#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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Eng Heng Chan

Paul Calle

Thorn Sophun

[lovelyyandereaddictionpoint]

High Stakes (1) | Yanderes x reader

The sound of your commander’s neck snapping was a lot less gory than you expected. Grateful that the only image you will have attached to this experience was their crumpled body on the floor. The culprit stared apathetically at you—who was bowing in acknowledgment. 

“You. Will be the new commander of this shuttle.”

“Yes Sir.”

There was nothing more to say as your superior angrily stalked out of the room, their cape and the scent of burned flesh left in the remaining breeze. Along with him, your new co-workers rushed after, purposefully avoiding your gaze as they stepped over your old boss. Hearing the air-tight doors seal shut you finally inhaled, delighting in the much-needed breath of air. Forcing yourself to breathe, although the tension in your body was about to be at an all-time high. 

The stakes were monumental. 

They are your life.

______________________________________________________________

After your former boss’s demise, you were able to adapt to your role. Successfully carrying out five years of managing a law-abiding, rebel-free, cargo ship. According to the contract you were demanded to serve for a total of six years before you were allowed to retire. Living frugally with room and board provided by the government you were more than prepared for an early retirement. The stressful atmosphere and sleepless nights were far too much for you to do this as long as the last guy. 

But of course, in your last months, it just wouldn’t be that simple.

“Commander (L/N)! We’ve captured two stowaways in the cargo bay!”

“Not unusual we give them the usual treatment and send them on a prison transport.”

“These two, are the recently caught rebels. Escapees from…his prison.”

“....I see. I’ll confirm their identities shortly.”

There was a 1 in 60% chance that your ship would be an unlucky vessel for trouble-seeking rebels. And with their recession on behalf of the newest supreme officer hard at work, you thought you’d have the privilege of not being in such an unlucky position. Eager for the last thing you hear not to be that dreadful snapping of bones.

You locked your office before heading to the brig. Passing by multiple armed guards marching on patrol. After having learned of the rebel’s presence you doubled the guards, even if you had yet to confirm it was them. Better safe than sorry.

The door opened with a hiss, your lieutenant officer especially red in the face as she turned from the cells. The cells were made of electric titanium, glittering as clear hexagons. An upgrade the new Supreme officer had made—saying even the most powerful rebels were slaves to its power. You were grateful you had them updated. 

“Commander this Rebel Scum, matches the description perfectly,” she huffed handing you the tablet that showed the recently taken mug shots of the prisoners.

The prisoner on the right was a lean fellow but the muscles he displayed were obvious. The tattoo of a prisoner marking his exposed upper shoulder, the sleeveless body shirt fashionably clashing against the tied jumper around his waist. The dull, dirtied gray jumpsuit evidently matched the standard issue for high-value prisoners. He was doing push-ups, seemingly for a while now— he had a darker complexion, sheened with the glow of a measurable amount of sweat. His hair, short and curly, remained unaffected bouncing in tandem with his vertical rhythm. Going up and down and up and down. He spared a look at you, brown eyes housing odd speckled flecks of gold.

This was he. 

Matthew Roche—a Human male, age 25, 210 cm, convicted of conspiracy, Assault of Multiple Officers, Treason, Shipment of Illegal Weaponry, and Sabotage.

Notes: Well-behaved in proximity to Prisoner #600 also known as “Ruu”, atypical human strength; give no utensils or any object that can deal damage with blunt force. 

“Like what you see? I’ve picked a fine man haven’t I?”

The coy and accented voice that rings out is muffled, coming from the adjacent cell. In there is the other convict. Skin a light pink and purple hair so dark you might’ve mistaken it for black, is a smirking fiend. Leaning against the wall closest to the other cell, he has a much shorter build. Barely a shred of muscle on his body and the tattered remains of a red jumpsuit hanging off his shoulders. You recognized that suit. 

“Did you kill and take the suit of one of my mechanics?”

“Ah recognize it do you? I took some creative liberties to maybe match my style a little.”

You didn’t relent, still waiting for him to answer your question. The convict pouted puffing his lips and crossing his arms. Scleras black and pupils red, pretending to squint with fake tears. You didn’t appreciate how long he was taking to answer. The furrowing of your brows, was all your lieutenant needed eagerly grabbing the remote control on the side of the cells. On the little panel connected by a wire to the cells, there was a lock for a key to release and eight buttons meant to depict the levels of electric energy. Your lieutenant eagerly clicked on the third button. Immediately the flash of light goes off, bolts of electricity dancing within the cell. The inmate within writhing in agonizing pain.

“Aaaagh!” 

Matthew banged the clear wall, seemingly unbothered by the numbing agent infused into it in favor of silently demanding she stop. You didn’t need to watch the prisoner writhe anymore, unbelievably feeling guilty for their obvious pain. 

“Yuki, please.”

She didn’t seem all that willing to listen but one look and she turned the effect off. The prisoner slumped into the wall reeling from the pain they were in. Still, they looked up at you with a smirk, with slow agonized breaths.

“I didn’t kill anyone…they’re just…sleeping it off in your oil garage.”

The lieutenant looks at the communicator on her wrist, quickly alerting the coworkers in that department. Next, she pulled up the hidden camera in the garage of the naked employee among the barrels proving that statement to be true. 

“Commander that statement appears to be true. They are still breathing.”

You hum, finally exhaling, and you officially check the tablet. The picture matches the defeated inmate in the cell, still rocking the same wide smile

This was Rumakia Hintoth Yeward colloquially known as “Ruu the Ruthless”-a Diagalos Male, age 134, 145 cm, convicted of Genocide, Murder of Multiple Officers, Treason, Conspiracy, Maiming, Public Indecency, and [REDACTED].

The following notes are also redacted the only words in big letters: NOTIFY SUPREME UPON CONFIRMATION. Sending a look at the recovering Diagolos, there was no doubt this was the rebel they so desperately were after. You’d have to send a call to the Supreme immediately. 

“Commander should I–?”

Turning to Yuki and her concerned face, speaking more than any words. You appreciated her offer, certain your previous authority would have taken it in a heartbeat but you were not him. Patting her on the back, you shook your head; purposely ignoring her worried expression and hand reaching out for you. 

“Prisoners, you’ll be dealt with in a day’s time. Please get your rest.”

The sentiment was a minor courtesy, almost one you made with pity in your heart. For who they were meeting with next would not be so merciful to stop at the third electric shock. You hoped for your crew’s sake the prisoners would be the only ones receiving that kind of attention. 

______________________________________________________________

You could smell the sweat of your crew. Their nervousness was all too palpable to you. You hoped your mask of apathy was of some comfort. Unless any of them spoke out of turn the only one with their head on the chopping block is you. 

“Supreme One, it’s an honor to have you here.”

The new Supreme was younger, the wrinkles on his face few and far between. Tastefully on the side of his mouth; similar to smile lines—though that was unlikely. He was donned in the usual black, the typical cape lying only on his right shoulder. Hands in gray gloves that were curled into fists at his sides.

“The pleasure will be all mine when I have my escapees.”

“Of course.”

With another bow, you walked alongside him. Leading him and his personal army of trained guards to the brig. Along the walk you could feel his burning gaze on…you. As unsettling as it was this was your superior in every way, as far as you know he could do anything he wanted. You wouldn’t be able to stop him anyway.

“I’m surprised,” his voice was smooth and sultry; the kind you would have liked a partner of yours to have if you had the time. “To think they employed someone as young as you. I thought I was the only one.”

You didn’t answer. Only nodded. 

What were you supposed to say?!

Continuing to walk alongside him, your comfort was placed on the prisoners. At the very least any unwanted attention would be siphoned from you to them the second he had the rebels in his grasp. All you needed now was for that to come to pass.

The wail of the alarm made you want to cry. 

Yuki’s voice rang out on the loudspeaker; your stomach further twisting on itself

“T-the ah–the prisoners have escaped! They’re headed for the docking bay, proceed with extreme caution. One is a Diagolos! Act accordingly with the emergency protocols–”

Her struggled warning, made it all too real.

Along with the blaring siren and the red emergency lights, you began to direct your guards. Splitting them off with intentions to funnel the prisoners into airlocks. The plan being if all else failed to jet them into space.

Amid your running mind, you felt a tight grip on your arm. It belonged to the Supreme One, pulling you along as he made his way to the airlock. Leading instead, it amazed you how he’d memorized the outline of a small-time cargo ship under his reign. 

“You come with me!”

You followed the best you could, surprised by the detour he was making. Truly curious as to what he had in mind.

“Sir this isn’t the way to the airlock shouldn’t we–”

“They’re going to split up, you might get one to go that way but you won’t get the other.”

With your help, the Supreme One made it through. Your hand and memorized codes made for an easy route for him to eventually come across a bloodied hallway. The emergency light coated the room in a dim red, terribly lighting the surmountable corpses on the ground. At the end of the hallway was Ruu holding a guard intimately, leaning their body against his knee. From afar it looked as though he was placing a passionate kiss on their neck. But alas the light revealed the exact opposite: where his pink lips were on their neck so were the elongated round fangs sucking the man’s blood and some of his organs out. In an instant the man shriveled up, their body deflating before being tossed to the ground alongside the other corpses. Above him stood Rumakia a bloody and wide smile on his face as he danced over his various meals.

“Well hello there dear Supreme it seems you found my jailer! How lucky am I that the two humans of interest are right in front of me!”

The Supreme One’s stoic face stretches into a smile—a twisted, wicked smile, you’re sure is worthy of a man ruling the government. He unsheathes a sword of light and electricity, illuminating the room much better. 

By now you felt it was time you excused yourself. As willing as you were to take the fall for your crew, dying in the midst of a battle of the most violent beings on the ship was not your forte. You tried to run, turning to where you originally came but were stopped. Like you weighed nothing the Supreme One had pulled you into his chest with his un-moveable grip, holding his electric sword in the opposite hand he started to laugh. 

“Come now, Rumakia! Attack me with my commander,” he’s holding you so tight but you refuse to move the memory of your commander’s crumpled corpse plaguing your mind. 

The irony of your similar fate, you fail to realize the specific way you’ve been pulled into the man behind you. Practically no space between you both; his breath, smelling of ashes tickles the side of your face. His nose sensually runs along your cheek as he taunts the fanged prisoner across from him.

“So lovely! I see why you traveled so far for this lifeblood,” the Supreme dares a lick to your sweating neck, “I can’t wait to enjoy them once I kill you!”

The alien across the way shrieks an ear-piercing howl, their hair widening in tandem. A fact about the Diagolos was that their thirst for blood was at its highest or in times of great stress invoked another ability than great strength—-the use of tendrils. So small and weak they mimic hair like any other species but within a specific set of circumstances their tendrils grow and act as additional limbs. That was exactly what was happening now and for Ruu with lusciously long hair meant a web of extra problems for the Supreme One.

Satisfied, the man holding you lets out a whistle, someone of his personal guard appearing behind him in an instant. With his electric sword cutting at the reaching tendrils, your superior twirls you throwing you into the arms of his guard—that doesn’t release you despite your struggling.

“Take the Commander to my ship. Kill anyone that gets in your way.”

The guard only nods before dragging you away, this time you don’t fight as another shrill cry echoes down the hallway. You let the guard lead you, so you can replay the moments before. It was puzzling to try and imagine what exactly was the competition. It couldn’t be you….could it? It’d be bizarre to believe that a prisoner who’s sustenance was blood traveled across the vast galaxy to find you. More than likely you just happened to have a blood type he was interested in…it had to be.

“Move!”

The aggressive pushing from the guard broke you from your thoughts. Passing by the corpses of the same soldiers you’d sent away made you pause. The guard groaned before lifting you up, carelessly tossing you over their shoulder to trudge over their bodies. Your memories with the people they were replay and you feel an overwhelming sense of guilt. 

A commander should go down with their ship, right?

You attempted to leave, tearfully reciting the exact thing, hoping to appeal to the person behind the mask. And for a moment they pause seemingly taking your ask into consideration.

“Didn’t want to do this.”

They were swift, unsheathing an electric zapper and jamming it into your side. The force of the jab—painful and the electrocution—burning. You're left to writhe with the resounding pain as the guard moves to pick you up again. Securing your limp body on their shoulder they plan to continue on their way.

“H-hey let them go!”

The pain is paralyzing and you struggle to lift your head much further but you recognize the voice. It’s Yuki. Hardly able to look you note the stance she’s in, the growing crimson puddle beneath her, and the way she leans against the wall. She’s hurt. You want to call out to her, but any attempt to get her attention is thwarted by the guard turning around. Forced to look at the blackness of their uniform you feel them chuckle and pull out a weapon. It doesn’t click the way the zapper did. 

It clicks the way guns do.

“With your condition, I doubt you’ll survive this. Not really one to be making demands.”

A shot rings out and she screams. 

She’s not dead but you can smell that familiar smell of burning flesh.

“Any regrets?”

“Just that…I can’t promise you it’ll be any better with them, (Y/n)...but I hope it’s better than with him..”

“What?!” 

You’re moving again despite the aches in your body. You move to look up, finding your poor lieutenant with a ghastly paleness on her face covered in blood. A shot rings out and her final words ring loudly in your ears. 

Who could she mean by they?

She couldn’t possibly mean...?

“What a waste of energy that bi–” your retainer was halted by the baffling sight of a hand sprouting from the front of their chest. Looking down and blankly trying to hold the hand sticking out of him, their mouth fills with blood as the hand retreats. Finally, you’re released, awkwardly catching yourself with aching legs as they descend to the floor. Above them is none other than Matthew.

“You! But why would you—?”

“We have to leave now. Do you need me to carry you?”

The voice that leaves his lips moves something in you, you’ve rarely felt moved before. So consumed with work you never could begin to think of anything romantic with anyone, But hearing his voice and being grabbed by the sturdy hands attached you felt a need like never before. Perhaps it was the electricity, influencing you to lose your inhibitions as you failed to register any of the words coming out of his mouth. Only when his lips stopped moving and he tilted his head did you begin to think maybe you should reply but then you’d have to remember what was said. And that just wasn’t possible.

“What?”

Unlike the guard before he didn’t sigh exasperatedly, just bent down and picked you up. Holding you in that forbidden carry, cradling your back and thighs. Something must be wrong. So very wrong. Despite all your knowledge of the horrors that had been committed by the man holding you, your hands still reached for his face. Squishing what little fat remained of his cheeks and rubbing your thumbs over those delectably plump lips. This felt like there was something terribly wrong. But you also couldn’t stop.

“Have you always been this pretty?”

The stoic face that was oh-so focused on his unannounced mission, looked at you in surprise. Then like the moon coming out on a cloudy day, he smiled. It made this unfamiliar part of you swoon, demanding you lean and nuzzle into the neck of a criminal.

“So sappy, I was worried I wouldn’t make it in time.”

It was Rumakia, even more bloody than you when you had left him, wearing a form-fitting body suit with a cape that dragged on the floor—a trophy from a battle won with your superior no doubt. Skipping over more fallen companions of yours but for some reason, you couldn’t bring yourself to care. Leaning into the alien’s touch he held your face in his hands, making eye contact with his red eyes. For some reason, you felt significantly hotter. 

“Who would’ve thought our pheromones would take into effect now? During our little coup…but I’m not complaining. I’ve been waiting far too long for this.” 

His kisses were like ice cubes in an intense Earthian Summer, refreshing and addictive. They continued trailing from the corner of your mouth to the veins of your neck, an oddly cool feeling of a sickled tongue going up and down and up—

“W-what’s going on? What’s happening?”

Ruu giggled the clutch on your face trailing to your jaw with a focus on your neck. More kisses and the grazing of something sharp–like the flat side of a blade threatening to turn over any moment. What should have incurred your fear, instead incited your heartbeat to increase in excitement.

“This is what I was after for so long. Letting myself get captured and roughed up when I easily could have massacred them all.”

With not a second wasted Rumakia plunged his fangs into your neck and began to suck at your blood. Feeling your energy drain should have been terrifying, thinking of the guard you saw literally being sucked to death. Instead, you felt a pooling heat below your waist, causing you to uncomfortably shuffle. Ruu was moaning and you felt inclined to join registering how you were being brought to the ground from your elevated state. The light weight of a body being positioned on top of you and those hands fondling every part they could. It felt good but so confusing.

The loss of energy already drained from the stress of the Supreme One’s visit.

The weird heat burning beneath your clothes.

And the inviting touches of the alien above you. 

It was too much. 

And then it stopped.

The only thing remaining was that unbelievable heat as the fangs left your body and you looked up at Ruu. His lips and chin coated in your blood, looking down at you with a dark pink blush overtaking his face. Behind him was Matthew looking upset…but not in the way you would be if anyone was having their life sucked from them in front of you. No, it was more of a pout. Ruu followed your gaze to look at the man, tilting his head.

“I would have liked you to do this on our ship,” he looked around the room, the floor practically covered in corpses—the corpses of your friends and coworkers, “I doubt when they come to their senses they’ll appreciate having their first with you here...among all of them.”

Enjoying your clearer conscious, you agreed with him. But you still had so many questions. 

Ruu scoffed flipping some of his hair off his shoulder, that wide smile returning as he looked at Matthew.

“Hmph so? They don’t get a say anyway, they're my human! Why should I even care what they think about these lessers? If they’ve got the headspace to be thinking about anyone but us than we clearly aren’t satisfying them enough.”

Matthew sighed shaking his head, as he extended his hand to Ruu. Pulling him up and hugging, you once again got to see that rare smile on his face. Sharing a peck between them, Ruu was the one who pulled away easily picking you up and balancing you so that he was cradling you. 

“Come on then let’s get to the ship then! I’ve been waiting so long for this.”

Matthew let out a laugh, taking you from the alien resuming his princess carry. Inviting you to rest on his shoulder as he walked alongside Ruu, casually making conversation about the crew your crew they murdered. 

“Were you the one to get rid of that annoying lieutenant? They were so annoying! Kissing up and then daring to electrocute me just for joking!” 

“I started to but in the end, they proved to be useful.”

“Hmph, I wish I could’ve been there. To see the light fade from her eyes would have been a dream!”

“But you got the Supreme pest, right?”

“I did. That vermin actually touched them, can you believe it? I know he’s half Diagolos and their blood type is nice but the sheer audacity was nauseating.”

“Maybe we can get the rebellion to…thank us.”

“Hm, and that ‘thank you’ can come in the shape of a moon all to ourselves.”

“That’s very unlikely.”

“...Money wouldn’t be too bad, then.”

A wave of exhaustion struck you harder than any you’ve felt. Reluctantly given into sleep fully leaning into Matthew. Eyes closed and your consciousness fading you felt warm lips lovingly brush against your forehead. 

“Rest easy, my love.”

“You’re where you belong.”

______________________________________________________________

Matthew shot a hand straight through the enemy’s head, uncaring of the way it lifelessly flopped in front of him. Moving onto the oncoming soldiers coming around the corner he did the same thing he always did: disarming the obstacles and clearing the path for his clients. Checking over his shoulders he listens to them gush about the information they received with one another. He doesn’t sigh, but he does throw the last obstacle at their feet. Startling them and regaining their attention.

“Time to move. We still have to meet the others at the rendezvous point.”

He was glad he mentioned it, their eyes lit up and they moved a lot quicker. Resisting the urge to roll his eyes at the predictability, he centers himself. As a human, his ability to sense others wasn’t incredibly complex but if there was anyone he could find in an instant it was his love. With a tad more urgency Matthew runs through the clean and industrial halls of the Grand Empire's Ship. 

Their latest clients weren’t his favorite group to work with, considering it always involved dabbling with the oligarchy regime. But it wasn’t his decision, it was his partner’s. In Matthew’s opinion an incredible privilege for such a bodacious operation. If it wasn’t for the one gift, his love had been given they’d have no allegiance to the ragtag group. 

“Nice to see you all in one piece.”

The familiar voice made Matthew swoon, resisting the urge to smile. Settled to stand behind Rumakia as he spoke with the rebels. All smiles and light speech; Matthew let him do the talking since he didn’t bother sugarcoating anything. 

“Thank you for your help Rumakia sir!”

“You know I’m only here to repay a debt. After this gig, I’ll take my payment and go.”

“Of course. Let’s take the drives and cruise out of here with the trash as our cover!”

Like any other mission the entire group retreats to their ship, floating away with the trash dumped before the enemy ship jettisons back out to space. As they drifted with the debris collectively watched several cargo ships dock. It’s then that Matthew is finally compelled to watch the 5th cargo ship slot into place. 

A sweltering heat made him sweat, his body suit clinging to his skin tighter than before. His heart beating impossibly loud he held his hand over his peck as if to muffle it. Heavy breathing and some unneeded rush of adrenaline drying his mouth. 

“Hey, what a find! That’s the cargo ships transporting the hyperdense generators! Highly explosive and probably what’s fueling their latest weapons….”

“We should circle back and blow those up. If we can impede their operations for only a month that’d help us the most.”

Matthew felt a small hand on his lower back, slightly soothing with Ruu’s cold fingers. It grounded him more than he’d admit to--hearing his voice.

“We wouldn’t mind taking the mission to get on that ship. Say one of those generators might save us another job or two.”

Matthew was amazed at how well Ruu could keep his cool. Of the many conversations they had about their bonding, the Diagolan confided in him what it felt like to first be aware of Matthew. Apparently along with the intense heat, there was an overwhelming need to feed—an animalistic drive to get through all obstacles to get to his mate. Seems like the second time he’d gotten better at managing it. 

“To put you on the ship would be unnecessary but if you were really eager to get one of the generators that can be arranged. There is a transferring of their mechanics from the prison to the cargo ships though that route…”

The rebel trailed off, their face twisting into a grimace that made Matthew worry. It made Ruu impatient.

“OUT WITH IT! *ahem* What about it?”

The rebel’s eyes widened at the intensity before coughing up an answer, “The prison that switches mechanics is from HIS private prison…our records indicate they do more than just monitor your every move.”

Matthew wasn’t against dealing with torture. He’s done that before. It seemed the issue was the time constraint. On a mission with quick timing, he’s sure he could appease Ruu. Sucking his blood and sex would be sufficient, but enduring a prison sentence, torture, and being separated? That would be a feat.

“We’ll do it.”

“Huh?!”

“You heard me, HUMAN! We’ll do it.”

“But the stakes are so high! There’s no guarantee you’ll survive if HE catches wind that you’re after a generator.”

Matthew couldn’t help but agree this could be even more dangerous if that thing knew what they were actually after. And being detained under that one’s supervision could be fatal when it comes to torture.

The stakes were high.

Ruumakia knew this too, his elongating claws scratching into the leather padding of his seat.

“We’ll do it,” Matthew spoke this time, slipping a hand onto the thigh of his lover. 

They had to.

Because you are their life.

Sequel maybe? 🖤🖤🖤🖤

[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.

[skyfallscotland]

The constant "maybe you should have re-read Fourth Wing and Iron Flame before jumping into Onyx Storm, don't blame the author for you being confused" posts are getting on my last nerve.

Stop being a pick me. Do you think we're all over here saying there were "so many people" because we're referring to Lynx & Baylor?

Sorry, I'm upsetti spaghetti. I was fighting for my life with my brain trying to remember all this in the first ten chapters, sorry I thought it was going to be important 🙃

Duke of Calldyr - short blond beard, four different consorts in four years

Duchess of Elsum - dark brows

Duchess of Morraine - high pitched voice, golden-brown skin, ruby earrings and necklace

Duke of Luceras

Queen Maraya - light brown skin, dark eyes, curly hair

Captain Anna Winshire - talkative, strawberry-blond, brown eyes

Captain Henson - female, tightly woven black braids, air wielder

Lieutenant Pugh - male, blue eyes, farsight

Lieutenant Foley - male, agrarian (plant-wielding)

General Tinery - in command of the Southern Wing

Ewan Faber - stocky, sour-faced, Navarrian Fourth Wing wingleader

Iris Drue - wingleader of Navarrian First Wing

Theophanie - long silver hair, high cheekbones and full mouth, pale skin, tattoo on forehead, beautiful, venin sage or maven

They were all introduced in the first ten chapters. Of a 60+ chapter book. This doesn't include description only characters, dragons, or places.

She did a really good job in the last book of introducing the Assembly as "silver beard" or "battle-axe", getting their descriptions stuck in our heads before we moved onto actual names and that, in my opinion, worked really well. That kind of technique can sometimes be greater than throwing a whole bunch of names in off the bat like she did with all these captains and lieutenants, especially if they're not going to be important.

Sometimes giving them a name is giving them significance—to me, it signifies to the reader hey, these people are going to be around a lot, you should know them!

I've also seen people saying "well there's a map and an index" ...these people aren't on there. The Isles aren't on the map. I have no visual for where we're going. If you're worried about spoilers, you can always put the "new" map at the end of the book for those who want to see.

I'm not 'blaming' Rebecca Yarros. She's allowed to make whatever choices she wants, it's her book, but these are choices she's made that she could have made differently, and I don't think it's kind to be calling other people idiots because you think we're all out here forgetting who Tecarus is because you only took in the surface level.

How are we supposed to know who is going to be important? We don't know where the story is going and all of this is getting shoved at us one by one in the opening chapters.

Also, as a generally nice human being, if I were on the other side of this discourse, I would have said "I'm not sure how people are so confused, what are you missing?" Not, "sorry you're too stupid to understand, maybe you should not be reading fantasy" 😃

The internet has made it far too acceptable for people to be rude to others. We're allowed to all have our own experiences and disagree. You can do that without denigrating other people's opinions and gatekeeping fantasy? Ew.

I don't dislike Rebecca or the series in general, I think she did a fantastic job with introductory world-building and introducing characters in the first two books, it's why I like it so much. The techniques she used worked. I just don't think she used them as effectively this time 🤷‍♀️

As I constantly say, if you only read it on surface level, if you're just here casually for the vibes, I love that for you! I wish I was you! But the toxic positivity can fucking go.

[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♡���� 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.

  ↳ achelous can somewhat understand animals, but it's not like voices he hears from people, it's more like a basic understanding of what they want, so he sometimes gives them what they ask of him. he is sometimes called the soother in the town due to his ability to calm down even the most rowdiest of animals.

(will continue to update this whenever i get ideas)

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

[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.)

[archivist-crow]

Beast of Gevaudan (1764-1767)

Werewolf terror in the Gevaudan region of south-central France.

From July 1764 to June 1767, a pair of large and unusually colored man-eating wolves attacked and killed 60 to 100 people or more in Gevaudan, causing a wide-scale panic. Many feared the killings to be the work of a single wolf; others believed the creature to be a tiger or hyena, or the offspring of a tiger and lioness. Still others believed the Beast (La Bête) to be a werewolf.

A poster printed in 1764 described the unusual Beast:

Reddish brown with dark ridged stripe down the back. Resembles wolf/hyena but big as a donkey. Long gaping jaw, six claws, pointy upright ears and supple furry tail—mobile like a cat's and can knock you over. Cry: more like horse neighing than wolf howling.

Montague Summers gave this description based on an article in London Magazine in 1765:

For months this animal panic-struck the whole region of Languedoc, and is said to have devoured more than one hundred persons. Not merely solitary wayfarers were attacked by it, but even larger companies traveling in coaches and armed. Its teeth were most formidable. With its immense tail it could deal swinging blows. It vaulted to tremendous heights, and ran with supernatural speed. The stench of the brute was beyond description.

King Louis XV took a personal interest in the situation, for the panic could have political ramifications. The Gevaudan area was actually an independent state (it was not annexed to France until 1791) and was rife with tensions between the Huguenots and Jesuits. Huge bounties were posted for the killing of the Beast. Teams of professional wolf-hunters and dogs fanned into the forests. Several detachments of dragoons joined the hunt as well. At the height of the panic, more than 20,000 men joined the hunt in several parishes. More than 1,000 wolves reportedly were killed.

One of the more appalling means of trying to kill the Beast was an extensive use of poison, advocated by the king's chief wolf-catcher, M. Denneval. Dogs were fed high doses of poison, and their tainted carcasses were left out as bait for the Beast. Instead, the carcasses attracted and killed domestic dogs, farm animals, and other animals. The poisonings were finally ended when too many working dogs were lost among the peasants.

The Beast eluded all efforts. In one week in June 1765 alone, four people were killed and eaten: a woman, an eight-year-old child, a 15-year-old girl, and another person. Most victims were mutilated and torn to pieces; some remains were too small for burial. One girl was recognized only by her eyes.

The peasants became convinced that the Beast was a werewolf sorcerer, and would never be caught. One farmer claimed that he had seen it and had heard it speak. The terror finally came to an end when the male wolf was killed on September 21, 1766, and the female of the pair was killed in June 1767.

The wolves may have been dog-wolf crosses. They were exceptionally large for wolves, and they had unusual colorations and markings.

Abridged text from The Encyclopedia of Vampires, Werewolves, and Other Monsters (Checkmark Books, 2005) by Rosemary Guiley

[eegnm]

Hello. I hope I’m not too late for my OC. So, Sylvia Murphy is a late 70s/early 80s driver (Brabham, much resigned to dealing with Burnie Ecclestone). One of the ‘old school’ analyst mechanic types. Would have excelled in the 60’s. Face claim is Alyssa Healy, except with dark brown hair and brown eyes. Short fluffy hair in contrast with the male drivers having long hair in that era. Appears very serious to outsiders, but has the typical Australian dry humour. Let me know is you need more information

I tired! Hope you like it struggled a little 😅

[phill-art]

Commissions open!

Here's the character I did:

Race: Tabaxi (Pallas’ cat) 

Class: Monk (Way of the Wu Jen) 

Sex: Male 

Personality: Batu’s practice as a monk gives him a calm disposition - serious but not stuffy. Friendly, earnest and intelligent. A curious and explorative scholar by nature who tries to find the joy in small things. He is the type who would spare a few extra moments along his way to observe a beautiful spider in its web or to take in some particularly fascinating architecture and would be happy to tell you about it, if you wish.

Age: Early 20’s – an adult, but young 

Height: Head to toe - 3’ 10” / 117 cm. Tail length - 1’ 9” / 53 cm. 

Weight/build: About 60-65 pounds, but appears heavier due to a stocky build and dense fur. You can’t see too much musculature. 

Hair color/Style: I’ve put this in skin color instead since he has fur 

Eye color: Dark yellow with a bit of green. His pupils are round instead of slit. 

Skin Color: His fur is an even mix of grey, white, brown, and black all over his body that helps to blend in with a rocky environment. On his forehead going towards the top of his head are a handful of small black spots. Starting at the outer and inner corners of his eyes and going diagonally downward are two black stripes flanking one white stripe. Under his neck and chin is a small mane with whiter coloring. Down his tail are 6 black stripes and the very tip is solid black.

Items/Weapons: Batu uses a short sabre, similar in style to a Chinese duandao. 

The sword has been crafted for one of his size and stature, and so it's not oversized. Modest in appearance with no special decoration. He carries a spell book on his belt, along with a small satchel for spell ingredients. 

The spell book has an aged, very dark orange binding with bronze corner protectors and two buckles around the outside to keep it closed. The book is clearly old but in good shape. It is definitely more ornamental than his other possessions, with decorative embossing of a horse head in the middle surrounded by bronze embellishments that are made to look like lightning bolts. Even so, it is not what one would consider flashy.

Clothing top: A dark blue hunnu-style deel, knee length. There are a handful of circular floral design throughout the material, but it is not overly decorative. A yellow sash helps secure the deel around his waist. A brown belt is above the sash, and from it hangs a spell book as well as a small satchel. 

Clothing bottom: Blue breeches that match the color of his deel, slightly more form-fitting, that are secured at the ankle with thin brown leather straps. 

Footwear: No footwear for this little guy

[yanderecrazysie]

Idol Chapter 2: Game Start

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

Chapter One: here

Next Chapter: 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.

[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

[amberscriminalmind]

panic room💔

pairing : bau team x platonic!fem ssa reader

summary : agent alaia saint angelis is murdered by an unsub who just happens to be someone a little too close to home

warnings : murder, guns, blood, crying, character death, torture, grief

a/n : reworking this for my new criminal minds tumblr is a dream tbh and it sounds so cheesy!

ssa alaia saint angelis knew she couldn't stand quietly and let this unsub get away with his crimes. however, with that, she really should have been more thought out with her decision-making skills. most especially as an fbi agent with the behavioural analysis unit.

yet, if agent saint angelis' decision was later questioned, it would be 100% defended by her team and say that whilst it could have absolutely been more thought out, her plan was still the most logical idea as well as the only way in which the unsub was going to meet his end as a serial killer.

now, in her almost ten years with the bau, alaia has been through many a torture chamber but none were as horrific as the one that currently had her hanging by her wrists which was attached to the top of the ceiling of an old warehouse. refusing to show the fear that she didn't have, she put her life on the line so many times at this point that it almost becomes something of a dark joke within the bau that acted like therapy and to make light of all the times the thirty-year-old had been kidnapped and tortured whilst on a case.

however, this torture was the one case that wouldn't ever be a laughable one, even in the far-off future. this was for sure the one case that alaia knew she wasn't going to come out of alive. this warehouse was the panic room that haunted alaia's dreams every single night. and this was with the constat denial to her fellow agents as well as herself regarding the nightmares she'd have about this warehouse.

the unsub that alaia and dr spencer reid, who was also her boyfriend, were tasked to capture was a 60-year-old male, just shy of 6ft tall with shaggy brown hair and dirty brown eyes that looked black at the right angle with the stench of a garbage collector. the unsub's name was peter saint angelis meaning he was related to the bau's youngest agent, alaia's paternal uncle.

it was this reason that had her throwing herself into the danger zone over the rest of her team. but, that didn't mean that alaia threw herself into that warehouse on her own, she had her boyfriend spencer with her as her second. she made a promise to her whole family that even if it killed her, it would be her that would disolve her uncle's 30-odd year reign of terror as a serial killer. restoring the safety to the wider state of virginia and country of united states ofd america.

"...why is it that you always have to sacrifice yourself for your team, alaia? is this something that gives you a buzz? an excitement?" the gruff voice of alaia's uncle peter made the girl's entire body shiver as she grunted, really showing off her body strength as she held herself up

"now i get it when non-american's tell us we're stupid. this is my job, of course it doesn't give me excitement!" the 30-year-old spat back, not wanting the niceties to be much longer, the man understanding that almost straight away

"how could i forget, alaia! you've always wanted to prove to the family that you could catch me and throw me away for my crimes. only taken thirty years to have anyone to match my intelligence clearly since you don't seem to mind that you'll be my final victory before getting locked up for good!" the man snarled as alaia dryly chuckled at her uncle, reminding her once again of his insanity

"i don't want to nor do i need to prove anything to anyone! i promised my family years ago, even before i joined the academy that i would find you and i would be the one to arrest you. and now that it's finally happening, i'm just happy that you're finally getting locked away for good! i was 19 then when i first joined and now i'm 30 and only one small thing has changed about that statement" alaia huffed out, her attitude really testing her uncle's patience, just like it did when she was younger as the older, grotesque man crossed his arms over, daring to challenge his fed niece

"okay then, enlighten me my dear niece, what's changed in the last 10 years, alaia saint angelis?" peter teased as alaia chuckled to herself, always up for the fun that was challenging her dad's older brother

"the fact i no longer care knowing that you'll kill me tonight before my team lock you away for the rest of your life. as long as the rest of my family are alive to see you be thrown into that dirty and unkept prision cell and finally have their chance to be heard and have justice brought to then, it doesn't bother me that i'll have died. because it'll mean that i died a hero and not for nothing, they'll know that it was me that saved our family and helped them get their justice for the crimes you've commited for 30 long years. a decision you made because you couldn't shut those little voices up in your head any longer, the voices getting so loud that you couldn't handle it any longer, unable to deal with them so you began to murder and torture people just for the fun of it because you are sick!" alaia spat, not caring at all that she was already covered in blood, blood that was dripping from her forehead and feet

the only thing she cared about was her family and all the other families finally getting the justice they deserved years ago. this was the moment when alaia wished that she had eidetic memory since she couldn't even remember that her own boyfriend had come with her into the warehouse, also getting caught by her uncle. though spencer was only restrained to a metal chair in front of her as he opened his eyes, making eye contact with the woman he loved.

a flash of memory then came across alaia as she moved to make eye contact with him. she knew he'd be just as terrified as she would be. wordlessly, without peter realising since he was distracted, alaia comforted spencer, letting him know that whilst it looked like it hurt from the way she was hanging by her hands, she was completely fine and that she was able to handle it. the moment that she got the confirmation head nod from spencer, she focused back to peter, who had seemed to suddenly remember also, that he had kept spencer restrained to a chair sitting right in front of alaia, whilst he had stood slightly off to the side.

"...huh, seems like you hadn't forgotten about spencer like i would have thought you did, i mean, i forgot about him for a second because of how quiet he is..." peter trailed off in a taunting voice as alaia rolled her eyes

when all of a sudden the sounds of the warehouse lights sounded, the burst of light making both agents turn away due to how bright it was and how their eyes still needed adjustment.

"...of course, i didn't, you douchebag! now, what are you going to do to him, peter?" alaia started to slightly panic but didn't show it, hoping the team, whilst wired and connected, were still close by

as well as able to have the opportunity and chance of rescuing spencer, her worry not even about her.

"absolutely nothing, alaia. i mean, it's not like i've forgotten, nor has spencer, the speech you screeched to me and anyone who cares to watch this live feed at the beginning of this whole ordeal..."

"...but in case you have forgotten, let me remind you. you screamed for spencer not to be hurt nor touched and i haven't. i haven't laid a single finger on dr reid and i won't because i'll be too focused on disfiguring you to the point you're unidentifiable to even think about giving that squib a second look..." peter trailed off, spencer letting out a wrangled cry which made the uncle and niece snap their heads

peter moving closer to his niece to move a strang of her hair behind her ear. alaia immediately trying to console spencer. even the most experienced law enforcement officers and fbi agents got scared.

"..ssh, spence, please, it's okay! i'm okay, i promise, he hasn't hurt me!" alaia tries to convince her boyfriend that the torture wasn't painful at all as spencer could only trust her since she hadn't screamed once

"she's right pipe cleaner, she hasn't screamed. not once, not since she begged on her knees for me to hurt her instead of you..." peter's voice was no longer a snicker but monotone which was even worse

spencer's mind relaying that moment back in his head. he had never seen his girlfriend beg like that in their entire time at the bau together and neither had the rest of the team. they were watching this happen via the live feed that penelope hacked into after getting the link by peter since he knew they'd try to hack into it anyway.

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"...please, peter, i beg of you, take me instead and leave spencer alone! torture me, whatever it is you want, do it to me cause i can take it! spencer and the rest of my team have done nothing wrong to deserve this, keep your hands off of all of them, not just spencer!" she begged, tears almost welling in her eyes as she fought against them

she had never sounded so sure but pained at the same time as she saw her uncle drift closer to her boyfriend as though a taunt to his niece. in her almost decade of serving as a federal agent with the fbi's behavioural analysis unit, ssa alaia saint angelis had never begged an unsub for anything. let alone for her boyfriend ssa dr spencer reid to be spared by the unsub.

the rest of spencer and alaia's team; derek morgan, emily prentiss, jennifer (jj) jareau, penelope garcia, david rossi and aaron hotchner watched the security camera live footage with anxiety and uncertainty for their two youngest members. the team was usually so fearless so whenever something bad happened to either spencer or alaia, the team was always at their most vulnerable. the girls had tears blurring their vision and the guys held their tears and their anger as the team sat in silence. none of them making a sound as they watched the live feed that had been sent to penelope for this very reason. making the team's blood boil.

peter was still not budging on his niece's pleas to leave spencer alone. neither spencer nor alaia had been restrained as yet as they had just arrived but peter had already thrown things at them and given both of them minor concussions.

if it took alaia begging on her knees to get peter away from spencer, she would do anything to make sure he stayed safe. and that's what she did. getting down to her knees, alaia raised her hands in the air and placed her gun from its holster and discarded it to the floor. begging her uncle to leave her boyfriend alone and to take her as his hostage, torturing her so that her boyfriend would be safe and sound. having more of a chance of making it out alive even if it meant alaia losing her life.

"come on peter, please! stay away from spencer, don't even think of going near him. torture me and use all your toys because you'll have so much more fun hurting me then you would hurting spencer. please, let me take spencer's place, he has so much more life left to live and new things to research and find out about life. he...he has to take care of his mom, he has to find a cure for her! please, leave him alone!" alaia begged again, this time on her knees as peter finally caved, his mind changed as alaia eased

however, that didn't stop peter from shoving and tying spencer into a chair, right in front of the chains that were about to suspend alaina into the air.

spencer had never felt or seen such fear in his life until this moment in front of him. it wasn't even him being tied up to the chair that terrified him. the thing that scared him the most was having to watch the love of his life, the girl he wanted to marry be tortured and killed right in front of him with a front row seat to the show. their team also helplessly watching, their fellow agent being killed by someone who once loved her and who once would do anything in his means to protect her.

"alaia, what are you doing?" spencer whimpered, his voice unable to mask just how afraid he was, alaia smiling softly

"i'm saving your life, spence. i can't let you die, you mean way too much to me. you've been through so much and it's time i received some pain, i'm lessening the load," alaia smiled, keeping up her strength as peter drew ever so closer to his niece so he could start assembling the torture machine

peter then grabbing her and chucking her against a wall. spencer and the team flinching as they watched, the noise alaia's body made as it connected with the wall wasn't good at all. more blood beginning to pool at the back of her head, matching the blood that now trickled down her forehead from the force of the push.

the metal chains loudly clasped her hands above her head as she hung with her feet no longer touching the ground beneath her as she remained tough and unafraid. a smile suddenly formed on the young agent's face as she suddenly giggled at how unflattering this pose must have looked to spencer and the team at the angle they were watching it at. saying it in a way to make the horrific situation more comedic, however, it of course didn't land as well as she wanted it to land.

"this pose must look very unflattering to you guys right now..." alaia giggled suddenly as she then looked down, the mortified look of her boyfriend, spencer, as well as her team who she couldn't see, didn't find it as comedic as she thought they would have

halting her laughter, alaia quietly gulped, not knowing what else she could say to fill the suddenly eerie silence that fell throughout the abandoned warehouse. peter ignoring the exchange as he continued to set up his torture chamber.

🚨

alaia's begs to save spencer in replacement for her was working. she smiled to herself that her boyfriend was safe, though he was having to watch his girlfriend be tortured right in front of him whilst restrained, he was safe.

no more than a second longer did peter wait before his homemade torture equipment was powered up before it started to tear into and shock alaia's body. the equipment varied from kitchen appliances like knives and screwdrivers and forks to none kitchen appliances like ice picks, and a baseball bat.

an electric wire would end up being bound around alaia's legs as well as other things that burnt into the agent's skin. alaia's entire body was being torn into and was on fire however that gorgeous, loving, caring, bright smile remained etched on her face. not once letting it falter or letting herself scream out in pain for her uncle to switch the torture equipment off.

alaia knew that it bothered her uncle immensely that she wasn't reacting to the torture. she knew he always thrived off the pain of his victims. yet she'd always been known to have the physical and mental strength from the beginning of her life to be able to withstand whatever he tortured her with. so, alaia could tell that her uncle was a firecracker about to explode and about set the whole warehouse ablaze because he wasn't getting the reaction he wanted from his victim.

however, peter wasn't stupid. he was still smart enough to figure out the possible weakness of his niece and that was seeing her boyfriend weak and freak out. alaia's kryptonite was seeing her boyfriend or anyone she loved in pain. whether it was seeing them cry, sick or in pain, seeing anyone but spencer especially in some sort of pain made alaia vulnerable.

it was most definitely her biggest weakness but it was never something to worry about. this was the first time an unsub had a personal connection to one of the agents. so, that was when peter decided to use it against his niece to see how she'd react by turning up the level of pain on the equipment that she was hooked up to. which of course effectively made spencer thrash around in his seat, crying out for peter to stop.

the rest of the team barely able to continue watching as peter turned up the dial on the power grid and they heard it. spencer's screeches for peter to stop. the worst part of all of it was that penelope and the rest of the team were still nowhere near close enough to finding the goddamn adandoned warehouse in downtown virginia.

"alaia! peter, stop it...please, leave her alone! you've done enough, you've hurt her enough! she's bleeding, peter! please, peter....put...put her down! you're hurting her! please...stop...peter!" spencer sobbed, the hot tears streaming down his face as he thrashed around in the restrains that were stopping him from saving her himself

"spence, please, it's okay! it doesn't hurt, i promise, i can't even feel a single thing!" alaia attempted to comfort her devastated boyfriend as peter groaned

both his plans of inflicting the most pain on his niece and making her scream and cry weren't working and it pissed him off. so, that was when he decided he needed to go a step further and bring out the big guns

"is it bad that she can't feel it, hotch?" jj questioned, the tears she had fought hard to keep at bay streamed her cheeks

her head turned away, no longer looking at the screen but at her unit chief, aaron hotchner, the man not knowing how to respond.

"i...i don't know jj but, just trust alania. trust that she knows what she's doing," hotch gulped nervously, only praying that his not-so full proof statement was correct

unable to know how he'd react if one of his beloved agents didn't make it out of this dangeorus situation alive. let alone if she was safe, especially after he promised that he would keep her safe.

however, hotch couldn't have been more wrong in his hope for alaia to come out of this torture alive. making him wish he never said anything and just kept his mouth shut. making him feel like it was his fault.

what happened next came so quickly it was like everyone blinked before they heard a gunshot ring through the warehouse. spencer's heartwrenching screams from his gut following shortly after as he helplessly tried to free himself from his restraints and shoot peter.

from the time it took the rest of the team to finally locate the banged up industrial warehouse that peter was commiting his murders in, it felt like time had slowed down. it literally felt as though spencer had only blinked before one more shot rang out. morgan and prentiss had rushed in within seconds, morgan delivering the shot that shattered peter's leg, slowing the aging man so the arrest would be easier.

prentiss quickly rushing over to spencer to untie him from the restraints. however the only thing that accomplished was spencer collapsing to his knees as more sobs and screams left his mouth. morgan quickly discovering that alaia's pulse was gone and she was deceased. peter had been killing his victims with the singular gunshot wound, not the torture equipment. doing the very same thing to his niece, not wanting to stray away from his m.o at all. panicking after hearing morgan and prentiss storm the building, not wanting to be caught with his final victim still alive.

biting his lip, morgan turned to spencer, "...she...alaia's dead, reid..." he whispered out, the older agent becoming numb as he watched his best friend weep over the loss of his girlfriend

reinforcements, including the other members of the bau, excluding penelope, and the coroner had been called to the scene. david rossi and aaron hotchner rushed over to spencer, trying to convince him to stand up off the floor. and get him to the safety of an awaiting ambulance to patch up the lesions on his wrists and ankles and the dried blood on his forehead from the mild concussion. usually, in a situation like this, spencer would be fighting tooth and nail to stay with his girlfriend. however, this time, he was way too weak to even scream anymore, let alone fight against his chief in command and most senior agent as they carefully helped the grief-stricken boy walk out of the warehouse and to the ambulance.

whilst rossi and hotch coerced the broken spencer out of the warehouse, prentiss, jj and morgan had the awful task of having to shut down each individual piece of torture equipment. having to wait a couple minutes for each of them so they wouldn't blow themselves and the entire rusting building up. after they were sure that everything was turned off and no longer a danger, it was time jj and emily could release their best friend and fellow agent alaia saint angelis from the ceiling restrains. unable to completely ignore the large gunshot wound that was right in the middle of her chest.

it was obvious however that even together, emily and jj were not physically strong enough to get alaia down from the ceiling on their own. so, they asked morgan for help as he grabbed her carefully and carried the girl to the medical examiner, placing her body into a body bag as she would then be transported to the coroner's office for an official autopsy.

the task after that was to then make sure all of the injuries and causes of death are checked out, matching her sustained injuries. and this meant that spencer with emily was assigned the job of visiting the coroner's office, making sure alaia's autopsy was done correctly and could be used as evidence against her uncle. the psychotic man that had finally, after thirty years, been caught.

"...what was the official cause of death, doctor?" emily asks, the silence unbearable as spencer tried to hold himself together

it was hard for him no matter what. the tears burning the back of his eyes as emily kept a close eye on him. it was as though spencer was stuck in time, unable to say or process anything.

"traumatic brain injury due to insistent trauma and blood loss from the gunshot wound to her stomach. the brain injury started the moment she got the first knock to the head and then the second one only made it worse. the ongoing trauma after the knock to the head only worsened the trauma which caused internal bleeding along with external bleeding from the back and front of her head as well as her stomach after the gunshot. she didn't feel anything because her body was in survivor mode and overcompensating with the adrenaline that would have been pumping through her veins as she compartmentalised her pain and chose to prioritise her strength," the medical examiner, a 5'3 asian female spoke softly but professionally, emily nodding her head whilst spencer looked as if he was watching ghosts

"thank you, doc. would...could you excuse us, please?" emily was soft in her question as the examiner nodded her head, not hesitating for a moment to give the two fbi agents time alone

"of course," the examiner spoke softly and escorted herself out of the room

"thank you," emily spoke quietly, the examiner now out of the room, the door closing quietly behind her

this leaving only emily, spencer and the deceased body of bau agent alaia saint angelis that rested on the cold metal slab. her body covered with a white sheet that was covered with bloody splotches on her head and stomach.

grabbing a soft hold on spencer's hand, emily knew it was now time to focus on bringing some comfort to her devastated best friend.

"did you hear any of that?" emily's voice soft but heartbroken and strength as a shaky breath left spencer's mouth his hands stuffed into the jacket he'd been wearing since getting his once over from the medics

"she wasn't in any pain, spence," emily knew telling spencer that his girlfriend didn't feel a thing as she died wasn't at all going to bring the boy genius any comfort but, she knew she had to repeat it to him

silence was what emily got in return from spencer other than the single tear from the corner of his eye. more tears came after that first one as spencer slowly crumbled in front of emily, the tissue in his hand only able to wipe away so many tears. emily swallowing the inconsable spencer into her arms as he sobbed into her shoulder.

his crumpled-up tissue covering his face as he tried to conceal the noise his sobs were making. this was not what emily had invisioned happening when hotch gave the case debrief to his team, warning them that this time, the case was personal due to the fact the unsub was related to one of their own. the most painful thing being that alaia through herself head first into the case knowing she wouldn't make it out alive, not even promising it to anyone knowing it would broken anyway.

now she wasn't alive to see her uncle get his just desert in court or rot away in prision. the only one able to testify a witness statement other than a small group of survivors of peter's being spencer himself. peter's last one and the most powerful one dead.

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derek morgan

derek's grief over alaia's death was unusual for him. in a way he had never felt before. this pain he felt hurt in a different way that wasn't what he was used to. and it hurt more than he'd like to admit it hurt him. because that's the type of person derek was. he wasn't the biggest fan of showing his vulnerability so, as he grieved over the loss of his best friend, ssa alaia saint angelis, he tried his absolute hardest to hide it like he always did.

however, this time, it was different and, he wasn't able to be as discreet about his grief as he usually was. there were times that he would have trouble just looking at certain nooks and crannies around the bau building because so much of that building was alaia and was too reminiscent of her. however, unlike the other team members, derek only openly cried thrice over the death of alaia. the first time was at the funeral, of which he, himself was physically and consciously aware of his tearful reaction.

the second time was during a small memorial that the entire bau building had hosted for the young agent and this was a moment that derek wasn't consciously aware of his tears. not until a tissue from penelope was offered to him did he realise he was even crying. the third and final time derek cried over alaia's death was during the court date of her uncle peter saint angelis. this was the worst of the three times that derek had cried. he would have thought hearing spencer, three of dozens of peter's victims, alaia's older and younger brothers and aaron hotchner say their witness statements wouldn't have affected him in any certain way but, they did.

whilst the statements from three of peter's dozens of victims, hotch and brothers of alaia's was heartbreaking, it wasn't until spencer's statement which had the detailed way that peter murdered alaia through his own sobs that had derek also crying.

hearing spencer weep as he spoke of the way peter teased and tortured his own blood relative, his brother's own daughter was enough to bring derek to tears. tears that had been held away for years. however, a month or two after, derek's life was beginning to continue somewhat normally. for he was no longer teary eyed when he looked at alaia's empty desk, now a memorial for her, a spot which would never be used for any new agent that would step foot into the bau.

jennifer jareau (jj)

similar to derek, jj's grief over alaia's death was strange. everyone's grief is strange since it's not normal when really thought about. however, in jj's case, she straight up denied her grief over alaia's death. and this ended up causing so much in-team fighting and aruging that jj was suspended for a week. the complete opposite of deek who did come forward to say he was struggling, jj refusing to say she was struggling.

she had tried so hard to push her grief aside so she could console and nuture everyone else around her, spencer her number one priority until he wasn't. after jj's suspension, hotch had told emily to be the one to watch over spencer meaning he no longer needed jj.

and this caused more arguing because jj took offence that spencer no longer needed her but needed emily. this was when everyone in the team along with her own husband and sons noticed that jj was struggling and still refusing to open up and say that she wasn't as okay as she made herself out to be.

when jj did take care of everyone and spencer, she'd either be spending time at the bau outside of working hours, just calmly sitting with her legs crossed in front of alaia's desk. the photos and bits and bobs staring back at her, where jj knew she'd be alone and unable to get caught. before emily took over her role, she'd be locked up in spencer and alaia's house, trying her hardest to comfort an inconsolable spencer. hugging him as tightly as she could muster as he sobbed rivers upon rivers, grief, despair and anguish over the loss of his girlfriend.

until she couldn't any longer, she'd be the one to hold the tissue box for everyone if they needed it, she'd be the one to provide and initiate the hugs. she'd be the one (alongside spencer and then later emily) to check up on alaia's family, her siblings most especially, and she would be the one that drowns herself in everyone's paperwork because those were all distractions.

these things were all distractions to stop jj from wallowing in her own grief that she was still so stubborn about admitting to everyone, but most especially to herself. however, it wasn't until her regular check-in call with her husband, will, that she finally admitted to him and herself that she really wasn't okay even after trying to initially deny it once again. as soon as that phone call to her husband was over and jj found herself unable to stop crying, that was when everyone turned in support for jj. showering her with the same love and comfort that she showered them in. emily telling jj that she could now grieve as emily took over all of jj's old jobs of taking care of spencer and alaia's family until jj was able to stomach it all again.

emily prentiss

emily was one that struggled with the loss of alaia in a major way. the thing that hurt emily the most about the loss of alaia was that the older girl still had so much more things left that she wanted to say to the young thirty-year-old that, she could no longer tell them to her. it broke emily's heart into pieces knowing that the only thing she had left of the young girl who she saw as her sister were the photos, videos, text messages and voicemails they shared together.

it was in times like this, times of immense grief, that emily just wished she had an eidetic memory like spencer. she'd only wished that so she could remember every single thing, small, medium and big about alaia. all she wanted was just to remember the reason that she made alaia smile or laugh on the fifth day of the sixth month one year ago. and it was all because emily's biggest fear was forgetting everything about alaia, the young agent that just wanted to fix the wrongs of her family and stop other families going through the same as she did.

whilst it was known how well emily could hold back and supress her emotions, doing it well especially when she forced jj to step back and took her place, consoling spencer and alaia's family. when it came to the loss and grieving process of alaia, it seemed like everything about her best friend for a while made the raven haired girl teary-eyed. one of the many things that would consume emily's time and grief was when she wasn't visiting spencer or the rest of alaia's family, was to watch back those videos. read back those text messages and listen to those voicemails left behind by alaia.

when emily was looking through her phone to find her favourite voice message alaia left her, she hadn't noticed that on the day emily ran away due to ian doyle, alaia had called her, leaving a voice message. before this voice message, emily had only listened and known about penelope's voice message when she ran away after ian doyle. and seeing this voice message was just enough to tear open emily's heart and make her cry. however, it wasn't until her shaky fingers pressed the play button to listen to the voicemail. hearing her best friend's voice again was really what made the older agent cry more.

"em, it's me alaia. i know hotch asked penelope to go through all of your old numbers and listings but i don't think either of them remembers that i've got both of these phone numbers. but, like penelope already told you, if you've even listened to that voice message, please come home..."

"...i know what it's like to always have to watch over your shoulder and having to go back and forth from different identities so you can't be traced. but, jesus christ emily, what have you done? why did you think this was a smart thing to do? i was so pissed off at you, and i'm sure you got a whole lot of angry penelope as well but then, through remembering how scared i was and penelope reminding me, i remember just how scared you must be. having to constantly be on the run and in the dark and all alone...but, like penelope said, you're not alone. you've never been alone in this! we are trying so hard to find you, we are sending you signals and calling out your name. so...please...emily, even if you can't see us and only hear us, please find your way home. if you can't find us, we'll find you and please, just stay alive because just like penelope and everyone else has told you, we are coming and we're going to find you and bring you back home!"

emily thought she had heard all of the voice messages, tears welling in her eyes as she remembered penelope's voice message from when she had run away. she was about to turn her phone off until she noticed the most recent voice message from alaia. she hadn't realised that alaia had rung her the morning before they left for that downtown virginia case that killed her.

"...hi emily, it's me again. i know you never pick up calls or messages from this phone number but, i thought i'd just try again because i know you still have this phone with you. so, i just wanted to tell you that i already have a feeling that i'm not going to come out of this case alive. my uncle isn't someone who just gives up or stops when he's told to. that's why he's been going on for so long, for 30 whole years. even though i know that i'm going to die during this case, i want you to know that i don't regret it. i don't regret dying on duty if it means making sure my uncle never has the chance of being released and having the opportunity to hurt anyone else..."

"...em if...if i don't make it out of this alive, please don't grieve and cry over me for too long. otherwise i'll feel as though i died for nothing and that just makes me feel scared that when my uncle does murder me, that you guys won't be able to recover from it. and i don't want you guys to let that take over your guys' lives. i want you guys to continue with the bau, i don't want you guys to give up just because i'm gone. i never thought i'd be able to find a family that was loving and kind and supportive. but, as soon as i joined the bau with spencer, i did...i love you guys all so much, being part of the bau for the last 10 years has brought me some of the happiest memories even with all the horror and trauma we see everyday. if i could repeat this all and go back in time to the beginning, i would do it all over again if it meant i could spend more time with you guys..."

"...i just love you all so much and promise me you'll never stop smiling cause i'll notice and it'll be hell for you...oh and please, reconsider your resignation. i don't want you to leave, especially if it's because of my death. this team will need you more than ever after i die if i do die today. and, i also wouldn't wish for you to resign so early in your career when you've still got so much power and love for this job left in you. okay, umm, i got to go, i'm getting strange looks from spencer...oh, spencer...this is going to kill him knowing that he couldn't save me in time..."

"...please, em, take care of him cause this will destroy him more than anything ever has. i promised him that nothing bad would happen to me and just like everyone else in his life, i broke my promise. however, do let him be happy again, make sure he falls in love again because he deserves to fall in love, be happy, get married and have kids. spencer deserves all the happiness in the world and i know he felt his happiest when we were together and, i've always felt the same way. but, i seriously doubt i'll be making it out alive today and, i'm okay with that because i know i wouldn't have felt anything and i died happy knowing that this man is no longer going to reign anymore of his terror and he'll be locked away for life. but, anyway, i really have to go now but, i love you emily, i love all of you guys so much and, i can say with full confidence and my whole entire soul and heart that it has been a real pleasure to be apart of this family. goodbye emily..."

this voicemail broke emily's heart as well as everyone elses. emily playing this voice message to the rest of the team as it ended up bringing a lot of comfort to them. however, the biggest promise that emily kept was revoking her resignation from the bau, deciding to stay with them. not only because it was her best friend's final wish but because emily knew that alaia knew that the resignation wasn't actually going to ever happen, hence why alaia mentioned it.

dr spencer reid

from the very beginning, it was quite obvious that spencer would be the most affected by alaia's murder. spencer's grief started the moment alaia sacrificed herself to save his life and spencer was scared and already begun to grief in anticipation. he knew from the beginning that he wouldn't be able to save her and neither could the rest of the team. too slow in finding the warehouse in time to save them both and that devasted spencer the most, that as his main reason for the heightened grief and devastation.

spencer was swallowed up in grief for days that spanned over weeks and then months. over those months, he had cried tears that could have also been tears shed due to all of the other past traumas he had kept inside and pushed down, only resurfacing because of the death of the girl he loved more than anyone else. whilst he appreciated the comfort that jj, emily and the rest of the team provided him with, nothing they were doing was going to bring alaia home.

no one else's shoulder brought spencer the same amount of comfort that his girlfriend's warmth and light gave him. spencer lost count of how much he had cried, just knew that he was crying a lot and it was exhausting for him. he never liked crying but he also knew that it was what he needed so he let himself to just cry until he could cry no more. the hardest part about alaia's death wasn't the fact that he wept his way through the entire funeral, barely able to stay on his own two feet without collapsing whilst saying the eulogy.

it was the court date for peter saint angelis' trail where spencer, amongst others from alaia's family, aaron hotchner and some of peter's survivors, took to the witness stand and testified against the serial killer. proving evidence and taking down the serial killer's defense, making sure that this serial killer wouldn't be able to see another slither of daylight ever again. spencer remembering just how awful that day was. he had never been so helpless, vulnerable and empty in this entire life until that moment. that day he had to tell not just the court judge but the entire court from beginning to end of alaia's torture and murder since he, other than peter himself, was the only other witness to the serial murder who was able to testify against the man.

emily and jj also attempted to be allowed to testify but unable to since they already had aaron hotchner as well as spencer. and also because they didn't actually witness peter murdering his niece like spencer had. spencer wept as he attempted to get through his witness testimony, trying his best to calm himself down to a state where his speech could be understood clearly. and he did, it all of a sudden became unbearable for the judge and jury to hear the horror that had happened to the young fbi agent without feeling sick or bursting out into their own tears.

by the time peter saint angelis' trail had finished and he was finally found guilty, after one hour of deliberation and a life sentence with a possibility of death row, it felt like all the tears spencer cried weren't for nothing. finally, after 30 years of alaia and her family being haunted by peter's reign of terror, it was now over. peter would no longer have the power to torture and kill anyone else.

the one positive of alaia's death for spencer was the fact that her family and all the other families of peter's deceased and surviving victims were also finally given justice. these families and survivors receiving peace and closure on what happened to their loved ones that never had the chance to come home like alaia wasn't allowed to.

fin

rewriting for criminal minds on tumblr on its very own tumblr page is something i'm so excited about! because yes, i have deleted every other post on my formula 1 tumblr that isn't formula 1 written. i may also write fics for the actors as well as the characters but that may come a little later on but do be on the lookout!

©⠀amberscriminalmind's original work. do not translate or steal any of my fics. 2025

[m3loria]

 . ﹙ . . . ✦ ﹚ how could i not love eyes that see me in all forms of my beautiful? ── member 009

ぅ( FILE ONE ) ## BASIC INFORMATION

 ̟ ˖ ⁺ birth name : kang yaejoon. ( 강예준 )  ̟ ˖ ⁺ preferred name : yaejoon. ( 예준 )  ̟ ˖ ⁺ name meaning : yaejoon. ( of korean origin, "ㅒ" meaning "yesterday", "준" meaning "talented, handsome". )

 ̟ ˖ ⁺ nicknames : yaes, joon, joonie ( everyone. ) z-z, yaez, final letter, what's the stage name? ( his fans , meliora ). the strange guy, resident weirdo, the weird tall guy from meliora, lab experiment, mr who the hell let him in ( his fans , netizens , meliora ). mr unpredictable, never let them know your next move, an uncertain individual, what will z do now? ( his fans , meliora ).

 ̟ ˖ ⁺ date of birth : june 5, 2002.  ̟ ˖ ⁺ legal age : 22 years old.  ̟ ˖ ⁺ zodiac sign : gemini.  ̟ ˖ ⁺ lunar zodiac sign : horse.

 ̟ ˖ ⁺ place of birth : gangseo-gu, seoul, south korea.  ̟ ˖ ⁺ hometown : gangseo-gu, seoul, south korea.  ̟ ˖ ⁺ nationality : south korean.  ̟ ˖ ⁺ ethnicity : korean.  ̟ ˖ ⁺ residences : gangseo-gu, seoul, south korea. ( 2002 —— 2018 ). gangnam-gu, seoul, south korea. ( 2018 —— present ).

 ̟ ˖ ⁺ spoken languages : korean ( 100% , gyeonggi dialect ). japanese ( 60% , tokyo dialect ). cantonese ( 58% , standard cantonese ).

 ̟ ˖ ⁺ gender identity : cisgender male.  ̟ ˖ ⁺ pronouns : he / him.  ̟ ˖ ⁺ romantic orientation : biromantic.  ̟ ˖ ⁺ sexual orientation : bisexual.  ̟ ˖ ⁺ relationship status : taken.

 ̟ ˖ ⁺ height : 187 cm ( 6'1" ).  ̟ ˖ ⁺ weight : undisclosed.  ̟ ˖ ⁺ blood type : a-.

 ̟ ˖ ⁺ natural eye color : dark brown.  ̟ ˖ ⁺ natural hair color : brown.  ̟ ˖ ⁺ current hair color : brown.

 ̟ ˖ ⁺ body modifications : 2 piercings ( left ear ). 2 piercings ( right ear ). 1 tattoo.

 ̟ ˖ ⁺ face claim : jung sungchan (riize).  ̟ ˖ ⁺ speaking claim : jung sungchan (riize).  ̟ ˖ ⁺ vocal claim : jung sungchan (riize).  ̟ ˖ ⁺ dance claim : osaki shotaro (riize).  ̟ ˖ ⁺ rap claim : jung sungchan (riize).

ぅ( FILE TWO ) ## CAREER INFORMATION

 ̟ ˖ ⁺ stage name : z. ( 지 )  ̟ ˖ ⁺ explanation : he chose it last minute because.. he thought it had a nice ring to it. every other letter in the alphabet is boring, his words not mine.

 ̟ ˖ ⁺ current agencies : louvix audio (2019 —— present). sonata media (2020 —— present).  ̟ ˖ ⁺ former agencies : pledis entertainment (2015 —— 2019).  ̟ ˖ ⁺ training period : 5 years.  ̟ ˖ ⁺ years active : 2020 —— present.  ̟ ˖ ⁺ occupation : rapper. dancer. songwriter. kpop idol.

 ̟ ˖ ⁺ group : meliora (2020 —— present).  ̟ ˖ ⁺ debut date : may 1, 2020.  ̟ ˖ ⁺ debut age : 17 years old.  ̟ ˖ ⁺ positions : main dancer, main rapper.

 ̟ ˖ ⁺ representative color : maroon ( #800000 )  ̟ ˖ ⁺ representative emoji : 🔆  ̟ ˖ ⁺ individual fandom name : sugar cones ( from his love of waffle cones, he simply has an obsession )

 ̟ ˖ ⁺ instagram : yaezkang ( personal , 1173 posts , 980k followers , 0 following )

 ̟ ˖ ⁺ known for : joining meliora for fifty dollars. being the lazy genius of the group. being the groups resident weirdo. personifying the phrase "never let them know your next move". terrifying the members because of how unpredictable he is. being the evil final boss. his sugar cone obsession. owning every kara album. his tendency to forget.. everything. always holding kiro's hand at the airport. his "failed lab experiment" vibes. his questionable humor. always making the members laugh. chewing ice. zoning out and blinking like a cat. never shutting up about french fries.

ぅ( FILE THREE ) ## PERSONAL INFORMATION

 ̟ ˖ ⁺ analyzing the mbti : entp // debater. is someone with the extraverted, intuitive, thinking, and prospecting personality traits. they tend to be bold and creative, deconstructing and rebuilding ideas with great mental agility. they pursue their goals vigorously despite any resistance they might encounter.

 ̟ ˖ ⁺ strengths : knowledgeable, original, quick thinkers, excellent brainstormers, charismatic, energetic.  ̟ ˖ ⁺ weaknesses : very argumentative, insensitive, intolerant, unfocused, dislike practical matters, arrogant.

 ̟ ˖ ⁺ family : father. mother. younger brother.  ̟ ˖ ⁺ family dynamics : yaejoon's family is a close knit unit that, though they have their issues, all love each other very much.  ̟ ˖ ⁺ household history : yaejoon was born the eldest of two children in mid–2002 to two high school graduates, because of the way he was born, his dad and mom didn't live with each other for the first few years of his life. he lived with his mother in her tiny one bedroom apartment whilst his father worked. his mom didn't go to college, she stayed home and took care of him while his dad worked odd jobs day in and day out to provide for them. even though they grew up barely above the poverty line, he was happy, happy to have a roof over his head and food on his table to eat. he was a happy kid, even if his parents weren't exactly happy. he kept them happy himself, his gleeful smiles and contagious giggles gave them all the happiness he needed. his parents would then have a switch, his mom would go to university and his dad would take care of him at home throughout his middle school years, it was only when he began high school that they finally got married, and he was the best man at their wedding. his younger brother, eunwoo was born in 2019.

 ̟ ˖ ⁺ father : kang myungtae, born february 20 1984 in namwon-si, north jeolla, south korea, resides in gangnam-gu, seoul, south korea, employed as a firefighter, father of 2.  ̟ ˖ ⁺ mother : min harin, born march 29 1984 in gangseo-gu, seoul, south korea, resides in gangseo-gu, seoul, south korea, employed as a nursing assistant, mother of 2.  ̟ ˖ ⁺ younger brother : kang eunwoo, born november 7 2019 in gangseo-gu, seoul, south korea, resides in gangseo-gu, seoul, south korea.

ぅ( FILE FOUR ) ## TRIVIAL INFORMATION

 ̟ ˖ ⁺ habits & mannerisms : unconsciously slouching, biting his lips without even noticing, sleeping on his hands, putting a hand through his hair, scratching his head, randomly shouting in the middle of a silent room, tilting his head side to side to freak people out, zoning out on the wall for up to hours, blinking slowly, constantly rearranging his clothes.

 ̟ ˖ ⁺ hobbies and skills : dancing, rapping, being off putting, napping, being lazy, collecting kara albums, learning new languages, playing the guitar, randomly breaking into song, creating specifically aestheticized playlists, saving every ridiculous photo he finds, creating shirts with crazy catchphrases, ice hockey.

 ̟ ˖ ⁺ likes : weirding out people, waffle cones, sugar, sweets, ice lollies, ridiculous t-shirts, taking pictures of his friends, ice hockey, hockey jerseys, first-person shooter games, action games, money, cats, cryptids, mixing aesthetics, samurai jack, laziness, napping, the letter z, kara, letterman jackets, escape rooms, haunted houses, horror games, survival games, big brother, biology.  ̟ ˖ ⁺ dislikes : black coffee, being serious, heat, sporting events, happy endings, horror movies, mathematics, being called "z" offstage or off camera, procrastinating, being forced to talk, netizens, mint flavored things, hospitals, vomiting, byeol antis.

 ̟ ˖ ⁺ phobias : noscomephobia ( fear of hospitals )”

 ̟ ˖ ⁺ favorite colors : maroon, black.  ̟ ˖ ⁺ favorite seasons : autumn.  ̟ ˖ ⁺ favorite animals : sugar gliders, mako sharks.  ̟ ˖ ⁺ favorite numbers : 17, 605.

 ̟ ˖ ⁺ personal playlist : do me, lee hyori. talk talk, charli xcx. ah yeah, exid. take a bow, kara. my darling, kara. obsessions, marina and the diamond. crime and punishment, ringo sheena. red velvet, outkast. my skin my logo, solange. count me out, kendrick lamar. mr. boogie, f(x).

 ̟ ˖ ⁺ close friends : kang minhee, cravity. lee soojin, kim jimin, park soeun, weeekly. lily jin morrow, oh haewon, nmixx. yang jeongin, stray kids. kwak dawit, epex.

ぅ( FILE FIVE ) ## FACTUAL INFORMATION

001 ▬▬ if you'll believe me, yaejoon quite literally joined meliora for fifty dollars. he had just left pledis when he first saw the posters for auditions and his friend said: "i bet you fifty bucks you won't make it into the group", and he took it up because it was a worthy challenge.

002 ▬▬ he used to play hockey back when he was in middle school. he was the captain of his team so his teammates would refer to him as "captain kang".

003 ▬▬ if you look past the strangeness, he's actually pretty intelligent. he excelled in all subjects which included mathematics (his worst enemy), science, and organic chemistry. he's pretty academically decorated for an ice chewer. he recently got his biomedical engineering degree from hongik university.

004 ▬▬ he's the member who snores the loudest, he snores so loud that his fellow roommates on the first floor (chaiya + yohan + hajoon) keep headphones on deck for when he finally dozes off.

005 ▬▬ he has a terrible sleep schedule, but he never misses the opportunity to nap throughout the day. he can fall asleep literally anywhere as long as he has his favorite crochet blanket made by byeol.

006 ▬▬ he is a lover of ugly shirts with stupid catchphrases. if he wasn't under any company obligations, he would happily go around wearing his gay garfield shirt all day.

007 ▬▬ yaejoon is naturally a very forgetful person. he can forget literally anything no matter how important it may be. the members often have to grill him so many times to make sure he doesn't forget anything before they go out, whether it be his phone, jewelry, passport, or even his wallet. it's always kiro reminding him of what he's forgotten.

008 ▬▬ he is a huge fan of girl group kara, and he got into them because his mother is into them. his bias is nicole, and he has literally all of their albums. he got to meet them in 2022.

009 ▬▬ the members are somewhat terrified of him because they never know what to expect from him. they all know he's a jokester but they all also know that they really have no idea what he's capable of. he swears he's harmless.. really, he is!

010 ▬▬ he has each of his members saved as animals that he sees them as. chaiya is a fox, yohan is a rabbit, junmin is a tiger, hajoon is a dog, kyuhyun is a panda, hwan is a bee, haneul is a bear, kiro is a hamster, byeol is a chick, chrysa is an owl, jian is a cat, and taro is a mouse.

[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).

[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]