#the three brujas

[emiliawildolsen]

Things I saw last spring

#new mexico #land of enchantment #love letters from my favorites folder #georgia o'keeffe #road trip #white sands #ghost ranch #anchor #the three brujas

[365filmsbyauroranocte]

Three Witches Sculpture.

Three witches fly towards the coven carrying their black cat, brooms, and six secrets to discover. Handcrafted in marble resin, finished with acrylics and wax patina. 

Available at Etsy. Click here!

#Arte Feudo #sculpture #toy art #art toy #witch #witches #three witches #witchcraft #cat #black cat #magic #resin figure #Halloween #fantasy art #horror art #bruja #brujas #Tomás Hijo #illustration #statue #witch sculpture #witches sculpture

[theskyexists]

This is maybe the best ending on any anime I’ve ever seen. Gundam Witch From Mercury is shaping up to be one of my favourite anime ever. Top three.

#pmmm was always first #mob was a strong second #el cazador de la bruja a personal favourite at three #but i guess this has come in to replace any one of these #well not pmmm #genuinely....it does its 'anime tropes TWIST into a KNIFE' so well and playing them straight in a realistic world love it love it #theres yuri there are pretty boys theres character development theres plots that actually seem sensible #theres amazing animation theres people who know what theyre doing at the writing desk #i just need the economo-babble to be...uh... a reflection of a real system #my stuff #gundam #the witch from mercury #i just wanted to share bc nobody in my real life will appreciate #and if you havent seen the show it doesnt hit as hard #im starting to like.....giant robots #as a concept.....

[conceiteddemon]

I do love how the fandom thought Camila was Normal(tm) but now that we have gotten more of her it’s been revealed that she’s just as weird as the rest of Luz’s friends and family. Like this woman was in an energy drink pyramid scheme for three years. She beat up a conspiracy theorist with la chancla. She discovered that her daughter had been replaced by a snake shifter and went ‘oh sweet two daughters’. She keeps a closet in her basement filled with cosplays and fandom memorabilia. She scheduled her wisdom teeth surgery the DAY BEFORE her wedding. The fact that she gave her baseball bat a little kiss and yelled ‘BRUJA TOSS’ before attacking the demon attempting to kill her daughter. She left her other daughter back home to impersonate herself as soon as Vee suggested it. Truly the most Mom of all time

#toh #toh spoilers #the owl house spoilers #the owl house #camila noceda

[starrynights-sunnyskies]

as the flowers bloom, my heart does too ⋆*·ﾟmisa rodriguez x putellas!reader, social media au, (2/6)

⋆*·ﾟ⋆*·ﾟ⋆*·ﾟ⋆*·ﾟ⋆*·ﾟ⋆*·ﾟ

when your relationship ends and all you want to do is hide and cry, flowers suddenly start to appear on your doorstep.

or; misa hating to see a pretty girl cry and suffer and going out of her way to cheer her up while staying anonymous

fic: coming

⋆*·ﾟ⋆*·ﾟ⋆*·ﾟ⋆*·ﾟ⋆*·ﾟ⋆*·ﾟ

yourusername: here's to being free & having the best girlfriends in the entire world 💅🏽 Liked by ingridengen, begovargas, alexiaputellas and 1,193 others

○○○○○○○

bff1 ilysm 😫 liked by yourusername ↳ bff1 admit it, im your favourite  ↳ yourusername only when you don't talk

albaps9 but not a singular gf (yet) ↳ yourusername bruja🖕

bff2 Three seconds before the chair fell backwards ↳ yourusername i had the softest fall ever 🙃

bff3 sistaaaars 👩‍👩‍👧‍👧 ↳ yourusername amuck amuck amuck ↳ bff1 who are the two little ones in the front? ↳ bff2 You're one of them, ofc ↳ bff1 because of my height?? ↳ yourusername hey, if the shoe fits 🤷‍♀️

⋆*·ﾟ⋆*·ﾟ⋆*·ﾟ⋆*·ﾟ⋆*·ﾟ⋆*·ﾟ

↳ 1h ago: yourusername added to their story

⋆*·ﾟ⋆*·ﾟ⋆*·ﾟ⋆*·ﾟ⋆*·ﾟ⋆*·ﾟ

↳ 10min ago: albaps9 added to their story

⋆*·ﾟ⋆*·ﾟ⋆*·ﾟ⋆*·ﾟ⋆*·ﾟ⋆*·ﾟ

↳ 54secs ago: yourusername just added to their story ↳ 31secs ago: yourusername just added to their story ↳ 12 secs ago: yourusername just added to their story

⋆*·ﾟ⋆*·ﾟ⋆*·ﾟ⋆*·ﾟ⋆*·ﾟ⋆*·ﾟ

tagged: albaps9 yourusername: here's to having the best sister(s) in the entire world and having the worst ex (read: don't bother me again😊) Liked by: albaps9, alexiaputellas, laurafreigang and 899 others

○○○○○○○

albaps9 still think you should've burned those roses ↳ yourusername they were innocent 😭 ↳ albaps9 also, next dinner's on you liked by yourusername ↳ yourusername i love you.

bff1 girlie that third one! 💅🏽 ↳ yourusername 😇

bff2 Do you have leftovers bc then i'm coming over tomorrow ↳ yourusername no but pls come, we can order in!! ↳ bff3 can I come over too? 🥺 ↳ yourusername duh 🥺 ↳ bff1 umm, helloooo? me? ↳ yourusername 🤣

bff2 Don't think your ex survived this burn btw liked by yourusername ↳ albaps9 one less shithead taking up space!

alexiaputellas Hermanita ❤️ liked by yourusername ↳ yourusername te quiero

marialeonn16 Another godly plate of 🍝 ↳ yourusername it really was 😭 ↳ marialeonn16 Invite me next time 🤬 ↳ yourusername i'll text you the restaurant so you can take ingrid!!

*·ﾟ⋆*·ﾟ⋆*·ﾟ⋆*·ﾟ⋆*·ﾟ⋆*·ﾟ

marisabel_rguez: Having fun 😁🙃 Liked by haleyraso, asllani9, sofie.svava and 15,289 others

○○○○○○○

haleyraso 💪🏼 liked by marisabel_rguez

yourusername i think this is first time i've seen you smile on the field 🧐 ↳ marisabel_rguez Maybe you just haven't watched me play enough! ↳ yourusername did you at least save the ball? ↳ marisabel_rguez Of course! 😉 ↳ yourusername i'll believe it when i see it ↳ marisabel_rguez Challenge accepted! 😎

signebruun20 🐑 ↳ olgacarmona7 that's a sheep ↳ carolinemoller_ beeee 🐐

username1 Um, hi, hello, can't be the only one seeing this? ↳ username2 misa finally not getting ignored by little putellas? and getting FLIRTED with? ↳ username3 🤣 ↳ username4 That's playful banter in my book ↳ username2 tomato tomato ↳ username1 me thinking something happened when they all went out the other day for them to acknowledge each other now 👉👈 ↳ username4 Tone it down, this is yn's first time commenting ↳ username3 exactly, which means the u-haul truck is coming next 🤣

*·ﾟ⋆*·ﾟ⋆*·ﾟ⋆*·ﾟ⋆*·ﾟ⋆*·ﾟ

yourusername: aaaand the mystery continues. Liked by janafernandez3, albaps9, marialeonn16 and 1,002 others

○○○○○○○

salmaparalluelo Note?? ↳ yourusername no 😔

albaps9 how can someone who's single make ME feel SINGLE???

jennihermoso I've been way too invested in this for weeks now 😂

marisabel_rguez 😮🌸

bff1 i think i know 😏 ↳ bff2 SPILL ↳ bff1 texts!! ↳ albaps9 let me in on this?? ↳ yourusername how about you tell ME first? ↳ bff1 honestly woman, how haven't you figured it out yet?

janafernandez3 This is still way too cute 😊 liked by ingridengen

marialeonn16 Getting closer and closer to the shovel talk 😈 ↳ alexiaputellas What are you talking about 🤨

*·ﾟ⋆*·ﾟ⋆*·ﾟ⋆*·ﾟ⋆*·ﾟ⋆*·ﾟ

↳ 31min ago: yourusername added to their story

*·ﾟ⋆*·ﾟ⋆*·ﾟ⋆*·ﾟ⋆*·ﾟ⋆*·ﾟ

marisabel_rguez: Happy with the points. Focus on the next game ⚽️🤛😁 Liked by realmadridfem, yourusername, atheeneeaa_10 and 15,299 others

○○○○○○○

yourusername alright, you won the challenge ↳ marisabel_rguez What's my prize? ↳ yourusername bragging rights! 😚 ↳ marisabel_rguez ☹️ liked by yourusername

username1 I KNEW I SAW YN!! ↳ username2 she was there?? ↳ username1 Yeah, sitting in the family section but she was wearing sunnies and a cap ↳ username3 Why was she trying to be incognito tho? ↳ username4 never mind why she was, why was she THERE? at a REAL MADRID match?? when her family BREATHES barça??? ↳ username1 excuse my surprised pikachu face ↳ username2 probably why she was incognito then 😅 💙💔💛 ↳ username5 never mind why she was there, why are they FLIRTING in the comment section??? AGAIN? ↳ username6 that's not flirting 🤣 ↳ username4 shut up, debby downer

ivanaandres5 🙌

signebruun20 🐐

carolinemoller_ 🐐 ↳ signebruun20 copycat 😤 ↳ carolinemoller_ beeeee 🐑

*·ﾟ⋆*·ﾟ⋆*·ﾟ⋆*·ﾟ⋆*·ﾟ⋆*·ﾟ

↳ 8min ago: marisabel_rguez added to their story

*·ﾟ⋆*·ﾟ⋆*·ﾟ⋆*·ﾟ⋆*·ﾟ⋆*·ﾟ

↳ 48secs ago: marisabel_rguez just added to their story

*·ﾟ⋆*·ﾟ⋆*·ﾟ⋆*·ﾟ⋆*·ﾟ⋆*·ﾟ

yourusername: barça, i fall in love with exploring you every day ✨ Liked by marisabel_rguez, alexiaputellas, liekemartens and 1,203 others

○○○○○○○

liekemartens I miss it and I miss you! ↳ yourusername me too, come back soon. bring your hubby 😘

marisabel_rguez 📸🤝

marisabel_rguez ❤️ liked by yourusername

username1 misa 👀 liked by 120 others

begovergas Barça adventure when? ↳ yourusername i'm free in three weeks! ↳ begovargas Texts! 😙

jafahernandez3 The best city 😊 liked by yourusername

ingridengen 💘 liked by yourusername

*·ﾟ⋆*·ﾟ⋆*·ﾟ⋆*·ﾟ⋆*·ﾟ⋆*·ﾟ

marisabel_rguez: Royalty. Liked by yourusername, bff2, alexiaputellas and 14,596 others

○○○○○○○

username1 Am I seeing double?

username2 same locations, no? ↳ username3 😮👀

jennihermoso You forgot your crown 👑 liked by marisabel_rguez

alexiaputellas Next time you're around, visit us! ↳ marisabel_rguez I will! 😅

yourusername 📸🤝 liked by marisabel_rguez

yourusername i think i've been in that place before! 🤨 liked by marisabel_rguez and 50 others

bff1 Loved meeting you 🤩 This comment is no longer available liked by marisabel_rguez ↳ bff2 SCAT! SCOOT! SCRAM! SKIDDOO! ↳ bff3 "why doesn't anyone ever tell my anything?": 😑

*·ﾟ⋆*·ﾟ⋆*·ﾟ⋆*·ﾟ⋆*·ﾟ⋆*·ﾟ

tagged: alexiaputellas, fridolinarolfo, sanpanos yourusername: guess it was about time i got my first tattoo together with my three favourite mr gadgets to keep me company 😍 Liked by marisabel_rguez, bff3, fridolinarolfo and 1,693 others

○○○○○○○

marisabel_rguez 😯🔥 liked by yourusername ↳ marisabel_rguez Really curious now!! ↳ yourusername 😌 ↳ marisabel_rguez 😣 ↳ yourusername it's not really in a place for people i'm not close to This comment is no longer available ↳ yourusername which means you're one of the lucky few who'll ever get to see it This comment is no longer available

alexiaputellas And you didn't even flinch! 😁 ↳ yourusername you're acting as if i haven't always been the toughest putellas 😤 ↳ albaps9 🤣🤣🤣🤣🤣🤣 ↳ alexiaputellas 😂😆 ↳ yourusername 😪 ↳ alexiaputellas It's a really beautiful tattoo 😘 ↳ yourusername thank you ale 😊

albaps9 for the next one, i'll be thereeee! coming over as we speak to come and see it 😌 liked by yourusername

bff2 I legit love it so much 😔💔 liked by yourusername

marialeonn16 If you ever want another one... 🤝 liked by yourusername

ona.battle Ohh, what did you get! ↳ yourusername i'll send you a pic! 😇

bff1 pic pic pic! ↳ yourusername no nudes on this page 🙅‍♀️ ↳ bff1 ruins all the fun ↳ yourusername voyeur

*·ﾟ⋆*·ﾟ⋆*·ﾟ⋆*·ﾟ⋆*·ﾟ⋆*·ﾟ

realmadridfem: Misa Rodriguez is out of play due to illness and misses the next few matches. Get well soon! Liked by marisabel_rguez, haleyraso, olgacarmona7 and 9,248 others

○○○○○○○

marisabel_rguez Gracias ❤️ ↳ haleyraso Coming back stronger than ever, I bet 🤝 ↳ marisabel_rguez You got it 😁 liked by realmadridfem

username1 Get well soon, Misa!

username2 feel better 😔

ivanaandres5 Come back soon 🍵🍎

olgacarmona7 ❤️‍🩹❤️‍🩹❤️‍🩹

username3 shiiiit, noooo 😩

jennihermoso Better not miss national camp, missy! ↳ marisabel_rguez Not in the plans! What would you do without me? 😆 ↳ jennihermoso Have a lot less fun, that's for sure!

username4 well shit ↳ username5 Pretty sure her health is more important, no? ↳ username4 ofc, just mean she's important to real's success, too ❤️

carolinemoller_ Even goats need to rest from time to time!

sofie.svava Get better soon, champ!

*·ﾟ⋆*·ﾟ⋆*·ﾟ⋆*·ﾟ⋆*·ﾟ⋆*·ﾟ

yourusername: feeling sicky poo. flu is killing me. but i got sent flowers (thank you 😉), have leftover pizza (i can't taste) and the best of friends keeping me company (who i've tried to kick out bc else they will also be sick in 1-5 business days). Liked by mikkykiemeney, bff1, ingridengen and 982 others

○○○○○○○

salmaparalluelo you mean... flowers? ↳ yourusername yes... ↳ salmaparalluelo note??? ↳ yourusername 😶 ↳ salmaparalluelo OMG!!!??? ↳ albaps9 and i'm only hearing this right now because?? ↳ yourusername chill, i still don't know who it is ↳ albaps9 but the note?? ↳ yourusername was anonymous ): ↳ albaps9 what did it say? ↳ yourusername i'll text you.

ona.battle Feel better soon ☹️

username2 sus

username3 thaz suspicious 🧐 liked by 48 others

alexiaputellas Lots of water, veggies, sun and vitamins 👌 liked by yourusername ↳ yourusername okay 😭 ↳ alexiaputellas Mama's bringing soup for you three later! liked by bff2 ↳ bff1 give eli a smooch liked by alexiaputellas

username4 Sus!!!!

bff1 yk, they usually also call this the kissing disease but you do you, ig. liked by albaps9 ↳ albaps9 you're telling me... that...- ↳ bff1 yes 😗 ↳ bff2 OUT! 🥊

username5 🤨

marialeonn16 Get better soon, lil 'tellas! ❤️ liked by yourusername

esmeebrugts 🤕❤️‍🩹 liked by yourusername

username6 Anyone else connecting the dots???

patri8guijarro Que te mejores pronto 🤒 liked by yourusername

bff1 stop scrolling through insta, we're waiting 🙄 ↳ bff1 oh but maybe order some takeout while you're at it 😇 ↳ bff2 You're hungry AGAIN? ↳ bff1 we haven't had dessert???? ↳ bff3 Feeling so left out rn 💔 ↳ bff2 We can't all be in Barbados with a hot man 🤑 liked by bff3 ↳ bff3 Get well soon (in advance) lovelies 🤕 ↳ bff1 thank you! now go back and make us aunties 🤟 ↳ yourusername i'm going to put a leash on her one of these days ↳ bff2 Or one of those electric collars. Each comment, ZAP! Immediate shut up. Effective! ↳ bff1 ohhh i think i'd be into that ↳ bff3 I'm getting out of here!!!! Byeeee 🙄😘

username7 coincidence? i think tf not

aitanabonmati Que les vaya bien a todos. liked by yourusername

jennihermoso Feel better, little one! liked by yourusername

username8 lol not a flu exposing them 😂 liked by 134 others

Comments on this post are limited

*·ﾟ⋆*·ﾟ⋆*·ﾟ⋆*·ﾟ⋆*·ﾟ⋆*·ﾟ

↳ 25secs ago: yourusername just added to their story ↳ 15secs ago: yourusername just added to their story ↳ 4secs ago: yourusername just added to their story

Direct message from albaps9: open albaps9 wait what happened all of a sudden?? ↳ albaps9 are you okay? ↳ yourusername yea im good albs ↳ albaps9 bullshit, i'm coming over

*·ﾟ⋆*·ﾟ⋆*·ﾟ⋆*·ﾟ⋆*·ﾟ⋆*·ﾟ

#misa rodriguez x reader #misa rodriguez one shot #woso imagine #woso x reader #woso social media au

[sepherinaspoppies]

Only If For A Night (ii/?)

pairing: Dark! Book Aemond Targaryen x Modern! Reader

summary: In Dia De Los Muertos (Day of the Dead), she gets forcefully transported to Westeros and meets her favorite book character, Aemond 'One Eye'. She asks and begs for his help to send her back home after realizing this was a world she did not want to live in. Unknowingly to her, her favorite fictional man had already grown too attached to fully let her go.

warnings for this part: physical assault, derogatory behavior, mentions of rape, blood, violence, Aemond sorta unhinged in protection mode lol.

wc: 3,271

series masterlist

my masterlist

pt i

notes: lol so I've decided to make multiple chapters of this series I hope that's okay :)

When she was a little over the age of six, she remembers when her mama happened to be two hours late to pick her up from elementary school. She stood outside the school gates with her Hello Kitty backpack and her Bratz Dolls lunchbox in hand, waiting until she was the only kid left. 

When she was close to giving up and deciding to walk the fifteen minute walk home, a tall dark haired woman with sunglasses stood in front of her offering her a ride home. She was a bit hesitant at first, the woman was a complete stranger, yet the way she was dressed, elegant with an expensive buttoned green trench coat and a Chanel bag, made her wonder what harm could be done in taking up the kind offer. The woman looked rich enough to adopt a kid of her own and besides she was a woman, just like her mama. 

The woman must have seen the uncertain look in her face, resulting in her pulling out a Paleta Payaso out of her bag and saying she had more in her car if she simply followed. She remembers smiling and nodding, taking the woman’s hand while she unwrapped her favorite candy. 

Mere seconds before getting into the car, she heard her mama call out to her and before she had time to explain, the woman in the green trench coat was gone into thin air. The only trace of her was the chocolate marshmallow candy in her hand…

Don’t take candy from strangers! Her mama warned. Except she did. 

That occurrence that had been stored in her memory was what awoke her. There was a burn in her eyes as the sun’s rays hit directly at them from the window, blinding her vision. She wondered if her abuela intentionally opened up the blinds to get her ready for their usual mile walk around the plaza. 

Except, she received no response after the three times she had called her out. 

Odd. 

She gradually sat upright, wincing at the pain radiating throughout her back. Gods, how long did I sleep for? She mused before releasing a long yawn, stretching out the ache within her muscles. 

Immediately, she feels her stomach drop down to her feet as she takes in her surroundings. All at once she starts to recollect everything that Alyssandra did and said. 

The tea. The blood. The marigolds. The sapphire…

She ponders if all had been some sick cruel joke or a scam to steal some pesos out of her mercado bag. Unfortunately, she had none. Maybe ten pesos which basically converted into sixty cents. Not much could be bought from that. 

“Alyssandra?” She calls out, though it’s proven to be useless. It appeared that the cottage had no other occupants but herself. A series of spewed curses leaves her lips as she but all feels a strain in her back and neck. The saying of laying in a bed of rock, couldn’t be any more truer. 

After a few stretches and rubs to her neck, she begins her search for her belongings: her dress, her mercado bags, and her Fire and Blood book. But to her bewilderment, none of her stuff laid previously on where she saw them last. 

Everything of hers was gone. Or better yet, stolen by that bruja. Including her wallet, her groceries, her shoes, and even her bra and underwear. 

Great. Shoeless and commando it is. 

Without turning back, she exits the rustic cottage and tries to figure out some kind of explanation that didn’t sound implausible in the ears of her abuela. 

Adivina qué abuela, en lugar de tomar un uber fui estúpidamente a la casa de un extraño porque estaba lloviendo. Y una bruja me robó mis cosas y me drogó. Por eso estoy vestida así, sin tus compras y sin zapatos. (Guess what grandma, instead of taking an uber I stupidly went to a stranger 's house since it was raining. And a witchy woman stole my stuff and drugged me. So that's why i'm dressed like this, without your groceries, and without shoes)

The word ‘tonta’ lingered in her head with the same scolding tone as her abuela’s. Yea she was tonta alright. 

She figured with Alyssandra gone and the fact that she thieved her belongings, she sure would not miss a bundle of cempasuchiles from her garden. They were fresh and bright enough for the ofrenda and it was at least something she could bring back after being robbed. 

She uses the small mental notes as a guide to lure her back to the pueblo and halts halfway into the forest depicting two vital things into her surroundings. One, it was daytime without the residual wet smell one would distinguish after it rained. Two, the grass beneath her feet was free from moisture as if it had not rained and stormed one bit. 

Strange.

Instead, she smelled something faint amidst smoke and ash and something else she couldn’t quite identify. She shrugs, maybe someone left out the carne asada on the grill for far too long. (roasted meat)

The bundle of flowers in her hands nearly drops once she fully exits the forest, she expects to see the street that she had taken with Alyssandra but to her puzzlement she is met with an open field of uncut grass and hills that she had never seen before. 

As far as she knew the pueblo only had mountains. For a moment she thinks she took a wrong turn out, but she was certain this was the same very path that she followed Alyssandra to. However, curiosity turns into panic, when she spots a large gothic looking castle in the distance that resembles where a particular vampire, Dracula, lived in. 

Except this castle appeared to be in ruins or decaying and something told her that not only might have the Dracula resided in there but many ghosts as well. 

Where the fuck am I? 

It’s not long until she hears loud hoofs in the nearby distance, galloping closer and closer. She hides between a large tree and some bushes, covering up her mouth to restrain her heavy breathing and panting. 

She peeks through her shoulder, spotting three men high on their horses wearing some sort of armor medieval knights would wear. In the middle of their chests, a green surcoat was worn over their armor, a golden three headed dragon engraved in the center. 

A sigil. 

The marking was vaguely familiar from somewhere. Some place. Something. 

Through the corner of her eye, she sees all three men coming to a sudden halt. Not too far from where she hides, a middle aged man saunters with his head hung low examining thoroughly at the ground. He hums as his eyes find hers over the end of the trail of faint footsteps, giving her a cruel ‘I’ve got you’ tight lipped smile. 

Fuck. 

“Look at what we have here!” She gasps, the man grips her forearm impossibly tight, forcing her out of hiding into the views of the others. “We found ourselves a whore!” He whistles as the others laugh. “She’d be good use to us back at camp. Take her with,” Another man snickers. 

Rage seethes right through her, “No, let me go. I’m not a whore!” She sneers, pushing his hands away from her body as the man snarls and takes a hold of the roots of her hair but she is quick to act as she curls her hand into a fist socking him straight in the side of his nose. 

In that moment, she was thankful for learning such a bold move she mimicked from a Lucha Libre fight her cousins invited her to. (professional wrestling)

The man lets out a painful groan, holding a very bloody nose between his fingers, anger written all over his face. “You fucking bitch,” He hissed, using the back of his hand to slap her so brutally that it sends her directly to the dirt. 

A metallic taste swims around her mouth, no doubt her own blood and looking at the few drops on the grass all but confirms it. She hears the other men laughing and she feels too hazy and shocked by it all to continue to fight. 

“R’ ye done?” The man asks. She knows he is talking to her, and she looks up at him with furry eyes as she spits her blood against the top of his shoes as an answer. 

All four of them rode back in silence. They cut through most of the trees with ease, passing by other knights with the same sigil printed on their chest, circling around a large cliff that hoisted up the ruined castle. Those who were not guarding, hauled lines of other contrarily dressed knights over wagons. Most likely prisoners, she assumed. 

Gerald, whom she came to know as the knight who struck her, kept her securely bound with a knife to her throat as a warning to not try and fight him. She knew it was a foolish move to do so. But at some point, she deliberately pushed herself forward against the knife hoping this all had been some weird dream or hallucination that she could wake from.

But to her frustration, it surely was not.

Every single thing about this seemed odd… How did Alyssandra expect her to find a sapphire in this place? And where exactly had Alyssandra send her to? 

So far, she’d been led astray, drugged, displaced (to put it lightly), insulted and assaulted. And somehow, she knew her journey had only just begun. 

The smell of smoke and ash became more amplified as they barreled further up the cliff. She but all felt like a tiny ant amongst the rubble once the four of them arrived inside the castle’s gates. 

There were five towers in total, she counted, all of them tall but not equally the same height. Erosion was a plausible effect of why the castle was in ruins. However, as she looked closely it was quite clear that it was not caused by natural agents of wind or water but that of fire. 

But what kind of fire melts stone? 

They stopped near the stables, where more men similar to them sat on wooden benches either dining or sharpening their tools. Tents were set up near the most bizarre looking tree she had ever seen. It had eyes with what appeared to be blood pouring out them, leaves that looked like hands waving to her as the branches pendulated.  

“Move,” The guard said after he carried her off the mount. She glanced at her possible options of routes for escape. Not many were good enough for a safe return back to the cottage or better yet the woods. It would be a stupid move to run the way they came, guards guarded the main gates and most of the town.

Her best bet was going through the small hallway opening that led inside the castle itself. Perhaps through there, there might be some kind of exit that was unguarded. 

No.

“Did ye not hear me, whore? Move!” 

She gritted her teeth in fury as Gerald pushed her in the path of the tents. 

All color and emotion drained from her face when she heard it. Screams and cries and small pleadings of ‘no’. Groans, growls, and the slaps of skin echoed right back. 

At that very moment, it hit her that she was overhearing the acts of rape. 

She felt her heart drop down to her stomach. Anger, horror, icy and deep sluiced through her for what these evil and vile men were doing. As she glanced up, tall flagstaffs waving tripartite pale, blue, red, and green on white sigil dresses up in the sky. 

Their clothing…

She wanted so much to hurt them as they did to the women. Perhaps even more. Not a single person attempted to put an end to this and she had a feeling that they wouldn’t either. What kind of place did Alyssandra send her? And why did she choose this one? 

Why Alyssandra?

She swallowed that useless and weak feeling that rested in her throat. If she couldn’t save them, she could have a chance in saving herself. 

She glanced between the small opening and the knights, deciding. If her calculations were correct, she had a sixty percent chance of outrunning them and potentially hiding inside the melted castle. Luckily she was small enough to fit into tiny surfaces. 

The guard shrieked as she stomped heavily on his foot and struck him right in the place she hit him from before. And with the adrenaline coursing through her veins, she broke out in a run before anyone had a chance to seize her. 

By how fast she was running, one would’ve thought she was in the olympics. If her high school gym teacher could see her now. Perhaps she could’ve finally given her an A. 

She saw one corridor unguarded and open and without hesitation, she took it. She glanced behind her, noticing a few men catching up to her and while her feet started to ache she ignored it and continued to run faster. 

Carelessly and unknowingly, she felt the front part of her body collide against cold hard metal, causing whatever she clashed in to move. 

It was then when she saw the most beautiful man she had ever seen. 

Stop. Go. Now. 

Rage sketched in his features at first. Then his eye locked into hers and that rage quickly went away into something she couldn’t quite describe.

Shock? Awe? As if he finally found what he was in search of.  

“It’s you,” He said, his lone violet eye wide and wild as he stumbled backwards, a hand clutching at his chest. 

Me?

She drunk in the rest of his appearance. He was exceptionally tall, the kind of tall where she could already feel a strain in her neck from looking up.

He appeared to be not that much older than her, perhaps around mid twenties the most. His hair, curated into a half up-half down hairstyle, was an angelic type of silver that reached just about the middle of his chest. It looked silky smooth and soft and she fought the urge to run her fingers through it.

A scar covers and paints the left side of his face underneath a leather eyepatch that suits him so well. Something about him feels eerily familiar. She had seen him before but to put a name on him was difficult.  

This definitely was going to bother her.

She watched as he brought a hand to the left side of his chest, about to speak again when the guard from before came, gripping harshly at her forearm. “My Prince, I offer my sincere apologies. She outran us and–” Gerald’s anxious explanation was interrupted by the man as he held up his hand to silence him. 

Prince? 

Of course he’d be a prince. With hair that lucious and shiny and silver— Her lips parted open and her eyes widened in pure realization.

The sigil on the surcoats and on the banners. The black castle where they had taken her.​​..

Holy fucking shit! 

The one and only, Aemond ‘One Eye’ Targaryen, stood directly in front of her.  How was this possible? How could it be? He was just a character. How could he be real? 

Que mierda’s esto? (What the fuck is this?)

His expression shifted and his lone eye darkened, noticing her very sheer attire that left nothing to the imagination to what was underneath. Unfortunately to Aemond, if he could notice the outline of her breasts and hips, so could the eyes of his men. And he could not have that. No. 

Her body was only for his eye to see. No one else. 

So Aemond tore away his crimson cape from his armor, wrapping it delicately around her body, making her skin tingle with shivers. 

“Thank you,” She manages to squeeze out. The top of Aemond’s lip lifted for a millisecond until it disappeared as he took heed of remnants of dried blood in the corner of her lip.

The one eyed prince became enraged, his lips turning into a sneer as his hand gripped tightly at the hilt of his sword. Who had dared to touch what was his? Especially in such a violent way.

“Which one?” Aemond whispered, his voice rough with an edge of unruliness. All she needed was to say the name of the assaulter and he would kill him. 

She opened her mouth, but no words came out. Aemond stepped impossibly closer, “Which one did this to you?” He asked again, tone harder as he gently traced his thumb to the swollen flesh of her lip. At her wince, Aemond was readying to kill the entirety of the army. 

It didn’t go by unnoticed by Aemond, the way she shifted uncomfortably against the hands of the guard that was holding her in place.

Him. 

He wanted so much to peel every inch of the man’s skin off his body for all the people of Harrenhal to see or mayhaps sever his fingers and make him eat it. Death by his dragon, Vhagar, was too quick. Aemond knew his dragon had not eaten and his corpse could be something of a light snack. But it all was too easy. He yearned for this man to die a painful death. Even if it meant one less guard for his brother’s army. Aemond abhorred any kind of violence directed towards women. Especially to his one and only. 

“You,” Aemond pointed towards the guard with his finger. “Stand there” Aemond gestured towards the pile of decaying bodies of House Strong. She trembled in horror, her face going pale like the color of her chemise as she saw Aemond swiftly strike the guard right across his face in the same location he had slapped her. 

She heard the man cry his apologies but Aemond was not having any of it. “It’s not me who you should be apologizing to. It’s her,” He pointed his sword towards her. The guard redirected his empty  apologies to her but she stood frightened to say anything. 

“Now which hand was it? The left or the right?” The man didn’t answer for he did not have time to. Aemond’s patience had always been thin, especially now as his one and only was here. 

If she hadn’t thrown up before she did now as all hell broke loose. Two detached arms were added into the pile followed by high pitched screams of the now armless guard crying for mercy from the one eyed prince. 

She should have run from such violence. Gone back to the little cottage from where she came from now that she had the chance to escape. However she was worried what the repercussions might be especially if what she read was true about the one eyed prince being ruthless and merciless. 

What would he do to her? 

Aemond had turned to face his one and only, wanting nothing more to take her up the castle and undress her and make her his now that he found her. To his dismay, he would not do such a thing until they were bound in marriage to one another. And when that day came he would be at her disposal worshiping every inch of her skin like the very image of a Queen she is. 

“Never again,” He whispered before he turned. The guard’s head was separated from his body in the blink of an eye.  

general taglist: @dreaming-for-an-escape @marvelescvpe @omgisrdj @ramsip @silentf @thenightmistress @dixie-elocin @namelesslosers @gigi-panecillo @laureeedn @watercolorskyy @seabasscevans @kittendoll05 @fullmoonworshipper @bunbunbl0gs @summerposie @dusicapopilic @tulips2715 @kckt88 @chaoticwinnercupcake @folksriddle @ficsandsin @nyx-daughterofchaos98 @qweencrimson @slytherized @qyburnsghost @tofujiji @saturnssrings @janeety @thought--bubble @theunburt @mandiiblanche @iamkookiesforyou @jeben196 @just-a-harmless-patato @moneypriestess @ladymoon666 @angelinap09 @blackswxnn @urmomsgirlfriend1

if you'd like to be in my general taglist click here

series taglist: @castellomargot @toodlesxcuddles @itsabby15 @diannnnsss @fan-goddess @zenka69 @a-beaverhausen @gabee-arts @bluebirdbts @gettheetoanunneryimmediatly @absurduty @delulumhaggy @liannafae @ilikechocolatemilkh @bellaisasleep @ammo23 @alphard-hydraes-blog @moose-squirrel-asstiel @tssf-imagines @possiblyafangirl @marthawrites @lokiofasgard12 @devils-blackrose

if you'd like to be tagged in only this series comment here!

#prince aemond #aemond fanfic #aemond targaryen x reader #one shot #hotd aemond #hotd fanfic #aemond one eye #aemond x reader #aemond targaryen x you #dark aemond x reader

[honestsycrets]

brujería i: inhuman | ceo!miguel x succubus!reader

❛ pairing | ceo!miguel x succubus!reader

❛ type | doubleshot, explicit

❛ summary | since taking over his bio-father's company, miguel just can't seem to sleep. there may be someone behind that though. or, a succubus wants miguel.

❛ tags | some sacrilege, succubus!reader, ceo!miguel, sex-dreams, sleepy sex, dub!con: miguel is asleep during many encounters, exhibitionism outside of a church, f!reader, some mention of blood and wounds, au with deviations from canon, slight hurt miguel, slight caretaking peter, excessive bodily fluids, some mindgames.

❛ request fulfilled | Was wondering if i could request ceo!miguel x succubus! reader? whether he’s spider-man is completely up to you but reader is basically like a demon hiding in plain sight, toying and feeding on the sexual energy of people. maybe she’s a new hire and then she visits him in his dreams or smth. miguel becomes her target and he finds himself falling in love with her and wanting her so much it brings out an intense carnal desire inside him (1/2)

❛ sy's notes | i based some of miguel's sleep paralysis on my own experience. the catholic religious connotations are not very heavy, but if you're sensitive to that sort of thing, i'd probably skip this one.

Miguel O’Hara was never a superstitious man.

He grew up in a deeply Catholic home thick with superstition. His grandmother’s rosary still sat on his desk, enveloped in a spherical glass alongside stacks of organized paperwork on the latest drug his not-so-dearly held biological father left before he kicked it. Corruption was fiercely rooted, a fact that Miguel was not so subtle about. The papers he rifled through that morning revealed the stupidest account of Brujería among reports of Rapture.

“Brujería-- what bullshit,” he murmured as he dropped a stack of papers back onto the oak desk. He glanced at the glass tabletop and found his reflection therein. His eyes, crinkled at the edges, carried the reflection of countless days of his dark exhaustion. “Si no es una cosa es otra.”

“Miguel?”

“What, Lyla?” Miguel threw a glare at the ceiling at the AI that sang at him. She seemed far too happy with her position as the resident terror of his new office. New was an overstatement. It was his father’s before he croaked, reflected in some of his tacky taste in the things Miguel had immediately thrown out. Why else would it have a picturesque, but grandiose view of Nueva York but for a great view of the people he was destroying? The bright windows also did a bang-up job of burning his eyes

“The psychiatrist is here,” she chirped. “Are you going to tell her about your wet dreams?”

The flutters that danced over his skin at night at the strike of three. Foreign warmth caressed his skin like a warm blanket over his skin. His heart rate raced, and pleasure burrowed under his skin. It never failed that Miguel would wake to a rush of pleasure, cum painting his sheets sticky, his heart soaring into his throat. With such pleasure, why would he tell anyone but Lyla about his pathetic, ruined state that came night after night?

Miguel waved his hand in dismissal. He instead checked the chunky watch on his wrist. You're just on time. He appreciates a punctual professional given how much work he had to complete. In lieu of the report of spiritual abuse, he picks up the pile of sexual misconduct. That was a more pressing matter to address. The actual victims were far more important than some bruto’s complaint of ojos based on a huevo in some water. He should send these idiots to any middle schooler’s chemistry class. The bruja who was coming to visit him today could hardly be a source of concern.

“Why would I do that? Let her in. You listen in and I’ll unplug you.”

“You wouldn’t do that,” Lyla teased, but he knew she was right. Lyla was one of his only friends and by far the one he spent the most time with. She has patience for him. He slips his reading glasses out of their holster as the lock on his office door hisses apart, welcoming in the strange woman whose name he could never find but in Stone’s personal records. A chroí, my love, like Stone could love anyone else but himself.

“Dr. O’Hara.”

Miguel slipped the lenses on. Not only was the woman before him, not the sort of hippy-dippy woman he expected, but you were… familiar. Oh, so familiar. He’s never met you before. Yet, he finds himself inexplicably pulled to closing the gap between your bodies.

You extend your hand for him to take.

“Dr…” You finished his sentence by offering your name.

“Have I met you before?” His large hand clasped your own. A blanket of warmth blossomed from your small hand in his grip. Gentle at first, your very same small hands laced in his. The sudden realization of where he’d seen you hit him like a bullet through the head: unexpected and instantaneous. The image rippled across his mind, Miguel’s hand collared on your nape, his fat dick splitting your cunt against his office’s wide windows. Another pulse of heat soared through his hand--

Miguel jerked his hand back. What in the hell?

“¿Estás bien?” You were so close that he could smell the perfume on your skin. A dark cherry, sultry, and so good. He was swimming in the vague delusion that was your skin against his. There was something delicious about the way you looked at him, tracing the outline of his tie that sat tightly behind a constricting vest. He was hazy, clumsily falling back into his office chair. Moving was tiring with the sudden vial of desire that flooded through his veins. You were at his side in an instant.

“I’m fine,” he lied. “It’s… the heat.”

“Oh! Stone's office is always hot. Here, I'll help you,” No-- he tried to argue. Against his wishes, you slipped his suit jacket off his shoulders and down his muscular arms, loitering a bit too long along his pumped biceps. “Though, I guess it’s all yours now, isn’t it? We all are.”

Miguel has no energy to fight you, lost in the haze that was last night’s forgotten dream. He’d never met you before, that much he was sure. Yet he swore, on all that was scientific and right, that he dreamed of your body on his, emptying him of any worries as he came into the nothingness of his sheets. It wasn’t just pleasure, it was a sea of rapture, and he drowned in it.

“According to your AI, you’re burning up lately.”

How do you know? You walked around his chair, your slender heels clicking over the hardwood floor. His eyes traced the curves of your velvet red pencil dress up to your bust as you leaned in, the back of your hand taking his temperature on his forehead. Your bust had delicate black lace detailing that enhanced your natural beauty. It scorched his ability to be a decent gentleman. Every man had their limits. He’s nearly at his, and you’ve only just arrived.

“You're so warm,” you gasped, but it's strained, a crack through stained glass. “Let me help you.”

You reached for the knot of his tie. That’s enough-- Miguel shoves your hand from his neck. He tugs the charcoal tie away from his throat, drawing it away from his white button-up. You wet your lips, drawing a sheen across your perfectly applied lipstick. You came in here with a plan and purpose to inflame him-- and did just that.

“Careful.”

A pause-- your eyes challenged him, seemed to know how weak he was in resisting the strain of lust that came with your mere presence. He was losing the fight quicker than he’d like. Miguel has to focus. “Your findings on Rapture’s… trial run. Where are they?”

“Destroyed,” you answered curtly.

"Project 2099?"

“Under seal. Oh, don’t look at me like that, hermoso. It wasn’t my choice.”

Hermoso. A flicker of anger shot through him as you reclined on his desk and ran your hands across the rim. You seem to notice the rosary on his desk, eyes lingering on it for more than a few seconds. You dipped so comfortably between propriety and looseness. The distance between your easily accessible skirt and his hardening erection is the entirety of only a few steps. “Stone’s orders, not mine.”

“There are no copies?”

“Why would there be? Stone was always very persistent with what he wanted.”

You? He doesn’t ask.

Something in him doesn’t want to think of it, what his father could have done to you that would make you so willing to stand so close to him. Your gaze faltered. You bore at his groin, his sleek dark slacks straining against his length.

“Now you want to know if I fucked him, que no?”

That's a yes. The way you slip onto his desk, legs slightly apart, tells him all he needs to know. His gaze falters, down then up again, an irrational amount of envy welling low in his belly. He found himself wondering what you’ve done in this very room. You bat your long lashes, far too pretty. He isn't easily dissuaded.

“I've barely met you and you want to know everything about my work and personal life. You’re so greedy. So like him.”

“I am nothing like that man.” At that very moment, his eyes locked with yours. A distant rage filled his belly. No one, he meant no one, compared him with that maniac. His tongue twisted in his mouth, ready to make some sharp remark, but you snatched his words by leaning forward, pressing your lips to his head. Your fingertips combed through his dark hair, a warm comfort. A kiss? His hands felt heavy, weighed down by an impossible weight, one he couldn’t push off no matter how much he strained.

"Hasta luego, Miguel.”

The door closes behind you with a clap. Back in the chair, Miguel was heaving heavy breaths. The restriction on his body loosened up and allowed Miguel to grab the black mirror stashed in a drawer below his desk. Your sticky lipstick left a stain on his forehead, strained with stress lines. He wiped away the red stain of your lipstick and rolled the remnants between his thumb and middle finger.

"Like Stone," he repeated with a hiss. "Mierda."

He wracked his hand around his swollen cock-- panting as he beat himself off, ecstasy claiming that he had to have you. The insatiable need to have -- his father’s whore-- overrode any of the papers on his desk. He came into the cold nothingness that is the air, his hands coated in his own essence. Miguel untucked a handkerchief from his breast pocket and wiped himself clean.

“Lyla? Who?” he gasped a breath, “Who is that woman?”

“Beats me,” Lyla thought she was so funny. “She’s not in any electronic records.”

“Really.”

Even if that was the case, Miguel would be damned if Stone got the better of him in death. Miguel cleaned up his hand and whirled open the sexual harassment folder-- he was nothing if not a determined man.

You shouldn’t be here. No, really, you should not be employed here.

He doesn’t know your qualifications because he cannot find them. In the electronic documents, your file is bare bones. The suggestion of your education is non-verifiable but signed off by Stone himself. If it were only him, he might chalk it up to corruption. But there were others-- other dead bodies-- who signed off on your highly amended report on Rapture. The board claimed your employment was not a subject for discussion. Even if he were the face of the company, you were untouchable.

He left his office to the small coffee shop on the third floor. The man who ran it, Peter, was a refreshment from the stress of the day in his own, weird little way. It was probably the high quantity of caffeine that kept him awake.

On the surface, Miguel’s dreams are unoffensive. Light things, like fingers brushing veins that creep along his muscles, soapy breasts dragging along his chest. Using your body like a sponge to clean him after a heavy session at the gym. You are always on your knees, suckling the cum free from his cock with an angelic little flutter of your lashes and those sultry, cat-like eyes. He was in a state of constant arousal with nothing to show for it but a consistently swollen dick. At his age, he considers it a feat.

“You’re so sexy, Peter.”

There it was again. Your giggle over top of the sound of the hiss of a coffee machine. Peter was laughing, shy, or uncomfortable, he couldn’t quite tell. Miguel slips off his wire sunglasses, looking along the bar for the source.

“Hey, Miguel!”

He paced around the corner, then back. There are a few work couples and colleagues speaking with one another. Their tables are fresh with coffee and tea, tiny wrapped sandwiches a poor lunch. You’re conspicuously absent. The lack of sleep was fucking with his head, it had to be. He settled the glasses into the lining of his suit pocket and withdrew his wallet.

“Miguel! You'll never guess who came by. Uh, the usual?” Peter bounced over, leaning over the cash register with a glitter in his eye. He was more upbeat than even usual. Some girl must have made his day, he decided. Sí, he rumbled. Miguel dipped his fingers into his wallet to pull out his card only to be stopped short of the action.

“Nope,” Peter pushed Miguel’s hand away. “Someone paid for you.”

“For me?” Miguel settled the card in its proper slot. “Who?”

“You know,” Peter whispers. "The bruja."

“She was here?” he repeated, following Peter across the side of the bar as he began to make his coffee. Peter is an airhead, a wonderful airhead. Some part of him is infectious on days when he’s not being stalked by a woman with no traceable name. It was as if you were wiped clean. “When?”

“About two hours ago? She said you looked spooked and left me some money for your coffee. I think she likes you.”

You were doing more than liking him.

“And why would you think that?” Miguel pulled out a chair at the bar, humoring the scrawnier man. Peter frothed some milk, a fluffy cloud of relaxation on top of his usual coffee dusted with cinnamon and nutmeg. Miguel takes the mug from Peter, wrinkling his nose at the addition of nutmeg.

“Well, she turned down some dude from marketing,” Peter mentions. “I've been here for a while and-- she rarely turns anyone down.”

You rarely turn anyone down?

It bothered him long after he finished the coffee. You’re so sexy, Peter. You weren’t there. Peter told him that you’d been gone for two hours. He should not have heard the wisps of your caramelized voice in the coffee shop.

It’s the exhaustion, Miguel convinced himself. He just needs the weekend, to rest.

By Saturday night, he hit his last nerve.

Restful sleep would not come. He lay in his large, empty king-sized bed after searching through files for another project that had no other name but 2099 for the entirety of ten long hours. Any information-- redacted-- but your name slapped over the top and bottom of countless documents was like a great, big fuck-you O'Hara. The more he read about you, the angrier he became. You enraged him, but he was positively enthralled with your presence.

He lay in bed listening to should-be soothing jazz that now grated his ear. Night after night, his torment never failed. When he finally found an instance of peace, his muscles locked up. Not quite awake, but not quite asleep. Heavy pressure overtook his chest and arms forced him to remain still. The world fazed in and out, doom on beating alarm bells in the back of his mind. Then he felt it, the phantom pressure on his neck that slid over his tawny skin, from his belly to the dark happy trail that dipped below his silky pants.

Miguel gritted his teeth and ripped himself from his trance. When his eyes popped apart, he was greeted by his shock. Hunger flowed through him in warm waves, piercing underneath his skin. Miguel’s fingers twinged, your phantom figure on top of him. It looked like you, but misty, as though an illusion. In the darkness, he can only make out the shadows that bounce off what little light is in the room.

“Motherfucker--”

Though he said that, your teasing fingers freed him from his cozy pants, ripping them around his hirsute thighs. His length lulls against his body, a shameful drool of cum gathered at his cock. A night of phantom touches has done him in. Miguel lurched back onto his flat pillows when he was abruptly shoved down by an outrageous amount of force. With his arms thrown up by his head-- he whimpered, frustrated with tonight's-- dream, delusion, dare he say-- reality. His joints were locked by invincible chains that forced him to stay in place. The more he fought, the hotter his need became for what came next. His body was pitifully trained.

He wasn’t certain that it was you-- but it smelled so deeply of your perfume, rich and cherry, flooding his nostrils. So familiar. He glanced down at the opaque figure, grinding over his hard cock. A pair of hands crashed onto his shoulder, claws curling into his broad shoulders. Blood seeped forth. A growl gathered in his chest, ripping up when something warm and tight sunk down on his bobbing dick. Miguel gritted his teeth: it had been a long time since he’d been with anyone. Not for a lack of viable partners, but his annoyance with them all.

Despite his immense muscle, he was too weak to do anything about it. Even if he could, what would he do? Throw off the sex-crazed hallucination on his dick? You rolled your hips over him, suckling him right back up. Hypnotized by the smoky illusion, Miguel gazed on begrudgingly, grunting as you rolled over him, his dick straining your insides. He was a toy, nothing more and nothing less, used for his fat cock that split your airy body apart. His hips jerked, frustrated as he found he could go no deeper. You punished him by dragging your claws over his swarthy shoulders, over his collarbones. Blood ripped free, sliding down his deltoids.

“Chingado,” Miguel’s lips parted for the word, hips juddering up like a hungry slut. It wasn’t normal, the warm tickle of your lubricant over his shaft, exquisite in its nature. His heels dug into the bed, balls tightened. He was so damn close to his relief, he could taste it on his tongue, bordering somewhere between immense pleasure and decadent pain. Your need for his pain won out, dipping down over his chest and latching your fangs over his chest-- then up, hooking on the front of his throat. It was going to bruise, badly.

You shook loose his orgasm, ripped free with the need to fill you, own you-- as though he were not the one being owned. His hips staggered, sticky whips of cum coating your walls in waves. More than he’d cum before before. His eyes shut hard, tears pricking the sides of his eyes. Then, as if it never happened, the hold on his hands was released. He struggled with his freedom, his hands slack, softening cock worthlessly weeping over his thigh. The pain-- oh, the pain, it washed over him moments later.

“Woah,” Lyla interrupted, “Miguel! What happened?”

She couldn’t see you. His eyes were like two dark coins, staring up at the ceiling, wide, and unseeing. He can hear her frantic questions, the ligature marks left behind from invincible chains, and the all-too-real blood and bruising that left him utterly ruined.

“It,” he choked out, heat biting at his well-chiseled face. “It hurts.”

He doesn’t remember what comes next. It was five in the morning when he finally rolled out of bed, and onto the floor, gripping the growing headache that grew miserably behind his head. Bitterness bubbled in his stomach, exhaustion in his eyes. The aberration that was his poor sleep was irksome more than anything. He felt someone’s eyes on him, soft and worried, rushing to his aid as though he were an old man who fell off a bed.

“Hey, you’re awake,” Peter said with an undercurrent of concern soaring through his words. “No, wait. I got you.”

He helped him sit against the frame of his bed, a frame that looks small as shit with Miguel’s large body against the frame. He’s unsure of what to say, assuming that Lyla called him in desperation, and let him into the house that Peter most definitely did not have a key to. Miguel’s chest ached. “What happened? Are you… are you okay?”

Everyone seems to ask him that lately.

“I’m fine,” he was alien to the feeling of care. He knew when Miguel dug himself into a hole. Miguel didn’t want to think about what happened only a few hours prior when his exhaustion took over his body and knocked him out. He dreamed of nothing. An abyss of unsettled nothingness, the ache low in his belly to fuck you until you were soaked in his cum and Miguel could finally, finally rest his tired eyes. Miguel pulled on a fluffy white robe Peter supplied, dragging it over thick strips of gauze and medical tape.

“You don't look fine.”

They both know he’s lying, but what else could be said? That the state Peter saved Miguel from was a rarity? That he’s used to being preyed upon by his own delusions? He needs a fuck, maybe that’s it.

“If you’re going to stay, be useful and get me that file.”

“Oh-- okay, this one?” he doesn’t look surprised. He padded across his room to his desk, kicked a chair that was falling apart aside, and picked up the folder on Brujería. It was buried behind more useful folders such as sexual harassment and inter-employee workplace violence. A fact that Miguel wasn’t exactly proud about in the first place.

“Brujería? Like witch stuff, right? No way. You think work is haunted too?” Peter says with a choked-out, nearly forced laugh. Miguel doesn’t pay himself enough for this. Of all the files at hand, it was nearly untouched. It included such things as ancestors, spirits, demons, and curses.

“I don’t. But the workers obviously do.”

Peter was soft and kind, but not stupid. He plopped down next to him and crossed his legs one over the other.

“The ones that say she’s a bruja?” Peter tapped on your photo. Your photo offers emptiness. That though you have a bright smile in the photo, it is undoubtedly fake. He never saw a woman look so innocent and sweet, but dangerous.

“You’ve heard?”

“Well, the men she hangs around always end up dead. They get all successful and rich then, bam, dead. But you can’t believe that right?” Peter reasons. “She’s not cursed, she just has bad luck. She’s always been nice to me.”

“A curse?”

“Yeah,” his warm breath wavers into a sigh. “Stone wanted company, found her in Sacred Heart-- you know, the one they say is cursed?”

“A cursed church? Give me a break. The only curse at Sacred Heart are the exploitive priests.”

“I’m just saying what I heard,” he’s whispering, shivers wracking up his arms at the mere mention. He tries not to push him anymore. Peter stood up and walked to the coffee stand in the corner of his dark room. For the days that he couldn’t be bothered to leave his room, he’d make a hot coffee in the corner and keep working just as he always did. “She’s always been nice to me.”

“Maybe you’re not her taste.”

“Yeah well, probably not. I don't look like you-- but she did call me sexy, so that's something right?” Peter laughed, “Want a cup of coffee?”

Sexy. That's it, he's so fucking sick of this shit.

“No, I don’t want a cup of fucking coffee,” Miguel bit back, shoving the bed several inches as he pushed his hand off of it, storming into his walk-in closet. “Lyla. When is mass at Sacred Heart?”

“Sacred Heart?” Lyla laughed. “You’re kidding--”

“Lyla,” he snarled, chucking his bag across the closet. It connected with his tall, black safe with a loud boom. She was quiet for a moment, undoubtedly momentary confusion for why non-believer Miguel O’Hara wanted to go to, of all things, a Catholic mass.

“6:30,” she answers.

“I’ll go with you,” Peter calls out.

Don’t bother, Miguel returns from the next room.

It’s been a long time since he dressed for mass-- some dark brown slacks and a warm, vanilla button-up. He snaps a chain necklace around his thick, bruised throat and his favorite watch. As he grabbed the manilla folder on brujería he felt like a child, lectured by his grandmother to not be like his bad man-loving, alcoholic mother and go to church. Despite very much not believing in any of this shit, it was frustrating, annoying even, that he had to go back there.

He didn’t want to go but his spirit was unsettled. Something told him that going to his grandmother’s favorite church would give him a sense of illumination, that it would make sense of the things that made no sense.

Sacred Heart stands on a hill, both physically and metaphorically. It takes offerings off the backs of the poor and sits atop a lush hill. Its stained-grey architecture is only beautiful by virtue of its stained-glass murals. He doesn’t care for the saints that loom overhead, unseeing eyes judgemental and cold. Viejitos and the truly devout are the only ones in attendance. Based on Peter’s account, he should expect you there. It doesn't take long to be proven right.

“Bendición.”

Is he hallucinating again? Despite the many rows of unspoken burgundy benches, you sit by him. Miguel is disconcerted as you slide your thick hips by, sandwiching him between the side of the bench and your chunky, beautiful thighs. He worked his words in his mouth for entirely too long.

“Dios te bendiga,” he said, the words chalky and thick in his throat, drawn up from the bottomless abyss of his fluttery stomach. You sat with a black lace veil pinned to your head. The only sort of women who wear a veil are very old or not Catholic at all. He veers on the latter. “You’re Catholic?”

“If you want me to be.”

“Why else would you be here?” he reached over and plucked up a cheap bible from a pouch behind the bench before him. Your eyes follow pupils dilating in a way that isn’t human at all, staring at the many words on the page that spun under his thumb.

“I think you know why,” you said with soft and pliable words. He felt himself melting.

Of course, Miguel thought, you always seem to show up during the most inopportune times.

"You didn't bring a bible," he offers it to you. Your eyes, dilate wide and bright at the sight of the thing, flicker a look down to it, then Miguel again.

"I prefer to listen." You turn away from it. He flipped it in his hand before returning it to its rightful pouch. For some reason, you did not want to be close to the book. He thinks he knows why.

“So you are stalking me.”

"Stalking is such a mean word, Miggy. Haunting, I like haunting better." Miguel throws open the report. He doesn’t want to read it-- but it is the last folder that may hold the information he needs. Your eyes fluttered to the footsteps of others filling their spot, an archaic song on the lips of the practitioners. Wrong page, Miguel.

"What was that?" he asked you.

"Nada."

He looked down to his lap where the report sat. The voices of those present, their lips forming an off-tuned song, itched at his already exhausted mind. The more he fought, the worse it became. You flipped open a black fan and cooled yourself with long flicks of your wrist. He doesn’t think it’s so hot.

“The rosary on your desk is from here, isn’t it?”

How would you know?

“You’re hiding something.”

Page 76. His fingers thumb on the pages on their own accord. Your eyes traced the movement, looking down at the pages before him. On deaths of company men.

I just do.

The thought entered his mind without prompting. He scanned names on the page. Aaron Delgado… asphyxiation. Tyler Stone… myocardial infarction. There were photos pinned there, photos that shouldn’t be so graphic, but somehow are. The men are as naked as the day they came into the world.

“If you say so, Miggy.”

“What are you hiding?”

You brought your hand over the file, closing it shut on top of his hand. He turns his hands over the top. Your fingers run over his knuckles, in misleading circles. “Are you sure you want the truth?”

“I don’t hide from the truth.”

“The truth,” you leaned in, your words husky against his ear. “The truth is I have no idea what you’re talking about. I’m a good girl, Miggy. You have to believe me.”

Something about the way you spoke enraged him, prickling him enough to force him to stand in the middle of the priest’s words. He snatched your wrist with his thick hand, gripping you enough to leave pepper bruises across your skin. Your heels clicked after his boots, out through the foyer, past the bath of holy water, and down the discolored steps.

“Miguel?” you sang like a siren.

He’s hit his limit, throwing you against the discolored church wall. A gasp punched out of your lungs, aggravated by Miguel’s large hand strangling the breath from your throat. He felt warm as he kicked your legs apart and took up that space. The heat doesn’t feel like it is his. His bulge against your skirt certainly is. Now, he seems to expect pleasure when he is in your presence.

“You want me to fuck you, sí? That’s why you’re tormenting me every fucking night.”

“I thought you liked cumming,” you relinquished with a harsh giggle. It grates his last nerve. “You finally look relaxed when you do.”

“Qué mala eres,” Miguel snatched the bottom of your skirt, ripping it up the slit to expose your warm skin. He found no panties there, just smooth skin. He cupped your sex for emphasis. “No panties in church. You're filthy.”

“¿Y qué? You’re proving why I didn’t need them.”

He stared, lingering for a moment, challenging your insistence on control. Since he took over this god-forbidden company, you had been defying him with your devilish smile. Miguel slapped your cunt, eliciting a groan that was half of the pain that he’d had only a few hours ago. You liked it, scratching lines up his arms to his broad shoulders.

“You’re so big,” you balanced his abuse with your overwhelming worship. “So big and pretty.”

“Shut up,” he bit out and slipped his middle finger inside of you, unconcerned for your pleasure. Your muscles tightened around his finger, drawing him deeper. He slides another beside it, his hand leaving your cunt to slap your jaw, forcing you to keep focus. Your tender flesh is hot and red, a wonderful tenderness radiating throughout your jaw.

“And you're dripping, do you have no shame?” He grips your chin to look at your face. Raw defiance was slapped across your face. You rolled your hips onto his hand, forcing him to caress your walls in the right spot. He perked his brow, listening to the priest lecturing in the background. Your sweetness drooled over his curled wrist, dripping from his squelching fingers.

“For you,” you whined. “I want your dick. Give it--”

“You’re a brat.”

He said that-- but he was amused. Miguel slipped down onto his knees, knocking your legs rudely apart. His mouth encircled your puffy clit, bringing it into his mouth and suckling it fat. His rhythm was quick, making a point that he could make you cum too. You weren’t debating him, your hands tight in his hair, loud little moans beating free from your lips. His tongue was warm and soft, kissing and nipping.

The priest went quiet.

“You’re being too loud. Do you want them to hear us?” Miguel’s brow furrowed, slipping up from your vulva.

"Why is that my problem?" You whined in distaste after he stopped pleasuring you, your pulsing cunt beating like an open wound. Asshole.

"You could care for someone other than yourself." Miguel tilted his head, turning you to face the wall. He pulled himself free of his pants-- his thick cock fat against the curve of your ass. That’s what you wanted, he decided, gauging by your whine that came with his action.

"How does that get me what I want?" You shook your ass at him, waiting for him to rear back.

“This is what you wanted, hm? Fine, have it. Just shut up."

He leaned over you, your scratchy black veil catching along his stubble. He doesn’t wait for a response, pushing inside. He wasn’t just thick, he was long. But he knew you already knew that-- you knew every curve of his body, loved the thick veins on his cock that filled you so well. You scratched at the wall as he crushed you into the wall, his hips stuttering with your walls tightening him, drawing him further, impossibly deep.

Estúpida, he thought-- and knew you’d hear it. Whatever you were, you weren’t human. You were somewhere between a human and desire itself, evident in the way you looked at him, pleasured by his rutting hips against the church. The priest went back to his lecture-- the churchgoers enraptured in their worship. The only thing Miguel was enraptured with was the way your pussy tingled, the fluid soaking his cock, and the stretch in your lower belly. His hand clasped over your mouth, index finger poking into your mouth. Your tongue drew him in, fangs nipping his finger.

It earned you a hard slam, stuffing you full, your strange body catching his thrusts beautifully. He slipped his hand over your soft cunt, working your clit for your orgasm, though you deserved no such thing. Habit, he supposed. Gloria a Dios-- the churchgoers clammed with one another. Nearly out of time, your pleasure won out, gushing over his fat cock. Miguel suckled a breath, his ego demanding him to hold out, batter your sweet cunt through your orgasm.

“I’m hungry-- Give it to me,” you bit on his finger, breaking the skin and urging blood to flow into his mouth. Your body twitched violently around his cock, drawing bright pleasure forth. “Give me your cum.”

"Stay out of my dreams."

"I don't want to," you reared your head back at him, your nose tight with wrinkles. He drew you fully onto his dick, the final thrusts were sloppy and immature-- but he held out, making you angrier by the second.

"I'll cum on the floor right here, I don't give a shit."

"No, no! Fine! I promise-- I'll let you sleep," the threat of going hungry is enough that you concede, punching your fist against the wall. He grunts in response and feeds your body with whips of cum that felt far heavier than his usual. A pleasure, far sweeter than any orgasm he could give you. Miguel soaked your sweet little body with his sticky cum, chest swelling heavily against your little back. He finishes and pulls himself free. To his surprise, your cunt doesn’t leak. Miguel staggers back with a perk in his eyebrow.

You look far better for wear than he does, clumsily zipping himself back into cum stained slacks, running his hand through his sweat-soaked hair. You recline on the wall, inspecting him. He knows how he looks. He's bruised, long gashes down his chest, and properly fucked-- a mess. The manila envelope sits forgotten by your heels, your skirt-- perfect, as though he never tore it in the first place.

“You’re not human.”

Miguel bends down, picking up the folder. Not like he needs it anymore. He does, however, need that information on Project 2099. I can help you, he hears. He catches your wide, toothy smile. You've grown fangs. He isn’t surprised.

“Not even a little.”

#miguel o'hara x reader #miguel o'hara x you #miguel o'hara x y/n #spider 2099 x reader #miguel/reader #atsv imagines #atsv imagine #atsv fic #atsv fanfiction #miguel o'hara smut #miguel o'hara imagine #miguel o'hara/reader #across the spiderverse fic #miguel o'hara fic #miguel o'hara imagines

[octuscle]

Hey Chronivac!

My 21st birthday is approaching and I was wondering if you could help me by giving me a birthday gift. I'm in college and I've been assigned to work with 2 other guys for a major project however, they have been nothing but a burden to me so I was wondering if you could turn them to absolute studs that loves me with all they're heart and make them incredibly horny too. I would also like if you could change them from white guys to a Hispanic and Arab guys.

Thank you for listening to my request!

"What if we did something cross-cultural? Something like that with the Hispanic influence on our story…" That either of those lads are even capable of having a thought like that…! Your pen almost falls out of your hand. Okay, the other of the two lets out a huge belch in confirmation. And then stands at the whiteboard and starts drawing a timeline. And then arrows are added. And pictures of shoe soles. He starts to dance. He sketches a choreography. And the second of the two begins to dance the sequence of steps. Damn, he's not doing a bad job. You look for a suitable salsa playlist. And you start to dance along. And the first lad corrects your steps.

Phew, the day was damn exhausting. The three of you are all sweaty. "Hermanos, ¿tomamos otra copa?" asks one of them. Of course, all three of you are thirsty. And you still have a bit of time before your performance at the end of the project.

The audience cheers. The three of you take off your sweaty tank tops in sync and throw them into the crowd. Whistles, calls for an encore. The principal comes on stage clapping distraughtly and says "Thank you Enrique, Juan and José for your interesting show. It's hard for me to see the connection with the project task, but I have to admit that you moved quite nicely. The old bruja. You saw her watching the three of you lustfully. Too bad you three are celebrating your performance alone now. It's your birthday. And Enrique and Juan have a special birthday present planned…

#male tf #muscle tf #reality change #chronivac #male transformation #muscle transformation #race change

[richincolor]

I love speculative fiction, so I thought it would be fun to highlight three speculative fiction books that came out this year to add to your TBR pile:

A Tempest of Tea (Blood and Tea #1) by Hafsah Faizal Farrar, Straus and Giroux

On the streets of White Roaring, Arthie Casimir is a criminal mastermind and collector of secrets. Her prestigious tearoom transforms into an illegal bloodhouse by dark, catering to the vampires feared by society. But when her establishment is threatened, Arthie is forced to strike an unlikely deal with an alluring adversary to save it—and she can’t do the job alone. Calling on some of the city’s most skilled outcasts, Arthie hatches a plan to infiltrate the dark and glittering vampire society known as the Athereum. But not everyone in her ragtag crew is on her side, and as the truth behind the heist unfolds, Arthie finds herself in the midst of a conspiracy that will threaten the world as she knows it. From the New York Times–bestselling author of We Hunt the Flame comes the first book in a hotly-anticipated fantasy duology teeming with romance, revenge, and an orphan girl willing to do whatever it takes to save her self-made kingdom. Dark, action-packed, and swoonworthy, this is Hafsah Faizal better than ever.

Relit: 16 Latinx Remixes of Classic Stories edited by Sandra Proudman Inkyard Press

These sixteen stories by award-winning and bestselling YA authors center a Latinx point of view in an empowering anthology that reimagines classics through fantasy, science fiction, and with a dash of magic, for fans of A PHOENIX FIRST MUST BURN and RECLAIM THE STARS In classic stories remixed, Latinx characters take center stage Pride and Prejudice is launched into outer space, Frankenstein is plunged into the depths of the ocean, and The Great Gatsby floats to an island off the coast of Costa Rica. A shape-shifter gives up her life to save the boy she loves from an evil bruja. La Ciguapa covets a little mermaid’s heart of gold. Two star-crossed teens fall in love while the planet burns around them. Whether characters fall in love, battle foes, or grow through grief, each story will empower readers to see themselves as the heroes of the stories that make our world.

The Last Bloodcarver by Vanessa Le Roaring Brook Press

Nhika is a bloodcarver. A cold-hearted, ruthless being who can alter human biology with just a touch. In the industrial city of Theumas, she is seen not as a healer, but a monster that kills for pleasure. When Nhika is caught using her bloodcarving abilities during a sham medical appointment, she's captured by underground thugs and sold to an aristocratic family to heal the last witness of their father’s murder. But as Nhika delves deeper into their investigation amidst the glitz of Theumas’ wealthiest district, she begins to notice parallels between this job and her own dark past. And when she meets an alluring yet entitled physician's aide, Ven Kochin, she’s forced to question the true intent behind this murder. In a society that outcasts her, Kochin seems drawn to her...though he takes every chance he gets to push her out of his opulent world. When Nhika discovers that Kochin is not who he claims to be, and that there is an evil dwelling in Theumas that runs much deeper than the murder of one man, she must decide where her heart, and her allegiance, truly lie. And - if she's willing to become the dreaded bloodcarver Theumas fears to save herself and the ones she's vowed to protect.

#a tempest of tea #relit #the last bloodcarver #book lists #weneeddiversebooks

[itsguysnightitsironic]

Fur coats and pumpkin labyrinths.

What would be Crete if Theseus, dagger in hand, enter the maze and the Minotaur exited, using the front door, wearing the hero's head and wearing it better? What would be Theseus then? A scapegoat? A body for something divine to use and scream, as an oracle trapped between the hands of her gods?No mind or self, just, skin and fur.

I would like to say that this started as just a pumpkin labyrinth idea and I lost my mind, and I blame all the hot johns and I'm glad they are dea--

More ramblings under the cut:

----- ready for some nerd things? (in broken English, sorry)

1- The yarn it's a reference to the three Moirai, who control faith and human lives. (spinning the yarn, forming the thread and cutting the thread. Birth, life and death.)

Frost carries his life around his back, keeping control. (He carries his own faith. / Also, also, also references the threat that Ariadna gifts Theseus to not get lost in the labyrinth, he's able to control his life and mind.)

2- The cup and the laurel leaves are references to the religious practice of the Oracles of Delfos.

Where the oracle drank water from the fountain of Castalian and chewed laurel to purify herself to be able to be the voice of the gods, in Frost's case to think clearly. (Clear thought.)

3- The red yarn getting cut represents Frost getting lost in his own mind, overthinking, and losing control over his life. (Also his tail, which might link to the "having the tiger by the tail" saying.)

The labyrinth, who seems logical at first it's intended to have no exit (it's mirrored), it's Frost's emotions that keep him trapped behind his own logic.

4- Torbek being covered in blood and bones represents the goat sacrifices made to the oracles for enlightenment. Scapegoat, get it?

(You would also make a case linking him with Hercules "losing his mind by a divine power" wearing a lion skin with the whole "being punished by his crimes and gaining his identity back by getting a new identity by becoming a god", but it wasn't intentional.)

All the smoke that moves and represented the party that dances around Torbek, are references to the belief of some historians that oracles sat in a tripod on top of a rock that emanated gases causing them to get high and get hallucinations. Though it's not proven.

Also, it is a very poor reference to "Vuelo de Brujas" 1797 by Goya, which lives in my head rent-free. (You would say Frost is blinded by them since he's "witched", look at me making connections.)

5- The sad cat in the pumpkin it's a reference to EP. 4 Lose your illusion from the whole scarecrow situation where Frost falls in deep sadness while carving a sad kitty face.

Scarecrow's usually symbology shadows, a version of oneself that it's usually more linked with "darkness".

By being a scarecrow, Frost considers himself a shadow of what he used to be and now Torbek is. (Well, Torbek only has the skin.)

7- The pumpkin falling it's a very "losing your head" situation.

8/9- Frost by throwing away the laurel and the cup, which would give him the ability to see the future (to be able to see the situation logically and analyze it) he's refusing to believe there are other options than his friends abandoning him. He's jumping to conclusions.

And by it, it makes him distressed. (his fur falls and grows leaves, doubt.)

This makes the phrase "leaves no room for doubt" pretty ironic.

-----

thank you for reading all that, have a cupcake. 🧁

#legends of avantris #once upon a witchlight #morning frost #tw fur #tw blood #torbek #tw death #tw murder #i saw a labyrinth i blackout #i wake up twelve hours after #all i have is this #panic panic panic panic panic #tw bones #i took greek mythlogy in school and you can tell #kremy lecroux #gideon coal #gricko grimgrin #tw overthinking #tw eyestrain #tw body horror #melting face #tw religious themes #tw derealization #tw dereality #tw dead animal #tw long post

[madschiavelique]

This random question just popped up in my mind just now while writing a lil short story but,, just wondering if you may have ideas or headcanons for Miguel when celebrating the holidays 🤔..

Okay so there are lots of different holidays in every culture such like days off for celebration and entire weeks of relief, so I’m going to try and keep it as general as possible by just going for some of the most famous (to give a global idea)

If this is a celebratory holiday, like Christmas for instance, he brings so many gifts it’s almost indecent. I feel like, if he were to offer presents and he hesitated on what to offer, he’d buy all the options he though of and offer them, saying “I wasn’t sure which of all these you’d prefer, so I got them all. Keep them.” because giving back the product to the store is not really an option for Miguel. (Let’s be honest, he’d be rich enough to buy some entire brands, but he doesn’t)

When it comes to Halloween – dià de las brujas, dià de todos los santos and dià de los muetros – you can be SURE he has tons of candy prepared. He even asks what the kids’ favourite candies are so that he can give them what they want ! (this man updates every year his catalogue because he makes research on what the kids are liking nowadays in terms of sweets)

He goes out to the parties of these three days, and this is some of the only time of the year where you might miraculously see him dance (print this in your mind, because this is a very rare event)

Bonus : if he has a partner that is sensitive to the sound of fireworks, he’ll cover their ears

During most elongated periods of day off, he’ll certainly feel guilty about wasting his time enjoying peace and calm, and will undoubtedly find opportunities to work.

He is not against travelling – even less if he has his watch with him to allow him to go back to the society or change dimension if need be.

I bet there’s a good possibility that Miguel and the other spiders go into vacation in other dimensions for their paradise-like scenery.

“Never been to this dimension ? You’ll see, the pink water sparkles as bright as stars in the middle of the night”

now random thoughts :

he’s definitely the kind of man who kisses his partner right on new year’s

he’ll sometime pick the beach as a location just to have his partner rub sun screen on his body AND for him to do the same

he asks Lyla to give him the best ideas for spots to hide the chocolate eggs on Easter week – all the spiders once made a chocolate Miguel’s Ass for Easter to have an excuse to eat his ass… so many sacrifices for such a glorious outcome

To resume : the only holidays he celebrates/enjoys is either the ones he can spend with his close ones to give them gifts, or the ones can enjoy both by himself calmly or with his partner.

#mads' asks ⟢ ݁ ˖‧˚₊ ☁︎ #mads' thoughts ⟢ ݁ ˖‧˚₊ ☁︎ #miguel o’hara x reader #miguel o'hara headcanons #astv headcannons #headcanon #miguel ohara #miguel o'hara #miguel ohara headcanon #miguel spiderman #miguel astv #astv miguel #astv #astv x reader #astv headcanons #miguel spiderverse #spiderman 2099

[imoonblaze]

[Daughters of the scale AU] Michel (Mictlan)

🔥Michel (mictlan's human disguise), Anayatzin, Quetzaly, iztli and AU belong to @imoonblaze (KlfunsskXD)

🔥Mictlan from Maya and the three, Jorge R. Gutierrez

Habia querido mostrar esto el año pasado, sin embargo no tenia ideas para la plantilla 😅 pero finalmente puedo darme el tiempo de hacerlo! Esto vendra en un AU que estoy creando

🔥SOBRR LA HISTORIA🔥

La historia sigue a dos semidiosas gemelas llamadas Quetzaly y Iztli, hijas nacidas de una de las escamas del dios Mictlan. Ambas jovenes viven de una vida normal en nuestros tiempos actuales, yendo a la escuela, conviviendo con amigos, divirtiendose y viviendo una vida de adolescente colo cualquier otro.

Ambas mantienen un perfil bajo para solo preocuparse por vivir su dia a dia como si fueran mortales, sin embargo, ambas no son las unicas dentro de esta vida. Tambien se encuentran Anayatzin, una bruja serpiente que es maestra en la escuela a la que asisten las gemelas y Mictlan o Michel como le piden aparentar en su forma humana, un dios que tiene que pasar como un humano y estudiante mas en la escuela para cuidar de sus hijas (a obligacion y peticion de Anayatzin).

----

Ademas de un AU enfocado a Mictlan y a sus hijas, tambien habra dos AUs alternos enfocados en sus hermanos Xibalba (Daughters of the feather) y El Chamuco (Daughters of the flame).

Hasta el momento solo tengo diseños conceptuales de las hijas gemelas de Xibalba y las hijas de Diablo, por ahora estan en su fase beta de diseño. Aun no tengo un sketch de los disfraces humanos de Xibalba y Diablo.

#Daughters of the scale AU #Daughters of the flame AU #Daughters of the feather AU #digital art #el tigre the adventures of manny rivera #maya and the three #Mictlan #maya and the three mictlan #maya and the three fanart

[chiquititaosita]

La Bruja jean kirestein x latina reader

Reader is a healer, and uses herbal remedies and folk magick/medicine to help cure Jean’s empacho (blockages) from las jefas (bosses) he’s afraid of anything that’s not a doctor. He’s a skeptic fr fr. However this little curandera is just healed his wounds but did she heal his heart too?

@honeybleed @killxio @imissyuuji @timietate

he’d see you in the village of wall rose inside of the Karaness district. So kind. So loving. And so sweet. You were passing out food and crops to the poor, and you were always busy. But now he sees you in Marley. You both are in disguises. Cleaning and organizing the food stamps. It’s because you’re so intellectual they call you La bruja. A witch. you’re not even a witch. It’s just the home remedies you Perform it’s perfect. However there’s one particular day Jean and his squad had set up camp. And you come in.

“Mr Kirestien?” A calm sweeet voice pops into the tent. Jean is full of sweat on his face coughing, and feeling like a dying mess. And he never gets sick.

“Yup..” cough ”that’s me.” You just chuckle as you’re starting to sit up him up.

“how are you feeling?” She asks him with her two braids with the ribbons.

“Could be better to guess.” He grumbled sitting up, and flinched when you have an egg in your hand. “You’re not going to squash that on my head right??” you just chuckled.

“No, I’m going to cook you and feed you to Los pollos.” She laughs and shakes her head rubbing the egg all over him slowly saying a prayer. “Why so tense?”

Jean was always tense for real. Maybe it’s the pressure of the military police, or is that how he is after witnessing death so much. “Why so nosy?” He thought it would be adorable to be such a smart ass. You rolled your eyes. “You have a lot on your plate…” she mumbled as she’s now cracking the egg into a cup of water. “Ahh I see now.” Jean looks at y/n with a dumbfounded face

“Let me guess i got a curse placed on me.” He snorts, starting to wheeze. And then cough. “No. You actually have empacho. A blockage.” She explained and made the young man prop up as she poured him some water into his mouth. As he’s just been feeling queasy. Nodding. Then hacking because of how much mint is helping him breathe through his nose.

“Gah!! What the hell!” You then respond ”is something wrong?”

“You mad mad woman you’re supposed to make me feel better not try to kill me!!” There he couldn’t help to hear you giggle, and then that giggle would turn into a cackle. A true laugh a man hasn’t heard.

“What? What’s so funny?” He cocks his head. As you calm down and sigh wiping your eyes. “This.” You breath as you make your finger into a circle. “This is funny.” You then just sit down in the tent. Reading and performing your prayer rituals. “I will be here for at least two days. Three days including today.” She smiled winking at him and then grabs the the big plants to smack him.

“Lay down.” You command him, and you sounded like you were on top of his case. He smirks at you. “Or what, Missy??” He gives you that arrogant smile haughty laughter. You just slapped him with the leaves since they are palm leaves. Stinging his skin..

Then it happened day after day. During those three days. He’s felt a connection with you. Mamacita. Homeboy even loves your cooking. So when he finishes. And it’s your last day. “So um. I wanted to say thank you.” He coughs out his thanks.

“Did I hear gratitude?” He rolls his eyes as a playful scoff escaped his lips. “W-what no.” He crosses his arms frantically like he’s panicking. And then reveals his flowers of tulips in his back pocket.

“These are for you.” You blush smiling all sheepishly and hop up to your step and kiss his cheek. He stammers and looks at you with a sheepish look that made him all smitten. “S-say, I was wondering… since you saved my life…? How about I get you a job on the force??”

“Is this your way of asking me to come with you?” You giggle, and you also said yes.

#⋆˚✿˖° osita’s chisme time #. ⁺ 𓂋 𓈒 ♡ ositas aot master list #jean kirstein x reader #jean x reader #aot x poc!reader #jean kirschtein x latina!reader #farmer jean kirstein x reader #jean kirschtein fluff #jean kirschtein scenarios #aot masterlist #aot x reader

[theartofmetal]

107. Hive Mind Narcosis - Thantifaxath (Avantgarde Black Metal, 2023)

Art by Francisco de Goya: "Vuelo de brujas (Witches' Flight)", 1797/98

"It was part of a series of six paintings related to witchcraft acquired by the Duke and Duchess of Osuna in 1798. The painting now hangs in the Museo del Prado in Madrid, which acquired it in 1999."

"This powerful and disturbing painting shows three female witches carrying a man as they fly in the air. The three witches appear to be biting or kissing his body. The witches wear a pointed hat, called a 'capirote' -  a catholic pointed hat of conical form that is used in Spain and Hispanic countries by members of a confraternity of penitents."

#metal #bblack metal #avantgarde #witch #goya #oil painting #masterpiece #classical art #flight #witches flight #bands #music #heavy music #spain #art #artwork #artist #painter #cover art #old painting #18th century

[love-too-believe]

All three women have connections to Brujas del Mar, all three respond with an attitude when called out for lying, all three just so happen to call Tenoch fans bots?

Yeah this whole thing was 100% a setup since the cape incident.

@observers-journal @soledadmiranda I know you both mentioned the cape incident and now looking back I wonder if this was what helped ER decide to fully falsely accuse him. Cause of Luz's live about it on Insta and she just piggy backed off that.

#elena rios #vanessa bauche #Luz Valdez #brujas del mar #tenoch huerta

[duckprintspress]

Meet Aether Beyond the Binary Contributors Sebastian Marie, Lyonel Loy, and Elior Haley!

As we enter the last few days of the Kickstarter crowdfunding campaign for Aether Beyond the Binary, we’re introducing the last few of our authors. Today, meet Sebastian Marie, Lyonel Loy, and Elior Haley! We’re really excited to be featuring these three authors contributing to this fantastic collection of 17 stories set in modern aetherpunk settings where the technology runs on magic, all starring characters outside the gender binary.

Un Charco, Un Lago by Sebastian Marie

About Sebastian: Sebastian Marie (he/him) is an engineering student with a lot of opinions about dragons, pirates, and sword fighting. Track him down on Ao3 or Tumblr and he’ll share these opinions gladly, just be prepared for music and some excited shouting. His original works often combine fantasy and dystopia into what he calls “queer fantasy hopepunk,” something that will be explored in his future novels. He loves to write conflicting traditional and non-traditional family dynamics, especially where they intersect with queer relationships. And if he can throw werewolves and brujas into the mix? So much the better. When not writing, frantically studying, or reading, he can be found singing loudly, sewing impractical coats, and going on long rambling walks while plotting stories (and occasionally falling into rivers). 

Also, he’s also the guitarist and one of the lyricists of folk punk band Here Be Dragons, who hope to have their debut EP out near the end of Fall, 2023. 

This is his third time writing for Duck Prints Press, having previously contributed to Aim For the Heart and She Wears the Midnight Crown. This brings his grand total of published works up to three! He’s looking forward to more, as soon as he gets some sleep. 

Links: Archive of Our Own | Tumblr

This is Sebastian’s third contribution to a Duck Prints Press anthology. His first contribution was in the masquerade-themed anthology She Wears the Midnight Crown, and his second in Aim For The Heart: Queer Fanworks Inspired by Alexandre Dumas’s “The Three Musketeers” – which, mostly coincidentally, has been released on our website TODAY!

Title: Un Charco, Un Lago

Excerpt: 

The person who answers the door to the townhouse is short, brown, and incredibly tired looking. Victorie sees this look a lot in her line of work; plumbing disasters really take a lot out of people. He adjusts the strap of his work bag on his shoulder and begins his spiel. 

“Hello, Hola, English or Español?”

“Ingles,” the person responds before yawing. “but either is good.” They scratch at their shoulder, which is covered in paint-splattered overalls and a worn blue polo shirt. 

“All right. My name is Technician Victorie, public works wizard at your service.” Victorie points to her name tag that helpfully states “he/him” and “she/her” under his name. “And you must be Lago Cabrera? Elle/le or they/them?” Victorie reads off her paper.

“Yes.”

“Do I have your permission to inspect the problem, a…” Victorie consults the paper. 

“The sink is throwing up.” Lago says bluntly.

We Might Contain Multitudes by Lyonel Loy

About Lyonel: Lifelong maladaptive daydreamer, finally working up the courage to write those daydreams down. Spends time cosplaying as a Responsible Adult With A Job.

This is Lyonel’s first time writing with Duck Prints Press.

Title: We Might Contain Multitudes

Excerpt:

There are master crafters in the sleepy hills of New England, waiting amongst the silent ward stones.

The first has eyes like a spider’s, arrayed out neatly in rows, and the spider eyes sparkle in a riot of colors that Kwok’s human eyes should not have been able to see.

The next has no mouth yet whispers ceaseless, an uninterrupted flow of half recognizable words in a myriad of voices and a myriad of tongues like a mountain stream in heavy rain, swirling over and around itself like dancing water.

The last is Guo, whose name is not truly Guo. Guo, who could be any ordinary young man on the streets of Ipoh or Singapore or Seoul except for their eternal eyes, and yet it is they who scare Kwok most of all.

Epiphanies of Friendship, and Other White Whales by Elior Haley

About Elior: Elior has spent much of the past few years primarily writing for fanfic exchanges. Currently, he’s in the process of slowly working his way through university. When not writing or studying, he can be found binding books, drawing, ice skating, and—very occasionally—playing the violin. His story in Aether Beyond the Binary is his first published work.

This is Elior’s first time writing with Duck Prints Press.

Title: Epiphanies of Friendship, and Other White Whales

Excerpt:

There was no such thing as night and day, deep in aetherspace, but it was during Raisel’s resting time that the song woke her from sleep, deep and low and rolling in her bones.  She felt it more than she heard it, its vibrations layering on top of the omnipresent hum of the gravity generator and engines.  At once she sat up in her narrow bunk, heart beating jackrabbit-quick; she tried to calm her shaking limbs for a moment before realizing that the tremors were from the song.

It was like nothing she had heard before.  No words she knew felt adequate to describe it; it was both beautiful and eerie, and somewhere between her bones and her soul she felt something call to her.

Halfway down the corridor, still in her sleeping clothes, Charlie caught her elbow.

“Where are you going?” they asked.

With less than 5 days left in our campaign, we are 83% funded. Time is running out to back the Kickstarter to buy your copy of Aether Beyond the Binary and help us raise the funds we need to bring this anthology into print! Become a backer TODAY!

#duck prints press #aetherpunk #aether beyond the binary #sebastian marie #elior haley #lyonel loy