Private Detective -Part 3- The EndPrivate Detective -Part 3- The End3 years ago in Profiles More Like This
Pravite Detective!EnglandxReader part 3: the end
It wasn't hard for (name) to figure out who did it. He was there all along, or so she thought. Backing out
of the bathroom, Arthur noticed the fear in her eyes.
"What is it, love? Do you know who could have done it?" Arthur asked. 'It all makes since now! The way
he acted, the flirty attitude, the tea leaf, and he had just taken off muddy shoes! Oh no! I-it was Arthur!'
(name) screamed in her head as she took off down the hallway with Arthur close behind.
"Wait (name) why are you running?!" Arthur asked confused.
"You killed him!"
"Wh-what?!" Arthur grabbed (name)'s hand and pulled her to him abruptly stopping her.
"What in the
bloody hell makes you think I did it?!"
"Just think about it! I'm stupid! You knew I would come to you for help! You knew that I would trust you
and never think you would do it! Why Arthur?! Why did you kill him?!"
"I didn't! I would never want to hurt you! I-I I bloody well love you!" Arthur gripped her arms
AmeliaAmelia3 years ago in Profiles More Like This
Hi there. My name is Amelia, but most people call me Amy. I am not from Illinois, in fact I'm from Scotland. I'm 18 and don't know much about the school. Anyway, I was sent here to complete my mission, which I don't think will be getting done anytime soon. I sure hope that he can wait a few weeks...
Altessa Syndrome Press ReleaseAltessa Syndrome Press Release3 years ago in Settings More Like This
Altessa Syndrome, (working title)
is a game following the journey of one of the five Imperial Vestals, Altessa, on her secret journey across the sea in a submarine, across dangerous seaways and enemy pickets.
The game is set in a great war fantasy period, with sorcery taking the place of diesel engines.
Military wizards and homunculi face the very real threat of sea-dragons and harpies, while brave sailors test their mettle against supernatural currents and changing seas.
The Vestals are the virginal order of Vesta, the mother goddess venerated by the Il-Batraz empire.
They are responsible for the maintenance of 5 great temples, where daily rituals must be presided over for the safety of their lands, for the native state of the world is one of storm, quake and fire, and only the power of Vesta stands between humanity and the annihilation of all the civilization humans have stove so many centuries for.
The game begins with the planning of a very important mission.
The Vestal of Aquilla,
Legend of the Chicken MonkeyLegend of the Chicken Monkey4 years ago in Settings More Like This
The Legend of the Chicken Monkey
You've heard of ghosts. You've heard of creatures like Bigfoot and the Loch Ness Monster. But, have you heard of the Chicken Monkey?
The Chicken Monkey, my friend, is the most horrible thing you will ever see. It's even hard to explain the thing. Basically, it is half chicken, half monkey. That sounds weird enough. But hear this, its eyes glow, and you see your life flash before your eyes.
This is what happened to me once. But, unlike some others, I survived. Here is my story.
I like to explore new things. That is the kind of man I am. People from around the world ask me to help with their supernatural problems. Sometimes I find amazing things, sometimes it is nothing nothing at all.
My name's James White. I'm rather tall and have shaggy brown hair. I have bright blue eyes. Ever since I was young, I was interested in things people cannot understand. When some people run from something they don't know what it is, I stay and check it out. I do
SuperimposeHe doesn't look like a gymnast. He's all button down shirts and frazzled grey hair framing wire spectacles, a picture perfect professorial archetype down to the very tips of his frayed shoelaces. But he was a gymnast once, or so he tells us, and I believe him because he smiles like he knows something while he's chatting before class.Superimpose3 years ago in Sketches More Like This
It's strange to see that image superimposed over the current one the distinguished professor in pressed khaki slacks and a jacket, worn brown loafers exuding a faintly courteous manner (you can always tell them by their shoes), and a ring on the fourth finger of his left hand versus the athletic kid who went to college for a semester and grew nine inches too tall to keep doing what he loved so he took up a tennis racquet instead. Gymnasts don't wear suit jackets; no steel mill worker has such manicured nails. But the images are all there, flickering just under the surface and bubbling up again when he's recounting stories about his days in Pi