#for the masterlist
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The Experiments
Chapter list:
Prologue
One
Two
Three
Four
Five (wip)
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Sickeningly Sweet
The culmination of mine and @sculptorofcrimson's mega post about Valdor... you should probably read that to get an understanding of what is going on.
@bispecsual @egrets-not-regrets @moodymisty @bleedingichorhearts @liar-anubiass-blog
@thevoidscreams @barn-anon
As always thank you @squishyowl for the divder
tw: smut. yandere valdor. mindbreak or at least mind broken
This was written in like an hour
She hardly recognized herself in the mirror anymore... the slightly golden tinge to her eyes stared back at her with such sadness that was uncommon for her given her background... she made the most of everything... she really tried with this... as she could feel the way the comb just glided through her long brown hair... something happened when she got scared.
He had stumbled back when she let out that final desperate scream before she devolved into sobs... her eyes and her hair changed not long after that... but now no one came to visit... no one came to check up on her... she felt so sad and empty for the first time in her life... she covered her face and let her tears fall for herself for a moment before she knew he was there licking them away like a dog. And she once more felt the weight of the laurel upon her head.
The days felt so numb... and at times she felt like a doll being preened over and kept clean and loved... but she felt so achingly lonely. Ever since Valdor had come into her life... everything went insane... suddenly the Inquisition was doing its best to interrogate politely ask her what was going on. Suddenly there were machinations that she wanted to be ignorant about thrust into her face... then the Enemy was moving around, as Valdor had told her about some of the things that attacked the ship. They knew he was guarding something... he swore he wouldn't let them get her Him.
Her last attempt to pull away to get away from the golden nightmare ended in so much death and it was all her fault. She wept again... and once again his tongue lapped up the tears. Time was a blur for her as she tried to stop eating but while it kept him at bay for some time... she should have remembered he wasn't fully against hurting her and the subtle threats he wove got her to eat once again....
She hardly noticed the change in room as Valdor shuffled her around again... but all she could do was look up at him pleadingly to not kill them... silently praying to the Throne that she wouldn't have to watch him butcher people who were simply trying to treat her as human because that is what she was! But time still blurred for her and she couldn't take it any more... the crushing silence he held only to hold her so devotingly and whisper such praises... perhaps that is why she turned so inwardly with her own fingers as company. And still he watches even as she finishes even as she licks her own fingers clean... she can't even feel something alone.
How long has it been? She wonders as she hardly leaves her room anymore and feels herself wilting as the thought of that... "Valdor." Her voice cracks from disuse and there he is.
"Yes my Emperor?" He says with that calm voice.
"I feel lonely." She admits letting the tears flow. When he kneels and leans in to lick up her tears once more she presses her mouth to his and pushes her tongue against his. "Please... Valdor... Please... I need." She begs as she wraps her arms around his neck not knowing exactly what she was begging for. Perhaps for something carnal... as she remembers when he first appeared she felt that lust as who wouldn't?
"What do you need of me my liege." She feels his breath against her cheek and ear as her mouth moves desperately against his chin and throat... eyes closed tight to not break the illusion of her not thrusting desire onto him.
"Please touch me." She mewls at him and once more feels his mouth against her own as she moans eagerly into his mouth. The tunic she had been given now coming into play as his warm finger just brushes against her sex. She jolts at the contact moaning as she feels the digit sinking into her.
Pulling open her top she plays with her own breasts just to feel something just to feel the high in this as she keeps her eyes closed or stealing timid glances... but his gaze at her is terrifying in a way... so overwhelming.
However the slow pumping of his digit wasn't doing enough for her right now. "Valdor please I need you." She whimpers rubbing a foot against his inner thigh trying to encourage a reaction from him as she looks up at him with those eyes.
The ghost of a smile on his lips as his eyes hold some predatory look in them... as if she was a rabbit caught in a trap, "My liege is in need and removing my armor will take time... let me please you now." He pulled his finger out and tasted it... she watched him close his eyes for a moment savoring it before leaning in and licking the lips...
His name was a ghost on her lips before she suddenly screamed it out as he dove in with a hunger that sent a jolt of life into her. Her thighs squeezing his head and her fingers gripping the dark hair of his mohawk. She didn't see or chose to ignore the way he watched her writhe against his mouth... the way his eyes focused on her own as they flashed a bright gold... each lick pouring life back into this shard of the Emperor that was becoming like tarnished gold... dull and lifeless.
His tongue cupped and pressed against her bud as he wrapped his dearest liege shard in the finest golden chains of his devotion... she craved such companionship... it was something he had to discourage at first as who else but a loyal servant could bring their liege such pleasure. His tongue moves deeper and she screams with such desperate pleasure, "Valdor! Valdor please! I'm so close!" She sobbed as her faithful servant held her thighs gently just watching her come undone with a final shriek.
He made sure not a drop of her was wasted... she flushed as she could hear the wetness of his licks and laps as he cleaned her with such devotion. He knew her routine having seen her with a paramour before he knew for certain she was his Beloved... it was all a bonding ritual that would bring him into their good graces again. The concern that entered her gold eyes... "Do you need to be taken care of?"
"Do not worry about me." He said watching her nod as she got as comfortable as she could to snuggle in the afterglow of that sensation. And as Valdor played his role in her post coitus bonding ritual he knew... he knew his Beloved shard would be less... and less... and less... and oh so very less likely to pull away from him again like they tried to.
#warhammer 40k#yandere custodes#yandere constantin valdor#constantin valdor#adeptus custodes#tw: smut#tw: yandere#why did I write this#oh yeah to get sculptor to let me finish my god damn Dark Angel#for the masterlist#doesn't feel like my best but then again Valdor was kinda just SPRUNG on me
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Zhentarim Emojis
#zhentarim emojis#for the masterlist#gathered enough new ones for a re-post#art#fan art#bg3#baldur's gate 3#rugan#bg3 rugan#rugan fuckers unite#gif#baldurs gate 3 rugan#rugan bg3#zhentarim#zhent#olly#bg3 olly#olly bg3#zarys#zarys bg3#bg3 zarys#bellar#bg3 bellar#bellar bg3
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SW Request Guidelines
This list is not cemented or exhaustive in any capacity, and will be occasionally updated, so please be sure to keep an eye on this post in my #frostfics masterlist and/or check before you make a request if you'd like some inspiration.
**Remember above all else, friends: 'this is War of Stars and Shit's Whack Anyways'. I more believe in having *fun* with the source material above strict adherence to it. If someone requested something that did not strictly adhere to whatever the current canon is, that's their choice. We all have our favorite aspects of Star Wars and they will not always align with another person's.**
UPDATED: 2/9/24
What I WILL Do
Headcanon requests
Drabbles
One shots
Short series IF I am inspired by the request
When it comes to x readers: I can comfortably write in 1st, 2nd, or 3rd Person POVs. My default is 3rd and 2nd person, for the most part!
Want to request a non-x reader? I can do that too, don't be shy! I'll send the semi-feral boys of the 501st (affectionate; always affectionate) on a zoo trip and there'll be plenty of chaos for Rex, Dogma chilling out in the fish exhibit the entire time and Fives being a caring big brother to some Shinnies if that's more your wheelhouse.
Tropes such as: Fluff, Angst, Hurt/Comfort, Whump (willing to get heavy depending on type), Enemies-to-Lovers/Idiots-to-Lovers, One Bed/Escape Pod, Fix-its, Soulmate, Actions/Consequences, Domestic; popular occupations like Medic/Mechanic/Bounty Hunter/Jedi etc.
As much or as little Clones-using-Mando'a as you'd like. Familial terms only? Sure! You wanna go for Oops! All Pet Names? You got it! You're allergic to Clones using Mando'a? Cool beans, buddy, I can do that and correct any slip-ups! I know not everyone subscribed to that fanon trope like I did and/or for the same reasons I did.
Platonic or romantic relationships
Implied/Light smut/Mature on occasion! [Will range from 13+ to 18+ age rating depending on my comfort and familiarity with the requested character.]
I have more comfort and familiarity in writing AFAB/female x Readers, so that's what I default to; I can also write gender-neutral x Readers when specified in the request. I've grown out of the writing format of using "Y/N" or "[Name]" for the most part, and I write the general, physical description of Reader in a very vague, more "poetic" manner. [Should be noted I am very unfamiliar with AMAB/male x Readers so I'm afraid I'm likely not the one who will be best to ask.]
We're LGBT+ friendly; I'm a bi woman in my twenties for goodness sake. 🩷💜💙
Most SW characters, really. If you have a particular character in mind that isn't in my main niches of interest, I can probably swing it. There'll be better luck if you request something from one of my main niches of interest. (The Clone Wars, The Bad Batch, The Mandalorian) Please keep in mind that the less I know of a character, the longer it'll take me to complete.
Like a particular fanon trope [like Gray Jedi] or characterization [Captain Rex: exhausted single father over the semi-feral boys of the 501st (affectionate)] and want to see my take on it? Sweet, glad you trust me! I'll certainly do my best depending on what's requested.
I can do things where the type of reader has been specified like "Jedi!Reader" or the popular "Clone Medic!Reader".
We're AU and canon-divergent friendly here! You ordered the "No Order 66 AU with Domestic!Clone Boyfriend" with an order of "____ Lives (Somehow)" on the side? Coming right up!
Is it well past time for everything to Just Stop™ for your fav? We can magically give them a little break.
Delete or completely rework a request if you're impatient with me. I'm doing this for FREE. For FUN. On my own time - I have ADHD tendencies (and hopefully a job, soon) and sometimes the inspiration is just not there. Do not be an entitled little snot or you'll get put in timeout.
What I will NOT Do
Art requests: Love, I can't even draw my own 18+ Clone OCs for kark's sake, and most of the fan art I'm posting in the #frostsfanart tag is done on whim, vibes and impulse; and it's a miracle some of those have gotten popular.
Sidenote: There is a *chance* you'll get an art response to an ask if I feel I can pull it off, or, if you give me an idea. [Example: "Have you done a helmet doodle for _____ before?"]
Your OC x Canon. Don't want to butcher your brain-child by mischaracterizing them by accident. Not running that risk; doubt this would be a thing that would be requested but I'm just covering my bases.
White-wash the Clones. We believe in evidence of Temuera Morrison's physical characteristics in our Clone husbands/boyfriends here.
Explicit smut as of now. Nothing against it but had a more conservative upbringing; so I'm very unfamiliar with all that and I struggle with writing it without unnecessary guilt! :')
I am not personally comfortable with Clonecest or Clone-shipping; but I am not going to qualify this as DNI criteria.
Will absolutely NEVER do requests involving incest, explicit non-con/rape, any flavor of explicit homophobia/racism/bigotry, etc, on a similar note. Ask will be set on fire and you will be fed to the Rishi Moon eels instead of Cutup. I'll free Echo and put you in his place on Skako Minor before anyone notices I'm there. Get lost, please.
NOT comfortable with the Rexsoka business or Master x Padawan romance. Platonic takes on Master x Padawan!Reader dynamic is acceptable. Characters need to be of-age for romances. Ahsoka was only 17 at the end of Clone Wars, for stars' sake.
Please Please PLEASE Let Me
Talk about my Clone OCs!! You noticed a "throwaway" Clone name that's not found in any Star Wars series in a fic of mine? Chances are that's one of my many Clone OCs. Some are more fleshed out than others with proper #frostfics canon (that I'll also gladly break for a "____ Lives!" AU or a cameo in some of my longer series like [REDACTED] or a larger part in [REDACTED] because I can.) while others have no "canon" yet at all.
Talk about my own non-request fics from time to time because I reread my own work often enough. You loved That One XYZ Scene in chapter whatever of Sorry, Wrong Comms! and wanna gush about it on or off anon in my askbox? Please by all means so I can gush about it with you! Have a question about why I wrote the scene like that? Wanna pick my brain a little about the headcanons I've worked into the fabric of the story? I'll gladly elaborate!
#for the masterlist#fanfic request guidelines#frostfics#star wars#star wars fanfiction#star wars fan fiction
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29 degrees
Planets
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Requests!
Just a lil space to update what requests are in progress, awaiting upload and whether my requests are open or not!💛 Also just to help me keep track of what needs doing -
My requests are currently: OPEN!
Requests in progress:
Whumper hates whumpee because they hurt them in the past but they've changed and feel guilty now Whumper has shown how much they hurt them. (Whumpee turned whumper, whumper turned whumpee? 👀)
Caretaker betrays Whumper
Whumpee turned Whumper
Whumpee acting like a broken soldier/minion for Whumper but planning to kill them when they have chance/become stronger/earn their trust.
Whumpee doesn't think they've been rescued, thinks Caretaker is going to hurt them and keeps trying to escape so Caretaker has to drug Whumpee for their own safety.
Villain whumpee part 3
Caretaker hurting for what happened to Whumpee, almost as much as Whumpee is hurt - they don't know how to help/get over it
Villain Whumpee/ affectionate hero whumper
Immortal creature whump
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world building
- the origin of demons
- Sirens mood board
- Vampire mood board
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XF Rewatch
Season 11
S11 Episode Posts & Artwork
S11 Episode Guide
S11 Favorite Moments
S11 MSR
S11 Dialog
S11 Investigation
S11 Misc Observations
S11 Fashion
S11 Travel
S11 Bechdel Test
S11 Alternative Episode Titles
S11 MSR Artwork: Ghouli
Revival Fic Recs
Link to Rewatch Masterlist
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I can not control how people look at others through their lens of the world nor is it my problem. Nor is it any of our problem. It sounds rather selfish to let others bask in their distorted reality of life/sexuality/gender/love until you realize these same people have no problem imposing these steel chains on themselves and you too if you let em. So don't let. ^Read that again, it sounds like an attack on both sides doesn't it? Yet I take no sides on who of them who calls themselves straight or gay because the truth is, we are just living, we had to figure this shit out over again because history was wiped and no one is right or wrong for many different reasons. The jist. Be and become the most weirdest wildish shit ever, if you look around and see no one there that just means that space was meant for you, you just gave it away to best selling and your sense of identity went with it. You just let people abuse your respect for everyone's think peace. Everyone in the internet has one and yet we soak that shit in like the end all be all turn around and take a stance on it for life. Tragic. the only respectable and responsible opinion are those who are lucrative. Meaning they understand life itself as having no definite answer. And to be ok with being undefined, nothing but self, and the very life force that causes for you to wake up in the morning is freeing yourself from all the bullshit. We get up here and have a new label every 3years,5 decades, until it becomes a blur and have to start all over again from Adam and mf eve. Until it becomes trigonometry to figure out what your gender and 'sexuality' is and we go back to the animal instinct of reproduction, then they tell us we weren't being smart by defining ourselves as lifeforms but dumbing it down past free will. only to forget we never had to fight to love who we wanted but became too emotionally illiterate too . When did we stop becoming the purest form of ourselves. Meaning who we have sex is important in the sense that it pertains to the adults involved . How we dress has nothing to do with the one not wearing it (this was known hince why men had the emotional literacy to wear whatever tf they wanted but don't think this doesn't involve women, see we've defeated what a "women is supposed to look like" before only when we put ourselves in a society that is hypocritical do we trip over our feet) declaring oneself free from this culturalized society is the only way out and only are we to use society as self expressio...not chains. But we once forgot that too and ended up segregated with cave/hive mind. And yet we still don't believe history has repeated itself on multiple occasions. Or has it become so detached from who we actually are? We are forgetting there is another side to this whole life thing that is non physical. Forbid we keep ourselves in just one, the one that has us having an identity crisis about a fucking color,skirts,dress, fixed personality, fashion, love, stance, clothes, hair, nails, feminine/masc (since when were we as humanbeings everrr defined by just two ways of being before documentation existed) that's where so much confusion comes from. So in conclusion... aesthetics. Free yourself, these may be very real in the reality you currently reside in but for fucks sakes you could be looking at a friend from your long lost past and yet you worry...if he indeed...is gay,likes you back, has a girlfriend. In the way we have spit on the essences of just simply existing in exchange for these roles we were forced to play. Break out of it for fucks sakes, we are finally free.
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soften me now character list (as of chapter 14)
spoilers ahead
Billie Dean Howard
Catherine (Kate) - Y/N's late wife
Margot - Y/N's sister in law
Danny - Margot's fiance
Norah - Y/N's closest friend
Jenny/Jen - employee at Corner Store
Joan/Jo - employee at Corner Store
Riley (they/them) - Billie's assistant
Lauren - Billie's makeup artist
Mark - Billie's hair stylist
Elijah Fields - author of Signs Unseen: Spirits in a Modern World
Lisa Cole - staff writer at People magazine, coined the term "Medium to the Stars"
Ted Harrington - head of talent acquisitions at Lifetime
Vivian - cashier at Insomnia Cafe
Saanvi - Y/N's first date after Kate's death
Lauren - Billie's hookup at a party, a fact she deliberately leaks to the press later
Andy - the second person Y/N dates after Kate's death
Matthew - one of Billie's oldest friends in California
Holly - one of Billie's oldest friends in California
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When I tell you I was pissing my pants laughing at this.
“This wallpaper is so cute, we could live here” ME IN A NUTSHELL I have ADHD (I’m medicated for it) but when I’m off it this is me 😭
#call of duty#cod imagines#cod masterlist#ghost call of duty#cod modern warfare#captain john price#captain price#soap call of duty#call of duty smut#cod imagine#cod mw3#cod keegan#john price#cod mwf2#soap cod#cod mwii#ghost simon riley
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Can you write a college roommate head cannon for miguel O’Hara ( 18+ f!reader)
ik you asked for HCs but I have no self control... my bad, anon!
College Roommate!Miguel O'Hara Headcanons
(AO3 Mirror), Main Masterlist
pairing: College Roommate!Miguel O'Hara x f!reader
summary: Miguel is your roommate. And he’s hot. That’s it, that’s the tweet.
warnings: 18+ as fuuuck. F-receiving oral, using toys, masturbation, voyeurism (-ish), grinding, praise, service dom (idk?) Miguel, recreational drug use (reader and Miggy smoke a blunt). Minors DNI
a/n: I am a firm believer that modern day Miguel listens to 90s rnb, back when men were men: unabashedly, unashamedly down so fucking bad for their partners. he just gives me those vibes!!
edit: I'm writing a full fic for this! Rigor Mortis, college au fic, read here.
wc: 6k
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
I'm thinking you become roommates but he's your last choice.
Very last minute: you have a big falling out with your now ex-boyfriend, and the plans for flatsharing next semester goes right out the window.
So all the good places are taken, and you're going apartment-hunting, but everywhere's either too expensive, too dirty, or there's a predatory clause hidden in the lease: shitty landlords and blaring red flags in 9pt Times New Roman.
When you stumble upon Miguel O'Hara; a student in private accomodation who, lucky you, is in need of a roommate; it feels like a godsend.
Rent is affordable and he's nice enough; refusing to grunt more than a few words to you, but is clean, organised, and from what you can tell, is barely in the apartment.
You sign onto the lease, desperately, hoping you've just been lucky and trying not to look a gift horse in the mouth.
You give a thousand mile stare at the blank document in front of you. A bullshit paper due in exactly 12 hours. Yes, you left it until the final stretch, and yes, it's 10k words. Very doable. You're not fucked. Nope.
You blame it on the banging from next door. Paper thin walls; obscene noises. Cries of Yes Miguel and Just like that, daddy have been plaguing you for almost an hour. His stamina must be superhuman, the way the woman in his bed has been howling. Howling may seem extreme, but she sounds like a dying cat: cock drunk and babbling over Miguel O'Hara?
Your new roommate had been nice enough. Quiet, unassuming, and seemed more than absorbed in his schoolwork. So you didn't expect him to unashamedly fuck the girl he's been tutoring for the past week. It all clicks. The "perfect roommate" turned out to have one teeny tiny little flaw: loud, obnoxious sex, well into the early hours of the morning.
On autopilot, you're clicking through tabs on your bed. Perhaps you're a prude, but the sex noises are abrasive, excessive, to the point of parody. Persistent, Miguel's low voice reverberates in the walls of your bedroom; making heat pool at the base of your stomach.
"You want it, hermosa? Tell me…. such a pretty girl… like that?" It's muffled, but his voice is unmistakable. Low, greedy, heavy with want. God, the last time someone's spoken to you like that was…
You shake your head free of cobwebs. No. You're not rewarding him. You can't . Your roommate is shameless, and inconsiderate, and really fucking annoying .
The smacking noises increase, coupled with banging on his side of the wall. Resolute, your face hardens. From where you perch on your bed, you slam the wall with the side of your fist.
"O'Hara! Keep it the fuck down!"
~~~
He's a biochem major, up to his ass in assignments and he still has time for societies, internships and tutoring.
The only times he'd be in the apartment really was an impromptu session, and you didn't notice at first, but it became more obvious as the semester went on.
As a so-called tutor, he only seemed to pick the prettiest girls - they would twirl their hair on your kitchen counter and bat their pretty lashes at him when they didn't understand. Favours for a couple of friends, is his only response when you ask.
It felt like you'd open the door to a new girl every week and you are baffled. Donned in makeup and short skirts, they'd waddle in asking for Miggy, or drop off half-finished assignments whilst craning their head through, trying to catch a glimpse of him.
The absurdity would make you laugh if it wasn't affecting your sleep.
Not that he's not absolutely gorgeous, but he's so quiet you would never have thought he had it in him: to have a revolving door of women lining up to lay underneath him.
This time, her name is Sarah: pretty little thing in Miguel's Advanced Math class. She perches on a stool, wearing a tight dress that is wholly not appropriate for a tutoring session. She's one of his regulars, if you can call it that, and has been failing for at least 2 semesters. You flash her a smile as you pad through the kitchen, searching the cupboards for a snack. God, she is gorgeous; dolled up for another long session with Miguel, no doubt.
"Where's he gone?" She asks politely.
You shrug. "I couldn't tell you, sorry."
"It's okay… I'm just a bit stuck." You almost snort and catch yourself. For some reason, you didn't think they actually did any work, merely a pretense for the… cardio later on in the day.
You glance at her sheet of paper, scribbles in purple pen with large swathes crossed out. Leaning over, you scan the page.
"Right here." You point and she follows with a manicured finger. "You fucked up with this integral and I think… yeah, I think that messes with the whole thing."
Her eyes light up as she follows you, explaining with a piece of cookie hanging out of your mouth. She's definitely smart, just a few little mistakes here and there that you're happy to point out. Thanking you fervently, she rushes to correct it.
"Ah, it's no problem. I get mixed up with it too." You smile and notice Miguel by the doorway, watching with a strange look in his face. You roll your eyes as you walk past. What a fucking weirdo.
"Thought I was the tutor?" He croons.
You raise an eyebrow, voice low as Sarah is engrossed in her work. "...I don't want to fuck her, Miggy , if that's what you're worried about."
A little cruelly you push past him, shoulders clashing against one another. Is he smiling ? For now, you blame your perpetual tiredness when you think you catch the hint of a grin tugging at the corners of his mouth.
~~~
You're a light sleeper, and it all makes for a tired, delirious combo. You sleepwalk through the day, scramble to finish assignments and whilst it's not all O'Hara's fault, you can't help but blame him for a lot of it.
After you successfully get through one long week, you decide to celebrate. That means a couple hours of mindless hedonism: your favourite movie, greasy food…. and your trusty dildo. Not at the same time, of course.
Miguel's not home, and he's not tearing down the walls with some other girl, for once, so you decide to treat yourself.
You've been going through a dry patch, and you'd hate to admit it, but he does sound good through the thin drywall.
It was a joke gift; given to you by a friend for your birthday. An obnoxiously purple dildo with a suction cup at its base. Aptly named Hugh, due to its - ahem - large stature. Standing tall at 7 or 8 inches, far bigger or thicker than any partner you've taken in the past. Sitting around a small diner booth with your friends and opening the bag to reveal him, had been quite the experience, for sure.
It wasn't your fault you had gone through a dry spell in the past few months. With work, with school, with relationship issues, you hadn't had the time or energy to sleep around. Not that you were desperate for drunk, lackluster sex, followed by an awkward dance of ubers and shitty coffee in the morning. Like many, you preferred to do it yourself.
Laptop open, you ease yourself onto the toy, already slick with lube. Prepping yourself with your fingers had been quite the task, tabs open to something on a lewd website. It's cheesy, but you didn't really like the bright lights and plastic of usual porn. The moans felt too fake, the sex devoid of any real passion. So you found a couple of independent creators; couples, mostly; carnal fucking with fervour only borne from real love . It's embarrassing to admit it, but your favourite parts are the little kisses and touches in between, or light laughter after a rough session. As if to say: it's okay and I'm still here.
On your screen now is a longtime favourite video, a broad man bullying his fat cock into his partner. You can't help but think he looks like Miguel, not as pretty but tan with strapping shoulders, and large hands that wrap around the neck of the girl in the video.
" F-Fuck," You breathe, sinking down onto your toy. You bet Miguel's palm on your throat would be deliciously rough, and you imagine how he'd fuck the brat out of you like the man on your screen.
What hadn't occurred to you, however, was that the thin walls went both ways. Whilst you were quieter than many of the girls Miguel brought home, you were fairly shameless with the moans and curses that fell from your lips. Headphones on, you were blissfully unaware that Miguel had slipped into the apartment some time ago. The slap of your thighs to the floor, the desperate whine as you roll your hips over the toy - he can hear it all.
Miguel has a conscience, so he does feel some amount of shame when he slips a hand down his trousers and presses an ear to your shared wall. He closes his eyes and bites down lusty groans, fisting his cock to your pretty noises. Noises he's been wanting to hear from you for months, now, imagining it was you underneath him instead of his usual partners.
He times it just right, squeezing around his tip in time with the steady slap just beyond the wall. Are you fucking yourself? On your knees, hands flat on the floor, churning up your insides with a toy… or maybe ass up, dildo attached to something…? He almost cums with that mental image, wondering what you'd look like on your knees for him. Is the dildo as big as him? He knows you, knows you'd want it to hurt - for his cock to stretch out your pretty pussy when he cums deep inside you.
All things he thinks about with a hand around his cock, and he's already close. But he wants to cum with you, listening intently for the signs.
" Fuck," Your voice comes out muffled, but it makes him buck up into his fist all the same. " Need it… oh God, I-"
He speeds up, wondering what it would be like to have your thighs shake underneath him, what it would take to have you babbling and begging for more. How would he break you? Maybe on his cock, where he'd watch you squirm as you take his length. Or on your knees, choking around him and licking up his cum. Or, God, thighs wrapped around his head, riding out your high with his mouth sealed on your clit, crying for him slow down, for him to-
" H-Harder, Miguel, please."
He releases, sudden and intense, spilling white ropes into his boxers.
" Fuck, Miguel…"
He fucks his fist through it, overstimulated from the way you say his name. It feels like the only way it should be said; spilling from your mouth, haphazard and desperate. Like honey, like treacle; sweet things he didn't know he had the capacity for. He lets that feeling wash over him, panting, bringing his forehead to rest on cool wall.
~~~
He's hot. He's smart. He's a whore.
A total blindspot for you, and no matter how much you can't stand him; you still find yourself stealing glances whenever he's home.
And he does seem to be home a lot more, often choosing to study on the dining table rather than his room. It's like he does it on purpose, using the warmer weather as an excuse to wear tiny tank tops and loose gray sweats - showing off the muscles of his broad back and arms perfectly.
Funnily enough, when he's not around those girls, he's bearable - seems to have grown a couple of brain cells in those short few days between sessions.
You laugh and joke, sometimes, and he surprises you by suggesting a movie one quiet night.
He offers you his sweater to snuggle into, you eat your weight in greasy takeout, and your roommate seems like an actually decent guy??
You had fallen into an easy routine: O'Hara leaves a flask of coffee for you to snatch up in the morning, hair damp from the shower and all, and you meet him with netflix and instant noodles in the evening. A push and pull that works in the little space - much smoother than your rocky beginnings.
After a truly shitty day, you come home to a quiet apartment. Almost sleeping through an exam, forgetting lunch, missing the bus home, and having to trek back through pouring rain in a thin coat. Everything that could go wrong, did, and you are left with the pieces. You trudge through the living room into the kitchen, the wet squelch of socks on laminate floor haunting every step. Shedding your limp outerwear, you lay the contents of your backpack onto the kitchen counter: clumps of loose paper, the damp leftovers of a textbook, bleeding ink. Your main concern, however, is your laptop slick with rain water.
With baited breath, you put it on the slab, and press the power button. A click, a stuttering whir, and the screen flickers on. Then, just as strained, it putters off. Dead. Completely dead. Your legs almost give out, and you lean on the counter to steady yourself. Half of your life was there; including the final project that would make up a good chunk of your grade. It takes you everything not to collapse onto the floor right then and there.
"How was it?" You hear the click of a door and Miguel calls out from the hallway.
You wince."...F-Fine?"
You hear footsteps, as he gets closer. "Are you asking or telling me?"
You clear your throat, desperately trying to keep your voice steady. "Fine. It was fine. I'm just… it was fine."
Back still turned, you fumble around with the wet contents of your bag, hoping he doesn't notice.
"Long day?" He says warmly, head poking into the kitchen. Haphazardly, you spare him a glance from behind your shoulder. He's dressed in a sweater that fits snug around his chest, rolled up to expose his forearms, and loose sweats. In his hands, he drinks from a cheesy mug - your mug, donning a stupid pun. He looks warm. Cosy. Domestic. For some, reason it makes your heart sink even further.
Long day? "Something like that." You manage to squeeze out. There's a pregnant pause as he comes closer. Rummaging blindly through a cupboard, you try to hide behind its door. If he sees you like this, now, you don't know if you'll be able to hold it together.
You close the door, and all of a sudden he's there, mug in hand.
" Fuck, man- " It makes you jump, as he squints and takes a sip of his coffee.
"You look… wet."
"That's because it rained, Miguel." Snapping at him, your tone is biting. You're tired, stressed and in desperate need of a cry, but he is unrelenting in his gaze.
"Are you ok?" He asks, unfazed.
There's a lump in your throat and all you can do is nod with a tight expression. His eyes flicker towards the counter and you shuffle, trying to cover up the mess. And then you watch it happen; initial confusion, a flash of realisation, and then worry; all in the space of a couple seconds.
Gently, he pulls you aside to inspect the damage. "Mierda. This is pretty bad. You sure you're ok?"
He's got a hand on your arm now, The dam breaks and you crumple into tears in the kitchen floor. Of course, he comes with you, rubbing your back as you blubber through the details.
" Nothing's going right for me… and I've got my final project on there… I'm barely keeping up as it is…" All he does is nod, face tight with something you can't quite name. It must seem pathetic to him, you think, shamelessly crying on the kitchen floor, complaining to your poor roommate. He can't leave you like this, because he's a decent person - but internally, he must think you're going crazy.
It helps, having him there: a steady presence by your side. Slowly but surely, your tears subside.
"You could've asked me to pick you up." He hands you some tissues off the counter, and watches as you mop up the tears. "I would've come, if you called."
"I didn't… I didn't think we were…" You search for the right word.
"...friends?" He offers, with a small smile. "You think I let just anyone steal my sweaters?"
"First of all," It makes you laugh, despite yourself. "You offered. And second, I've seen what you do with your friends, and I don't know if I have the energy for it."
"Ouch." Bashful, he rubs his chest like it aches. He sits a little close to you, knocking your shoulders with his own. "I know this girl who's crazy good with computers. I could ask her to take a look, if you'd like? Might not be able to save it but maybe we could recover the files?"
"...I'd like that, to be honest."
"Muy bien ." He leaps to his feet, palm stretched towards you to help you up. "I'll run you a warm bath or something. You're creating a puddle and it's going to ruin my floor."
"Our floor, asshole. I pay rent here, too."
~~~
You find that you enjoy being around him, and he feels the same.
You can't help but compare him to your shitty ex who you were planning to move in with: and even with his quirks, Miguel is better in every way.
There is harmony in your household, for a while, and you almost look forward to coming home to him after class. Almost.
It doesn't last long, because of course it doesn't. You'd thought you'd come to a tentative ceasefire, able to casually rib and joke with each other - takeout and B-roll movies aside. He leaves you leftovers from food he makes, you turn down your music when he's studying, and he even woke you up the other day when you had slept through your alarm.
Beyond the wall, his music is loud: a playlist you recognise as the one he puts on to (unsuccessfully) mask the noise of his usual late night adventures. Cheesy love ballads, heady RnB that leaks into your own room. You'd rather die than admit his taste in music isn't horrible, but it usually means a long, long night for everyone around. With finals around the corner, there's no way you can let this stand.
What kind of person does that? Lull you into a false sense of security with Snakes on a Plane and pepperoni pizza?
Absorbed in your own work, you hadn't even realised he had someone over; let alone was gearing up for obnoxious sex. You'd bang on the wall, but you feel like you guys are past that: crossed a threshold of intimacy that means you can shout at him up close and personal.
So you stomp over to the hallway, banging at the door to his room. In the short trip there, you've worked yourself into a frenzy. How many times have you told him to keep it down? That it was rude and inconsiderate to flaunt his sex life in your face; to fuck other women so loud you were practically involved? There was something about the little smile he would give you afterwards, when you catch him shepherding his latest out the door in the morning - like he gets off on it, enjoys it, when you react. Even when you think you're over it, he still manages to drive you absolutely crazy.
“Miguel? Open the fuck up!"
You're still fuming when the door opens with a click, and Miguel appears in the sliver of the doorway. He opens it so that his frame is half swallowed by the door, top half peeking through with a lazy hand in his hair. And of his top half, he's bare from the waist up, black band of his boxers sitting low on his v-line and loose sweats.
All the wind is knocked from your sails, and you lose your train of thought.
"Yeah?"
"I…" You clear your throat. "I don't care who you fuck, but when I'm doing work-"
"-I'm not." He chuckles. "There's no one here, hermosa. Just me. And you, I guess…"
There's something about the way he says it, lazily, as if it's his first time saying those words - wrapping his tongue around your name to see how it fits. If it fits, how it tastes. His relaxed posture, the way his hair falls…
"You're high." Your brow shoots up. "... you're high!"
With a finger pressed to his lips, he grabs your hand and pulls you into his room, eyes darting around the hallway.
"Shhh! You can't-" Now, he gets close, whispering like he's saying something he shouldn't. "You can't tell anyone. "
"I won't." You breathe. His face is serious at first, and then you're both giggling. You've never seen him so carefree, and it's nice to see Miguel walking around without the weight of the world on his shoulders.
He's still holding your hand, pressed close, and you see him drag his eyes up and down your figure. "You want do something you'll regret…?"
"...I've got a 9am, tomorrow, I really-"
"-shouldn't?" He finishes, dragging his hand up your bare arm, pupils blown. He gets up to your shoulders, tucking your hair behind your ear. It's sinful, the way his touch is gentle but gaze heavy - violent in the way he practically eyefucks you. You feel bare, in little sleep shorts and a t-shirt.
He steps back, lounging on his bed, and makes for a half finished blunt by the adjacent window sill. Sighing, you sit by him, sinking into the mattress. He pats you closer, dangerously close, and you comply. One arm curled by your waist, the other brings the blunt up close and you wrap your lips around it. When Miguel brings a lighter to the blunt, you lean into it, knuckles brushing your lips.
You take a drag, long, heavy, eyes closed. And when they open, you're met with his own. Maybe it's the weed, maybe it's the heady atmosphere, but you swear his eyes are low and deep with lust.
"Good girl." He rumbles, cupping your chin and tracing a thumb to your lips. He separates, bringin the blunt to his own lips before leaning back to pass it to you. As quick as he gets close, he pulls away; leaning back into the expanse of his large bed. And he looks good, head drawn back and the curve of his tan arm drawn upwards. Tufts of hair from his chest, the trail that leads down suggestively - and without inhibition, you basically drool over him. God, there it is. You feel it kick in and let it wash over you.
His music, long forgotten, blends into your downy haze. You want to sit in his lap, rest your head on his chest. You get it now: if this is the view all those women he tutors get to have, then you finally understand.
"Come closer, hermosa ." You barely register the nickname, only focused on the way he says it, the delicious way it rolls off of his tongue. You nod, and shuffle closer. His siren song sounds sweeter, somehow, up close.
You pass the blunt between you both, and watch it dwindle to the last dregs. Lying down next to him, he clutches your hand and takes the butt between his fingers, letting its flames die as you watch. You giggle and his gaze softens.
"I didn't expect this from you." You look up to see an upside-down Miguel, hiding a smile.
"Expect what?" He drags himself downwards, to rest his head by your side.
"All…" You gesture vaguely. "This. Don't even think I've been in your room for this long, before."
His room looks exactly how you'd expect it: tidy and modest, a row of trophies neatly lined up on a shelf, a telescope pointing out towards a window. There are posters by his bed; science related, mostly. You tilt your head in the direction of one of them.
"Is this what they see?" You mumble to no one in particular.
He manages to catch it, sluggish in his response. "...Is this what who sees?"
"All the girls you fuck." It tumbles your of your mouth, before you can help it.
He tilts his head too, looking at the poster and you watch the sharp lines of his jaw besides you. Even at this angle, he's so pretty.
"Huh. I guess they do."
"It's not very romantic, is it?" You blink, oblivious. Your question is met with a noncommittal shrug. "What was her name last time? Cassie, Clara-something…"
"Katie." He hums.
"Katie." Ignoring the twinge of disappointment at his quick response, you hope it's the weed and not jealousy that made you pretend to forget her name.
You sit up on your haunches, tracing the valleys and mountains of his bare chest with a leisurely finger. You try not to notice the way he shivers at your touch.
"I could hear everything. Every, 'Yes daddy'," You feign a moan by curling your lips into an O-shape. You bring your other hand to your hair, head tilted back with exaggerated movement. "And 'right there, Miggy, right fuckin' there' ."
Technically, you're making fun of him and laughing, expecting him to follow. But he doesn't, head back and eyes boring into you - only bringing a hand to press yours at his chest.
"Thin walls, Miguel." You clear your throat, sensing a shift in the atmosphere. Too far, probably. "Sorry, shit. I didn't mean-"
"I hear you too." He says softly. "I heard you, the other day."
Head filled with cotton, it takes a moment for his words to really click. So he elaborates, lacing his fingers with your own.
"Fucking yourself, hermosa ." He says it lazily, like the vulgarity of the act doesn't register.
Your eyes widen in horror. How much exactly did he hear?
"...and I heard you say my name."
"It was…. i-it wasn't like that-" Fuck. You can't think straight as it is: and his voice is low and silky, rubbing circles on your hand close to his chest. Even now, he oozes confidence, the steady thump-thump of his heart giving away nothing.
"Hmmm? Then what is it like?" You blink at him, unable to answer. "You're a hypocrite. You complain about all these women I supposedly fuck, but then-"
He pulls you closer, so that your lips almost touch his. "-you lock yourself in your room, touching yourself and thinking about your poor roommate. What am I meant to do with you?"
A pause, and in your daze, you can't breathe. For all your theatrics, it's too easy for him - to prod and tease, and for you to chase after him. You move to kiss him, but he grabs your chin at the last second. "Not quite. I want to hear you say it."
"Fuck- " You crumple, hiding your head in the crook of his shoulder. Even in your haze, the nerves bubble up from the base of your stomach. "Fuck me, please , Miguel."
He places a hand on your thigh, leading you to straddle his middle, other hand wrapped around your waist. He grinds your lower half into his, leaning up to bring your lips together.
He tastes sweet, greedily lapping up your moans in the clash. You're not thinking, not really, lost in the heat of his body, desperate and eager when you kiss. To contrast, Miguel cups your chin, pulling you away for air whenever you sink too deep. Somehow, he still manages to look smug, taunting you with a flash of his little fangs whenever you separate. If you weren't feeling the effects of that blunt, you may have had the means to be embarrassed at how much you want him - needily grinding against him and pawing at his chest.
It's too slow, too leisurely, like a punishment; and he refuses to give you what he knows you want. Your whines betray you when he finally slips a hand down your shorts.
"¿Paciencia, hmm?" He grabs a handful of your ass, clothed cock catching on your clit. It rips another moan from you, which he happily swallows with another kiss. "Patience, princesa."
You hump against one another like teenagers, your hands planted by his head for purchase. Hips moving of their own accord, you chase the relief Miguel provides: with his hands kneading your ass, length catching at your clit, and teeth nipping at your bare neck.
He licks a stripe up your collarbone, soothing the blossoming hickeys with a hum.
Fuck, how can he be so casual ? You don't know if it's the weed or something else, but he is in his element, hand dipping down your back to graze at your pussy from behind. He hisses when he realises how wet you are, swiping his fingers down your slit and taking them out to pop them in his mouth.
Now, flushed and face hot with embarrassment, you look up at him with big doe eyes. It makes Miguel feel guilty for stopping you so close to your climax. Beautiful : lower lip hooked under your teeth, plump and swollen and kissable. He'll make up for it later: a promise he whispers into skin.
"You're soaked." He cups your cheek to press a kiss to your forehead, and all you can do is whine. His gaze dips down, to the swell of your tits in that thin shirt..
"What did you think about when you touched yourself?" It's soft, said in the warm press of your bodies; hook-shaped and hazy and you fit like you were made for one another. The thought lingers, plants a dangerous seed that makes you forget that the man underneath you is your roommate : unrepentant whore, Miguel O'Hara.
"You." You've seen it first hand, he eats hearts for breakfast; and yours is on a platter for him to devour.
He laughs, deep and rumbling, hands resting on your waist. "I know that, baby. You don't have fantasies? Fuck yourself to the thought of someone touchin' you just right?"
Not just someone, him, you think. Your voice dies in your throat at the way he looks at you. "Just… n-nothing really-"
He hums, grinding your hips onto his. "Speechless, I can't believe it. Is this what I need to do to get some fucking peace around here?"
You roll your eyes, "Don't be a dick, Miguel. When I shout, it's because you deserve it."
"...there it is." Eyes shining, his face stretches into a shit-eating grin. Wide, unabashed, unambiguous. "You back with the living, sweetheart?"
It makes you laugh, even though you hate to give him the satisfaction.
"What do you want?" He kneads your thigh and pleasure pools at the base of your stomach.
You mumble something begrudgingly.
"Hmm? Can't hear you, baby."
Louder, now. "...want to sit on your face, Miguel."
Lowly, he groans, shaking his head. "Mierda… of course you do."
Expertly, he helps you take your shorts off, dragging the thin material down your thighs. You clambers upwards, wrapping them around his shoulders, watching intently as he kneads the soft skin. It's tentative, at first, and you place your hands on the headboard to perch just above his mouth.
He licks, diving in with the flat of his tongue: a long upwards stroke that ends with him sucking your clit. Moaning, your hips jump and he chases your pretty pussy up, large palms pushing you back down. He concentrates on your bundle of nerves, lips around your clit like a man on a mission.
And, God, does it feel good; he watches and learns from your every movement, committing your body to memory. His moans vibrate deliciously, tension building at that spot faster than your mind can register it. Then, you clench around nothing, gushing into his mouth whilst he eases you through it. The noises he makes are obscene; one leg off the bed and a hand snaked under his boxers. He's getting off on it; watching you crumple and sob around his tongue.
And when you begin to move off, thighs sore, he doesn't relent, sealing his mouth on your pretty little hole.
"Miguel.. fuck-" After your first orgasm, it surprises you when he continues, tongue fucking you with fervour. He presses you close, impossibly close, and your body fights against his ministrations. Heat, everywhere, and it's too much. The haze of the blunt begins to wear off and you are left with biting clarity. You want more of him, deeper; drunk off of just his tongue.
You card your hands in his hair, and he moans: deep and wanton, with his eyes fluttering shut. He wants to look, to watch you when you cum on his tongue for a second time. Back arched, the curve of your tits peeking through a tiny top, fucking yourself on his face. He wants it hard , wants you to take control and use him to get off.
"Right there, fuck… "
Like you can hear his thoughts, you press yourself down harder, riding the deep ridge of his nose for relief. Miguel complies and leans into it. He eats you out like a man starved and the carnality of it all brings you to a second peak. You cum once again, legs wrapped tight around his face. Head back, he laps it up readily.
You separate with a wet pop, and Miguel looks blissful : fucked out and panting, wiping the slick off of his face with a forearm. Exhausted, you lean back onto the mattress beside him.
"That was…" He searches for the right word, and it's your turn to finish for him.
"... good. " Scarily good. So good you won't be able to see him around the apartment without remembering what he looks like trapped between your thighs.
Gently, he turns to cup your cheek and bring your lips to his. It starts off sweet and deepens rapidly, making that thread at the pit of your stomach tighten, again. He grabs your thigh, bringing it closer, and you feel his length poking your stomach. Fuck.
"You haven't…?" Your hand makes for his trousers, and he stops you. "I want to, Miguel. Want you to feel good too."
His head sinks into your shoulder. "I know, baby, I know. Not like this. Not yet."
You nod, still wrapped up in his arms. You haven't even fucked, and it feels more intimate than it should.
"You've got a 9am tomorrow." He smiles with a hand underneath his head.
"I've got a 9am tomorrow," You repeat, sighing. "...and my life is falling apart. I'm failing half of my classes as it is."
He turns to you, lazily.
"I could tutor you, if you'd like."
…
"That's not fucking funny, Miguel."
_
_
Miguel taglist: @d1lf-loverrr, @afro-hispwriter @ilovemiguelohara @weedxgirlx420 @ladydovahkiin180 @aaliyuh3 @sweetanimebakery @vvitcxen @rosecoloredlenses708 @daikondal @magikmina @impettywhenyouare @alonelygirlsuicidenote @plushyplants @javi0ca @rheeves @starrfruit @nikirikii @marsbars09 @foxglove-grove @mimooyi @crosshairclown @dead-by-light @kynamitedessert @naarra @wanderlustingcastaway @sagejin @cookielovesbook-akie @tangerineloverrr @gobblegluckgluckgod @wolfiepirate @jxxey3 @ebrysteria @elliemm @manchuria @youngghostpeachslime @weasleybuns @ilovemuppets @vauriz @bonbyon @aimno256 @ancientbeing10 @tvije @venus1224idkpleaze @neteyamsbulletwound @chickenjefferson-blog @maki-z @jasjasthings
_
edit: the full fic xx
#i am very very close to making this a full fic#(implying that this isn't alr basically a full fic lmfao)#miguel o hara x reader#miguel o'hara x reader#across the spiderverse#kat_writes😼#miguel o'hara#miguel o'hara smut#miguel o'hara headcanons#spiderman 2099 masterlist#spiderman 2099 x reader
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Palestine Masterlist
Introduction to Palestine:
Decolonize Palestine:
Palestine 101
Rainbow washing
Frequently asked questions
Myths
IMEU (Institute for Middle East Understanding):
Quick Facts - The Palestinian Nakba
The Nakba and Palestinian Refugees
The Gaza Strip
The Palestinian catastrophe (Al-Nakba)
Al-Nakba (documentary)
The Hundred Years’ War on Palestine: A History of Settler Colonialism and Resistance, 1917-2017 (book)
The Ethnic Cleansing of Palestine (book)
Nakba Day: What happened in Palestine in 1948? (Article)
The Nakba did not start or end in 1948 (Article)
Donations and charities:
Al-Shabaka
Electronic Intifada
Adalah Justice Project
IMEU Fundraiser
Medical Aid for Palestinians
Palestine Children’s Relief Fund
Addameer
Muslim Aid
Palestine Red Crescent
Gaza Mutual Aid Patreon
Books:
A New Critical Approach to the History of Palestine
The Idea of Israel: A History of Power and Knowledge
Hidden Histories: Palestine and the Eastern Mediterranean
The Balfour Declaration: Empire, the Mandate and Resistance in Palestine
Queer Palestine and the Empire of Critique
From Haven to Conquest: Readings in Zionism and the Palestine Problem until 1948
Captive Revolution - Palestinian Women's Anti-Colonial Struggle within the Israeli Prison System
Palestine: A Four Thousand Year History
Except for Palestine: The Limits of Progressive Politics
Before Their Diaspora: A Photographic History of The Palestinians 1876-1948
The Battle for Justice in Palestine Paperback
Uncivil Rites: Palestine and the Limits of Academic Freedom
Palestine Rising: How I survived the 1948 Deir Yasin Massacre
The Transformation of Palestine: Essays on the Origin and Development of the Arab-Israeli Conflict
A Land Without a People: Israel, Transfer, and the Palestinians 1949-1996
The Iron Cage: The Story of the Palestinian Struggle for Statehood
A History of Modern Palestine: One Land, Two Peoples
Where Now for Palestine?: The Demise of the Two-State Solution
Terrorist Assemblages - Homonationalism in Queer Times
Militarization and Violence against Women in Conflict Zones in the Middle East
The one-state solution: A breakthrough for peace in the Israeli-Palestinian deadlock
The Persistence of the Palestinian Question: Essays on Zionism and the Palestinians
Fateful Triangle: The United States, Israel and the Palestinians
The False Prophets of Peace: Liberal Zionism and the Struggle for Palestine
Ten myths about Israel
Blaming the Victims: Spurious Scholarship and the Palestinian Question
Israel and its Palestinian Citizens - Ethnic Privileges in the Jewish State
Palestinians in Israel: Segregation, Discrimination and Democracy
Greater than the Sum of Our Parts: Feminism, Inter/Nationalism, and Palestine
Palestine Hijacked
Palestinian Culture:
Mountain against the Sea: Essays on Palestinian Society and Culture
Palestinian Costume
Traditional Palestinian Costume: Origins and Evolution
Tatreez & Tea: Embroidery and Storytelling in the Palestinian Diaspora
Embroidering Identities: A Century of Palestinian Clothing (Oriental Institute Museum Publications)
The Palestinian Table (Authentic Palestinian Recipes)
Falastin: A Cookbook
Palestine on a Plate: Memories from My Mother's Kitchen
Palestinian Social Customs and Traditions
Palestinian Culture before the Nakba
Tatreez & Tea (Website)
The Traditional Clothing of Palestine
The Palestinian thobe: A creative expression of national identity
Embroidering Identities:A Century of Palestinian Clothing
Palestine Traditional Costumes
Palestine Family
Palestinian Costume
Encyclopedia of World Dress and Fashion, v5: Volume 5: Central and Southwest Asia
Tent Work in Palestine: A Record of Discovery and Adventure
Documentaries, Films, and Video Essays:
Jenin, Jenin
Born in Gaza
GAZA
Wedding in Galilee
Omar
5 Broken Cameras
OBAIDA
Indigeneity, Indigenous Liberation, and Settler Colonialism (not entirely about Palestine, but an important watch for indigenous struggles worldwide - including Palestine)
Edward Said - Reflections on Exile and Other Essays
Palestine Remix:
AL NAKBA
Gaza Lives On
Gaza we are coming
Lost cities of Palestine
Stories from the Intifada
Last Shepherds of the Valley
Voices from Gaza
Muhammad Smiry
Najla Shawa
Nour Naim
Wael Al dahdouh
Motaz Azaiza
Ghassan Abu Sitta
Refaat Alareer (murdered by Israel - 12/7/2023. Inna lillahi wa inna ilayhi raji'un)
Plestia Alaqad
Bisan Owda
Ebrahem Ateef
Mohammed Zaanoun
Doaa Mohammad
Hind Khoudary
Palestinian Voices, Organizations, and News
Boycott Divest and Sanction (BDS)
Defense for Children in Palestine
Palestine Legal
Palestine Action
Palestine Action US
United Nations relief and works for Palestinian refugees in the Middle East (UNRWA)
National Students for Justice in Palestine (SJP)
Times of Gaza
Middle East Eye
Middle East Monitor
Mohammed El-Kurd
Muna El-Kurd
Electronic Intifada
Dr. Yara Hawari
Mariam Barghouti
Omar Ghraieb
Steven Salaita
Noura Erakat
The Palestinian Museum N.G.
Palestine Museum US
Artists for Palestine UK
Eye on Palestine
#Palestine#free palestine#palestine masterlist#apartheid#settler colonialism#links#donation post#BDS#Middle East#Palestinian liberation#palestinian culture#long post#resources#dcip#gaza
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Art Help
I redid this list because broken links 💀
General Tips
Stretch your fingers and hands
Art is for fun
Never too late to start/improve
Tumblr radar! Submit your work!?
Using a tablet
Editing software: pictures & video
Moodboard resources
Comic pacing
Storyboarding techniques
Watercolor
Coloring
Color Theory (not children's hospital)
Gemstone reference
Resources: coloring things a different color
Gold
Dark Skin undertones
Dark Skin in pastel art
POC Blush tones
Eyes colors
Cohesive Color Palette
Lights and Colors
Human Anatomy
POSE REFERENCES
Eyes: pupil shape, direction
Wizard Battle poses
Romance poses
Shoulders
Tips for practicing anatomy
Proportional Limbs
Skeletons
Hair Directions
Afro, 4C hair
Cane use
Dingle dongles: male reproductive
Clothing
Long skirts
Traditional Chinese Hanfu (clothing reference)
Cultural clothes
CLOTHING REFERENCE
Medieval armor
Sewing information
Animals
Horse -> Dragon
Snouts: dogs, cats, wolves, fox
Foot, paw, hoof
Plants
Blossoms: cherry, plum, apricot, etc
Plants/flowers: North America, Hawaii, Patagonia
More
Drawing references sources
More references: floorplanner, height & weight, expressions, hands, animals, sculpting tool
Art tutorial Masterlist
Another art tutorial Masterlist
Inspiration: father recreates son's art
Inspiration: Lights
ART BOOKS
Art Cheats
#art tips#art tutorial#art references#pose reference#art masterlist#clothing art#art clothing#digital art#watercolor#poc#art
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Why I use the distinction of "non-alcoholic beverages" in (most of) my x Readers
Because this is Tumblr, I've been here long enough to know it's probably necessary to preface this by saying that I am *not* shaming people who do or have written their stories this way within the Star Wars fandom specifically.
This is just something that bugs me, personally, that I've debated on speaking out into the void that is my little corner of this site for a while now, and I'm hesitant to get it off my chest for many reasons, but ask I take on requests, this is likely a pattern that will start to crop up more.
I'll slap it below the cut so if you read it, it's your choice to read something you may disagree with that I'm trying to maybe ask a little more consideration for, but mostly why I write my fics the way I do.
I'm afraid someone out there will think I'm trying to police the fandom when I ask that people be perhaps a little more considerate of those who consume Star Wars x readers that don't drink.
I, personally, don't because I don't want to screw with my medication that I take for mental health and chronic health issues like migraines/pain. This is one of the very, very, very, VERY few things that can disrupt my immersion in a fic without at least a general warning that drinking is in some way involved.
All these lovely fics about going to 79's for a flirtatious fling, or a truly spicy encounter, with whichever Clone suits my fancy almost always seems to involve an assumption that:
A.) Reader is of drinking age for starters (and that varies country by country)
and
B.) Reader does not fall into a category that would exclude them from drinking; situations like my own, or they're a recovering alcoholic, etcetera.
To fill a void in the content I wish [I would get more of] to see, my fic requests that do not get slapped with a 13+ (or 18+) age warning, I chose to make the mention that what you're drinking with your favorite Clone is explicitly non-alcoholic because I'm not going to assume you're of drinking age even with your age(range) in your bio because I don't know if you do or don't drink.
The safest, and most inclusive option for already very inclusive fics that I've seen other lovely people on Tumblr write, is present a non-alcoholic beverage.
It's coming up in another fic that I'm working on, but there is a bar scene I've written that presents Reader with two choices when they greet the bartender. It is never specified which one they chose between the drink with alcohol, or the drink without. That's up to imagination and it's, I feel, more inclusive to people like me who do not, can not, or choose not to drink. The beverage has no bearing or effect on the plot, it is merely a prop while they talk to the Clone the storyline is centered on.
To reiterate; I am not shaming or policing anyone, but just perhaps venting a small-potatoes frustration of mine that I wish would change, but I understand that's asking a lot... Or that someone might see this and take it as an attack on their writing. That's not what this is.
This is just me saying "This is what I do. Here's why. Make sense? Cool, thanks for giving me a moment of your time." and leaving it at that.
#frosts fandom freakouts#why i do the thing#nervous to post this one quite honestly#for the masterlist#star wars#cw alcohol#tw alcohol#thanks for giving me a moment of your time
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