#(hind sight is great) | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

beebopboom · 7 months

Text

The Nice and Accurate Prophecies of Agnes Nutter

Yep! That’s right we are diving back into season 1, specifically with the last true witch, Agnes Nutter

This first part is mainly going to deal with what is in her book and is largely just a reference point. This will cover all the prophecies we know about and the images included in her book that I could find

Further analysis and theories will start in part two

-> which you can click here to read if you’d like

But other than that let’s just dive in

Prophecies

Most of these we know and we see play out but there are a few stragglers- (which I’m not going to go into in this series just for the sole reason my very ill brain cannot handle them right now, maybe in the future)

Prophecy 1111: "An the Great Hound Sharl come and the Two Powers sharl watch in... Goeth where is its Master, Where the... Notte, and he shall name it, True to... and Hell shall flee it."

Prophecy 2214: "In December 1980, an Apple will arise no man can eat. Invest thy money in Master Jobbes's machine, and good fortune will tend thy days."

Prophecy 2213: "I tell ye this, and I charge ye with my wordes. Four shall ride, and three shall ride the sky as two, and one shall ride in flames, and there shall be no stopping them. Not fish, nor rain, neither devil or angel. And ye shall be there also, Anathema."

Prophecy 2315: "Sum say It cometh in London Town, or New Yorke, butte they be Wronge, for the place is Taddes Fild, Stronge inne hys powr, he cometh like a knight innne the fief, he divideth the Worlde into 4 partes, he bringeth the storme.

Prophecy 3001: "Behind the Eagle's Neste, a great Ash hath fallen.

Prophecy 3007: "Prayers and hope ... / Brings forth sorrow and serpents reign / For the devil lucks in plain sight / Under an arc of pale moonlight."

Prophecy 3008: "When that the angel readeth these words of mine, in his shoppe of other menne's books, then the final days are certes upon us. Open thine eyes to understand. Open thine eyes and rede, I do say, foolish principalitee, for thy cocoa doth grow cold."

Prophecy 3009: "Seven who hold the Scepter shall be killed...of them shall become a saint."

Prophecy 3011: "The exer... and churches be laid open to ... oppressed shall prevail, and oppose the cruelty of foreigners. For a Boar of Cornwall shall give his assistance, and trample their necks under his feet."

Prophecy 3012: "A shower of blood shall rain, and a raging famine shall afflict mankind. When these things happen, the Red Dragon shall grieve, but when his fatigue is over he shall recover his strength. Then shall misfortunes hasten upon the White Dragon, and the buildings of his gardens be pulled down."

Prophecy 3017: "I see Four Riding, bringing the Ende and the Angells of Hell ride with them, And three shall Rise. And Four and Four Together be Four and the Dark Angel sharl Own Defeat, Yette the Manne sharl claim his Own."

Prophecy 3477: Lette the wheel of Fate turne, let harts en-join, there are othere fyres than mine; when the wynd blowethe the blos-soms, reach oute one to anothere, for the calm cometh when Redde and Whyte and Blacke and Pale approche to Peas is Our Professioune.

Prophecy 3817: "The Number of the Beast is in the Revelayting of Sainte John, call hym in Taddesfield. And ye will know hym by this sign, that when ye do call hym, the Lesser Beaste will walk upon his hind legs like unto a Dancing Bear."

Prophecy 3819: "When Orient's chariot inverted be, four wheles in the skye, a man with bruises be upon Youre Bedde, aching his hedd for willow fine, a manne who testeth with a pyn yette his hart be.

Prophecy 3988: "Whene menne of crocus come frome the Earth and green manne frome the Sky, yette ken not why, and Pluto's barres quitte the Light-ning castels, and sunken lands riseth, and Levia-than runneth free, and Brazil is vert, then Three cometh together and Four arise, upon iron horses ride; I tell you the ende draweth nigh."

Prophecy 3989: "He is not what he says he is."

Prophecy 4009: "Where the Hogg's back ends the young beast will take the world and Adam's line will end in fire and darkness."

Prophecy 4019: "When Orient's Chariot Inverted be a man with bruises up thy bed, aching his head for willow fine."

Prophecy 4020: "Let the wheel of fate turne, let harts enjoin, there are othere fyres than mine; when the whirl wynd whirls, reach oute one to another."

Prophecy 5001: "When the skies are crimson seen, then ye both must stand between the world of life and the world of war, where the iron bird lands no more."

Prophecy 5004: "When alle is sayed and all is done, ye must choose your faces wisely, for soon enouff, ye will be playing with fyre."

and that’s all of them I believe so let’s hop into the images I could find

Artworks

Starting out on the very first page we have this

Now I could not find an exact reference to this (I know starting out strong just stay with me) but between the examples I could find plus the four wings surrounding the head I would say this is depicting a Cherubim

This next one is from the actual book itself,

This is the piece, Saint John Devouring the Book by Albrecht Dürer (1498) which was published alongside 15 other woodcut illustrations in his book, Apocalypse, all covering events in Revelations

Now we are moving into pieces that we see in the little montage moments so the images are a little less clear

This piece, Saint Michael Slaying the Dragon, is by Martin Schongauger done sometime between 1480-1490

The next piece was actually a two for one which made my job a little easier and let this post only be one part *curse you image limit*

Chariot Vision, which is by Matthäus Merian depicting Ezekiel’s vision in Ezekiel 1:5 (I couldn’t find when it was made -and now that I’m really looking at it the wheels are a little different but I’m confident enough to say it’s from the same story so the point will still stands)

and finally we have this one

With help from @gallup24 and some image manipulation finally found this piece, The Minde bould hare a fixed Eye On Objects, that are plac’d on High.

I believe to be published first along side other emblems by Gabrielis Rollenhagii in 1613 it was reprinted in 1635 with added hymns by George Wither in his emblem book

the hymn reads

A Heart, which bore the figure of an Eye

Wide open to the Sunne; by fome, was us’d,

When in an Emblem, they would fignifie

A Minde, which on Celeftiall Matters mus’d :

Implying, by this fame, that there is nought

Which in this lower Orbe, our Eyes can fee,

So fit an Object for manly thought,

As thofe things, which in Heav’n above us be.

God, gave Mankinde (above all other Creatures)

A lovely Forme, and upward-looking Eye,

(Among the reft of his peculiar Featares)

That he might lift his Countenance on high:

And (having view'd the Beauty, which appeares

Within the outward Sights circumference)

That he might elevate above the Sphares,

The piercing Eye, of his tatelligence,

Then, higher, and fill higher ftrive to raife

His Contemplations Eyes, till they alcend

To gaine a glimple of thofe eternall Rayes,

To which all undepraved Spirits rend.

For, 'tis the proper nature of the Minde

(Till fehly Thoughts corrupt it) to delpile

Thole Lufts whereto the Rody ftands inclin'd ;

And labour alwayes, upmard to arife.

Some, theretore, thought thofe Goblins which appeare

To haunt old Graves and Tombes, are Soules of fuch,

Who to thefe loathfome places doomed were,

Becaule, they doted on the Fleh too much.

But, ture weare, well-minded Men thall god

To live above, when others bide below.

(also if you want a really good breakdown of the publishers of, The Nice and Accurate Prophecies of Agnes Nutter, check out the one @i-only-ever-asked-questions posted one here)

————————————————————————

so yeah that’s all I could find and like I said this is mainly just a reference post

and yes I am aware that one very obvious piece is missing that seems to be made just for this book. I ran out of images so i’ll post it in a rb

#good omens #good omens 2 #good omens meta #agnes nutter #the nice and accurate prophecies of agnes nutter

86 notes · View notes

mamaskillerqueen · 2 years

Text

Panic || Jake Seresin x Reader

Warnings: So, the title kind of gives this away but it does describe a panic attack as I have personally experienced them. Aside from that, it’s super fluffy. I hope you like it!

The Hard Deck was teeming with men and women in uniform, more so than usual. Normally, you wouldn’t have noticed this fact but anxiety had been prickling just below the surface of your skin all week. There didn’t seem to be any particular reason as to why, and it’s been easy to stave off for the most part. Being swarmed by so many people in such a seemingly tight space had it bubbling again though.

Your civilian work friends had been super insistent on getting a few drinks at the bar after a particularly long day in the office. You swore that every time you looked back at the clock over an hour had gone by and that the minute hands were definitely lying to you. It was a Friday and no one needed to turn up early so it seemed like the most perfect night to have some team bonding anyways.

In hind sight, with the bubbling anxiety you’d been tampering down all week, maybe perfect night for bonding wasn’t quite accurate.

Everyone had agreed to buy a round for the table, a way of saying thanks and showing just how appreciative you all were of the things each one of you did through the week. Somehow you had managed to land yourself amongst one of the best sets of coworkers anyone could ask for. Not a single one of you didn’t gel with the others, you all meshed and complimented each other’s strengths in the work place. It helped you all got along outside of work as well.

Coworkers turned great friends did not mean, however, that you were comfortable sharing your anxiety struggles yet. So, as your turn to buy the round came up, you steeled yourself and elbowed your way to the very crowded bar. Having once upon a time ago been the one on the other side of the bar you waited patiently to place your order. You couldn’t pull your eyes from the very graceful and strong woman flying through orders like she’d been born specifically for this job. If you had pulled your eyes away, your certain panic would have settled into your bones from the claustrophobia of it all.

With your focus entirely on the bartender you hadn’t noticed the man dressed in jeans and work boots take up residence beside you. Nor had you caught the very intent look he was giving you. It wasn’t until he was fully crowding your space, so close you could smell the stale beer on his breath that you’d noticed he was there. It was a nauseating smell being mixed with his lingering sweaty body odour. You hoped he was so close because of the crowd but when you finally tore your eyes away from the bartender you realised that wasn’t the case.

The crowd you had to force your way through had thinned out as they had gotten their drinks and moved back to their normal haunts. There was no reason for this man to be so close, and the bubbling anxiety was quickly pushing in on panic. You forced yourself to offer a polite smile and nod before trying to turn your attention back to the bartender. She was very near through with her crowd on the other side, surely going to be making her way to you soon.

Just not soon enough. Before she could get to you, the smelly man had his hands on you. He was slurring his words in such a jumble that you couldn’t possibly attempt to understand them if you wanted to. And you didn’t want to. You swiped your hands between the two of you, trying to push his arms from around your waist. Blood was rushing in your ears, the sounds of the loud bar being muffled by your heart beat. Just as soon as you broke contact with the man, he was grabbing you again and pulling you flush against him. You couldn’t breathe.

Everything was happening in slow motion for you. Desperate attempts to break free eventually worked and your post at the bar to order a round was forgotten as you shoved your way towards the back patio doors. You pushed passed some men in uniform without every really seeing them. Tunnel vision had taken over, your sights set on the door and the ocean beyond. All your brain could chant was that it needed air. Had you actually taken any breaths in the last five minutes?

Tears had started to brim in your eyes, water piling in the corners without ever cascading down your cheeks. The fresh, salty air was helpful but the racing of your heart wasn’t slowing and the urge to be sick was clawing at the back of your throat. You had no idea how long you had been out there when the door pushed open again and foot steps started to close in on you. More adrenaline began to course through your veins as the flight response started to prickle the hairs on the back of your neck. That was until…

“You okay there darlin’?”

A southern drawl perked your ears up. The missing slur of alcohol settled some of the panic in your chest. It didn’t matter that you didn’t know this man speaking to you. You were just glad it wasn’t the one who had pawed you at the bar. When you turned around you were met with the greenest eyes you’d ever seen. They held a calm and steady strength that almost had you melting.

“No,” you answered honestly, your eyes still wild with panic.

Whatever the man had seen in you had him softening around the edges as he stepped closer. When you didn’t flinch away, he opened his arms in a gesture that had you nearly falling into his chest. Something about him just made you certain that he was someone you could trust, and it had nothing to do with his very pretty face or his nicely pressed khaki uniform. He just radiated comfort and security. His arms tightening around you only reaffirmed that for you. Already you could breathe a little easier.

“Can you smell my cologne, sweetheart?” He asked in a tone so soft and quiet it took concentration to hear it over the crashing waves behind you and the loud bar beyond the door. You twisted your face just a little, pressing your nose to his chest as you nodded in answer.

“What’s it smell like?”

His questions had you confused but you closed your eyes and sniffed, focusing on the different notes you could pick out. Your voice was muffled against his chest as you answered, taking a moment to sniff again between each pause.

“Woodsy. A little bit of leather. And, fuel of some kind, I think?”

There was a chuckle that vibrated in his chest, you could feel it against your nose. You weren’t sure if you’d heard it clear enough but you knew that you wanted to make it happen again.

“Thatta girl. Good job. Now, can you feel my arms around you?”

If he could see your face, you’re almost certain he’d be met with a deep grimace of embarrassment settling into your features. Instead of dealing with that embarrassment though, you nodded your head and kept your face pressed into his chest. His scent was one that felt comforting, settling the nausea from the encounter you had at the bar who knows how long ago now.

“What’s it feel like, darlin’?”

“Warm, strong… safe.”

As you thought of what his arms felt like around you, you realised what he was doing. He was grounding you. Pulling you back to Earth like no one else every had. This random stranger had taken one look at you and knew exactly how to help. There was a peace in that of itself. Something so comforting about someone helping to keep you tethered to the world around you. He was pulling you out of drowning waters and you couldn’t have been more thankful.

“Alright, good girl. What do you hear now, sweets? Everything ya hear, I wanna hear it too.”

A smile tugged the corner of your lips up. This might be the calmest you’ve felt all week.

“Your heart, steady and strong. The ocean waves crashing the shore. Is that… Great Balls of Fire playing inside?”

The man holding you chuckled again, and this time you could hear it loud and clear. It might have been the sweetest sound you’d ever heard. Nothing was muffled by panic anymore and you were in complete awe of this strange man. You pulled back a little bit from his chest so you could look up at him now. He was smiling down at you, eyes bright and far less concerned than when you first saw them.

“Thank you,” you breathed.

“Anytime, darlin’. Happy to help.”

There was a gleam in his eyes that you’d never seen directed at you before. It was nice to see and you found yourself struggling to look away from him. Silence stretched between you, the only sounds were of the end of Great Balls of Fire being shouted in the bar, and the crashing waves.

“The man from the bar was thrown out, and Penny told him he couldn’t come back. You’re safe in there now,” he paused for just a moment before adding, “and if you ever feel unsafe, you just come find me.”

How do you respond to that? Is there a way to tell someone you’ve never met before that they’re your new found hero? Can it be any more awkward than just staring at someone with sheer adoration in complete silence?

“I will,” you finally settle on, “and thank you again. I can’t tell you how much I appreciate that.”

You saw a faint dusting of pink flood his cheeks as he nodded his head in acknowledgment. He shifted, almost like he was going to turn around and go back inside without another word. Something stopped him though as he turned back to look at you.

“You gonna be okay, darlin’?” He asked and you nodded that you would be fine.

“I’m just gonna take a few more deep breaths, maybe walk down to the water edge for a second. I’m good.”

“Well, I’m gonna to leave my number at the bar with Penny. Make sure you get it before ya leave.”

He tossed a wink over his shoulder at you before disappearing into the throng of bodies inside. You swooned. Neither of you had even introduced yourselves and yet you felt more comfortable with him than you’d ever felt with anyone else. You’d definitely be getting that number but after you dipped your toes in the ocean for a moment. You needed to know more about this gorgeous, mysterious man who just pulled you back down to earth like it was nothing.

#hangman x reader #jake 'hangman' seresin fluff #Jake Seresin x reader #jake hangman x reader

563 notes · View notes

jackoshadows · 6 months

Text

The level of utterly hypocritical discourse in the asoiaf fandom.

About Sansa:

Same person about Robb and Jon:

Same person about Dany:

I simply love how there are these multipage essays and economic treatises on how Robb, Jon, Dany Et al. fuck up and fumble and are just bad leaders who don't enforce wage regulations and clause three of the constitution in worker's rights or plan army discipline and Jon is apparently just an 'angry teenager' unfit for leadership etc.

But Sansa? QUEEN IN THE NORTH because she's the blood of Winterfell! ITS WHAT SHE DESERVES NARRATIVELY.

And Sansa, who is currently 13, should be queen because the narrative says so! When, according to the same person, 16 year olds Jon and Robb fuck up as they are too young to be good rulers as per the same narrative that tells them that Sansa will be Queen...

That's what the narrative is telling us - that characters can become the best rulers/leaders simply because of their blood and has nothing to do with experience and learning and wisdom and hey look at Dany, Robb and Jon fucking up when Sansa will magically, simply be the best - the NARRATIVE SAYS SO!

Meanwhile GRRM on ruling:

One thing that I am trying to get at in the books, the political aspect if you would, is to kind of show that this stuff is hard. I think that an awful lot of fantasy and even some great fantasy falls under the mistake of assuming that a good man would be a good king and all that is necessary is to be a decent human being and then when you are king everything will go swimmingly. Tolkien is great but we never get into the nitty gritty of Aragorn ruling. What is his tax policy? How does he feel about crop rotation? How does he handle land disputes between two nobles, both of whom think that they should have the village, so they burn it down to establish their claim. This is the hard part of ruling be it in the middle ages or now. It’s not enough to be a good man to be an effective ruler. It’s complicated and it’s hard and I wanted to show that with repeated examples in my books with my kings and hand of the kings - the prime minister if you would - trying to rule. And whether it be Ned Stark or Tyrion Lannister or Tywin Lannister or Daenerys Targaryen or Cersei Lannister trying to deal with the real challenges that affect anyone trying to rule the 7K or even a city like Meereen and it’s hard. You know, we can all read the books or read history and say oh, so and so was stupid and made a lot of mistakes and look at all these stupid mistakes they make. But these kind of mistakes are always much more apparent in hind sight than when you are actually faced with the decision about, oh my God, what would I do in this situation. How do I resolve this thing? Do I do the moral thing? But what about the political consequences of the moral thing? Do I do the pragmatic, cynical thing and kind of screw the people who are screwed by it? I mean, it is HARD. And I want to get to all of that - GRRM

Apparently, when it comes to Sansa, GRRM will be saying:

" I mean, it (ruling) is EASY. The food conundrums that Jon and Dany are unable to solve in entire books will be easily tackled by Sansa who will just ask everyone to bring their grain to Winterfell! Easy peasy and one and done! I mean, Sansa is the BLOOD OF WINTERFELL! "

These chucklefucks don't know the first thing about narratives and themes. The result of GRRM not writing a book in 13 years is wading through shite like this.

#fandom nonsense

70 notes · View notes

brf-rumortrackinganon · 4 months

Note

I often wonder what was that one particular thing, ingredient X, if you may, that made Harry succumb to Meghan in June 2016?

I understand that he had psychological trauma from his mums death, from his dad's bourgeois parenting style, from the very fact that he was Windsor male for that matter. I also agree that he is quite simple minded, so now in hind sight we can say he is increasingly motivated by resentment towards his perfect brother, his own greed and need for adulation etc. But back in 2016, he was on a good path. Settling into his job. Enjoying the perks of his popularity. And it's safe to assume that both William and Harry, were used to the fact that women threw themselves at them both. So they also had some sense to know that not everyone had good intentions.

It's also been speculated that Harry did meet Meghan a year before in 2015, at Soho Istanbul (according to many bloggers). And may even have met her in 2014 at Miami (according to Shauna, Vintage Reads). So he had enjoyed her company and still evaded her clothes then.

And not just her, he probably had come into contact with many wannabes who he hooked up with and managed to shake off.

So why 2016? When everything seemed to be going so well for him? His family circle was fairly well grounded. He had an independent profile of his own royal work. He had a good team and loyal, competent staff. He had a great, extensive friend circle. He could have anything and anyone he wanted. He seemed nice, engaged with people, showed empathy and some commonsense when out and about. So I am so perplexed as to how and why, that "blind date" at Soho in May/June/July/whenever led to his spectacular downfall.

I know this isn't really the blog or the platform where we can psychoanalyse Harry correctly and succinctly. But it's just a question that I'm fascinated by. In 3 years, he lost every single thing he had - his family, his relationships, his work, his friends, his honour, his glory, his legacy, his prospects at any royal relevance. How were mental defences so down, so ineffective, how was he so walled-in into his trauma that he had no chance at being saved? It sure couldn't be as simple as greed for more money or a Hollywood lifestyle?

And let's be honest, Meghan isn't that great a catch where someone like him would just lay down everything at her feet and be like "here queen, feed on my guts, eat my flesh raw". Urghhh

I'm so confused and so perplexed.

All of Harry's friends and cousins were getting married and settling down in 2015/2016. That's a lot of peer pressure and expectations on him, even if it wasn't overt and directly applied.

And when everyone around you is coupling up, settling down, getting married, and having babies, that can give you beer goggles because now you're rushing through relationships to catch up with them. We've all seen it happen in our own friend groups, I'm sure. I've got a few friends who were so bothered by being in their 30s without partners and families while the rest of their friends are planning weddings and having babies that they marry the first guy who shows interest. Sometimes it works out, sometimes it doesn't.

That seems to be what happened to Harry. Everyone was settling down. He was feeling left out. So he met someone that suited his needs, said "to hell with the rest" and married her ASAP.

And also this: "He could have anything and anyone he wanted." isn't true. He wasn't getting the girls he wanted. He wanted someone like Kate - pretty, British, media-trained, from a good family, and well-off - and all those girls were staying far, far away from him. They knew what he was really like behind closed doors; needy, paranoid, cheap (he once made Cressida buy her own plane ticket for a trip he had invited her on), and heavily partying. The 'anyone he wanted' that Harry was going after wasn't into that.

Also, anon - if you haven't already, you might want to give Tom Bower's Revenge a read. Specifically Chapter 13, "A Troubled Prince," has a little bit of psychoanlysis of Harry that you might enjoy.

#sussexes #theories

39 notes · View notes

bookworm551 · 1 year

Text

Take the Edge Off | Part 5 | Comfort

After a devastating loss, Miguel seeks comfort in you

Sorry this took so long!! Life hit and I had to put this on the back burner. The next chapter might take a while too but I promise, it will definitely be worth the wait ;) Also, I’m slowly adding more fluff to these chapters, so if you don’t like it, too bad. Anyways, enjoy <3

Warnings: p in v, oral (m-receiving), fingering

Word count: 6k

Part 1 Part 2 Part 3 Part 4 Part 6 Part 7 Part 8 Part 9

"That anomaly is going to wreak havoc on the multiverse."

Nobody could have guessed just how right Miguel was. The anomaly that had escaped before had eluded the Spider-Society better than any of you had expected, setting off several chain reactions throughout various universes, little fires that you all had to scramble to put out. All of it was manageable until Earth-2319.

The anomaly had caused a canon-event disruption so large that nobody could stabilize the dimension, and it all collapsed on itself, destroying everything and everyone in it. You hadn't been on the mission since you were forced to adhere to Miguel's rule of not going on missions with him. In hind sight, you were grateful that you had stayed back. Watching a universe collapse wasn't something you wished to experience.

The loss of Earth-2319 shook everyone. Since Miguel had established the Spider-Society, there had only been a handful of losses like this. The compound on Earth-928 was unusually empty since everyone had gone back to their own dimensions just for the sake of appreciating that it was still there.

That's what you were doing, too. You sat next to your apartment window staring out at the city beyond it. It was all so mundane, so normal, and yet, the beauty of it made your throat tighten with emotion. You couldn't imagine the horror of losing an entire dimension, and the thought of losing your own made tears well in your eyes.

Suddenly, there was a knock at your door to pull you out of your melancholy. You whipped your head around in surprise. You hardly ever had visitors, but you pushed yourself away from your window and cracked the door open.

To your great surprise, Miguel's tall figure was there standing in the doorway. What was even more surprising was the fact that he wasn't in his spider suit. You stared dumbfounded for a second as you processed the sight of Miguel in a tight black t-shirt under a dark jacket and a pair of jeans.

"Hey," you said as you opened the door wider, surprise evident in your voice. His dark eyes lifted from the floor to meet yours. His lips parted like he was going to say something but then closed again with an uncomfortable sigh.

He didn't need to say anything. You could see the emotion in his eyes from the loss of Earth-2319–grief, anger, defeat. You looked up at him sympathetically and leaned your head against your door. "I know," you told him softly. "I heard." He sighed again, his eyes glancing away your face with a subtle nod.

"Are you alone?" He asked finally. Lifting your head off the door, you answered, "Yeah. Do you want to come in?" He hesitated before giving you a barely-perceptible nod of his head.

Moving aside, you opened the door wider so that he could enter your apartment. Closing the door, you turned back to face him and noticed how out of place he seemed in your home. He was so tall and muscular that it made your already small space feel even more cramped, not to mention how uncomfortable he seemed by being there.

"Do you want to talk about it?" You asked. He looked back at you for a moment before replying quietly, "No." You studied him for a quiet second without reply. His jaw clenched as he closed his eyes with a heavy sigh. "I want to forget about it," he said finally.

You knew what that meant. While you didn't mind in the slightest helping him take his mind off of things and providing him with some physical comfort, you hesitated and wondered if it was the best thing for him at the moment.

Miguel was waiting for a response, and he looked down at you expectantly. You placed a hand on his chest and looked up at him sympathetically. He wasn't good at being vulnerable, but for the first time since you met him, you could see he was trying.

You pushed him back gently with your hand on his chest, and he took several steps backwards until his the back of his legs hit your bed. He slowly sat down at the edge of your bed, his eyes fixed on your face. You moved your hands under his jacket and helped him remove it from his shoulders. With it being tossed on the floor, you crawled forward onto his lap, his hands tracing up the sides of your legs as his eyes fixed on your lips.

However, instead of kissing him like he was expecting, your arms slid around his neck, and you pulled him into a tight embrace. Miguel tensed for just a second before he hesitatingly wrapped his arms around your torso, and after a moment, he was fully hugging you back with his face buried in your neck.

You stayed there like that for quite a while. You could feel his heart beating steadily against his chest, and his hot breath fanned against your neck. The weight of his grief was reflected in the strength of his grip around your body. He seemed tired, completely and truly tired. It made your chest ache rather unexpectedly.

"This won't make it go away," you whispered finally. "You know that, right?" He didn't reply for a heartbeat, but then he sighed deeply. "I know," he whispered back.

You rubbed a hand down his back slowly for a little while until you turned your face into the crook of his neck. You pressed your lips to his skin, making him sigh again. Miguel tilted his head to give you better access to his neck, and your kisses slowly trailed up to his jaw.

As you kissed him, you started rocking your hips against his. A very quiet moan escaped from his lips, and his fingers gripped at your torso reactively. You increased your movements against him, and it made Miguel's breathing grow louder and deeper.

You placed another kiss on his jaw before pressing your lips against his. His hands wandered under your shirt as he kissed you before slowly lifting it up your body. You raised your arms to allow him to pull your shirt over your head, and you reached behind your back to unclasp your bra. As it fell away, Miguel pressed his kisses slowly across your collarbones.

The silence between you was unusual. Typically, you were shooting witticisms back and forth as you explored each other's bodies, but not this time. This time, it was quiet and slow with only the sounds of heavy breathing to fill the silence.

You sighed at his touch before pulling at his shirt from behind his back. He lifted his arms to help you pull the material over his head. As you tossed his shirt on the floor, you ran your hands over the tight muscles of his body. You still couldn't get over just how good he looked, and you stared at his chiseled abdomen before pressing kisses to his tanned skin.

Your lips leisurely moved down his torso, and Miguel leaned back on his hands as he sighed loudly at the trail of kisses you left on his body. You had never quite taken the time to properly shower him with physical affection like this, and Miguel closed his eyes at the sensation of your lips scattering kisses across his body.

When you reached the top of his jeans, you had slid off his lap and were now kneeling on the floor in front of him. You glanced up at him and could see the restless look on his face. You didn't look away as your hands undid the button and zipper of his jeans, the bulge in his pants becoming more evident.

"I like undressing you," you said with a smirk, breaking the silence around you. Miguel let out a little huff before replying, "It's easier with my suit." You hummed as you hooked your fingers under the waistline of his jeans. "Maybe so," you conceded, "but this is more fun."

He didn't say anything in response, he just lifted his hips to allow you to pull his jeans over his ass. He had already kicked off his shoes, and with his pants discarded, he was left in only a pair of black briefs with the print of his cock pressing through. With one hand, you rubbed his length over his briefs, causing him to clench his jaw and grunt at the sensation.

"I won't make you say please this time," you told him with a smirk. "But you have to promise me something." His chest was already heaving in anticipation, and his dark eyes were staring down at you attentively.

"Promise me you won't hold back all those sounds I like to hear," you said, looking up at him through your lashes. "I want to hear just how good I make you feel." You could see Miguel's face turn a little red at your demand. You had long noticed that the extent of noises he made when fucking were limited to sighs, grunts, and the occasional groan. You knew he was withholding the sounds that you enjoyed so much for the sake of his own ego, but if he wanted you to make him feel good, he'd better let you know he was feeling good.

You waited expectantly for his answer, still rubbing him slowly over the material of his briefs. His abs tightened, and you could feel him twitching under your palm. You looked up at his face as you waited patiently for his response.

Miguel seemed hesitant to answer you, but with how badly he wanted you to touch him, he eventually nodded and mumbled, "Okay." You smirked up at him and pressed your hand down on him with more pressure, causing him to grunt softly. "That's what I like to hear," you whispered as you tugged his briefs down his hips.

You grabbed his length firmly in your hand, and Miguel closed his eyes with a sharp breath. Tilting your head, you ran your tongue up one side of his dick and then the other, earning a soft sigh from him. There was precum already leaking from the end of his cock, and Miguel brought a hand up to grip at your head as your tongue continued teasing him.

"Fuck," he muttered quietly, his body tensing as you traced your tongue along the underside of his dick. His breathing was growing louder and less steady, and you could tell he was aching for you to do more to him.

Your lips twisted into a smirk while your hands began moving up and down lazily. You lowered your mouth down onto him slowly, taking as much of him as possible. As his cock hit the back of your throat, Miguel let out a quiet moan. It sounded like music to your ears, and you started moving your head up and down to encourage more sounds from him.

Miguel's head fell backward with another groan. He continued making quiet sounds as you moved your head and hands in tandem with each other. His fingers gripped the sheets of your bed, and his chest was heaving with every loud breath he took.

"Mierda," he gasped. "Don't stop, babygirl, don't stop."

His words drove you crazy. You could feel the hot throbbing between your legs, and the pace and eagerness with which you moved your mouth and hands increased, causing more groans to spill from his lips.

Glancing up at him, you wanted to memorize this image of him forever. The muscles of his torso were flexing with pleasure as he leaned back on one hand, the other one still holding your head though not pushing you down further than you could go. His eyes were closed, and his lips were parted with soft grunts emerging from them. The anger and dismay from earlier had disappeared from his expression, and you knew he was absorbed in the feeling of your mouth around him.

You trained your focus on taking as much of his dick in your mouth as possible. He hissed sharply as your tongue continued moving smoothly around him. His grunts and groans grew louder and more frequent until there was no silence. Your name was falling from his lips between his ragged breaths, and eventually, he was hardly able to talk at all.

When his thighs started to flex, you knew he was growing closer to finishing. His panting breaths were becoming shakier, and his groans were growing louder. You raised your mouth off of him but still kept your hands moving at the same steady pace.

"On me or in me?" You asked.

Miguel struggled to reply as your hands continued sliding up and down his cock fervently. "What?" He managed grunt out, opening his eyes to look down at you.

"Do you want to cum on me or in me?" You asked sweetly, your lips turned upwards in a devious smile. Miguel cursed under his breath and sat up to grab your wrists. Moving your hands away from his dick, he yanked you up from your kneeling position, his hands grasping desperately at your body as he pulled you up to his face.

"In you," he answered breathlessly. "In you every time."

You smirked at his response and began pulling your shorts and underwear down and kicked them off. Being completely exposed, you crawled up into his lap. His eyes were glossed over with lust, and his whole body moved restlessly in search of yours. You kissed him, and he shoved his tongue eagerly in your mouth and moaned at the sensation. Reaching a hand down, you aligned yourself to him before lowering yourself slowly onto his cock.

Feeling him stretch you out so perfectly caused a satisfied groan to emerge from your throat. Miguel sucked in a sharp breath as you moved down his length until your hips were resting in his lap. He released the breath in a long sigh as you moved your hips upwards again.

Miguel's hands didn't know how to stay still. They roamed your body eagerly, sliding across your back, grabbing at your ass, moving down your thighs. As you continued rising and falling on his dick, he settled them onto your hips and held your waist. His head was tilted back as he stared at your face through half-lidded eyes while soft grunts sounded from his parted lips.

Your body moved at a steady pace as he gripped your torso and held you tightly against his body. The feeling of his massive size moving in you sent ripples of pleasure throughout your body with every rise and fall of your hips. You would never get used to how good he could make you feel, and with the sounds of your heavy breathing and his quiet sounds between you, you found that every little moan and sigh fueled your passion.

He had been on the cusp of his release before, and now, he was chasing after it again. His arms snaked around your waist, and he rested his head against your collarbone while raising your body up and slamming it back down on his cock faster and harder. Your hands pulled his head closer while your fingers threaded through his hair, loud groans tearing from your throat as he pounded into you.

Miguel was keeping his promise as well. He let go of any apprehension he may have had about moaning and was now so engulfed in his pleasure he was receiving from you that the neighbors could undoubtedly hear him through the walls. His grunts and gasps filled the air around you as he lifted you up and down with fervor. His own lust-crazed desperation had rendered you speechless, and you held onto him while letting out soft whines and and groans.

Words were pouring from his lips, mumbled and slurred in a drunken-like stupor. They were mostly in Spanish, but he spoke so quietly and moaned so often that it was difficult to hear him. You caught the occasional word or phrase that he murmured against your hot skin— tan bonita, preciosa, qué rica. He seemed to be saying them more for himself that for you, but hearing him whisper in your ear like that made you press sloppy kisses all over his neck and shoulder.

With a long, gasping moan, his movements stopped suddenly as his arms squeezed around you tightly, and he came inside you. You held him tightly while he released every bit of tension from his body into you. After a quiet moment, his whole body seemed to sag with relief, and his tight embrace of your body loosened. With only your heavy breathing to fill the silence, his posture made it seem like he was hugging you, his arms still wrapped around your torso while his face rested in the crook of your neck.

Finally, he raised his head up and placed a gentle kiss to your throat. "I fucking love the way you feel around me," he murmured softly against your skin. You hummed with a smirked. "That's why you always come back," you replied smugly. He raised his head up to look at your face through half-lidded eyes, your noses touching and lips brushing softly against each other.

"I don't think I can stay away from you," he admitted under his breath, sounding almost perplexed at his confession. You studied his face for a second, taking in the sight of his sharp angles and dark features that made him so handsome. There was a glimmer of sweat that covered his skin, and his hair was messy from your fingers running through it. He looked so good, it hurt.

"Then don't," you whispered softly, pressing a kiss to his lips. You slipped your tongue into his mouth, and he moaned quietly as you moved it lazily against his own. Breaking away from his lips, you lifted yourself off of him, and Miguel closed his eyes with a soft sigh. You rolled off his lap and lay down on the bed.

He was still sitting up on the edge of your bed with his eyes closed, his breathing starting to slow finally. When he opened them again, his gaze began searching the floor for his discarded clothes. Your heart dropped a little when you realized he was getting ready to leave, and you couldn't stop yourself from whispering, "Stay."

His eyes shifted over to your face, and he didn't say anything. "You should stay," you repeated before adding softly, "if you want to, of course." He waited a moment as he stared down at your naked body lying next to him, and he ran a hand slowly up your leg. On his face, you could see him debating your plea, and for a disappointing second, you thought he was going to turn you down.

"Okay."

Your eyebrows quirked up in pleasant surprise, and you couldn't resist the soft smile that grew on your face. You shifted to allow him space next to you on your bed. With a grunt, he lay down next to you. His weight caused the bed sag, and you chuckled at how your body was pulled in toward his.

As Miguel adjusted next to you, he turned his head toward you, eyes raking across your form in contemplation. "Hmm?" You hummed questioningly, noting his unabashed stare. His eyes moved back up to your face after a second, and he replied, "I was selfish."

Your eyebrows drew together in confusion. "What do you mean?" You asked softly.

He ran a hand up the tender inside of your thigh, sending chills across your skin. "I didn't take care of you first," he said in a low voice. The corner of your lip pulled upward. You hadn't been planning on saying anything to him about not finishing. You knew he was in need of a distraction, and you didn't mind setting aside your own pleasure to give it to him.

"This was for you," you told him. "And it doesn't mean I didn't have fun." He hummed as his fingers traced up your leg ever so slowly, and your breath hitched at his feather-light touch. "Perhaps," he conceded, "but it's more fun when I get to see the pretty faces you make when you cum."

As he spoke, Miguel rolled onto his side, propping himself up by his elbow, and ran his fingers through the wet folds of your pussy. Your eyes closed as you took in a sharp breath, and your head pressed back into the mattress with a soft whimper. "There's one," he noted in a satisfied tone. "I want to see you make more."

The bass of his voice reverberated in your ear as he pushed two fingers into you. You gasped softly and parted your legs for him. You were already so wet both from your arousal as well as his cum, so his fingers were immediately slick as he pushed into you, and it wasn't difficult for him to pick up where he had left off.

"Did you think I wouldn't take care of you?" He whispered, his lips pressed close to your ear. You groaned as his thumb traced over your clit with intentional slowness. "I want to make you cum as much as I want it myself," he continued in his low voice. "I get high off of it."

You groaned again as he kissed you under your jaw and pushed a third finger into you. His fingers moved expertly inside you, curling exactly right against your G-spot while his thumb move against your clit faster. Obscene noises were falling from your mouth as you raised one hand to grip the back of his head by his hair while the other clawed at the bedding under you.

Miguel was able to read every moan and every twitch of your thigh to navigate his way to your climax. He pressed an open-mouthed kiss to one of your breasts, his tongue tracing over your nipple. "Fuck, Miguel," you whispered under your breath at all of the powerful sensations you were feeling.

He pulled his lips away for a moment with a smirk. "You know I love it when you say my name like that," he murmured and increased the pace of his fingers. You wanted to say his name again, but when he took your breast back in his mouth, all that came out was, "Mmmm."

He continued sucking at you while fucking you with his fingers. His tongue teased at your nipple before his teeth grazed across it, forcing a stuttering gasp from your mouth. Miguel seemed to like that reaction because he did it one more time before taking your nipple between his teeth. Your body jerked as you whimpered at the sensation of his teeth around you, and you tugged roughly at his hair.

Your thighs started twitching and your breathing grew ragged as he continued pumping his fingers in and out of you. Every inch of your body was burning with passion, and you were entirely engulfed in the pleasure that his fingers and mouth were bringing you. Your eyes were squeezed shut while long whines fell from your mouth from his thumb's rhythmic circles around your clit, and your stomach started tensing.

Miguel knew the signs of your impending orgasm, and he raised his mouth off of your body. "I know you're close," he whispered, interrupting the wet sounds of his fingers inside you. "Open your eyes for me." It was hard to listen to him, but with effort, you blinked your eyes open to look at him. His lips were curled in a subtle smirk as he admired your face.

"There you are," he purred. You struggled hard not to close your eyes again, but his fingers were fucking you so well that it took every ounce of your concentration to keep looking at him. He brought his face close to yours, and with a smug look, he whispered, "Now, cum for me."

That's all it took for you to fall over the edge, and your whole body began shaking with your orgasm. You squeezed tightly onto his hair and the sheets as your back arched off the mattress, and loud cries of pleasure tore from your throat. All thoughts of keeping your eyes open were swept away, and you squeezed them shut as your body was set ablaze with bliss.

When it became too much for you, your thighs clenched around his hand, forcing him to stop. Your body was still twitching and trembling as you recovered, but after a couple of seconds, you relaxed enough for Miguel to pull his fingers out of you, earning a soft whimper from you. When you opened your eyes again, his face was alight with triumph.

"Such a pretty face," he said, running his wet fingers over your body. "You always listen so well." Your chest still heaved in unsettled gasps as his hand trailed up you body. "Holy shit," you breathed quietly when you were able to speak. Miguel wore a smug expression as he watched you recover from his touch.

"I told you," he muttered. "I get high off of seeing you like this." You closed your eyes with a few deep breaths and replied in a wry tone, "Well, by all means, take as many hits as you'd like."

You were amazed to hear a deep chuckle in response to your comment. You opened your eyes and looked at him in surprise. He was gazing down at you with an amused smile that adorned his whole face, making him appear almost...happy.

"Was that a laugh I just heard, O'Hara?" You asked with only slightly exaggerated astonishment. He raised an eyebrow while still smiling at you and said, "Maybe. I guess you finally said something funny." You sat up on your elbows and scoffed playfully at his words. "I've always been funny," you maintained. "I just think you're finally learning what humor is."

He hummed in response as he gazed softly at you. "I told you before that I can be funny," he told you, making you roll your eyes dramatically. "Well, I have yet to see it," you shot back with a smile. He didn't say anything back, but he seemed amused by your banter. You could see that his eyes were studying your features intently, and the warm look on his face as he stared at you quietly made your stomach flutter.

To escape his tender gaze that was beginning to fluster you, you closed your eyes with a deep sigh and stretched before rolling off the bed to go to the bathroom. "Are you still gonna be here when I come back?" You asked, trying to sound indifferent.

His eyes wandered over your body as you stood before glancing up at your face again. "We'll have to see," he responded. You huffed in reply before bending down to scoop his shirt off the floor and walking to your bathroom. "That's mine," he stated flatly as he watched you go.

"Oh, really?" You called over your shoulder. "That's too bad."

Without looking back at him, you closed the door of the bathroom with a smirk. You took a quick shower just to clean the sweat and cum off your body, not wanting to take too long in case Miguel decided to leave while you were gone. After drying yourself off, you took his shirt and threw it on. The black material that hugged his body so nicely hung like a dress on your form. It still smelled like him, and you decided he wasn't getting this back without a fight.

Coming out of the bathroom, you saw that Miguel was still in bed and had now slipped under the covers. His muscular body was still mostly exposed for you to admire, and he had one arm resting beneath his head as he looked around. His eyes were studying your apartment, and you suddenly felt conscious of how small your home was.

"It's not much, but it's mine," you told him as you walked to the kitchen to grab some water. He turned his attention to you, and a smile tugged at his lips at the sight of you in his shirt. "It's nice," he replied, looking back at your decorations adorning the walls.

You snorted. "Well, you don't have to lie," you said, walking back over to him with a water bottle in hand. "I'm not lying," he asserted as he sat up. "It's very... you."

You raised an eyebrow at him with a skeptical smile. "What does that mean?" You asked playfully, handing him the water bottle and sitting next to him on the mattress.

"It means," he said deliberately, "it's nice.”

There was a pause as he took a drink, and you smiled softly at him. You could almost be convinced he was complimenting you. Almost.

"I can't stay the whole night," he said after taking a drink. You rolled your eyes with a small smile. "I know," you responded. "You're married to your work, and I'm just the mistress who offers a little distraction."

Miguel didn't seem to find that as funny as you did because his eyebrows furrowed just a little bit. "I told you before that I don't have time for relationships," he muttered quietly. You sighed with a shake of your head. "I know, Miguel. It was a joke," you told him.

He gave a quick hum before twisting to lay on his stomach and shut his eyes. You lay down next him and slipped your legs under the covers. With his eyes closed, you took time to study his face unabashedly. It was nice seeing him like this, calm and relaxed, not tense and angered by whatever mishap screwed up his day at work. It gave you satisfaction knowing he could be like this with you.

His relaxed expression disappeared when his gently resting eyes squeezed tightly, and his eyebrows drew together in agitation. Before, it used to be nearly impossible to read his thoughts on his face, but this time, you were sure you knew what was bothering him.

"It wasn't your fault what happened today," you whispered. "None of it was."

He said nothing in reply, but you knew he didn't believe your statement. After a moment, Miguel heaved a large sigh. "I thought we weren't supposed to talk about work in bed?" He reminded quietly. A corner of your lips quirked upwards before quickly melting away again. "Today was bad," you told him. "I don't mind if you want to talk about it."

There was a short pause before he shook his head, still not opening his eyes. "Okay," you agreed softly. His expression was still drawn in agitation. You scooched in closer to him and ran your hand down his back.

Miguel's muscles jumped at your touch, causing your hand to freeze reactively. "Sorry," you said quietly. Miguel's eyebrows furrowed, his eyes still closed, and he shook his head. "No, it's...it's okay," he muttered softly. After studying his face for a quiet second, you asked, "Do you want me to keep going?" He didn't reply for a few heartbeats before faintly nodding his head.

You slowly rubbed your hand up his back again, and he breathed in a large sigh. His muscles flexed at your touch, and he seemed to press into your palm almost like a cat. You continued slowly moving your hand up and down his toned muscles, occasionally curling your fingers to scratch his skin lightly. When you did, he pushed into your hand even more.

You stared at the sight before you in amazement. Miguel was someone who was so guarded. His cold demeanor always set people on edge. He never joked or laughed with anyone, never opened up or offered support, and yet, here he was with you, falling asleep in your bed under the slow movements of your hand.

As his muscles started relaxing, his breathing slowed until you were sure he was asleep. His face looked so peaceful, so beautiful, that for a moment, you wished he would spend every night with you. You had made a joke about being the mistress, but deep down, you realized that it wasn't entirely false. You were his release, but in the end, he'd always return to the multiverse.

You hadn't even realized you were falling asleep until you woke up again. A dim memory echoed through your mind of a hand brushing across your face and words whispered softly in your ear in Spanish. It had been a very realistic dream, or had it been a dream-like reality? You reached a hand out across the bed and found it was empty. You had expected it to be, but that didn't stop you from hoping you'd be wrong.

Opening your eyes, you found that it was still dark out, and the clock on your nightstand read 4:43. You sat up slowly and turned on your lamp. Miguel's clothes were gone as well, though you realized your were still wearing his large black shirt.

Even in your sleepiness, you huffed out a quiet laugh at the thought of Miguel returning to his dimension shirtless. In truth, he probably just zipped his jacket up over his torso, but you still enjoyed the mental picture of him trying not to be seen shirtless in the compound.

You sluggishly pulled yourself out of bed to use the bathroom, but something caught your eye that made you pause. There on the nightstand was a little black box that certainly hadn't been there before. There was a note on top that you lifted close to your face to read.

Miguel had the handwriting of a doctor, and you had to study his messy scrawl for a moment before you could make out what it said.

It's called unstable molecule fabric.

And I want my shirt back.

The second line made you smile, but the first one confused you. You had never heard of unstable molecule fabric, and it made you curious to see what was in the box.

Opening the lid, you were surprised and confused to find a set of two web shooters that looked almost identical to your own. You lifted them out of the box to inspect them, and without finding anything unusual about them, you placed them on your wrists.

For a couple of seconds, nothing happened. You were about to take them off when you gasped in alarm as something started crawling up your arms. Your body was being enveloped by something, but you didn't know what it was until it covered every inch of you.

Looking down at yourself, you gaped in awe at the sight of your body in a suit—your suit. It dawned on you that you were wearing the same type of technology that Miguel wore, his 'cooler-than-nanotech' suit. It almost felt alive with its intuitive ability, and though it covered your body, you could barely feel it, almost like a holographic projection, but still a tangible material. It really was cooler than nanotech.

The material withdrew from around your face with just a thought, and you stared at yourself in your floor length mirror. You never took Miguel for the gift-giving type. This was beyond what you would have expected from him, it almost felt like too much.

With another thought, the material receded all the way back into your web shooters, leaving you standing in just an oversized black shirt and a shocked expression. You removed the web shooters from your wrists before glancing at the spot that you hid your old suit. You had made it yourself, and you had a sentimental attachment to it. Still, it would certainly be nice not to have to sew up every tear, and being able to wear a retractable suit definitely had several advantages.

Looking back down at the note Miguel had written, you smirked, figuring that these new web shooters were a fair enough trade for his shirt.

259 notes · View notes

a-libra-writes · 1 year

Note

Can I request any lackadaisy characters of your choosing reacting to a male reader who is normally very apathetic laughing and smiling for the first time?

Sure! many characters here so I put a cut.

♣️Rocky - OH. Oh, wow, that's a great face. A great laugh, too. Wow. If you're reacting that way because of something he did, Rocky is just delighted and will absolutely do it again. This is filed away in his brain for eternity - on this day, at this time, he finally got you to crack. Even if it short-lived. No one believes him when he brags about his triumph.

♣️Freckle - The noise actually makes him startle; he never expected that out of you - not that it's unpleasant! Quite the opposite. It makes him smile too. He was always a bit nervous around you. Though, if you were laughing and smiling at something morbid, well ... maybe he's still nervous ...

♣️Ivy - "Wow! I didn't even know your face muscles worked that way!" She is also committing this historical event to memory, because she absolutely wants to see it again! If something she did or said is what amused you, she's definitely gonna try again later. She talks to all her friends and the other Lackadaisy staff about her accomplishment; they can scarcely believe her.

♣️Mitzi - "That's a sweet smile you have, dear," and she means it. Mitzi is glad to see that side of you, even moreso if she's the only person who got to witness it. If she's the reason you smiled, she gets a warm happy feeling and plots to try again some day.

♣️Viktor - The sudden noise surprises him. His tail puffs just slightly as he side-eyes you, then goes back to whatever he was working on. That was. ... strange. Like seeing a dog walk on its hind legs, or when Mordecai smiled for once - no. He'd rather not think of back then. He grunts and ignores you for a while.

♣️Zib - "Oh thank god, you're one of the living after all. Sometimes I forget." He talks shit, but your smile actually gave him butterflies. He just tugs his hat down and goes back to lounging, though he'll remember that sight for quite a while.

♣️Atlas - He glances at you for a moment, then goes back to whatever he was doing. That was certainly surprising. The others' reactions are quite amusing, too. If he didn't witness it, he may not believe it.

🏵️Serafine and Nico - Serafine grins and elbows her brother to make sure he noticed, which he very much did. If it was one of them who got that reaction out of you, they'll never let the other forget it. They both have something of a competition when it comes to getting reactions out of you; you're much more fun to tease than Mordecai. Well, you've given an inch, now they want to take a mile.

🏵️Mordecai - It surprises him, which it really shouldn't, because he's of a similar temperament. Mordecai is a little disconcerted, but ... well, your laugh is fairly pleasant and the smile does a good job of not looking unhinged. If you were laughing at something morbid or creepy, alas, that kind of ruins the appeal. wait wait why is he thinking about your appeal--

⛰️Wick - He almost drops whatever he was drinking, and blinks a few times before smiling and giving a little laugh himself. If he was the reason for that reaction, he's (very) proud and embarrassed. It was probably silly, whatever he said, but it's nice to see such a pleasant expression on your normally serious face. Truth be told, you kind of intimidate him.

⛰️Lacy - "Huh. I didn't think he had it in him," She says to her boss as you walk out. "A shame, he has a nice smile. .... Sir?" She snaps her fingers several times in front of Wick to get him back to reality.

#rocky rickaby x reader #freckle mcmurray x reader #calvin mcmurray x reader #ivy pepper x reader #mitzi may x reader #viktor vasko x reader #zib zibowski x reader #dorian zibowski x reader #serafine savoy x reader #nico savoy x reader #mordecai heller x reader #wick sable x reader #lackadaisy x reader #omg so many tags i apologize LOL

320 notes · View notes

mambamorananewaccount · 2 months

Text

Status: Hungry but feeling nice before killing.

Mamba: You know, I wasn’t always like this. Right now I’m kind of like the character Deadpool expect I did not kill for money, I killed for meals or other reasons. Besides that, I was sweet. To a few humans I trusted through the ages.

Mamba smiles as she sits on the ground, drawing something into the dirt with her claws. Mamba’s tail covers the human girl’s mouth as she was tied up in rope. Human girl still terrified but still listened to Mamba’s story.

Mamba: When humans first came to my territory, they had different clothing than today. It was about three or four centuries ago. I had easy meals back then. One day I had a little girl running through my forests and playing in the river.

*Flash back*

Child laughter fills the air as Mamba watches from the trees. Mamba was smaller and thinner in those days, she wasn’t 12ft tall when she stand on her hind legs. Besides that, this was also the time Mamba didn’t have her third eye revealed that often.

She watches from a low branch as the young girl plays the river, sticks, rocks or whatever she can find. Mamba was intrigued, she never really sees human children play by themselves, much less in her own forests.

It reminds her of when she was a kit, playing by herself or playing with her dad. The young girl hears a growl and she looks behind her, she sees a wolf in some bushes nearby. The young girl screams and runs into the woods.

When the young girl was out of sight, Mamba climbed down and pounced on top of the wolf. The wolf snarled and snap its snout at her but this didn’t scare Mamba. Mamba bites the wolf’s neck and twists it her mouth. Killing the wolf.

She raises her head up to look down at her work, the corners of her lips going up as what would be considered a smile. She drags the wolf by the neck with her tail and heads back up into the trees. The young girl none of Mamba’s concern.

*Flash back ends*

Mamba looks down at the drawing she made of herself killing the wolf in great detail.

Mamba: I did kill the wolf mainly because I was hungry but part of me- Damnit I killed another human while telling a story. And I’m also talking to myself…oh the labs and years did a number on me.

Mamba stands up as her tail lets go of the now dead girl. The end of her tail covered in blood.

Mamba: Sometimes I wish I had more of my species around in my forest, at least by then I can find a female or male that can tolerate the cold like me. I’ll find a mate one day, right now, dinner.

Year 2015 Month ??? Day??6

Status: without a mate.

@ind1go-artw0rkz @starheart-blog

#trevor henderson #julius the cat #cartoon cat #oc x canon #self insert x canon #story #horror

12 notes · View notes

soullessfawn · 1 year

Text

In Every Life Time, I Fail

Phil was cursed a very long time ago with immortality after killing the End Dragon, with her death he was granted what she could never have before that fated day, an end to her existence. With her wings attaching themselves to his back transforming him into a feathery winged creature, half human half immortal, Phil will forever no the pain of living too long of a life.

At first he never even noticed, going back to his wife and kissing her on the cheek, pride in her eyes at the tales he spins of his battles, but soon that smile started to winkle, like any persons does as they age.

Phil loved it just the same, that smile, it only started to hurt him when he realized the winkles on his face were missing. Phil kept looking young, his wife getting older and older, until she dies, leaving him behind.

The wings weren’t enough anymore, he wanted to see that smile again, but she’s forever locked away from him. Phil would trade a hundred flights he took with her in his arms to be able to join her in the after life, but no matter who he prayed too, his fate was sealed.

Phil knew there were many names to the End Dragon, yet he never wondered why.

He never thought about how they changed form woman to man, from beast to beast, that they isolated themselves in a dimension outside of time itself at the end of the universe.

It’s only hundreds of year after when Phil looks I’m the mirror, does he realize who the Ender Dragon truly was. She was a mortal just like him once, going on a great adventure to slay the End beast and just like Phil had, she fell for it, the curse moving to her when she killed her predecessor.

Phil took to travelling the land, doing good in hopes that he’d find a way to break the curse, instead Phil found a man who could hear the voices of blood and vengeance themselves.

Techno was a weird man, the sort of man who wouldn’t ask questions as to why Phil never seemed to age, had wings that were black as the void and smelled like star dust, the sort of man Phil could find happiness in. They travelled the world together, Techno wasn’t immortal but he was far from a mortal man, always hiding his face beneath a pig mask.

Phil found this out one day, when a stray arrow got him in the chest, this was before Techno knew of his immortality, so as Phil collapsed to the ground not able to move, Techno thought he was dead.

That night Phil witnessed why people feared Technoblade and why his voices named him Blood God.

Techno was a beast just like Phil was, but instead of one born from the death of another, Techno was born from the blood of the living and suffering, as long as blood flowed through his veins, Techno could transform into a monstrous boar stronger then any man.

That night Techno’s true nature was revealed and Phil’s was, but the blonde was more focused on the black mail he now had on the other.

“You cried!” Phil would chuckle, patting a sulking Techno on the shoulder. “Awww mate, you really do care about me!”

After that, Phil found a boy with brown hair and a love for the people. Wilbur, a scrawny thing you’d think would die from the softest winds, but somehow survived the many winters Phil housed him.

Wilbur was Phil’s son in everything but blood, then came Tommy, then Tubbo. Soon enough the boys set off, all to soon if Phil had to say, but in hind sight Phil would have preferred it ended there.

L’manburg was a country he watched his own son build, then die for.

By his hand…

Phil would never forgive himself for that.

“Please!” Phil screamed into the night, the Tundra winds freezing him. He would have died out here due to the cold if it wasn’t for his curse. “Take me instead! Let Wilbur live! Let him live!”

Some of Phil’s wings faded to a dark grey and Wilbur woke up in his bed the morning after, a mad man who’s seen death and walked away from it.

After the fall of the country, Phil left, Techno hot on his heels like he had always been.

The man was older, Phil could tell, even after all these thousands of years, time was never one there side. “I think I’m going to go.” Techno, his old friend, said one night over a warm bowl of soup.

“Go where?” Phil asked, oblivious at the time. “The voices needing entertainment—“

“Not like that.” Techno cut him off, humming. The man was looking out the window, hair tied up in a loose bun, colour freckled with grey. His face was wrinkled, his knees ached, Techno hasn’t fought in a battle since L’manburg times. “I’m going to visit your wife.”

Then it clicked, yet by this time death was meaningless to Phil. Everyone but this one, it seemed. “It’s that time already?” Phil whispered.

Techno nodded, smiling. “I’m not gone yet, old man, I still have a few more years.”

A couple of years later, Phil was invited to an island resort. The QSMP, whatever that was.

He should ah e known his bad luck would follow him.

Phil met new people, reunited with Wilbur, Quackity, Tubbo, Niki…

He became a dad to two lovely kids named Chayanne and Tallulah, it was perfect.

Until they went missing.

“Please come back…” Phil cries, eyes gazing out of the birdcage he was trapped inside. “Before I outlive you both while stuck in here.”

#qsmp philza #QSMP #philza minecraft #au idea #writing snippet #snippet #wilbur soot #tubbo #technoblade #Immortal Philza au #qsmp lore #Soulless Fawn AUs

55 notes · View notes

statecryptids · 8 months

Text

DEVIL MONKEYS- VIRGINIA

Though South America, Central America and southern Mexico have a great diversity of primates, northern North America has none aside from humans. This is ironic given that the earliest known primate- a small, squirrel-like creature called Purgatorius- evolved on this continent. Descendants of Purgatorius and its relatives diversified into several lineages of tarsier- and lemur-like forms that inhabited North America during the warm Eocene epoch before supposedly dying out as the land grew cooler and grasslands became more abundant.

A fossil find in 1960s altered this view when molars from a lemur-like creature dubbed Ekgmowechasala (Sioux for “Little Cat Man”) were unearthed on the Pine Ridge Indian Reservation in South Dakota. This animal lived in the Oligocene, millions of years after other primates were thought to have died out, proving that at least a few of these lines had continued. Though no younger North American primate fossils have been found since, what if descendants of Ekgmowechasala survived into the present day?

In 1959 a couple by the name of Boyd were driving home near Saltville, Virginia when a strange, monkey-like beast attacked their car. They described it as having light “taffy-colored” fur with a white belly, and powerful, muscular legs. Other people in the Saltville area reported seeing a similar creature around the same time.

Then in the 1990s a woman driving on a dark Virginia backroad saw a creature run in front of her car that she described as black and sleek with a long tail, pointy ears, a short-snouted face, a man-like torso, and powerful hind legs. Though the earlier Boyd cryptid bears little resemblance to this animal- and may in fact have been a different species- both incidents have been conflated in pop culture as encounters with what have come to be called devil monkeys.

While the Virginia encounters are the most well-known sightings, devil monkeys have been seen throughout North America. Coweta County, Georgia, for example, is haunted by the Belt Road Booger, a simian creature with a “flat, beaver-like tail covered in hair”. Run-ins with the Booger began in the 1970s, many of them now believed to have been hoaxes by pranksters dressed in gorilla costumes. But other encounters have not yet been fully explained. The Belt Road Booger has become such a local sensation that a taxidermist in Newnan, Georgia even made a fake “Booger” head out of a white-tailed deer’s posterior as a decoration for a friend’s hardware store.

There is also possible photographic evidence of a devil monkey. In 1996 photos surfaced online of a strange, furry, baboon-like carcass lying along the curb of a Louisiana highway. Dubbed the Deridder Roadkill, the body bears a distinct resemblance to descriptions of these cryptids with its long snout, bushy-haired body, and ape-like feet. While some have suggested the carcass was a devil monkey, others have proposed that it could be a rougarou, dogman, or even a chupacabra. More mundane suggestions include a large Pomeranian dog, or even a prop. However, as so often happens in these cases, the body disappeared before samples could be taken, so its identity could not be proved definitively.

Devil monkeys are often said to have powerful kangaroo-like hind legs that allow them to jump huge distances. This feature has led some cryptozoologists to wonder if widely reported “phantom kangaroos” sighted throughout the US and Canada might actually be these animals.

While stories of large non-human North American primates like sasquatch and skunk apes are abundant in folklore and cryptozoology, no fossil evidence for these creatures has been found. Thus if they are real, one could argue that they likely migrated to this continent late in geological history along the same routes that humans used. Devil monkeys, on the other hand, may represent a species of home-grown North American primate possibly descended from Ekgmowechasala or similar animals.

REFERENCES

Eons. (20, November 12). What happened to primates in North America? [Video]. PBS.org. https://www.pbs.org/video/the-first-and-last-north-american-primates-dztigm/#:~:text=Why%20don't%20we%20have,and%20eventually%20they%20all%20disappeared.

Gilly, Steve. (2018, April 20). The Devil Monkey. MountainLore. https://mountainlore.net/2018/04/20/the-devil-monkey/

Grundhauser, Eric. (2016, December 22). Does America have a secret kangaroo population? Atlas Obscura. https://www.atlasobscura.com/articles/does-america-have-a-secret-kangaroo-population

Leftwich, Rebecca. (2023, October 30). Who put the “boo” in the Belt Road Booger? The Newnan Times-Herald. https://www.times-herald.com/news/who-put-the-boo-in-the-belt-road-booger/article_ee9d689e-770f-11ee-a003-8bb851ca9cb4.html

Lynch, Brendan M. (2023, November 6). Fossils tell tale of last primate to inhabit North America before humans. University of Kansas. https://news.ku.edu/2023/11/06/fossil-evidence-tells-tale-last-primate-inhabit-north-america-humans#:~:text=The%20first%20primates%20came%20to,about%2034%20million%20years%20ago.

Morphy, Rob. (2010, January 13). Deridder Roadkill: (Louisiana, USA). Cryptopia. https://www.cryptopia.us/site/2010/01/deridder-roadkill-louisiana-usa/

Morphy, Rob. (2010, December 6). Devil monkeys: (North America). Cryptopia. https://www.cryptopia.us/site/2010/12/devil-monkeys-north-america/

Spooky Appalachia. (2023, April 26). The story of the Virginia devil monkey. [Video]. YouTube. https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Nsv-mBSEX74

Taylor, Jr. L. B. (2012). Monsters of Virginia. Stackpole Books.

#cryptids #virginia #cryptozoloogy

33 notes · View notes

medra-gonbites · 29 days

Text

Wounds of Love

A one shot chapter about Lae'zel's obsession for the wizard and her way of coping with it.

Pairing: Lae'zel x Gale

SFW, Fluff, Fighting

Words: 2028

She was truly thankful to have found Tav. That she would never admit either. Despite their lenience and their abhorrent preference for diplomacy over efficient offensive, they had proven time and time again to be an adequate leader. [...] Their traveling companions, however, were a liability to say the least. A bundle of weaklings, pernicious and lying to cover their own hind. Not a hint of bravery and battle prowess safe for the giant fiery Tiefling who despite her combat skills was too naive and kind for her own good. The worst of them being the wizard. Not able to lift a sword with his puny arms and constantly yapping about anything that flourished in his human head. It seemed to be flooded by never ending thoughts given how he would consistently share them with everyone. And yet that night, Lae’zel thoughts could not stray away from him.

Read the rest on A03 or below the cut!

I always thoughts that Gale and Lae'zel have great chemistry.

They talk a lot, ask each other questions. I think Lae'zel might be the only companion that does not roast him (might be wrong but if she does she does it significantly less). Gale is always very interested in her culture and curious to learn more.

I like to head canon that she initially despise him because of his gentle side and his tendency to yap endlessly but his power and intelligence won her over eventually (and she is mad about it!).

image source: my screenshot (they are so cuuuuuute).

Crèche K'liir was located in the darkness of the Realmspace floating among the tears of Selûne; this was an hostile and barren plane although not deprived of beauty. The rocky asteroids formed a constellation in its own way, a trail of coarse dust peppered across the void of the nightosphere. It was a brutal sight that awed anyone that could witness it.

Harsh. Unyielding. Magnificent. Lae’zel shared such traits with the environment she had evolved in.

She had followed a violent and unforgiving training that had seen most of her peers dead. She had herself slain several of her fellow trainees, githyanki warriors born from the same clutch of eggs as hers. “Siblings”? That’s how they would be referred to by the simple beings of Faerun. Tav had called them that. They had judged her for ending them. As it was some kind of immoral thing to do. It did not matter what they thought of her. Lae’zel did not expect such a fragile creature to understand the way of the Gith. She had unquestionably followed her schooling under the stern guidance and unwavering (“cruel”?) tutelage of her instructor and as a result had excelled.

Her thirst for knowledge only barely equaled her lust for blood and besides her intense and daily training, she found time and interest to roam her crèche’s library. She had read many books about the other planes, other races, other histories; there was no tomes left untouched, no page left unturned. By the time she had left her crèche she had been sure she knew enough about Ghaik, and the outside world to properly operate it.

She had been wrong; but no one would ever hear her admit to it.

She was truly thankful to have found Tav. That she would never admit either. Despite their lenience and their abhorrent preference for diplomacy over efficient offensive, they had proven time and time again to be an adequate leader. Without them, she would have probably struggled to navigate comfortably around the area. The tieflings would have been easy enough to handle but a waste of energy to deal with, especially given the presence of many other foes such as the goblins, gnolls and her own people who had turned on her.

Their traveling companions, however, were a liability to say the least. A bundle of weaklings, pernicious and lying to cover their own hind. Not a hint of bravery and battle prowess safe for the giant fiery Tiefling who despite her combat skills was too naive and kind for her own good.

The worst of them being the wizard. Not able to lift a sword with his puny arms and constantly yapping about anything that flourished in his human head. It seemed to be flooded by never ending thoughts given how he would consistently share them with everyone.

And yet that night, Lae’zel thoughts could not stray away from him.

She could not stop thinking about their last fight.

----------------------------------------------------------

In the early hours of the morning, the group entered the shadow-cursed lands, a territory more dire than Lae’zel had anticipated. Their exploration of the area led them to a secluded corner. The terrain was difficult, the vegetation, untamed and arid creeping and piercing soles and skin. Lae’zel froze an instant. She thought she saw one of the bushes move.

She did.

Fast and ferocious, a horde of shambling mounds and needle blights ambushed them. Isolated from the rest of the group as she often was, walking in the front line, Lae’zel fell at the mercy of the thorny and poisonous vines. Before she could draw her sword, a knotty branch struck her across the cheek, missing her eye by only a few millimeters. The whip of a vine seized her wrist as she was reaching for the pommel of her weapon. With great force, she was pulled to the ground. She hit her head hard. Prone on the floor for a second too long, the sharp and unforgiving thistle of a cursed sapling hung above her head, ready to pierce through her skull.

A booming voice broke through the never ending night of the cursed land.

Lae’zel could not take her eyes off the wizard, awed by this vision of raw power and ruthlessness.

A massive fire ball flew across the air, brushing past her, warming her skin in its path, before crashing in the enemies, set ablaze, growling and withering into piles of charcoal and ashes.

Lae’zel turned to see Gale. Eyes sharp and focused, brow furrowed, sweat pearling on his temple, hands and arms tight, finger dancing in the air. Pulling strands of weave he summoned the elements from the void of inexistence. A lighting bolt smited the foes down with a crack of thunder as low as his voice.

----------------------------------------------------------

The vision replayed in her head as she stirred in a bed roll. She tossed and turned until she couldn't take it any longer. She escaped the constraint of her sheets and furiously stomped towards the wizard’s tent. She entered the pavilion and paused to gaze at the man at her feet, his face serene, in deep slumber. How dared he sleep so peacefully when he had cast such a vicious spell on her.

She kneeled down and shook him indelicately. Gale woke up with a startled grunt and an alarmed expression etched on his face. His eyes darted around before they got used to the dark and settled on the githyanki bending over him.

“Lae’zel? What’s going on?” He asked puzzled, his voice hoarse from sleep.

“You have infected me wizard.” She hissed.

At these words Gale looked even more confused than a moment ago. Lae’zel enraged as he laid his brown, warm eyes on her. She wanted to strangle the fool; maybe then she could graze her hands against the soft brush of his beard.

“You have invaded my thoughts. More than the ghaik parasite prowling around in my skull. More than the lich queen Vlaakith who shaped my mind and soul. I close my eyes and it is you that I can only ever see. It is your face that appears to me when my mind wanders.”

Gale's breath itched. His chest heaved with audible sighs betraying an elation that she desperately shared. A pink shade flushed his cheek and his mouth stretched into the faintest of smiles as he stared at Lae’zel expectantly. She wanted to bite these grotesque lips of his; she wondered how they would look moist and glistening in blood.

“I wish nothing more than to cure myself of this affliction you caused in me.” She continues.

She suddenly stood up, she towered over the mage, fist around her sword, the white of her knuckles a telltale of her determination. Gale recoiled and murmured something to himself. In a flash, a gleaming golden halo enveloped his body. Whether he knew where this was going or not, his first reflex had been to protect himself. Good. That would prove smart for him.

“Up!” Lae’zel ordered.

Hesitant and refusing to move, Gale was scrutinizing her, attentive to the slightest movement, the smallest twitch that could start it all. He reminded her of a deer caught in the eyes of a wolf. That such a tender man was at the heart of her obsession. Revolting.

“What are we doing exactly?” He cautiously asked.

Lae’zel rolled her eyes. Talking, explaining, devising. He would never leave things unspoken. She would indulge him this time. If only to hear the sound of his pathetic voice: a music that made her stomach jump.

“We fight. I test you in battle. Bruise me so that you can possess me.” She snarled.

The pair remained immobile for a few seconds, not daring to move. The tension was growing tangible in the small tent. Gale squinted at her.

“Quite the predicament you’ve put me in tonight…” He whispered.

With a speed she did not foresee, he reached for his quarterstaff by the side of his bedroll and raised his hand in front of him. Lae’zel did not get the chance to move and was swept out of the tent by a wave of weave that sent her toppling to the ground outside.

The combat had started.

As she was collecting herself, the wizard ran out of the tent, flinging a firebolt at her. Back on her feet, Lae’zel dodged the fiery projectile and ran towards her target, her blade in hand held behind her to give it momentum. The blade swung in the empty air, cutting through a cloud of mist as Gale appeared a few feet behind her, already signing the next spell he was going to cast.

Before he could utter the necessary incantation, the warrior focused her psionic powers and sprung in the air. An extraordinary jump distracted the mage. In awe of such athletics he failed to realize the gap between had been bridged. Lae’zel struck him on the shoulder with the edge of her blade. Blood splattered on the floor. Gale dropped his staff and fell to his knees with a pained groan.

Lae’zel prepared to strike again. victory seemed to be hers.

She seized her sword with two hands and raised it high above her head. With a swift swing, the blade began its baneful descent towards the wizard. And then nothing happened. Despite all the might and will she could conjure, her arms hung in the air uselessly, her sword fixed mid-blow, never to finish the strike she had started. Incapable of moving the rest of her limbs nor her head, her eyes glanced to her feet with difficulty. A purple square was encasing her, shining a bright hue on the ground. Gale got back to his feet, wheezing, holding the gushing wound in an attempt to prevent blood from flowing out of it.

“Apologies, my love.” He breathed.

As he articulated the next spell, Lae’zel heart pounded, admiration and apprehension thumping in her core in unission. She braced herself and welcomed with tensed muscles the deflagration that engulfed her. The full force of the explosion hit her with a bone shattering impact yet could not make her budge out of her weave prison. She felt the flame lick her skin and the heat burn her lungs. Through the dancing red curtain she could see Gale, hand raised dousing the fire, a fine pellicule of snow leaving his palm and taming the flames.

As he released her from her magic trap, Lae’zel fell to the ground, exhausted, barely conscious. Gale quickly retrieved a healing potion from the camp storage chest nearby and rushed to her side. He uncorked the vial with his teeth while holding her up, and poured its content into her open mouth. Lae’zel felt her body mend itself from the wounds of her fight.

She reached out to the wizard arm and brushed a few fingers to the fabric of his clothes, damp with blood. She looked up to his eyes. His warmth was flooding her with joy. She knew she should feel ashamed from such a blatant defeat, yet she could not resist the surge of adoration that was filling her heart, threatening to explode in her chest.

“Are you ok?” He wearily inquired.

“You were incredible…” She replied.

Her finger trailed their way up from his blood-stained shoulder to find the soft threads of his beard. With the pad of her thumb she gently brushed his lower lip.

“ ‘You are mine’. Say the words.” She demanded.

Gale swallowed. He caressed her cheek with the back of his hand, gently wiping the blood and sweat off her skin. He tucked a strand of her hair away. His fingers delicately traced the lines and curves of her ear.

“You are mine.” He whispered.

Their lips met, with a shudder of euphoria swelling from one to the other. Under the starless night of the shadow-cursed lands they sealed their promise. For the first time, shivering under the touch of her lover, Lae’zel felt more than a desire to dominate, more than greed, more than lust. In Gale’s arm she felt pleasure and warmth. Joy and affection. Safety and peace.

Is that what they called “love”?

18 notes · View notes