#mark mundy

[spiritually-cursed-sniper]

If I catch you round'ere again, it won't be pretty...

Mark, Sniper Class, RED Team. 32 (He/Him). 5'6.

"I don't know wot you've heard about me, but it's probably true. They say I've got sumthin' wrong with my head. Bloody morons, how could they not see what's roight there in fronta them?"

Mark grew up in an unstable household. When he was young, there was a terrible tragedy and ever since, shadows follow him everywhere...

No jobs would take him, rent was due. He took up marksmanship, taking jobs as a private for-hire mercenary. He got caught, locked up, beaten.

Mann Co. bailed him out and now he serves out his sentence paying dues in a war he had no qualms in.

[jessequinnfirstofhername]

okay that low-key sounds like a bad idea but what if you did a poll for the ugliest character so the whole purpose of propaganda would be to be possibly meanest to your unfave

What a great idea @leftcolornacho! I'm going to implement it in the worst way possible!

Thank you @femmefighter for helping me pick options, and for warning me I was about to get enough hate-mail to build a Death Star replica with.

This is a one-and-done poll. Choose your votes wisely, and please keep the death threats to a respectful minimum ;)

-Jesse xx

In case I wasn't clear enough: this is a joke. If I see people taking this seriously I'm gonna die laughing and then nobody will be able to hand out emoji medals when the hottest man/woman polls wrap up.

[guardianreadersofthegalaxy]

Mundy: You need to shoot me... or [picks up a fork] fork me?! Ruby: I'm not going to fork you Mundy, it's too weird Mundy: You've got to fork something... fork my leg! Mundy: Fork it to smithereens! [from Peep Show]

[sw5w]

Members of the Jedi Council

STAR WARS EPISODE I: The Phantom Menace 02:09:11

[xtruss]

Mappa Mundi: The Greatest Medieval Map In The World

— By Anna Bressanin | Wednesday February 14, 2024

Credit: CalimaX/Alamy

From a small island in the Venetian lagoon, a 15th-Century monk somehow designed an astonishingly accurate planisphere of the world.

On the second floor of the Library of Saint Mark in Venice, a map of the world occupies an entire room – and rightfully so, considering its historical significance and imposing size (2.4m x 2.4m, bigger than a king size bed). Completed in 1459, the Mappa Mundi is the compendium of all the geographical knowledge of the time and is arguably the greatest medieval map of the world.

Almost twice as large as the famous English Hereford Mappa Mundi (ca 1300), this exquisitely decorated planisphere showcasing Europe, Africa and Asia was the masterpiece of Fra Mauro, a monk of the Camaldolese order who lived on the small Venetian island of San Michele.

Although the monk never set foot outside Venice, his Mappa Mundi is amazingly accurate in its depiction of cities, provinces, continents, rivers and mountains. America isn't on the map, since Christopher Columbus would take his trip across the ocean 33 years later; and nor is Australia. But Japan (or in Fra Mauro's words, "Cipango") is there, making its first appearance on a Western chart. Even more surprisingly, Africa is correctly drawn as circumnavigable, long before the Portuguese rounded the Cape of Good Hope in 1488.

"It's the oldest surviving medieval map," said Meredith Francesca Small, author of the book Here Begins the Dark Sea, also describing it as the most complete medieval map to survive into modernity. "It's the first map to be based on science more than religion. The Hereford map is all propaganda, religious propaganda."

While the Hereford map depicted Heaven and Hell and was designed to serve as a compendium of the world's knowledge from a spiritual perspective, Fra Mauro took a scientific approach to his cartography. He declared in his inscriptions that he would "verify the text by practical experience, investigating for many years and frequenting personas worthy of faith who have seen with their own eyes what I faithfully report here".

There's more than scientific and historical relevance to it, though. The most striking aspect of the map, which immediately catches your eye after ascending the white marble stairs of the Library of Saint Mark, where some of the world's most precious and ancient manuscripts are kept, is its sheer splendour.

"It's huge, beautiful, fantastically crafted," said historian Pieralvise Zorzi. Beyond the outlines of countries and continents, Fra Mauro's Mappa Mundi is a magnificent golden and blue painting composed of minute drawings of gorgeous palaces, bridges, sailing ships, rolling blue waves and outsized sea creatures, plus a total of 3,000 cartigli – red and blue annotations written in ancient Venetian that tell stories, anecdotes and legends.

In Norway, for instance, a cartiglio indicates the location where the Venetian merchant Pietro Querini came ashore after a shipwreck. As the tale goes, he not only survived the accident, but he brought stockfish back home, thus starting the Venetian passion for baccalà (the creamy fish spread you can find in every osteria).

The Exquisitely Decorated Mappa Mundi measures an impressive 2.4m x 2.4m. Credit: Bildagentur-online/Getty Images

Another cartiglioindicates Tharse, the "kingdom where the Magi came from", then thought to be located somewhere between China and Mongolia.

All these annotations are legible on the map, and are relatively easy to decipher for Venetian speakers since the current dialect is not dramatically different from the idiom of the 15th Century. However, the inscriptions are also translated into English on an interactive map created by the Galileo Institute and Museum in Florence. Displayed on a flat screen in the same exhibition space as the Mappa Mundi, it provides the somewhat peculiar experience of entering the mind of a savant monk and reading the world through his medieval eyes.

It was not a small world. Although Fra Mauro lived his entire life in his island monastery in the lagoon backwaters, he tapped into the knowledge of travellers and merchants who crossed paths in the flourishing trading city of Venice that was "the capital of cartography at the time", explained Saint Marks librarian Margherita Venturelli.

“Maps Were Fundamental For Trade Because If You Have A Good Map, You Can Go Everywhere”

"Maps were fundamental for trade because if you have a good map, you can go everywhere," added Zorzi. "Every innovation in terms of cartography was welcome in Venice, and well-paid."

The Library of Saint Mark is home to one of the world's most significant collections of classical texts. Credit: Mo Peerbacus/Alamy

Fra Mauro's main source for Asia was merchant and fellow Venetian Marco Polo, who had published his travel accounts more than 150 years earlier. On the map, 150 locations are directly traceable to Marco Polo's Travels; for instance, the Mount of Adam was placed in the island of Ceylon (today's Sri Lanka), where, according to legends recounted by Polo, the first man's body was believed to be buried, together with his teeth and even his bowl, which was supposed to have the magical property of multiplying food.

Besides Polo, Fra Mauro had numerous sources around the globe. The fact that the chart looks upside down to contemporary Western eyes, with the south on top, might indicate that he was inspired by Arab cartography, like a 12th-Century map by North African geographer Muhammad al-Idrisi. The numbers that Fra Mauro lists as "the Distance of Heavens" are from mathematician and astronomer Campanus de Novara. "From the centre of the world to the surface of the Earth there are 3,245 miles. From the centre of the world to the lower surface of the heavens of the Moon there are 107,936 miles," and so on, he writes in the top left corner of the Mappa Mundi.

Fra Mauro also displayed a healthy scepticism and wasn't shy of criticising – as well as sometimes using –the revered Ptolemy's Geography, a treaty written in Alexandria, Egypt, by Claudius Ptolemy in 150 CE and lost for centuries to the Western world until it was rediscovered and translated in Latin again in the 1400s.

Fra Mauro's main source for Asia was merchant and fellow Venetian Marco Polo. Credit: The History Collection/Alamy

This Renaissance rationalist attitude also showed in the way he placed Adam and Eve in the Garden of Eden outside of the planisphere, making it clear that Heaven is not a place on Earth; a statement that separated religion and geography and was forward thinking for any medieval man, let alone a monk.

These novelties, and the fact that the map was completed few decades before Christopher Columbus sailed to America, contribute to Fra Mauro's Mappa Mundi being considered the geographical link between the Middle Ages and the Renaissance. To contemporary visitors, his map is a reminder of the fact that maps were once not only practical tools, but also a matter of beauty – and a way to tell the most extraordinary stories.

[graphicpolicy]

Weekly Preview! It's another potluck week!

Weekly Preview! It's another potluck week! See what's coming to GPTV! #comics #comicbooks #manga #graphicnovel

There are a lot of comics coming out every week to be covered. Check out some of what we’ll be reviewing and this is only the beginning! This week’s reviews include: Graphic Public Health: A Comics Anthology (Graphic Mundi) The Return of Mark Hamill (Jack in the Box) Shy Vol. 1 (Yen Press) Welcome to Feral: Little Town. Big Scares! (Holiday House) Not shown: The Beginning After the End…

[dipnotski]

Mark O’Connell – Kıyamet Notları (2024)

En kötü senaryoların gerçekleştiği bir zamanda yaşıyoruz: İklim acayipleşti. Bir pandemi, küresel topluluğumuzu durma noktasına getirdi. Her yere baktığınızda bir alamet, finali kıyamet olan kurgular görüyoruz. Böylesine kasvetli bir geleceğin gölgesinde insan nasıl yaşayabilir? Mark O’Connell, bu soruya kafa yorarken cevabı bulmak için dünyanın dört bir yanına seyahat ediyor; kâh Güney…

[rodspurethoughts]

Check out the trailer for True Detective: Night Country

True Detective: Night Country | Official Teaser | Max True Detective: Night Country is a compelling and captivating crime drama that centers around the disappearance of eight men from the Tsalal Arctic Research Station in Ennis, Alaska. The detectives, Liz Danvers (Jodie Foster) and Evangeline Navarro (Kali Reis), must dig deep into the darkness within themselves and the secrets hidden beneath…

[elcineblue]

Easter Bunny Massacre (2021)

[katsona-the-katsequel]

Persona Fun Facts

These are all taken from the fanbooks and novels.

So far in the series, the protagonists have managed to avert between seven and eleven "Ends of the World".

Nanako does notice her flan is missing, but assumes she ate it earlier and forgot.

Yukki has at least three younger siblings.

Dr. Nicholai, the guy who helped create the Deva System, is jewish.

Sae practices kickboxing as a hobby.

Nyarlathotep also made deals with King Solomon, Napoleon, and the actual Hitler.

The project that saw the kidnapping of 100 children to create Persona Users was called the "Artificial Persona Users Research Project"... not very original.

Theodore once adopted a shadow and named it Mochi. This shadow became so powerful it adopted the name of "Near Death".

In the Persona timeline, Tatsuzou Sudou replaced Yōhei Kōno as the Minister of Foreign Affairs, though he wouldn't be able to complete his term.

The Demon Painter first entered the Velvet Room by painting a blue door in his canvas. It is probable he finally managed to paint the Fool Arcana before P3 and left the Velvet Room, having nothing left to learn there.

The saleslady of Anima Mundi has the hots for Tatsuya.

Masataka, Maya's father, died in the Soviet-Afghan War when she was eight.

Ken has stated he wishes he had a Death Note.

Mark drew those marks under his eyes himself.

Minato sometimes muttered in his sleep about how "the end is coming". Mitsuru noticed and it worried her.

Katsuya began baking because it made baby Tatsuya happy.

Sojiro wanted to give Morgana the name of a foreign actor or singer he liked.

Ann doesn't cook because she always makes too much and its always just how she likes it, which causes her to overeat.

Shinjiro doesn't remember his Awakening.

Reiji is such a momma's boy his favorite food is listed as "Mom's home cooking".

Katsuya wakes up at 5:30. He always tries to wake Tatsuya at 7:30, but Tatsuya doesn't get up until 9.

Ken's mom once met and saved one of the kids who was part of the Artificial Persona Users Research Project.

Kubo was given a suspension from Morooka for a week, which hurt Kubo's pride so much he transferred.

If Innocent Sin and Eternal Punishment are considered one long game, then their events did take place over the course of a year like the newer games, from May~ of 1999 to February of 2000.

All of this happened in the same year: Labrys and later Aigis were built, the events of P2:IS took place, Ryuji and Ann were born, the Dark Hour was created, and construction of Gekkoukan High School began.

[saphronethaleph]

Longform Statistical Analysis

“Master Nu,” Windu said, with a smile. “It’s nice to see you in the Council Chambers once more.”

“Thank you,” the librarian replied, inclining her head. “Unfortunately, I bring dire news.”

“...you do?” Windu asked, worried now. “What kind of dire news?”

“Dire news coming out of the library is usually either trivial or an absolute disaster,” Ki-Adi-Mundi contributed. “Which is it, so we can decide how worried to be?”

“Quite possibly, both,” Nu told him. “To summarize… Masters, two years ago we discovered that the Sith were not extinct. With this in mind, I have been engaged on a long-term project – I evaluated data about the discovery, admittance, tenure and ultimate loss of every single Jedi for which we have data. Every one in our archives.”

“Now I understand why it took so long,” Even Piell said. “In fact, I credit your skills for taking so little time. That must have been… what, a thousand years… there are ten thousand knights now… hundreds of thousands of Jedi total?”

“Around that,” Nu confirmed. “But the problem is… this. This is the number of active Jedi at any one time, during the first hundred years after Ruusan.”

Her holoprojector activated, showing a kind of flow diagram made out of strands of light. Light yellow marked those newly discovered and accepted as initiates, green padawans, blue for knights and purple marked those who were masters. The tiny Order, wounded but triumphant in the years immediately after Ruusan, was reborn and swelled as it gained more members and those members it had reached greater degrees of Mastery.

“Two hundred years,” Nu went on, as the diagram swelled and zoomed out. The growth was slower now, harder to see on the same scale, but the Order pulsed in colours of green and blue and purple as the Golden Age of the Republic continued.

“...you said this was dire?” Adi Gallia asked.

“We’ll get there,” Nu said, accelerating the projection a little.

As it ran forwards, decade after decade passing by until it approached the present, Master Yaddle leaned forwards in her seat.

She wasn’t the only one. It was subtle, almost imperceptible, but the Jedi Order – which had swelled to enormous, triumphant scale during the Golden Age – had begun to contract again.

By the time it reached the present day, it still possessed deep reserves of strength, but the colouring was… just a little different. The purple of Mastery was less common, though the blues and greens of Knighthood and Padawan were still fully present, and Nu manipulated her controls a bit more.

A second strand appeared, this one much thinner and more intermittent. And, as time tracked towards the present, it went from a shading of mostly blue hundreds of years ago to shades that were a little more green.

“This is the members of our Order who left our ranks due to their death,” Nu explained. “While the differences year-to-year are so minor that I would hesitate to describe them as meaningful, when given the long view and looked at in aggregate the effect is clear.”

She folded her arms. “The Sith faced by Knight Kenobi is the anomaly – an open Sith attack which makes no pretensions as to what they are. This is what I would call a true threat, Councillors. Not a single Sith who seeks to kill individual Jedi in a duel, but a centuries-long program of gradual, subtle, pervasive damage to the Jedi Order, chiefly through the loss of Padawans before they become Knights.”

“You think the Sith are behind this?” Ki-Adi-Mundi asked.

“Behind any given casualty?” Nu asked. “...no. I have no proof I could offer, though a detailed examination of the loss of any given Padawan may conclude that there was some other factor behind their death. Behind the whole pattern? I think it’s quite possible, Master Mundi. We know the Sith can plot and plan for something for a thousand years, and there are only two targets for such a plot that make any sense – ourselves, and the Republic.”

She met the gaze of each councillor in turn. “If this is not due to the Sith, my friends, then we must ask ourselves – what is? They have been doing something for ten centuries and we know nothing about it.”

After a slightly dismayed silence, Yoda tapped his gimmer stick on the floor.

“Much to think about, we have,” he said. “Master Nu – more to say, have you?”

“Yes,” Nu replied. “My presentation, I hope, serves as a reminder that the Sith did not appear out of nowhere two years ago. They have been doing things over the last thousand years, and it is quite possible that we have run into their machinations without identifying them as such… it would be a great mistake to generalize from the Sith defeated by Knight Kenobi.”

“...hmm,” Windu said, frowning. “During the interrogations of Nute Gunray. He said that his actions were based on a shadowy figure pressing him to get a treaty signed by Queen Amidala of the Naboo. That treaty would have benefitted the Trade Federation, but nobody else.”

“The wording of the treaty, benefit the Trade Federation, it would,” Yaddle said. “The existence of the treaty – benefit someone else, perhaps?”

In his office, Sheev Palpatine paused halfway through reading a law.

He had the strange feeling that he’d just been betrayed by his greatest ally. But that was nonsense, since the closet thing he had left to a true ally was paperwork…

[callie-the-creator]

being bigby wolf’s mate would include… (sfw and nsfw)

nsfw below the cut. mdni. warnings: tried to make the reader as gender-neutral as possible, mentions of jealousy, creampie, heat cycles, aggressive smut, biting, etc.

author’s note: i cannot wait for the second game to be released. i’m so excited! 💗

sfw:

• you are one of bluebeard’s ex-partners, having escaped him and avoided decapitation in the old days. sadly though, you didn’t get to meet bigby when he was in his prime— only heard stories and legends about him— until you along with all the other fables moved from the homelands to the mundy world.

— more specifically, you were brought into questioning since you knew a thing or two about brutality against women (which is exactly what was happening with the working girls at the pudding & pie, like faith) and you helped snow and bigby’s investigation at times…

• that’s how you two acquainted yourselves.

• it should also go without saying that you are filthy rich and since you’ve grown an attachment to sheriff bigby, you came to find out that he lives in the smallest apartment in the woodlands, you’ve invited him over to your place countless times at the beginning of your relationship so he can get out of that crowded space and sleep in an actual bed.

— that and colin can be a real pain in the ass. it’s good for bigby to be away from him, even if it is for a few days.

• bigby always found you to be attractive. it was a bit part of your fairytale back in the homelands, but he tried not to show his attraction toward you…but it was hard for others not to pick on the big bad wolf after they see him tucking a strand of hair behind your ear, helping you out of cars, holding doors for you, having a special soft spot for you, all sorts of chivalrous shit.

• you two ended up being a thing a few days after the investigation about faith and the crooked man came to an end. more specifically, you were outside with bigby when all of a sudden you were pushed by a mundy and you lost your footing. luckily, bigby was able to catch you and pull you close to him, cursing the blatant rudeness of the mundy, under his breath before checking up on you to see if you were okay.

— then, what followed was you two looking deeply into one another’s eyes before you wrapped a hand around bigby’s tie and pulled him closer, kissing the sheriff.

nsfw:

• i want to say that bigby’s libido is average. nothing too unbearable, but as soon as spring rolls around, it does a complete 180° and bigby becomes the epitome of needy.

— during this time, he can be a bit rough, he gets way more animalistic than usual and there are times when bigby takes a brief vacation from work just so he can pound you all day, leaving you unable to walk on your own.

— his favorite thing to do is to put you into a mating press, so he can penetrate you deeper as he fills your hole with his cum. the alternative, of course, is him mounting you.

• he always wants to be able to mark you, in some way, whether that be by leaving bite/scratch marks all over your body or hickeys. it’s bigby’s way of telling the world that you’re already taken and satisfied sexually.

• it’s hard to hide whenever you’re in the mood from bigby because of how strong his sense of smell is. once he catches a whiff of your arousal, he almost loses all strength in his body, his mouth watering, but if he’s in a public setting, it takes every fiber of his being to go against of his instincts and you know the power you hold over him at times like this because of the way bigby stares at you, raptured with barely contained lust.

• it’s only when bigby regains his senses, he apologizes for being so rough on you (he is scared that because of how rough he can be, he’s a terrible mate and you’ll want to leave him for someone better). soooo…he tries his hardest to make it up to you by doing whatever you want him to, amping up his arm, and overall being super gentle and sweet.

[loveinhawkins]

passing period

ao3 written for @steddiemicrofic May 2024 prompt, “top,” 510 words. Rated G, Missing Scene, post season 1, cw: brief mentions of nausea & vomiting.

The sleepless nights catch up with Steve eventually. He doesn’t know what pushes him over the edge exactly—whether it’s the brightness of the hallway, or even the movement of his bag, the strap rubbing against the bare skin of his shoulder—just knows that he’s tilting suddenly, mid-step.

Before he can slam against the lockers, he feels a hand around his forearm, a quiet, “Bathroom?”

Steve nods through clenched teeth.

He flings his bag off just in time as he’s steered into a stall—promptly throws up into the toilet.

It’s over in what feels like a blink; more time must’ve passed though, because the usual chatter in between classes has faded away.

Over the flush of the toilet, Steve hears a voice outside the stall, “You contagious, Harrington?”

Steve rubs one eye. “No,” he says curtly.

“Darn. Was hoping for a ticket outta class.”

Steve opens the door to find Eddie Munson leaning by the sinks. He’s got Steve’s bag slung over his shoulder, safe from the clinging damp of the tiles.

“Dude, you’re gonna be so late.”

Eddie checks his watch lazily. “Nah, I like a dramatic entrance. Always fun watching the light leave O’Donnell’s eyes.”

“Doesn’t she, like, take marks off for shit like that?” Steve says passively, washing his hands—it just seems like the kind of thing to ask, especially since most seniors have been hurrying around all December, faces pinched with stress.

Evidently not Eddie Munson.

“Yeah, don’t think that’d make a difference,” he says, and maybe the smile doesn’t quite reach his eyes this time. “Not exactly top of the class.”

Steve shrugs in vague acknowledgement. Briefly presses his palms to his eyes, blessedly cool from the water—doesn’t really think anything of it until he drops his hands, sees Eddie just looking at him, a slight crease to his forehead.

Steve feels far too drained to even try and figure out whatever he’s noticed.

“You okay?” Eddie asks quietly.

Steve doesn’t know what to do with the question, too bare in its sincerity; there’s no expected space for him to make a quip back, to play it off.

“Just tired,” he says, “that’s all.”

“Mm-hmm, that’ll kill ya in the end,” Eddie says, sing-song.

Freak, Steve thinks mildly.

“Hey, uh, who d’you have right now, Harrington?”

Steve has to think about it, his timetable hazy.

“Um… Mundy.”

Eddie makes a face. “My condolences.”

As Steve dries his hands, he hears the rustle of paper, a quick pen scrawl.

“Here,” Eddie says.

Steve turns. Eddie’s holding out his bag to him; Steve takes it, before being handed something else: a hall pass bearing a convincing copy of Mundy’s signature.

“In case anyone gives you shit. Folks are still kinda, y’know,” Eddie wiggles his hand back and forth, “since the whole Will Byers thing.”

“Yeah,” Steve says. “I know.” He folds the hall pass. “Um, thanks. How much—?”

But Eddie waves him off. “Nah, that’s your free sample.” He opens the bathroom door, glances back with parting words: “And I’d take full advantage, Harrington. Go home and sleep.”

[parasiticstars]

Bored so here’s a bunch of Star Wars headcanons I have; specifically for the Jedi Council members. Some of them are absorbed from other people

Ki-Adi-Mundi is really really really tired of people asking him how many extra square feet of fabric it takes to make the robe cover his head. If you MUST know, it’s not feet, and it’s exactly f—

Yarael Poof, however, just makes up increasingly outlandish measurements. If it’s a youngling, he also says his head can retract in on his neck like a telescope. That usually makes them stop

The Best Jedi Council Tea Cups™ are made by younglings during assigned craft time. They’re janky and colorful and covered with fingerprints and smoosh marks and smudged paint and somehow, tea in them just tastes better

You can almost taste the joy and love they imbued into the cups. It’s an honor to be gifted a cup by a youngling

Yoda has a bookshelf of them. Very proud of them, he is, hrmmhrmm

We jest about Aayla’s oversexualized outfit (as we should), but considering this one post where it points out that Jedi robes are very similar to farmers’ which means they’re basically going to summits and in the battlefield in overalls, that means she’s walking around everywhere in like. Lululemon.

Which isn’t much better but it’s kinda funny to think about imo

Kit Fisto (like all nautolans) breathes through his skin like a frog. He’ll use this to justify walking around tits out as often as possible

He also can’t spend much time in Coruscant due to the heavily polluted air. Makes him sick after a week

I seriously think if you threw a ball Oppo Rancisis would have to hold himself back from chasing it, if not have others hold him back. Crusty toothless white dog headass

The real reason Anakin wasn’t allowed on the council was because they knew he’d do exactly that to him

[artandthebible]

The Baptism of Christ

Artist: Andrea del Verrocchio and Leonardo da Vinci

Date: 1472–1475

Medium: Oil on Wood

Collection: Uffizi Gallery, Florence

The Baptism of Christ is an oil-on-panel painting finished around 1475 in the studio of the Italian Renaissance painter Andrea del Verrocchio and generally ascribed to him and his pupil Leonardo da Vinci. Some art historians discern the hands of other members of Verrocchio's workshop in the painting as well.

The picture depicts the Baptism of Jesus by John the Baptist as recorded in the Biblical Gospels of Matthew, Mark and Luke. The angel to the left is recorded as having been painted by the youthful Leonardo, a fact which has excited so much special comment and mythology, that the importance and value of the picture as a whole and within the œuvre of Verrocchio is often overlooked. Modern critics also attribute much of the landscape in the background to Leonardo as well.

The picture depicts the Baptism of Jesus by John the Baptist on the banks of the Jordan River. There are two kneeling angels, one holding Jesus's garment, and the other with its hands folded, both in front of the symbolization of salvation and life, the palm tree. While barefoot in the river, John the Baptist is clothed in robes with a halo over his head. He is holding a staff with a gold cross at the top as he pours the river water on Jesus's head. Jesus has a halo over his head as he is depicted praying barefoot in the river. He has a small garment covering his genitals with visible pubic hair peeking through scroll by John's left hand contains the two Latin words "ECCE AGNIUS", a reference to a phrase in the description of Jesus' baptism in the Vulgate translation of John 1:29, Ecce agnus Dei, qui tollit peccata mundi ("Behold the Lamb of God which taketh away the sins of the world"). There is also a bright-eyed raptor that swoops down over the head of John and into the trees in the background. God's hands can be seen at the top of the painting coming from heaven as it opens up. A dove and rays of sunlight shine through which symbolize the holy spirit shining above them revealing Jesús's divine nature.

[who-knew-a-sheep-can-write]

Warmth in the Sheets: Bigby Wolf x Reader (Semi-NSFW)

He didn’t deserve something like this.

He didn’t deserve warmth and comfort for his despicable crimes against his own people, his own kind - if you could even consider any of them to be his own kind. Every time he even thought of that or even hear the mutter whispers of Fables on the streets, he would find himself smirking sarcastically ever so slightly.

Because they’re not his kind. None of them are his kind; his kind died when he was left alone after his mother passed and his brothers vanished. None of them knew what it was like to grow up the way he did, and because Fables - the ones who appear mostly mundy that is - judge him as though he were lower than them. They fear the unknown, and yet, they poke around in the darkness and act as though they’re innocent when the ugly truth comes barreling out (albeit as a giant wolf the height of a house). Princes and Queens and Fable royalty scoff and sneer at him as though he is their unruly guard dog.

But that’s what he is, isn’t he?

An unruly guard dog who has to beat the shit out of Fables who once ruled enchanted kingdoms and Fables who were the most popular and liked of all. Or as the plaque on his crumbling, cigarette-stained wall states: Sheriff of Fabletown.

But in all of the stenches that makes up lower Manhattan and the filth that Fables bring in from the mundy world, he had finally found a safe haven in all the spit and rot that was this cruel world.

Through softly patterned curtains, sunlight filtered through, seeping through the slightest part in the drapes to shine onto his eyes. Screwing them closed didn’t help, so the wolf simply let out a grumble deep from his throat and cracked his eyes open.

His body laid mostly naked, wrapped in the softest sheets he had ever felt, softer than how he remembers his mother’s fur. The bruises and scratches and scrapes had closed somewhere throughout the night, the aches had ebbed away into nothingness. He laid there in pure bliss, one of the few little luxuries he got when he didn’t stay in his crumbling apartment.

Bigby took in the scents of the cushioned pillow cradling his head, hints of soft lavender and roses dancing with a scent even nicer on his nose. The sheets were no better, smelling wonderfully, tickling his nose.

In this room, he had no need to reach for the crumpled cigarette carton and lighter that sat on the end table with his wallet and phone. In this room, he no longer felt the painful blows battered onto his solid body. In this room, for the first time in a very long time, he felt safe.

Bigby turned over, the sheets twisting at his cut waist and over his board back, the wolf no longer wanting sun in his eyes. He wanted something else in his field of view, to which he got immediately.

There was a figure in the bed with him, almost fully naked like himself with just underwear on. The blankets were barely covering anything, allowing Bigby’s eyes to roam. Wolfish brown eyes trailed the nape of the neck downwards, along the spine which had been slightly twisted by the sheets to the legs tangled in them. There were some marks on their back, some you barely would notice to ones that stated obviously what had happened the night before. From little bruises the size of quarters to red raised carvings down your back, the signs were all there.

The scent radiating off of them was heavenly, music to his nose. Their heartbeat in his ears was like a steady soft drumming.

Bigby reached a hand over the small space between his person and the other Fable in the room. Roughened fingers gently - the only time he was gentle really - wrapped around their shoulder, thumb rubbing small circles into the meat of their shoulder which earned him a small moan from their sleep. He would be lying if he didn’t feel slightly bad for waking them up, but it was only slightly.

He didn’t feel this with anyone before. He didn’t feel this with Snow.

He didn’t feel safe, he didn’t feel loved. He felt like he was being used if anything when it came to how Snow was with him.

But you; you actually cared. You were one of the few Fables who didn’t actively give him trouble or berate him or treat him like dirt. You didn’t judge him on his past, you didn’t poke and prod.

You twisted around too, the sheets now off, both of you finding it too warm in the room for them to be on the bed. Your eyes had peeked open just a bit, just enough for him to see the color of your irises through your fluttering eyelids as you blinked away the sleep and dreams.

He remembered when he first saw you for the first time since coming here. He had come to your apartment with questions about an unruly neighbor causing issues, and you had even invited him in for coffee.

He remembered when you two first kissed in the darkened hallway right outside of your apartment door, the neon lights from outside filtering in. You two had gone out to some bar to hang out and he had wanted to walk you back to your front door.

He remembered when you two first made love in your apartment, the aftermath was worse for you than him. The markings on your body were hard to hide and explain, and he enjoyed every second of it.

“Morning,” you purred, your voice still dripping with the clingings of sleep and exhaustion you attempted to shake off.

“Morning,” he echoed back.

His voice was still scratchy, dark and gravely. His eyes lingered down to your neck. There were red blotches on your throat, but his eyes mostly trained on the bite mark settled at the crook of your neck. Sure there were more marks all down the rest of your body but that was his favorite he left on you.

“Proud of your little art show?” you huffed sarcastically as you rubbed at the still sore bite mark. Bigby only growled softly, the wolfman snaked his hand down to your waist and dragged you in closer to him. He could feel the heat radiating off of his body bouncing off of you, no wonder why there was no need for the sheets if he was around. The corners of your lips curled into a slight smirk, Bigby could see it reflect in your eyes. His puppy brown eyes had tinged to a bright gold, his pupils had dilated to the size of near-pinpoints. He felt you shiver with lust under his grip. “My my, Mr. Wolf, how big your eyes are.”

Bigby jolted and had pinned you to your bed all of a sudden. His big hands and wrapped around your wrists and pinned them to the sides of your head while he straddled you by your waist. Your eyes were full of lust, he could smell it dripping off of you, it was all over in the air that he swore he could lick it. He leaned down, his grit teeth now a mouth full of sharpened teeth barely brushed over your sensitive neck.

“And how do you plan on explaining these?”

Before you could coyly ask him to elaborate, Bigby clamped his fangs down on the opposite shoulder, yanking out a pleasureful cry from you.

Bigby sat at the small kitchen table, carefully sipping scorching hot coffee as he eyed the news playing on the small tv on the kitchen counter. It was some mundy bullshit happening that weekend, some festival, Bigby didn’t really pay attention to that kind of crap. He just needed the background noise as he glanced back down at the file on the tabletop.

He was suddenly interrupted by a plate full of various breakfast foods being placed on top of the police file he was just looking at, everything still steaming with warmth and love.

“Police work can wait,” you hummed, handing him a knife and fork, “you need to eat.”

Bigby playfully rolled his eyes and took another sip of his coffee. You had turned back to the stove, allowing Bigby to catch a glimpse of you.

You were wearing one of his white button-ups unbuttoned with nothing else but socks and underwear on.

As Bigby took a big bite of food, he couldn’t help but close his eyes and just sit there.

In utter, unspoken delight, he knew he was safe and loved and happy.

And home.