqeh-e Nur Spectacles

The Royal Society Publishing: Cleaving the Halqeh-Ye Nur Diamonds

Gemological Institution of America: Two Antique Mughal Spectacles with Gemstone Lenses

Manuscript: From Satan's Crown to the Holy Grail: emeralds in myth, magic, and history

CNN: The $3.5 million Spectacles Said to Ward off Evil

BBC: Rare Mughal Era Spectacles to be Auctioned by Sotheby's

[garnetdawn]

throwback to that one psychosis I had that made me design a bunch of d&d characters out of moths

(all sold privately)

my work & commission info

[roseglazedlens]

⦑ THE FUCKING DEAD ⦒ 𝐏𝐫𝐨𝐥𝐨𝐠𝐮𝐞

➠ series masterlist | 🔃girl’s route | 🔃boy’s route |

𝐒𝐌𝐔𝐓┇𝐇𝐎𝐑𝐑𝐎𝐑┇𝐃𝐀𝐑𝐊𝐅𝐈𝐂┇𝐂𝐇𝐎𝐎𝐒𝐄 𝐘𝐎𝐔𝐑 𝐀��𝐕𝐄𝐍𝐓𝐔𝐑𝐄 LEON S. KENNEDY & CARLOS OLIVEIRA X AFAB GN! READER ADA WONG & JILL VALENTINE X AFAB GN! READER chapter synopsis: You are amongst the top five selected for this infiltration to take down Glenn Arias. An argument unfolds between the agents and you are forced to pick a side. chapter content: smut in next chapter, resident evil: vendetta spoilers, zombies, haunted mansion, explicit themes throughout this series. a/n: welcome to my second series!! (need to finish my first one oops) on a thursday one month ago, i thought to myself 'zombie threesome hehehe', then i took the idea and sprinted with it and this series is born. so, uh... zombiefuckers rise up?? « 3.3 k words | general masterlist | ao3 | reblogs appreciated! »

Millions are dying—Mass infections are happening across the globe swamping the streets with an unbeknownst fear. The symptoms of this virus are faint, indecipherable next to an x-ray of a man who is perfectly healthy. Not even the carrier themselves are aware of how the virus lies underneath their veins, dormant, until a click of button is pressed from a commander far away, then their symptoms worsen: a headache, a cold, veins turning purple as the poison hatches in them, spreading, until the only thing that can manoeuvre their limbs is the word: KILL.

That’s the greatest strength of this virus. Anyone can be infected, and maybe, you already are.

This product first reached the underground market three months ago. Called the A-Virus; a bioweapon succeeded in the market for its ability to infect targeted communities remotely and leaving no evidence on the perpetrator, which no other distributors had successfully produced before.

Engineered by Glenn Arias, the researcher sold over thousands of this bioweapon, becoming a billionaire overnight at the cost of lives lost from the whims of the rich. He supplied the wealthy and corrupted, like insatiable brats, with new remote-controlled monster trucks, who only aims to tear down families and have their victims beg mercy to a monster that will not speak reason.

Hence, this problem brought attention to a global scale, having the DSO come in alliance with the BSAA and other independent mercenaries to hunt down the vaccine and put a stop to Arias’ grand schemes. Handpicking five agents who are equipped with both experience and skill to combat a zombie attack on this scale of doom and urgency.

Those five agents are Jill Valentine, Carlos Oliveira, Leon S. Kennedy, Ada Wong, and you.

A plan is already in place. A distraction concocted with your intel and the help of a senior researcher of all things bioweapons, Rebecca Chambers. While Arias is busy attending fake business meetings on the other side of the world, the five of you will infiltrate his private mansion to retrieve a concentrated sample of the A-Virus. Rebecca can use the sample to reverse engineer it into a cure and send her findings to facilities across the world.

The plan sounds brilliant in writing, but when you arrived his private mansion in Queretaro region, Mexico, something is off about this place.

Arias is a mastermind, you had been warned many times, in which you appropriately prepared all your best gear for this mission to treat it with utmost gravity. You’re thinking armed guards, well-equipped security, BOWs. But when the five of you pushed open the front doors of his mansion, it was quiet.

Empty. Not a single soul. Just five of you greeted by the whisk of wind through weakly hinged windows that somehow makes the humid air stick to your skin further. Did Rebecca get the wrong info? No one lived there. From what you heard when you were in town, not even the locals dare to venture anywhere near the odd gothic mansion on the top of the hill. They said it’s abandoned, cursed, rumoured to whisk away young children if they ever step foot inside.

It’s a story they say to stop the naughty kids, you remind yourself. It’s not haunted. And you’re not a kid anymore.

The inside is abandoned. Cobwebs lay thick between cornices and carved columns, the floors laced with a film of dust on the luxurious dark wood flooring, creaking with worn age as you take each step. Besides the chandelier, every single piece of furniture is either the same colour of black or red, or nothing else. The soft red velvet upholstery and the rug are made with the same fabric. And you can find the same dark wood in every corner of this house. It’s in the tables, the shelves, the chaise, the painting frames, and stone-like head sculpture whittled with the same exact dark wood, ridged the exact uniform way.

Then, you look at the wall. Black patches of mould smearing across the burgundy wallpaper like a crime scene.

Something creaks behind you. The hair on your arms stands up as you shiver, immediately followed by a wave of embarrassment. Despite the number of times you had taken down hordes of incoming zombies like they’re cardboard targets, why is a bit of wind freaking you out? It’s not a ghost, just old foundations, maybe mice, or wind kicking something off a table, like how every old house sounds like. You look around to see if anyone else catches you jumping at nothing, before Jill says, thankfully unaware of your worry:

“God, the smell. What have they done to this place?” Her hand flies over her nose as if that will help to shield any smell whatsoever. Unfortunately, the building is moulded far beyond salvageable that the stench lingers in every part of the mansion.

“I’m sure it’s not that bad. We get weeks-old corpses in body bags every day. It’s absolutely retching.” Jill’s earpiece fizzes into life, and she recognises the familiar playful lilt of Rebecca’s voice on the other side of the line.

“At least that’s refrigerated and contained, Rebecca. This fucking stinks.” Jill scrunches her face like she just ate something unpleasant.

“I’m sending my sympathies from my well-conditioned lab right now.”

Carlos appears from Jill’s behind, placing a firm, teasing hand on top of Jill’s shoulder. His wavy curls catch in the wind and his teeth glistens sparkly white. “Yeah Jill, got a problem with my natural musk?”

Jill shrugs his hand off, grimacing at his attempts at flirtation. “Take a shower first, then we’ll talk.”

In which Carlos laughs, holds his hand out at his heart as if it was just torn into shreds. “That hurts my feelings, Jill. Why aren’t you ever saying things like that to pretty boy over there?”

“I have a name, Oliveira.” The blond man turns around at the call of his nickname, familiar with the nickname, but it's not pleasantly received by him.

“I think pretty boy suits you more, Kennedy.” Carlos replies, a glint in his voice that hints something a bit less than friendliness between them.

“Ah, so you do know my name.” Leon quips back while staring directly into Carlos’ eyes, before getting cut off by Jill.

“I would, Carlos, but if I have to hear one more corny ass comeback from Leon’s mouth, I’ll throw myself out the window right now.”

“Takes a genius to get my humour.” Leon smirks.

Your eyebrows raise almost immediately to chime in. “Erm… I think we have different meanings for the word ‘genius’.”

Quiet chuckles ripple through the room. It helps that you have worked with these guys throughout the years and had come to know and get close to them—some a bit closer than just friends—but none of them are strangers by far. Usually, you would be working with only one or two of these guys, never in a big group like this, but it seems that everyone is already well-acquainted with each other.

You toss a glance at Carlos and catch him staring at you, smiling. Ah, you see now. Carlos must have been trying to lighten the mood because you had been jumpy ever since you had arrived. You nod at him, a silent thank you before the five of you venture deeper into the eerie atmosphere.

The goal is to arrive at Glenn Aria’s office. According to Rebecca’s intel, Arias hid a concentrated sample in a safe last time he was here. You will need Ada to crack the safe to retrieve the sample and deliver it to Rebecca. As you traverse the corridors, it twists and turns in different directions—whoever engineered this did not enjoy unexpected guests at all. But under Rebecca’s guidance, she walks you and your team through the labyrinth with ease and precision.

But unfortunately, not ease and precision on your part. You trip over your own leg and almost fall to the floor as you round a harsh turn according to Rebecca’s instructions, and Jill catches you right on the arm before you fall.

“Easy there.” Jill pulls you up the ground, and you regain some balance. “You good? Mind your step.”

“Why did I agree to babysit?” Ada speaks, finally, for the first time in this mission. Despite how quietly she spoke under her breath, her words abruptly cut through the air, and all attention is on her and the red sweater dress that curves into her frame perfectly now.

“Oh, I bet once you get your paycheck it will be worth it. Or will you be betraying us, huh, Ada?”

Leon smirks loudly. Ada’s face goes from tired to exhausted in one second. “You just can’t let bygones be bygones, can you?”

“That’s rich coming from someone who used to work for Wesker.” Ada’s heels come to a stop, and with a slow turn, she stares deeply into Leon’s eyes that speak a million threats without needing to be utter a word. Oh, and believe me, you do not want to be messing with Ada. You learnt that the hard way.

“Woah, guys. Let’s keep this civil. No need to get heated.” Carlos rushes to stand right between them as the duo glares at each other with passionate fury and resentment.

You nod, joining Carlos’ side to stand by him. “Carlos’s right. This is not the time to pick a fight.” But it falls on the deaf ears of Leon and Ada.

“Thousands were killed. I want what’s good for the people, and I’m not sure Ada here is on the same page.” Leon continues, adding fuel to the fire.

Ada lets out a disbelieved gasp in response, before recollecting herself and replying in her usual tone of calmness: “Someone has to pay the price. I’m just the executor.”

“Regardless of our motivations, we all are on the same side here.” Carlos attempts at resolution again, putting his hands up in between them, and fails embarrassingly once more.

The air is heated with hostility; Leon and Ada’s eyes are locked in a trance, a hazy spite that reigns their composure, that looking away from each other means forfeiting. You don’t see either of them walking away first, they are both prideful people after all.

“Uh… Jill? Some help?” Carlos looks around to find Jill, who is leaning against a wall, her arms relaxing by her sides, unphased by the fire stirring right in front of the crowd.

“Not my circus, not my monkeys.” Jill is merely waiting for either one of the parties roll over.

You feel speckles of flame through the two of them, as if steam is retreating over the top of their heads, burning not just them, but also everyone else in the room. Until the boiling point hits, and it erupts all in one second. The duo walks away, off to different directions in bitter adrenaline, until you and Carlos are just looking at each other.

“I guess we’ll take five. There’s a safe room up ahead.” Carlos is speaking, but you’re the one listening.

The five of you enters the safe room in silence. It is a storage room—despite its name, it’s quite large for a normal storage room—with boxes stacked on all ends that made the room seem smaller in comparison. A ceiling light illuminates the room dimly, but it isn’t enough to shade away years of old animosity from their past.

The lively conversations you had mere minutes ago is gone now. Just silence and awkward rustling as each of you sits in your own designated corner. Carlos and Jill find themselves a seat on top of a firm box. Leon and Ada giving each other the silent treatment, standing on farthest end of the room to each other. You are simply minding your own business, gathering materials to craft a flashbang to pass the time. Doesn’t hurt to have more supplies anyway.

There is a notable division on each side, an imaginary alliance that you choose to be on neither side. Until Leon crosses the boundary line, somehow making his way to you. He picks up an empty grenade case next to you, assembling the pieces together for your project.

“Sorry you had to see that.” A little guilt tugs at Leon’s voice.

“Not at all. I get why you felt that way.” Leon nods, a look of gratitude hanging softly through a smile. His other finger seals the flashbang cap and hands it back to you. “But you need to learn to control your temper. Especially when it comes to Ada.”

Speaking of Ada, a shiver runs down your spine suddenly. The feeling of someone sending laser signs and telepathic warnings towards you. You turn around towards the direction of the aura to find Ada, her back leaning against the wall, arms crossed without engaging or acknowledging anyone in the room. She stands by herself alone, and that’s how you had always known Ada—distant and in her own mysterious world. Not really a chatter, despite the number of times she had saved you in the past.

Ada does not look at you, but you can feel her glaring down—either you or Leon—with her entire body.

“Good to see the two of you getting along at least.” Carlos holds out two plastic water bottles to you two from a supply crate he found in the room, which Jill has finished downing two of them already.

You two gesture ‘no thanks.’ Ada does not spare Carlos a glance at his direction when he offers.

“You’re welcome, I guess.” Carlos says sarcastically, before taking in a generous sip from his drink.

There’s a moment of silence. Then, a moment of dry coughs; a squeak of footsteps, a joint click from a stretching neck. Then silence once more.

“I’ve had enough.” Jill slaps her hands on her thigh before pushing herself up from her seat. “You guys gonna keep acting like kids? Grow up, this isn’t high school anymore. Take your drama outside. If we’re gonna take down Arias, we have to get along. And yes, that means moving on from shit that happened… five years ago? Five years ago and you two are still hung up? Unlike you all, I’m actually looking forward to go home and get a decent shower, hopefully soon.”

You nod in approval as Jill speaks her mind, and you are glad at least the few of you have their priorities in order. Ada flicks her head away from Jill, but her silence is telling of how much she is thinking over Jill’s words.

“Leon, can you accept this?” Jill asks.

There’s a bit of reluctance in his voice, but he agrees anyway. “Fine.”

“Ada?”

Before Ada can respond, smoke is creeping into your vision, coming in quick. It merges into your view, obscuring it, and you whiff something artificial, some kind of chemicals that is piercing to your nose and eyes. You can’t help but wince, hands groping the air in attempts to find comfort in the person closest to you—anyone for that matter—to indicate you’re safe and is indeed not under attack. Your fingers find themselves in a fistful of someone’s shirt, muscles tensing tightly underneath the fabric on their shoulder cap.

“Leon. Is that you?” You cry out.

“It’s me. Stay close and don’t let go. It’s an ambush.” Leon pulls your arm towards him, securing your safety with his hand in yours.

There is some coughing through the air, faint panic in voices underneath the hissing of gas that seems to be coming from above. You hold onto Leon a bit tighter.

Carlos calls out desperately “Where are you guys? Is everyone okay?” as he flaps his hand around the smoke to stir it away. He finds you and Leon almost immediately, and looks down to your hands, finding them clasped tight against each other. Your hand lets go of Leon flying behind your back, but Carlos already saw it.

Jill is coughing deep from the smoke. “I-I’m here!”

“It seems like we’re all here.” Ada says, composed as ever despite the circumstances.

The smoke dissipates—until most of the fog fades away, escaping through the cracks underneath the door to the other side. Leaving the five of you standing in the same storage room darting eyes around, seemingly unharmed, and even more confused.

After what feels like a while later, Jill finally breaks the silence: “Huh. What was that?”

“No enemies.” Ada unholsters the pistol from her belt, inspecting the room and the door behind the room. “Clear on this side too.”

It’s strange. If this is an ambush, why isn’t there an attack?

Leon places a finger on his earpiece to activate his microphone. “Rebecca, come in. We’ve just been ambushed by some kind of smoke, but nobody’s hurt. Happen to know what’s going on?”

His earpiece buzzes into life. “Hmm, let’s see. From the architecture plans, I see the vents are connected to a lab below. It seems abandoned, there are no signs of anyone triggering an attack on my end.”

“Whatever it is, we need to investigate.” Leon’s voice is firm and serious. “I’ve got a bad feeling about this.”

You swallow deeply, fear settling back inside you. “You think it’s a trap?”

“I think…” Leon pinches his chin. “…Arias knows that we’re here.”

Your heart drops—Bundle of fear, anxiety and stress springing back into your nerves as you probe at the possibility of Glen Arias knowing where you are. What you’re trying to do. Making sure you will never reach that sample despite your hardest wills.

“He shouldn’t. Rebecca, didn’t Arias get on the jet?” Carlos is also thinking too.

“Affirmative. Security footage showed Arias walking into his private jet, and it took off four hours ago. He should still be in the air. No signal of them making a pitstop anywhere.”

You hear black pumps clacking against the hardwood floor. “I’m getting the sample.” Says Ada, her foot is already halfway out of the door. “Follow me or not, I don’t care. I’m here for the objective, and only that.”

“And what if something happens to you?” Carlos asks, genuinely concerned.

“I’ll deal with it if it happens.” Ada waves dismissively.

“Ada’s right, we could be set on a wild goose chase.” Jill chimes in. “Millions of lives are dying. We don’t have time to waste.”

“I guess it’s just you and me then, pretty boy.” Carlos rounds his arm around Leon’s neck, bringing him closer in an almost choking grip, a little too close and tight to his liking. And with Leon’s history with Carlos, Leon refuses to believe this is just a friendly gesture.

Leon grimaces, removing Carlos’ hand over him. “So that’s it? We’re splitting up?” The answer is unanimous. “Fine. I guess we’ll cover more ground if we split up.”

Rebecca, through the other side of your earpiece, speaks: “Be careful everyone. You don’t know what kind of schemes Glenn Arias had set up. Please stay safe.”

“We’ll be fine, as long as we don't have any traitors in our team.” Leon says the word ‘traitor’ while maintaining eye contact with Ada. She ignores him, simply deadpans.

“Well, what about you?” Leon nudges at your arm.

You are faced with two options. Indulge in your curiosity and find the source of the gas, or stick to mission as planned? Both options will be dangerous. So who will you trust with your life?

[OPTION A] “I’ll follow the girls.”

[OPTION B] “I’ll follow the boys.”

𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐟𝐮𝐜𝐤𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐝𝐞𝐚𝐝 𝐦𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭 thanks for reading! come check out my other works! —yours truly, rose. i love my beta reader @scar-crossedlvrs! series taglist: @j3llyd0nut @ovaryacted @daydreamrot @madcap-riflette @access--granted @obsolescent @briermelli @secretiveauthor @ghosty-frog @navstuffs @slowcryinginthedark @rentaldarling @lesbntired © roseglazedlens — please do not repost, plagiarise, or feed to ai.

[shima-draws]

I've been teasing her for months!! But at long last her ref is complete 🌷

I actually DON'T have a 5 page essay on her backstory this time (like I did for Ilari LMAO) but I do have some info about her if anybody is curious!

Name: Ione

Age: 25

Hair color: Silver

Eye color: Orangish-yellow

Element: Light

Grabbing info from the few posts I've talked about her already, Ione was originally a very famous singer, pretty much an idol within the world of ATS. She'd hold huge concerts that were always sold out and people from around the world would flock to see her perform. Eventually tho all of the attention started to attract the wrong kinds of people, and sooner or later Ione was "scouted" by a very rich man who wanted her all to himself. She was manipulated and blackmailed into signing a contract with him that would essentially end her touring and make it so that she would become a private singer for him. He basically chained her with this contract and so she disappeared from the public eye.

Ione soon discovered that other people with similar talents had also been gathered and trapped by this man's contracts. Among them was a prodigy violin player who she grew very close with. The two of them struggled under the demands of this man, and eventually violin boy started to get physically abused by him 😭 Things escalated to the point where Ione decided she wanted OUT and was determined to do anything to escape. This led to a very...traumatic event that caused her to go mute by choice.

When Ione finally makes her escape, thankfully she's changed so much that people don't recognize her in public (mostly her hair! It used to be short and didn't cover one of her eyes before). Shortly after she runs into Nahu and his group, and is unceremoniously recruited to join them lol (Nahu can be VERY persuasive). Ione communicates with them through sign language, which luckily a couple of them are fluent in--Ezio and Sage to be specific. They then teach the others in the group sign language too. It takes Nahu a bit to get the hang of it bc he has like, no attention span whatsoever, but being a dragon elemental helps since his senses are super attuned all the time, so he can generally tell what Ione is feeling and what she's trying to convey when she talks to him :")

Over time Ione grows closer with them, and like everybody else is hit with the Found Family, and realizes that yeah. She'd do absolutely ANYTHING for this group of crazy weirdos. She starts to fall in love with Nahu (bc who WOULDN'T), and slowly gains the courage to use her voice again. This leads to secret meetings with Sage, who helps her relearn how to use her vocal cords.

Eventually her past catches up with her, of course, but the group all bands together to set her free from it. She has to face off against violin boy, who thought she'd abandoned him and got Messed Up Mentally as a result, so THAT'S a thing she's gotta deal with. But she's able to reach him by singing for the first time in over five years, and everyone absolutely loses their shit at how beautiful her voice is and they all cry and it’s very emotional!!

Even after regaining her voice she still prefers to stay quiet most of the time, as that is what she's comfortable with, but she's totally okay with speaking when she needs to. Also I need to mention this but bc she used to be like. An idol. Obviously her routines consisted of both song and dance so she's a pretty good dancer. Out of everyone in the group, Ione is the ONLY person Ezio will dance with (and he is a very VERY good dancer himself, but will only dance with someone who can keep up with him, which Ione can). Everyone is very jealous of this, ESPECIALLY Nahu lol bc he wants to dance with Ezio too 😂

Ione's a light elemental! I haven't given a LOT of thought into her powers yet but I do know that her singing makes her stronger and also gives her powers a boost, which in turn helps the rest of the group. She also can ride on these light waves--I will have to draw them sometime bc I can't really explain them in words, it'd be better to show them visually lol

And that's her!! My flower light mute girl <33333

[uzumaki-rebellion]

A.N.: Content Warning, violence, slave lynchings, blood, sex.

"Know that you are loved

Even if you don't love yourself

Know that you are loved

Even if you don't love yourself…"

Cleo Soul – "Know That You Are Loved"

Celeste washed away blood, tissue, and pieces of teeth from her hair that once belonged to three men she tried to help get home.

Sitting in her tub, she let the showerhead rain warm water down on her, creating steam that enveloped her in warmth. The last trickles of blood that soaked her locs ran down the drain in pink rivulets. She raised her knees to her chest and hugged her legs.

She couldn't stay in Marigny anymore.

Vampires, ghouls, and gargoyles knew where she stayed, and she felt like a lighthouse for supernatural entities to fuck up her life even more. She couldn't take a chance staying with her parents, grandparents, or older brothers and their families. Bringing danger to them had to be avoided at all costs.

She wiped her face of tears and let the shower water wash it away. Celeste needed to activate a new state of mind. One that moved in the world with intention.

Celeste scrubbed blood from the side of her car and used carpet cleaner to clear away the dark splashes that stained her passenger seat. Afterward she dropped her car off at a dealership to replace the busted window. She slept most of the day and returned to work at the chicken processing plant using an Uber. The news of the disappearance spread around fast, and she feigned shock at the news that Hector, Shorty, and Quentin disappeared with everyone else. Police detectives wandered about the facility interviewing workers that shared the same shift the previous day. She answered questions concisely and never gave up info that she was with them during their last hour. Celeste kept her head down and pushed through her work. She clocked out and used the turn of events as fodder to get a few days off from the elder care facility.

It was time to dig into Miss Irma's boxes.

Celeste fixed herself a turkey and bacon sandwich and hunkered down, opening every box she brought home. Miss Irma's meticulous organization of her private papers and photos helped her separate the records into neat piles. At the bottom of a box filled with several thick books on history, the occult, and supernatural symbolism, she found a small plastic case filled with flash drives loaded with archival images, more family photos, and copies of folders with Miss Irma's travel photography for over the last five decades. Personal correspondence, postcards, and holiday cards shared by her friends and former work colleagues were tucked inside clear plastic bags.

She spent half a day piecing together the story of Terrence Richmond Guidry, a former enslaved human and leader of a little known Black and Indigenous uprising in the swamps of Opelousas, Louisiana.

Celeste had to stop almost every twenty minutes to get up from her sewing room desk to absorb the incredible story of the man who knocked her up.

Terry had been descended from enslaved Creoles way back, the kind that negotiated plaçages and attended quadroon balls to link wealthy white men with femmes de couleur to create free-born octoroons like his mother. His family upheld the caste system and pretended to be white for years until Terry's birth threatened to expose them. Considered too dark, too curly-haired, and too full-featured to pass as white with his unwanted throwback genes, even with green eyes, his land-owning white-passing Black father didn't send him off to Paris to be educated like his fairer male siblings. His father sent him to New Orleans at fourteen to learn a respectable trade as a shipbuilder, but slave catchers captured and sold him to a sugarcane plantation. News reached Terry two years later that his own father sold him to pay off a gambling debt and to amend back taxes due on their plot of land. His mother died of grief over it. None of his older brothers tried to save him. They married white women and diluted the bloodline back to unsullied whiteness and never returned to America. Celeste closed her eyes and wept for him. Family betrayal cut the deepest.

His owner was a strict Catholic who took a liking to Terry. Allowed him to marry an enslaved woman named Delilah. They had three children. Two boys and a girl born in bondage. The daughter died of smallpox when she was three. The conditions on the sugar plantation were harsh, yet somehow Terry and his wife survived with their two sons.

Celeste jumped up from her seat and paced in her sewing room. He lied to her about having children because they came before he turned into a vampire. She drank tea and snacked on some fruit, letting her mind sit with the man's past as an abused slave. What other atrocities had he endured? She entertained the idea that it may have been a relief to become non-human in order to get away from the banality of white evil. There were more than a few times she stopped reading and cried for him.

After writing about smallpox passing through his plantation like a deadly wildfire killing one third of the enslaved population, Miss Irma's historical biography veered off the rails and entered the domain of what would be considered speculative fiction in the real world. Terry blended in with a group of newly arrived Haitian captives and saltwater Africans who had been illegally brought into the south to replace the lost human property. It was against the law to import slaves into the United States after 1808, and the influx of Black people from the Caribbean and the Western Coast of Africa secretly continued on Terry's plantation during his time there in the 1850s. Slaves were bred as Black gold for the small farmer and large plantations, often sold in lots to turn profits quickly as cotton became king of the southern economy. The devastating loss of so many able-bodied field hands made it impossible for wealthy planters to wait around twelve to fifteen years for a new crop of humans to be bred and physically capable of picking cotton. Illegal importations saved them with a fresh influx of free Black labor immediately without a long-term profit loss.

Terry learned Haitian Creole and taught his diaspora brethren the Franglais he grew up with mixed in with the Cajun dialect of the overseers who beat him constantly. Under Miss Irmas's pen, Celeste became intimate with the fierce mindset of Terry in the past.

Somehow Terry convinced the handful of Haitians, Chitimatcha Native people trapped on their own stolen land, and his own mixed African population of homegrown pre-Black Americans to rise up and kill the masters on their plantation and two others nearby. Seventy-five enslaved men and women used machetes, pickaxes, and shovels to bash in the brains and slice the bodies of white men, white women, and their white babies. Slaves who tried to snitch were slaughtered right beside their masters.

Miss Irma copied an archival photo of Terry's former plantation, and Celeste gasped at another startling photo of Terry among other unnamed slaves. The look in his fiery eyes showed how ready he was to kill if given the chance to take retribution.

On a final chapter of Terry's pre-vampire life, Miss Irma documented how Delilah and his sons were spirited away to safety by free Black abolitionists in another parish. The uprising ended when a militia used firearms, attack dogs, and horses to outrun and overpower the enslaved rebels on their defiant march toward another parish.

The militia caught Terry fleeing with five other slaves, two of them Native, who escaped capture toward the end. Days later, the militia surrounded them in a hot, mosquito-infested swamp, where they evaded gators and poisonous water moccasins that slithered on top of the brackish swamp water.

All six slaves were lynched from giant oak trees covered in drooping Spanish moss on a sweltering summer night. Celeste's eyes stayed riveted to the typewriter ink on yellowing sheets of paper. She cross-referenced the lynchings with a Google search and also looked it up in one of the old books Miss Irma kept on slave rebellions in the southeast. The event was known as the Opelousas Rebellion.

Celeste's fingers shook while reading.

The authorities buried five of the slaves' recovered bodies in a mass grave, and the lynch mob that cornered Terry and his cohorts met mysterious circumstances, resulting in their murder. Their bodies were found stacked neatly, showing ripped throats and shredded wrists. Every drop of blood in them drained. Only one witness escaped to alert others and he eventually went insane after sharing a chilling tale of night demons attacking them. Miss Irma's historical recollection of the official record switched over into what had to be Terry's personal statement as a firsthand witness and survivor.

A roaming pack of vampires came upon the lynching and slaughtered everyone they could find…except for Terry. He had been the last one hung from the tree, his body jerking in the throes of approaching death, dangling like strange fruit until a vampire turned him into one of their own, saving what insignificant life he had left.

Miss Irma had no further details other than Terry finding his way back to his family a year later and living through centuries, reinventing himself as a son, grandson, great-grandson, and so on with each generational loss. At the bottom of the last page, Miss Irma wrote a handwritten note to herself: Check on the background of T'ewati Kobebi, the Aksumite Empire, and look up biblical notes on why the mention of tattoos only occurs once in the bible from Jesus.

Scribbled below the word 'tattoos' was a hand-drawn depiction of Terry's tattoo with a complete circle. Miss Irma drew the bottom half in black ink and shaded the top half with pencil lead. Between the typed manuscript, she had inserted two folded sheets of white copy paper. Celeste unfolded the sheets to find over fifty mystical symbols of chakras, magic circles, and pentagrams. She recognized a rudimentary ankh symbol, and several Christian Coptic crosses. Most of the magic circle images were underlined or had an asterisk next to it. Several had some configuration of an eight-pointed star symbol in the center. One looked eerily similar to Terry's tattoo that she circled in red ink.

Celeste spent the rest of her time in bed looking at the gargoyle pictures from Miss Irma's various flash drives on her laptop. She smiled at how young Miss Irma was in the fifties and sixties, traveling around the world, snapping photos of ugly relics. Her looks back then reminded Celeste of Lena Horne with the silky hair and button nose. A tattered journal explained the differences in gargoyles based on their country of origin and mapped out their locations worldwide. There was a lot of biblical scholarship research on Satan and the Book of Revelations, angels, demons, and the decline of the American church. Miss Irma had a keen interest in proving that ancient myths and folklore were real. Celeste shivered in her bed. Miss Irma listed many fantastical creatures that existed alongside the few Celeste had encountered in person. It would take months, maybe even a year, to read and decipher all the written research from that brilliant mind.

With her eyes exhausted from reading and scrolling images, Celeste fell into a deep sleep. Nightmare visions of the vampire attack caused her to toss, turn, and shout in her sleep. Dark dreams of holding a brown baby with fangs woke her up with a pounding headache…and a pounding on her door. Her cell phone vibrated on her nightstand. She answered it.

"Hello?"

"Duchess, I'm outside your front door," Micah said.

His voice sounded stressed with worry. She climbed out of bed and let him inside her home.

"I've been calling you all day. Why aren't you answering your phone?" he asked.

Celeste plopped down on her sectional and covered her eyes with her hand. Micah sat next to her.

"My life is fucked up, Micah."

She glanced at her cousin. His handsome face openly conveyed how much he loved her and cared about her well-being.

"I'm pregnant. Terry is the father."

Micah squeezed his eyes shut and pressed his lips together in a disappointed line.

"I told you not to—"

"Stop! Please! I don't need you making me feel worse than I do."

"How far along are you?"

"I'll be ten weeks in a couple of days."

"Okay…okay…what are you going to do? Are you keeping it?"

"I don't think I can because…."

Celeste looked at her cousin. She chewed on her bottom lip, stopping herself from saying the word vampire out loud.

"I'm thinking of going to California to have an abortion."

Her stomach muscles cramped, and she rubbed it, letting out a breath as the pain went away.

"I can go with you. My job owes me some extra off days for covering people."

She nodded.

"I haven't told anyone except you, and I don't want others to know."

"Will you tell him?"

"I don't know where he is. We haven't spoken in person or over the phone since he left here."

"Decisions like this are hard…especially a second time. I think you should go talk to Father Mbenga."

"Confession? Why would I tell Father Mbenga about this? He'd see it as a sin and talk me out of it."

"I didn't say do a confessional…I meant seek counsel from a spiritual advisor you trust. I can see in your eyes that this is painful, and spiritual counsel always helps you, Duchess. Your voice is saying get rid of it, but your eyes…bay-buh…your eyes are full of doubt. When we were teenagers, the thought of you having a baby so young hurt me, because I knew that nigga who did it to you was bad news. We rushed you through it because it was the right thing to do for you at that time."

"What about this time?"

"You're a grown woman who wants children…a family. Maybe this is a blessing in disguise."

"I never wanted to be a single mother, Micah."

"Well…if we find that green-eyed pussy bandit, maybe you won't have to be."

"I thought you were pissed about that man."

"I am, and he needs to face his responsibilities either way."

"There'd be no point telling him about it if I don't keep it."

"You want to keep it."

"I can't."

"Listen, we can go over to the church, and you can just talk about the stress you're under…nothing about being pregnant. God always has a way of showing the way when you really need it."

Celeste teared up and wiped at her eyes.

"I'll get dressed," she said.

Micah waited for Celeste outside of the church.

She walked inside, crossed herself in the vestibule and made her way toward the space worshippers were in while the church was still being worked on. She genuflected in front of a pew and then sat down. The stillness within the sanctuary humbled the anxiety in her chest. She folded her hands across her stomach and pondered her situation quietly. As a little girl, she often imagined herself having a baby to carry inside of St. Augustine's for a christening with all of her family around, celebrating her own little bundle of joy wrapped in a soft, white lace Christening gown.

Sadly, Celeste could only see herself carrying a baby that would probably sizzle in pain if Father Mbenga poured baptismal holy water over her head. It wouldn't be right to bring a child into the world that would only face the horrors of a lonely vampire existence like her father.

She stood up quickly.

"Sister Celeste?"

Father Mbenga approached her from the back of the pew.

"Did we have an appointment?" he asked.

"No, Father Mbenga, I just…"

Celeste's lip trembled, and she closed her eyes. A tear rolled down her face.

"Sit…sit…oh, what troubles you?" he asked.

Father Mbenga slipped in next to her on the pew and Celeste choked out her words.

"I find myself in a situation that was avoidable, but I think maybe I wanted it too, and I don't know how to move forward."

She wiped a dangling teardrop from her nose.

"I came to talk to you about it, but I don't think I'm ready to do that yet."

"God is with you, no matter the problem you face. When you are ready, come back. The church is your spiritual backbone for whatever storms you may have to weather."

"Thank you," she said.

He stood with her and walked her to the exit.

Outside, the bright sun and muggy heat greeted her. Micah jumped out of his car.

"You're done already?" he asked.

"No. I changed my mind. I'll come back another time when I feel stronger…braver. I want to walk around."

"I'll come with you."

They took a slow trip around memory lane and Micah pointed out spots where they played as children or snuck out to meet boys and girls for street fights, or smoke out sessions. Her cousin made her laugh and remember what it was like to be young and carefree. An hour later, they strolled to their grandparents' home so Celeste could urinate and hear the comforting sounds of Big Chief and Grand-mère enjoying their Saturday afternoon. They ate leftover beef stew with white rice and Big Chief showed them sketches for his new Indian suit.

She left her grandparents' house with a full belly and sprinkles of love cast over her.

"You look better," Micah said.

"I feel a little better. Still a lot to think about, though."

"I'll take you home. You can think some more and call me when you want to talk it out. I would hang with you longer, but I gotta get ready for work later."

She linked her arm around his.

"Thank you for supporting me…as always," she said.

They ambled back around to his car and he drove toward her house. Her phone chirped and the auto dealership mechanic left a text stating that they had to order a new window for her and the Charger wouldn't be ready until Monday or Tuesday at the latest. Celeste sighed and didn't worry too much. She had time off from work and hadn't planned on working Sunday either. Her little fetish side hustle videos covered the elder care facility income for the Lord's day.

"Well, I'll be damned," Micah stated loudly.

Celeste's heart swelled in her chest and she gripped the door handle of Micah's sporty Lexus coupe.

Seated at the top step of her stoop was Terry. Clothed in a simple orange T-shirt and comfortable tan cargo pants, he raised his head and stood immediately the moment he noticed Celeste.

"You want me to stay?" Micah asked.

"No, I need to talk to him alone."

"Call me if it goes south, okay?"

"I will," she said.

She stepped out of the Lexus and Micah watched the both of them without leaving, making sure she was truly okay.

"Hey," Terry said.

"Hi."

"It's been a while, and I wanted to see you. Sorry for not giving you a heads up that I was coming back down."

"You stopped communicating with me. I thought maybe…maybe it was for the best since we're living in two different places."

In the sunlight, his eyes held the color of balmy Caribbean waters. No blinking meant his gaze pierced into the deepest part of her. All she could think of standing there in front of her house was that his Black father had sold him into slavery. Terrible white men strung him up in a tree…all because he wanted to free his people. Did it matter if a strange vampire pack saved his life so he could watch over his loved ones for centuries? He didn't act like a feral beast. The man loved his family. Loved her.

Her chest shuddered. Tears sprang out too fast to cover up her emotions. Terry wrapped his muscular arms around her.

"I'm sorry I had to leave. It's been difficult being away from you, Duchess."

She buried her face in his shoulder, unable to express openly everything she'd experienced since his absence. It made no sense to be terrified of him and in love equally. She pushed back from him and averted eye contact.

In the daylight, they were safe. However, she didn't think it was wise for him to know that she was aware of his lineage. She had to play it close to the vest.

"How long are you here for?"

"A couple of days and then I have to get back. I got a room at a hotel…I just needed to see you again. Baby, I miss you."

Celeste's stomach flip-flopped and she climbed the steps to her front door. Glancing around, she noticed Micah still parked in front of her place. She nodded her head for him to leave and he made a 'call me' hand motion before he pulled away from the curb.

Terry followed her inside the house.

"I'll make us some tea," she said, needing an excuse not to look at him directly.

In the kitchen she fumbled with the tea-making, spilling sugar cubes everywhere and nearly breaking a saucer for the cups. She focused on keeping her hands steady as she carried the cups and saucers out into the living room.

They sipped together in silence, the tension between them thick like the roux in her grandmother's cooking pot.

"This place still feels cozy," he said.

He put his drink down and reached for her hand. She pulled back, keeping a polite distance.

"You have every right to be mad at me for not keeping in touch, or at least telling you I couldn't see you again right away."

"Things happen. We had fun. I was upset for a minute, but I'm over it."

So many questions ran races around in her brain. What did he do while he was gone? Did he hunt people and just stay low key, hiding in trees or stalking victims near clubs? Were there others like him? Daywalkers who other vampires depended on? The Deacon said Terry was an apex predator, and yet she never picked up on anything violent about him except for when he punched those white men two months ago on her behalf.

The Deacon and his pack wanted Terry. Once the night time came, they would probably know he was there with her. What if they pretended to be nice to her just to lure him back for nefarious reasons?

Celeste didn't know what to do.

"Duchess? Why won't you look at me?"

She played it off.

"I'm still upset with you, so I don't even want to look at you. I think you should leave. What we had is over, and it's best if we both move on."

The words sounded corny and cliché flowing out of her mouth, but it was the best she could come up with. She didn't know for sure if she was protecting him or herself. Maybe both.

"If you want me to go, I will. But I want you to look me in my eyes and say it…so I'll know it's real."

Don'tdoitDon'tdoitDon'tdoit…don't…

She squeezed her eyes shut and refused to look at him.

"Be mad, but please…don't shut me out. You're all I have left," he pleaded.

Celeste rocked forward in her seat and fell apart. The pain of being alone wafted off of him and she couldn't resist touching him again. She threw her arms around him and he rested his chin on top of her head. His body trembled against her and she was so close to spilling her secret and his. She clamped her mouth shut.

He cradled her chin with his hand, and she still refused to look at him. Celeste didn't want him to read her mind or do any of the things vampires could do to break her will.

"Why won't you look at me?"

"I can't…I don't wanna fall for you again."

He pressed his forehead against hers.

"I still love you," he said. "Being away hasn't changed my feelings. Tell me you don't love me anymore and I'll go away…never to bother you again. Je t'aime tellement, j'ai besoin de toi dans ma vie. Je veux être avec toi… all your life, Duchess."

Celeste gasped. He loved and needed her in his life. Wanted to be with her for as long as she lived. She glanced at the clock on her living room wall. They had a little over five hours before the sun went down.

Celeste looked directly into Terry's eyes. If he was brazen enough to read her thoughts in the past, would he do it now?

He only sighed in relief and kissed her lips gently once.

"Your eyes tell me you still feel the same about me," he said.

She balked for a second. He didn't invade her thoughts. Terry lifted her right hand and kissed her palm.

"I want to take you somewhere special to me."

"Where?"

"Mémé's house. You can think of it as a vacation."

"Why didn't you take me there before?" she asked.

"I thought it might've been too soon, especially after her death. Time away from here has given me a chance to think."

"I've done a lot of thinking too…and we need to talk…about a bunch of things. My life is different now—"

He kissed her.

His lips covered her mouth completely, and she gave in to the passion he conveyed for her.

She loved him.

Felt sorry for him.

Feared him.

Every emotion within her became tossed about, muddying the waters of discernment. Clarity. Down…down…down she went, drowning in his kisses and his tongue sliding in her mouth. She gave back hungry kisses, too. No human could understand what it felt like to be kissed and touched by a vampire. The man knew every spot on her body to break her down further, from licking the side of her neck to plunging his tongue in her ear.

He groaned her name into her skin. She folded like a losing poker hand.

She wanted him. He wanted her. Was that so wrong? A human and a vampire feeling desire for one another? Miss Irma said he loved her, and would a ghost lie?

Terry made her feel things that she'd never experienced with a human man before. Cherished and protected. Love overflowed from him and poured into her and she was willing to be damned by it if it meant she could have that feeling forever in his arms.

He lifted her from the sectional and carried her into the bedroom. She let him undress her. It didn't take long to unbutton her summer blouse and pull down her skirt. She kicked off her sandals and watched him take off his clothes, his eyes never leaving hers.

He kissed every part of her and took his time fondling her breasts. Her nipples were sensitive and a simple flick of his fingers had them stiff. He sucked on them far longer than she expected, and she gazed at the ceiling. The light of day looked even more magical with him in her arms. His fingers slid across her locs and he played with them like they were just as sexy as her breasts. The full arousal of his dick slapped against her legs and she ignored it, knowing it would have her laid out soon enough. Once Terry put that hammer on her, wasn't no sane reason on earth to try and keep a rational mind.

He rested on his side, hugging her close to his naked warmth. His thick fingers stroked her cheek. She luxuriated in the shivers running across her skin.

"I want us to stay like this for days and days on end," he said.

She traced an index finger around his right nipple, and it hardened. Puckering her lips, she forced him to lower his head to kiss her again. He shifted his position even lower and kissed her vulva, paying close attention to the arc above her clit. She felt the thumping under her clitoral hood and moaned his name when he licked all over her inner labia. After a time, he rose with shiny, wet lips. Celeste made minimum effort to respond in kind. She remained a pillow princess and let him put forth all the effort in lovemaking. Her goal was to remain alert and experience his affections without losing herself to the lust.

He gave more effort to engage her, going so far as to place her hand on his erection, forcing her to please him. She slid her hand up and down with his hand covering hers, helping her keep on task, never going further than the thick ridge under his tip. Pre-cum spilled out, and he reached for a bottle of lube on the side table. He squeezed the dark blue plastic bottle and the odor of vanilla became strong to her nose as the sticky lubricant coated his dick, helping her hand slide with a slick pressure on his length. Rubbing some around her opening, he stared at her face, drinking in the intoxicating way he made her feel with his lovemaking prowess. Love shined in his eyes and glowed all around his face. Her heart wanted to confess about the pregnancy, but her mind fought back to keep that hidden from him. She still wasn't sure what to do, and telling him wouldn't help her. It would just add more pressure and cloud her judgement.

Terry repositioned Celeste on her side. He lifted her leg and pushed the tip of his dick against her opening.

"Terry," she murmured.

He kissed her and penetrated in two places, her mouth with his tongue, and her pussy with his dick at the same time. She gripped the sheet on her bed and braced her back against his chest. Terry made that dick move in her pussy. He dug deep in her walls and the lube had her pussy slippery to accommodate his size. She stretched around him well enough, but her lips twisted up, letting out little yelps and squeals, unable to process how good it felt to have that dick back where it belonged.

He squeezed and played with her tits, enjoying the way they bounced on the bed as he rocked into her with a steady pounding. A minute later, he lifted her right leg and kept it suspended in the air, using it to balance the thrusts he gave.

"Goddamn, this shit stays so tight around me," he moaned. "You missed me, huh?" he teased.

She smiled and reached back to touch his hair.

"Pussy gonna have me making a mess all in it…keep squeezing this dick like that and you'll have a problem on your hands."

She laughed, and he kissed her, still pumping that thick dick into her depths. Her passive energy excited him more, perhaps making him feel like he had to prove himself to her again. He grunted, kept her leg up, and complimented her sugary walls with each slap of his balls on her ass. Between thrusts, he stroked her clit, edging her so good she started getting blurry vision.

He fucked in the same way that got her pregnant and that excited Celeste, causing her pussy to spasm before she was ready, her orgasm rippling all across that heavy dick.

"Cum on my dick…keep cumming on my…dick…yessss…just like that…taking this dick like the good girl you are…ooh shit, you're still cumming…you want me to nut, don't you? Make a big mess all in this pussy…that's what you want…I can feel it…look how you're doing all this dick…all this dick…fuck all this dick…"

His mouth slammed down on her neck, and this time, Celeste was aware of everything, the initial pain, the deep sucking to snatch away her blood, the pressure of teeth that became unnatural inside her throat. She could even feel her heartbeat thrum in time to his sucking—

Terry froze.

His thrusts abruptly stopped. He dropped her leg onto the bed. His tongue and lips no longer stole her lifeblood.

Slowly…ever so slowly…he pulled his teeth out of her neck. His dick pulsed inside her pussy and she had no control over the final contractions of her orgasm. He pushed her chin, making her look at him.

She nearly screamed.

His eyes glowed with the inhuman reflection that he shared with The Deacon. His canine teeth and premolars were long, sharp, and dripping with her blood. Even with the feral gleam in his eye and the vicious, sharp teeth exposed, Terry's beauty became enhanced in his full vampire glory.

How dumb and blind she had been!

This was his true self.

"You can't be," he whispered under his breath.

He licked her blood from his teeth and around his dripping lips.

"Impossible!" he yelled.

He pulled his dick out and they both could see how close he was to cumming. His pre-cum still spilled out.

Celeste shrank into herself and stayed in a tight ball on a corner of the bed, pulling the sheet over her breasts.

"A girl…" he whispered, his eyes staring off into space.

Celeste nodded and he jumped off the bed as if she had the plague.

"Vampires can't breed with humans."

There.

He said it out loud. Naming what he was to her face.

"I know what you are," she said. "But you got me pregnant."

His eyes watered, and he bared his teeth at her threateningly.

"He called her a dhampir. Told me she was priceless," she said, rising to her knees on the bed.

"He?" Terry said, his eyes narrowing.

"The Deacon—"

Terry had her by the throat and pinned against the wall above the headboard before she could finish another word. She tried prying his hand away from her throat.

"I can't breathe…Terry…"

"When did you see him?!"

His harsh tone scared her. She burst into tears.

He dropped her back on the bed and stepped away from her, staring down at her like she was a cursed thing. She rubbed her throat and left the room. Padding into her sewing room, she grabbed a manilla folder. She returned to the bedroom and tossed Miss Irma's biography about him on the bed.

"I know all about you, Terry. How you became a slave. Your lynching. Your re-birth as a vampire."

Terry touched Miss Irma's tome and shut his eyes. He opened them back up and looked at her naked body.

"When did you see Abai?"

"Abai?"

"That's his real name. The Deacon is just something I used to call him as a joke between us."

Terry's voice sounded tired. Celeste folded her arms across her breasts.

"He came here looking for you with four other female vampires a week ago. They saved my life the other day. Another group of vampires attacked my co-workers when I helped change their tire. Abai, he knew I was pregnant. He cut my hand and tasted my blood, told me I was having a girl."

"You let him feed from you?"

Terry's nostrils flared, and his sharp teeth looked more menacing.

"I didn't let him…it happened during the attack, and I was…protecting myself…protecting what's inside me. Miss Irma…Mémé…she came to me as a ghost while I was at work and told me I was pregnant first. She knew it was a girl…she told me to look in her papers to know your story."

"Dhampirs are not real. None have ever existed. It's a myth. Humans and vampires are two different species incapable of reproducing anything."

"Nigga, I didn't think you were real either, but I've seen two different types of vampires and a ghost. Go fucking figure!"

She stomped out of the bedroom and locked herself in the bathroom. Angry and full of tears, Celeste ran the shower and cleaned herself off. She pulled on her bathrobe from the hook on the bathroom door.

"You don't have to worry about me keeping this mythical fetus. I'm going to fly out-of-state to get it taken out of me!" she shouted.

A fiery pain burned in her chest. This was the outcome she expected from him finding out. Denial. Negative behavior. The typical lame male response of not wanting to take responsibility for his part in the mess. She stared at herself in the mirror. Her face looked wet and her eyes were red and puffy from crying in the shower.

"You can leave, Terry. I'll take care of everything. Let's just act like we never met. No one would believe me about vampires anyway, so don't trip about your secret."

She flung open the bathroom door, and he was right there, bigger than life, waiting for her to come out.

"I don't want you to take care of anything," he said.

"What?"

His eyes were wet with tears and full of longing.

"Maybe…maybe this is a miracle for us, Duchess…maybe this was meant to be. I have endured the loss of so much for so long. Do you think the god you love so much took pity on me?"

"What are you saying?"

"I want to have this baby with you.

Chapter 13 HERE.

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@sweettea-and-honeybutter

@comfortzonequeen

@theereina

@brattyfics

@prettyisasprettydoes1306

@megane96

@honeytoffee

@taurusqueen83

@mightbeher

@melaninpov

@carlakeks

@woahthatshitfat

@hrlzy

@theglamclosetsl

@liquorlaughslove

@teeresaresa

[whetstonefires]

After seeing your weatherbugapp reblog i installed duckduckgo and tried it.

I don't know much about technology tbh but i downloaded this app less than 30 mins ago and in that time google tried to track me 112 times?? And they tried to collect finger prints? And my first and last name? And my gender? And my country, state and city? My gps coordinates? My postal code? My network carrier? My fricking battery level for whatever reason? Can you please tell me if this is normal at all, because i'm freaking out right now. I just turned 18 and started using mobile banking and stuff and this shit scares me

Why tf does it need to know my screen density???my system volume????my charging status????? What tf are they cooking

Now it's at 476 tracking attempts bro???? barely 5 mins passed.....

I condensed your three asks into one for readability!

And yeah, I'm very far from an expert about any of this, but as far as I know that's just. Normal. That's the normal amount of spying they're doing on your phone. I assume the numbers we see are to some extent because having been foiled, a lot of these scripts try repeatedly, since I can't imagine what use thousands of trackers per phone would be even to the great aggregators.

Tracking the phone stuff like screen resolution and battery level is because (apart from that definitely not being considered remotely 'private' so it's Free Real Estate) in aggregate that data can be used to track what phone use patterns are like on a demographic scale and therefore. Where the smart money is.

Almost all of this is getting sold in bulk for ad targeting and market analysis. This does presumably make it very hard to notice when like. Actually important stuff is being spied on, which is why I feel better about Having Apps with the duckduckgo app blocker thing.

My bank's app reportedly sells data to a couple aggregators including Google. Not like, my banking info, but it's still so offensive on principle that I avoid using the app unless I have to, and force stop it afterward.

The patterns that show up on the weekly duckduckgo blocker report are interesting. Hoopla attempts about two orders of magnitude more tracking than Libby, which makes sense because they're a commercial streaming service libraries pay by the unit for access, while Libby is a content management software run by a corporation that values its certification as a 'B' company--that is, one invested in the public good that can be trusted. The cleanness of their brand is a great deal of its value, so they have to care about their image and be a little more scrupulous.

Which doesn't mean not being a little bit spyware, because everything is spyware now. Something else I've noticed is that in terms of free game apps, the polished professional stuff is now much more invasive than the random kinda janky thing someone just threw together.

Back in the day you tended to expect the opposite, because spyware was a marginal shifty profit-margin with too narrow a revenue stream to be worth more to an established brand than their reputation, but now that everyone does it there's not a lot of reputation cost and refraining would be sacrificing a potential revenue stream, which is Irresponsible Conduct for a corporation.

While meanwhile 'developing a free game app to put on the game store' is something a person can do for free with the hardware they already have for home use, as a hobby or practice or to put on their coding resume. So while such apps absolutely can be malicious and more dangerous when they are than The Big Brand, they can also be neutral in a way commercial stuff no longer is. Wild world.

But yeah for the most part as far as I can make out, these are just The Commercial Panopticon, operating as intended. It's gross but it probably doesn't indicate anything dangerous on an individual level.

[aceinacloset]

!FNAF SL REDUX!

Character Profile #11 Bonnet

Originally planned to be a second hand puppet to Funtime Freddy, that could be done interchangeably with Bon Bon. But due to technical difficulties and accidentally designing the bonnet to be slightly too big, she was largely scrapped. Bonnet is a secondary character in !FNAF SL REDUX!, and has surprisingly a bigger role than in canon, though, her role is not as big in SL. 

Let's get started…

Bonnet was a planned character, designed to be an interchangeable hand puppet with Bon Bon. But while William designed her, and built her, he miscalculated the size bonnet should be, making her too large. Due to her being still small enough to have very intricate and sensitive parts that would be difficult to change, and also having limited funding. Bonnet was just kept the way she was, and was just put into storage, her blueprint and info saved just in case she could be of use. Stick a pin in this, this detail is important.

Bonnet is locked in the private room (williams office), where she quickly befriends Yenndo, and kinda acts as her feet, since crawling everywhere is not very effective, and damages her suit. Bonnet is a very enthusiastic bunny, personality meant to be a parallel to Bon Bons, with just a slight whimsical edge.

Bonnet is the only one of the Private room bots that freely explores the facility, and would later become a little assistant to Liz and her exploration on getting out of the facility. She’d be very helpful, being able to reach the places Liz and the others couldn’t. Her and Bon Bon would even end up finding the vent that leads to the upper location. Sadly they wouldn’t be able to use it, but it was a discovery that ended up helping them anyway.

Michael never meets Bonnet, but Bonnet does know of Michael, spying on him during his night shifts.

Unlike Yenndo, LOLBIT, and Electro-bab, after the funtimes leave, and the company goes under and has to sell off their assets Bonnet would actually be one of them. Since she’s a complete animatronic and marked as useful, she was sold off to Fazbear entertainment. For a long time we wouldn’t see her.

All up until the mega pizza plex, I know big jump, but listen…

Bonnet, (SB, Ruin)

Bonnet had been remodeled, given legs and made as one of the pizza plexes many entertainers and attractions. She had been placed as an assistant to the daycare attendant in day and night hours. Bonnet's platting is now made of a material that children can draw on with crayons, and all she needs is a few wipes to clean it off. This lets her be a wonderful form of entertainment for children, and a good comfort due to her small size, and relatively soft fur.

She has day and night programming like the daycare attendant, meaning they are an assistant in caring for/ and entertaining kids in the daycare, and an assistant at making sure no intruders can escape or hide in the pizzaplex.

When the plex gets hijacked by The Purple Goop Rabbit™ Bonnet and Moon act as Vanny's extra eyes. Bonnet specifically acts as an alert to Moon of Gregory's location, in areas the Moon can tread (that's right, Moon is no longer confined to the hourly recharge sections.)

Yes, Bonnet misses the others. Sun worries about her, and feels extra bad that they can't make her feel better.

Bonnet loves Sun and Moon though, don't worry.

When we get around to RUIN, Bonnet is still with Sun and Moon, being about in the same condition as Sun and Moon are. Not as dangerous as she was in SB but on occasion may follow Cassie as she traverses the Daycare. Just shine the flashlight in her face and she'll go away.

And that's the end of Bonnet's Character Profile…

.

.

.

.

Circus Baby Character profile

Bidy, Bab, and Electro-Bab Character profile

Ballora Character profile

Minireenas Character profile

Funtime Freddy Character profile

Yenndo Character profile

Funtime Foxy Character profile

LOLBIT Character profile

Ennard Character profile

Elizabeth Afton Character profile [OUTDATED]

Katherine Afton Schmidt profile [OUTDATED]

[louisisalarrie]

I am relatively new to this fandom and I am already struggling with some things and I was hoping to get some perspective in the midst of feeling a bit discouraged. Do you ever struggle with admiring these artists who you know are lying to you and basically using manipulation tactics with the fandom? I have empathy for what these guys have gone through and can’t even imagine, especially so young. But especially with Louis, realizing that the Larry fans have stuck with him through so much and even through bbg (the ones who saw it for what it is), to just continue to be fed crap and seemingly pitted against other fans is just exhausting. And beyond a great super expensive concert, Harry seems completely disconnected and checked out. Concert Harry and public Harry are two totally different people (probably neither actually the real Harry) because of narratives and marketing and it just seems like everything is meant to be dissected and figured out and nothing is probably what it seems. And it really sucks to completely believe these are really great guys and believe that the situation is way more complicated than I can ever understand, yet still like I am just being fed bread crumbs that are supposed to be appreciation. I know as fans we are not owed all of them and they are absolutely entitled to a private life, but it just feels a bit like say nice things when we are convenient and spending money to attend shows and buy albums and leave us to deal with all the bullshit that goes with it on our own. Does this make any sense? I feel like it may sound a bit dramatic but it has been a long day :) I am just wondering if I am alone or being way to parasocial in sometimes feeling like this.

Heya!! no you’re not alone in this at all. And welcome to the fandom! <3

A lot of larries left when bbg happened. a lot of folks stopped tapping into any theories of Larry because like… it was harming their view on the boys and draining them of energy more so than just being part of the fandom which is meant to be a happy community supporting our faves. The disgust and clear closeting and stunts we’ve watched these boys go through just… makes my heart ache for them. But I can understand the frustration because it’s like… why can’t they do anything about it? Why are we still being lied to? When will it end? Why can’t I just enjoy my fave’s music without all this extra stuff on top of it?

And that is probably one of the biggest things about ending stunts is that you feel lied to. You’ve been sold a story for no other reason than money. You’ve been presented with this “authentic” image but really…. There’s more to it. It’s frustrating. Authenticity is just such a massive thing for artists these days. I know I keep hammering on about it but fr, it’s one of the best things an artist can do for their image, and for their wellbeing.

Rest assured though, we’re standing by their sides. We’re shouting from the rooftops. We’re reading laws and contracts and digging right in and learning and sharing info and it’s sooooo fucking cool. Obviously, a horrible circumstance, but do you know how many larries I got to know during 1d who now work in music? or are very well read in entertainment law and want to make a change? or are inspired to create safer spaces in fandoms? it’s a really cool thing off a very bad situation. but nonetheless, we have a community here, fighting for them.

Ending these stunts is no easy feat, either. It takes a lot of paperwork and a lot of damage control (depending on the story you’re going for), and a lot of convincing and maintaining relationships and losing money etc., and while artists are better without it… it’s just always gonna be there, one way or the other.

Larry was, and is, such a massive curveball to the industry. While yes a lot of artists have been closeted over the years, Larry was major in a turning point because of the fandom, the rise of social media (those two boys having access to their accounts and being sickly in love), and the rise of a different artist to fan relationship. Everything was recorded, gifs were made, we could directly message/tweet the boys, it was just… such a massively wild time, so the closeting came down really hard because it was unprecedented. SC was in entirely new territory, freaking out because they weren’t really aware how to take on alll these fans + social media. It was a mess. He panicked.

And every famous person has an image, a brand. It’s again, that fight on authenticity that people are yelling for now more than ever. Down goes the days of a whole fandom accepting something for what it is - we see through the bullshit, but it won’t just end. It makes money.

Anyway, it’s shitty but I’ve been here for a million years now and I, personally, can’t give up. I see a lot of yucky things in this industry firsthand, and when this all comes out, everything changes.

[animatronic-assistant]

Mafia Elara (AKA Songbird)

She was ment for the boss of a weak rival mob, very disorganized and many members didn't know how to tie up their loose lips. Just some arm candy. Well she didn't want that life, didn't want to be some incompetent boss's trophy girl, so she gathered the secrets she could and got good at getting others, male, female, nonbinary, didn't matter, she could charm them and get them drunk enough to tell her anything she wanted to know. She sold the jewelry the boss would drape her in and used that money to run.

She sold secrets to get far away and eventually found Masquerade and from there found her place in the world. She sings sweetly on stage catching the attention of the crowd and with a signal from her coworkers on who needed pumping for info she'd come down from the stage and work her magic on them. By the night's end she'd have what they needed and the intoxicated individual sent packing.

She never leaves the main floor and keeps herself in line of sight of security. Stupid girls get disappeared when letting themselves go to more private settings. Songbird is not stupid.

[labuenosairesfrancaise]

Nun Appleton House

Hi guys!!

I'm sharing Nun Appleton House. This is the 13th building for my English Collection.

I added aa garden, which is my own creation and not the original of the house.

History of the house: The hall itself is built of reddish-orange brick with ashlar dressings and a Welsh slate roof in three storeys to a rectangular floor plan. It is grade II listed and now stands in some 200 ha. of parkland.

The estate was acquired by The 1st Lord Fairfax of Cameron, a Yorkshireman with a Scottish peerage, following the Dissolution of the Monasteries, from whom it descended to The 3rd Lord Fairfax of Cameron, the well-known English Civil War commander, who built the present hall in the late 1600s.

In his time (1651) the estate was the inspiration for Andrew Marvell's Upon Appleton House, a significant country house poem. Marvell was tutor to Thomas Fairfax's daughter, Mary. After the death of Mary (who had married The 2nd Duke of Buckingham) in 1704 the estate was eventually sold in 1711 to Alderman William Milner of Leeds who carried out many alterations to the house.

His son William was created the 1st Milner Baronet, of Nun Appleton Hall in the County of York, in 1717 and was later Member of Parliament for York. The estate then descended in the Milner family until 1875, when the estate's owner, Sir William Mordaunt Milner, 6th Baronet, was more interested in gambling than looking after it.

By 1877 it had been leased to William Beckett-Denison, a wealthy Leeds banker. After the death of Sir William Milner in Cairo in 1881, his brother Frederick inherited the estate and in 1882 married Adeline, eldest daughter of William Beckett-Denison. After William Beckett's gruesome death in 1890, the Hall and estate were sold to Angus Holden, a sometime M.P. (later created Baron Holden), a woollen manufacturer from Bradford, whose ownership was somewhat brief as he died in 1912.

The hall was now empty and many of the tenanted farms were sold. The estate was put up for auction in 1914 and again in 1917 and eventually acquired by a private company which felled many of the trees but by 1919 had gone into liquidation. It was bought in 1920 by Sir Benjamin Dawson, 1st Baronet, another Bradford textile manufacturer, who was High Sheriff of Yorkshire for 1951–52. During the Second World War the hall was taken over by the London Maternity Hospital.

 When the stable block accidentally burnt down it was afterwards refurbished as a theatre and made available to the local community.

The property was bought from the last occupant, Sir Benjamin's daughter Joan Dawson, for £1.2 million in the 1980s by Humphrey Smith of the Samuel Smith brewing family. The house is now fenced off, empty, unused and deteriorating.

Video below check it out

For more info: https://www.facebook.com/story.php/?story_fbid=928431841986992&id=100044605540042&_rdr

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This house fits a 50x50 lot (I think if you lose the gaden and terrace it can fit a 50x40 too)

I furnished just the principal rooms, so you get an idea. The rest is unfurnished so you create the interiors to your taste!

Hope you like it.

You will need the usual CC I use:

all Felixandre cc

all The Jim,

SYB

Anachrosims

Regal Sims

King Falcon railing

The Golden Sanctuary

Cliffou

Dndr recolors

Harrie cc

Tuds

Lili's palace cc

Please enjoy, comment if you like it and share pictures with me if you use my creations!

Free to download blueprint: https://www.patreon.com/user?u=75230453

[icecream-gh0st]

First batch of Deercember adopts! First come first serve, DM to claim Pay/pal only!

Once purchased, the buyer will receive two unwatermarked versions of their adopt: One image with accessories, and one without

I'll also be uploading these adopts on toyhouse! Anyone interested is still more then welcome to offer on the adopts, even if you don’t have an account. I don’t mind privating the listing or editing the info to state that the owner is offsite!

TOS in bio!  🦌🎄🦌

🏔️ Snowy Summit: [Sold]

🍬 Misfit Toy: [OPEN]

🏹 Cupid's Mistletoe: [SOLD]

[multific]

Love in Oil Colours

Chapter 2: The Mistery 

Astarion x Fem!Reader

Summary: You just wanted to see the paintings. To see what new exhibits there were. You never expected for a simple oil painting to reveal so much about you and your past.

You rushed home, needed to do research you read up on the painter.

A female painter who lived in the 19th century.

No name, no further info.

It was only her paintings which survived.

One of the most well-known female painters and yet there was no information on her or the painting.

You were mad.

The painting was making you mad.

Then you found a YouTube video on the painting.

"This particular painting titled - My Love  - amongst the others in the collection was all done by the same woman. According to our historians, the paintings have been sold to private collectors before they were discovered and collected for the public. We can only assume that this is not the full collection. According to the details we were able to collect, this woman lived in the middle of the 19th century in England, given how many of her landscapes are clearly recognisable from that era. We call her,  YN, given the initials at the back of the paintings. Her subjects were mainly flowers and landscapes but this particular one, the male, is assumed to be her husband or secret lover. The title is very straight to the point. We estimate this painting took the longest, given how detailed it is. So we can assume she cared deeply for this man. His clothes also match with the mid-19th century fashion so it confirms the timeline."

Well. That didn't exactly help.

Mid-19th century.

No specific date.

England, mid-19th century.

You felt even further than before.

But you needed to see it again.

See him again. 

There were these feelings inside you that you just couldn’t explain.

You barely slept. The only thing you could see every time you closed your eyes was the painting. 

You needed to know more.

And so, the next day, you went back to the museum.

A/N: This is going to be a 10+ part series with each Chapter being short just like this one. Hope you enjoyed it. Each Chapter will come out weekly. The series will have its own taglist, let me know below in the replies and I will add everyone!

The above photo is not mine! Credit goes to the owner!

Series Masterlist

Oil Taglist: @b33l1ghtfu11h0n3y @usuallyunlikelyfox

Taglist: @fleursirvart @greenarrowhead @thisismysecrethappyplace @sincerelyfan @theoneanna @aestheticsandmarvel @rororo06 @castellandiangelo @destynelseclipsa @spilledinkindumpster @capsiclesdoll @puknow @alwayshave-faith @alex12948 @lxdyred  @imagines-by-a-typical-fangirl @anonymoussherlockandmarvelgeek @praline357 @trshngyn @avengers-r-us @violet-19999 @top1bbgloak   @manduse   @jacalineiscomingforyou  @mandoloriancookie @noname2246

~Masterlist~

ˇAO3ˇ

DO NOT STEAL, REPOST OR TRANSLATE ANY OF MY WORKS  

[kimtaegis]

This Christmas I'd like to share my love for this community by doing a little Xmas Gift Giving! I prepared some little presents that I would love to exchange for just one simple thing:

Send me an ask or make a post tagging me (#annietrack) in which you give a person that's part of armyblr the love they deserve. Whether it be you telling them how much they brightened your year, if there was a post of them that made you especially happy, what you wish for them for 2024, it's completely up to you; you can even gift them something, like a gif(set) or any other kind of art!

Of all the people who participate I will randomly choose five people that will receive some little presents from me. The presents are

🌙 1x Jimin's Photofolio with all inclusions ❄️ 1x 2 official photocards of your choice from my small pool of pc's that I would've sold otherwise (all in great condition) + lots of freebies 🎁 3x one bts gifset of your choice from me; it can be anything you want (yes, also a huge compilation if you'd like!)

Christmas at Annie's (I'm laughing writing this) will end on Taehyung's birthday, 12am KST on Saturday 30th December 2023. I will announce who will receive the gifts on Sunday, 7th January 2024 and will then contact the persons privately as well.

I kindly ask for you to follow me and reblog this post if you participate (reblogging just to spread the celebration is very welcome)!

For some more (important) info, please read below!

Lots of love,

Annie

I will cover all costs to get the first two presents to you (worldwide).

If you're only interested in one or two of these gifts, just put the respective emoji somewhere in your ask or in the tags! If there're no emojis, your name will come in all three selection pools (but please note: you will only receive one present max. I will randomly pick names in the pool order: Photofolio, photocards, gifsets. e.g. If you receive the photofolio, I'll take your name out of the other two pools. I hope this makes sense, if not, let me know!).

Since a lot of you like to keep yourselves anonymously/ might be too shy to express their love for someone openly, I would like to offer the option of sending asks on anon as well. In this case, please think of a unique pseudonym (no emojis please) which I can add to the participants' list(s). If you get chosen to receive a gift, please contact me on anon again, telling me your username so we can talk about everything else. I will keep your identity a secret, I promise.

Please please please tag or otherwise make clear who your ask or post is dedicated to so I can make sure they'll see it!!

I will start shipping out the presents the following week after the announcement!

Lastly, here are pictures of the Photofolio and the photocard pool for your consideration (I apologise for the quality of the pc photo; it's already dark as I'm uploading this)