#I'm not really native

[tusks-and-claws]

The Death of Peace of Mind

Miguel O’hara x female reader

Summary: "I miss the way you say my name/the way you bend, the way you break"

You think your fearless leader needs help relaxing, but another door is opened entirely

Tags/warnings: smut (18+), oneshot, fingering, blowjob, pronebone, blood, biting, unprotected sex, paralytic venom, dominant Miguel, dirty talk, God there’s so much to list : )

Word count: 3.3k 

Can also be found on Ao3 here. Please give it some love if you enjoyed ;_;

-

"I know better than this, I shouldn't be… we shouldn't be doing this."

Miguel O'Hara sat at the edge of your bed, your room softly illuminated by a candle on the bedside table. He liked the dark. His back was to you, his broad shoulders slumped forward, as you had your back against your headboard. He was still in his suit, his mask off.

"Miguel…" you said, starting this conversation again for the umpteenth time. "You have needs, too, y'know." 

He waved a hand dismissively. "What are my needs when compared to all this?" He gestured to nothing. You weren't even at HQ. You were both in your dimension. A vacation, you had said. You could never get him to leave HQ for long. "I know what happens when I try to get what I want. When I go where I don't belong."

You furrowed your brow. "But you do belong here, I invited you."

"You know exactly what I mean." He spoke quickly. Trying to expel the words as fast as possible. 

Your arms crossed over your chest as you eyed him. He'd been through a lot, yes, but what Spider hadn't? How long was he going to keep ignoring himself for the greater good? What purpose would he serve if he tore himself apart? 

"You're right," you said, finally. 

"What?" He asked, peering over his shoulder to look at you, incredulous. 

"You're right," you repeated. "You can leave."

"I… well. I suppose I can leave. Do you… want me to?"

You suppressed a smile. "I don't really care," you lied. 

"You…?" He turned around at that, hands on the bed as he swiveled his torso to meet your eyes. "You can't be serious. I- I made the effort to make sure Jess could cover me so we could come here, I… it's a huge waste of time. You see that, don't you?" 

"I guess so." It was hard for you to break eye contact with him, but you managed to do it, and stared pointedly out the window. 

"You 'guess,' I can't-" he rubbed his face with his hands. "You're so frustrating, I can't read you, you-" 

Your face broke, betraying you, a smirk cracking your façade.

He narrowed his eyes, fully turning around now, bringing his knees up onto the bed to crawl to you. His claws came out, and they pulled at the threads of your comforter, threatening to tear holes. "Is this what you want? You want to make me mad?" 

You blushed as he made his way to you, his sudden intensity stirring you into silence. 

"Well?" He asked. "Suddenly so quiet." He reached you now, looming over you with both hands on the headboard on either side of you, his muscular thighs straddling your legs. His huge frame took up your whole vision, his presence overwhelming your heightened senses. Heat was radiating from his body. His scent washed over you. He was all clean musk and warmth and something deeper, something primal. It played to your baser mind, telling you to lose control and give in. 

You swallowed. "You have no need to stay here." You weren't done teasing him just yet. 

"But you have need, hm?" He looked down to study your form, releasing his hands from the headboard to touch the hem of your shirt. "Don't you?"

You held your breath, nodding.

"Say it." His tone was casual. Flippant.

Your breath left you as your lips parted to speak, the words far from you as your brain grew foggy. He always liked to hear you admit how much you wanted it, how much you wanted him. And he always asked you when he knew you'd struggle to form a response. 

"Yes." It was the only thing your brain made abundantly clear. Yes. Yes, you have needs. Yes, in this moment, he was one of them. 

"Yes what?"

How cruel. Under his gaze for this long, intense and bloodshot, you grew more flustered and delirious. 

"Yes, Miguel, I have need of you." You impressed yourself with the eloquence of your reply. 

"Oh? Oh, do you?" His hands finally moved again, snaking under the bottom of your shirt, the fabric of his suit keeping your skin from touching his. "That's kind of selfish of you, isn't it?"

You nodded, biting your bottom lip and closing your eyes as his hands moved to firmly hold the sides of your waist, thumbs stroking soft skin. He was being careful to not scratch you. Though his claws were retractable, you noticed throughout your encounters that he had a hard time keeping them hidden when his passions were running high. But part of you didn't care if he marked you up. Part of you wanted to keep something from him. Something more than awkward passing glances and intimate encounters that were few and far between. 

"M-Miguel?"

"Mm? What is it?"

"You don't need to be gentle, y’know."

His gaze flicked to meet yours as he raised an eyebrow. He seemed amused. 

"It's just that," for some reason, you felt the need to elaborate. "I'm strong, too. I can handle it. You've been so stressed."

"So… you want me to use you?" His voice was low and level. 

Use. The word sent a shock up your spine. He could see the emotions flashing across your face, the thoughts of him, of what he might do to you. Was this safe? Could he control himself? He'd have to. You'd just have to trust him. 

You released a breath you hadn't noticed you were holding, meeting him in his bloodshot eyes. "Yes. Please."

He grinned, bearing his pearly fangs in the flickering candlelight. The fog in your head grew thicker at the sight of them. Would he bite you with them? How would they feel against your skin? How would they feel piercing you? Would it hurt? Would it-

The feeling of his bare forefinger, claw retracted, gently teasing your slit quickly shut you up. When did he move his hand under the hem of your shorts? You were so deep within your own clouded thoughts, you hadn't even noticed. He caressed you there before carefully plunging his finger into your heat. The feeling was immediately maddening. You bit your lip to keep yourself from asking for more, for another finger, for his mouth, for his- no. You were following his pace. This was what you wanted, yes, but it was mostly for him. You somehow knew that he needed this more than you did, though he'd never admit it.

The whole time, he kept his reddened eyes on your face, studying every reaction. "You're wet, you're so wet…." His voice was quiet. "So, this is what does it for you, huh?" He pumped his finger at a steady pace. You could hear the wet sounds he elicited with his efforts. You braced yourself on his hulking shoulders, preparing for him to quicken at any moment. But he was agonizingly slow. His free hand gripped the headboard above you as he leaned down to whisper into your ear. "Me, your leader, using you." There was that word again. You lightly arched your back into him upon hearing it, trying to keep yourself calm for now. Falling apart could come later. "I try so hard to hold it all together. But you… you threaten me. The looks you give me, your smiles, your smell, estoy cachondo, fuck." Your eyes widened. He only spoke Spanish when his emotions were heightened. He was unraveling. 

Good.

He slipped his digit out from inside of you and circled your clit with a slick fingertip. The feeling was intense and electric, and even though you were still half-pinned by his muscular thighs, your upper body curled into him. "Seeing you like this…" he swallowed, his heartbeat quickening. "Rendering you helpless… It's revenge for how you make me feel when you look at me the way you do. If I can make you feel half of that… that might be enough. You're going to come for me. Feel what I feel." 

You nodded fervently, unable to speak under his attention, his words, his touch. That delicious, warm feeling was building up and coiling in your core as he kept expertly circling your clit, until the coil finally snapped and you came, lifting up off of the bed and throwing your arms around his neck as you whimpered. Miguel continued as you rode it out, reveling in the newfound wetness that came with your orgasm, until you finally settled down, your heart still thumping in your chest. You released your hold of him, your arms weak, your gaze heavy. He seemed to match your labored breathing, his chest rising and falling in time with yours. You had hardly even touched him and he seemed as much of a mess as you were. 

He stared at you like that for a brief moment, seemingly awestruck at your reaction to this newly opened door. 

"God, I need… I need your mouth around my cock." He flipped unceremoniously off of you to lay on his back at your side. "Come here." Before you had time to react, he had a hand on your head, guiding you downward. Despite the forceful movement, he fondly scratched at your scalp with bare fingers, his hand shaking just enough for you to notice. You positioned yourself so your head rested on his hard abdominals while you admired the display he brought you down to see. His hard cock pushed against his nearly metallic suit. The sheen of the fabric left almost nothing to the imagination. You could see his thick shaft, prominent veins like rivers flowing over a landscape, all leading up to the bulbous head. He twitched eagerly as he sighed, trying to calm his heart. 

You reached your hand up to touch Miguel through his suit, and his reaction was bodily. He hissed a breath in through clenched teeth. You played with his hard length, running the flat of your palm up and down the underside of his shaft, until he couldn't take it anymore. He seemed to be able to dismiss parts of his suit at will, and he did just that, creating an opening so he could spring free. It was always an impressive sight, sizable and thick. His golden skin slightly red with anticipation at the head of his cock, soft dark waves of short hair at the base. Reaching up, you gently held it. You couldn't quite wrap your whole hand around it. He exhaled at your touch, skin on skin. The hand he had in your hair gently pushed your head until your waiting lips met the tip of his cock, and you accepted it, closing your mouth around it.

Miguel threw his head back, slamming it against the headboard and shaking the two of you on the bed. The sound startled you, but you knew the headboard would've taken more damage than Miguel. He gave no indication that he was hurt, and so you kept going, sucking on the tip of his cock and being as noisy as possible so it would overwhelm that heightened hearing of his. And overwhelm it did. The soft, wet heat of your mouth was nearly too much for him. And as you started to take him deeper, he reached his arms up and behind him, taking the headboard into a vice grip. You could hear the wood splintering. 

That should've worried you, you should've cared about your furniture being destroyed. But you didn't. You couldn't, not with Miguel O'Hara melting underneath you. He could destroy a thousand bed frames. So long as you could touch him, could hear him moaning, could watch him as he barely held his composure. This would always be worth it. 

You took him further into your mouth, humming around his length at the pleasant,  full feeling. You were slow, holding him there, savoring the taste of him and the weight of him on your tongue.

"M-move-" he croaked.

You turned your gaze towards his face, raising an eyebrow. He was straining. Muscles bulging, chest heaving, fangs displayed in clenched teeth. You could see the prominent cracks in the wood.

"Move your shocking head, amor."

His hands came down to tangle with your hair, grabbing handfuls so he could move your head for you. You happily let him, and he bobbed you up and down on his shaft as you opened your throat to him. 

"Oh, fuck, yes… that's it. Good girl. You're- you're taking me so fucking well." 

Your eyes started rolling into the back of your head fondly. Good girl. He'd never called you that before. You'd be good for him. You'd be so good. 

The sounds coming from you were the very definition of lewd, as were the strands of thick saliva that connected you to him. You closed your eyes, continuing to breathe through your nose, when you felt something prick your scalp. His claws. In and out, in and out. He was struggling to keep control of them.

"Ay, coño, I can't fucking do this." His voice barely a whisper. "You're gonna," he paused, swallowing. "You're gonna make me lose control, you know that?" Despite his words, he kept going, kept moving your head, even started to thrust his hips up to fuck your throat more thoroughly. His moans turned into what could only be described as growls, and the sound of them hit you like an electric shock, making you want him even more. If that were even possible. 

His claws kept scraping you, threatening to fully unsheath. But Miguel never let them. He finally let your head go, bringing his hands up to his face and rubbing it in exhaustion. You stayed on his cock for a moment longer, carefully lifting your head away and disconnecting from him with a wet pop.

He groaned to himself through his hands. 

"Miguel…? You alright?"

"No." He finally said, "no, I'm fucking not."

You cocked your head in surprise at the response, opening your mouth to question him further until you were cut off by him quickly grabbing you and positioning you underneath him. He was pinning your legs again, but you were faced down this time, your cheeks pressed against the soft sheets as he pushed you into the mattress. He finally let his claws out, and with one swift movement, tore your shorts and panties into ribbons. In that moment, you were glad he couldn't see your face. You were grinning like an idiot. Finally. You're finally seeing the side of him that you always knew was there. That you desperately wanted him to let out. Your previous encounters had been tame compared to this. He'd been holding back. 

"Because now," he grabbed your waist with both of his large hands, holding firm. "Now I know that you like being treated like a little fucktoy. I know that you'll be good for me and that you'll listen. What a rarity." He started to line up the tip of his cock with your entrance. "And if I thought you took up too much space in my head already, well-" he chuckled, pushing his tip into your pussy. "I'll never have peace of mind again."

He thrusted into you, and you were immediately seeing stars. With each pump, he took himself nearly all the way out of your warmth before plunging all the way back in. You could feel every delicious, hot inch of him. So deep and so filling. He fucked you into the mattress so thoroughly and so hard that you were convinced a crater was forming underneath the both of you. You felt the sharp points of his claws pricking your skin but not quite puncturing you. Your head swam as you grew dizzy. 

He released your waist, left hand steadying himself on the low headboard, which was bound to break again. His right arm snuck up underneath your right arm, reaching around your collarbone to grab at your left shoulder, pulling you up so you were close into him. His chest was flush with your back. You reached up to hold onto that arm for dear life, as he brought his mouth down to your ear. 

"Wanna bite you so bad, amor," he growled. "You smell so shocking good. Drivin' me up a fucking wall."

"Do it," you said, your voice strained.

"Wh-what?" His pace wavered. "You can't mean that."

"I- fuck- I do. Bite me, Miguel. Please."

"Are you," he exhaled a shaky breath. "Are you sure? It's a paralytic venom. I've- I've used it on Spiders before and we can withstand it a bit, but, shit… I need you to know what you're getting into." 

"Do it," you said again. 

His entire body shook against you. "Unbelievable…." His voice sounded reverent. "Hold on tight."

You listened, gripping his arm harder, shutting your eyes. His mouth came down to meet the crook of your neck. He inhaled, letting your scent wash over him, before carefully sinking his fangs into your skin. The pain was sharp and fast, and was quickly replaced with a wave of warmth and laxity. Your muscles loosened, allowing him to easily pull you in even closer. He moaned against you, his thrusts quickening, his cock feeling like it was hitting your cervix. With every smack of his skin against yours, he buried himself to the hilt. That incredible, intense feeling was building within you again, deep inside your core.

"Fuck," he hissed into your skin, releasing his jaws and lapping at the light trickle of crimson blood. "Good girl, good girl, I've got you."

He held you and didn't let go, caging you against his huge form, fucking you until that feeling turned into a huge sunburst that sent spots across your vision. Your body trembled involuntarily as you clenched around his cock. 

"Yes," he encouraged, "yes, come for me. Give it all to me. I've got you, bebé."

You smiled against the venom, and he was right, it wasn't too potent in your system. It was just enough to comfortably loosen your muscles. You came down from your high as he kept pumping into you, his pace merciless. His body started to shake again, his right hand's grip on your left shoulder tightening. 

“Too much for me to handle,” he rasped. “I’m gonna come… gonna come inside you.”

“Yes,” you croaked, finding your voice and gaining back enough control of your muscles to push yourself up into him. 

His tempo stuttered as he slammed his hips into you, curling against you as he came. His cock twitched inside of you, spilling hot seed in thick spurts. He held you there for a long while, savoring the feeling of being inside you, like he knew he'd miss the warmth once it was gone. Despite what he wanted, he let go of you and flipped onto his back beside you, placing a hand over his heart as his chest heaved. He closed his eyes, trying to compose himself. Silently reaching for you, he pulled you in so you could rest against his chest, your head rising and falling with each heavy breath he took. He stroked your hair as you stared up at him, his face glowing in the yellow shine of candlelight. 

"That…" he started to say, then stopped, pinching the bridge of his nose. "I…. I needed that." 

You smiled, nuzzling into him. "Thank you." 

"You're thanking me?" He asked, laughing at how ridiculous it sounded. 

"Yeah," you said. "I feel like I finally saw Miguel tonight. Not Spider-Man. But Miguel. And I really like him." 

He rolled his eyes but still smiled, petting your head until you fell asleep on him.

[royalarchivist]

[A sad violin song plays over an image of a sad hamster]

Pac: This doesn't have anything to do with me – I wear a blue sweatshirt, you're crazy, this mouse doesn't even have a sweatshirt, this hamster! [Reading chat] Am I a depressed hamster?

[ Transcript continued ↓ ]*

–

Pac: Actually– that's fine! I embrace that idea – of course I'm going to be depressed, are you crazy? [He hits his desk, then starts counting off people on his fingers] Fit is gone, Richarlyson is gone, Ramon is gone, Bagi and Empanada who were always there when we were there are also gone, I haven't seen them! It's just me and Tubbo, and sometimes Philza shows up.

Pac: I lost Chume Labs, I lost the Favela, I lost Murder Mystery, I lost Ilha Chume Labs, it's crazy! Look at how much I've lost, and I've gained nothing! Of course I'm going to be depressed, are you crazy?! How am I supposed to be happy?!

Pac: [Reading chat] "You have us Pac," that's true, thank you. No, that's true, sorry.

* NOTE: Please note that this is an incomplete transcript, as I was primarily relying on Aypierre's translation mod at the time and if I am not confident of the translation, I do not include it. As always, please feel free to add on translations or message me corrections.

[viperwhispered]

Rest

Guess what? I've got more Jamil x reader for y'all. You can also find this on ao3. No warnings, just 866 words of kinda fluffy(?) caretaking stuff with gender-neutral reader.

At this point, you know Jamil’s schedule almost as well as he does. So, when you have the chance, you head to Scarabia’s kitchen, hoping to spend some time with Jamil while he and the other students prepare dinner. 

However, when you enter, it takes you but a moment to notice Jamil’s uncharacteristic fumbling and the tired look in his eyes. The way Jamil’s chopping the vegetables has you worried about him cutting himself with that knife he’s usually so adept with, and it seems it’s only force of habit that’s keeping him on track.

You frown, and when your eyes meet Jamil’s, you can already see him put his guard up.

So he knows what state he is in, huh? And still, here he is.

It seems Jamil is reading your thoughts, all of him telling you drop it before any words are even said.

At least he still lets you lean in and give a quick kiss to his cheek in greeting.

“Hello love. Do you still have a lot on your agenda for today?” you ask, keeping your tone low for at least some semblance of privacy in the busy kitchen.

“Nothing I can’t handle,” is the response you get.

Of course.

It takes a little more pestering before Jamil actually answers your question. Your lips purse. That list is far too long to your liking.

You take a moment to think, juggling your own plans and to-do list against the urgency of the things Jamil mentioned.

“Will Kalim be eating from that?” you ask, pointing at the food Jamil is preparing.

“Yes.”

“Alright, I won’t be touching that one, then. I’ve gotta do a few things but I’ll be back when you’re done here.”

“Don’t,” Jamil says with a glare, clearly aware of what you’re thinking.

Yet even his disapproving look doesn’t have the usual weight behind it.

“Yes. I will,” you say firmly, even as your heart curls inwards with another bout of concern.

Really, when did he get so tired?

And how did you not notice it earlier?

You leave the kitchen before Jamil can protest further, hurrying through the dorm corridors to find Kalim.

Soon you have an enthusiastic – and concerned – supporter for your plans. You have Kalim point out a few reliable Scarabia students to help with a few of the most urgent matters Jamil mentioned – cleaning up the common areas, delivering some paperwork to Crowley, preparing some dorm-wide notices – while you see to Kalim getting his school supplies in order for the following day. You even recruit a couple of third years to help Kalim with his homework.

You’ll see to the rest tomorrow – after all, you do also have a boyfriend to look after.

Your conversation over dinner can hardly be called anything else than an argument – despite Kalim’s best attempts at acting as a moderating force between you two. It is very tempting to ask Kalim to tell Jamil to take the rest of the day off – it’s not like Jamil would be willing to openly disobey a direct order. Still, you really don’t need to remind Jamil of his position on top of everything else that you’re already doing more or less against his wishes.

Eventually, however, Jamil’s had a square meal, the most urgent things on his to-do list are being taken care of, and you’ve managed to drag him to his bed.

“I really wish you wouldn’t push yourself so hard,” you murmur, your arms wrapped tightly around Jamil. You’re telling yourself you really do just want to cuddle, to offer some respite to Jamil. Still, there might also be a part of you worried that if you were to let go, he’d just jump up and get back to working himself to the bone.

Yet, for all his protestations, just the fact that you’ve gotten Jamil to lay down with you speaks volumes of his current exhaustion.

“I can’t just leave my duties, albi. You know this.”

“Making yourself too indispensable, is what you’re doing,” you protest.

Oh, you know it’s not so simple. Not with his background, not with all the expectations and assumptions.

But sometimes you really wish it would be.

Jamil merely scoffs in response to your words.

Still, it is undeniable that he is slowly beginning to relax in your arms, slowly bringing his head closer to yours. His eyes are starting to flutter, too.

“I will still need to help Kalim with his homework, at the very least.”

You wonder who he is trying to convince more, you or himself.

“Amin and Khalil are helping him. They’re basically top of their classes, aren’t they? I’m sure they’ve got it.”

Still, Jamil frowns.

You sigh. He really is not letting go, is he?

“Do you want me to go supervise?” you ask.

And leave you, unsaid yet hanging there right after your words.

“Don’t,” Jamil eventually says, the word barely more than a breath.

It seems he has accepted his fate.

You softly caress Jamil’s hair, listening to his softening breathing.

And when you wake up, wholly unaware of having been lulled to sleep in the first place, it’s to the lightest of touches from Jamil’s fingers.

Tagging @diodellet @twstgo @crystallizsch @jamilvapologist @jamilsimpno69 as per request If you'd like to be tagged for any future works, let me know!

[reichenbachfalle]

[aroaceleovaldez]

Here is a link to the Cherokee Nation's official site. Here is the Visit Cherokee Nation youtube channel. Here is a playlist for learning Cherokee (and here's one for learning Ojibwe, as a bonus cause i'm biased). Here is a link to Daybreak Star Radio, which is a radio station based in Seattle dedicated to showcasing international first nations and indigenous music that you can listen to online. Here is a pdf of various recipes, including references to which tribes they originate from. Here is a link to The-aila-test's buy native tag, and here is a link to Beyond Buckskin's buy native list (though some of the links are broken). Here is a link to the Cherokee Phoenix newspaper's official site.

now go take a minute and come back once you've done some research so everybody can stop being weird about Piper.

[uncanny-tranny]

At this point, gender nonconformity is about what the person says their experience is.

If a woman with a beard or a man with lipstick and a mustache says they're gender nonconforming, then they are! If a woman with short hair or a man with long hair says they aren't, they aren't! And that's not even getting into the awesome nonbinary, abinary, genderqueer, intersex, and general genderfuckery that may both be and not be conforming.

So much of what is even considered gender conforming or gender nonconforming is based on a world of exclusion. When we start defining one's conformity with whether they fit into white cishetero perisex standards or not, we play into the idea that there's only a very narrow window of what is considered worthy of time and thought.

[celestialowlryx]

Love and loss are two sides of the same coin. Love brings us purpose, joy and life itself. Yet because we love, we also open ourselves up to the immense pain and grief that comes with loss. This motif talks about the feelings and emotions people share towards each other, and also about the catastrophe that may come from this powerful affection. Without love, loss wouldn’t hurt, and without loss, love wouldn’t be as strong. They make each other more powerful. And to experience one, you need to experience the other.

[aerithisms]

rotating the pub scene from 73 yards in my mind i think there is so much being said there about wales and welsh/english tension that is so interesting and is going so under discussed

[several-ravens]

i'm rewatching episode 3 of the acolyte and i'm noticing a lot of weird things about the fire at the coven

conspiracy theory under the cut

since episode 1 this show is about appearances and deception

first with osha being arrested for mae's crimes and the twins being mistaken for one another, then with the stranger posing as innocent and awkward qimir before being revealed as mae's master, and more generally with the power of the jedi and the council being built on lies and them not being as good as they seem

and from the beginning, the show has been telling us that mae is the one that started the fire that burned the coven and killed everyone, but also that the four jedi feel extreme guilt (up to the point of comitting suicide for master torbin) for what happened that night

so as i said, i'm rewatching episode 3 and everything is going well up until osha packs her bag to leave with the jedi and mae confronts her in their room. here's what happens:

mae steals osha's notebook

she runs out of the room and locks the door behind her

she sees the drawing of the lightsaber and the logo of the jedi order

she's angry, and she picks up the lamp from the wall and sets the notebook on fire

then we get a shot of osha running to the window to call her mother, and we hear the sound of the lamp breaking

osha turns around, the fire starts to spread

then we get a shot of the empty corridor with no trace of mae

for now this still seems somewhat logical since mae told osha that she wanted to kill her (and has displayed some signs of cruelty before) but bear with me

osha escapes the room though the vent thing and starts looking for mae

we hear them calling out each other's name until they both stand on the opposite ends of the metal walkway and mae says "jump over to me"

that's what makes me think mae didn't mean what she said when she told her sister that she was going to kill her

but who do we see running around the coven? master sol.

what is he doing here? great question.

did he have the time to go through the forest, climb the mountain and find his way into the building since the fire started? absolutely not.

mae "dies"

sol saves osha

they run next to a bunch of witches who are very much dead but are not burned, have not been crushed by rubble and do not seem asphyxiated by smoke of any kind (since osha and sol are breathing perfectly fine)

SO since we have one jedi running around being suspicious, why not have four?

i think mae set fire to the notebook, but one of the jedi smashed the lamp and set fire to the building while the others killed the witches, probably in order to "save" both twins

but mae "died", and they realised they fucked up big time and set their story straight and pin the fire on the dead kid (who can never corroborate their story since, you know, she's dead)

which would explain the guilt they all seem to feel about that night, and why all the witches seemed to have died on the spot, and qimir's little speech about "galactic dominance in the name of peace which is a lie" from episode 2

one last thing: we don't have a clean shot on torbin's face but he appears in the background when they are back at the ship and even though he's blurry, you can clearly see he has a new wound on his face wich will leave the scar he has in episode 2

thank you for coming to my ted talk

[bildads-shoes]

Spot the difference

(There is no difference)

[canisalbus]

wait ive been reading some of these asks. do machete & vasco have a written out story? or comic? i havent seen any links on your page for something like that (unless I'm looking over em :"D) but I'd love to read/hear more if so!

Hh sorry, they have lots of story stuff planned out but it's all just rattling around in my head, there's no comic, written fiction, lore depository or anything substantial that I could direct you to. I mostly just design characters for my own enjoyment and then put them in little imaginary situations because it's a fun and inspiring thing to do.

[laurasimonsdaughter]

I got a copy of Erdoes and Ortiz's American Indian Myths and Legends (1984) for Christmas and it is fascinating to me how various Native American tales portray romance between humans and non-humans. Especially compared to the European takes on that motif, which usually center on the relationship being doomed from the start, because humans belong only with humans. But this does not seem to be the default in the Native American tales in this collection!

There was one story which did portray the relationship as doomed (Tolowim woman and butterfly man, Maidu) and one where a human woman was taken against her will and gladly rescued by her husband (The stolen wife, Tewa). But there is also a tale where a wife is willingly taken by a great buffalo and when her human husband steals her back and kills White Buffalo Chief, she mourns him so that her jealous husband kills her (Apache chief punishes his wife, Tiwa).

That last tale, while tragic, already goes out of its way to show that the woman was happy with the powerful buffalo, and there are four stories in the collection that make a point of ending in happiness:

The industrious daughter who wouldn't marry (Cochiti)

A beautiful young woman who is a master at making beautiful garments spurns all her human suitors, until it is widely known that she doesn't care for young men. Coyote hears of this and goes to court her, dressed in his finest clothes. He does not offer her any gifts, but he dances very well and he brings a branch of blackcurrants, which are her favourite. She is pleased with him, so she takes him home, sleeps with him, and gives birth to two little coyotes. Her parents are dismayed and the other people turn away from her, but Coyote brings her to his home under the ground. There he has all kinds of clothes just as fine as the ones she makes, and she lives there happily with him ever after.

The Serpent of the Sea (Zuni)

The beautiful daughter of the priest-chief of the village Home of the Eagles cannot abide dust or dirt. Every day she spends almost all her time bathing in the sacred spring of the Serpent of the Sea and this angers him. He changes himself into a beautiful baby boy and she finds him and takes him home to care for him. As soon as she falls asleep the Serpent takes his true form again, coiling himself all around the maiden and all around the room. In the morning the whole household panics, but the girl’s father understands what happened and begs the Serpent to let his daughter return to her family once more, even though she now belongs to him. The Serpent moves enough to release her, finally waking her. She is very frightened, but after four days of ceremonies she bids her family goodbye and goes with the Serpent. As they travel the Serpent takes the shape of a beautiful young man, and speaks in a kinder and kinder voice, until she dares to look at him. Startled she asks him where the terrifying creature has gone. He explains that he is the serpent, but that he loves her, and that if she will consent to come and stay with him they will live and love each other forever in the Waters of the World. The maiden goes with him, forgetting her sadness and forgetting her family, and lived with him ever after.

The man who married the moon (Isleta Pueblo)

The great leader, weaver, and medicine man Nah-chu-rú-chu (the bluish light of dawn) got tired of all the young women trying to win his affection. He proclaimed that he would marry the girl who could grind corn meal so fine that it would stick to his pearl water dipper. The only woman who could do it was the Moon, who was an Isleta maiden before she went to live into the sky. He marries her and loves his moon-wife above all things. Two sisters, the Yellow Corn Maiden, are so jealous that they persuade the moon to admire her reflection in the water of the well, and push her in to drown her. The chief mourns so deeply that it no longer rains and all the crops begin dying, until they bring him a mysterious flower from a mound in the forest where his wife disappeared. He performs a sacred ritual and the moon is brought back to life. The corn maidens are changed into helpful, gentle snakes as punishment, and the moon lives happily with her husband.

The woman who married a merman (Coos)

A girl who refuses all her suitors and goes swimming in the creek every day becomes pregnant without understanding how. She gives birth to a baby that always cries unless it is left outside, where someone brings it seal meat to eat. The young mother watches over her baby and at night is approached by a man who says he is her husband and promises she will be safe if she goes with him. The merman takes his wife and child to the bottom of the sea, where many people lived. Her husband was one of the five sons of the village chief and the couple lived there happy and satisfied. She goes to her relatives once to get arrows for her little boy to play with, and once to visit her brothers. The second time they see her shoulders are turning dark and scaly like those of a sea serpent. She never returned again, but sea serpents came into their harbour, and every summer and winter they would send a whale ashore, a gift to their kinsmen above the sea.

Erdoes and Ortiz even draw a parallel between the tale of the Serpent of the Sea and Beauty and the Beast, but I rather love the girl running off with the Coyote and "the woman who married a merman" is such a lovely counterpoint to the selkie and mermaid stories I grew up with. I'm really happy with this book~

[svtskneecaps]

oh also also, baghera getting increasingly french at the end of the timer was so fucking funny and i love her so much, like when her and phil fought and phil killed her and her accent thickened until she abandoned words and made french noises CHEF'S KISS reminds me of when she played outlast w cellbit slime and jaiden and got progressively more french as the night wore on, genuinely had a blast hearing her progressively dropping more and more swears in french

also reminds me of something i THINK i remember, think it was her who said during brazil she kept accidentally speaking french to people because of how close she felt to them

[solradguy]

Finally overhauled and updated the Japanese resources page on my Neocities. Added a lot of new things and also reorganized it so that it's a little easier for absolute beginners to get into

[the-valiant-valkyrie]

feel like we as a community do not take advantage of the fact that almost all of the characters we have at our disposal are bilingual. there is a world of hijinks we are not accessing

[crimeronan]

On the topic of How Do You Handle XYZ Comment, I've always wondered how you handle terrible responses on your toh takes. Like I know the toh fandom doesn't lack piss on the poor reading comprehension and they also really enjoy wildly out of touch takes, but I've never seen any comments on your princess luz stuff of that nature. I'm sure they must be there but maybe I'm too early? But anyway, how do you tend to deal with the "acktually shipping luz and Hunter is incest" and the "ur not a real lesbian because putting amity in a poly ship is lesbian erasure" and the "as a white person kinda sus you make the poc woman an empress" kind of responses? Ones that are technically not hate and maybe if you squint could be from people who aren't inherently trying to do bad but just lack the maturity needed to engage with the internet at large?

this ask made me giggle. honestly, i haven't received as much pushback as you might expect! way less pushback than i expected. in the princess AU, i've gotten a LOT more "this is actually too grotesque for me to stomach" comments than "this is problematic" comments, which is fine. horror-thriller isn't for everyone, those comments do not upset me.

i have had a Few run-ins with bad faith people, whom i mostly block. there's one prolific commenter in toh tumblr fandom who would repeatedly write angry essays on my humor meta posts -- essays that were all about how belos is too evil to be sympathetic and/or about how hunter is a soft gentle boy who shouldn't be jokingly referred to as evil. then they'd go "i can't help my active and conscious decision to type a bunch of rude fucking words and then my active and conscious decision to send those rude fucking words because i'm autistic :(((" around the fourth or fifth time this happened, i was fucking done with that nonsense and finally blocked them. shoulda done it after the first comment tbh!! no more autism exceptions.

as for the rest of it, my main management strategy is to simply.... preempt the bad faith comments?

i had a LOT more unpleasant and conflict-filled fandom experiences when i was in the raven cycle fandom. that was my first exposure to "you can't ship multi-gender polycules if anyone involved is gay" and "queerplatonic het relationships are just heteronormativity shipping that you're trying to get away with." having dealt with those takes before, i've found a few different ways to disarm bad faith readers before they get started.

first is to be super open and honest about my interests. i talk about what i find compelling in different relationships All The Damn Time. it's really hard for anyone to accuse me of only wanting hunter to fuck amity if they've seen, like.... anything i've said about hunter and amity.

same with hunter and luz. the only negative reactions i've really gotten to how they're written in the princess AU is like.... two people being squicked by camila thinking they're romantically involved. i REALLY expected more pushback on the touchyfeely bed sharing stuff, but from what i remember, there's never been Any....? not even from people who consider them siblings.

i expected a lot of pushback on how mean hunter and amity are to each other, since it's taken So much farther than the canon. but it turns out that there's a very large overlap between people who like dark horror AUs and people who like hunter and amity murdering each other. (in a fluffy fic i don't think this characterization would fly Nearly as easily.)

i find that being funny really disarms people, too. when you look at any of my toh meta posts that could be controversial, they're basically all funny. people are a lot more willing to listen to what you have to say if you make them laugh, and it's harder for them to get angry at you.

and then the last thing is that i think i'm in sort of a privileged position in toh fandom. i've written a lot of controversial subjects and relationships and characterizations.... but i've also written some WILDLY popular mainstream fic. and people who like the mainstream fic don't really want to beef with me about differing niche opinions, bc there's a level of respect there. which they might not have for a writer they don't like.

but anyway. when things Do happen, i almost always just block and move on. there are so many people here who get what i'm talking about that there's no need for me to try to convert people who don't, you know??