#is owen wilson hiding around the corner too?
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I’m sorry was this a convention of my biggest crushes or what?!
#is owen wilson hiding around the corner too?#jesus CHRIST#what#WHAT?!#pedro pascal#sam rockwell#walton goggins#and one dead me
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You know how we have pet costumes? Give Jacob one, make him a cute space cowboy😈😈😈
WE'RE BACK BABY
Please enjoy this little ficlet (that was actually my 3rd attempt to write a fluffy ficlet for this universe because all the other ones kept becoming future chapters lmao)
--
“This is humiliating. I look like sheriff Woody or something.”
“Aw, I was thinking more like John Wayne Gacy, you know?”
“The...the clown serial killer…?”
Angie pursed her lips. “Wait, who was the cowboy guy in all the old movies? Like, before Clint Eastwood and whatever.”
“That’s John Wayne. Not John Wayne Gacy,” Jacob tugged at the sleeves of his costume and readjusted his cowhide vest. “And I don’t feel anywhere near as cool as him right now.”
She rolled her eyes and crinkled her nose. “That’s because you’re not cool. You’re a grown man playing dress up with a kindergartener.”
“So are you.”
Angie straightened her Native American headpiece and threw one of her braided pigtails behind her. “Yeah, but I know it’s stupid, so therefore I’m doing it ironically which makes me cool.”
Jacob sighed heavily but didn’t argue further, instead tugging his cowboy hat down further to shield his face that burned with embarrassment. Being forced into having playdates with his captor’s coworker was nothing new. He had spent plenty of time being Mibao’s sole playmate aboard the ship, doing the best he could to keep the six year girl entertained and not too psychologically damaged. Being the youngest in a sibling group of only boys, he was a bit rusty when it came to knowing anything about kids. Thankfully, Mibao was more than happy to take him by the hand and show up all the “fun” things she used to either do back home or what she would now do with her “kitty”.
Today’s game of choice was dress up. Every day felt like dress up when it came to the girl’s ever expanding wardrobe; she was always dressed in an obnoxiously puffy and sparkling princess dress fashioned with ribbons and bows galore and always with a matching crown. Fine, no big deal, he could slap a tiara on his head and call it a day, he’d worn worse at the few fraternity parties he attended during college. Nope, not good enough. Mibao had a very specific game she wanted to play which involved him wearing a cowboy costume of all things. A very realistic and detailed cowboy costume, assless chaps and spurs and all. Again, he could...handle it for the most part. The only thing that really bothered him about it was all the coos and giggles he received from both his and Mibao’s captors when he finally came out in his new outfit.
And he knew for a fact they took many, many pictures of him.
It didn’t end there, Mibao still had more requests. Angie needed to join in as well and she was required to be an “indian princess” to partake. Naturally, she was more than happy to agree if it meant getting a break from the absolute nightmare of a captor she had been saddled with. So, now Jacob had to deal with the fact that she would have to watch him play pretend in this ridiculous getup. He could never catch a break with her, it seemed, she always had to catch him when he was in the middle of doing something cringe worthy. She didn’t even look half as uncomfortable as him and she was literally wearing half as much clothing.
Or maybe that was exactly why she was so comfortable as she sauntered up to him, making a finger pistol to tip his hat away from his face. “Cheer up, partner,” she teased. “I think it makes you look cute.”
“I think it makes me look like Owen Wilson from the museum movie,” Jacob replied, hoping the shadow of the brim hid his reddening cheeks.
“Oh my God, you are a tiny little twink cowboy, huh?”
“I’d rather be the gladiator guy.”
“You wish you could pull off being the gladiator guy.”
A rebuttal was on the tip of his tongue when Mibao made her appearance from behind the monitor where she had been changing. This time instead of her usual princess attire, she was dressed...pretty much the same, only this time she had a tiny pair or iridescent fairy wings attached to the back. What a fairy had to do with cowboys and indians, he hadn’t the faintest idea. She stopped when she saw the two of them and stuck out her tongue in childish disgust.
“Eww, stop kissing!” She scolded. “You can kiss the princess later, Jake, it’s time to play!”
Jacob had never been more grateful in his life that the creatures idly watching them couldn’t understand English because he just might have died if they heard. He could feel the heat radiating from his nape to his cheeks, putting his hands up in defense like it could keep Angie away from him.
“Wh-no! We weren’t, we weren’t kissing, Reagan, w-we-!”
Angie only cackled, her amusement stemming more from Jacob’s panicked response than the actual accusation of giving him a kiss. “Yeah, cowboy, you can kiss me later.” She winked and nudged him with her elbow as she walked past to where Mibao was waiting.
He groaned, tugging the hat down as far as it would go even if that meant obscuring his vision somewhat. That was totally fine, he didn’t want to look at anyone right now and he did not want to be perceived either. The child was leading them back over to her designated play area scattered with art supplies and stuffed toys for where they’ll play their game of make believe. Angie was already sitting on her knees by the time he shuffled over and beckoned him with a sly smile to come take a seat on the ground next to her. Jacob obliged, but refused to give her the satisfaction of seeing his beet red face.
As soon as they were settled, Mibao immediately launched into the exposition of the scene they would be putting on, including their roles and superpowers (that only she had because she was a magical fairy queen). Jacob was only half listening; the kid usually forgot half of her own rules in the middle of playing anyways because she wanted to change the story and it wasn’t that hard to follow her game of make believe. Instead, he kept side-eying Angie, who was side-eying him back, and every time they made eye contact she would smile and bump his shoulder with hers.
This was going to be a long playdate.
--
The lab door slid open as Talan walked in, peeling off his bloodied gloves to dispose of them in Ylva’s waste bin. “I need my human back.”
“Aw, why? They’re all having a ball together!” Ylva frowned, gesturing to the miniature trio on her desk. Well, the smallest one and Talan’s pet seemed like they were having a good time, namely at the expense of the other human in a hat. They all seemed to stop at the interruption, his human fixing him with a sneer that he was tempted to match.
“What the fuck is it wearing?” He asked, ignoring all the little protests he got when he grabbed it and plucked the stupid looking feather thing of its head. “I thought you said it’s not nice to torment the humans.”
Edix scoffed at him, though his annoyance was more from Talan being in his general vicinity than anything. “It’s not torment. They were having fun.”
Talan did not look convinced in the slightest, his eyes sweeping over the pup who was pouting at him for taking away its playmate and the other who froze any time he breathed in its direction. Like owner, like pet, he assumed as it seemed to unconsciously inch closer to where Edix’s hand was resting for a better sense of security. Pathetic. At least his pet had a bit more self respect and wasn’t afraid to try and stab him in the hand with his own tools. Of course, it got a sharp flick to the stomach to knock it off, but he could appreciate the gumption.
Talan rolled his eyes. “Yeah, looks like a real party. So sad to have missed it.”
“Like you’ve ever been to a party to know what it looks like.”
“Says the one that only hangs out with plants.”
“Okay,” Ylva interjected, rising from her chair and scooping up her adorable little human. “You’re right, we should probably wrap this up, Mibao’s going to need a nap soon and she likes to fight her naps when she’s excited.”
That was all the excuse Talan needed to dip out without a formal goodbye, though it didn’t escape the corner of his eye how Edix’s human took a half step forward when he left, almost like it wanted to say something. Even if it did, he wouldn’t have cared. As quickly as he had intruded, Talan disappeared back down the main hall of the fauna department to return to his lab.
Edix stood up as well and tucked the data pad he had been keeping busy with under his arm to keep his hands free. He couldn’t help but smile at seeing how much closer his little pet was standing to him, even if it wasn’t by much, even though it was caused by Talan of all bastards. A win was a win in his book. The hand the human had been partly hiding behind curled easily around it to lift it up, immediately cradling it to his chest as usual. It squirmed for a moment but settled quick enough, a clear sign it was also ready to go back to the lab it was accustomed to. For a social species, the little one always seemed so drained after any playdate Ylva arranged for their pets. Fine by him, it usually meant his human was much more quiet and well behaved once it was back in the solitude of Edix’s company, making for an easier work day.
He used his finger to tilt back the wide brimmed hat it had been using to hide its sweet little face a majority of the playdate, earning him a surprised squeak. With the way its baby cheeks were turning an adorable shade of pink, Edix had a fairly good guess as to why it was trying to avoid everyone’s line of sight. Damn, he should have had Ylva take more pictures, this was way too cute for him. It reached up to quickly pull its shield back down and Edix let it with a laugh, cooing as he tugged at its little vest instead which only made it wriggle in distress. Overdramatic little thing.
“Can I keep this costume?” He asked as he followed behind Ylva who was preparing to put her own pup down for a nap. In reality, it meant she was going to have to play with it for at least another half an hour because, much like him, she was a sucker when it came to her human wanting to play. The difference being that Mibao wanted to do anything from coloring to singing to continuing its game of make believe while Edix’s pet always wanted to play chase.
Ylva smiled and shrugged. “Sure, I mean, it’s not like it’s going to fit the baby. It was printed for its measurements specifically, anyways.” Mibao was proving to be difficult in its refusal to relinquish the shiny wings Ylva had designed at its request, something that Ylva quickly made a game out of by setting her pup on the desk and letting it squeal and run while her hands chased after it. That would tire the kid out in no time. She looked back at his human and giggled. “I don’t think it likes it very much, though.”
Oh yeah, that was obvious from the get go, but it didn’t change the fact that it was way too precious for its own good in this type of outfit. Edix actually quite liked the contrast of the dark brown against its pale skin, even more given the fact that it matched the color of its doe eyes perfectly. It was much more appealing than that splotchy green jacket it was inexplicably attached to. He had a feeling it was going to try and strip out of this outfit as soon as it was back in Edix’s lab, provided he gave it its normal suit and jacket to change into. But...maybe he didn’t have to offer it its spare set of clothes right away. Maybe it would just have to hang around in its little boots and hat for a couple hours longer while he finished up his latest report that was just so important to get done. And maybe he would get constantly distracted by how cute it looked while it was definitely pouting at him for not taking off its costume that it took a little longer than usual to finish his work, which meant it spent even longer pouting under its hat.
Decisions, decisions.
Edix waved his hand dismissively. “It’ll learn to love it.”
“Oh, Eddie, don’t be mean to it,” Ylva laughed, not that seemed bothered by the idea of his pet keeping the outfit on for an extended period of time beyond the playdate. “But send pictures if you do.”
#ask#anon#my writing#g/t writing#g/t fluff#g/t ocs#g/t#giant/tiny#gianttiny#macro/micro#gt#please enjoy ficlet mommy buy for u#ive missed them so much#now we just gotta finish chapter 3 and we're really rockin n rollin#also yes angie likes teasing jacob for obviously having a crush on her#and ALSO YES i forgot angie has short hair so we're gonna pretend its because shes been in captivity for so long that it just grew out#and thats how she could braid it#talan simps rejoice for he is here#unfortunately
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A Gentlemen’s Agreement // 1.
Henry Cavill x Reader
--- All work and no play finds you in dire need of a wedding date. Desperate you turn to a friend who directs you to a sort of ‘service’ she had used several months prior when she went to her high school reunion, swearing up and down it was the best two weeks of her life. They were discreet, they knew all the right tics for the occasions and they were good-looking. What could it hurt?
word count: 1576
warnings: the usual swearing.
author’s note: Henry Cavill rabbit hole is real. This is the first chapter. other’s will be posted to Patreon first before coming to Tumblr. Thanks to @itssmallerontheoutside-13 this amazingly fun idea. TAGS OPEN
FEEDBACK Masterlist Series Masterlist AO3 Patreon
Chapter One
Eighteen days until the wedding.
The lace bordered wedding invitation was mocking you with your all too confident choice to RVSP for two. No matter where you looked at your desk, your eyes drew back to the damned thing like it was a cursed object insulting your cockiness with glitter etched into the words.
You’re invited to the wedding of Javier De Leon and Marcy Wilson.
Even her name was glaring daggers into your soul with what could have been. “Ah, fuck it,” you stated to yourself, picking up the stupid thing and tossing it in the trash bin next to you.
“Fuck who?”
Swiveling around in your chair, you met Brie’s dark eyes, “No one apparently.”
Her eyebrow rose as she stood up from where she was sitting at her own little work area and strutted her way over to where you had angry tossed that sparkly piece of paper away. In her usual all too nosy manner, she reached down and picked the thing right up making you wish you had finished your yogurt sooner to cover the thing in.
“The wedding’s coming up?”
“Yep.”
A knowing smirk tugged at the corner of her lips, “And you still don’t have a date?”
“You’d be correct.”
Placing the invite right back where it had been gawking at you mere seconds ago. “Why don’t you have a date again?”
“You know,” you glared at her, really wishing that your eyes could shoot laser beams out of them. It’d be really useful in a moment like now. “I don’t have time.”
“But that pint of Ben and Jerry’s you keep having to replace in the back of your freezer could argue otherwise.”
With a groan, you leaned back, feeling the dip of your chair to the point it almost felt as if you were going to fall flat on your ass if you didn’t stop soon. “Why did I ever let you into my life?”
“I don’t think you really had a say in the matter,” she chuckled, leaning herself against the cubical wall that separated the two of you from the rest of the corporate office. “Plus, you know I would have elbowed my way in there somehow.”
She wasn’t wrong. The day you found yourself sitting in this exact spot five years ago, Brie made her presence known, walking over like she was the head honcho and introducing herself before promptly inviting you to after-work cocktails even though it was a Monday. The two of you liked to joke that she was your more adventurous half, doing crazy dance classes, bravely renting adult movies at hotels, and brazenly asking men for their numbers.
The craziest thing you had done since you started working at Saggino Law Firm was to break up with your boyfriend. The very boyfriend that wanted you to quit mere months after you got hired because he wanted you to stay home and practice being a Stepford wife.
Sitting back up, you looked at your friend. “My dumbass drank too much wine and totally thought I’d have a man in my life by now, so I RVSP’d for two. And that was well over a year ago.”
“I know. I was there.”
That glitter was glowing now. “I can’t show up without a date.”
She shifted a bit now, still leaving her arms crossed in that almost concerned motherly manner she always seemed to wear when it came to your dating life. “Who cares. Go stag. Sleep with one of the groomsmen.”
“My brother is one of them.”
“Then not him,” she shrugged like this was a basic math problem. “You’re hot as fuck, any one of them would be drooling to a get a night with you.”
You rolled your eyes, knowing that she loved to hype you up in an effort, or more so a hope, that you’d break out of your shell. “That’s not what my mother will say. She’ll point out how everything there could have been mine.”
“Again, who gives a fuck.”
“Sadly,” you gave her a sad little smile, “I do.”
Brie didn’t hide her annoyance at your answer, eyes narrowing before she stood up and made her way back over to her desk. Eyes following her, you watched as she slid open one of the top drawers, she staring at the contents for a moment before peeking around the fairly empty office area and pulling out something that looked like a credit card. Her back remained facing you, “Remember when I went to my high school reunion last year?”
“Of course, you tried to get me to go, said we could totally pull off some sort of lesbian sister thing to fuck with Daryl,” you remembered that conversation perfectly, it sounded hilarious at the time. “But then I got roped into something here.
“And I got a date.”
“Shocking.”
Her lips pursed now as she turned back to face you. “Don’t you want to know how I got one so quickly?”
Feigning some serious thought, you turned your chair completely around to face her and this mysterious card in his hand. “Flash some boob? Promise an array of sexual favors?”
“Just make me sound like a hooker why don’t you,” when your mouth opened to reiterate, Brie held up a finger. “Don’t.”
Staying quiet you smirked at your best friend as she made her back over to where you had barely moved an inch. The card in her hand sounded heavy as she placed it down on your desk when you spun to see what it was, you were surprised to see the thing was completely blank. It didn’t have any numbers and when you flipped it over it was lacking the strip that all credits cards have.
“What’s this?”
“The answer to your problems.”
Your eyebrows had to have been lost in your hairline now. “I fail to see how a blank card will help me.”
Brie sighed slightly, leaning forward so that her head was perfectly covered by the felt wall in front of you. “When you bailed on me, I found this,” she picked the card up by a fingernail now, tilting it towards the two of you until the light reflected in just the right angle to reveal a trail of numbers. “They are called ‘A Gentleman’s Agreement.’ And trust me they live up to the name.”
“You used an escort service?” You squealed trying to keep your voice level, but the highs and cracks gave away. “Brie, what the hell?”
She shushed you quickly, poking her head up to steal a glance around before ducking back down to meet your criticizing glare. “Don’t give me that look, listen,” she flicked the card over once more, dropping it now, “these men are used for things like this. Weddings, reunions, bring home to mom to get her to stop asking questions, some are booked out for months. I’m told even some celebrities have been known to use this service.”
“They’re escorts,” you stated again slowly. “I have to pay someone to spend the night with me.”
“It’s not like you have to sleep with them.”
You stared at the card, sliding it away from you like it was growing some sort of fungus. “I still have to pay for them.”
“It’s your choice,” Brie continued as if your concerns weren’t clear to her. “Owen was amazing for the reunion. He kept his hands on me, was beyond respectful, and even got good old Lana to give me the side-eye.”
“Owen?”
“Yes, Y/N, they have names.”
You stared at the card now, still keeping it a safe distance from your fingertips now. “I don’t know… this sounds like too much work.”
“They have a refund policy.”
Something about the way she said that made you actually happy that you didn’t eat your yogurt from earlier. “Jesus woman, they are people.”
“Men,” she corrected. “They are men who know what they are doing. Owen was a well-deserved lay and I’d be lying to you if I didn’t admit that I haven’t been able to get some dick like that since then.”
Your mind was spinning. A male escort service, something your best friend took a chance with and was raving about like it was the best burger in the city. Once more Brie stressed that it was a no-pressure kind of agreement, apparently, on their website, they list their rules of what they can and won’t do per client; but stated that everyone was tested regularly and background checks were a must. They had pricings and profiles to flip through and a survey to fill out to gauge just what you needed and could make suggestions.
It was literally a meat market at your fingers tips.
“Just think about it,” your friend finally said, sliding the discreet business card closer to you. “You can either take me to this beach filled extravaganza and really fuel the route of your sexuality with your family or you take the risk and have a really good time with someone who’s going to be exactly what you need.”
Exactly what you need.
Goddammit.
#a gentleman's agreement#aga#henry cavill#henry cavill x#henry cavill x reader#henry cavill x reader insert#henry cavill x you#reader insert#superman#august walker#fanfiction#fandom#fanfic#the witcher#geralt of rivia
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Not to start something, @inkoutsidethelines, but you’d mentioned DD!Mary in AMH and I just wanted to write something. :p
Mary stayed hidden by shrubbery and lush plants as she made her way around an expansive garden on castle grounds.
A couple days ago she would have said a place like this only existed in fairy tales or as ruins in Europe. But after a couple of days she’d had to come to terms with the fact that it was real and compartmentalize it away to deal with later.
Survival and blending in had to come first, so she focused on what she could control until she was able to find answers. But now ‘not drawing attention’ and staying out of trouble was probably going up in smoke.
She’d had a vision of a little girl being kidnapped. It hit too close to home for her to ignore. And maybe the kidnapping attempt would ultimately fail regardless of her assistance, but maybe she really wanted to punch a dude for trying it in the first place.
Mary caught sight of the little girl as she skipped down the garden pathway. Her billowy pink dress dragged behind her as she hopped, and she was humming a little tune as she held her hand out to touch the flowers as she passed. But Mary waited. If she stepped forward now, the kidnappers would most likely spook, and then she’d have exposed herself and put herself in an undesirable situation.
“Mistress Willow.” A low voice called out from off the path, deeper into some trees off the garden trail.
The little girl’s head shot up and she moved towards the voice.
“Hello?”
A man stepped slightly out of the trees and knelt to be the girl, Willow’s, height.
“Who are you?”
Mary felt frustration flicker as Willow’s voice sounded more curious than cautious.
“I need your help,” the man said. “There’s a very hurt gryphon just over here, and he needs to be healed.”
Willow gasped as she covered her mouth with her hands.
“Oh no! That’s so sad!”
“Will you come with me to help him? It will only take a moment.”
Mary’s blood boiled and she forced herself to keep still for a few moments more. Willow rocked on her feet.
“I- well. I’m not supposed to leave the garden. Mom and Dad said.”
The man smiled and it made Mary sick. She inched forward, unable to help herself and still unseen, as shadows flickered closer from the trees.
“I’ll have one of my friends go tell them where you are. Would that work?”
Mary internally pleaded for the girl to walk away, though she knew it was pointless.
“I suppose,” Willow conceded. She stepped off the pathway, out of direct sight of the castle, and the man’s hand shot out to grab her around the arm.
“Hey! That hurts!”
Mary took her cue and rushed forward. Willow’s cry was loud enough that any nearby guards would have heard and come running, and she’d been Daredevil for long enough to know not to waste time or monologue.
The man shouted in surprise as she grabbed his arm and broke his hold on the girl, twisting him away and kicking out his knees. He cried out in pain and Mary grinned.
“You won’t be touching her.”
Shouting came from the garden along with the sound of rattling chainmail. Mary deftly dodged a wild swing the man threw and swept her leg around the back of his to shove him in the approaching guards direction.
“Freeze, in the name of the king!”
“Sir Wilson, they’re fighting!”
She needed to leave now. Light glinted off polished armor and several sword wielding men and women burst into view. One of them scooped up Willow and ran back towards the castle.
Crashing and snapping branches alerted all to the presence of more attempted kidnappers trying to escape, and Mary dropped her hold on the man’s arm to flee herself.
“Stop!”
Of course, she didn’t. Mary had the advantage of not being thrown at a guard and earthy colored clothes to help blend in with the trees. She flew over logs and rocks, and it was such a wild difference from the rooftops of Hell’s Kitchen. Dirt under her feet instead of concrete. But her visions helped keep her from tripping and she was able to circle the grounds back towards the castle and the town.
Alarms were already sounding off at the castle and people were buzzing. The opportunity for escape was slim and she couldn’t afford to slip up.
So, of course something barreled into her side as she tore around a corner, grabbing onto her waist and twisting so that she didn’t smack into the ground as they rolled. The person below her let out a grunt as they hit the cobblestone street. Mary scrambled.
“Miss, I’m so sorry- The alarm, I-”
Mary’s stomach clenched as a troop of guards caught up and surrounded them. She stood quickly, legs bent and ready for conflict, and the man jumped up beside her.
“Prince Owen, please step away. This woman was part of the team sent to kidnap your sister, Princess Willow.”
“What?”
“Prince?”
Of course. It was just her luck that she would get caught up in royal, treasonous affairs.
There shouldn’t be royalty in the first place!
Mary turned to look at the prince who’d run into her and he was already staring back in open shock. He was tall, taller than she was, and most of the guards, with blond curly hair that reminded Mary a bit of the girl, Willow’s. Her heart beat a little harder as he studied her like she was fine art. Someone in the castle chose that moment to start playing orchestral music, and Mary thought that was odd timing.
There had just been an attempted kidnapping.
“There must be a misunderstanding,” he finally said.
Mary’s brow furrowed in confusion. He didn’t even know her. Why should he doubt the people hired and sworn to protect him?
“I saw a man grab the girl,” she said. If he wanted to give her the benefit of the doubt, she might as well take advantage of it. “I was just trying to stop him.”
She cut her eyes over to the men with swords ready if she made a wrong move, and noted their critical expressions. The Prince, Owen, looked convinced.
“A selfless hero, then,” he decided. And a smile exploded across his face that Mary certainly didn’t understand. “Lower your weapons, please.”
After a hesitation, the guards did so, but one stepped forward, his expression stern.
“Regardless, we will need to question her, sir. This was a serious attack against your family, and we must clear all potential threats.”
Mary felt her stomach drop, even as her mind spun trying to find a way out of this situation as quickly as possible. Even with the benefit of her visions, it would be difficult to take on this many people and get away without a scratch.
And given that these people looked like they might still bleed out bad spirits when sick, she didn’t want to have to deal with a slice from a sword and potential infection. Her best bet, at the moment, was to take advantage of this prince’s trust and stay on his good side.
“I have nothing to hide,” she declared, chin up. “Ask the princess herself what happened.”
Owen’s eyes shone and he stepped forward, almost protectively. It was strange. Almost as strange as the fact that whoever was still playing music was persistently playing it more loudly.
The guard studied her and gave a small nod.
“We shall,” he said. “And for your sake, may it be as you say.”
“I will be accompanying you, Sir Wilson,” Owen insisted. And Mary cast another confused look in his direction.
He was strange, this place was strange, and Mary had a feeling it wasn’t going to get better anytime soon.
#ink tag#friends oc#mary/owen#dd!mary#amh!owen#Willow is just the most likely to be kidnapped#she trusts too much#and doesn't have stranger danger radar#despite sutton's desperate attempts to teach her#SORRY#I changed my mind mid sentence there....
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Snapshot - Requested
Harry Holland x Reader
Words: 2,576
Requested by: anonymous (You’ve been waiting for this for such a long time and I am really sorry.)
“a harry x reader fic where ur friends and u were crying and for some reason he took a picture and posted it without your permission and u get a lot of hate about it and u find out about the pic while with harry and u get really upset about with him and make him leave your trailer (can you be a part of the SM:HC cast?) and he feels really really bad so he comes back later to apologise and he finds u cryin and sobbing in ur trailer bc of the hate and he comforts you and cuddles and hugs?”
Hello!!! I have another week off so I’m kinda taking it easy since school has been really tough lately. I’ll try and post as often as I can. Oh, and also I really want to thank everyone because I know I haven’t been so active lately and instead of losing followers like I expected I would, I’m actually gaining them and honestly, thank you all so much!!! I hope you like this one! xx
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Your first big break, so to speak, and it was going to be on what was predicted to be this year’s biggest superhero film,
Spider-man: Homecoming.
It was luck, or divine intervention, or good karma, or whatever the hell you wanted to call it. Imagine it though, you had auditioned so many times, along with hundreds of different, more qualified people but you were the one who got a call back and you were casted!
Being a huge fan of both the comics and the cinematic universe, it was such an honour to get any role on this film. You were cast as Betty Brant, one of Midtown Tech’s smartest, most popular girls and best friends with Liz Allen, Peter Parker’s love interest. Although you didn’t have as many lines or scenes as you would have liked, you were beyond grateful and excited for everything to happen.
It was only a few days since filming officially started but a bond was immediately formed between everyone, the importance of everyone’s roles or how big of a star they were didn't matter. You were all just kids having an extraordinary time.
On one of your lunch breaks, you found yourself huddled in your trailer that you shared with another actress on the film who played one of the decathlon kids, but since she had a scene to shoot, you were left to your own devices.
You were supposed to be memorising your lines for later but the film playing on TV won your attention.
With your knees hugged close to your chest, tears dropped onto the blanket you had draped over yourself. You just couldn't wrap your head around the concept of why there were some films that revolved around dogs or any other animals dying.
Marley and Me was one such film. Onscreen, Owen Wilson’s family were beginning to say their goodbyes to their beloved Labrador and at that point you were already desperately trying to keep the tears at bay.
“Good bye, clearance puppy.” Jennifer Aniston tearfully uttered
With that, you were a goner.
The overflowing dam of tears you’d worked so hard to hold together finally broke wide open, unleashing streaks of white hot tears upon your red cheeks.
“Stupid, stupid film.” you muttered, wiping at the corners of your eyes angrily
Unbeknownst to you, the door to trailer was slightly ajar, with one Harry Holland sneakily snapping pictures of you while you cried with everything you had. Without your consent, he posted the photo on his Instagram for his thousands of followers to see.
“Didn’t know she was a weeper.” Harry captioned the photo and immediately tucked his phone back into his pocket
“Y/N?” he proceeded to knock, feigning innocence
The credits have been rolling for a good five minutes but you were still in tears and you just let them roll down your cheeks. You didn’t have to hide from Harry. The two of you became best buds in such a short time, since you were both around the same age.
As he approached you, he started to feel a little bad about posting your picture, but that didn’t mean he was going to fess up right then. He took the seat next to you and offered you his jacket sleeve to blow your nose on. If it were any other day, you would’ve given him a funny look, why would he want your snot all over his sleeve?
But since you were highly emotional and Harry was feeling guilty, you took his sleeve and he let you. You blew your nose, hard, complete with comical honking noises. Harry winced but said nothing, he turned his attention to the TV still rolling credits.
“I'm guessing that's what got you crying?” he asked, wondering what film it could've been
“It was a horrible film, Harry. Like…” you trailed off, grabbing his sleeve once again
He recoiled from your grabby hands and took his jacket off, handing it to you with a sheepish smile.
“And what film would that be, love?”
“Marley and Me.” you replied, blowing your nose again
Harry tried, I mean he really tried not laugh but it failed miserably. He let out a big laugh that was short-lived once he saw the expression on your face, that’s when he thought it wise to shut his mouth.
“Thought so.” you muttered, grabbing your phone to raise it to your face so you could see the damage done
Harry felt his heart rate pick up. All of a sudden he didn’t want you to see what he did, because he had a feeling you wouldn’t be laughing with him.
As if God had tuned in directly to his line of thought, he heard you say,
“Shit. My phone’s dead.”
You rushed out of your seat to plug your phone in, also catching a glimpse at the wall clock.
“Shit! Harry, I’ve gotta get to hair and make-up. I’ll catch up with you later.”
The door shut behind you and Harry breathed out a sigh of relief, he definitely had to take that picture down before you saw it. And that’s what he did, he took the picture down in seconds, it only lasted on his page for a solid twenty minutes.
But, alas, this was the internet and twenty minutes was just enough for everyone to see it and give out their opinions that no one asked for. It’s just a shame that Harry kept his phone too quickly, not even stopping to check on the numerous notifications that popped up since he posted your picture.
That wasn’t the issue though, the problem was what was on your phone, Harry glanced at it as it harmlessly rested on one of the counters. He didn’t have the chance to check on it as Tom walked inside the trailer.
“Y/N told me I’d find you here.” Tom smirked, crossing his arms over his chest
That snarky look on his older brother’s face would’ve ticked him off if he wasn’t so distracted.
“What?” Harry asked, trying to get around to your phone. Tom immediately noticed this.
“Oh, oh, hey.” Tom swung around and swiftly grabbed your phone, out of Harry’s reach
“Rule number one, mate. Never touch a girl’s phone without her permission.” he held your phone behind his back, expertly dodging his younger brother’s attempt at snatching it away
“Tom, wait-”
“You just leave it alone. Now come on. I need something to eat, catering’s down.” Tom grabbed Harry by the shoulders and steered him out your trailer door, despite his blubbering protests.
Harry gave your phone one last hopeless look before heading out with his annoying older brother.
“Y/N! That was great! Thank you, I think you’re done for the day.”
You gave Laura and Jon a hug before dutifully retiring to your trailer. Maybe one of the upsides to having a small role was that you got to head home before everyone else, actually, scratch that, it was definitely one of the upsides. Tom was always whining like the boy man child he was, about how exhausted the whole thing was for him.
You stretched your arms above your head as you walked through the lot, wondering what the rest of the day had in store for you. Your trailer was just how you left it earlier, your phone was still plugged into the socket.
You were just about to turn it back on when Harry came bursting through the door.
“Y/N!” he exclaimed, like he’d just caught you with your hand in the cookie jar
“Well, hello to you too, Harry.” you greeted him, regarding him cautiously. He looked a little shaken up.
Harry took a step towards you as you placed your finger on your phone’s power button, you eyed him warily. Just to test your theory, you lifted your finger from the button and placed it back, making him take another step towards you.
“Okay. What’s going on here?”
“Nothing! Nothing! What’s going on, Y/N?”
“What?”
The two of you shared confused looks then you burst out laughing.
“Harry, you are so weird!” you told him, finally powering on your phone
“Wait, Y/N. Uh, maybe-”
You held up a finger to silence him as you began to scroll through your hundreds of Instagram notifications. It was strange, you’ve never gotten this many in like, ever. Maybe you did, once when you posted that selfie with Zendaya and Tom the very first day of filming but that was a few days ago, what could all this be about?
Reading each comment carefully, you were shocked to see so many people you didn’t know saying such hurtful things about you. Most of them didn’t make any sense but the ones that did and the ones that were very eloquent in stating their hatred for you brought tears to your eyes.
Harry audibly gulped, he wrung his hands together in an attempt to curb his discomfort.
“What, what is this?” you shakily muttered, sniffling as you quickly swiped down, trying to get to the photo that everyone was hating on you for.
When you finally got to the top, you were shocked to see a picture from earlier today, with you sitting on your trailer couch, bawling your eyes out in front of the TV. You slowly lifted your gaze to Harry, and your eyes began to burn with anger.
“Why would you post this?!” you yelled, thrusting your phone towards him
He didn’t get the chance to pry it out of your hands as you began scrolling through the comments again.
“I took it down, Y/N. I’m sure I did.” Harry said in his defense
“‘What right does she have to be crying like that when she gets to hang out with Tom and Harry. What an ungrateful bitch.’” you read out one of the comments for Harry to hear
“‘What an ugly dumb ass hoe’?” your voice rose an octave higher. You just could not for the life of you find out why these people were being so cruel.
“Please just stop reading, Y/N. I don’t want to hear any more.” Harry said, running a hand down his face
“You don’t want to hear it anymore?!”
The fucking nerve of him to say that! This was his doing! This was his idiocy at work!
“Why the hell would you even do this, Harry?! I just, I don’t get it!” you yelled, tightening your grip on your phone, you wanted to chuck it at him
Harry was at a loss. He couldn’t muster up the courage to answer your questions, mostly because he didn’t really have a good reason. He just wanted to have a bit of fun with you, it just.. Backfired. Horribly.
“I am really sorry, Y/N. I am so so sorry. I didn’t know people were going to react like this. Y/N, please, I am so sorry. I-”
“Leave.” you cut him off, feeling like you were going to lose your head if he didn’t leave you alone.
“Y/N, come on. Just-”
“Harry, please go. Now.”
The steely look in your eyes made his heart plummet to the floor as he began to walk to the door. Harry had to do what you said. It was all his fault, it was the least he could do now. He stepped out into the bright afternoon, and he bumped right into Tom.
“What have you gone and done now, Harry?” Tom asked, scrolling down on his phone. Looking at all the hate you got, no doubt.
“Not now, Tom.” Harry grumbled, leaning against the walls of your trailer
Tom looked at his brother incredulously, “You’re bloody right, not now, you arse. Get in there and apologise!”
“She doesn’t want to see me.”
“Well, I don’t blame her! What the fuck were you thinking posting her picture like that?”
Harry definitely wasn’t feeling the big brother hat Tom was wearing right now. He knew he was in deep shit with you and he knew he needed to apologise.
“I wasn’t thinking! Alright! That’s what you want to hear and that’s the fucking truth. I’m an arse, I know!” he snapped, rubbing his temples
“Right. Well, it’s good that you know. Now go and do something about it. Apologise.” Tom yanked your trailer door open and shoved Harry inside
You heard a dull thud from where you stood inside the bathroom. You ignored it and clutched the edge of the sink tightly, knuckles almost turning white.
“Deep breaths, deep breaths.” you chanted to yourself, trying to hold yourself together
It wasn’t very helpful though. Tears were still making their way down your cheeks, you really wished that you hadn’t read all of those comments. You really fucking wished Harry wasn’t such an idiot.
“Y/N?”
Speak of the camera-wielding devil. A tired sigh left your lips as you turned to face him, you kept one hand on the sink for support.
“Didn’t I tell you to leave?”
Guilt once again knocked into Harry’s senses, stronger this time. The skin near your eyes was red from how harshly you had wiped your tears away but more was still coming. Harry cleared his throat and tried his best to efficiently verbalise what he needed to say.
“You did but I need to apologise, Y/N. What I did was stupid, and insensitive, and senseless. And I’m an idiot.” he hastily added that last part
You definitely agreed with him, nodding your head for him to continue.
“I’m sorry, Y/N. I didn’t mean to hurt you. I never want to hurt you. Please forgive me. I’ll get down on my knees if it would make you feel better.” Harry pleaded with you, his eyes desperately searching yours for any sign of forgiveness
You regarded him apprehensively. The whole thing really brought you down, even though it was ridiculous to listen to the famed “keyboard warriors.” You were new at this, and it was going to take some time for you to fully get over your so-called “haters.”
“Help me to the couch please? I’m feeling shaky.” you extended your hand out to him without letting go of the sink
Harry took your hand in his and his gentle touch brought a sense of calm to you, even though he was the root of all of this. He guided you gently to the couch and draped a blanket over you.
“May I?” he asked, gesturing to the space next to you
“Sure.”
As he sat down, you found yourself inching toward the heat that radiated off him, all the crying made you cold somehow.
“May I?” Harry asked again, extending his arms towards you
The fucker was being too cute. You rolled your eyes at him but nodded anyway and it turned out to be the right call. Warmth began to seep through your body and you nuzzled your head into his chest appreciatively.
“I’m really sorry, okay? I will never ever do that ever again.” Harry whispered to you, running his fingers along the length of your back
“The only pictures you’re posting of me next time are extremely flattering selfies, do you understand me?” you looked up at him pointedly
Harry nodded earnestly and placed a quick kiss on the tip of your nose, much to your surprise. You stared at him in shock but he just smiled at you cheekily.
“Yes, ma’am.”
------------------------------------------------------------------------
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#harry holland#harry holland x reader#harry holland fic#harry holland imagine#tom holland#sam holland#holland twins#hollander#quacksons#so so sorry
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Peacock Quotes
Official Website: Peacock Quotes
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• A few months ago, I had the pleasure of actually visiting the Playboy Mansion. I saw the peacocks, fed grapes to the monkeys, and even braved the fabled Grotto. After seeing the estate, I understood why anyone would be reluctant to leave. – Diablo Cody • A peacock escaped from the Central Park Zoo and wandered around the city. Either that or I just saw a pigeon on his way to a gay pride parade. – Jimmy Fallon • A peacock that rests on his feathers is just another turkey. – Dolly Parton • An example I often use to illustrate the reality of vanity, is this: look at the peacock; it’s beautiful if you look at it from the front. But if you look at it from behind, you discover the truth… Whoever gives in to such self-absorbed vanity has huge misery hiding inside them. – Pope Francis • And that’s how the Peacock saved the Chameleon – Ally Carter • As regards this vice, we read that the peacock is more guilty of it than any other animal. For it is always contemplating the beauty of its tail, which it spreads in the form of a wheel, and by its cries attracts to itself the gaze of the creatures that surround it. And this is the last vice to be conquered. – Leonardo da Vinci • At twenty a man is a peacock, at thirty a lion, at forty a camel, at fifty a serpent, at sixty a dog, at seventy an ape, at eighty a nothing at all. – Baltasar Gracian
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• Be motivated like the falcon, hunt gloriously. Be magnificent as the leopard, fight to win. Spend less time with nightingales and peacocks. One is all talk, the other only color. – Rumi • British men are peacocks. You see a lot more style on the streets here than you see anywhere else, on every level. – Tom Ford • But why wasn’t I born, alas, in an age of Adjectives; why can one no longer write of silver-shedding Tears and moon-tailed Peacocks, of eloquent Death, of the Negro and star-enameled Night? – Logan Pearsall Smith • Dear Alec and Magnus, This is the first postcard of five. Don’t freak out or anything, but I need you to send me $150,000 to cover the cost of: 1) Two diamanté crowns 2) 20 peacocks 3) 300 chocolate lollipops in the shape of your heads 4) My dress 5) 500 lbs of glitter 6) One white horse (More to come in other cards) -Isabelle – Cassandra Clare Death, Stars, Writing • Dream tonight of peacock tails, Diamond fields and spouter whales. Ills are many, blessing few, But dreams tonight will shelter you. – Herman Melville • For all the feminist jabber about women being victimized by fashion, it is men who most suffer from conventions of dress. Every day, a woman can choose from an army of personae, femme to butch, and can cut or curl her hair or adorn herself with a staggering variety of artistic aids. But despite the Sixties experiments in peacock dress, no man can rise in the corporate world today, outside the entertainment industry, with long hair or makeup or purple velvet suits. – Camille Paglia • Genius and virtue are to be more often found clothed in gray than in peacock bright. – Van Wyck Brooks • Hansel is certainly about comfort, while still sort of having a peacock principle of wanting to attract attention. – Owen Wilson • He said that people who loved [animals] to excess were capable of the worst cruelties toward human beings. He said that dogs were not loyal but servile, that cats were opportunists and traitors, that peacocks were heralds of death, that macaws were simply decorative annoyances, that rabbits fomented greed, that monkeys carried the fever of lust, and that roosters were damned because they had been complicit in the three denials of Christ. – Gabriel Garcia Marquez • Here is a kitchen improvement, in return for Peacock. For roasting or basting a chicken, render down your fat or butter with cider: about a third cider. Let it come together slowly, till the smell of cider and the smell of fat are as one. This will enliven even a frozen chicken. – Sylvia Townsend Warner • How come it can’t fly no better than a chicken?’ Milkman asked. Too much tail. All that jewelry weighs it down. Like vanity. Can’t nobody fly with all that [stuff]. Wanna fly, you got to give up the [stuff] that weighs you down.’ The peacock jumped onto the hood of the Buick and once more spread its tail, sending the flashy Buick into oblivion. – Toni Morrison • I am Plato’s Republic. Mr. Simmons is Marcus. I want you to meet Jonathan Swift, the author of that evil political book, Gulliver’s Travels! And this other fellow is Charles Darwin, and-this one is Schopenhauer, and this one is Einstein, and this one here at my elbow is Mr. Albert Schweitzer, a very kind philosopher indeed. Here we all are, Montag. Aristophanes and Mahatma Gandhi and Gautama Buddha and Confucius and Thomas Love Peacock and Thomas Jefferson and Mr. Lincoln, if you please. We are also Matthew, Mark, Luke, and John. – Ray Bradbury • I can live without it all – love with its blood pump, sex with its messy hungers, men with their peacock strutting, their silly sexual baggage, their wet tongues in my ear. – Erica Jong • I designed collections around whatever struck my fancy … fruits, vegetables, politics, or peacocks! – Lilly Pulitzer • I do not believe that any peacock envies another peacock his tail, because every peacock is persuaded that his own tail is the finest in the world. The consequence of this is that peacocks are peaceable birds. – John Ruskin • I don’t know if it’s animalistic or what, but men become like peacocks with their feathers up when women are around. – Bradley Cooper • I fear I must agree,” Magnus murmured. He pressed a hand over his heart and his new peacock-blue waistcoast. “I strive to find some respect in my heart for you, but alas! It seems an impossible quest. – Cassandra Clare • I just love the way the ’60s rock stars put themselves together, because they were like dandies and peacocks. They really lived out their fantasies – and dressed their fantasies. – Anna Sui • I know exactly how strong he is… He is like a peacock, spreading his feathers and squawking loudly to distract you from the back that his body is but weak.” -Jason to Mahiya – Nalini Singh • If a man knew anything, he would sit in a corner and be modest; but he is such an ignorant peacock, that he goes bustling up and down, and hits on extraordinary discoveries. – Ralph Waldo Emerson • If thou seest anything in thyself which may make thee proud, look a little further and thou shalt find enough to humble thee; if thou be wise, view the peacock’s feathers with his feet, and weigh thy best parts with thy imperfections. – Francis Quarles • If you get bored of doing it (Peacock Pose) with two hands, try it with one. – Dharma Mittra • It dances today, my heart, like a peacock it dances, it dances. It sports a mosaic of passions like a peacock’s tail, It soars to the sky with delight, it quests, Oh wildly, it dances today, my heart, like a peacock it dances. – Rabindranath Tagore • It is reported of the peacock that priding himself in his gay feathers he ruffles them up; but spying his black feet he soon lets fall his plumes. So he that glories in his gifts and adornings should look upon his corruptions, and that will damp his high thoughts. – Anne Bradstreet • It’s an awful stretcher to believe that a peacock’s tail was thus formed but … most people just don’t get it – I must be a very bad explainer – Charles Darwin • Le geai pare des plumes du paon. A bluejay in peacock feathers. – Jean de La Fontaine • Let me drive,” she said, reaching for the reins. He turned to her in disbelief. “This is a phaeton, not a single-horse wagon.” Sophie fought the urge to throttle him. His nose was running, his eyes were red, he couldn’t stop coughing, and still he found the energy to act like an arrogant peacock. “I assure you,” she said slowly, “that I know how to drive a team of horses. – Julia Quinn • Maggie threw her head back and laughed. ‘So you’re going to try…what? Birds of a Feather?’ she quested. ‘Of course not,’ Kat said. ‘Everyone knows the French government banned the importation of peacocks in 1987. – Ally Carter • Many a peacock hides his peacock tail from all eyes–and calls it his pride. – Friedrich Nietzsche • Men’s clothes are becoming kind of mod. They’re becoming more colorful and more flamboyant, and the male peacock is beginning to show his true plumage. – Liberace • Music really influenced me when I was growing up. I did go through a Jimi Hendrix phase. My hair was naturally quite afro, and I wore low-slung jeans with very high heels. Siouxsie and the Banshees had a lot to answer for. I was in a top hat with peacock feathers and thigh-high black boots. I was 17 — old enough to know better. – Helen McCrory • My heart is like a singing bird Whose nest is in a water’d shoot; My heart is like an apple-tree Whose boughs are bent with thick-set fruit; My heart is like a rainbow shell That paddles in a halcyon sea; My heart is gladder than all these, Because my love is come to me. Raise me a daïs of silk and down; Hang it with vair and purple dyes; Carve it in doves and pomegranates, And peacocks with a hundred eyes; Work it in gold and silver grapes, In leaves and silver fleurs-de-lys; Because the birthday of my life Is come, my love is come to me. – Christina Rossetti • My philosophy on what makeup is…it’s very different from what a woman’s is. Makeup came from a very psychological place – of the peacock. – Jeremy Renner • News is history shot on the wing. The huntsmen from the Fourth Estate seek to bag only the peacock or the eagle of the swifting day. – Gene Fowler • Only you could love such a vile, selfish peacock, Evie. – Lisa Kleypas Paradise, Way, Satan • Patterns drawn in ultraviolet might make those ordinary little petals into the exotic peacocks of the botanical world, and yet we cannot appreciate them. – Victoria Finlay • Peacock bass like to hide at ambush points, away from the strong canal currents. If you fish early and know those peacock hangouts, you will have little or no trouble catching peacocks on lures and live bait. – Mark Hall • Peacocks have the bright feathers. Fish have the long tails. Women have the mall. – Janette Rallison • People are crying up the rich and variegated plumage of the peacock, and he is himself blushing at the sight of his ugly feet. – Saadi • Play not the Peacock, looking everywhere about you, to see if you be well deck’t. – George Washington • Quinquireme of Nineveh from distant Ophir, Rowing home to haven in sunny Palestine, With a cargo of ivory, And apes and peacocks, Sandalwood, cedarwood, and sweet white wine. – John Masefield • Recently, while I was in England, I saw a documentary on the BBC about the border between India and Pakistan at Wagah. When the border closes each evening around six o’ clock, the soldiers on each side do these amazing high-stepping peacock march-offs (like a dance-off). The displays are almost identical on each side and thousands gather to watch them. Though they’re patrolling along their separate borders, what comes across is how similar they are. – Matthea Harvey • Ruin, weariness, death, perpetually death, stand grimly to confront the other presence of Elizabethan drama which is life: life compact of frigates, fir trees and ivory, of dolphins and the juice of July flowers, of the milk of unicorns and panthers’ breath, of ropes of pearl, brains of peacocks and Cretan wine. – Virginia Woolf • She is a peacock in everything but beauty! – Oscar Wilde • Simple DNA gradually morphed and evolved, so that you had the coming into being of ever more complex and diverse creatures, until one day you wake up and find there are peacocks and giraffes. Nature is an open-ended experiment based on morphing a DNA code, and ours is an open-ended experiment based on morphing a crochet code. – Margaret Wertheim • Skaters are very much like peacocks. – Jon Heder • Tell me about this Wizard Howl of yours.” “He’s the best wizard in Ingary or anywhere else. If he’d only had time, he would have defeated that djinn. And he’s sly and selfish and vain as a peacock and cowardly, and you can’t pin him down to anything.” “Indeed? Strange that you should speak so proudly such a list of vices, most loving of ladies.” “What do you mean, vices? I was just describing Howl. He comes from another world entirely, you know, called Wales, and I refuse to believe he’s dead! – Diana Wynne Jones • The Italians are fond of red clothes, peacock plumes, and embroidery; and I remember one rainy morning in the city of Palermo, the street was ablaze with scarlet umbrellas. – Ralph Waldo Emerson • The Italians have voices like peacocks – German gives me a cold in the head – and Russian is nothing but sneezing – Edward Bulwer-Lytton, 1st Baron Lytton • The masculine imagination lives in a state of perpetual revolt against the limitations of human life. In theological terms, one might say that all men, left to themselves, become gnostics. They may swagger like peacocks, but in their heart of hearts they all think sex an indignity and wish they could beget themselves on themselves. Hence the aggressive hostility toward women so manifest in most club-car stories. – W. H. Auden • The peacock in all his pride does not display half the colors that appear in the garments of a British lady when she is dressed. – Joseph Addison • The pride of the peacock is the glory of God. – William Blake • The pride of the peacock is the glory of God. The lust of the goat is the bounty of God. The wrath of the lion is the wisdom of God. The nakedness of woman is the work of God. – William Blake • The sparrow is sorry for the peacock at the burden of its tail. – Rabindranath Tagore • The sun fades like the spreading Of a peacock’s tail, as though twilight Might be read as a warning to those desperate For easy solutions.- John – Ashbery • The thing you fail to grasp is that people are not basically good. We are basically selfish. We shove and clamour and cry for adoration, and beat down everyone else to get it. Life is a competition of prattling peacocks enraptured in inane mating rituals. But for all our effacing and self-importance, we are all slaves to what we fear most. You have so very much to learn. Here. Let me teach you. – Christopher Nolan • There are eight different breeds of peacock. I have them all. – Bidzina Ivanishvili • There are no preconditions for jealousy. You don’t have to be right, you don’t have to be reasonable. Take Othello. He was neither right nor reasonable, and Desdemona ended up dead. I wouldn’t mind Leanne ending up dead. I wouldn’t mind exploding her into fireworks of peacock and pearl. – Franny Billingsley • To frame the little animal, provide All the gay hues that wait on female pride: Let Nature guide thee; sometimes golden wire The shining bellies of the fly require; The peacock’s plumes thy tackle must not fail, Nor the dear purchase of the sable’s tail. – John Gay • To Paradise, the Arabs say, Satan could never find the way Until the peacock led him in. – Charles Godfrey Leland • Turkeys are peacocks that have really let themselves go. – Kristen Schaal • We ask ourselves all kinds of questions, such as why does a peacock have such beautiful feathers, and we may answer that he needs the feathers to impress a female peacock, but then we ask ourselves, and why is there a peacock? And then we ask, why is there anything living? And then we ask, why is there anything at all? And if you tell some advocate of scientism that the answer is a secret, he will go white hot and write a book. But it is a secret. And the experience of living with the secret and thinking about it is in itself a kind of faith. – Vaclav Havel • We may put too high a premium on speech from platform and pulpit, at the bar and in the legislative hall, and pay dear for the whistle of our endless harangues. England and especially Germany, are less loquacious, and attend more to business. We let the eagle, and perhaps too often the peacock, scream. – Bill Vaughan • When the peacock has presented his back, the spectator will usually begin to walk around him to get a front view; but the peacock will continue to turn so that no front view is possible. The thing to do then is to stand still and wait until it pleases him to turn. When it suits him, the peacock will face you. Then you will see in a green-bronze arch around him a galaxy of gazing, haloed suns. – Flannery O’Connor • Who cares what a man’s style is, so it is intelligible,–as intelligible as his thought. Literally and really, the style is no more than the stylus, the pen he writes with; and it is not worth scraping and polishing, and gilding, unless it will write his thoughts the better for it. It is something for use, and not to look at. The question for us is, not whether Pope had a fine style, wrote with a peacock’s feather, but whether he uttered useful thoughts. – Henry David Thoreau • Women are a source of energy in life. I’ve always wanted to be in a war or baseball movie, but the thought of having no women on set for six months – that’s hell. I don’t know if it’s animalistic or what, but men become like peacocks with their feathers up when women are around. – Bradley Cooper
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Peacock Quotes
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• A few months ago, I had the pleasure of actually visiting the Playboy Mansion. I saw the peacocks, fed grapes to the monkeys, and even braved the fabled Grotto. After seeing the estate, I understood why anyone would be reluctant to leave. – Diablo Cody • A peacock escaped from the Central Park Zoo and wandered around the city. Either that or I just saw a pigeon on his way to a gay pride parade. – Jimmy Fallon • A peacock that rests on his feathers is just another turkey. – Dolly Parton • An example I often use to illustrate the reality of vanity, is this: look at the peacock; it’s beautiful if you look at it from the front. But if you look at it from behind, you discover the truth… Whoever gives in to such self-absorbed vanity has huge misery hiding inside them. – Pope Francis • And that’s how the Peacock saved the Chameleon – Ally Carter • As regards this vice, we read that the peacock is more guilty of it than any other animal. For it is always contemplating the beauty of its tail, which it spreads in the form of a wheel, and by its cries attracts to itself the gaze of the creatures that surround it. And this is the last vice to be conquered. – Leonardo da Vinci • At twenty a man is a peacock, at thirty a lion, at forty a camel, at fifty a serpent, at sixty a dog, at seventy an ape, at eighty a nothing at all. – Baltasar Gracian
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• Be motivated like the falcon, hunt gloriously. Be magnificent as the leopard, fight to win. Spend less time with nightingales and peacocks. One is all talk, the other only color. – Rumi • British men are peacocks. You see a lot more style on the streets here than you see anywhere else, on every level. – Tom Ford • But why wasn’t I born, alas, in an age of Adjectives; why can one no longer write of silver-shedding Tears and moon-tailed Peacocks, of eloquent Death, of the Negro and star-enameled Night? – Logan Pearsall Smith • Dear Alec and Magnus, This is the first postcard of five. Don’t freak out or anything, but I need you to send me $150,000 to cover the cost of: 1) Two diamanté crowns 2) 20 peacocks 3) 300 chocolate lollipops in the shape of your heads 4) My dress 5) 500 lbs of glitter 6) One white horse (More to come in other cards) -Isabelle – Cassandra Clare Death, Stars, Writing • Dream tonight of peacock tails, Diamond fields and spouter whales. Ills are many, blessing few, But dreams tonight will shelter you. – Herman Melville • For all the feminist jabber about women being victimized by fashion, it is men who most suffer from conventions of dress. Every day, a woman can choose from an army of personae, femme to butch, and can cut or curl her hair or adorn herself with a staggering variety of artistic aids. But despite the Sixties experiments in peacock dress, no man can rise in the corporate world today, outside the entertainment industry, with long hair or makeup or purple velvet suits. – Camille Paglia • Genius and virtue are to be more often found clothed in gray than in peacock bright. – Van Wyck Brooks • Hansel is certainly about comfort, while still sort of having a peacock principle of wanting to attract attention. – Owen Wilson • He said that people who loved [animals] to excess were capable of the worst cruelties toward human beings. He said that dogs were not loyal but servile, that cats were opportunists and traitors, that peacocks were heralds of death, that macaws were simply decorative annoyances, that rabbits fomented greed, that monkeys carried the fever of lust, and that roosters were damned because they had been complicit in the three denials of Christ. – Gabriel Garcia Marquez • Here is a kitchen improvement, in return for Peacock. For roasting or basting a chicken, render down your fat or butter with cider: about a third cider. Let it come together slowly, till the smell of cider and the smell of fat are as one. This will enliven even a frozen chicken. – Sylvia Townsend Warner • How come it can’t fly no better than a chicken?’ Milkman asked. Too much tail. All that jewelry weighs it down. Like vanity. Can’t nobody fly with all that [stuff]. Wanna fly, you got to give up the [stuff] that weighs you down.’ The peacock jumped onto the hood of the Buick and once more spread its tail, sending the flashy Buick into oblivion. – Toni Morrison • I am Plato’s Republic. Mr. Simmons is Marcus. I want you to meet Jonathan Swift, the author of that evil political book, Gulliver’s Travels! And this other fellow is Charles Darwin, and-this one is Schopenhauer, and this one is Einstein, and this one here at my elbow is Mr. Albert Schweitzer, a very kind philosopher indeed. Here we all are, Montag. Aristophanes and Mahatma Gandhi and Gautama Buddha and Confucius and Thomas Love Peacock and Thomas Jefferson and Mr. Lincoln, if you please. We are also Matthew, Mark, Luke, and John. – Ray Bradbury • I can live without it all – love with its blood pump, sex with its messy hungers, men with their peacock strutting, their silly sexual baggage, their wet tongues in my ear. – Erica Jong • I designed collections around whatever struck my fancy … fruits, vegetables, politics, or peacocks! – Lilly Pulitzer • I do not believe that any peacock envies another peacock his tail, because every peacock is persuaded that his own tail is the finest in the world. The consequence of this is that peacocks are peaceable birds. – John Ruskin • I don’t know if it’s animalistic or what, but men become like peacocks with their feathers up when women are around. – Bradley Cooper • I fear I must agree,” Magnus murmured. He pressed a hand over his heart and his new peacock-blue waistcoast. “I strive to find some respect in my heart for you, but alas! It seems an impossible quest. – Cassandra Clare • I just love the way the ’60s rock stars put themselves together, because they were like dandies and peacocks. They really lived out their fantasies – and dressed their fantasies. – Anna Sui • I know exactly how strong he is… He is like a peacock, spreading his feathers and squawking loudly to distract you from the back that his body is but weak.” -Jason to Mahiya – Nalini Singh • If a man knew anything, he would sit in a corner and be modest; but he is such an ignorant peacock, that he goes bustling up and down, and hits on extraordinary discoveries. – Ralph Waldo Emerson • If thou seest anything in thyself which may make thee proud, look a little further and thou shalt find enough to humble thee; if thou be wise, view the peacock’s feathers with his feet, and weigh thy best parts with thy imperfections. – Francis Quarles • If you get bored of doing it (Peacock Pose) with two hands, try it with one. – Dharma Mittra • It dances today, my heart, like a peacock it dances, it dances. It sports a mosaic of passions like a peacock’s tail, It soars to the sky with delight, it quests, Oh wildly, it dances today, my heart, like a peacock it dances. – Rabindranath Tagore • It is reported of the peacock that priding himself in his gay feathers he ruffles them up; but spying his black feet he soon lets fall his plumes. So he that glories in his gifts and adornings should look upon his corruptions, and that will damp his high thoughts. – Anne Bradstreet • It’s an awful stretcher to believe that a peacock’s tail was thus formed but … most people just don’t get it – I must be a very bad explainer – Charles Darwin • Le geai pare des plumes du paon. A bluejay in peacock feathers. – Jean de La Fontaine • Let me drive,” she said, reaching for the reins. He turned to her in disbelief. “This is a phaeton, not a single-horse wagon.” Sophie fought the urge to throttle him. His nose was running, his eyes were red, he couldn’t stop coughing, and still he found the energy to act like an arrogant peacock. “I assure you,” she said slowly, “that I know how to drive a team of horses. – Julia Quinn • Maggie threw her head back and laughed. ‘So you’re going to try…what? Birds of a Feather?’ she quested. ‘Of course not,’ Kat said. ‘Everyone knows the French government banned the importation of peacocks in 1987. – Ally Carter • Many a peacock hides his peacock tail from all eyes–and calls it his pride. – Friedrich Nietzsche • Men’s clothes are becoming kind of mod. They’re becoming more colorful and more flamboyant, and the male peacock is beginning to show his true plumage. – Liberace • Music really influenced me when I was growing up. I did go through a Jimi Hendrix phase. My hair was naturally quite afro, and I wore low-slung jeans with very high heels. Siouxsie and the Banshees had a lot to answer for. I was in a top hat with peacock feathers and thigh-high black boots. I was 17 — old enough to know better. – Helen McCrory • My heart is like a singing bird Whose nest is in a water’d shoot; My heart is like an apple-tree Whose boughs are bent with thick-set fruit; My heart is like a rainbow shell That paddles in a halcyon sea; My heart is gladder than all these, Because my love is come to me. Raise me a daïs of silk and down; Hang it with vair and purple dyes; Carve it in doves and pomegranates, And peacocks with a hundred eyes; Work it in gold and silver grapes, In leaves and silver fleurs-de-lys; Because the birthday of my life Is come, my love is come to me. – Christina Rossetti • My philosophy on what makeup is…it’s very different from what a woman’s is. Makeup came from a very psychological place – of the peacock. – Jeremy Renner • News is history shot on the wing. The huntsmen from the Fourth Estate seek to bag only the peacock or the eagle of the swifting day. – Gene Fowler • Only you could love such a vile, selfish peacock, Evie. – Lisa Kleypas Paradise, Way, Satan • Patterns drawn in ultraviolet might make those ordinary little petals into the exotic peacocks of the botanical world, and yet we cannot appreciate them. – Victoria Finlay • Peacock bass like to hide at ambush points, away from the strong canal currents. If you fish early and know those peacock hangouts, you will have little or no trouble catching peacocks on lures and live bait. – Mark Hall • Peacocks have the bright feathers. Fish have the long tails. Women have the mall. – Janette Rallison • People are crying up the rich and variegated plumage of the peacock, and he is himself blushing at the sight of his ugly feet. – Saadi • Play not the Peacock, looking everywhere about you, to see if you be well deck’t. – George Washington • Quinquireme of Nineveh from distant Ophir, Rowing home to haven in sunny Palestine, With a cargo of ivory, And apes and peacocks, Sandalwood, cedarwood, and sweet white wine. – John Masefield • Recently, while I was in England, I saw a documentary on the BBC about the border between India and Pakistan at Wagah. When the border closes each evening around six o’ clock, the soldiers on each side do these amazing high-stepping peacock march-offs (like a dance-off). The displays are almost identical on each side and thousands gather to watch them. Though they’re patrolling along their separate borders, what comes across is how similar they are. – Matthea Harvey • Ruin, weariness, death, perpetually death, stand grimly to confront the other presence of Elizabethan drama which is life: life compact of frigates, fir trees and ivory, of dolphins and the juice of July flowers, of the milk of unicorns and panthers’ breath, of ropes of pearl, brains of peacocks and Cretan wine. – Virginia Woolf • She is a peacock in everything but beauty! – Oscar Wilde • Simple DNA gradually morphed and evolved, so that you had the coming into being of ever more complex and diverse creatures, until one day you wake up and find there are peacocks and giraffes. Nature is an open-ended experiment based on morphing a DNA code, and ours is an open-ended experiment based on morphing a crochet code. – Margaret Wertheim • Skaters are very much like peacocks. – Jon Heder • Tell me about this Wizard Howl of yours.” “He’s the best wizard in Ingary or anywhere else. If he’d only had time, he would have defeated that djinn. And he’s sly and selfish and vain as a peacock and cowardly, and you can’t pin him down to anything.” “Indeed? Strange that you should speak so proudly such a list of vices, most loving of ladies.” “What do you mean, vices? I was just describing Howl. He comes from another world entirely, you know, called Wales, and I refuse to believe he’s dead! – Diana Wynne Jones • The Italians are fond of red clothes, peacock plumes, and embroidery; and I remember one rainy morning in the city of Palermo, the street was ablaze with scarlet umbrellas. – Ralph Waldo Emerson • The Italians have voices like peacocks – German gives me a cold in the head – and Russian is nothing but sneezing – Edward Bulwer-Lytton, 1st Baron Lytton • The masculine imagination lives in a state of perpetual revolt against the limitations of human life. In theological terms, one might say that all men, left to themselves, become gnostics. They may swagger like peacocks, but in their heart of hearts they all think sex an indignity and wish they could beget themselves on themselves. Hence the aggressive hostility toward women so manifest in most club-car stories. – W. H. Auden • The peacock in all his pride does not display half the colors that appear in the garments of a British lady when she is dressed. – Joseph Addison • The pride of the peacock is the glory of God. – William Blake • The pride of the peacock is the glory of God. The lust of the goat is the bounty of God. The wrath of the lion is the wisdom of God. The nakedness of woman is the work of God. – William Blake • The sparrow is sorry for the peacock at the burden of its tail. – Rabindranath Tagore • The sun fades like the spreading Of a peacock’s tail, as though twilight Might be read as a warning to those desperate For easy solutions.- John – Ashbery • The thing you fail to grasp is that people are not basically good. We are basically selfish. We shove and clamour and cry for adoration, and beat down everyone else to get it. Life is a competition of prattling peacocks enraptured in inane mating rituals. But for all our effacing and self-importance, we are all slaves to what we fear most. You have so very much to learn. Here. Let me teach you. – Christopher Nolan • There are eight different breeds of peacock. I have them all. – Bidzina Ivanishvili • There are no preconditions for jealousy. You don’t have to be right, you don’t have to be reasonable. Take Othello. He was neither right nor reasonable, and Desdemona ended up dead. I wouldn’t mind Leanne ending up dead. I wouldn’t mind exploding her into fireworks of peacock and pearl. – Franny Billingsley • To frame the little animal, provide All the gay hues that wait on female pride: Let Nature guide thee; sometimes golden wire The shining bellies of the fly require; The peacock’s plumes thy tackle must not fail, Nor the dear purchase of the sable’s tail. – John Gay • To Paradise, the Arabs say, Satan could never find the way Until the peacock led him in. – Charles Godfrey Leland • Turkeys are peacocks that have really let themselves go. – Kristen Schaal • We ask ourselves all kinds of questions, such as why does a peacock have such beautiful feathers, and we may answer that he needs the feathers to impress a female peacock, but then we ask ourselves, and why is there a peacock? And then we ask, why is there anything living? And then we ask, why is there anything at all? And if you tell some advocate of scientism that the answer is a secret, he will go white hot and write a book. But it is a secret. And the experience of living with the secret and thinking about it is in itself a kind of faith. – Vaclav Havel • We may put too high a premium on speech from platform and pulpit, at the bar and in the legislative hall, and pay dear for the whistle of our endless harangues. England and especially Germany, are less loquacious, and attend more to business. We let the eagle, and perhaps too often the peacock, scream. – Bill Vaughan • When the peacock has presented his back, the spectator will usually begin to walk around him to get a front view; but the peacock will continue to turn so that no front view is possible. The thing to do then is to stand still and wait until it pleases him to turn. When it suits him, the peacock will face you. Then you will see in a green-bronze arch around him a galaxy of gazing, haloed suns. – Flannery O’Connor • Who cares what a man’s style is, so it is intelligible,–as intelligible as his thought. Literally and really, the style is no more than the stylus, the pen he writes with; and it is not worth scraping and polishing, and gilding, unless it will write his thoughts the better for it. It is something for use, and not to look at. The question for us is, not whether Pope had a fine style, wrote with a peacock’s feather, but whether he uttered useful thoughts. – Henry David Thoreau • Women are a source of energy in life. I’ve always wanted to be in a war or baseball movie, but the thought of having no women on set for six months – that’s hell. I don’t know if it’s animalistic or what, but men become like peacocks with their feathers up when women are around. – Bradley Cooper
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