#nicholas scratch images

[riovidalharkness]

A long time ago, I loved someone. And I had to do something I did not wanna do, even though it was my job. And it hurt them. She is my scar.

[mari-thesapphic-lady]

Not me seeing agathario fandom start making fanfics in ao3 where Rio gets trapped in the Hex with Agatha and thinking innocently: "Wow, it would be very, very extremely psychologically painful and so fucking full of cuteness if Wanda's spellwork gave them, idk, like, maybe, DAUGHTERS, wouldn't be?!"

[feal-the-grinch]

(Quote from The Baby Loss Guide by Zoe Clark-Coates)

[keepinitreal4]

I'm rewatching the chilling adventures of Sabrina

[echstacy00]

LATE NIGHTS: nicholas alexander chavez

18+smut!!!

(completely obsessed with his side profile can you tell?)

[12;45am]

“your nose is so pretty."

you find yourself mumbling at your boyfriend before your brain can even overthink those words and yet you're glad you didn't hesitate.

there's absolutely no reaction from nicholas for a whole minute as you absentmindedly trace his sharp features with your fingers, not quite able to handle just how handsome he is.

you've been observing his side profile for a while now and every time your eyes found their way to his nose, you couldn't help but bite your bottom lip at the mental image of its tip nudging against your clit whenever he's got his face buried in your cunt.

nicholas has been trying to memorize his new script for about an hour now and despite wanting to give him some space, you simply couldn't resist the craving of being close to him.

it's not like he minds your presence at all; nicholas loves having your legs in his lap and your hand in his hair, playing with the soft beautifully light brownish strands as he enjoys his daily screen time away from all of his incone responsibilities.

usually you're quick to fall asleep, yet this time you seem to focused on him to even let the actual thought of sleep cross your mind.

you know it's because you can't stop thinking about your boyfriends lips, his hot tongue and his perfect nose, your head full of thoughts about how good he makes you cum over and over again once he's gotten a taste.

whereas nicholas remains absolutely clueless. he's also a little too focused to pay complete attention to your words but he does appreciate any compliment coming from your way. ever since the two of you started dating you've made it your mission to remind him how perfect he is

nicholas places a quick kiss of gratitude into your palm before he pushes his lips into a thoughtful pout and focuses on the littered papers in front of him again, not realising how much you've been pressing your thighs together in hope of releasing some of the pressure on your needy cunt

there's just something about the way he scratches the sides of his nose whenever he's slowly turning to the next page, poking the inside of his cheeks with his tongue and nibbling on his lip like he's purposely trying to torture you.

"babe." you mumble sternly and reach for his hand, grateful he's quick to play into your neediness as he grabs your inner thigh and gently strokes your skin,

"i wanna ride your face, please."

usually you're not one to be this bold with your requests but after watching him for the past hour it's been incredibly hard for you to maintain your composure and even your patience has limits.

nicholas is absolutely stunned at your words. for a second he's not sure if he even heard you right, giving you a double take just to realise your current state.

eyes glossy, lips pushed into the cutest pout, thigh firmly pressed together and your cute nipples poking through the fabric of your pyjama shirt to the point where not a single thought is left to imagination.

just out of curiosity nicholas lets his hand wander in between your legs, gulping harshly at the way they fall apart like you've been waiting to be relieved and once his fingers graze your soaked panties, he knows exactly why you're reacting the way you do.

without even missing another beat, nicholas throws his controller as well as his headset to the side, turning his game off and almost instantly laying on his side of the bed.

"I'm sorry for not realizing sooner, baby", he whispers as you shakily make your way to straddle his handsome face, his cheeks and lips tinted in the sweetest shade of pink, "there you go, baby."

his praise elicits a soft whimper from your throat, your hole clenching in absolute despair and the second the tip of his nose grazes your flesh, you throw your head back with a loud moan of relief.

"fuck, baby", nicholas grunts against your cunt, his tongue lapping up your sweet juices and if it wasn't for his tight grip on your waist, you would have thought he passed

out, "you're so wet for me, angel, so perfect." all you can do is whimper in response, grabbing a fistful of his hair and grinding yourself against his tongue, whining every time his nose nudges your hardened clit.

"you're so wet for me, angel, so perfect."

all you can do is whimper in response, grabbing a fistful of his soft hair and grinding yourself against his tongue, whining every time his nose nudges your hardened clit.

"that's why you love my nose so much, hm?", nicholas smile turns into a smirk as he pushes his tongue inside of your clenching hole, groaning and moaning against your wet flesh like a man gone mad.

"mhm, y-yes", you whisper and feel the sweet wave of your release climbing up your spine in the sweetest way possible. "love sitting on it."

and for a moment nicholas movements stop, as he appreciates your sweet compliment, head cloudy from all the arousal floading his brain and his cheeks burning from excitement.

"that's my good girl", he grunts and finally wraps his lips around your sensitive clit before he pushes the tip of his tongue against the nub and applies just the right amount of pressure, making sure to have you cum all over his face to make you feel as loved and appreciated as he does.

 genesisxc 2024 — all rights reserved. do not modify, repost, translate, or plagiarise my content.

[agatharkn3ss]

Blink and you miss it - clues on Nicholas Scratch

I'm currently working through the episodes looking for clues, trying to make more sense of what could actually be going on. And I've been finding some real gems!

One of them is this short but very interesting moment - when Agnes O'Connor returns to her office at the precinct. One moment we see a plant with a rabbit next to it (see lower left). The next second the plant is replaced with a photo of a young boy. Then, just as quickly, the next time we see that spot, the plant is back and the picture is gone.

I am not quite sure yet of the meaning of this quick transition at this point in the spell.

But it's the only image we have of Nicholas Scratch so far. I don't think it could be anyone else - by now we all probably realise all those images of rabbits around Agatha's house are a link to Nicky - there was even a rabbit right next to his "school award" in his bedroom.

Also, there was another scene just after Agatha came out of her spell and found Senor Scratchy in the basement - just in that briefest of moments we hear the same music that played when Agnes O'Connor was looking into her son's bedroom (I call it now "Nicky's theme").

Nicky must have loved rabbits and Senor Scratchy must have been his pet - I imagine both Agatha and Rio helped him come up with that name. OR Nicky was originally Spanish (maybe he was born there?) and that's why Rio and Agatha sometimes use Spanish phrases, a little memory of their son.

Side-note: Rabbits in some pagan beliefs were associated with fertility, as well as rebirth and resurrection. So I wonder if maybe this is somehow linked to how Nicky was created in the first place?

(Crazy thought - if Agatha did actually walk the Road before - which I still have big big doubts about - how cool would it be if it was her and Rio because they wanted to have a child together? So because they weren't seeking power, the Road looked completely different to them than what they are going through now? Unlikely, but cool! Though it would be that much more heart-breaking to lose their son after that effort)

[beelze0-0]

I bury my own heart

Here with you, my child

CW: death

(ID: image 1: a still life of a pomegranate, a small knife, and dandelions image 2: an overhead scene of Rio Vidal and Nicholas Scratch lying partially submerged in dark water, surrounded by foliage, bodies in a state of decomposition end ID)

[deathbxnny]

Soo do you remember when Boothill came out, so many people (me included) compared him to Arlechinno and say that he’s “genderbent Arlechinno” despite being literally the opposite of her?

:)

Can i request Boothill with an Arlechinno!reader as a twin sibling?

Context:

Boothill and the reader are twins and they are the absolute opposites despite they’re similar appearances. One is loud and brash while the other is quiet and stoic, one is a normal kid while the other is for some reason cursed? No one in their little family knew why or how the reader have a curse but there wasnt much they can really do about it. Regardless, Boothill and the reader are as thick as thieves, never seen without the other. But then the IPC came and blew up their planet which finally seperated the two twins. The reader somehow survived bc of their curse but now they sometimes glitch (like how Arle does in her idle animation). Now the reader nor Boothill knows that the other survived for a while but then they bumped into each other and you can take the reins from here

Hope you have a lovely day/night!

(Somehow im in a Boothill fever.. i blame Nicholas (DanHeng’s VA) for his damn Boothill song)

- Flower Anon 🌸

Oooh, I really love this idea, Flower Anon!! I have to admit, though, that I struggled writing this so bad, so I'm sorry if it turned out horribly.

Thank you otherwise for your request and sorry it took so long!!<3

Content: Platonic relationships, twin sibling reader, angst, vague mentions of Boothills past, sfw

Reader has no set pronouns!

((Not proofread))

The summer we died in. (Boothill x Twin!Reader)

"If I didn't know yer so well, I would've maybe been shocked to see you alive." Your brother's southern drawl shook memories awake in your mind. Memories that had been left slumbering in the fields of your old home, under the warm sun and in the tall grass. And yet... you didn't feel anything.

"... I suppose I could say the same thing about you -" "-Boothill. That's the name now." You hum dully as you crossed your arms and turned your head away from the confused Trailblazer in front of you to look at him. You had come to Penacony for business, or rather revenge, only to be dragged into its mess on accident. You therefore didn't expect to see the remnants of your formerly dead brother standing before you.

But could you even consider him alive in the state he was in now? A blurry image of what he looked like once came to mind, yet melted away just as fast. You didn't actually remember how he looked like anymore.

"Boothill then."

Silence filled the air, the tension thick and suffocating, yet neither of your gazes faltered. You just... didn't know what to say. There was a time in which you'd childishly dream of seeing him again, the way you'd throw yourself into his arms and then return with him to your families farmhouse. You'd act like nothing happened, become the siblings again that you always were.

But the realisation that it was all just that, a dream, made you press your lips together in the near... disappointment? You should've known better than to become so disillusioned from everything, and yet the reality still hurt you deep, deep down, under the endless layers of your curse.

"Uhm... my apologies, but you know eachother?" Robin asked carefully, seemingly saying exactly what your other companions had been thinking. Your gaze thoughtfully shifted around the twisted yet nostalgic landscape of the dreamscape, not knowing how to answer. You knew eachother once. But now? You weren't sure. You had never met "Boothill". And your brother, therefore remains dead.

Said man scratched his head awkwardly. "Uh yeah, that's my twin -" "-Reallyyy??? You guys don't look nor act alike at all!" March gasped out, only to be quickly hushed by Dan Heng and the Trailblazer. "... Hah, did ya hear that? Things never change!" Boothill grinned at you the way he used to, another memory of pranks and mischief under the moonlight filling your head again, which you just waved away. "Some things don't. But most do... How did you make it?" "Always so straight to the point." Your brother's grin widened as his relief and excitement began seeping through at last. His shoulders relaxed, eyes crinkling with a familiar spark you found yourself nearly stepping away from.

"But let's just say I'm after the same man you are." Ofcourse he'd know exactly what you were in Penacony for. You were one in the same when it came to your wrath. You wanted revenge for your lost family and for eachother, unknowing of the others' fate beyond death. You would've found it funny if you could have felt anything at all.

"Right." You didn't want to know more than that yet. "How'd you get in? Doubt you swam in that lil' pool all the way here." He hummed, which made you tilt your head. Why was he so casual? Why was he acting like neither of you had died? That both of you were together all along throughout the years you missed? It was bizarre and yet so awfully fitting. "... Remember the curse?" You held up a clawed hand that glitched through the force of the dreamscape. You couldn't remember what made you gain this ability, having woken up this way after the catastrophe. But it came in handy in moments like these.

Robin raised a hand to her chin. "You... were able to bypass the dreamscape and just enter it?" "Yes." You replied, and Boothill chuckled at that. "Wish you got that sweet ability sooner. Would've helped us out lots during the ol' days." You stared ahead, nearly through him. Was he trying to cope with your appearance before him this way? Was he trying to deflect the realisation that he wasn't totally alone after all? You didn't know what to think.

"... Let's go together. I overheard your part of the plan from the Trailblazer, and time is running out. If we want to defeat Mr. Sunday, then we have to get going." You said, voice as intimidating and cold as it used to be. It seemed to snap everyone out of their confused daze as they proceeded with the plan. Boothill met your gaze amongst the general commotion of your companions quickly speaking over eachother before taking their own respective leaves.

You stood there, seemingly stuck on how to proceed, which felt so out of character for you. You were used to ordering people around, intimidating them, and demanding the near impossible. But here you were now, speechless and hesitant. Did this perhaps hit you harder than previously expected? Boothill just tipped his hat and led the way automatically, another memory flickering of him doing the same during your nightly pranks. You'd sneak out and hop over the wooden fence surrounding your home to bother your old, grumpy neighbor. Those days were always so warm, the summer heat seeping into the night that began to cool off on your skins.

Those days never seemed to end. It was never cold. Always warm, scorching warm. Burning, flames, smoke filling your lungs and then total destruction.

"-Remember that day? The last one." Yes, you did. It's all you thought about during your travels. It's what fueled your revenge. You said nothing in reply, but he didn't mind. "It was warm. Last day of summer they said but it didn't feel like it to us." The false night sky of the dreamscape stretched out over the extravagant city. You looked down on the dreamers who decided to live a lie rather than face reality. There was a time in which you'd find them pathetic, but now you see yourself in their crowd, gazing right up at you with an equally as unreadable face.

"It was the summer we died in. So I guess they were right. It was our last day." He loaded his gun and raised it to the sky, his body turned away from you. The bright lights below illuminated his sides, hair flowing in the wind whilst the hat covered his eyes. It was a foreign image, one you couldn't recognize. "Why... are you like this?" You asked after a moment of consideration, but what you really meant was why he didn't even feel affected by you being alive all along.

Yet then again... you didn't know if you felt anything either.

Despite your differences, you were the same deep down, he was right there too. And deep down, you realized too late that you weren't the same you used to be either. Death had taken you both. You weren't siblings here. You weren't related at all. The only thing connecting you was his shadow you stood in. But even that did little to shake you physically.

"Because it doesn't matter anymore who died that summer." He shot the flare into the air, hundreds of lights beginning to fill the night sky soon after. He looked back at you with a wild, unrestrained grin. "What matters is that we get the revenge we need for the dead, ain't that right? That's something your serious behind would say, at least."

You couldn't help but dully chuckle then. It was barely heard, so weak he could've nearly missed it, but he didn't. Stepping up next to him, out of his shadow, you gave him the faintest smile.

"You're right, Boothill... Let's get revenge for those who died that summer."

[heckcareoxytwit]

Scarlet Witch, Wiccan, Speed and Amaranth are having an outing at the festival in New Salem of Colorado. Amaranth is feeling uncomfortable about socializing with others. Speed makes rude and insensitive remarks as he is trying to cope with losing Prodigy in a breakup. Just when Amaranth and Wiccan look at the cats, one of the cats become aggressive and scratches Amaranth on the arm. Then, Scarlet Witch and the others are surrounded by the people in New Salem and before they could do anything, they get sucked into the dimensions. Scarlet Witch sees the images of her sons and her apprentice in danger and she is taunted by the mysterious voice. Scarlet Witch fights off some demons until she finds the culprit behind the tricks is none other than Nicholas Scratch the evil sorcerer. Nicholas shows Scarlet Witch the images of Wiccan, Speed and Amaranth held hostage as well as he forces her to choose which of the youngsters she must save. Scarlet Witch rejects in choosing the sadistic choice and fights Nicholas Scratch in a duel. Nicholas Scratch seemingly defeats Scarlet Witch by ripping her body apart with his magic. However, Scarlet Witch also has her trick up her sleeve when she splits herself into three copies to save Wiccan, Speed and Amaranth while the original Scarlet Witch faces Nicholas Scratch by herself. Just as Nicholas Scratch retreats from her, he is stopped by Amaranth who freezes him on the spot, allowing Scarlet Witch to defeat him.

Scarlet Witch v4 #7, 2024

[flurry-of-beaus-pop-pop]

The more that I look at/ponder the images that has everyone convinced that Rio is going to betray Agatha, the more I am convinved that it's Rio's trial or at least part of Rio's trial.

1. We have pictures of Rio and Agatha in rather exaggerated versions of their typical outfits (Agatha in the purple gown, Rio in the black) which would support it being a trial, becsuse whenever they have been in "costumes", its been a trial, this one is just one where whatever they're needing to overcome is as close to it gets to reality (which honestly makes complete sense because I truly believe the core conflict at the center of this entire show is Agatha and Nicholas and Rio)

2. We also have photographs/video of Agatha seemingly looking triumphant during what seems to be a similar setting (her looking up triumphantly with her face scratched), which can support the idea of it being Rio's trial if she succeeds, because that means it would be the last trial and she reaches the end of the road.

3. This entire show is based around what Agatha did to her coven and the daughters of those witches chasing Agatha. Yes, I 100% think Agatha had motives for getting to the end of the road completely outside of the Salem Seven, but being able to stop them is a biggie. As of right now, they haven't had a major role in anything outside of just us being reminded they are there. I definitely think this is going to change and they are going to become more prominent and would not be remotely shocked if they were the final conflict and part of those scene with Agatha and Rio are actually them battling the Salem Seven

4. Narratively speaking, if the final conflict is not with the Salem Seven, then it has to be with Billy in some capacity. You don't introduce the dude that is supposed to essentially become the leader of the Young Avengers (a group that is getting their introductions) and not have him be involved in the ending somehow. Also, just narratively speaking, as things stand currently, there's nothing that points to it making sense for Rio to betray Agatha. The deal going in was Agatha got what she wants, and Rio gets dead bodies. Obvioudly things can change in the next four episodes, but there's nothing that points to that now.

[blueiscoool]

King Tut’s Iconic Death Mask Was Intended for Someone Else

Research from the University of York points to an "overlooked clue" hiding in plain sight.

Tutankhamun’s death mask is one of the most-recognized images around the globe. Measuring 21 inches tall, inlaid with a detailed mosaic of precious stones, and featuring a 5.5 lb golden beard, the artifact is surely one of the world’s most iconic objects. But researchers think that the pharaoh’s ears may be hiding a secret in plain sight.

The death mask was found in 1925 by the Egyptologist Howard Carter during his excavations of Tutankhamun’s tomb which his team rediscovered in 1922 in the Valley of the Kings near the city of Luxor. Carter’s records are kept at the University of Oxford’s Griffith Institute which was established 17 years after Carter first discovered Tutankhamun’s tomb as the center for Egyptology at the university, named after the university’s first Professor of Egyptology, Francis Llewellyn Griffith.

Tutankhamun, known as the “Boy King,” came to the throne aged just nine and ruled Egypt for around nine years between ca. 1332 and 1323 BCE. He was riddled with ailments including scoliosis and a cleft palate, thought to be due to his parents being brother and sister.

But new research out of the University of York suggests that the mask was not originally designed for the young Pharaoh, and was instead intended for a regal female burial—perhaps Tutankhamun’s stepmother Queen Nefertiti who died before Tutankhamun, though no specific date for her death is known. This theory hinges on one key detail of the death mask: Tutankhamun’s pierced ears.

Piercings were typically only found on the death masks of female rulers and children. Lead researcher Professor Joann Fletcher said in a documentary for History Hit in 2022 that “research suggests that the King wouldn’t have worn earrings beyond childhood, so by the age of 20 when he died he would not have been portrayed with pierced ears” calling the pierced ears of the mask a “long-overlooked feature”.

When compared, the gold used on the face of Tutankhamun is entirely different to the gold used on the rest of the mask, suggesting—as Fletcher put it—that Tutankhamun’s face was “effectively grafted on” to the pre-existing mask of a previous—and likely female—ruler.

There is no doubt, however, that the likeness is of King Tut, as the likeness of a death mask was considered imperative should the person’s soul be able to be reunited with their body for judgement by the god of funerary practices and guide to the underworld, Anubis, after their death.

“I was sure the death mask was not specifically designed for King Tut”, Fletcher said.

Fletcher suggests that the originally intended recipient of the mask could be the Pharaoh Nefertiti, who married and ruled alongside Tutankhamun’s father Pharaoh Akhenaten. This theory was first proposed in 2015 by the British Egyptologist Nicholas Reeves. There is scholarly debate about whether Nefertiti ruled as pharaoh on her own for a short time between her husband’s death and Tutankhamun ascending to the throne. Nefertiti’s tomb has never been discovere

The reason for this make-do-and-mend approach to the burial of, at that point, the most powerful and wealthy man in Egypt may be due to the suddenness of his death, aged around 19. Theories on Tutankhamun’s cause of death have included murder, but it is currently believed that he passed away from malaria and an infection the young ruler developed after a serious chariot crash which left him with a broken leg at the time of his burial. The lack of preparation for this death may have led to the decision to alter a pre-existing mask rather than commission a new one from scratch. Other details suggesting that Tutankhamun’s burial was hurried were patches of paint on the walls of his tomb which would have still been wet when the tomb was sealed.

The mask is kept in the Grand Egyptian Museum in Cairo, which re-opened last month after an 11 year delay.

By Verity Babbs.

[dragonomatopoeia]

Air's End-of-Year Youtube Video Rec-List Round-Up

In light of recent events and also because I wanted to, I have put together a rec list of various (mostly longform) videos that I've enjoyed this year. Not all of these videos were released this year, however-- I just happened to see them for the first time in 2023. For readability and quality of life purposes, I have put this list under a readmore and divided the videos up by category, then creator, which means that some youtube channels might appear in multiple categories

I reserve the right to edit this later as I remember more videos, but I feel comfortable publishing it as is, considering it has almost 100 videos on it at this point

Cooking

Get Curried Chili Garlic Rosemary Chicken Recipe | How to Make Chili Garlic Rosemary Chicken at Home | Prateek Anardana Chicken Recipe | Delicious Himachal Style Anardana Chicken Recipe at Home | Chef Prateek Old Delhi Style Tangdi Kebab | How to Make Indian Starter Tangdi Kebab Recipe | Chef Prateek Dhawan

How to Cook That The $10 Million dollar lie (Betty Crocker) Debunking the Pink Sauce Controversy | How To Cook That Ann Reardon Top 7 Best Easy Lemon Recipes 🍋 | How To Cook That Ann Reardon Toxic Foods promoted on TikTok! | How To Cook That Ann Reardon Why is Pyrex exploding? | How To Cook That Ann Reardon

Library of Congress' Youtube Channel El Camino del Mole a New Orleans El Camino del Pan a Baltimore

Immaculate Bites LEMON BUNDT CAKE FIRECRACKER SHRIMP

Simply Mamá Cooks 3 EASY Beef Pot Roast Recipes perfect for the cold weather EASY Chicken Tamales Recipe | How To Make Tamales Easy NO-KNEAD Soft Dinner Rolls + FLUFFY From Scratch Milk Rolls Recipe Zuppa Toscana Recipe EASY | Olive Garden Potato Sausage Soup Recipe

Fraud, Grifts, and Scams

FoldingIdeas Contrepreneurs: The Mikkelsen Twins The Future is a Dead Mall - Decentraland and the Metaverse In Search Of A Flat Earth This is Financial Advice

Maggie Mae Fish Is the "Off-Grid" Lifestyle a Lie??

Münecat I Debunked Every "Body Language Expert" on Youtube The Problem with Tony Robbins (Deep-Dive - Pt.1) The Problem with Tony Robbins (Deep-Dive - Pt. 2)

Super Eyepatch Wolf The Bizarre World of Fake Martial Arts The Bizarre World of Fake Psychics, Faith Healers, and Mediums Influencer Courses are Garbage: The Dark Side of Content Creation Tom Nicholas Griftonomics: Why Scams are Everywhere Now

We're In Hell A History of Spam on the Internet Hustling America: I Can't Believe This Show Is Real The Problem with Voluntourism WE Charity & the Nonprofit Industrial Complex

Gaming

Hbomberguy Halcyon Dreams: The Legacy of Dragon's Lair

Jacob Geller Games that Aren't Games How Can We Bear to Throw Anything Away?

Li Speaks An Exploration of the Avata Star Sue-niverse It's Time For You To Play Flash Games Again The Strange Case of Kissing and Flirting Games Untangling the Lore of Devilish Hairdresser

Mandaloregaming The Mystery of the Druids: A Bizarre Adventure Game

People Make Games The Games Industry Must Not Stay Silent on Palestine Investigation: Who’s Telling the Truth about Disco Elysium? Working at Valve: 'A Fearless Adventure' or 'Lord of the Flies'?

PowerPak Dead Space 3 Is Worse Than I Thought King's Quest - The First Adventure Game King's Quest 2 - A Bridge Too Far... MyHouse.WAD - Inside Doom's Most Terrifying Mod Squirrel Stapler is Absolutely Nuts Tunic is Deceptively Brilliant

Super Bunnyhop Perusing Pentiment's Boisterous Bibliography

History

BobbyBroccoli The image you can't submit to journals anymore

Cambrian Chronicles Wikipedia's King who Doesn't Exist

Defunctland Journey to EPCOT Center: A Symphonic History

Elliot Sang How Tea Became European McMindfulness: When Capitalism Goes Buddhist

Intelexual Media Creating The Conservative New Right In The 1970s A Buffet of Black Food History

Kaz Rowe A Deep Dive into the Deadly World of Victorian Patent Medicine Why Have So Many People Seen Ghost Ships? Why the Myth of the Library of Alexandria Is Wrong

Kendra Gaylord 500 years of dollhouses and what it meant to teach girls Alice Austen, the 1880s photographer: her house, her photos, her love life What happened to cheap food? Diners, Automats, and affordable eating

Nerdsync Bonkers origins of superhero memes The Scandalous REAL Origin of Superman's Lois Lane Superman's Uncomfortable History with Nuclear Weapons

Premodernist Advice for time traveling to medieval Europe

Stepback History How The Vietnam War Birthed a Generation of White Terrorists OK Fine I’ll Talk About Ancient Apocalypse

Tantacrul Notation Must Die: The Battle For How We Read Music

Film and Television

Be Kind Rewind How Breakfast at Tiffany's Turned into a Totally Different Movie | Adapting a Classic Casting the Women of Valley of the Dolls | PT 1 The Making of Valley of the Dolls | PT 2 How the "Old Ladies N' Hijinks" Subgenre Became a Thing How a "Sacrilegious" Film Changed Hollywood Forever... So I watched BLONDE... Why Tallulah Bankhead Never Became a Movie Star

Big Joel The Song That Broke West Side Story

Cherrybepsi Can We Kill the Final Girl Trope Already?

Hazel weird & kinda scary tokusatsu girls

Jane Mulcahy The Lunacy of Teen Wolf (Part 1) What is the 'psycho biddy' genre?

Maggie Mae Fish BLACK CHRISTMAS Before & After "Me Too" The War on "Woke" Hollywood: A History of Blacklists and Strikes Why is Clint Eastwood

Princess Weekes Black Trauma vs. Black Horror Why Are There So Many Confederate Vampires? Why Don't Worry Darling Doesn't Work ...

Shanspeare EUPHORIA: Sam Levinson’s Unfulfilled Fantasy The Girlboss-ification of the Horror Genre TikTok Femininity Coaching and Aestheticizing Racism

Science and Technology

BobbyBroccoli The $21,000,000,000 hole in Texas The man who faked human cloning How to catch a criminal cloner

Eastman Museum's Youtube Channel Photographic Processes Series

Technology Connections What's the deal with the popcorn button?

Practical Engineering How Flood Tunnels Work What's the Difference Between Paint and Coatings? Why Is Desalination So Difficult? Why Railroads Don't Need Expansion Joints

[na-t0]

𝘚𝘪𝘯𝘯𝘦𝘳

Nicholas D. Wolfwood x reader (fem)

nsfw . male masturbation . multiple mentions of religious themes . minors please do not interact

"I believe in God, the Father almighty, creator of heaven and earth...shit, what's next?"

Despite of what others think, Nicholas D. Wolfwood has come to the conclusion that he is indeed, the perfect example to belie the thought commonly held by people that him, and all the other children of the Lord who is high in the heavens, are made in his image and likeness. He is just a man, a mere mortal, vulnerable and weak in the face of temptation, son of original sin. Trying to atone for, and amend, the errors that life has brought within his path, and from which he cannot seem to escape.

Same life that unfortunately has also placed him in the way of your so intoxicating self. As if it were an unforgivable and cruel test to endure the strength of his already cracked spirit, a test to prove how much he is capable of resisting when the sharp claws of lust slowly scratch his back when he tries to sleep and the image of your beautiful face invades his mind. He also claims being able to feel them scratching once again when, after what seems like an eternal week of waiting, he manages to spot you sitting among the 47 people that fit in the orphanage’s chapel at the time of the religious ceremony he presents on Sundays at 10 in the morning.

Nicholas talks to himself all the time. He talks about a whole bunch of different things to stay busy and distant from the loneliness that his profession entails. He also writes, on a small black notebook that shamelessly reads Holy Bible on its cover, which he keeps in the inside pocket of his suit all day. It is possible to find random thoughts scrambled between its pages, occasional unfinished sketches of the kids who visit him frequently, prayers and attempts at poetry that, despite the ease he possesses to release a speech towards an audience made up of people full of faith in the word he preaches every weekend, the simple idea that one day you might inadvertently read what lies on those yellowish paper sheets terrifies him to the point where he can feel each and every one of his nerve endings on the surface of his skin, pulsing with the same intensity as the wings of a flying hummingbird.

He writes for you, more specifically. Even though in life, there are weaknesses that sometimes, do not allow the deepest feelings of the heart to flourish freely.

"I am just an object waiting to be ashes, and it is precisely for that reason that I would like my body to burn until it is consumed as one with yours. So at the end, dust will be the only thing that remains of our spirits, mixed together, to be later carried away by the wind of this unforgiving desert we call home."

“I have reached such a degree of insanity that, not even with the help of a thousand divine healing rites, my composure will return. I have even considered exchanging the blood of as many sinners as necessary to the Devil in order to melt into the blazing but purifying fire that surely arises with the single touch of your lips, and if you allow me, to endulge in the perfect contradiction that lies between your legs. A place both sacred and infernal, a place where good and evil converge and is powerful enough to drive even the most righteous and ruthless of religionists to an infinite madness. A place that I can only imagine feels like heaven and hell at the same time, capable to burn but also soothe the wounds in the soul of a disgraceful believer, one such as myself, your humble servant.”

“And I am not ashamed to affirm in front of the cross in which the son of God was punished because of filth like me, that, your mere presence encourages me to violate every order imposed by the invisible power of my belief, all that for what he, the same guy I mentioned earlier, sacrificed himself for in the first place. He sacrificed himself for you and especially for me, and above all, for the atrocities that come with the human race to disappear from the world. Such as the kind of things that flood my mind when my gaze manages to distinguish a little glimpse of your underwear when you put on that pretty dress of yours and you take a seat in the front row. A dress I like to imagine you only use for me.”

When Sunday comes, the ceremony starts and it's your turn at the moment of communion. It all happens in a matter of minutes every single time, a fleeting contact that is difficult to remove from his system. The host is delicately held by Wolfwood's hands as he stares at you, the abyss of his obsidian orbs capturing your attention to ask for your permission. You nod and look back at him too, subtly batting your eyelashes and slowly sticking out your tongue in an inviting way, that more than innocent, seemed diabolical, as if you knew which cards to move to obtain an absolute victory. And he feels it, he feels something struck his chest. Like a pair of magnets who can't fight the silent attraction that tries to unite them. You glance at the thick fingers infront of you for an instant, and then once again, you lift your stare towards him to take the host. His breathing stopped the moment he felt the back of his fingers get in contact with the wetness of your tongue while accommodating the wafer on it, and he almost, just almost, stutters in his words, but he doesn't, it takes all of his will not to. He blinks and his hand moves away from your lips to continue with the the other presents. You turn around and go back to your place without looking back. Luckily for him, the robe that covers his body does not allow to reveal any trace of what could give away his growing hunger for you.

Reminiscing something that he himself already wrote once in his notebook.

“It’s a disgusting sight, truly. How you take the sacramental bread from the hands of a sinful bastard, how you try to be purified by the same hands that are permanently stained with the obscene thought of consuming your body, your entire being. But you don’t have an idea of how much I love it, how much I want you to be mine.”

The lecture finished at 10:57 a.m. Nicholas remembers glancing at the watch on his wrist to regain the track of time he lost when you got close to his body. Seeing that people were starting to get up, he decided to clean his instruments to leave everything in order, and at the same time, bring some peace to his mind. He didn't have long arranging his space when Wolfwood felt a sudden and intense urge to look back, and when he did, you were the first thing that he focused on, stumbling upon the surprise of your eyes already searching for his while walking to the exit, wearing the most precious smile he’s ever seen on your face. A smile just for him.

By 11:23 a.m. the chapel was completely empty and Wolfwood walked with an unbearable weight on his feet towards the confined space of the confessional, along with a box of matches in hand that he took from an old cabinet. He closed the door, took a seat and leaned his head against the wall, which protested with a slight screech, as if it knew what was going through the troubled man's mind. Of course you appeared immediately, the images of every time you two have exchanged greetings in the streets, in the market, or even at the events to raise funds for the orphanage.

First came the color of your eyes, which seemed to dominate and illuminate the darkness of the small space he was in, then your eyebrows and the expressions that characterize your words while speaking. Thirdly, your mouth, the Eden he dreams of so much, reflected in the shine that your lips acquire when you bite and wet them with saliva. Imagining how they move to the compass of your voice, if they are rounded, if you smile or if you stay quiet. Nicholas raised his right hand and gently touched his own mouth to try to calm the urgency of joining it with yours. He closed his eyes and remembered the slight meeting he had with it an hour ago. The warmth of your breath on his knuckles and the softness he touched with the pads of his mistreated fingers. How easy would it be to draw a whimper out of you, the sweetest sound he can think of. His pants began to feel more and more uncomfortable with every passing minute, the pressure exerted by the growing erection in his groin started to become unbearable. Will he be able to obtain salvation if he confesses everything, here and now?

"God...please" And just as he often does, he began to talk. "I want her more than...a-anything in this world...can't I have her either?" The hand that previously touched your lips, traveled up to his crotch and gave a first cautious squeeze, allowing himself to be carried away by the venom of the serpent that condemned us all as sinners centuries ago, which little by little contaminated his veins and blinded his sight. Now not only did he imagine the Eden in your beauty, he was about to enter that precious place, only to break the rules. "I haven't been...a g-good man, but..." His breathing began to falter, with great gulps of air, his chest rose and fell, trying to oxygenate his racing heart. "I swear I...I can treat her right." The restraint of the stiff bottoms was starting to be painful for Nicholas, so he reached for the button, hastily undoing it to reach into his underwear. The burning heat of desire greeting him. And as he could, he pulled out his member from the base without removing his pants. The cold edge of the zipper brushed against the prominent veins of his rigid sex while his hand tried to conciliate the relief he so desperately needed. He kept traveling with his mind through your neck, your chest, your waist and your navel, the unknown nudity that he longes for unfolding before him in an imaginary scenario within the four small walls of the confessional. His breathing became more and more disturbed and growls began to sprout from the depths of his being.

"I'm sorry, God...I'm so s-sorry" He started to apologize because he knows exactly what is next. He enjoys being rough with his wicked self, he is violent. Pulling his own hair with one hand while the other strokes himself harshly. He spits on the tip, and watches how saliva slowly rolls to the base. He grunts, an animalistic type of sound that reveals the wildest part of his existence, his human predatory instinct, the part that he tries to repress with calling himself a preacher of the Lord’s word. He likes to tighten the grip in his member to the point where the veins on his forehead begin to become visible and the color of his shaft changes entirely with the accelerated flow of blood. Suffocating in his own body, a prisoner of his dark desires.

"Our Father, who...a-art in heaven, hallowed be Thy name. Thy kingdom come. Thy will be done, on earth as it is...i-in heaven." It was in that moment when he began to pray. And the drops of fluid that came out of his slit with anticipation gave his hand more access to stroke with a quicker pace. From outside the confessional, it was possible to hear the faint slippery sound of friction from skin to skin and the murmured pleas of a man sunk in perdition.

"Give us this day our daily bread, a-and forgive us our trespasses...as we forgive those who trespass against us, and lead us not into temp-temptation...but deliver us from...evil."

Would God be able to truly forgive such an act?

"A-Amen."

And it's just when he finishes his pleas that he finds himself betrayed by his own mind, letting your name slip from his lips, over and over again, like a renovated prayer, but profane and corrupted. The peculiar burning sensation in the lower part of his abdomen starts to approach. He bites the collar of his white camisole and drool escapes from the sides of his mouth in the delirium of a near orgasm. Squeezing his eyes shut he imagined your breasts swaying in front of his face as you grind on top, your angelic face contorted with the ecstasy of a fictional encounter, and your core eagerly receiving each of his thrust. The sweet aroma that your sweat must have and all the possible ways you could moan his name.

"Ni..cholas, ah...Nicholas...Nic..."

The entirety of his skin crawls to the thought. And his hips begin to move with an unbridled, involuntary frenzy, consequence of the carnal instinct that species keep hidden in their bodies.

"Oh...God..please, please...ple-please." He calls uselessly for the only one who could redeem him, the only one who could accept a sin like this. Finally, he rapidly drags his hand a couple of last times and the orgasm begins to hit his senses. A last growl comes out of his chest before his teeth unconsciously loosen the fabric of the shirt to let out a deafened cry. With some last thrusts, his hips rise in a lost rhythm from the bench on which he is sitting as his seed spills violently into his right hand, staining some of the fabric of his black pants along the way.

The warm sensation of contact with his own release brings him back to himself, and he can only at this point, contemplate more clearly the mistake he has made.

“Divine forgiveness, what a bunch of shit.”

He drops the other hand that was tugging at his brunette locks in the heat of the momentum inside his pocket, pulls out a cigarette, places it in his mouth and proceeds to wipe the remains of cum on his right palm with a handkerchief, so he can pick up the matches he had brought with him, light the stick, and take a hit, trying to quell with smoke the latent nectar of lonely intimacy impregnated in the air. He takes a few moments to let the haze of the moment pass completely as he watches the mess in his lap and his now softened member.

The cigarette is half finished, he is a fast smoker.

He inhales and exhales once more, and then, there’s a subtle, almost silent, knock on the door, followed by what he recognizes is your voice coming from the rusty confession room's grate.

“F-Father Nicholas...?”

[h4venpha]

⸺ caught together

✦ vash the stampede x nicholas d. wolfwood ✦ contents: band!au (non-polycule/separate timeline) ✦ WC: 392 ✦ notes: imagine this is from a slowburn band au vw fic and they have hella tension and they cant keep away from each other (i can't write long ass slowburn fics for the life of me ok jus imagine it...)

“you know what they’re sayin’ about us in the press?” wolfwood grumbles, leaning his shoulder against the door frame of vash’s room with a wadded up morning news paper in his hand and milly’s cute, floral mug in his other, filled with his steamy black coffee. it’s only 8am, don't expect him to grab the right mug five minutes after waking up. he takes a noisy sip as his dark eyes trace over vash’s lanky figure stirring under rumpled sheets. wolfwood sighs before flipping them open again.

“‘gunsmoke’s drummer and lead guitarist seen together—‘“wolfwood drones, reading off the flimsy newspaper filled with dramatized comments and theories from journalists who have nothing better to do than invade into people’s lives for the sake of ‘entertainment’.

“—followed by a picture of us after that concert we had last week.” scratching his head, he looks up from the newspaper and meets vash’s sleepy eyes. even through his grogginess, he can see the cogs creaking in his head.

“…aren’t we always together? because we’re in the same band?” vash mumbles as he rubs his hands over his face, piercings clinking like tiny bells. wolfwood gives him a moment to wipe the sleepiness from his eyes before he rolls the newspaper back up and tosses it over onto his bed. 

he blindly reaches for it, holds it above his face, blinks twice. 

“oh,” vash tuts quietly, eyebrows furrowing as he sees the poorly printed image and recalls the night of that concert. slight annoyance flashes over his face as he remembers that paparazzi will do anything to get a trending picture, even if it means sneaking around back and snapping flicks. it doesn’t help that the picture was taken purposely to make it look like they were about to kiss behind the building, a sly smile on his face as he leaned in close toward wolfwood smoking with his back to the wall. sure maybe they were going to do a little making out— but it doesn’t mean the paparazzi have to be so nosy.

“could’ve all been avoided if you’d just left me alone to smoke.” wolfwood puts one hands up in surrender, shrugging playfully.

“you turned around at least eight times to look at me during the set— you were tempting me!” vash complains noisily, but wolfwood can see the pink flush in his face.

[missyourflight]

some stuff i read and watched january - may

i had to stop doing f1 stuff (because it was making me miserable lol), redirected most of that energy into reading romance novels (occasionally other things but mostly romance novels lbr) and watching films. anyway now interview with the vampire's back and i'm fully deranged about that etc. highlights below!

black sails (s1 & 2 rewatch): i do enjoy s1 for my sins (marcus aurelius foreshadowing!) but it's Wild how much s2 kicks up a gear the instant they start properly pairing off flint and silver. coming back for the rest of the rewatch once i've calmed down about the vampires so the true devastation lies ahead etc. also i rewatched twelfth night for toby stephens reasons, his orsino remains a formative piece of nonsense

mary & george: i'm not going to get into the whole nicholas galitzine filmography deepdive i was compelled to do for reasons not even known to myself but i raced through this. very sexy obviously but often in a way transactional or empowering or tender without necessarily being romantic. like it's not reinventing the wheel but it felt like a more expansive presentation of intimacy than you usually see in a costume drama. tony curran great in this!

shōgun: god what a show!! epic and tragic and funny and specific and just like an unbelievable showcase for craft and talent. fuji forever

a moment of romance: andy lau so gorgeous i could die, neon bloody hong kong action with a love story that's almost chaste until they finally kiss and it's fire actually. the rain! sparklers! explosions! a motorcycle helmet that says "safety!" on it!

tampopo: spent way too much money on a bunch of criterion collection blu-rays and i Loved this one, even the freaky egg stuff. an all-time food film and also baby ken watanabe is there with a little bandana!

all that heaven allows: i always feel like i came to sirk backwards because i saw far from heaven first; did magnificent obsession and written on the wind as well and the colours are always gorgeous but this was far and away my favourite. at one point a teapot gets smashed and i gasped like my heart was breaking

thief: god this absolutely rips! unfortunately your girl Is a michael mann bro (austin butler heat 2 let's gooo) and incredibly into things like blowtorches and shots of windows exploding outwards like a shower of diamonds

challengers: feral about it obviously, itemised list of derangements here

la chimera: it's josh o'connor season and i loved this even more than challengers, there are moments in this that felt like miracles

emma. (2020): rewatched this with the blu-ray commentary which only made me love it more, also i've warmed on callum turner since i saw his trip to the criterion closet, what a babe

queen of the damned: watched this in a vampire fever and in the spirit of "how bad can it be?" and the answer was: worse even than that

furiosa: a mad max saga: i really felt the saga of it all, like the almost mythic telling of it, and hemsworth's great and the action's great, but most importantly OH GOD TOM BURKE IS SO HOT AS PRAETORIAN JACK. OH GOD HE'S SO HOT AND STOIC AND SOLID and i was not prepared for it to be a Romance like that oh god

land of milk and honey by c pam zhang: near-future dystopian unbelievably sexy food book, i still think about some of those images. a duck breast split open like a geode!! fuck!!

the spymasters series by joanna bourne: i haven't loved a romance series like this in a While, it's napoleonic era spies! everyone's in love and constantly betraying and shooting each other! it's Not lymond but it was twisty and detailed enough to scratch the lymond itch for me. you can basically read them in any order because they weren't written chronologically, but take my advice and start with the black hawk, because then you can play "what's hawker up to?" in all the other books and hurt your feelings, then go back to the spymaster's lady and do the rest in publication order. i love my terrible spy family!!

practice by rosalind brown: i'm so obsessed with this, it's about a student trying to write an essay but really it's about shakespeare and yoga and the elaborate gay fictions she's constantly making up in her head

henry henry by allen bratton: henry iv by way of brideshead and patrick melrose, i deeply loved this and i deeply loved this hal. one for the hal/hotspur yuletide enjoyers etc

you should be so lucky by cat sebastian: i also read and loved her cabot series but this one really got to me. as a brit i can never truly be a baseball understander but this crossed the bull durham/everybody wants some!! line of making me yearn about it a bit

kaliane bradley, the ministry of time: loved this so wildly that i committed multiple counts of reverse wage theft to dazedly copy the best parts into my notes app and yowl about it with my friends who'd had arcs. sexy time travel roommate situation, my beloved

add me on goodreads or letterboxd if you're into that sort of thing etc

[agatharkn3ss]

Thoughts on Teen's story (spoilers)

This is not a formed theory of any kind, I am still trying to make sense about Teen, so this is just a brain-dump of things I've noted so far.

I still think he's some form of Billy/Wiccan and that his parents died in that car crash mentioned in ep.1. Maybe even the body that is being investigated was Billy's mom and not Wanda, as we were made to believe. But what happened next? Why only release Agatha from her spell in 2026 if the crash was in 2023? How is he connected to Rio because I think they are working together? What triggered Nosey-Agnes to become Detective-Agnes?

The detail that has caught my eye is Agatha's house when she finally wakes up from the curse. Agatha still lives in the house she "borrowed" from Ralph Bohner (fake Pietro) in Wandavision. Surely, the house content and decor would largely stay the same as what she made it when she still had her purple powers? Wanda wouldn't change the house itself - even her own house plot didn't physically change.

But in the opening of ep.2 Agatha seems confused by things - e.g. she dislikes the coffee, then exclaims "whose shoes are these?!". But I brushed it off thinking maybe she's just finding items from her "Agnes" persona and still recovering from the spell. Or her neighbours got her wrong items (and someone must have built her that "car"!). But what if they really do belong to someone else?

We are made to believe that maybe Agatha kidnapped Teen, but what if he lived with her since the crash (or at least for a while)? And that's how he's learnt about Agatha and magic? Only she doesn't remember because she was in her Agnes-the-nosey-neighbour persona? Or because of the sigil?

The house is absolutely littered with books (and rabbit images - which is interesting, since in her detective reality rabbit was somehow linked to Nicholas Scratch items) and there are symbols and sketches everywhere - someone has been very busy looking for magic for sure. It couldn't be Agatha if she's trapped as Agnes? I imagine this is how Teen managed to create his spell book and fill with lots of info he found.

There are also lots of police files boxes and random photos are stuck to doors and walls etc. This could be because Agatha was in her "Agnes O'Connor" role and was hanging up what she thought was evidence. And I do think that to certain extent that might be the case - we see the same flower photos that Agatha originally thought were photos of the victim's body. But where would the boxes come from? There are so many of them and they look like the real deal and not made up. So was someone really investigating something?

And finally, there is this little detail... A kid's drawing?! Or maybe someone was trying to badly draw a vision of what they saw? Looks like a woman with rays coming out of her head?

This is not making any sense, somehow I can't see Nosey-Agnes and Teen playing happy family... But then again, it would explain the connection they have. When Teen wakes up from being injured on the Road, the very first thing he says is he asks Agatha if she was the one who put the sigil on him. I wonder if this is Teen testing Agatha how much she remembers from before. It feels like he wants to have a heart-to-heart with her, but doesn't know how much he can say yet.

Then there is the link to Rio. And the mystery of the locket. Rio was clearly very interested in it - she questioned "Agnes" about it - "Are you hiding evidence?". This was briefly followed by Teen breaking into the house and stealing the locket. I don't think that's a coincidence and Rio was probably trying to create distraction for Teen. There are soooo many possibilities, but I wonder if the locket was the one item that Teen needed to break Agatha from the spell - something that was her one connection to reality (as it remains so during the trials too) and close to her heart, because it contained her son's hair, and only Rio would know that. How did the locket get to the puddle in the "crime scene" in the first place though? Did Agatha have something to do with the crash?

As for the sigil, I wonder if it was Rio who placed it on Teen, knowing Agatha can't know too much about him because she wouldn't help Wanda's kid. Or she simply knew that keeping the mystery will intrigue Agatha enough to keep Teen close to her. The question is, why?

Oh, and another side-note - no matter who cast the sigil, it would hide Teen's identity from all witch-folk, including the witch who cast it. So when Rio says "That boy is not yours", it raises even more questions. Is Rio not a witchy person (because she's Death) so she's not affected by the sigil? I think unlikely, since she had to obey magic to join the coven after Sharon died. Or, she is affected by the sigil but she knows Agatha's son is dead (or somewhere else) so it can't be Teen? Or, she's lying. Either way - why?

Anyway... just a collection of random thoughts, because I am getting stir crazy waiting for the next episode! I hope they will answer at least some of these questions soon! (probably not until ep.6 though...)