#stone age monuments

[thesilicontribesman]

Balnuaran of Clava Prehistoric South West Chambered Cairn, nr. Inverness, Scotland

#ice age #stone age #bronze age #iron age #copper age #prehistoric #neolithic #prehistory #mesolithic #paleolithic #calcholithic #chambered cairn #clava cairns #archaeology #ritual #landscape #standing stones #monument #Scotland #outdoors #wild places #ancient cultures #ancient craft #ancient living

[lalunahollow]

This is very close to my home, along with many other such sites, but this one of my favourite hiking destinations, as I can walk litterly in a circle and get back to where I started and see at least three burial sites along the way.

This site dates back to the stone age and is absolutely breathtaking, and the clearing itself is extremely calm and serene

#bronze age #stone circle #heritage #bronze age graves #ancientmonuments #ancient history #ancient Scandinavia #4000 years old #tanum #west of Sweden #the forest behind my backyard #stone age #stone monument #i often take this walk

[illustratus]

Stonehenge, 2 May 1816 by Francis Etheridge

#francis etheridge #art #stonehenge #wiltshire #england #salisbury plain #megalithic #megalith #prehistoric #neolithic #structure #monument #bronze age #stones #british isles #britain #europe #european #clouds

[zsorosebudphoto]

Castell de Bellver, Palma de Mallorca, Mallora, 09-12-23

#Castell de Bellver #Palma de Mallorca #Mallora #09-12-23 #photography #photo #photographers on tumblr #aesthetic #aesthetics #illes balears #monumental #middle ages #stone #archway #architecture #castle #knight #knightcore

[ancientorigins]

Seemingly for 'likes' on Facebook, a man destroys a 4,500-year-old Bronze Age monument. Another tragic case of attention-seeking causing irreversible damage to our shared human heritage. The cost? Priceless history lost forever.

#vandalism #damaged #Wales #cup #stone #Bronze Age #monument #ancient #history #ancient origins

[everydayesterday]

photos: The Winter Solstice at Newgrange in County Meath. (Ireland's Content Pool).  sourced from Irish Central.

The Winter Solstice is an astronomical phenomenon that marks the shortest day and the longest night of the year. In the Northern Hemisphere, the Winter Solstice occurs on December 21 or 22, when the sun shines directly over the tropic of Capricorn.  It is the basis for many religious holidays around the world.  

At sunrise on the solstice, direct sunlight can enter the Newgrange monument—a large 5,000-year-old (older than Stonehenge and the Great Pyramid of Giza) Neolithic tomb structure built north of Dublin—through a specially contrived small opening above the entrance to illuminate the entry chamber for a short period of 17 minutes.  The monument is believed to be a place of worship for a “Cult of the Dead.”

#winter solstice #solstice #newgrange #newgrange monument #astronomy #astrology #december 21 #ireland #county meath #stone age #monument #world heritage site #tomb #temple #neolithic #megalithic #christmas #new year #winter #New Grange

[smbhax]

“All Saints' church, Laughton, anachronistic re-used monumental brass made circa 1405, of a knight wearing the style of armour worn at the Battle of Agincourt (1415), with Gothic-style canopy, serving as ledger stone for the remains of William Dalison[7] (died 1546), who lived well into the Renaissance age when the taste for the Gothic style had long passed.”

#monumental brass #monument #sepulchre #sepulchral memorial #memorial #laughton #england #west lindsey #lincolnshire #church #all saints church #1400s #knight #armor #ledger stone #william dalison #gothic #middle ages #renaissance

[anemoiacalling]

Newgrange

#newgrange #prehistoric monument #stone age #stone age builders #ireland #ancient ireland #neolithic

[realspacejunk]

Across the sprawling tapestry of our world, amidst the flat lands and forests, the mountains' solemn peaks, the rugged coasts, sprawling dunes and the silent depths of cavernous earth, there stand monuments of enigmatic grandeur. Reminders of a time forgotten, there lie scattered remnants of the bygone Age of Wonders, veiled in mystery and cloaked in the hushed secrets of heresy. These ruins, wrought of ethereal white stone intertwined with veins of golden and silver, stand as solemn sentinels to an era lost. Their works speak of skill and power beyond our reckoning, a testament to the ingenuity of minds now forever stilled. Tales among the learned speak of a people long vanished, a race of ancients known as the Nairim. Once, they walked beneath the god's golden light, their footsteps echoing through the halls of time, the wonders of their creation inspiring fairy tales of fools. Yet, lust for grandeur and folly marked their days, and they dared to defy the gods themselves, their ambition a flame that consumed them til their race was destroyed and their last bones became dust. They stand as a warning, a cautionary tale of betrail enshrined in words and tongue. To admire the ruins of the Nairim is to court the ire of powers long dormant, to stir the embers of forgotten evil. Thus the voices of the wise counsel against delving too deeply, against unravelling the threads of a past best left undisturbed and buried. Let the ruins of the Nairim, these Humans, stand as silent witnesses to the folly of their hubris, as testament to the fragility of mortal pride. Let them stand, and let us heed the lessons they impart, lest we too be consumed by the flames of our own hubris and the thoughts of heretical darkness.

Thalas the historian, History of the White Towers - Introduction to the Old Cultures of the Continent of Sands Fourth Age

#fantasy #art #pokemon #pokemon mystery dungeon #fantasy art #digital art #character #kritaart #pmd #heliolisk #ruins #ancient ruins

[quotesfrommyreading]

In his 1956 book The Marlinspike Sailor, marine illustrator Hervey Garrett Smith wrote that rope is “probably the most remarkable product known to mankind.” On its own, a stray thread cannot accomplish much. But when several fibers are twisted into yarn, and yarn into strands, and strands into string or rope, a once feeble thing becomes both strong and flexible—a hybrid material of limitless possibility. A string can cut, choke, and trip; it can also link, bandage, and reel. String makes it possible to sew, to shoot an arrow, to strum a chord. It’s difficult to think of an aspect of human culture that is not laced through with some form of string or rope; it has helped us develop shelter, clothing, agriculture, weaponry, art, mathematics, and oral hygiene. Without string, our ancestors could not have domesticated horses and cattle or efficiently plowed the earth to grow crops. If not for rope, the great stone monuments of the world—Stonehenge, the Pyramids at Giza, the moai of Easter Island—would still be recumbent. In a fiberless world, the age of naval exploration would never have happened; early light bulbs would have lacked suitable filaments; the pendulum would never have inspired advances in physics and timekeeping; and there would be no Golden Gate Bridge, no tennis shoes, no Beethoven’s fifth symphony.

“Everybody knows about fire and the wheel, but string is one of the most powerful tools and really the most overlooked,” says Saskia Wolsak, an ethnobotanist at the University of British Columbia who recently began a PhD on the cultural history of string. “It’s relatively invisible until you start looking for it. Then you see it everywhere.”

 —   The Long, Knotty, World-Spanning Story of String

#ferris jahr #the long knotty world-spanning story of string #history #prehistory #marine history #naval history #textiles #clothing #agriculture #architecture #sculpture #botany #ethnobotany #stonehenge #giza pyramid complex #moai #hervey garrett smith #saskia wolsak #string #rope

[thesilicontribesman]

The Rudston Monolith, Rudston, East Yorkshire

#ice age #stone age #bronze age #copper age #iron age #neolithic #mesolithic #calcholithic #paleolithic #prehistoric #prehistory #megalithic #megalith #monolith #monster #yorkshire #monument #ancient living #ancient cultures #archaeology #relic #stonework #churchyard

[illustratus]

Stonehenge by John Constable

#stonehenge #art #john constable #prehistoric #monument #salisbury plain #wiltshire #england #britain #british isles #stones #neolithic #bronze age #archaeology #europe #european

[zsorosebudphoto]

Padrão dos Descubrimentos, Lisboa, Portugal, 2-06-23

#Padrão dos Descubrimentos #Lisboa #Portugal #2-06-23 #age of sail #monument #monumental #stone #sculpture #fine arts #tw: colonialism #statue #photo #photography #photographers on tumblr #aesthetic #aesthetics

[dopescissorscashwagon]

Happy Wallace Wednesday! As dawn breaks through a misty morning in Stirling, the enduring spirit of Sir William Wallace stands sentinel atop The National Wallace Monument. This legendary figure of Scottish independence is immortalised in stone, sword raised high, overlooking the very lands he fought to free.

Wallace's tale is one for the ages: a common man turned knight who rallied his countrymen against English oppression at the end of the 13th century. His most renowned victory at the Battle of Stirling Bridge in 1297 became a symbol of national pride and resistance. Although he was ultimately captured and executed, his legacy is far from forgotten. In fact, it's etched into the very fabric of Scotland's history and identity.

This striking image captures more than just the chill of a foggy morning; it's a reminder of the resilience and enduring fight for freedom. Wallace's silhouette against the awakening sky is a powerful representation of Scotland's past and its continuous inspiration for the future. Let's take a moment to remember and honour the man behind the monument, the hero of Scotland

—Sir William Wallace. 🏴󠁧󠁢󠁳󠁣󠁴󠁿

📸 The Kilted Photographer @TheKilted.Photo

#The Kilted Photographer #Stirling #Wallace Wednesday #Wallace Monument #William Wallace #Scotland #The Kilted Photo #Visit Scotland #Scotland is Calling #@TheKilted.Photo

[floweroflaurelin]

So Pixlriffs’ finale is a masterpiece and I’m experiencing a lot of emotions right now ✨🌻✨

For my own reference I made a transcript of the monologue and thought I might as well share it! It's under the cut to avoid spoilers but the whole first 8ish minutes of his video are typed out. I recommend watching at least that much, if you haven’t yet, because it’s really something worth hearing.

We are not done.

Not yet.

Our stories do not begin here, and neither do they end. But before they fade into obscurity, as so many events do, there is one more story left to be told.

[It is the Story

of

the World.]

It’s important to remind ourselves that history is an account of events remembered—and there are so few left who remember, so it mingles with myth and hearsay, folklore and fireside stories. This is the account of just one man, and others may recall the tale differently. Others still may decide to change the narrative to suit their own ends. And this, it must be said, is no bad thing. So it goes.

[Sun setting

over

our Creation.]

—

In a long-lost age before records truly began, our world was built by Titans (or so it is said). The lands they created became home to people who would seek to emulate and even to surpass that act of creation, and that would eventually bring about their destruction. But destruction is simply part of a cycle. Nothing is ever truly lost.

Those who foresaw the destruction fled before it could bring the walls of their homes down around them. And many who had been downtrodden and overlooked saw it as their chance to find a new life for themselves.

Thus began a great migration, leaving behind the old nations of the world and striking out for somewhere new, a life untethered from the follies of their former state. And though the road was long and treacherous, and many fell behind in the wake of such an awful endeavour, new bonds were forged in the fires of adversity.

As time passed, and more joined the great caravan, the host became a nation of its own, a glorious congregation sharing one purpose, singing the same resolute song. Though the road was long, they were homeward bound.

And a home they found nestled in a mountainous landscape, one that might have been carved by the very bones of the gods themselves. There they planted roots, drank deep from the water, and continued to grow. The farmers sowed new fields and raised new flocks. The work of many hands turned to building a new city. And together the architects conceived a castle upon a great plateau that would stand as a monument to their past apart and their future together. To them, the castle itself would tell the Story of the World.

Stone-whisperers from Mythland and the Grimlands, well-versed in masonry of all kinds, sculpted its walls from the abundant rock of the nearby mountains quarried for the glory of their new capital. They wrought rock and iron, carved and timbered their great halls, and raised mighty towers to stand atop the grand cliff.

The mages of the Crystal Cliffs brought knowledge of magic and the beauty of gemstones, and theirs was the sanctum at the heart of the castle, ever-seated at the Ruler’s left hand: their shield and protector.

A tribute was raised to Gilded Helianthia, whose ruler was still revered in the hearts and minds of many, and in time she became their warden against the spectres of the past, carrying the twin burdens of light and shadow on her shoulders; a burden with which the people of Rivendell were all too familiar.

And below, far below, the engineers of Pixandria sought to reproduce the jewel of their empire. A mechanism that would surpass the work of the Copper King himself.

Not all who came to found the Ancient Capital remained for long. Like dandelion seeds, the people of the Overgrown were scattered on the wind, alighting on the mountaintops and valleys. The vast majority of them came to settle in the rolling meadows of Chromia, which was renowned for the richness and beauty of its dyes for lifetimes after.

In the absence of their king, the nation of Mezelea resettled in new badlands, establishing laws and ordinances of their own. Many of them had been armour stands before the king imbued them with life, and some found this a hard habit to shake.

The people of the Cod and Ocean empires, bereft of the waters that gave them life, took to diving in the rocky pools of vast caverns and their affinity for stone grew. Over many generations they adapted, becoming the green-skinned race that folk came to know as goblins—their pointed ears the only remaining vestige of the fins they had once had.

For the gnomes of the Undergrove, this was a homecoming! They had long dwelled here before their exodus through the Nether and the fairy circles of the Evermoore welcomed them with open arms.

And the villagers of the Lost Empire, hiding in plain sight amongst the caravan of peoples, sought to find a place where they would be unburdened by this facade of humanity, standing at last on their own two feet.

But the boundaries of this land were ever-changing, and the nations soon found the cataclysm they had left behind had weakened the walls between their world and others. Waters rose and fell unpredictably; incursions from other realms were possible, bringing chaos in their wake. The tide of history churned and rippled.

None now remember how the Capital fell, only that its remains have lasted: an epitaph to all they had achieved together.

And just like before, new nations would arise. The pirates of Eversea ruled the waters from their secret cove. The inventors of Cogsmeade arrived sailing in from the air on their skyships—only to find whole buildings floating in the golden kingdom of Stratos. Rumours abounded of a Sanctuary hidden in the deepest jungle for those who knew the way.

Their tales are better told by those who knew them well. Our stories do not begin here, and neither do they end. But for this tired historian, it is perhaps best to leave these things in the past and begin to look towards the future.

For whatever comes next, we who have sown the seeds can only hope for a bountiful harvest.

#empires smp #pixlriffs #empires spoilers #empiresblr #empires s2 #empires pixlriffs #transcript #CHILLS. ACTUAL CHILLS. #this set fireworks off my brain btw. I want to make all the things right now #im busy at the moment but I will make things! I will! I must!

[eideticmemory]

BEAST OF BURDEN | MATTHEW GRAY GUBLER

When your boyfriend shows up unannounced, it seems like the biggest inconvenience in the world. But it might just be exactly what you need.

Word Count: 2.4k

Warning/Includes: A little age gap cause that’s my thing and smut :)

This fic is dedicated to all of Matthew’s virgo placements.

You are reading out loud to yourself. Your fingertips press to your temple, your eyes burn red from the dim florescent lighting and the small text on every page. A faint whisper of insanity: After transient vasoconstriction (lasting only for seconds), arteriolar vasodilation occurs, resulting in locally increased blood flow and engorgement of the down-stream capillary beds. This vascular expansion is the cause of redness (erythema) and warmth characteristics of acute -

It is 2 in the morning and your phone goes off and it not only interrupts your train of thought and your place in reading, but your music as well. Matthew’s name flashes on the screen and you exhale a heavy, tired sigh and put your face in your hands.

“Hello?”

“Hello?” he sounds panicked. “Where are you?”

“What the hell? I’m at the library, where are you?”

Silence. “You’re at the library?”

“Yeah?”

“You’re not home?”

“No,” you are annoyed now. “Where are you?”

There is more silence. It is longer and heavier and Matthew says, “I’m at your place.”

And for some reason, this puts you in motion. You have not moved in hours and your bones crack but it does not slow you down. Packing up your bag, you try to keep your voice down, “You’re what?”

“I’m at your place. I brought flowers.”

“Matthew, what the hell?” you say, but it is more to yourself than him.

“Let me come pick you up from the library,” he offers. “I can be there in 10.”

“I’ll walk, it’s not that far.”

“No, it’s dark, I’m already in the car. Just hang tight, baby.”

You roll your eyes and take a seat with a huff, plopping down so hard that the table rattles and along with it goes your brain. Matthew says he’ll be there in 10 but he makes it with three minutes to spare and you walk out to the car, hiking your bag up on your shoulder. When you get in, he is smiling at you but you do not have a smile to return and you recline in your seat. He thinks you are asleep for the entire drive, and to him, that makes sense. To him, it’s no big deal. He just wants to take you home and tuck you into bed.

Though when you arrive at your apartment, he is jolted to see you hop out of the car. He doesn’t think you’ll wait for him before you walk in, but you do. You unlock the door and push your way inside and the door nearly hits him in your wake.

“You’re upset,” he says and you really feel like you could lose it.

You drop your bag to the ground and it causes a monumental echo throughout the room. You turn around and Matthew is too timid to fully enter the space, cowering by the front door.

“You’re observant,” you tell him.

“I fucked up,” he says this like a statement. It carries and contains all accountability.

“Hmm,” you tilt your head, pucker your lips. “I wouldn’t say you fucked up. I would say…you didn’t think.”

“I was worried about you,” you see his face soften. “I hadn’t seen you in so long and you weren’t really replying to my calls or texts and you sounded so stressed on the phone.”

“Because I was studying? I told you that? I don’t understand how you ended up here.”

“I ended up here because I got on a plane and came to see you. I just want to help.”

“But I don’t need your help,” you put extra emphasis on the e. “I don’t want your help, I told you that.”

“Okay, so, I don’t have to help. But I can be here, I-I can cook and clean, I can drive you places, I can-“

And he rambles as you murmur, “Matthew…Matthew, no,” running your hands over your face, wishing you could peel your skin off the bone. “No!”

He goes silent. His arms fall to his sides in defeat, and he looking at you like you’ve just shot him in the chest.

“I told you not to come, jesus fucking christ. You think just because I’m your girlfriend and you’ve lived over a decade longer than me that I can’t take care of myself? I have been a student longer than I’ve been your girlfriend, I don’t need you to run to my rescue. What I needed was to sit in the library until god knows the fuck when, stick my head in my notes and figure the shit out!”

“You’re right,” is all he can say. “I’m sorry. I can leave.”

“No. No, you’re here now. It’s late. Stay.”

“Such a warm invitation.”

“Please. Please do not get smart right now.”

“Can I sleep in your bed at least? Or is that too distracting? I can sleep on the porch?”

“Then sleep on the porch, Matthew,” you throw your arm up. “Sleep in the kitchen, I don’t care.”

“What are you doing?” he asks, his eyebrows furrowing as he watches you sit on the couch.

“I’m finishing my work,” you say, and then you give him this look like are-you-fucking-dumb?

“It’s almost 3 in the morning.”

“No, really?” you quip.

“When was the last time you slept?”

“You’ve got to be kidding me.”

He walks over to you, puts his fingers under your chin and tilts your head up. You don’t mean to make eye contact, and you only do for a mere second, then you are pushing his hand away and watching it ball into a quick fist.

“You need to sleep.”

“No, I don’t actually, I just need to be left alone.”

He looks at you for a long time. Your clenched jaw, your shaky knee, your frazzled hair and face drained of color. But you don’t look at him. Not too much in the mood to. He sighs and he leans down and kisses the top of your head. When he walks back to your bedroom, you feel like you can breathe and you let the air escape your chest.

You could cry, but that would waste time.

Matthew falls face first into your bed. He’s always been too big for it so he has to shrink himself to fit, bending his knees and laying on his side. He groans to himself, has his face buried in your pillow and the dark is so comforting. The lamp light blinds his eyes as he reveals his face and the first thing he can focus on is the picture on your nightstand. He is holding you in his arms, your back against his chest and his lips against your cheek. Your smile is big, it takes up your whole face.

He could cry, but there’s no point.

He gets under the covers and tries to fall asleep. He always jokes about how much more comfortable your bed is than his. Tonight it feels like he is laying on a pile of bricks and he realizes it is only comfortable when you’re in it.

He falls asleep just shy of four in the morning. The sun isn’t set to rise for another four hours and it’s the pitch black in the room that helps him sleep. It is only when the sun is bright enough to shine through the curtains that he starts to stir. His face scrunches up and he rolls over to escape the light and his arm rolls right over you. He is suddenly wide awake and conscious of his body on yours. He leans away slowly and you don’t move and he thinks you’re asleep.

And would you believe that he is just relieved you’re asleep? This wave of peace just rushes over him from head to toe and he goes to get out of bed because he’d like to make you breakfast. But just as he sits up, just as he’s about to put his feet to the floor, he notices a book beside your head. Not a tiny book, but a large textbook. Your face is buried between the hardback covers and Matthew just has a gut feeling to ask, “Are you awake?”

When you don’t respond, he hovers over you, “[y/n],” he says. “Are you awake?”

And slowly you reveal your face from the pages of the book. Your eyes are so red, part of him expects them to just shatter like glass. He lifts up the blanket and gasps to see pens and pads of sticky notes lining the side of your body. “I just woke up,” you lie.

“And now you’re lying about being awake?”

“Matthew, get off my ass,” you groan. “How are you annoying first thing in the morning?”

Matthew snatches the book out of your hands and you shout, “Hey!” He swipes the jumbled mess of pens and paper off of the bed, and under the covers, he slides his way between your legs. “Are you psychot-“

His hand falls over your mouth and it brings you to a complete and muffled halt. Your eyes go big, round, alert, and Matthew says, “You really need to shut up.”

You go cross eyed trying to hold eye contact with him, the tip of his nose pressed against yours just lightly. “You are tense, and exhausted, and it’s making you mean.” At this point, you are hyper aware of the feeling of his torso between your bare thighs, his fingers sliding under the hem of your underwear. “I appreciate that you’re independent, it’s one of the many reasons I’m so obsessed with you, and I promise to never, ever pull some shit like this again, but you need a stress reliever, so right now, here’s what’s going to happen.” The fabric of your underwear rolls in on itselfs, Matthew pulling them down your legs, kissing your neck as you straighten your legs to get them off.

“You’re gonna turn that big, beautiful brain of yours off,” he whispers, and never in your life has eye contact with him been so intense. His other hand comes up to his mouth then promptly slides between your legs, where he grabs his cock and presses it against your clit. “You’re gonna relax your body and just focus on me. Yeah?”

You give him a slow and submissive nod, your eyelids lowering as you look at him. “Yeah,” he whispers, and he has this real sly, small smile as he rolls his hips, pushes his cock into you. Your eyes roll back and you give a small hum against the palm of his hand. “Feel me inside of you?”

“Mhm,” you nod, your hands gripping onto the sheets of the bed.

“Mhm, there you go, baby. Just relax, just let me do all the work,” he says in your ear and you feel his body moving on top of you, the warmth of his chest on yours. He steadies his body so he can angle himself inside of you, drive his hips into yours with enough force to shake the bed.

Your breath quickens and you get lightheaded from lack of oxygen. Your lips vibrate against Matthew’s hand, for every quiet moan that steadily increases in volume. Small, quick gusts of air come in through your nose and this bubble builds in your body with every thrusts. Your toes curl and your kness bend around his waist and when Matthew feels your jaw drop, he removes his hand and relishes in the sound you make. A whiny, frail moan that is loud enough to shake the walls.

“Oh, good girl,” he moans and he gives you a sloppy kiss. “That’s it.”

Sweat beads on your face and your hand flies to his hair, takes a fistful of it in its grasp. He keeps himself quiet because he wants to hear you. He uses only a fraction of his strength to pound into you, running his thumb along your bottom lip and nibbling on your jaw. His fingers trail over your open mouth, and his forehead presses into your temple.

You get whiny and whimpers drabble from your lips, involuntary, uncontrollable. It fuels Matthew, almost. His breath is hot on your face and he can’t stop himself from telling you, “You feel so good, ah, fuck, my babygirl.”

He watches as your eyes roll towards your brain and he grunts when your nails dig into his bicep. And for a moment, you’re not sure what’s happening. It is entirely unlike you to come so quickly, to even get to edge within a few minutes, but it’s happening.

Involuntary, uncontrollable.

And now more than ever, Matthew’s just trying to get you there. He moves into you a little bit rougher than he means to, his hand sprawls out across your hip, and he holds you down to keep you from squirming too much.

When his fingers find their way to your mouth, you bite down on them. The tension in your mouth is enough to draw blood but you can’t keep your mouth closed. Your throat is raw and it closes around every sound you make, your moans aligning with each movement of Matthew’s hips.

You wrap your arms around his shoulders and gasp in his ear. And for all the comotion - the bed squeaking, his heavy breathing, the headboard against the wall - he can only hear you. He can only focus on the stress leaving your bone and the way your voice keeps going up, and up, and up, and up. Until this climactic uproar directly from your chest. Underneath the noise of your screams, he’s telling you, “There ya’ go, baby. Let it out, let it out.”

Your eyes are wide, and your whole body fills with tension just to release it all. Your legs and toes point, curl and fall to the mattress. Your jaw locks up and you’re left with an open mouth and a string of soft, small moans falling from your lips. Matthew kisses you as soon as you catch your breath, with your head squished between his hands.

When he rolls off of you, he perches himself on his side, supporting his head with his hand and staring at you. Your eyes have fallen shut and you are splayed out on the bed. Motionless.

He runs his fingertips along your arm, “Feel better?”

“Mmmm-hm,” you hum.

“Good,” he smiles. “Are you still mad at me?”

When you don’t voice a response, Matthew looks over and notices that you have fallen asleep. Truly, asleep. He grins to himself and he gives you a kiss on the forehead. “Sleep tight,” he whispers. “You beautiful, insane woman.”

#mine #matthew gray gubler #matthew gray gubler x reader #matthew gray gubler smut #Spotify