#60s male brown eyes

[uncharismatic-fauna]

An Affinity for the Southern River Terrapin

The southern river terrapin (Batagur affinis), also known as the tungtung or the royal turtle, is a species of freshwater turtle residing, as its name implies, in the southern part of the Malaysian Peninsula, particularly along the western coast. They reside in estuaries, portions of large rivers that are regularly exposed to ocean tides.

While initially plain in appearance, the southern river terrapin can be visually striking. The body and shell are entirely black, or dark brown in females. The only spots of color are carried by males: bright yellow or white eyes and orange inner cheek flaps that are exposed when the mouth opens. Batagur affinis is also quite big, with females (the larger of the two sexes) reaching an average length of 62 cm (24 in) and a weight of 38 kg (83 lbs).

The tungtung is an omnivorous species. Its serrated beak allows it to feed on a variety of plants like grasses, algae, and fruits, as well as freshwater invertebrates like crustaceans and mollusks. Due to the high salinity of their habitats, they often leave the rivers and forage for food on land. The large size and thick shells of adults deters most predators. However, eggs and hatchlings are vulnerable to monitor lizards, otters, birds of prey, and crocodiles.

Mating for Batagur affinis occurs from October to February. Males and females remain relatively solo throughout the rest of the year, although they aren't overly territorial. Once a male locates a female, the two touch noses and he pulses his jaw to emphasize his bright orange cheek pouches and the white stripes on the inside of his throat. After copulation, the female lays a clutch of 20-40 eggs in nests dug in the sandy river bank. Young royal turtles hatch anywhere from 60-120 days later, depending on the temperature of the nest. Juveniles can take 18-22 years to reach maturity. Adults regularly reach ages well over 45, and individuals as old as 100 have been recorded.

Conservation status: The southern river turtle is considered Critically Endangered by the IUCN. Over-harvesting of both eggs and individuals has decimated populations, and those that remain are threatened by habitat destruction. However, both local and international conservation efforts have been underway to preserve the species and its ecosystem.

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Photos

Eng Heng Chan

Paul Calle

Thorn Sophun

[freak-accident419]

Strange Honey

Billy (Burn 2019) x GN!Reader

Summary: One night at a bar, you meet a very mysterious man with a burn on the side of his face. As the tense and strained person you see him as, you decide to offer him some ease, giving the wannabe cowboy one hell of a ride.

Word Count: 2.4k

Content: 18+ Smut, MDNI, gender neutral reader, Billy the wannabe cowboy, penetration (unspecified genitals for reader), oral (male and reader receiving), swearing, reader being referred to as ‘pretty’ and ‘slut’, unprotected sex, drinking

(A/n: PLEASE PLEASE listen to this song, it’s not only by small, indie band but it’s also just so fitting!!: 60s western cowboy vibe and horniness, it’s an amazing fit—just trust me!! Also I want it to be implied that the Melinda SA scene never happened prior in this fic, otherwise Billy would have some sort of PTSD that would probably not make him ready for anything sexual for a long time :( nevertheless, i hope you enjoy!!)

-

The moment he walked in through those doors, he instantly became a mystery. Someone you have easily became infatuated with by just the mere sight of him.

Sure, his getup was quite tasteless—the denim on denim and subtle cowboy boots that screamed ‘wannabe cowboy’—but that wasn’t what really captivated you, despite the additional charm of his pretty eyes and lips; it was the red, tender burn occupying an area of skin on the right side of his face.

He lets out a gruff sigh of exhaustion as he sat one stool away from you at the bar, incoherently grumbling his order to the bartender. You observe him for a while, before getting his attention by whistling softly at him. When he turned to look at you, it allowed you to see him from a closer distance from before, and your eyes slightly widened at the clearer sight of his burn.

“Holy shit, man. You look like hell,” you scoff, raising your glass of liquor to your lips, taking a short, yet calculated sip. “The fuck happened to you?”

He looked at you with a displeased scowl, probably offended by your reaction. “I don’t wanna fucking talk about it,” he replied bitterly in a low mutter.

Only amused, you chuckle playfully. “Rough night?”

He nods quietly in agreement as the bartender gave him his drink. Bourbon, you assumed. “Alright,” you begin. “So what’s a handsome thing like you doing in a shithole like this?”

You finally saw a smile—or perhaps a smirk—creep onto the corner of his lips. You could tell he was quite flattered by the ‘handsome’ comment. And that smile only reinforced it, proving your point even more—he was incredibly attractive. “To drink,” he answered, finally looking up at you. He was exceptional at keeping eye contact. The way his brown eyes bore into yours enhanced your intrigue for him.

“To forget?” You assume, raising an eyebrow. He nodded a yes, offering an amused and knowing grin. He liked you. “Well… Bourbon’s not gonna do shit for you in this case.”

You call over the bartender. “Another firewater, please, for the gentleman,” you tell, then looking back at the man with an alluring smirk. “On me,” you wink. “I’m Y/n, by the way.”

“Billy.” He let out a pleased chuckle, already fascinated by you. “Sorry, ‘firewater’?” He asked with a curious, blank face.

“It’s just liquor.” You scoff playfully, “And you call yourself a cowboy?”

“I never—”

“C’mon,” you snicker teasingly. “The jacket? The shirt? The jeans? And the fuckin’—fuckin’ cowboy boots?” You scoff as you look at him up and down. Checking him out, almost. “The belt buckle, however, is very impressive.”

The charming, brown-haired man grinned with a self-satisfied huff under his breath. He looked to the bartender as he abruptly gives him the drink you ordered him, then looked back at you, the slight curl of his lips still intact. “So what’s your whole deal then, hm? What’s a pretty little thing like you doing in this very shithole?” He asks, referencing back to your cheeky question.

“I’m, uh… I’m also here to forget,” you pursed your lips then smirked as you answer him. The man shrugs in response and grabs his drink.

“Well, then. To the shitty events that led us to this shitty bar,” he raised his glass and then you raised yours.

“Cheers,” you mutter amusedly, and the two of you take a swig of your drinks.

Billy nearly choked on it as he scowled immediately, looking down at his glass with humorous contempt. “What the fuck is this shit?”

You felt your throat burn acidly, yet also gratifyingly as you gulp down your liquor, giggling at the sight of him. “Firewater,” you replied as you heard him mutter swears of complaints to himself.

“Yeah, no shit,” he retorted scornfully, “It’s strong as fuck.”

You raise an eyebrow, preparing to tease him. “You sure you’re a real cowboy?” You scoff with an endearing grin.

“Seriously? You’re still on about that?” He says in disbelief, yet he enjoyed the conversation nonetheless. “What, do I need a red bandana and a cowboy hat—”

“You definitely need a cowboy hat,” you chuckle. “That’s exactly what you’re missing.”

“So I need the whole getup?” He raises an eyebrow. You nod. “Yeah?”

“Yeah.” He was so attracted to your smile.

“Okay, so like… even a lasso?”

You laugh. “Of course. You can’t just be all hat and no cattle.”

He snickered under his breath. “I’m guessing I’m gonna need a horse as well?”

You pursed your lips, laughing once more. And he was addicted to it. “Hmm, a horse? Yeah, not so much,” you reply dismissively.

“Oh yeah? Isn’t that, like, standard cowboy criteria?” He huffs, staring into your eyes curiously, which reminded you again of his immaculate eye contact. “Why not?”

You take a confident swig of your firewater, feeling the burning sensation in your throat linger, licking your lips and returning his gaze…

“I know something else you can ride.”

* * *

He pushes you against the wall, hands under your shirt moving up and down your sides frantically as his his lips move roughly with yours. The confined atmosphere of the motel room was extremely hot, and you weren’t sure if it was from all the friction that you and Billy produced or the shitty, cheap air-conditioning. After all, you two were in a rush, drunk from arousal, and desperate for each other’s bodies. And because a dirty bathroom in a shitty bar deemed to be too unsanitary for your taste, you found the nearest motel.

“Hell,” you mutter into Billy’s lips hotly. You felt him grip onto your hips and start to grind on you, using the wall as a leverage as he rolled his hips onto yours. He muttered a curse as the friction of his jeans against yours had satisfyingly aggravated you both. The two of you whined from the grinding until you pushed him off of yourself, shoving him hard against the wall and going down onto your knees.

You begin to unbuckle the belt that you earlier regarded as impressive, due to its authentically cowboy-like quality, then unbuttoned and unzipped his tight, light-wash jeans, dragging it down to his ankles as well as his boxers. His cock sprang out immediately after you pulled down the cloth, and you held in a moan, admiring the sight.

“Fuck, Billy,” you breathe in awe, helping him step out of the clothes that were previously sitting at his ankles. You look up at him once—again, he was graceful at eye contact, and you could easily read his desperation.

You began to smear his precum around his slit, bringing out a small whimper from him. You start to hear him panting once your hand is around his dick, pumping at a slow pace. Then, his eyes rolled up to the back of his head in pleasure, letting out a sigh of arousal as the tempo of your hand increased.

You kept your hand at the base of his cock as you started to leave kitten licks on his sensitive pink tip, Billy eliciting sensual hums until your mouth eagerly welcomes in his head. He lets out a soft groan as your lips are around him, sucking the head as your hand moves up and down to stroke his shaft, your other hand resting on his thigh for support.

He bites back a moan as he choked out your name, and you feel his hands on your head once you move your mouth further down as far as you could. Now, you let both of your hands grip onto his porcelain hips for better control, your head bobbing up and down his girthy cock.

“M-mm, fuck, Y/n, you’re s-so fucking good for me, fuck,” he rasped, gripping onto your hair, letting his fingers tangle in the messy strands. Your cheeks flush as you increase your suction around him, finally hearing him moan, his vocals echoing in the empty motel room. “That’s it… yeah… fuck…” His volume increases once you fondle his balls, caressing him with your palm.

You feel yourself lose control of the entire situation as his hold on your hair tightened, him beginning to thrust his cock into your mouth, practically fucking your throat. Tears begin to well up in your eyes as you look up at him, nearly gagging on his dick.

“G-god,” he mumbled, using both hands on your head to practically use you as if your mouth was his own personal fleshlight. His moans began to increase in volume as you heard pathetic whines of desperation—but you couldn’t say anything, of course; you were the one spurring muffled moans, choking around his cock.

“Shit… Shit—I’m—fuck, I’m gonna cum,” he breathed heavily, increasing his pace until he came, spilling his white, bitter fluid in your mouth, choking on his seed as you struggled to swallow it all—but you did.

Without giving either of you time to catch your breaths, Billy manhandled you, grabbing onto you and throwing you down on the squeaky, cheap mattress that the motel had to offer. He nearly ripped off your pants and your underwear along with it, moving his head between your legs and holding your thighs onto his shoulders. You felt the cold metal of his golden ring on your skin as his hands squeezed your thighs. You moaned out his name as you felt his tongue work on you, sucking and licking at your flesh.

“Ah—f-fuck—Billy!”

Your hips jolted at the sensation of his mouth pleasuring you, your knuckles turning pale as you grip tightly onto the sheets below you. His tongue moved down to prod at your hole, wetting it before his tongue would enter, making you release a prolonged, high-pitched whine. Almost instantly, he replaces it with a finger, pushing the digit in and out steadily, not hesitating to add another, the pace of the thrusts increasing until he finally pulled them out, watching you whimper from the loss of touch.

He quickly removes your shirt, lifting it off from above, and after taking off his jacket and throwing it to the side, you frantically unbuttoned his shirt, getting him out of the sleeves until the two of you were both completely naked.

He held you down once more on your back aggressively, sitting on his knees with his hands on the mattress between your head, a thin, silver necklace dangling above your face that hung from Billy’s neck. Your cheeks were flushed red and you panted as he lined up his body with yours, and finally eased his cock through your entrance. And once he was perfectly in, that was his signal.

He thrusted his hips quickly into yours, shoving his dick inside of you deeper with every snap of his hips, abusing your hole. His loud grunts easily transitioned into whimpers to full-on moans, hearing a couple of ‘fuck’’s and ‘oh god’’s. But you—you were even worse. You were under him, being fucked into the mattress, crying, screaming, and babbling. You were sure that the other guests of this motel could hear you from the thin walls, alongside the noisy bed creaking.

“Love how you’re taking my cock… Just look at you,” he muttered before letting out a high-pitched whimper and continuing his movements. “Feel so fucking good around me.”

His hands move down to your hips, digging his nails into your skin as he pulled you to his dick, thrusting even faster and deeper than before. Your soft whines were rhythmic, synced with each motion that his hips gave. You enjoyed the delicious sensation of him stretching you and your walls, tightening around him flawlessly. His shiny, silver necklace continued to sway above you, swinging with each rapid, harsh thrust.

You abruptly yank onto that thin chain, pulling him down to meet your lips. He moved his soft, wet lips with yours passionately and fervently, your tongue exploring his mouth, dancing with his. His thrusts never faltered as he kissed down to your jaw then to your neck, even nibbling and sucking in areas to give you hickeys.

You breathe heavily as you felt your body being flipped, Billy using his strong hands to move you onto your stomach, the side of your face being pressed onto the pillow. Then he pushed into your hole once again, one hand on your hip and the other on the top of the wooden bed frame, gripping it tight as he began to move. The bed squeaked again, its sounds mirroring the motion that took place on it. You were afraid he was going to fucking break it.

“O-oh! F-fuck! Don’t—Don’t fucking stop!” You cry desperately in between heavy breaths.

You were nearly drooling on the pillow as you moan loudly, Billy pounding you forcefully from behind, on top of you as if you were a fucking horse—he was a cowboy, alright.

“You like that? Hm? You like having my cock inside of you like this? Fucking slut…”

You began to feel his rhythm falter, his body gradually giving out with stuttered hips and abrupt, deep jerks inside you, panting and moaning heavily, his face flushed and sweaty.

“Fuck, baby, I’m close,” he groans, the erotic sound of skin slapping against skin only increasing as his nails begin to dig deeper into the bed frame, fucking into you as if you were a lifeless sex doll, practically using you. But he had respect for you, of course, feeling pleasured entirely by your body and noises.

“M-me too,” you whine, clenching onto the white bedsheets beneath you, feeling a knot in your stomach slowly begin to unravel.

Billy persisted to slam his hips vigorously against your ass, ramming his thick cock inside of you as the two of you moaned desperately, your vocals arousing each other as well.

“I-I’m—I’m gonna cum,” he mutters.

“Fuck—me too—I-I’m—”

“Fuck!” He whines.

And finally, with one last, strong thrust of his hips, he came deeply and heavily inside you, his warm, white fluids painting your walls, spurting selfishly yet generously deep inside of you. A loud, lewd moan escaped his pretty lips as his eyes shut tight, focusing on all the pleasure and release that he just received.

And not even a second later, you followed, crying out his name and cumming around his length, clutching the blankets and feeling full and filled completely with his semen.

Billy collapsed beside you, and the two of you laid there, panting heavily and catching each other’s breaths, all fucked out.

“Well, yee-haw, motherfucker,” you mumble amusedly to yourself, retrieving your pants to grab a cigarette from its pocket.

[cypherdecypher]

Animal of the Day!

Rock Ptarmigan (Lagopus muta)

(Photo by Cameron Eckert)

Conservation Status- Least Concern

Habitat- Greenland; Iceland; Northern North North America; Northern Asia

Size (Weight/Length)- 600 g; 35 cm; 60 cm wingspan

Diet- Leaves; Flowers; Berries; Seeds; Plant buds

Cool Facts- The rock ptarmigan is one of the only birds to have the ability to change color. These grouse are brown in summer and slowly switch to white over a period of several weeks once snow begins to fall. Instead of migrating south when temperatures drop, rock ptarmigan shelter down and brave the storm. Unable to store large amounts of fat like other overwintering birds, rock ptarmigan are forced to constantly eat to stay warm. Males sport bright red eye combs that are used to gain mates. The brighter the color, the healthier the rock ptarmigan, and the more likely he is to pass on his genes.

Rating- 11/10 (I still have no idea how to pronounce their name.)

[oracle-of-dream]

Nothing But Bad News

Summary: In the bar you work at you live by three rules. 1 - Don't walk anywhere at night alone. 2 - Never tell a client too much. 3 - Never look for trouble.

Warnings: Male Reader, Bartender! Reader Drinking, Smoking, Gangster Leehan, Flirting with older men, Mentions of Police,

Wordcount: 2.5k

Making ends meet has been hard. Balancing a medical social life, school, and a night job to pay bills. You barely have any time to yourself to rest and relax at all.

The alarm jolted you out of your nap. Your naps were scheduled between classes and shifts at work since you never had enough time for a full night of sleep. You rolled out of bed, knocking your textbooks onto the floor. Most of the pages were folded with sticky notes, notes you'd taken during classes or that your friends had helped give you when you slept in class. Scooping them up, you tucked the books into your backpack and set the bag by the door to take with you.

It was time for another shift at the bar, hopefully, there would be some of the heavy tippers coming by since it was a Friday night. Most of the heavier tippers were the ones who liked talking and asking questions. You hated telling those drunkards anything, but anything for a good tip at the end of the night. Sometimes you'd walk out with $300 if you were a "good boy". Luckily no one's taken the opportunity to try and press you for more service other than that few overly drunk new patrons, but management was pretty on top of security. They even let you study behind the bar when it wasn't too busy.

You slipped on a jacket and a dark-collared shirt. You learned your lesson about wearing light-colored shirts after someone threw up on you. Much easier to work in dark clothes.

The bus stop was a few minutes walk from your apartment. The weather was decently so you didn't rush to the stop as you soaked in the last drops of the sunset. You waited at the stop for about ten minutes before the bus arrived. Your usual spot at the back, by a window, was open and you took a seat. Headphones in, music on shuffle, and a short snooze on the bus. Like clockwork, you woke up three stops before yours. There were mostly familiar faces on the bus, the same faces who ride often to go their several ways. As your stop rolled on, you stood from your seat and your feet hit the pavement in a fast walk. It was dark with the street lights few and far between. You learned fast that it was always better to mind your business and not look at anyone, especially if they were looking at you. Keep your head down.

You stopped at a street light, waiting for the signal, as another man stood oddly close to you. Maybe a pickpocket, but you knew that you'd just give your money away if they reached for your wallet – as if you had any to lose. The man had long brown hair, a black leather jacket, and baggy jeans. Probably, 20 years old – maybe a little younger, but the shadows on his face made his facial structure stand out. He glanced over at you, and you looked down at your phone. It was a good idea to get this look in case you needed to identify him for robbing you, but getting caught doing that wouldn't be a good idea... The signal lit up and you crossed the street with other people waiting. The man's hand grazed yours, and you grabbed him and pushed his hand away from you.

"Sorry," You muttered, pretending you'd just bumped into him. You looked slightly over your shoulder to see the man looking downcast at you among the crowd, not moving at all. He locked eyes with you, just for a moment, before you turned back around. It was time to leave.

Walking into the bar, soft jazz playing from the live band and men were already sitting and drinking at their tables. Most of them were older – 50's to 60's, and smoked fat cigars. Some played cards most talked and laughed with each other.

"Whoa! Here comes the hot stuff!" One man whistled as you walked in. A regular, Mr. Tony. He always told you to call him Tony, but policy says you have to call everyone Mr. or Ms. Your boss was an old-fashioned man, gender-neutral terms were a little over his head.

"It's good to see you, Mr. Tony. I hope you plan on paying for your own drinks tonight, I always end up with too many angry gamblers in here when you start playing." You threw a smile in his direction which got a wink in return from Mr. Tony.

"Well, you can always sit with me and play a few hands! We all know you're better at this than us," He chuckled.

You stepped behind the bar and into the storage room. The lockers were old but useable – but wouldn't lock though. You put your backpack inside the locker, checking all your belongings before your shift. Inside the locker was a note.

Hey Champ,

The other tender called in sick today, I'll be on call but I'm a lil busy. If you need me, call me – But I know you can handle these lousy bastards. Keep them from makin' a mess.

- Boss

You rolled your eyes at the note. Of course, you'd have no extra help tonight. It was like that every Friday night. So much for extra study time...

Stretching yourself in preparation for a long shift, you cracked your neck and knuckles, let out a long sigh, and then walked back to the front of the house. "Okay, fellas, the bar's open. Who's first?" You asked. One after another, all the men would take their time coming up to the bar to make requests. Some wanted singles, others wanted shots for the tables. You'd been working there long enough to earn some respect amongst the clients, so they were more than willing to be polite, especially with the muscular bouncer watching from the side exit door. She never spoke, Boss called her, Silent but Deadly, and the name stuck. SBD for short.

Everything was going about as well as you expected. It was a semi-busy night; a few spilled drinks, some first-timers complained, and some occasionally tried shooting their shot with you. At about 12 AM, two hours before closing, the main door opened and everyone got quieter, the room got colder, and expressions hardened. You knew what that meant – trouble just walked in. Great.

You didn't look over, just shouted from the bar, "Welcome in, take a seat. If you wanna order, you have to come up here." Pretending to clean a cup, you did everything in your power not to look in their direction. But, as luck would have it, the figure sat right at the bar. The other patrons at the bar moved and found a table somewhere else, leaving you alone with this person. You bit your lip and swallowed hard. It's just another customer. "How can I help you?" You looked up to see the face of the man from the street.

He smirked at seeing you, letting his head lean back slightly so he could look down at you, his nose, a straight slope, pointed up slightly. "We meet again," He chuckled. His voice was deep and he spoke softly.

You cocked your head to the side. "Sorry, I don't know you. And no we haven't met in a past life."

"You've heard that one before?"

You shrugged. "A few dozen times tonight."

He put his elbows on the bar. "What's a pretty boy like you doing in a place like this? Community service in an old folks home?" The draggers he was getting from the onlookers were almost visible. Everyone clearly didn't like him, but that wasn't enough to call for security to kick him out. Boss had always been clear that there needed to be a good reason for kicking someone out. Otherwise, it could bite us in the ass.

"Can I get you something?" You slip a glass into your hand.

He took a second to think, "Sure. Got any lemonade?"

You filled the glass with lemonade, tossed some ice, and slid it to him. "Call if you need anything else, I got more guests," You started to walk away but he whistled at you. Normally, you wouldn't respond to a whistle but on instinct, you turned on your heels. "Yes, sir?"

"Don't I get one of those little umbrellas? With the flowers?"

You clapped your hands in front of you. "No, sir. I'm sorry, we don't do that here."

"Eh, that's a shame." He slumped in his seat. You tried to turn around again. "What's your name?" He asked.

Oh, this was going to be a long night. "My name is Y/n," You replied.

"I'm Leehan."

"Interesting name."

"Not my real one."

You'd heard enough of this guy. It was easy to tell he'd go one till close if you gave him the chance. "Can I go, or do you need something?"

"What's the rush? Can't you talk to me for a little, just us?" Leehan snuck an eyebrow raise at the end of his sentence.

"I'm sorry. I'm working. If there's anything you wanna say – you'll have to say it in front of everyone."

"What about when you're not working–"

You leaned closer to him on the bar. "Mr. Leehan. I'm trying to be nice and chat, but I gotta work. Otherwise, I'll lose this job. So if you don't mind, I'll be stepping over there." You started walking away before adding one more thing, "And you shouldn't ask a bartender about after-hours business unless they offer it. There are dangerous people on these streets." You knew you'd get chewed out for that later, but he was really starting to push your buttons.

Leehan smiled at you. "You're kinda cute when upset. Sorry for holding you up, go ahead and work."

The other patrons were watching the bar like hawks. While they were all old-timers, they seemed to like you and were more than a little protective of you. When you got to Mr. Tony's table, he waved you closer to him. "Do you need this guy outta here?" He asked.

You shook your head. "That's alright, Mr. Tony."

He sucked his teeth with a loud pop. "You know how I feel about you calling me, Mister."

"And you know how Boss feels about me dropping the formalities," You scooped up the empty glasses and placed them on a tray.

Tony scratched his beard. "Keep an eye on this guy. He's nothing but bad news."

"I keep my eye on all of you."

"I'm serious. That boy–"

You nodded. "I understand. Thank you, Mr. Tony." You finished your rounds and walked back to the bar. Leehan's lemonade was still the same as you'd left it. He'd not even taken a sip of it. You pointed at the drink, "Not want you wanted?"

Leehan shook his finger, "I wanted to drink it while talking to you. So I don't mind waiting."

You put the tray down and started to rinse the cups, placing each in their slot under the bar. "So, what do you want to talk about, Mr. Leehan."

"I like, Mr. Leehan. It's so cute." He leaned back in his seat. "Say it, again?"

You sighed. "Mr. Leehan."

"But with feeling, like you don't hate saying it."

You bit your tongue so you didn't curse at him. After a deep breath, you smiled brightly. "Mr. Leehan, are you enjoying talking to me?"

He nodded. "Yes. You're divine."

"Well, I'm glad you think so. You're not so bad." That really made Leehan chuckle. The two of you talked for the rest of your shift. He inquired about school and work. You gave the least amount of information possible. Each time you tried to ask about him, he'd turn it around and ask you more questions. These types of people were always tricky... By the end of the shift, you'd closed out everyone's tabs. Clients went on their way, saying goodbye to you. Mr. Tony stayed the longest before it was time for him to go.

"Be careful out there, hot stuff," He warned.

"I always am, Mr. Tony," You replied.

He glared at Leehan as he left out the door. Meanwhile, Leehan hadn't taken his eyes off you, sipping at his drink occasionally until he finished it.

"Well, Mr. Leehan, thank you so much for such a lovely night. I hope we can see each other again." You took his cup from him and tried to hurry him out.

"Do you need a ride home? It's dark out," He asked.

"No, that's alright. I've got a ride." You always took the bus to and from work, but no one knew that. You'd always mention someone coming to get you at the end of the night so they'd leave you alone, but no one had ever offered you a ride before... Leehan left with a smile and a wave as SBD locked the door behind him. You look at Leehan's seat, to find a wallet in his chair. He'd left it behind!

"Hey, a customer left his wallet, I'll be right back," You told SBD as you unlocked the door.

Outside, it was darker than usual. The lights from the bar were always unreliable, so you had to use your phone's flashlight. You spotted Leehan leaning against a motorcycle, putting on gloves. "Mr. Leehan! You left your wallet inside." You walked over and handed it to him.

He took it with a smile, "Sweet and nice. Should I be counting the dollars in here?"

"I didn't take anything–"

"I was kidding!" Leehan opened his wallet to show a wad of cash. He took out a handful of bills and handed it to you. "I forgot to tip you."

It was at least $400! "I'm sorry, this is way too much for just one lemonade."

"Consider it a thank you then. For keeping me company, talking to me, and returning my wallet."

"I–"

Leehan shoved the cash into your hand. "I mean it. Plus, there's way more coming your way. I'll be sure to see you again." The thought of more money piqued your interest. This tip alone was enough to cover half your rent. He continued, "I need someone I can talk to every once in a while. And you're pretty interesting,"

"Just talk?"

Leehan shrugged, "We can add on to that if needed. Of course, more payment would be required from me for anything extra."

You considered it while holding the cash in your hand. "Sure... If it's just talking, then come back whenever."

"Excellent." He extended his hand to you. You shook it. "I'll see you soon then."

You felt eyes on you, coming from somewhere but you didn't know where. Something about Leehan felt off, but you knew that it was too late to back off him now. After Leehan left, driving off on this motorcycle, you went back inside to close the bar as SBD helped with the cleaning. It was about 3:30 AM when there was a knock at the door.

You sighed. "Some people really don't get what closed means," you complained as you approached the door. Checking the peephole in the door, you saw two people, a man and a woman dressed in black looking back at you. Without opening the door, you shouted, "Sorry folks, we're closed for the night. Come back tomorrow!"

"We're here to speak with the bartender who worked tonight. We know that he's still inside. We're with the police, and have a few questions." The man flashed a badge at the door. Your skin ran cold. The cops!? What did they need you for? You thought about calling your boss, but there's not a chance he'd get to you fast enough. The male officer spoke again, "Please, he's not in any trouble. We could use his help and some of the answers he could provide could save some lives."

Lives!?

You swallowed your heart in your throat and cracked the door, the chain lock still latched. "Yes, officers?"

"Hello, young man. Can you step outside and talk with us?"

You shook your head. "Any questions you have, I'll answer them from in here."

The female officer smiled at you. "Okay, as long as we're able to ask our questions. Once we're done, we'll leave you alone. We're just here to ask about a patron from tonight." She reached into her pocket and showed her phone, a picture, of you and a man dressed in leather shaking hands. "Do you know this man?"

[ambrosialdesire]

the lone minotaur

18+ DARK CONTENT BELOW, MINORS AND BLANK BLOGS DNI

𓆩♡𓆪 ACHELOUS "LOUIS" BELLOCK   ↳ nickname: louis (pronouced lewis)

𓆩♡𓆪 AGE   ↳ ~2040 years old (relatively young for minotaurs); 41 years old in human years

𓆩♡𓆪 BIRTHDAY   ↳ april 30th

𓆩♡𓆪 HEIGHT   ↳ 6'10'' (human), 8' (minotaur)

𓆩♡𓆪 SPECIES   ↳ minotaur; currently disguised as a human

𓆩♡𓆪 CAREER   ↳ rancher/farmer: specializes in juice and animal based products (such as cheeses, milk, wool, etc.)

𓆩♡𓆪 AREA OF RESIDENCE   ↳ wicklow ranch on the outerskirts of the neighboring town winterborough (~250 miles away from the city Lunaris)

𓆩♡𓆪 APPEARANCE (i'm bad at describing since i rely on memory + drawings)   ↳ human             — a heavy set, tan male with fluffy dark brown hair             — dark olive green eyes, very tired looking/relaxed             — long scar going down his right eye             — low maintenance: retains a short beard, chest/body hair, arm hair, leg hair, etc. he's just a very hairy dude.             — calloused hands, very work-worn             — back scars from past; mostly healed over but still prominent in sight and touch             — ear piercings on his right ear             — nipple piercings, usually horseshoe shaped (got them when he still was under human ownership and still keeps them on as a reminder)   ↳ partial transformation             — relatively the same, height becomes slightly taller by a few inches             — horns grow in; pale ivory in color and smooth to the touch             — lower canines grow out; left canine is slightly chipped             — tail grows back, still able to be hidden in his pants             — slight more hairier             — nails on hands start turning black (hoof color)   ↳ minotaur             — head turns into a complete bull/cow head; brown fur, floppy ears, horns + canines grow all out to max size             — legs turn into bull/cow legs, feet turn into hooves             — torso + arms stay relatively human in appearance             — height is at full standing length             — long tail is fully grown out             — has to wear a loincloth due to having no clothes at this size             — considered to be an "abnormal" minotaur due to his underbite/outgrown canines and his tail (he's seen depictions of his species and he believes he's abnormal)

𓆩♡𓆪 PERSONALITY (i'm also really bad at explaining this lmfao)   ↳ achelous considers himself a rather isolated man. once scorned and feared by mankind, and used for his immense strength prior to the creation/reliance to machinery, achelous shares no fondness for them at all. most of these feelings hasn't changed even a little as the years went on, and he continues to try and keep contact with the townspeople at a minimum. he's not unnecessarily or outright violent towards the ~30k town population in particular as they're rather peaceful, but when it comes to city folk or outside tourists, his somewhat calm demeanor changes drastically towards them.

  ↳ achelous believes that he is a cruel monster, but the townspeople do not think the same. they genuinely believe that he's rather a sweet gentleman, seeing that he's a big softie towards the children and the elderly. he's actually more indifferent and hostile to adult men and women, having the belief that they are the cruelest when humans are in their 20s-60s.

  ↳ achelous is a particular rule follower, especially on his ranch. break his rules, he'll break you until you follow them correctly.

  ↳ he's stoic and straight to the point, there will never be a day where he sugarcoats his words. lying to him is similar to breaking the rules, so he's not fond of not being honest.

  ↳ achelous has a pretty even temperament unless there's a rule breaker, annoying human from the city/outside, or brats. his punishments are down right cruel, and that's coming from someone that had personally experienced the worst from humanity.

  ↳ achelous can have his flirty moments, but only if he's wasted from the alcohol he makes since normal alcohol isn't strong enough. his attempts are rather poor due to his lack of socializing and picking up cues, so he normally comes off as sleazy with an ego, but he's really trying his best.

  ↳ though it may not seem like it most of the time, achelous is rather possessive and protective over the one he loves. he has pretty conservative views when it comes to having a family, believing that the man must provide for the woman while the woman takes care of the kids and the home. his cruel words and actions make it so his love stays (as that's the only form of affection he learned how to portray), and his last resort is usually harming/threatening/killing the one closest to his love.

  ↳ achelous is a good convincer, it's why his products are usually sought after in the farmer's market every sunday. it's technically not lying when what he says and believes is true.

  ↳ of course, achelous prefers not to socialize unless it's absolutely necessary, but he's so good at fixing things and helping others out accidentally that he's constantly requested around for his assistance. he doesn't really want to do it, but if it gets them off his back and property, he will.

  ↳ achelous is hard-working, he hates bad/lazy workers and prefers to do things his own way. that's why there's no other farmhands/workers besides him, not including his obvious distaste for humans. from 5:30 am to 7:30 pm, he follows his routine to a tee every day. sundays are his breaks, even if he technically doesn't really need it.

  ↳ he's the most fatherly out of all my posted ocs, probably due to the face that he's the one that's completely determined and decently stable enough to start a family. achelous has also been waiting for the same species as him, but since he never seen another minotaur for most of his life, his patience is growing thin and he may have to take to a human mate the longer he waits.

  ↳ achelous has extreme guilt/shame over his true form, it's why he managed to find a witch to help him appear more human (ironic isn't it). to him, it's a protectant from being even more outcasted, despite his consistent insistence to be left alone. his partial/full transformation only comes out when his emotions become extremely high (mostly out of anger, but can come out in states of high arousal). he has quite the steady composure, and is very in-tune with his emotions, giving him that needed control.

𓆩♡𓆪 ABILITIES   ↳ extreme strength             — can lift up multiple logs or hay bales without struggle             — occasionally lifts up his animals to make sure they're right where they need to be   ↳ intelligence/experience             — due to his long-lived life and the experiences he's gone through, he's rather quickly decisive on what to do/say             — this unfortunately makes him the "i-told-you-so"/"this-is-what-you-get" type   ↳ heightened senses             — minotaurs have near perfect vision and heightened senses (taste and scent especially)             — due to this, achelous has quick reflexes and reacts to situations accordingly. this can also make him vulnerable to extremely strong smells or sudden bright lights.   ↳ endurance/speed             — achelous rarely or doesn't even get tired, sometimes his daily routine gets finished earlier if he's at the top of his game. he merely fakes exhaustion to look less suspicious to the townspeople, that's the only time he lies to them since it's for his protection.             — due to his species type, he's rather quick on his feet. not as much as normal minotaurs (if there are) due to his heftier build.

𓆩♡𓆪 BACKGROUND   ↳ around the start of the roman empire years, achelous was born to a lower class family. to their horror, he was born with a calf's head and legs, believing that their gods have spited them even more. rather than killing him to be done with it, they chose to sell their newborn to a higher status family, seeing that he'd be used for their entertainment. there was never such a creature as him, only passing legends and stories, no one truly thought that a minotaur could possibly exist. they were paid a good sum, and achelous' fate was finally sealed. as he grew up, he was tormented with their mockery, forced to work in the fields from day to night with no breaks. achelous was the face of jokes and laughs during their lavish parties, food constantly thrown at his face and being tossed about for their amusement. this so-called family of his abused the poor minotaur, making sure that he knew his place and how disgusting he was to everyone around. even as they dragged him around publicly, he was forced to wear a hood and cloak, but his size was impossible to hide and the people around would tear at his disguise to taunt jeers at him, constantly leaving him filthy and bloody at the end of the day. it's strange though. no matter how much he was hit, how many wounds they left on his back, achelous never fought back. he himself never knew why, even to this day.

  ↳ as the empire finally fell apart, achelous managed to finally escape, not without burning the house down and making sure he saw his abusers' faces contort as they burned alive while he ran off. hiding in a boat traveling to where england is now, he stayed there for years underneath the docks, surviving on whatever he was able to find, until he heard word of travel to "india" and managed to sneak onto the next boat going there. once he reached the americas, he traveled further into the south, around where mississippi, tennessee, alabama, and georgia is currently located. achelous finally found the freedom is wanted for so long, finally building his own home and farm, ensuring that no other human may make their way on his land.

  ↳ this peace didn't last long, well, to him at least it didn't. at this time, he had previously sought out a witch that was able to alter his appearance semi-permanently, so long as he didn't lose control of himself. achelous now is roughly 2000 years old, and a town had begun to be built nearby his ranch. winterborough, from what he's heard from others as he sold his products at the market, a new town for new beginnings. he didn't care, so long as they didn't bother him or figure out he lived there. they figured it out. the first group of townspeople decided to greet him, since they're the ones sorta causing a disturbance as the homes and buildings were still being constructed. to achelous' surprise, they were kind, offering him gifts and words of praise about the work he's done for himself. he's... he's never experience this before, he could tell that they were being genuine from their smiles and expressions. hm... maybe these humans weren't so bad. as the years went on, they never quite questioned his origins or why it seems that he never quite ages the same as them, achelous brought them a good amount of financial stability in their small town and he was overall just a great guy, even if he was a little antisocial.

  ↳ achelous is still not openly fond of humankind in general, but he is rather protective over winterborough and its residents. it had grown into a place where he thought of as a warm home, minus his ranch. he actually knows everyone by name, who's family member belongs to which; achelous cares deeply, even if he doesn't show it. the townspeople all know him as well, they like to say that he's their guardian (which is mostly right since there's barely any crime in their town). they all adore and deeply trust achelous for what he has done for them, but they still don't know his true nature, his true form. all in all, the townspeople and achelous' relationship towards one another is symbiotic.

𓆩♡𓆪 OTHER INFO   ↳ achelous shows up to every town event, to everyone's surprise. they know he's not really fond of interacting with everyone, but his intentions are to ensure that the tourists/city folk isn't causing any trouble for them. he hates crowds, but he hates newcomers even more.

  ↳ the town only knows him as louis bellock, achelous thinks they don't have the ability to pronounce his actual name, so he lets them call him louis. bellock was made up on the spot when he was asked.

  ↳ when the first townspeople met achelous, he was a complete rugged mess. all his hair was completely outgrown, his clothes were mostly in rags, and he kinda smelled like dirt and grass. he was pretty frightening as a first appearance, and they also kinda assumed he was a squatter before he clarified that he was the owner of the ranch. it was then achelous decided he had to keep a decent appearance.

  ↳ his voice is on the lower octave, very gruff and rough. achelous almost has a complete southern accent, but still has hints of a greek/roman one that occasionally slips out. he's also very blunt sounding, almost as if he's bored or very uninterested with a conversation, and he'll usually only talk in a few words or less if possible. sometimes it'll come out scratchy or crackly if he hasn't spoke in a while.

  ↳ achelous owns 2 kangal shepherd dogs and 2 bernese mountain dogs, they're all male.             — agre (kangal)             — hyrcanus (kangal)             — nebrophonos (bernese)             — ichnobates (bernese)

  ↳ achelous had to teach himself how to read and write, and thanks to the library and this new-fangle internet, he managed to learn much quicker. his penmanship isn't the best, but it's still legible.

  ↳ achelous's sexual orientation can be considered to be aroace since he never met anyone like him and most humans disgust him anyways. however, due to his conservative values, he's more interested with the female gender. he's also kinda still a virgin, due to the fact that he literally has no experience with romance/sex in general.

  ↳ achelous is skilled at the guitar (he had years to learn and perfect it), and he'll often play it deep into the night in front of the fireplace.

(will continue to update this whenever i get ideas)

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

[yanderecrazysie]

Idol Chapter 2: Game Start

I decided to keep it as Haikyuu, since that poll was winning.

Chapter One: here

Characters: Kozume Kenma

WARNINGS: swearing, Doom being ported to a handheld gaming system

You chewed on your watermelon-flavored bubblegum, your lidded eyes giving off the impression of boredom. In reality, you were not even remotely bored- more like a nervous wreck. You exited the car and swaggered up to the door of the massive building in front of you, trying to look more confident than you felt.

Aunt Rika clearly sensed your hidden feelings, because she took your hand in hers and gave it a squeeze. Gritting your teeth, you walked through the door and to the elevator. Aunt Rika pressed the number 12 and the elevator began to move.

You looked down at your combat boots, suddenly feeling a little self-conscious… No, fuck that, this was a great decision!

You stood straighter. You weren’t going to change who you were just because this was a corporate environment.

The elevator opened to a modern lounge area with leather couches, huge windows, and sleek decor, like a sculpted bust, nice paintings, and countless- I mean, countless- posters of the same five boys you had seen in the autographed photo in the car.

A large desk stood against the wall but had no one behind it. You glanced around, playing with the hem of your suit.

“Hello, Kenma, this is your new assistant manager!” Aunt Rika announced, making you jolt a little in surprise.

Confused, you looked around the empty room, wondering who the fuck she was was talking to. Then, you spotted him, sunken into the couch and slouching heavily, his pudding cup brown-to-blonde hair barely showing over the arm of the couch. 

Immediately, your mind blanked. Shit, I’m meeting one already? I was not prepared! And wasn’t his surname Kozume? Is Aunt Riza so familiar with him that she calls him by his first name? Or do all idols go by their first names? 

While you were frantically chewing your gum at 60 mph, your aunt walked over to the couch and sat down next to the male. To your surprise, he didn’t so much as blink at either her greeting nor her presence.

You walked closer to get a better look at the idol and found that his golden-brown eyes were glued to the screen of a handheld game console. He gave a tiny nod, the only indication he’d heard anything. 

You stared at him, unsure of what to do with this guy. You could barely see his face, curtained by his blond hair and red hoodie. His expression, from what you could see was detached, as if anything beyond his game didn’t matter.

The silence seemed to go on forever and, the longer it lasted, the more pissed you got. What’s wrong with this guy? Does he not know even the slightest bit of politeness?

Aunt Rika, sensing a storm brewing, gestured for you to join her on the couch.

“Don’t just stand there! You’ll be working closely with Kenma- he’s the main songwriter of the band. It’s important to build a connection.

Ew, professionalism, you made a face, but you strode over to the couch anyways and sat down gingerly next to the male engrossed in his game. It almost felt as though you were intruding on a private moment.

Kenma’s golden-brown eyes flickered up for the briefest second, taking the sight of you in before returning to his game. A soft clicking sound filled your ears as he tapped on the buttons at top speed. You weren’t sure if he was ignoring you on purpose or this was “normal Kenma”.

Either way, it pissed you off.

“Hi,” your voice came out uncharacteristically squeaky and you tried again, “Yo, I’m (Y/n), I look forward to working with you.”

No response.

Not even a glance.

You chewed your gum ferociously, feeling both anxious and seriously annoyed.

Aunt Rika, however, didn’t seem to think the guy was rude, she simply smiled and patted Kenma’s shoulder like this was entirely normal. “Kenma’s not much of a talker,” she said quietly. Why she bothered to stay quiet was a mystery to you, considering he was lost to the world, “But he’s one of the most reliable people in the group.”

“Uh huh,” you grunted. Reliable wasn’t the first word that came to your mind as you watched him silently tap away at his game.

You fiddled with the hem of your suit jacket again as the silence stretched on, your eyes darting between Aunt Rika and the near-stranger engrossed in a video game world. What do I say? Does it even matter? Can we leave this guy and meet the others now?

Suddenly, Kenma’s soft voice startled you out of your thoughts, “Don’t worry about trying too hard. Just do your job, and we’ll be fine.”

It wasn’t much, but it was finally something.

“Right,” you said, trying to sound confident, “I’ll do my best!”

Kenma didn’t respond, but you felt as though you’d gotten enough acknowledgement from him. 

Aunt Rika smiled at you, clearly pleased with the exchange, “I’ll leave you two to get acquainted, I have to attend a meeting,” she looked at Kenma, “Make sure you’re not too hard on her.”

Kenma didn’t respond in the slightest. You reached out an arm and mouthed “don’t leave me” to your aunt, but she merely laughed in response and waved goodbye as she walked down the hallway.

You were left alone with him. Great. Fantastic. Really fucking amazing. Now, the only sound was the clicking of buttons once more.

“So, uh, what game are you playing?” you asked, figuring that would get a response.

Nope. Nothing.

You peered over his slouched form and curiously looked at the game yourself. You recognized it instantly as one of the older Doom games.

“Oh, sweet, Doom,” you said, unsure of what else there was to say, “Pretty sure I’ve beat that one.”

Kenma stopped pressing buttons instantly and turned to stare at you. His face was of the uttermost seriousness and disbelief when he said, “I didn’t know girls played video games.”

You just about slapped him right then and there.

[idlerin]

nonsense — 10. why are you running!?

it was your worst nightmare.

no not the one where you were swallowed up by a giant monster-like formed final paper with an F plastered on it that took up 60% of your grade for that semester. no, it’s something worse! (okay maybe that’s debatable)

“are you okay?” a hand was reaching out to you.

you looked up and met with those familiar pretty brown eyes you used to stare into all the time, but it can’t be, it can’t be him, you were hallucinating, yes! you bumped into this person so hard you’ve started seeing someone else in him. ha! how ridiculous you were being, why the hell would he be in the university out of every place he could’ve been in tokyo right now.

“[name]?” he spoke your name in the same way he did, the same voice too.

haha.

hahaha.

okay you were out of here!

true to word, you were out of there in no time, using the leg strength you actually have to get the hell away. chanting in your head, It wasn’t him, that wasn’t him. his face and his voice was really identical though, your common sense intruded your inner monologue of denial. but what if it was just a look-alike? voice-alike? you continue to try and gaslight yourself.

oh fuck it fine… it was probably him. you finally let yourself succumb to reality. he should be at work or something! why isn’t he working on a monday like a good taxpayer!

you pant, placing your hand on something solid, that’s enough running, you weren’t made for something that needed lots of stamina, this was why you became a volleyball manager instead of a player. ha, where am i? before you could properly look up, the harsh wind slammed a piece of paper onto your face, you irritably removed it and were faced with a poster with his face printed on it. you guffawed and threw it away harshly.

you then realize you were leaning on glass, you take in a breath, that run really tired you out, you turn your head to try and clear up your mind and remember a way back to kuroo. you were at a bus stop, you finally registered.

in the middle of observing your surroundings though you saw the poster displayed and again, it had his face on it! his series ad!

right on time a bus stopped in front of you, and the bus had a he who you refuse to say the name’s out loud’s banner, this time, a perfume ad. not taking it anymore, you screeched, “this is psychological harassment!”

you ignore the stare of the elderly that got off.

okay.. okay.. what was i trying to do again? ah right i was running away from kuroo.. oh kuroo! I think i dropped his shoe somewhere!

“hey [name], could you have always run fast like that!?” bokuto shows up, looking barely exhausted, damned athletes, you shake your head in disbelief, and here you were still panting like you just ran a marathon.

“kou,” you say, “i am not one of god’s strongest soldiers,” you exclaim dramatically.

“oh me too, earlier i couldn’t resist eating a slice of choco cake even though i’m supposed to be on my diet,” bokuto says.

“the one they were selling in the cafeteria?” he nods, “i can’t blame you it was really good,” you continue.

“i know right!” bokuto grins, glad you agree with him.

“ah!” you were suddenly in perfect posture, “we need to find kuroo’s shoe!”

“Is it this one?” he raises his hand which you now noticed held the familiar red striped footwear, “found it on the way here, thought the shoe was familiar!”

“oh, great!” you clap, drained.

just then, two girls that looked to be in highschool passed between the two of you, loudly chatting, “have you seen the news that oikawa tooru’s back in japan? oh my god what if we meet him!”

“i wish!” the other girl giggled.

him again. you scowl.

“uhh, you good?” bokuto said hesitantly, noting you were doing your scary face.

“I am perfectly fine,” you said, eye twitching.

kuroo, who was left at the scene of the crime, was laughing.

awkwardly.

“hanamaki!” he raises a hand to high five the forgotten male once the crowd disperses. hanamaki cheerily high fives him back.

“kuroo my man!” he greets just as enthusiastically.

“is this?” kuroo notions his head to the man who was fixing his cap, strands of brown hair were still loose. really, he couldn’t have mistaken it as anyone other than oikawa tooru once he got closer, bokuto shows him way too many pictures of the dude.

“yeah,” hanamaki nods solemnly.

masterlist — previous | next

✦ fun facts !

makki totally wanted to ask kuroo about kenma

iwa was the resident third wheel

akaashi is a busy hardworking student, he is the president of a ton of orgs

nonsense ! an oikawa tooru social media au

synopsis. you were oikawa tooru’s #1 fan, until you became his #1 hater. you hated him so much you went viral on twitter (accidentally) and literally became known as “the oikawa tooru hater”, doesn’t help that he keeps fueling the fire by subtweeting you. everyone is all in for this new drama. what isn’t known to the public, is that this particular drama’s been on hold for three years (him being your ex and all).

a/n — did you guys notice the miraculous reference. and me updating twice in the same day!? who am i??

taglist is open ! + @kawaii-angelanne @ceneridiankaa @kittycasie @rukia-uchiha-98 @polish-cereal @kellesvt @rockleeisbaeeee @kashxyou @imsoluvly @jjulliette @tooruchiiscribs @littlefreakjulia @gomjohs @qualitygiantshoepsychic @mellowknightcolorfarm @konzumeken @migosple @kuroogguk @sangwooooo @katsu-shi @wolffmaiden @rijhi @2baddies-1porsche @yeehawcity @aishkaaa @crueldinasty @rintarousprincess @yyuiz @epeec28 @llamakenma

[villainousif]

Villainous

This is Rated 16+, please be aware of this before continuing

This game will contain

Blood and violence, death, manipulation, child abuse, trauma, vulgar language and implicit sexual content, suggestive mature content

Fate can be great and bad. Born into a cruel and unfair world, life was never great nor did it get better, always bringing you into a downward spiral. Death was at your door, and it was time for judgement.

Yet judgement was never casted for you lived another day but how far can you run before it consumes you whole and kills you right where you stand? How long before you pay the ultimate price for your crimes? Your fate is sealed.

SYNOPSIS

Cursed is what you've heard since you were a small child abandoned in a cruel world. What could you do but survive hopeless? The world laughed at you and threw things at you, but you were saved by mother she showed you love. All you have to do now is listen to your mother; after all, She is the only one who can wash away your sins.

DEMO FEATURES

Play a cursed MC and future villain with uncontrollable powers and an uncontrollable craving for blood.

Customizable MC: name, gender (male, female, non-binary), appearance,

Manipulate and destroy those around you play the victim

Listen to mother

5 Potential Romance Options

Survive

DEMO TBA

Main Cast

King Derek (53)

- King Derek is not present in the lives of Amalia and Amir since he is preoccupied with Kingdom matters and battles.

Mother Cordelia (44)

- The woman who adopted you and nurtured you as her own is kind and compassionate, and she appears to be rather younger for her age.

Teacher Esmerelda (60)

 - The twins’ teacher since childhood She is sweet and humble, yet she is strict and only does what she believes is proper and ideal.

More characters will be added as the story goes on + more information on them

ROs

Princess Amalia [ISFP] (23)

- A carefree and enthusiastic princess, a ray of sunshine 

- Small in height with wavy long platinum blonde hair, bright ocean blue eyes, honey complexion, and a lithe figure with dimples

- Amalia, prince Amir’s twin sister, is reckless and full of energy. She enjoys crowded areas and doesn’t mind getting her hands dirty. She spends most of her time exploring or horseback riding. She is known for her breathtaking beauty and heavenly smile, as well as her unconditional loving attitude.

Prince Amir [INFJ] (23)

- A quiet and calm prince 

- Wavy hip long platinum blonde hair, dark blue eyes, honey complexion, and a tall, mesomorph figure

- Amir, the twin brother of Princess Amalia, is the polar opposite of his sister; he is more cautious and instinctive; he prefers peaceful places and spends much of his time reading or training; and he is known for his intelligence and serene attitude, always appearing to be perfect.

Commander Erica [ENTJ] (25)

- A commander who is open-minded, intuitive, and judgmental.

- Curled medium-length black hair, bright orange eyes, dark brown complexion, inverted triangle physique, with scars all over

- Commander-in-Chief of the Imperial Army Erica is a nice and laid-back person who enjoys the entertainment and has a sweet spot for cutesy things. She spends much of her time with her army or out touring; she is known for her raw strength, laid-back demeanor, and accomplishments.

Servant Caius [ESFP] (24)

- A charming and flirtatious servant

- Dark brown short curly hair tangled hair, brown eyes, tanned skin, athletic physique, medium height, and a beauty mark under his left eye

- An imperial palace servant Caius is a humorous and charming flirt who enjoys open places and people. He spends the most of his time working or chatting with strangers. He is known for his confidence and playboy tendencies. 

Wizard Wren (20)

- A prideful and arrogant wizard

- Straight long dark red hair, mismatched green and purple eyes, ivory complexion, and a slim frame low in height with an eyepatch on the left eye.

- A wizard of the Empire Wren is direct and ruthless; they prefer tiny spaces and spend the most of their time casting spells or conducting magical matters; they are known for being powerful and arrogant.

[yoursonswillrestamillionyears]

Can ya do an alter pack based around tha greaser aesthetic...specifically masc in nature n 🚬🔧🕶

Greaser Headmate

[pt. Greaser headmate]

✚　₍₍　Name: Vincent / Dally (?)﹐ ✚　₍₍　Pronouns and gender terms: he/him , masculine terms﹐ ✚　₍₍　Presentation: masculine﹐ ✚　₍₍　Age: 17﹐ ✚　₍₍　Gender: male﹐ ✚　₍₍　Orientation: straight / bi﹐ ✚　₍₍　TransIDs: Perma1960s, transtaller, transskinny, permadrunk, permacigsmoker, transowned, permasuicidal, permadepressed, cischronicdepression, permabruised, permabandaged, permahurt﹐ ✚　₍₍　Reasons for transIDs: Permantly stuck in the greaser time period, wants to look like a preppy teen, always drunk, always smoking, wants to be a pet of the preppy dudes rather than the greasers, always suicidal, always depressed, constantly in fights and getting hurt ﹐

✚　₍₍　Roles: protector, depression holder﹐ ✚　₍₍　Sources: none﹐ ✚　₍₍　Kins: corpsekin﹐

✚　₍₍　General mood/emotion: depressed﹐ ✚　₍₍　Traits: outgoing, romantic, flirty, fun loving, free﹐ ✚　₍₍　Mannerisms/habits: smoking cigarettes, drinking, wants to be the preppy dudes﹐ ✚　₍₍　Introvert/extrovert/omnivert/ambivert: Extrovert﹐

✚　₍₍　Aesthetics: Greaser / ﹐ ✚　₍₍　Theme: early 60s North American themes﹐ ✚　₍₍　Appearance: Medium length slicked back dark brown hair. Big slightly downturned brown eyes. Covered in blood, bruised, and marks from fights. Leather jacket with pins and patches on. Covered in bandages. ﹐ ✚　₍₍　Species: human﹐

✚　₍₍　Likes: fixing up cars, making cars, dirty cars, hair grease, leather jackets, leather gloves, jean jackets, t-shirts, boots, switchblades, motorcycles﹐ ✚　₍₍　Dislikes: his glasses, money as a concept﹐ ✚　₍₍　Loves: the color black, self-defense, rock music, anarchy﹐ ✚　₍₍　Hates: being forced to do something, capitalism ﹐

✚　₍₍　Other notes: none﹐

✚　₍₍　Faceclaim:

[Image 1 pt: Made by Bean. Before you interact: Pro-endo, pro-radqueer, protransid, pro-para, limited-contact slash anti-contact harmful paraphilias, anti-xenosatanist. Do not interact: Pro-contact harmful paras, xenosatanists. End pt 1 ID]

[Image 2 pt: Made by some crazy Sabaton fanboy !? Before you interact: Pro-endo, pro-radqueer, protransid, pro-para, limited-contact slash anti-contact harmful paraphilias, anti-xenosatanist. Do not interact: Pro-contact harmful paras, xenosatanists. Made by Heroin/Daniel. End pt 2 ID]

[thatscarletflycatcher]

I am extremely interested in your draft/post about Downton Abbey and the timeline 👀

Important disclaimer: I was never in the fandom of the series, so I'm completely ignorant as to word of god and fanon, and might have forgotten some details of the plot as the years have passed since I watched.

*video essay voice* (bear with me) in 1980, British playwright Peter Flannery, while watching rehearsals for Henry IV, felt inspired to write his own historical epic, a Shakespearean sort of short History of his native Newcastle from the 60s to the present, interweaving the personal History of 4 "friends" with the big historical events of Britain through those years, to create a strong political narrative through them, but that was life-like enough in its everyday life details and turns as to feel real. The characters deal with their desire to change the world, achieve success, recognition, or even just survive, and experience hope and hopelessness by turns*

This theater play, called Our Friends in the North, caught the eye of the BBC, and after several back-and-forths it was adapted into 9 episodes in 1996. It was a big bet (it cost 8 million pounds to produce) and a big hit, and I do get the gut feeling that in some corner, the first season of Downton is inspired in OFITN as a concept, a sort of Our Freenemies in Yorkshire, but that its own success derailed it into a different direction, and made it Edwardian-Roaring 20s Aristofairytaleland, the same way Regency Romance tends to take place on a Regency Fairytale land full of dukes and none of the social, economical and political problems of the time.

S1 of DA hinges around the "Death of the old world" theme: it opens with its first marker (the sinking of the Titanic) and closes with the last marker (the beginning of the Great War). The central plot is that of the survival of Downton as a place and an institution -the kickstart is the death of James and Patrick aboard the Titanic, and the next heir presumptive being a middle class lawyer, an outsider to the aristocracy. The old, dying aristocracy, managed to patch up their situation by marrying rich American heiresses, like Cora, but it doesn't have any vitality for the future: the heir (Robert and Cora's son) is born dead. The question then is "can the aristocracy make a bridge with the raising professional middle class, merge with it in order to gain new life?" that's what Matthew's plotline this season is all about, specially in his growing and changing relationship with Robert and Mary (who are the epitome representatives of the aristocracy, with lady Violet): there is a small seed of aspiration that grows through the season, but gets quashed once he realizes that as much as he has grown to care for the Crowleys, they haven't really grown to care for him as anything but an uncomfortable necessity. And so he leaves. And the Great War begins. No compromise can be reached, the old world is dead.

I don't think I say anything controversial when I say that Fellowes and Downton as a series loves Mary with undying devotion; she gets a second chance at Matthew in s2 that she wouldn't have gotten IRL, and she would have kept Matthew forever if the actor didn't want out. And I think Dan Stevens wanting out (and Jessica Brown's to a certain extent), and as much as he can say within the bounds of politeness, has a lot to do with a sense that the series he signed up for was not the series he ended up being in on the follow up seasons. Matthew, who was a central character to the main plot of the series in s1, now gravitates Mary's storylines, because that pressing conflict of the inheritance is solved, and he can be disposed of as soon as he produces a male heir without causing any plot-ripples. A story about Downton the house as anchoring to class conflicts and point of connection with big events becomes a story of Mary and her relatives with Downton as a mainly aesthetic backdrop as s2 progresses (yes, yes, every once in a while some lip service is given to "money troubles" and having to downsize, but it's just... that).

As seasons progress, as well, the historical markers to open and close a season disappear, and so do... general historical events at all. The story gets atomized and more and more separated from History, and "the old world is dying" theme vanishes.

So, now, on this premise (that Downton S1 and Downton s2-6 are different animals, with different core themes and structures) where do I think a true continuation of S1 would have gone?

Mind you, I haven't plotted five series to detail, because I'm not that invested. But also it feels like DA the series itself started running out of plot after s4 anyways, so, in general lines:

The same way OFITN did (episodes were each set on a different year: 64, 66, 67, 70, 74, 79, 84, 87, 95) every series would have a time skip that would tie in with bigger scale events in Britain and the world (the end of the Great War, the Spanish Flu, the crack of 29', etc), and in my mind I would have it cover until the late 1940s: the series begins with a middle aged Robert and Cora, and ends with a middle-aged next generation.

Matthew does actually marry Lavinia, and takes William with him as they bonded in the war, and goes back to his job. They try to keep their distance from Downton, but, of course they keep getting drawn in because of the inheritance.

Matthew's marriage to Lavinia means a vital wake-up call for Mary: she -and by extension the aristocracy- cannot always get what she wants, even though her name and status carry a lot of importance. But she also experiences new freedom because her choice of husband has now no influence on the fate of the estate. I think she'd choose to travel a lot, in ways that would widen her mental horizons and change her feelings and perspective about her family. I even feel like her marrying Henry Talbot in the end makes sense; she remains ever the aristocrat (although I'd think she'd marry later, probably past her mid-30s, a spirit of the new times).

Sybil's storyline remains the same, minus death (in this scheme, the core characters that thread the timeline are the Crawley sisters AND Matthew), but she never returns to Downton to stay, and it is through her and her visits that we do get the perspectives and storylines of the process of independence for Ireland, and her complicated position as wife of an Irish man but daughter of a British earl. You can even get stories in the later years storylines like Marygold trying to run to Ireland and her aunt after WWII breaks.

A similar thing goes for Edith; if Mary is and makes the choice of aristocracy, and Sybil makes the choice of a working class life, then Edith embodies a commercial-professional upper middle class aspiration (in fact, I do think that her punching-bag status in the series has a lot to do with Fellowes derision of that class), so it makes sense for her to do most of the things she does towards her place in life; just cut some of the drama and no sudden marquess nonsense in the end. Edith and Bertie marry and remain successful editors/printers/periodical owners.

As for the house itself, of course Matthew inherits (you could set Robert's death for 1929, and then have a Lavinia inheritance save the estate after Robert's failed investments like it goes in s1). I do think this lends itself to interesting dynamics, specially with the servants, considering the aristocratic head is gone and the Great War significantly changed the self-image of the serving class, plus the return of William now in a much more privileged place; but also with Cora as the new Dowager and Lavinia as the new Lady Grantham. How do the children adapt to their new home and status? How did their parents conduct their upbringing? I think you can do a lot there (I'd assume just two children, a boy and a girl).

I do also think it'd be interesting to contrast the rising tensions in the 30s as Mary perceives them through her continental travels -I can imagine Henry Talbot joining the foreign service and getting at least obliquely involved in spy shenanigans- and Edith through her very localized work.

The Kingsmen movies play with this idea of WWI creating a generation of fathers who buried their sons and had to take their places. The Crawleys escape this by having only daughters, so I think it is fitting for Matthew and Lavinia's son to die in WWII, and for the daughter to become a war bride and move to the US, as the centre of power moves from the UK to the US.

Downton, more and more difficult to maintain as the years pass, cannot survive the economic blow of WWII, and Mathew and Lavinia, now middle aged, don't have the energy and vitality to begin again; and so they make an arrangement with the just-founded National Trust after the war ends: the main part of the house becomes a museum, but they still get a part of it to live in. I think, after a family reunion tea/party to wrap things up, you can have as a symbolic last shot, a close up of Matthew's hand as he turns over the keys to the Downton gates to the National Trust agent, CUT TO BLACK AND THE DOWNTON ABBEY THEME.

So, hm, that's pretty much it. Please do not maul me to death XD

*While I think the series was very well written, I'd hesitate to recommend it here as there was too much explicit nudity and sexual content for my taste and that of many people here. The 2022 radio adaptation seems to be faithful to the original tv series and avoid that problem, but of course you lose on the other visuals that are quite impressive (and believe me, besides some awkward wigs and make up, they really did blow up that 8 million pound budget in many ways).

[aoioozora]

Adelheid's Faceclaim

When I first drew Adelheid, I used Henry Cavill's facial features as reference and softened them a little to suit the female face as you can see below.

But as I kept drawing her and refining her features, she got a little more rugged, slightly bit masculine and now I think she looks similar to Clint Eastwood in the 60s.

Now it's not everyday a female OC had a male face-claim but man I tried to think of any famous actress that would match Heidi's face, but I couldn't (even harder when you rarely watch movies).

The closest I could get was to Eastwood.

She has the same sharp nose and downturned eyes, albeit her eyes are green.

She has the same brown hair. While Eastwood's face is longer and more rectangular, Heidi's is shorter and more square.

If Eastwood was born a woman, Adelheid would look just like her.

For reference: most recent sketches.

[uncharismatic-fauna]

Open Your Home to the Common House Centipede

A common sight in homes throughout Europe, Asia, the Americas, and Australia the common house centipede (Scutigera coleoptrata) is a medium-sized species of centipede originally from the Mediterranean. In the wild, they prefer grasslands and deciduous forests where they can hide under rocks, logs, or leaf litter. These insects have also adapted well to urban development, and are frequently found in basements, bathrooms, and garages,  as well as gardens and compost piles.

Like other centipedes, the common house centipede has less than 100 legs; in fact, they only have 15 pairs, with the front pair used only for holding prey or fending off threats. All those legs let the common house centipede move up to 0.4 meters per second (1.3 ft/s) over a variety of surfaces, including walls and ceilings. The actual body of S. coleoptrata is only 25 to 35 mm (1.0 to 1.4 in) long, but the antennae are often as long as the body which can give this insect a much larger appearance. However, they can be hard to spot, especially in their natural environments; their tan and dark brown coloration allows them to blend in seamlessly to surrounding vegetation.

Though they pose little threat to humans, house centipedes are predatory. Their primary food source is other arthropods, including cockroaches, silverfish, bed bugs, ticks, ants, and insect larvae. S. coleoptrata is a nocturnal hunter, and uses its long antennae to track scents and tactile information. Their compound eyes, unusual for centipede species, can distinguish daylight and ultraviolet light but is generally used as a secondary sensory organ. When they do find prey, house centipedes inject a venom which can be lethal in smaller organisms, but is largely harmless to larger animals. This makes them important pest controllers. In the wild, house centipedes are the common prey of rodents, amphibians, birds, and other insects.

The mating season for S. coleoptrata begins in the spring, when males and females release pheromones that they can use to find each other. Once located, the male spins a silk pad in which he places his sperm for the female to collect. She then lays fertilized eggs in warm, moist soil in clutches of 60-150. These eggs incubate for about a month, and the young emerge with only four pairs of legs. Over the next three years, juvenile house centipedes molt 7 times, each time gaining new pairs of legs. After they grow their last pair of legs, immature house centipedes molt an additional 3 times, at which time they become sexually mature. If they can avoid predation, individuals can live up to 7 years in the wild.

Conservation status: The common house centipede has not been evaluated by the IUCN, as it is relatively common both in the wild and in urban areas. Although they have been introduced to areas outside their native range, no detrimental environmental effects have been associated with their spread.

If you like what I do, consider leaving a tip or buying me a ko-fi!

Photos

Joseph Berger

David Paul

Conrad Altman via iNaturalist

[shinmiyovvi]

「Call of Duty Modern Warfare Original Character Info」

GENERAL INFORMATION

NAME: Noemi Rayne G. Trinidad

CODE NAME: “Soro” (Fox in Filipino)

AGE: 31

GENDER: Female

SEXUALITY: Heterosexual

D.O.B.: [REDACTED]

P.O.B.: Davao City, Philippines

NATIONALITY: Filipino

ALIA(SES): 

Bravo 0-9, Ghost 0-5

Noemi, Emi, Rayne, Ren (By her family, relatives, and friends)

Ma’am, Captain (By Gaz)

Capt, Capt. Soro (By Soap)

Sea girl, Nomi, Show off (By Ghost)

Soro, Love, Ray (By Price)

Zorro, hermana (By Alejandro)

Kapitan Trinidad (By Rudy)

OCCUPATION: Military personnel from the AFP Light Reaction Regiment, an associate member of Task Force 141.

RANK: 2nd Lieutenant (2012-2015), Captain (2015-present)

LANGUAGES SPOKEN: Cebuano and Filipino as her mother tongue, English as her third language as she is a polyglot but limited.

AFFILIATIONS: Armed Forces of the Philippines, Philippine Scout Rangers, Light Reaction Regiment, Task Force 141, Coalition, Armistice, JTF - Ghost Team, SpecGru

APPEARANCE

HEIGHT: 5’9” (175 cm)

WEIGHT: 141 lbs (64 kg)

EYE COLOR: Dark brown

HAIR COLOR: Black

HAIR STYLE: Shoulder-length (2019), Overgrown Boy Cut (2022)

BODY TYPE: Hourglass

BUILD: Lean and muscular

BLOOD TYPE: A+

DISTINGUISHABLE FEATURES: Has a scar on her right cheek and the lower left part of her neck. She also has scars on both of her arms, which she mostly wears long sleeves.

FACE CLAIM: Jane de Leon (Images below)

FAMILY

SIBLINGS: 1

STATUS: Youngest daughter of the Gerardo-Trinidad Family

FATHER: Ramon O. Trinidad

AGE: 60

HEIGHT: 5'6" (167 cm)

OCCUPATION: Retired AFP Soldier as he works as a carpenter for their shop.

MOTHER: Paulina G. Trinidad

AGE: 57

HEIGHT: 5'4" (162 cm)

OCCUPATION: Housewife

BROTHER: Leonardo Eric G. Trinidad

AGE: 34

HEIGHT: 5'11" (180 cm)

OCCUPATION: Architect

SKILLS AND ABILITIES

FIGHTING STYLE: Any but most likely uses Muay Thai and Arnis (If she found a pair of sticks)

WEAPON OF CHOICE: Any as she uses a throwing knife to take down enemies silently.

ABILITIES: Can be a translator and a recon sniper due to her experience back in 2016.

SPECIALTIES: Stealth, Espionage, and Hacking to infiltrate unauthorized areas.

PERSONALITY

POSITIVE:

Intelligent: Noemi is one of the smartest students in the class who mostly competes in quiz bees as she receives a lot of rewards from her competitions and also excels in her class.

Boyish: She spends time with her brother and her male friends and she has different interests and traits, unlike other girls around her subdivision.

Good tactician and thinks logically: After becoming the lieutenant, she uses her wits and observation around her as she will find an advantage for her and her squadmates of when to attack or when to fall back. With her being the mentee of the former captain, she took note of how her lieutenant led them to victory.

A loving friend and daughter: Despite her stern, relaxed, and laid-back personality, she is nothing more than a friend you can always rely on. She is a loving and caring daughter to her family in which she tends to overwork herself just to get the right amount of money to provide her parents for their needs. 

Dutiful with her occupation: Noemi is very dedicated to her job as a soldier in her country even if what she entered is a life-and-death situation. She mostly escapes her near-death experiences during the siege after their deployment in 2017. Noemi has no hesitation in killing her targets, as long as she knows what their wrongdoings are, she won't think twice to kill them in an instant.

Can crack jokes: If she ever feels like lighting up the mood, Noemi won't hesitate to brighten up the spirit of her fellow soldiers with some jokes.

NEGATIVE:

Has trust issues: Noemi tends to have trust issues and is also cautious when choosing the right people to trust.

Weighing some guilt inside her: After losing some of her friends during her career, she couldn't help but distinguish self-guilt from what happened to them.

Getting out of control of her emotions, especially anger: Noemi tends to bottle up her emotions, which she would snap at any time, and manages to go feral.

An expert in manipulation and deception: Noemi is capable of manipulating and deceiving people in order to acquire intel. She may act natural but deep down she was using them for extracting information.

TRIVIA

Noemi is the lead guitarist for the school's band which joins the battle of the bands.

Her favorite activities in school are Intramurals, quiz bees, band performances, and sports fest.

She likes to play video games during her free time during her off duty and sometimes she would draw on her journal to pass the time.

Noemi never shares her music taste with anyone but she listens to Jpop, Kpop, OPM, Pop, Pop Rock, Punk Rock, Rap, and Alternative Rock.

Noemi was known for being the smartest student who tends to sleep during class and answers questions without even trying to be attentive during the discussion sometimes.

BACKGROUND

Noemi is the youngest of the Gerardo-Trinidad family and was born to have an inspiration to be a soldier because of her father's past. Although her parents wanted her to be a nurse, she declined and was eager to pursue her dream of being a soldier and fighting for her country. Noemi is a talented and intelligent child who tends to join quiz bees as she is also an athlete at her alma mater. She is the captain, and outside hitter of her volleyball team, and the small forward of the basketball team. She also joins badminton and sepak takraw competitions, and everyone looks up to her as one of the athletic students in her school. After graduating high school, she passed the PMA exam and strived hard to finish her military training. Noemi joined the AFP and then proceeded to join the Scout Rangers to get the Scout Rangers Qualification Badge in order for her to join the Light Reaction Regiment. Before she joined LRR, she embarked on missions that molded her as a soldier and took down notes about becoming a leader from her captain. She lost her comrades during the Siege of Marawi she looks at them as her brothers-in-arms and a family. In 2019, Noemi became an associate member before the formation of Task Force 141 after Laswell introduced her to Price and Gaz as she continued to work in TF141.

Images for the gif above (From left to right):

MW1 (Left), MW2 (Center), MW3 (Right)

[pleistocene-pride]

Pelecanus occidentalis, better known as the brown pelican is a bird of the pelican family, Pelecanidae, and one of three species endemic to the Americas where brown pelicans can be found along the Atlantic Coast from New Jersey to the mouth of the Amazon River, and along the Pacific Coast from British Columbia to Peru, including the Galapagos Islands. They are a purely marine species which inhabits coastlines, estuaries, mangrove swamps, and shallow pelagic waters where they roosts on rocks, water, rocky cliffs, piers, jetties, sand beaches, and mudflats. Brown pelicans are primarily piscivorous feeding on a wide variety of fish as well as the occasional crustacean, amphibian, and hatchling bird/ eggs. Besides its sister species, the Peruvian pelican, the brown pelican is the only pelican to primarily forage via diving, flying up to some 60 to 70ft above the water it scans below for schools of fish and once located the brown pelican dives towards them bill-first like a kingfisher completely submerging as it attempts to catch as many fish as possible in its wide bill & throat pouch. Brown pelicans are themselves eaten by sharks, various raptors particularly bald eagles, sea lions, bobcats, feral dogs, alligators, crocodiles, skuas and gulls. Reaching around 3.3 to 5ft (1 to 1.52m) in length, 4.4 to 11lbs (2 to 5kgs) in weight, with a 6.8 to 7.6ft (2.03 to 2.28m) wingspan, the brown pelican ranks amongst the largest flying birds in its regions yet it is the smallest of the 8 species of pelicans. The Brown Pelicans breeding plumage has a white head with a yellowish wash on the crown. The nape and neck are dark maroon–brown. The upper sides of the neck have white lines along the base of the gular pouch, and the lower fore neck has a pale yellowish patch. The breast and belly are dark brown and the webbed feet are black. The nonbreeding adult has a white head and neck. The pink skin around the eyes becomes dull and gray in the nonbreeding season. The brown pelican is a monogamous breeder which often breeds from march till may, but does not pair for life. They are a colonial species. The male chooses a nesting site and then perspective females arrive and they perform for each other to judge there compatibility. Once a pair forms a bond, they build a nest out of reeds, leaves, pebbles, feathers, and sticks some 3.3 to 10ft (1 to 3m) off the ground. Here 2 to 4 oval eggs may be laid then incubated by both parents for some 28 to 30 days. The young stay with there parents until fledging at around 63 days. After that, the juvenile leave the nest and gather into small groups known as pods. Under ideal conditions a brown pelican will reach sexual maturity at around 3 to 5 years of age and may live upwards of 30.

[doomrichards]

Doctor Doom and Mister Fantastic in Marvel Multiverse Role-Playing Game: Core Rulebook (2023)

DOCTOR DOOM Art by Gabriele Dell'Otto

Rank: 5 / Karma: -- / Health: 90 / Damage Reduction: -2 / Focus: 120 / Damage Reduction: -2 / Speed: Run: 5 Climb: 3 Swim: 3 Jump: 3 / Initiative Modifier: +4 Abilities Ability Score Melee: 2 / Agility: 3 / Resilience: 3 / Vigilance: 4 / Ego: 7 / Logic: 6 Defense Score 12 / 13 / 13 / 14 / 17 / 16 Non-Combat Checks +3 / +3 / +3 / +4 / +9 / +7 Damage Melee Marvel x 6 Multiplier + 2 Ability Agility Marvel x 5 Multiplier + 3 Ability Ego Marvel x 7 Multiplier + 7 Ability Logic Marvel x 6 Multiplier + 6 Ability

BIOGRAPHY Real Name: Victor Von Doom Height: 6' 2" Weight: 225 Ibs. Gender: Male Eyes: Brown Hair: Brown Size: Average Distinguishing Features: Heavily scarred face, suit of armor Occupation: Leader Origin: Magic: Sorcery Teams: Intergalactic Council, Savage Avengers, Terrible Trio Base: Latveria HISTORY Born to a poor Romani family in the far-flung country of Latveria, Victor Von Doom first encountered Reed Richards while in college on scholarship. The two were instantly bonded as intellectual rivals and compatriots. However, Doom quickly grew tired of Richards upstaging him, purposefully ignoring a mistake in his experimental calculations just because Richards pointed it out. Doom's experiment blew up in his face, permanently scarring him. Bent on revenge, Victor quit college and obtained a powerful suit of Tibetan armor, becoming the dreaded Doctor Doom. He conquered his homeland of Latveria, declaring himself king. Ever since, he's been a monstrous threat to Reed Richards, the Fantastic Four and the world at large. PERSONALITY Doom's defining feature is his ego. Be it science or sorcery, he wishes to believe that he is the best at everything he does, and he is deeply angered by any evidence which would point to the contrary.

TRAITS & TAGS TRAITS • Combat Expert • Font of Information • Inventor • Iron Will • Piloting • Presence • Tech Reliance TAGS • Authority • Extreme Appearance • Lab Access • Linguist: English, German, Hungarian, Latverian, Romani • Powerful • Public Identity • Sorcerous • Supernatural • Villainous POWERS BASIC • Brilliance 1 • Discipline 2 • Flight 1 • Mighty 1 • Sturdy 2 • Uncanny 2 ELEMENTAL CONTROL (ENERGY) • Elemental Barrier • Elemental Blast • Elemental Burst MAGIC (SORCERY SET) • Astral Form • Crimson Bands of Cyttorak • Dispel Spell • Flames of the Faltine • Summon Portal MARTIAL ARTS • Attack Stance • Defense Stance TELEPATHY • Machine Telepathy • Telepathic Link

MISTER FANTASTIC Art by Chris Samnee

Rank: 4 / Karma: -4 / Health: 120 / Damage Reduction: -2 / Focus: 60 / Damage Reduction: -- / Speed: Run: 10 Climb: 6 Swim: 5 Glide: 20 / Initiative Modifier: +2 Abilities Ability Score Melee: 2 / Agility: 4 / Resilience: 4 / Vigilance: 2 / Ego: 2 / Logic: 7 Defense Score 12 / 14 / 14 / 12 / 12 / 17 Non-Combat Checks +2 / +4 / +4 / +2 / +2 / +11 Damage Melee Marvel x 4 Multiplier + 2 Ability Agility Marvel x 4 Multiplier + 4 Ability Ego Marvel x 4 Multiplier + 2 Ability Logic Marvel x 8 Multiplier + 7 Ability

BIOGRAPHY Real Name: Reed Richards Height: 6'1" Weight: 180 Ibs. Gender: Male Eyes: Brown Hair: Brown, gray Size: Average Distinguishing Features: None Occupation: Scientist Origin: Weird Science Teams: Fantastic Four. Future Foundation Base: New York City

HISTORY Brilliant young physicist Reed Richards gambled his family's considerable fortune on an experimental space mission, during which he and his crew were bombarded by cosmic rays, giving them super-powers. Back on Earth, with Richards as their leader, the crew formed the Fantastic Four.

Richards' intellect is just as critical a component of his heroism as his powers. With eighteen separate doctorates, he is arguably the most brilliant scientist on the planet. Richards later married one of the crew--Susan Storm (Invisible Woman)-- with whom he has two kids, and nothing is more important to him than his family and friends. PERSONALITY Richards' intense and calculating nature occasionally puts him at odds with his more outwardly emotional teammates, but at heart, he is a humanitarian. He believes that science has the potential to solve all of humanity's problems, and nothing frustrates him more than an unsolvable problem. TRAITS & TAGS TRAITS • Combat Reflexes • Famous • Font of Information • Gearhead • Inventor • Scientific Expertise • Weird TAGS • Enemy: Doctor Doom • Headquarters: 4 Yancy Street • Heroic • Lab Access • Public Identity POWERS BASIC • Brilliance 4 • Combat Trickery PLASTICITY • Body Sheet • Body Sphere • Bounce Back • Coiling Crush • Extended Reach 2 • Flexible Bones 2 • Flexible Fingers • Reverse Punch • Rubberneck • Slip Free • Stilt Steps

[sonnetsterlingwritesstuff]

The Female Experience (Good Omens)

Aka My Take On The Scrapped 60s American Femme Flashback. Thanks Neil, I’ve had no peace since discovering this existed :)

Ao3 Here

Genre: Angst/ Fluff/ A Good Dose Of Social Commentary

Words: 5421

TL;DR: Heaven wants to know why the Pearly Gates are opening to more women than men. Hell is almost certain that God is playing favorites. So they send their representatives on a bit of an undercover mission to figure out what *exactly* is going on- what are women doing so much better than men?

It was the year 1965. Aziraphale found herself seated in a booth at a diner in New York, New York. She smoothed the skirt of her dress before folding her arms onto the table in front of her. It was odd , she thought, to have her legs so exposed. Normally, she’d wear trousers- but then she wasn’t normally in America, and she wasn’t normally presenting as a female. It wasn’t that she didn’t like women- it was just that the form she’d initially chosen for Earth leaned more towards presenting male, and she’d been very comfortable in it. She sort of liked this form too, though- it was so elegant . So graceful. There was an absolutely enthralling feeling that came with looking into a mirror and seeing something so beautiful . It was almost making her vain .

She’d put a good lot of research into her appearance- she needed to get a real feel for what it was to be a woman nowadays. She’d read lots of magazines, and looked at many pictures. She’d even been to the picture shows to see how it was women were presenting. From that, she had gleaned an appearance that she thought blended in rather splendidly. She was not as trim as the women in the films, but she made up for it with what she thought were some stunning curves… that were unfortunately masked by the dress she was wearing. It was such a pretty dress though. The dress itself was a milk-chocolate brown, with a straight skirt and a high neckline. It almost appeared to be made of a suede material. It cut off at the shoulders, so underneath she’d worn a sky-blue blouse with a lovely rounded collar that fell over the neck of the dress, and she’d tied a matching sky-blue bow. On her feet, she wore white mary-jane pumps, and she’d styled her peroxide-blonde hair in the beehive style that was so fashionable. She’d even changed her face to one that was a bit softer and more traditionally feminine, and she’d dabbled with makeup (taking Audrey Hepburn as a muse). She thought, at the very least, that she was very a-la-mode.

It had taken some deal of effort to get there, but she was here now- out on the town, in a lovely little diner. This was, she’d heard, the very heart of Americana. All she was missing was a ‘shake’ and some french fries- which weren’t actually french at all. They were Belgian. Aziraphale would know- she’d had some of the first back in the 1600s. But that was besides the point now. Now what she needed was to get a server to notice her so that she could order her shake and fries. It was odd- she’d been sitting here for some time now, and yet all the men and families that had walked in since she’d arrive had already been served. Perhaps the waitresses simply hadn’t seen her. She tried to get eye contact, giving a polite little wave. If the waitress thought she was rude she might continue to ignore her. Though it still didn’t seem to be doing her any good- it was almost like she wasn’t there at all.

Still, she persisted… until she saw a face that was somehow familiar . Aziraphale didn’t even need to think twice about who it was, even though she probably should. She was really getting a bit too familiar with Crowley. She blinked at the demon’s appearance- this was different for them- or, she supposed, her for the time being. It wasn’t the first time she’d seen Crowley present as female, but this was the first time Crowley had changed faces to do so in… well, ever , to Aziraphale’s recollection. It seemed that they’d gotten the same idea. Crowley sported a black turtleneck with black pants with a yellow grid-like pattern on them and black flats, her red hair curled out on the ends and held back by a headband that matched her pants. Of course, she still wore her signature glasses- it would have taken an awful lot of effort for her to change her eyes, and she’d already put in enough. She was slight, with a rather beautiful face- such soft features with beautifully high cheekbones. The rouge she wore made her lips stand out, and Aziraphale’s eyes were not the only ones lingering on them. She was stunning, and her outfit was very fashionable… but it was also so brazen . Men around the restaurant stared, some whistling… much to the dismay of their wives.

Crowley seemed to catch Aziraphale’s eye, smirking before making her way to her and sitting down across from her. What was Crowley doing here ? Aziraphale’s mission from Heaven was simple- figure out why so many more women were gaining access to Heaven than men. Given America’s cultural influence, Heaven had asked Aziraphale to do her observing there as opposed to England- which was inconvenient and a little unpleasant, but unfortunately doable. All that was to say that there was a simple explanation for why she was there. But Crowley… well, Hell must have some sort of a plan that required him to be there. She couldn’t have just followed Aziraphale, could she? Aziraphale cleared her throat for a few moments as Crowley sat down before addressing her.

“Crowley?” She checked.

“Angel.” Crowley smirked softly. “What has Heaven got you doing hanging around here ?”

“I’m on a mission.” Aziraphale lowered her voice.

“What kind of mission?” Crowley raised an amused brow.

“I really shouldn’t be disclosing that…” Aziraphale sighed, but speaking from experience she knew there was no use trying to hide anything. Crowley was good with words- she always got the answers she was after. “Heaven has me looking into why there’s so many more women than men coming through the Pearly Gates.”

“That’s funny.” Crowley chortled. “Hell’s got me here for the exact same reason.”

“Do they?” Aziraphale lit up a little. “Isn’t that a fun coincidence!”

“Did they send you here because of the ‘cultural significance’?” Crowley hummed.

“They did !” Aziraphale confirmed. “Which I think is outrageous !”

“It’s like they’ve never heard of the British Invasion!” Crowley scoffed. “America’s crawling all over anything British right now- but sure, America’s the influential continent.”

“I was thinking that precisely !” Aziraphale nodded. “I tried to tell them.”

“What’s the point?” Crowley rolled her eyes. “They don’t listen.”

“No… no, they don’t.” Aziraphale gulped lightly, more than evidently nervous to voice any dissatisfaction with Heaven. You never knew when or where they were listening. Crowley wasn’t stupid- she could see how uncomfortable her counterpart was. So she did her the mercy of changing the subject.

“So, what’ve you ordered?” Crowley asked, picking up a menu. “Anything I should try?”

“Oh, I haven’t ordered yet.” Aziraphale admitted. “It seems… well, I really am trying not to make a fuss, but it seems that the waitress hasn’t even seen me.”

“What?” Crowley blinked.

“Well… she’s been serving all the families, and the men who walk in, but… she hasn’t even looked my way.” Aziraphale explained.

“Oh, that’s not going to fly.” Crowley grumbled before standing up and grabbing her place setting. She banged the cutlery on he table, sending a pointed glare to the waitress. One could feel the intensity of it, even if her eyes were masked.

“Oh, you don’t have to-” Aziraphale blushed.

“Excuse me!” Crowley called out to the waitress. “My friend here has been waiting for service for… how long’s it been?”

“Just around forty-five minutes.” Aziraphale croaked out, a dark shade of crimson in embarrassment.

“ Forty-five minutes?!” Crowley scoffed, looking at the waitress again. “What kind of service is that ?”

“I’m…” The waitress stammered.

“You’re going to come over here and take her order, or I’m gonna tell your boss how unprofessional you’re being.” Crowley threatened her. “You think he wants someone on staff who’s ignoring patrons?”

“What seems to be the problem out here?” A man in a soda-jerk’s uniform and an apron popped his head out of the kitchen.

“Oh, it’s nothing Mr. Kennedy.” The waitress flushed red. “These ladies were just voicing some concerns.”

“Your waitress has not served my companion here in forty-five minutes.” Crowley told him.

“Well… the place is fairly full, ma’am.” Mr. Kennedy reasoned.

“She’s serving everyone but us!” Crowley countered. “There are families that have just walked in, and they’re getting their orders taken!”

“This is a family diner- we’re in the business of serving families.” The man stated levelly.

“And what of the business men? Hm?” Crowley pointed out. “They’re not families.”

“They’re very busy working men.” Mr. Kennedy nodded. “Listen, ladies… Thanks for stopping in. But I think it’s time you got home and started making supper for your husbands, isn’t it?”

“Our husbands ?” Crowley fumed.

“You can make yourself a snack while you’re at it if you’re really hungry.” Mr. Kennedy hummed.

“This is ridiculous !” Crowley scoffed. “We’re willing to pay you, and you won’t have us?”

“That’s right.” Mr. Kennedy sighed before his eyes darkened and his tone took on more of an edge. “You can take your liberal feminism elsewhere, ma’am. This is a family establishment.”

“I think we will.” Crowley huffed, quickly getting onto her feet and taking Aziraphale’s wrist, dragging her along. “Come on, Angel.”

Crowley was brisk- so brisk, in fact, that Aziraphale nearly stumbled and fell. It was amazing how quickly the demon could move when she was upset. Aziraphale gave an apologizing glance at the waitress on her way out, who looked mortified by the entire situation. Neither Aziraphale nor Crowley had to look around to feel the eyes trained on them. They’d ‘caused a scene’, as some might say. But… even Aziraphale had to admit that it was a scene worth causing. Whilst Crowley had jumped straight to anger, Aziraphale found herself more confused than anything. Why in the world was that man so against them? Had Americans forgotten the importance of showing kindness to strangers? God herself could have been in that restaurant today and Aziraphale got the distinct feeling that ‘Mr. Kennedy’ would have reacted in precisely the same way.

“Thank you for standing up for me.” Aziraphale muttered, holding close now to her colleague.

“Absolutely ridiculous.” Crowley grumbled. “I’ve seen a lot, but this is an all-time low…”

“How has it come to this ?” Aziraphale asked tiredly.

“It’s humanity, Angel- they’re always finding new lows to sink to.” Crowley sighed. “I guess I can tell Hell that they were wrong- this isn’t all just God favoring the women.”

“Is that what Hell thought?” Aziraphale blinked.

“Yup.” Crowley sighed, popping the ‘p’. “Told ‘em that wasn’t the case, but they don’t listen.”

“God doesn’t play favorites- not since Job.” Aziraphale hummed.

“I wouldn’t go that far.” Crowley rolled her eyes. “But this is one problem we can’t pin on her- this one is all humanity.”

“The audacity on that man, to refuse us service!” Aziraphale huffed in agreement.

“We don’t need him.” Crowley sighed. “We’ll find somewhere else to eat- perhaps spend the night out somewhere.”

“Where?” Aziraphale asked.

“The pictures might be nice.” Crowley mused. “I think I saw a poster for a special anniversary screening of Psycho at the theater a few blocks down.”

“Oh no- I read that book. Scared the living daylights out of me.” Aziraphale shuddered. “But… they have made an adaptation of The Sound of Music, and it’s in theaters now…”

“I am not going to watch The Sound of Music.” Crowley deadpanned.

“Well then perhaps we could-” Aziraphale started, before she heard a sharp whistle from across the street. She blinked, her eyes following it.

“ Don’t look .” Crowley warned under her breath.

“Why not?” Aziraphale muttered, looking in the direction of the whistle.

Across the street stood a cluster of four young men, wolfish grins on their faces as they seemed to scan every inch of her and Crowley with their eyes. There was a fear that crashed over Aziraphale like a wave, overwhelming every one of her senses. She wasn’t sure why- it was just a group of boys. If they were armed, Aziraphale didn’t know about it. They were just standing there… Standing there and eyeing her hungrily like she was a piece of meat. The fear seemed innate - instinctual , almost. Like it was programmed into her. She found that that kind of fear was usually very warranted.

“Hey good-lookin’, why don’t you come over here and let us show you a good time?” One of the men called over. She froze, shivers running down her spine.

“I beg your pardon?” She flushed red.

“No no no, angel, don’t let it get to you.” Crowley muttered, tugging on her wrist to keep her pardon.

“Oh, they’re British !” Another one of the men grinned even wider (if that was possible) before letting out a loud whoop. The other men joined, whooping and hollering across the street at her and Crowley. “Come on, let us show you the American way sweetheart!”

“Fuck off!” Crowley growled, glaring at them from across the street.

“Feisty!” Another man seemed to cheer. “I like a feisty girl!”

“Give us a chance, and we’ll teach you some manners.” A man smirked.

“You’re all sick !” Aziraphale exclaimed, finally finding some strength. She couldn’t let them talk about Crowley that way. “She is not an animal to be tamed, and if you don’t stop it right now, I’ll… I’ll…”

“Angel…” Crowley warned under her breath.

“You’ll what, little lady?” One of the boys quirked a challenging brow.

“I’ll call the police!” Aziraphale proclaimed. “This is harassment!”

“Nah… we’re just being friendly is all.” The boy chuckled softly. “Geez, you women can’t take a compliment!”

“I-” Aziraphale started.

“ Leave it , angel.” Crowley warned under her breath. “Just keep moving, or it will only get worse.”

“But we really ought to call the police!” Aziraphale protested quietly. “This isn’t right!”

“Who do you think the police are going to side with?” Crowley asked rhetorically.

“You’re not saying…” Aziraphale’s eyes widened in shock. “But that’s outrageous!”

“It’s society.” Crowley shrugged. “So I’d suggest moving, or they’ll just keep at it.”

“Fine.” Aziraphale muttered shortly, her pace picking up to be rather brisk. Crowley matched it, keeping her head held high.

“We’ll be here waiting when you change your minds!” A man called after them.

Aziraphale could not shake the overwhelming disgust that those men had given her. Did they honestly think that any of that was acceptable? Was that what humanity considered to be ‘normal’? If Aziraphale were an actual woman, she was fairly sure that she would lock herself away from the fear of it all. How courageous must a woman be to even dare to walk the streets when it apparently warranted that kind of attention? Or, a better question still- how had they all not snapped and eliminated the male race entirely? Having to go through that day by day… Aziraphale would think it would drive someone to madness. And yet the women she knew were some of the sweetest, gentlest and most caring individuals to walk the earth. They didn’t just overcome their circumstances- they thrived in spite of them.

She wondered, though, how Crowley knew what was going to happen. Aziraphale knew that her demonic companion had taken on a feminine form more often than she had, but in her experience Crowley hadn’t encountered anything like that … had she? She dreaded to think that perhaps it had , right under her nose, and from her cushy position in a safer masculine form she had failed to notice. Perhaps, even, she had unwittingly supported it. She shuddered to think of that. It was remarkable how stepping into someone else’s shoes could change one’s perspective. Crowley hadn’t even flinched through all of that. Aziraphale very much wished that she had .

“Ridiculous what men think they’re entitled to.” Crowley grumbled as she walked.

“Indeed…” Aziraphale bit her lip, still troubled. “Erm… Crowley?”

“Something on your mind, Angel?” Crowley asked, her tone still short. “Just spit it out- you don’t always have to be so polite.”

“You didn’t seem to be phased by any of that.” Aziraphale blushed. “Why?”

“Oh, Angel… that’s all existed since the dawn of time- since Adam and Eve, or Abraham and Sarah.” Crowley sighed, softening. “Did you really never see it?”

“No.” Aziraphale admitted, a bright crimson. “ I haven’t acted that way unwittingly, have I?”

“How should I know?” Crowley scoffed, before seeing Aziraphale wince. She sighed, toning herself down. “Well… I’m not with you all the time. But from what I’ve seen, you’re a more than decent man, Aziraphale. I don’t think it’s even in your capacity to do anything like that.”

“And I haven’t supported it?” Aziraphale checked.

“Not that I’ve seen.” Crowley assured her.

“Oh good.” Aziraphale sighed in relief.

“Do you really want to see the worst of what men have to offer?” Crowley asked.

“I don’t know… do I?” Aziraphale winced.

“You ought to- for the reports to Heaven and such.” Crowley pointed out.

“I suppose…” Aziraphale sighed. “Where are we going, then?”

“A bar.” Crowley hummed. “Any will do, as long as it’s not gay.”

“Why not the gay ones?” Aziraphale furrowed her brows, following Crowley.

“You’re really asking that?” Crowley raised her brows, unimpressed. Aziraphale blushed again, and she sighed. “This isn’t just a fatal design flaw on the part of all men- it’s a mix of lust and the patriarchy. God did woman no favors making her from man. The way men see it, ‘man was made in God’s image, woman was made for man’. They feel superior to them- like they’re a link higher on the food chain. Mix that with lust, and they begin to feel entitled to them.”

“But God is a woman.” Aziraphale furrowed his brows. “Or… or at least that’s what I’ve heard.”

“Don’t go about trying to tell that to men .” Crowley chuckled.

“I’m sorry, but how does this all relate to your point about gay bars?” Aziraphale checked.

“Gay men don’t lust for women- they don’t even have an interest in them.” Crowley clarified. “It takes out the entitlement factor. So gay men are much better to women. And gay women- the sapphics- well… they know better than to put each other through that.”

“Oh.” Aziraphale blinked, processing that.

“So no gay bars.” Crowley sighed. “We can go to one a little later once we’ve taken enough of a beating from the regular bars.”

“Alright.” Aziraphale sighed.

She let Crowley take the lead. She figured she probably should have known about the entire gay thing- it made complete sense. Perhaps that was why people always assumed Aziraphale was queer- because he treated women so well. How sad was it that that might be indicative of someone’s sexual preferences? That was how little self-control the straight men had over themselves. Now, mind you, Aziraphale knew that was likely a harmful generalization. She was sure that not all straight men treated women this poorly. Most of them probably weren’t so obvious about how they felt about women- they discriminated more quietly, like Mr. Kennedy had. In retrospect, though, Aziraphale wasn’t sure which form of discrimination was worse- the louder and more obviously wrong one, or the one so quiet that society had deemed it ‘normal’.

She followed Crowley in the doors of a dingy looking establishment- though Aziraphale had tended to find all the bars she had been to a little dingy. It was lively inside- lots of men chatting and drinking, making merry. For the first time, Aziraphale noticed the staggering lack of a female presence within a bar. If Crowley’s word was anything to go on, perhaps none of the bars she’d been to had had a strong female presence. She gulped as eyes trained on her much faster than she’d anticipated, smirks starting to grow on the faces of some of her spectators. It was like she’d just walked straight into the lion’s den. She felt Crowley lean into her, and she held closely to her.

“You’ll get the best experience by playing along with them.” The demon muttered.

“Must we?” Aziraphale winced.

“It’ll be worth it.” Crowley promised. She sighed, relenting and following Crowley to sit on a barstool. “Two White Russians.”

“Coming right up, sweetheart.” The bartender winked at the would-be ladies. Wonderful. They were already being patronized.

“What’s a White Russian?” Aziraphale whispered.

“You’ll like it.” Crowley assured her.

The hairs on Aziraphale’s neck raised as some sort of sixth sense activated. Two men approached her and Crowley from behind, situating themselves on either side of the would-be ‘ladies’. You could tell that they weren’t there for drinks- their focus was trained on the ‘girls’, like a predator to its prey. They reeked of alcohol and cigarette smoke. Aziraphale had a pit in her stomach- she knew that this was going to be torture. Why had she let Crowley convince her to do this?

“Evening ladies.” The man beside Aziraphale winked. It took everything in her not to cringe. “How’s about I buy you a few drinks?”

“Sure thing, big guy.” Crowley giggled. Inwardly, Aziraphale was groaning. Outwardly, she forced herself to giggle as well, as though she found any joy in the prospect of this slimey man’s company.

“Hey buddy, next few rounds are on me.” The man told the barkeep, slurring his words slightly.

“Name’s Tom, ‘n my buddy is Dylan.” The other man introduced. “What can we call you fine ladies?”

“ Mrs . Fell and Mrs . Crowley.” Aziraphale introduced, with an emphasis on the prefixes.

“You related to an A.Z. Fell and an Anthony Crowley?” Dylan asked.

“I- we are .” Aziraphale stammered, shocked. “Those are… they’re our husbands. ”

“Visited their bookstore on my last trip overseas.” Dylan hummed. “I thought they were queer. ”

“Well, they can be rather strange .” Crowley teased.

“Mmmm… let’s leave the husbands out of this then.” Tom flashed her a wolfish grin. “What’re your names?”

“I-” Aziraphale began to protest.

“I’m Sadie, and my prudish friend is Dottie.” Crowley introduced, offering him a hand to shake. Instead, he yanked it up and kissed it sloppily up her arm. Crowley giggled along with it- but this time the laughter was more obviously fake.

Aziraphale shot Crowley a small frown- they hadn’t discussed new cover names. Then again, they also hadn’t discussed new cover wives . So they were about even, she supposed.

“Yes… Dottie Fell and Sadie Crowley.” Aziraphale confirmed warily.

“I’m Tom, and this is Dylan.” Tom introduced again.

“You’d mentioned that.” Aziraphale, aka Dottie, hummed softly. These men were both drunk as a skunk, which Aziraphale feared meant nothing good.

“What brings two lovely ladies like you into a place like this?” Tom asked.

“Just a night out on the town, exploring.” Crowley- or Sadie , for now- mused playfully.

“Must be so different from England.” Dylan hummed, running a hand down Aziraphale’s arm until it hooked around her side. She felt her breath hitch.

“Erm… yes, it is. Quite.” Aziraphale muttered softly before taking a healthy sip of her drink.

“It’s an awfully long way from home.” Crowley played along, not even flinching as Tom’s arm smoothed down her back and rested just above the danger zone. Instead, Crowley’s eyes were trained on the hands on Aziraphale’s waist. She looked as though she might strike at the slightest wrong move. “Everything here is so exciting !”

“I’m sure it is.” Tom hummed. “You know, if you ladies really want something exciting… we can show you the American Dream .”

“The American Dream ?” Aziraphale tried not to wince, praying with every ounce of strength that she had that he didn’t mean what she thought he meant.

“Mhm, all you gotta do is follow us over to our rooms at The Plaza.” Tom winked. It sent the entirely wrong kind of shiver down Aziraphale’s spine.

“But we just told you we were married !” Aziraphale gasped. “Shame on you!”

“Oh, it’s fine , Dottie- what would two women be doing in a bar if they didn’t want to wind up in someone else’s bed?” Crowley hummed, her tone now laced with more venom. “If we’re here, we can’t just be two girls having fun- we ought to be unhappy in our marriages and seeking a helping hand. Right, boys?”

“See, she gets it.” Dylan smirked, snaking his hand around her waist and to her front to pull her closer. Aziraphale’s eyes widened with more than just discomfort- with a bonafide sense of horror. “C’mon, darlin’. Relax. Get comfortable. I can feel how tense you are .”

“See, the thing is… we just came for a nice night out. ” Crowley sighed, the act dropped. She snapped, and the men both sported handcuffs, and then again and they were all outside. “A night in the cells for public intoxication won’t teach ‘em a lesson, but it ought to do some good.”

“At the very least it will ensure that they don’t get their hands on anyone else.” Aziraphale nodded, before taking Crowley’s hand and starting to walk away.

“Hey… wait…” One of the men protested. “Dottie… Sadie… I’ll love ya truly!”

“I’ll see you in hell, boys!” Crowley called back, a devilish smirk on her face. “We’re going to have a lot of fun.”

As they walked away from the bar, Aziraphale’s stomach tossed and turned. It lost none of the knots it had acquired through the night. The inequality he’d seen earlier was bad, but that… that confirmed a very scary truth for him: women were seen as objects here. Objects . Things a man could own- whether it be for pleasure, or housework, or cooking. They were possessions. And as possessions, men assumed they were capable of being stolen. It clearly didn’t matter how the woman felt about the matter- they only pretended to give the woman a say, but there were expectations. Aziraphale knew there ought to be a reason that Crowley pulled them back out before the men had gotten angry, and she decidedly did not want to know what that reason was. She feared , based on how touchy they’d gotten at the bars, that it might be violent.

“Oh Crowley… this is awful !” Aziraphale’s eyes started to well with tears. “It’s truly, truly awful.”

“I know, Angel.”Crowley soothed.

“And you knew all of this existed?” Aziraphale sniffed, tears running down her face, smudging her makeup in the process but she didn’t much care.

“Yeah… this entire mission is a formality for me.” Crowley admitted. “I had to do something for the paperwork.”

“How could you stand to be a man after knowing all of this?” Aziraphale choked out through a sob. “It makes me sick !”

“It’s terrible, Aziraphale.” Crowley hummed. “But the best way to make the world better for women is to be a good man, yeah? One that lifts a woman’s voice.”

“I suppose…” Aziraphale considered.

“The issue is, they aren’t being heard- the men won’t hear them.” Crowley sighed. “They’re refusing to change. But if some of us do listen, then… then maybe more will too. It can change.”

“You really think so?” Aziraphale sighed.

“I do.” Crowley hummed. “But you didn’t hear that from me, naturally- I wouldn’t want the world to get better, would I?”

“No… no, of course you wouldn’t.” Aziraphale chuckled softly under her breath.

Aziraphale never wanted to go through anything like that again. There were times in that bar when she had genuinely felt scared for her safety. She’d genuinely worried that those men might try to harm her if she refused them, or force themselves on her. Men were terrifying when you weren’t one of them. How had she never seen this side of Man before? She supposed they were civil with those they saw as equal. To this point, Aziraphale could have been counted in those ranks. This was her first experience outside of that, and for the first time she saw clearly the Beast inside of Man. This had all gone far too far, and the one question on loop in Aziraphale’s mind was whether she could have avoided all of this if she’d seen the signs and reported them to Heaven. She supposed not- she wasn’t sure Heaven would have deemed this issue ‘important’ enough to intervene. This world was in a sad, sad state. She only hoped that it wasn’t too late to turn things around.

————

“No no, I’m not saying there’s an error on God’s part- I would never!” Aziraphale corrected themself in a nervous chuckle. “I’m just saying that… that we may not have properly assessed the risks of allowing the patriarchy to flourish.”

Aziraphale stood in front of a council of Archangels. They way the angels pored into them, it almost felt like they were on trial. They were used to it, though, after so many years of working with them. After an amply eventful night, they were presenting their findings- trying to make the Archangels understand why exactly it was that women made up such a sizeable chunk of Heaven’s human population. The issue with Archangels is that they took everything as criticism - and they didn’t like to be criticized. Needless to say that this was becoming an unnecessarily painful experience.

“The basis of the patriarchy isn’t entirely unfounded, Aziraphale.” Uriel noted. “We made Woman as a companion to Man.”

“Yes- and again, I’m certainly not saying it’s our fault that this happened.” Aziraphale sighed. “But Man… Man has gotten a bit confused . Man isn’t just seeing Woman as unequal. They’re seeing her as something akin to a dog that can also cook, do the housework and bear children.”

“But that’s ridiculous- women clearly aren’t dogs!” Gabriel scoffed.

“I know.” Aziraphale bit their cheek softly ti try and suppress their frustration. “I don’t mean that that’s how they see them with their eyes. I mean that it’s how they perceive women in concept. Man thinks that Woman is able to be possessed, and that she should always be expected to give him exactly what he wants, when he wants it.”

“Oh.” Gabriel finally seemed to understand. “And that’s not good for Woman?”

“ No ! It’s not !” Aziraphale huffed, unable to restrain themself any further. “It puts them in an incredible amount of danger! Woman has next to no rights, no respect! They are being raised to measure their worth in how capable they are if cooking a good dinner! A fulfilling career is rarely an option for Woman, nor is a fulfilling education. And if all that isn’t bad enough, every time Woman walks out the door she is liable to be manhandled, tossed around or worse . So no, when I called Earth a ‘living hell’ for them in my report it was not an exaggeration !”

“Mind your tone, Aziraphale.” Michael warned, one of four cool glares that had trained on the Angelic Ambassador.

“Apologies.” Aziraphale sighed, trying to cool themself off before continuing. “A woman is a terribly frightening thing to be on Earth- and yet the majority take all of their blows in silence. They handle themselves with grace and poise. They do what they’re told with no complaint, when they ought to want to eliminate Man entirely . The fortitude of spirit they must exercise to not simply snap has to be worthy of a high commendation. I’ve no doubt that every woman who walks through the Pearly Gates deserves it.”

“Interesting.” Gabriel nodded shortly. “Well, thanks for filling us in, Aziraphale. Anything we can do for you in the meantime? Anything you need down there?”

“Can Heaven… Can Heaven give Man a nudge in the right direction?” Aziraphale asked timidly. “This can’t keep happening this way. Man has pinned these perceptions on God . Perhaps if we intervened, even in the smallest way…”

“We shall see, Aziraphale.” Uriel hummed, before following as Gabriel, Michael, and an Angel whose name slipped Aziraphale’s mind left the room.

We shall see . That was always what they said when nothing was going to happen. Humanity was going to have to rely on itself to fix the damage that had been done, and from what Aziraphale could gather… that was going to go slowly, if it even happened at all. Maybe there would be a momentary lull in the discrimination, but if Aziraphale had learned one thing from their time on Earth it was that history had the unfortunate habit of repeating itself. They feared that this was all just doomed to happen over and over again. Earth was stuck in a cycle that would never end.