#A Candle for the Caribbean

[chunkecheeks]

people swear the tower of terror has no specific smell to it like they think it's just hydraulic fluid but brother as someone who had to sniff sonny eclipse's fumes for multiple hours a day for 8 months and also rode spaceship earth like 5 times a week that is NOT hydraulic fluid smell

i've also heard it claimed that it's mechanical oil but the smell is specifically in the lobby and in the hallway scene so if that's not a pumped in smell idk what it is. it smells like perfumed mustiness it's absolutely delicious but no one has ever recreated this accurately for a candle or anything

[scottishoctopus]

I get that you’re not a ghost, Cap’n.

…But are you technically dead?

"More of ye personal questions, hm? Very well- uh. When Ah carved out that traitorous heart out of mah chest, Ah suppose Ah sort of died as Ah had passed out. When Ah woke up, Maccus informed me that mah heart had ceased beatin' in mah bluddeh hand and he thought Ah had indeed died...but Ah did nae.

Ah believe Calypso's curses had ultimately brought me back in the end- uh." He finishes with bitterness in his voice.

[moonkissedreveries]

🌊 For those on land whose hearts belong to the sea...

🌹 Fragrance Notes:

*If you enjoy fresh & airy floral scents, this candle is for you! Rose & lily are the heart of this fragrance, with a base of woody amber & powder, topped with ozone & sweet mandarin that altogether creates a beautifully sweet floral blend with a clean coastal freshness!

- Top: Ozone, Mandarin

- Middle: Rose, Lily

- Base: Powder, Amber, Honey

🏴‍☠️ Shop now @ moonkissedreveries.etsy.com!

[whaleiumsharkspeare]

This company that makes candles with scents inspired by the Disney parks (Magic Candle Company) has been all over my Instagram and Facebook lately (side note: I’m pretty sure I don’t follow them) advertising their new “pirate life” candle and I’m so tired of seeing it in my feed that I’m about ready to break down and buy the dang pirate candle just to stop seeing it everywhere lol

Edit: upon further research it turns out the pirate life candle is not a new scent, it’s just their bestseller and that’s why it’s the one specifically being advertised to me everywhere I go

[moony-mai]

🌙✨️ @moonkissedreveries creates handmade immersive soy candles inspired by shows, movies, characters and more! ✨️🌙

✨️Collab time! I'm so honored to announce that I am the digital artist behind all of the labels, headers and other art associated with Moonkissed Reveries!

✨️I'll be sharing time-lapses of the art in the future because of course I have to promote my sisters candles that smell so amazing!!

✨️Please check out Moonkissed Reveries and don't forget I also am still offering Autumn art prints in my Etsy!! Happy fall!!🍁🍂

My Socials | Etsy | Comms | Buy me a coffee! | {COMMS OPEN}

[bossymarmalade]

Installation view of Freedom Square: The Black Girlhood Altar at the Chicago Cultural Center

The exhibition at the Chicago Cultural Center opens with the installation “Homegoing.” The work is a suspended image depicting a screenshot from Ma’Khia Bryant’s personal TikTok. In the photo she’s laying her edges, her jet-black hair shining, her baby face clean and free of makeup. Below the printed photo is a collection of candles, stuffed animals, and a bouquet. On April 20, 2021, Ma’Khia was killed by an Ohio police officer in what was later determined a justifiable homicide. She was 16 years old. 

In the gallery titled Rest and Recess: The Courtyard, the exhibition transports the viewer to the Caribbean where Black girls play together unburdened and hopeful. A tree, sculpted by Robert Narciso and made from branches from Rekia Boyd’s family home, sits in the center of the room casting a protective shadow over everything. From its branches hang yellow paper hearts scribed with the hopes and dreams of little Black girls. The sound of their joyful cacophony activates the space.

[ x ]

[mycabinet]

[satorulovebot]

CURSED SEAS CHAPTER ONE | the rouge captain.

↳ satoru gojou x reader

genre. heavy angst, pirate au, 18+ 

tags/warnings. alcohol, religious themes, death, themes of depression, and criminal activity, it's a pretty tame chapter tbh.

notes. 6.2k wc. yeah we’re back baby with another series because i can’t sit still. i saw fan art (image 1) and (image 2) of pirate gojo and said yk what i’m gonna do a pirates of the caribbean inspired series. idk enjoy some brain rot. also know just like my introductory paragraphs my first chapters are ass and fast-paced.

next. HELP WANTED!

general masterlist -> series masterlist

Captain Satoru Gojou.

You had heard whispers of the infamous Captain Gojou for years. His name was spoken with fear in every port town along the coast. Some say he is invincible, that his ship, the Infinity, is the fastest to ever sail the seas. Others claimed he was dangerous, ruthless, and cunning—a man who showed no mercy to those he deemed too weak to survive in his world.

A few years back, a body washed up on the shore of Saltstone Port. The man, who was no older than twenty-five, had his eyes gouged out of his skull, and the number six was carved into the pale skin of his back. 

The discovery shocked the quiet little town, but it would not be the last time a mutilated body washed up on the shores of Saltstone Port.

You don’t miss the stagnant air at Saltstone Port. The salty breeze, tinged with the scent of rotting fish and seaweed, clung to everything it touched. It was a place where tales of Captain Gojou’s cruelty were whispered in darkened alleys and over dimly lit tavern tables, the memory of that unfortunate soul with the number six forever haunting the minds of those who dared to speak of it.

As you stood at the edge of the small dock in Elysport, you stared out at the vast ocean. You had always wondered if there was something more beyond the horizon at Saltsone and Elysport. You had only moved to Elysport in the last few years; your father claimed that it was God’s will for you to move after the death of your beloved mother.

You were just ten years old when your mother vanished without a trace, disappearing one night after her shift at the tavern. It was as if the earth had swallowed her whole, leaving no sign of where she had gone or what might have happened. The days that followed were a blur of confusion and fear, the house feeling emptier than ever without her warm presence.

Your father was a broken man during the weeks your mother was missing. Each night, he would fall to his knees, clasping his hands in desperate prayer. His voice, once strong and filled with faith, now trembled as he pleaded with whatever higher power might be listening to bring his beloved wife back to him and his young daughter. He prayed until his voice was hoarse, until tears stained his cheeks until the candles had burned down to their wicks. He sought solace in his faith, but with each passing day, the weight of uncertainty grew heavier, casting a shadow over your home.

He searched tirelessly for answers, combing the streets and questioning anyone who might have seen her. But no matter how hard he looked or how many prayers he whispered, the silence was deafening. Your mother, the heart of your small family, had simply vanished, leaving behind only questions and a growing sense of dread.

Nine agonizing weeks later, your mother’s body was discovered in a small, rotting, long-abandoned boat that had been stranded on the beach for years. You only caught a brief, heart-wrenching glimpse of her before the smallfolk, who had loved her dearly, carried her away. The once beautiful features of her face had decayed beyond recognition, maggots crawling across what little flesh remained.

Your father was utterly broken by the loss. He couldn’t understand why God would allow such cruelty to befall his family. The woman he had vowed to cherish and grow old with was gone, leaving him consumed by grief and bitterness. He became distant, his once-steady faith shaken to its core. He could not understand who would do this to his wife—a kind-hearted tavern worker known for offering a warm meal to anyone in need. The only conclusion that made sense to him was that pirates were to blame. In his mind, they were the only people capable of such barbarism, convinced that only they would commit such a gruesome act against the mother of his child.

Your father has always been a devout Christian. He was a pastor at the local church when you lived in Saltstone Port. His sermons were filled with messages of mercy and compassion. He always insisted that no one was beyond salvation, preaching that even pirates can be redeemed in the eyes of God.

But after your mother’s death, everything changed. His grief and anger warped his perspective, changing his view of life and love. The man who once preached forgiveness now called for the public execution of pirates, believing their crimes deserved the worst punishment hell could offer. An obsession now consumed him—a kind man who once spoke of compassion whose life was forever darkened by the loss of the woman he loved.

You now found yourself in Elysport, a bustling coastal city where the line between law and lawlessness begins to blur. The city's horizon is filled with the estates of wealthy merchants and the Governor’s home, a stark contrast to the docks below. The docks are always crowded, constantly filled with ships from all around the world, their sails billowing in the wind as they unload goods from distant lands. The scent of exotic spices and the sounds of vibrant marketplaces fill the air, mingling with the salty tang of the nearby sea.

In Elysport, you worked as a clerk for a small merchant. Your days were spent tallying registries, managing shipments, and handling mundane trade details. But your nights were different. They were filled with dreams of adventure, of sailing beyond the horizon where the sea meets the sky. Stories of legendary pirates and hidden treasures had always fascinated you, sparking a curiosity you kept hidden behind your daily life. Yet, you never imagined that those stories might come crashing into your own life one day.

One evening, as you were closing up shop, an old man stumbled into the store. His appearance was startling, to say the least—his clothes were tattered, his face weathered, and his hair a tangled mess. 

“Hello? Can I help you?” you called out from behind the counter, your voice slightly muffled by the shelves that obstructed you from view.

The man didn’t answer your question. Instead, his gaze darted around the shop, as if he was searching for anything suspicious that could get him in trouble. 

“You there!” he rasped, his voice rough. “I need a place to hide this.”

Your curiosity piqued at his words, you stepped out from behind the counter and faced the strange man who had entered just before closing. You assumed he was another last-minute customer, probably looking to buy something or bargain for a better price, knowing how tired workers down by the docks could be at this hour. 

You were curious but hesitant as you took the box from him. To your surprise, It was heavy for its size. The surface was adorned with intricate carvings, worn in places over time.

“What is this?” you asked, turning the box over to examine it more closely. The craftsmanship was remarkable, but there was something about it—something almost sinister.

The man watched you closely, his eyes never leaving your face. "It’s a map.” he said, "But not just any map. This map leads to something... powerful. Something that has been lost for centuries, tales of it told through generations of pirates, hidden away from those who would abuse its power."

You looked up at him, eyes wide and filled with curiosity. Why are you giving this to me?" you asked again, your voice trembling.

The man’s expression softened, a look of something almost like pity crossing his face. "Because you’re the one meant to find it," he said simply. "You’re the one who has been chosen."

"Chosen?" you whispered. "Chosen by whom? For what?"

The man smiled faintly, but there was a sadness in his eyes that made you uneasy. "You’ll understand in time," he said. "But know this: you must keep the map safe. Others would do anything to get their hands on it—dangerous people who won’t hesitate to kill for it."

Your breath caught in your throat at his words. You had always dreamed of sailing the seas looking for adeventure, but this... this… this was something else entirely. This was real, and it was dangerous.

You stared at him blankly, your mind racing as you tried to process the words the strange man had been saying. This was no ordinary treasure map. This was something that was hidden away for a reason.

"Why me?" you asked, your voice trembling. "Why would you trust me with something like this?"

The man’s eyes softened again, and he reached out to place a hand on your shoulder. "Because you’re different," he said quietly. "You have a strength in you that others don’t. You have a heart that won’t be easily swayed by greed or power. And most importantly... you have a destiny to fulfill."

His words hung in the air, heavy with meaning that you couldn’t fully grasp. You wanted to ask the strange man more, to demand answers to the questions swirling in your mind, but something in the man’s eyes told you that he had already said all he could.

"Keep the map safe," he repeated, his voice firm. "And trust your instincts."

Before you could say anything else, the man turned and walked out the door, disappearing into the darkness of the night. You stood there for a pregnant moment, the map clutched in your hands, your mind reeling from everything that had just happened.

You looked down at the map again, the tips of your fingers trace the markings, as if trying to unlock the secrets they hold. This was it. This was what you had always dreamed of, but it was also something far more dangerous, something that could get you killed.

You knew you couldn’t do this alone. You needed help, and there was only one place you could think of where you might find it.

The merchant’s ball.

It was an event you had never been invited to before—a grand affair where the city’s most powerful and influential figures gathered. But now, with the map, you knew you had to find a way in. You needed to find someone who could help you decipher it, someone who had the knowledge and connections to help you.

As the night of the ball approached, you found yourself growing more and more restless with each passing day. The very idea of the map’s existence gnawed at the back of your mind, its mysteries out of reach. The old man’s warning lingered in your mind, too—a treasure beyond your wildest dreams, but cursed. It was a puzzle you couldn’t solve on your own, and it only fueled your determination to get an invitation to the Merchant’s Ball.

But getting an invitation was easier said than done. The ball was exclusive, and the guest list was closely guarded. You knew you couldn’t simply walk in off the street, no matter how determined you were. You needed connections, and though you had some, they were weak connections at best. Your mind raced as you considered your options, running through the names of merchants and traders you had helped over the years. Some owed you favors, but whether those favors were enough to get you into the ball was another matter entirely.

You decided to start with a merchant you knew well—a grizzly man named Marcus, who had been in Elysport for decades. You had helped him with his inventory more than once, making sure that certain shipments went unnoticed by the authorities, and he had always been grateful for your help. You found him in his usual place, a small tavern near the docks.

“Marcus!” you greeted him with a smile as you approached his table.

He looked up, his weathered face breaking into a grin. “Ah, it’s you. Come to save me from my spending again?”

“Not this time,” you replied, taking a seat across from him. “I need a favor.”

His smile faded slightly, and he set down his flagon of ale. “A favor, eh? What kind of favor?”

You hesitated, choosing your words carefully. “I need an invitation to the Merchant’s Ball.”

Marcus leaned back in his chair, his eyebrows raised. “The ball? That’s a big favor, lass. Those invitations are hard to come by.”

“I know,” you admitted. “But I wouldn’t ask if it wasn’t important.”

He studied you for a moment, his eyes searching your face. “What’s this about? You’re not one for fancy parties.”

You looked around the tavern, ensuring no one was listening, then leaned in closer. “I’ve come across something… valuable. But I need help deciphering it. The ball is my best chance to find someone who can.”

Marcus’s expression turned serious. “Something valuable, you say? What kind of valuable?”

“I can’t say too much,” you said, lowering your voice. “But it’s big, Marcus. If I can figure it out, it could change everything.”

He was silent for a moment, considering your words. Finally, he nodded. “All right. I can get you in. But you’ll owe me for this, understand?”

You nodded, a smile present on your face. “Thank you, Marcus. I won’t forget it.”

True to his word, Marcus got you an invitation, and the day of the ball soon arrived. You spent hours preparing, trying to calm the nervous flutter in your stomach. The dress you chose was simple yet elegant, a deep blue silk that flowed like water as you moved. You had never worn anything so fine before, and as you looked at yourself in the mirror, you barely recognized the woman staring back at you. But tonight wasn’t about appearances—it was about seizing an opportunity, about finding answers to the questions that had been plaguing your mind since that fateful night in the shop.

When the carriage finally arrived to take you to the Governor’s Palace, you felt a mixture of excitement and fear. The city seemed more alive than usual as you made your way through the cobblestone streets, the sounds of laughter and music drifting on the night air. As the palace came into view, its tall columns were bathed in the warm glow of hundreds of lanterns. The grandeur of it all was overwhelming and it was a far cry from the rough and weathered streets of Elysport that you were used to.

You clutched your invitation tight as you approached the entrance, the doorman barely glancing at it before stepping aside to let you pass. The moment you stepped inside, you were encompassed in a world of luxury, unlike anything you had ever seen. The foyer was vast with marble floors gleaming under the light of large crystal chandeliers. Ornate tapestries adorned the walls, depicting scenes of grand battles and lavish feasts. Servants moved about with precision, carrying trays of champagne and delicate hors d'oeuvres, while the guests—dressed in their finest silks and satins—murmuring amongst themselves, their laughter filling the air.

You followed the flow of people into the main ballroom, your heart pounding as you took in the sight before you. The room was massive, with tall, arched windows that offered a view of the moonlit gardens outside. The walls were painted in rich, warm tones, and the floor was a mosaic of polished marble that reflected the golden light of the chandeliers. Musicians played soft melodies in one corner, their music blending in seamlessly with the murmur of conversation.

For a moment, you hesitated, feeling out of place. You had never been in a setting like this, surrounded by wealth and power. But you squared your shoulders, reminding yourself of the reason you were here. You weren’t just a simple clerk from the docks anymore; tonight, you were a woman with a purpose, a secret map, and a mission.

The ballroom was extravagant, to say the least. It made you feel sick that only a select few could enjoy things like this without worrying when their next meal would be or if they would be able to afford basic necessities. But were you any better than these people? After all the only reason you’re here is because you have good connections, just like the people in this room.

As you look to your left, you notice the couples dancing around the floor, their conversations blending in with the soft music. It was all very odd, like a dream you didn't want to wake up from.

“Enjoying the festivities?” A smooth and confident voice interrupted your thoughts. You turned to see a tall figure standing just a few feet away, his face obscured by a mask similar to yours.

You felt a shiver run down your spine, though you couldn’t quite figure out why. There was something about him, something unsettling in the way he carried himself, in the way he seemed to command the space around him. His mask was pale, almost ghostly, with intricate blue patterns that drew your gaze.

“I suppose,” you replied, keeping your voice light, though the unease you felt was seeping into your words. “These sorts of events are always a bit... overwhelming.”

He chuckled softly, the sound rich and smooth, “Yes, they can be,” he agreed, taking a step closer, his eyes—bright and unnervingly blue—locked onto yours through the slits in his mask. “But they can also be... enlightening if you know where to look.”

You felt your heart skip a beat, your mind racing as you tried to understand his words. Was he just making conversation, or was there something more to his statement? You couldn’t tell, and that made you more on edge.

“Is that so?” you asked, forcing a smile as you took another sip of your champagne, trying to calm your nerves.

He nodded, his gaze never wavering. “Indeed. You’d be surprised what you can learn at a gathering like this, especially if you keep your eyes and ears open.”

There was something in the tone of his voice, something that made you think he wasn’t just talking about useless gossip or civil conversation, at something deeper, something more dangerous, and it set you on edge.

The two of you sat in silence for a brief moment.

“Do you come to these kinds of events often?” you asked, trying to change the topic of conversation, though you couldn’t shake the feeling that this man was anything but safe.

“From time to time,” he said with a shrug. “But tonight is special. Tonight, I’m here for something—someone—quite specific.”

Your breath caught in your throat and you felt a chill run down your spine. It was the way he said it, the way his eyes seemed to pierce through you like daggers, it was as if he knew exactly who you were and what you were here for.

But, that was impossible, you thought to yourself. You were just a clerk, a regular person caught up in something far beyond your understanding. There was no way he could know about the map, about the treasure. No one knew. No one except—

“Do I know you?” you asked, the question slipping out of your mouth before you could stop yourself.

His smile widened, though it didn’t reach his eyes. “Perhaps,” he said vaguely, his voice a low murmur that sent another shiver down your spine. “Or perhaps you’ll get to know me soon enough.”

Before you could respond, before you could even process his words, the doors to the ballroom burst open with a deafening boom. The music stopped abruptly, the room falling into shocked silence as everyone turned to see what happened.

A group of masked men stormed into the room, their swords drawn as they advanced on the crowd. Panic erupted, the guests screaming and scrambling to get away as the intruders began tearing through the ballroom, overturning tables, smashing glass, and sending the wealthy world of the Elysport elite into chaos.

You barely had time to react before you felt the man’s hand on your arm, pulling you toward the nearest exit. His grip was firm, his expression unreadable beneath the mask as he guided you through the panicked crowd, dodging the chaos that surrounded you.

“Stay close,” he ordered, his voice calm despite the madness. “We’re not done yet.”

And with that, you were swept away into the night, the sound of the destruction behind you fading as the mysterious man led you away from the scene, leaving you to wonder who he really was—and what he wanted with you.

The cool night air hit your face as you were pulled out of the grand ballroom and into the dimly lit streets of Elysport. The contrast between the noise and chaos of the ball and the quiet moonlit streets was jarring. You were still reeling from the events that had unfolded, your heart pounding in your chest, and your mind racing with questions.

The man holding your hand was strong, his grip firm but not painful, leading you through the labyrinth of narrow alleyways that twisted and turned through the dark city like a maze. The commotion of the party faded into the background, replaced by the distant sounds of the sea and the occasional creak of a ship down at the docks. The city was alive with the whispers of its nightlife, but you felt completely alone, alone with this stranger who seemed to know everything about you.

Finally, after what felt like an eternity, he slowed his pace and came to a stop in a small and secluded courtyard. The stone walls of the surrounding buildings loom above you and the walls cast deep shadows that obscured your surroundings. The man released your hand, leaving you standing in the center of the courtyard.

As you took a moment to catch your breath, thoughts reeled through your mind. Who was this man? What did he want with you? And why had he chosen to rescue you from the ball? You looked around, trying to get a sense of where you were, but the courtyard was unfamiliar, and the darkness made it almost impossible to see anything.

Before you could gather your thoughts, the man stepped forward again, more calculated and more predatory. His movements were fluid as if he were completely at ease in the darkness. He reached up, and with a swift motion, removed the mask that had concealed his face.

You gasped, taking a step back as the light of the moon revealed his features. The man standing before you was impossibly handsome, his striking blue eyes piercing through the shadows with an intensity that made your heart skip a beat. His white hair, which had been partially hidden beneath the mask, now fell loosely around his face, giving him an almost ethereal appearance. But it was the look in his eyes that truly unsettled you—as if he could see right through you.

"You're a difficult person to track down," he said, his voice smooth and confident, with a hint of amusement.

You took another step back, your mind racing. "Who are you?" you demanded, trying to keep your voice steady.

He tilted his head slightly, a small, almost playful smirk tugging at the corners of his lips. "Who I am isn't important," he replied his tone light, almost amused. "What matters is what I know."

A chill ran down your spine at his words. You felt like a cornered animal, trapped with no way out. "W-what do you want from me?" you stuttered, trying to keep the fear out of your voice.

His smile widened slightly, but his eyes remained cold and calculating. "You know what I want," he said softly, his voice barely above a whisper. "You have something that belongs to me."

Your heart skipped a beat, and your thoughts immediately jumped to the map. How did he know about that? The old man had warned you that it was cursed, that it would bring you nothing but trouble, but you didn't think it would be anything like this.

The man's smile faded, and his expression grew more serious. He took a step closer, his eyes narrowing slightly as he studied you. "Don't play games with me," he warned, his voice low and dangerous. "I know you have the map. And I know you've been looking into it."

"I don't have it," you insisted. "I got rid of it."

The man raised an eyebrow, clearly not believing you. "Is that so?" he took a step forward, "Because from what I've heard, you've been asking around about certain landmarks. Places that just so happen to match the ones on the map."

Your heart sank. He knew too much. There was no point in lying anymore. But you couldn't just hand the map over to him—not without knowing who he was and what he planned to do with it.

"Why do you want it?" you asked, trying to buy yourself some time. "What's so important about this treasure?"

The man studied you for a moment, his expression unreadable. "That's none of your concern," he said finally, his tone dismissive. "All you need to know is that it's mine. And I intend to get it back."

"And if I don't give it to you?" you challenged.

He smiled again, but this time there was no warmth in it. "Then I'll take it from you," he said as if it were the most natural thing in the world.

You stared at him, trying to gauge his intentions. There was something about him—something dangerous and unpredictable—that made you believe he wasn't bluffing. But at the same time, you couldn't just give up the map. Not without knowing what it was all about, and what it could lead to.

"I need more time," you said finally, hoping to stall him. "Let me think about it."

The man studied you for a moment, his expression unreadable. Then, to your surprise, he nodded. "Very well," he said. "But don't take too long. I'm not a patient man."

He turned to leave, but then paused mid-way, glancing back at you over his shoulder. "Oh, and one more thing," he added, his voice dropping to a low murmur. "Don't try to run. I'll find you. No matter where you go."

With that, he disappeared into the shadows, leaving you alone in the courtyard. You stood there for a moment, your heart pounding in your chest, trying to make sense of what had just happened. Who was this man? How did he know so much about you? And what was he planning to do with the map?

You knew you had to be careful. Whatever this treasure was, it was clearly important enough for someone like him to go to great lengths to get it. But at the same time, you couldn't just hand it over without knowing more. You had to find out what this was about—before it was too late.

You quickly made your way back to your small house, your mind racing with thoughts of what to do next. You weren't going to let anyone intimidate you—not even someone as dangerous as him.

As you reached your door, you paused, glancing around nervously. The man's warning echoed in your mind—he would find you, no matter where you went. But you couldn't let that stop you. You had to find out the truth, no matter the cost.

With a deep breath, you unlocked the door and stepped inside. The map was hidden in a small, secret compartment in the floorboards—a place you thought no one would think to look. You retrieved it, carefully unfolding the worn parchment and studying the markings on it.

You had to figure out what this map was leading to, and why it was so important. As you stared at the map, a new plan began to form in your mind. You would find someone new who could help you decipher it—someone who knew the legends of the sea better than anyone else. And then, you would find the treasure before anyone else could.

But even as you made your plans, you couldn't shake the feeling that you were being watched. The man's piercing blue eyes seemed to haunt your every thought, his warning lingering in the back of your mind.

You knew you were playing a dangerous game. But you had no choice.

And so, with the map clutched tightly in your hands, you made your decision. You would find the treasure—no matter what it took.

The city was bustling when you stepped out onto the streets, the late afternoon sun cast long shadows across the cobblestone road. You knew where you needed to go—there was a tavern on the edge of the city, where sailors and pirates would gather to share stories. It was a risky move, venturing into such a place, but you were running out of options.

As you made your way through the streets, you kept an eye out for any sign of the man from the night before. You couldn’t afford to be caught off guard again.

Finally, you reached the tavern, it was a weathered building with a creaky old sign hanging above the door. The scent of salt and ale greeted you as you stepped inside, the dimly lit interior filled with the low hum of conversation. You spotted a few rough-looking sailors at the bar, their eyes looking toward you with curiosity as you made your way to a secluded corner.

You ordered a drink as you tried to blend in, waiting for the right moment. You needed to be careful about who you approached—trust was a rare occurrence in a place like this.

As the minutes ticked by, you watched the patrons of the tavern by studying their movements and listening to parts of their conversations. You were looking for someone who seemed knowledgeable, someone who might have heard of the map or the treasure it led to.

Finally, your patience was rewarded. An old sailor whose face had been weathered by years at sea, sat down at the table next to yours. He wore a tattered grey coat and a wide-brimmed hat. He seemed like the kind of man who had seen his fair share of the world, the kind of man who might know more than he let on.

You took a deep breath, gathering your courage, and leaned toward him. "Excuse me," you said quietly, your voice steady. "I was wondering if you might be able to help me with something."

The sailor turned to look at you, his eyes narrowing slightly as he studied you. "Depends on what you’re asking.”

You hesitated for a moment, unsure of how much to reveal to the man before you. But you had to take a chance. "I’m looking for information about a map," choosing your words with care. "A map that leads to a treasure. But I don’t know where to start."

The sailor’s eyes flickered with a hint of interest, a faint smirk tugging at the corners of his lips. "A treasure map, you say?" he repeated, leaning back in his chair. "Well, now, that’s a dangerous thing to be looking for, especially in a place like this."

You nodded, your heart pounding in your chest. "I know it’s risky," you admitted. "But I need to find out what this map leads to. And I was hoping you might know something about it."

The sailor stroked his chin thoughtfully, his eyes never leaving yours. "There’s a lot of talk about treasures and maps in these parts," he said slowly. "Most of it’s just nonsense, stories made up to entertain drunk sailors. But every now and then, you hear about something real—something worth risking your life for."

He leaned in closer, his voice dropping to a whisper. "If you’ve got a map, and it’s real, you’d better be careful who you share it with. There are people out there who would do anything to get their hands on a treasure like that."

You swallowed hard with the weight of his words sinking in. "I understand," you said quietly. "That’s why I’m being careful. But I need to know more about what I’m dealing with."

The sailor nodded slowly, his gaze thoughtful. "Alright," he said finally. "I’ll tell you what I know. But it won’t come cheap."

You reached into your pocket, pulling out a small pouch of coins. It wasn’t much, but it was all you had. "Will this be enough?" you asked, hoping it would suffice.

The sailor took the pouch, weighing it in his hand before nodding in approval. "It’ll do," he said, tucking the pouch into his coat. "Now, let me see that map of yours."

You hesitated for a moment before reaching into your bag and pulling out the map. You unfolded it carefully, laying it out on the table between you. The sailor leaned over, his eyes scanning the markings and symbols.

After a few moments, he let out a low whistle. "Well, I’ll be damned," he muttered, more to himself than to you. "This is the real deal."

You leaned forward eagerly, your heart racing. "What does it say?"

The sailor glanced up at you, his expression serious. "This map," he said slowly, "leads to a place that’s been whispered about for generations. A place where a great pirate captain supposedly buried his most valuable treasures. But it’s not just gold and jewels we’re talking about. There are stories of powerful artifacts."

"But it’s not going to be easy," the sailor continued. "The path to that treasure is full of danger. There are traps, curses, and worse things that guard it. And if you’re not careful, you’ll end up just like the others who’ve tried and failed to find it."

You felt a chill run down your spine at his words. "What do you mean, 'the others'?" your voice barely above a whisper.

The sailor’s expression darkened. "There have been others before you," he said quietly. "People who thought they could outsmart the dangers and claim the treasure for themselves. But none of them ever made it back. Their ships were found wrecked, their crews dead or missing. And those who survived were driven mad by what they found."

You swallowed hard, the gravity of the situation sinking in. "So, what do I do?" you asked, your voice trembling slightly.

The sailor looked at you for a long moment before speaking. "If you’re serious about this, you’ll need to prepare yourself," he said. "Find a crew you can trust, people who know how to handle themselves in a fight. And most importantly, keep that map close. There are others who would kill to get their hands on it."

You nodded, "I’ll do whatever it takes."

The sailor nodded, a faint smile playing at the corners of his lips. "You’ve got spirit, I’ll give you that," he said. "Just be careful. This world is full of dangers, and not all of them are as obvious as a pirate’s blade."

With that, he stood up, tipping his hat to you before turning to leave. "Good luck, lass," he said over his shoulder. "You’re going to need it."

You watched him go, your mind racing with everything he had told you. The treasure was real, and it was more dangerous than you could have ever imagined. But you were determined to find it, no matter what it took.

You took the map and carefully folded it and tucked it back into your bag. With a deep breath, you stood up and left the tavern, your heart pounding in your chest. You had a lot of work to do, and there was no time to waste.

As you walked back through the city streets, the weight of the map seemed heavier than ever. You knew you were about to embark on a journey that would change your life forever, one that would test your courage, your resolve, and your very soul.

But despite the fear that lingered in the back of your mind, there was also a sense of excitement—a thrill at the thought of uncovering something that had been hidden away for centuries that not even the best pirates could find.

You had the map and you had the determination, now all you needed was the right people. And once you had that, there would be nothing stopping you from finding the treasure and claiming it for yourself.

The night was still young as you made your way back to your small home. You were ready to face whatever challenges came your way, to risk everything for the chance to uncover the secrets of the map.

And as you reached your door, the words of the mysterious man from the ball echoed in your mind: "I’ll find you, no matter where you go."

You knew he was out there, watching, waiting for the right moment to strike. But you weren’t afraid. You were ready for whatever came next.

series masterlist -> chapter 2

[kookies2000]

Because I feel like it.

Yellow sky? Bare footed characters? Mostly a mess? Over exaggerating some of the Hispanic features. I saw the first episode, and it was just poorly written in general. And what mother calls their son "cochinada." Roughly translates to dirty or trash.

What's good Latino/Hispanic representation?

Colombian 🇨🇴

In the Caribbean region of Colombia, they light up candles and lanterns on December 8, before sunrise. So the candle giving them magic was a wonderful detail. Generational trauma is a thing for us Latinos, and this film handled it in a healthy and matuer manner. And I love how they didn't shy away with how Spaniards attacked and colonized latin lands.

Mexicans 🇲🇽

Yes, us Mexicans love death. 🤣 But hey, I was always taught to respect death, La Muerte, and our ancestors. So, it makes sense that many Mexican films talk about death. But I also like that Maya and the Three have Aztec, Mayan, and Incan mythology. Natives to Mexico.

Dominican Puerto Rican 🇩🇴🇵🇷

Luz mom is Dominican, and Luz dad is Puerto Rican. I appreciate a good interracial couple and a mixed child. Luz name also translates to light, and some Latinos are known for doing witch craft. Or at least knowledgeable about witches and demons, and no, we aren't evil. We just know how to handle this stuff. Plus, the owl has many meanings in Latino culture. To some, I believe the owl is a messenger of death and is telling everyone that death/danger is near.

Afro Latino. Puerto Rican 🇵🇷

I am a massive sucker for interracial couples and mixed kids because of this. I was working at a hispanic store as a cashier. This woman walks past me and starts talking to the bagger. The bagger has blond hair, blue eyes, and white skin. The bagger looks at me worried because she doesn't speak English. So brown skin, black hair, me has to tell the bagger that the lady wanted ice in Spanish. I then talked to the lady in English. Her reaction? "YOU SPEAK ENGLISH!" Same for a dark skinned man. So many people skip me and talk to him in English. He's Dominican, and he only spoke Spanish. I appreciate films that show Latinos in different skin types and features. We're not all brown. So yeah, the mass diversity in this film is just beautiful. And I love how they wrote Miles relationship with his parents. Realistic conflict and healthy communication. Not falling into toxic stereotypes.

Spainard Puss 🇪🇸 Mexican Kitty & Perrito 🇲🇽

Spaniards are considered Hispanic but not Latinos like Mexicans. And again, interracial couples for the win. And I love the realism in their romance that heals through healthy therapy. Many people see Mexicans as toxic, so having Perrito as a therapist and the one helping everyone emotionally, it's nice. Not every Mexican is toxic. And I love how you can tell their Spanish and Mexican even though their animals. Puss Spanish accent, Spanish actor, him being a ginger like some Spaniards, flamingo dancing, and gazpacho. Kitty, Mexican accent, Mexican actress, black fur/hair like most Mexicans, quinceañera, and I love how they gave her a luchador mask. Something that originates from Mexico. Also, my brother and I joke how we as Mexiacns can't swim and Kitty nearky drowns in the 1st film. 🤣 Perrito, he's a chihuahua with a Mexican actor. Enough said. I also want to say death is Brazilian because of his actor.

I don't know much about Spanish culture, but someone said the wishing star has a connection to Spanish culture. Is that true? If so, COOL! Because death is connected to Mexican culture. So, Dreamworks finding a way to combine Spanish and Mexican culture in one film is 100% magical.

There are many more, like Beverly Hills Chihuahua 🇲🇽. 🤣 That film is better than Primos. Emperor's New Groove, Peru 🇵🇪, and Rio, Brazil 🇧🇷. Not Hispanic but Latino culture. But this post is getting long. Primos! A huge step down in Latino/Hispanic representation. Especially since we have so many good films and shows that have proper representation.

[discordsmuse]

Discordsmuse Masterlist

❀•°❀°•❀

Hello friends! Finally putting together a masterlist to make it easier for you guys to find all my fanfics here since I only post to AO3!

These will be organized by fandom and character.

❀•°❀°•❀

Baldur's Gate 3

Halsin

dance me to the end of love, NSFW/18+: Fem!Tav and Halsin admit to their feelings post-Moonrise and fuck on a balcony.

Silence, NSFW/18+ : Fem!Tav and Halsin fuck in a closet

Do Unto Others, NSFW/18+ : Fem!Tav wants to give Halsin some attention and convinces him to let her be the giver for once.

Enver Gortash

body more than just a flesh, you can sell it for success, NSFW/18+: Fem!Tav is invited to dinner with the Archduke and things get a little heated.

i will give you all that you need, NSFW/18+: Sequel to the above, Fem!Tav and Gortash bathe together before Enver gets a little handsy.

gracious men are those who suffer, NSFW/18+: Fem!Tav and Enver w/ a free use kink.

legacy with no memory, NSFW/18+: Fem!Durge and Enver Gortash w/a pregnancy kink

I wanna know my god, At least enough to fear Her, NSFW/18+: Fem!Durge and Gortash have a lil bit of hate sex

Gale Dekarios

be my nightfire, NSFW/18+: Fem!Tav catches Gale mid-alone time. Feelings and sex ensue.

Abdirak

sanctify you bedsheets with the sweat along your hips, NSFW/18+: Fem!Tav is fascinated by Abdirak and nervously asks him to teach her about Loviatar.

Raphael

delightful little detour, NSFW/18+: Canon rewrite for what happens when Fem!Tav tells Raphael he's bad at sex.

Let the Dream Begin, NSFW/18+: Fem!Tav/Raphael Phantom of the Opera AU, slowburn

Office Hours, NSFW/18+: Fem!Tav/Raphael College AU

she keeps the candle burning, NSFW/18+: Fem!Tav/Raphael post-game

Haarlep

Ask prompt, Haarlep/Fem!Tav when Haarlep shows up at camp.

Rolan

i wanna have a home, i wanna share it, NSFW/18+: Fem!Tav and Rolan get together post-saving the tieflings from moonrise.

❀•°❀°•❀

Pirates of the Caribbean

Hector Barbossa

The Pirate Lord, NSFW/18+: Barbossa/Reader post-Elizabeth being kinged.

All That Glitters, NSFW/18+: Longform Barbossa/Reader canon rewrite pre-CotBP

Liar's Bet, NSFW/18+: Longform Barbossa/Reader canon rewrite during CotBP and DMC

feel the edges start to burn, NSFW/18+: Barbossa/Reader where reader is friends w/Carina

❀•°❀°•❀

Harry Potter

Severus Snape

isn't it lovely (all alone), NSFW/18+: Snape/Reader closet sex

no death in rebirth, NSFW/18+: Snape/Reader longform amnesia oneshot

Brought to Life, NSFW/18+: Snape/Reader marauder's era classmates to lovers lol

❀•°❀°•❀

Dead by Daylight

Canon/Canon

Contention, NSFW/18+: Ace/Meg against a tree hatesex

Breaking Point, NSFW/18+: Megmillan first time

It's Alright, Teen/16+: The survivors and killers recover post-entity

Anna/The Huntress

Not so much taming as growing accustomed, Mature/16+, Huntress/Reader friendship to lovers

Herman Carter/The Doctor

Untethered, NSFW/18+, The Doctor/Reader where reader annoying him but in the fun, bratty way

❀•°❀°•❀

Resident Evil Village

Karl Heisenberg

Business Partners with Benefits, NSFW/18+: Heisenberg/Reader where reader is Moreau's niece

❀•°❀°•❀

Spider Man

Dr. Otto Octavius/Doc Ock

Working Overtime, NSFW/18+: Otto/Reader where reader is his lab assistant

Bedside Manner, NSFW/18+: Otto/Reader where reader is Doc Ock's lover

❀•°❀°•❀

Labyrinth

Jareth the Goblin King

Midsummer, NSFW/18+: Jareth/Reader at the midsummer fae ball

don't leave me lonely, NSFW/18+: Jareth/Reader sequel to Midsummer

❀•°❀°•❀

The band Ghost

Papa Emeritus IV/Cardinal Copia

Better Than, NSFW/18+: Copia/Reader where he's a little insecure about Terzo being better than him

❀•°❀°•❀

Dracula

Dracula (lol)

Nice Costume, NSFW/18+: Dracula/Reader in a modern setting at a party

❀•°❀°•❀

Our Flag Means Death

Israel Hands

we do get desperate, now and again, Mature/16+: Fem!Reader/Izzy hurt/comfort unrequited love.

i wanna be yours, Mature/18+: Fem!Reader/Izzy first time together

❀•°❀°•❀

The Quarry (2022)

Travis Hackett/Laura Kearney

❀•°❀°•❀

• fell in love with the fever, Explicit/18+: Travis and Laura are forced to spend some time together 6 months after the incident.

• perspiration and alcohol, Explicit/18+: Travis and Laura meet again and become gym buddies. Laura pushes the line as per.

This list will grow/change as I write more :D Thanks for reading!

[gojoslittybunny]

↳ ❝ 𝐎𝐍 𝐌𝐘 𝐌𝐀𝐌𝐀, 𝐎𝐍 𝐌𝐘 𝐇𝐎𝐎𝐃 | 𝖲. 𝖦𝖤𝖳𝖮. ❞

↳ 𝐁𝐄𝐈𝐍𝐆 𝐈𝐍 𝐀 𝐑𝐄𝐋𝐀𝐓𝐈𝐎𝐍𝐒𝐇𝐈𝐏 with suguru geto consisted of many things. from late night skin care routines to bubbles baths with rose petals and a vanilla candle burning, he will definitely feel tranquility. a sense of comfort being wrapped around his soul knowing you’re happy. and if he’s feeling himself, he will play a bit of music to set the mood whilst also admiring your beauty. 🙈

↳ 𝐁𝐎𝐘𝐅𝐑𝐈𝐄𝐍𝐃! 𝐆𝐄𝐓𝐎𝐔 definitely listens to kendrick lamar , tupac, bruno mars, biggie, michael jackson, & j.cole. his favourite songs being dna, loyalty, and love by kendrick. he also loves afrobeats, reggaeton, dancehall, and soca music <3. especially if you’re of afro/hispanic/caribbean descent, he’s so down bad and is willing to learn anything & everything about your culture.

↳ 𝐁𝐎𝐘𝐅𝐑𝐈𝐄𝐍𝐃! 𝐆𝐄𝐓𝐎𝐔 will take you on so many trips around the city and exploring new places, and eating at different food venues. he will also help you by translating the signs but at the same loves watching you stumble over your words when you try ordering what you desire to purchase.

↳ 𝐁𝐎𝐘𝐅𝐑𝐈𝐄𝐍𝐃! 𝐆𝐄𝐓𝐎𝐔 is a sucker for spoiling you, so expect him to buy you lots of trinkets <3 and constantly takes tons of selfies. most of them consists of you. like i’m talking about the unexpected / embarrassing ones. oh you got ice cream on your nose? cake in your hair? mans be like "hold on, lemme just *camera clicks*" 🙈

↳ 𝐁𝐎𝐘𝐅𝐑𝐈𝐄𝐍𝐃! 𝐆𝐄𝐓𝐎𝐔 is such a goofball but he also very sweet and nurturing. please give him hugs and kisses. maybe even a bit of praise, he loves you so much. more bonus points because nanako and mimiko love you so much. oh yeah, su is definitely going to marry you. but don’t tell him i told you, issa secret. 🥹🫶🏾

[violetthekiller]

I know they won’t tell but I want to know if they got engaged on caribbean or not so badly

what do you mean? we know that Tom organised a private meal on the beach with a table surrounded by candles and rose petals and he got down on one knee as the sun set over the ocean

[whaleiumsharkspeare]

My pirate candle arrived! Time for a review.

First of all, this packaging is adorable. I love these cute little characters on the box. It gives me 1950s vibes. The box was wrapped up in bubble wrap to keep the candle safe, which is always appreciated.

Here’s the sides of the jar. Now, as soon as I took off the bubble wrap and opened the box, I was immediately hit with a faint scent from the candle, even before I opened the jar. It was a nice smell reminiscent of most “ocean breeze” scented things.

Here’s the candle. It’s a pretty light blue with a wooden wick. Now I have to be honest, with the lid off and getting real up close with it, I didn’t initially love the scent. The top note was very much a rainy smell, and I was just kind of like “well, okay. I guess it’s alright.” But it is very atmospheric, and if you close your eyes or just have a good imagination, it does actually kind of feel like you’re waiting in line for Pirates of the Caribbean, with that watery scent. But I think maybe I didn’t initially like the smell because sticking my nose right up in there, I got too much of it. I got a little bit of the oils from the candle on my fingers from touching it out of curiosity and I actually liked that scent a lot more. And just kinda leaving the lid open so the scent can naturally drift into the air makes the smell a lot more pleasant and I can get that ocean breeze without being overpowered by the rain. It is at the very least, a pretty atmospheric candle. In my opinion, it’s a smell that might take a little getting used to, lol, but if you’re a fan of the Pirates ride or the movies or just pirate things in general, or if you’re a person who really likes rain, I think it’s worth a try. Overall, I can’t say I love it, at least not yet, but I do at least like it and would certainly be willing to check out some of the other scents from Magic Candle Company

[ezraholmes]

pirate!schlatt x crew!nurse!reader

chapter 1

yipeee wrote a chapter, this is mainly charcater introduction but idk more interesting than just that I hope!

if you haven’t already read the prologue here

word count : 1k ish

cw: mention of injury, mention of death

8 years later, you find yourself still on board the mighty ship you boarded all those years ago. You had grown and matured with the ship that now sported a fair few scratches and missed a plank or too up on deck. The important bit was that you made it, and no longer concealed, you were a pirate! Or as close to being one as a woman could get, you were resident doctor on board the chuckler, a small room beneath deck filled with makeshift beds and vials of medicinal potions; the room was yours, although many a day you spent sharing with unwell pirates. You sat on the edge of one of the crates that formed a bed. Applying some concoction of Caribbean amenities onto a nasty wound upon the boatswains right foot. A wedge of golden light enlarged as the decrepit door of the dimly lit room was pushed further open. Your eyes stayed on your patient, having learned your lesson after a few unfortunate incidents. A humm left your lips, your way of enquiring to your mystery guest. Your question was answered by a firm hand on your shoulder, followed by Schlatt's gruff voice: ‘You almost done?’ Slicing through the mild silence as if with a knife, his violent demeanour was ever present. ‘Yeah. Just let me dress the wound,’ you replied, your voice soft as ever. You reached for the bandage from the crate to your left. Gently stretch it out before wrapping it several times around the foot before you. You could feel Schlatt's eyes on you, him observing how tender and careful you were with every movement. His eyes were following you as if you were the brightest thing in the room, as if you cast everything else into shadow. You slit the end of the bandage and fastened it tight before helping the boatswain to his feet and assisting him out the door. You waved him out of the room and closed the door behind him, turning then to light the candle sitting by your bed. Sitting down next to your newly lit candle, legs dangling from the side of your raised bed, sheets crinkled and faded from years of use. Only then did you look st schlatt, giving him your full attention. He looked down at you, seemingly taking his time choosing his words but in truth admiring the sparkle in your eye and the way you looked at him as if you were equals. As if he wasn’t a cutthroat pirate and you weren’t a well-informed medic. ‘Captain thinks there's a ship up ahead, he says, briefing in 10’ It saddened you the way he referred to his own father with such formality. A ship up ahead meant a raid, you sighed. As much as you enjoyed the pirate life, you knew how Schlatt would throw himself into battles. He would fight to the end. Thankfully, that ‘end’ hadn’t yet been his end. You and Schlatt had grown even closer over your years at sea, a combination of your already-formed bond and the fact that everyone else on the ship was a good few years older, well into their 30’s. He knew how much you despised the wholeheartedness he applied to battle; he knew you spent their time at battle sitting worriedly on your bunk waiting, hoping for his return. This was probably the only reason he hadn’t yet come a cropper. Saving himself for you. He was the only reason you joined this ruddy ship, and he wouldn’t leave you here alone. 

Minutes later, Schlatt broke the silence that had overcome the both of you. ‘We better go,’ he offered you a hand, and he helped lever you out of your bed. Your hands lingered in each other's grasp a little longer than anticipated before falling back to their owners sides. He followed you out of the room, unbeknownst to you, his hand hovering just off the small of your back as you made your way up the ship's rickety stairs and up onto the top deck. The fresh sea air is a relief to your lungs after the damp, smelly interior or the ocean vessel. You let Schlatt take the lead, and you followed him to the gathering of men around the helm of the ship. A man you knew as Zame passed schlatt a tankard of rum, watching you almost judgingly as you seated yourself atop an empty barrel. Schlatt stood himself behind you, a protective hand on your shoulder. Being the only female on a ship of middle-aged men led to more than your fair share of sexual advances, and Schlatt knew how much you disliked the attention. He acted as somewhat of a guardian angel with the way he shot angry glares at anyone looking your way, even a little too long. The captain stood on the raised platform of the ships wheel and explained the vague plan. Himself Schlatt and Gart were to be the front line of attack, and so on and so forth. Our pirates were skilled, usually taking our whole ship with only one or two casualties and very rarely fatalities; as far as you were aware, your ship was known ocean wide. Yet still, before any raid or attack, there were the nerves bouncing around your head and making light in your stomach. The uneasy feeling knowing the possibility of schlatts demise. In your head, you were friends, but you’d been devoid of social norms for the last 8 years, not having seen the proper functions of love interests and feelings. Not being taught the difference and how friends acted. Schlatt was always touchy with you, feeling the need to always have some part of himself connected to you when in your general vicinity, and vice versa. You hadn’t yet realised the strength of your relationship, and yet with every clash of swords, you feared the end of it.

You could see the other ship drawing nearer, and with a soft exchange of words, you were sent back to your room to cross your fingers and wait for your friends return. 

<-previous part ||

Ummm yipeee, I have an idea for plot so just hold tight :)

kinda new to posting on here so lmk if you enjoyed this by rebloging or wtv 🫶

taglist: @azzypzazzy (just ask to be added or removed)

[magicaguajiro]

Resources for Cuban and Caribbean Folk Magic 🇨🇺

Disclaimer: Cubans are not a monolith so when we say ‘Cuban Folk Magic’ its like saying ‘American Folk Magic’ in the sense that it is a BROAD term that includes multiple different cultural threads and traditions. Start by researching your ancestors and where they were from as a jumping off point.

Also, many of these resources are not Cuban themselves, but they either share the same practices or are academic or general sources. I have made it clear when a source isn’t Cuban. For this reason, I have expanded it to be the Cuban AND Caribbean Folk Magic List.

The List

Creators:

Irka Mateo - Taino - Insta 🇩🇴

Religion.Ancestral.Taino - Insta 🇵🇷

Sancista Brujo Luis - Espiritismo/Taino-Youtube | Blog 🇵🇷

OkaniLuna - Brujería/Taino - Youtube🇩🇴

Juliet Diaz - Brujería/Taino/Author - Instagram 🇨🇺

Sancista 7 Espadas - Espiritismo - Insta 🇵🇷

Odofemi - Regla de Ocha - Tumblr 🇺🇸

Eve the Medium - ATR/Espiritismo - Youtube 🇩🇴

Yeyeo Botanica - ATR/Espiritismo- youtube 🇺🇸

Botanica Candles & More - Great Podcast!! - youtube 🇨🇺 🇺🇸

Connecting w/ Guides and Goals by Adunola - youtube 🇺🇸

Hatuey Museum of Archaeology, Baracoa, Cuba - Taíno archaeologists photos and blog - Link

Florida Memory - Photos and Articles on Folk History of Florida and surrounding areas - Link

Articles

San Lazaro - Wikipedia - Novena - Yeyeo Botanica

Caridad del Cobre - Wikipedia

Orisha and Palo Herbs Directory- Website

Ewe (Herbs) Photo Guide - Website

Pueblo Originario Taino Section - Website

Taino and Agua Dulce essay by Jorge Estevez - Link

Memoir of Florida’s Indigenous People by Hernando Escalante de Fontaneda - Link

Tacachale: Essays on Indigenous Floridians by Milanich and Proctor - Link

Huellas Indigenas en Cuba - Taino Spirituality in Cuban Folk Magic Article - Link

Books:

Taino Library* - Amazing resource for books of all kinds, many books about Taino and Caribbean Spiritualities, Folklores and Songs! Multiple books on Cuban Myths and Folktales! Highly recommend - Website 🇵🇷

Espiritismo by Hector Silva🇩🇴

A Year in White by C Lynn Carr

The Modern Art of Brujería by Lou Florez(VERY BASIC just as a general introduction to what alot of modern Folk Practices look like)

American Brujeria by J. Allen Cross 🇲🇽🇺🇸

El Monte by Lydia Carbera 🇨🇺

Palmetto Country by Stetson Kennedy - Link

Movies and Videos:

Cecilia (1982) - Youtube

Las Profecias de Amanda - Youtube

Susie Jim Billie, Medicine Woman Interview - Link

Proyecto Cuba Indigena - Link

Miguel Sague, Taíno Spirituality - Link

**This list will grow as I find more resources that are reliable enough to share. If you have recommendations or would like to be added, please reach out.

Luz y Progreso 🕯️

(I also have included a Research Guide below the Cut!)

Guide to researching based on your ancestry:

If your family has African roots, you can seek Ocha/Lukumi, Palo, Arara, Cuban Vodou and other African Traditional Religions and Practices. Please approach elders within these respective practices to further your connection to them, rather than using books to create a practice for yourself. These are ancient, community based and are lifelong commitments, not just trendy powerful spells for you to get what you want.

If your family has indigenous roots, research Taino spirituality and modern practices , but also know that there were other tribes in the western and centeral parts of Cuba, with their own languages and traditions you can still learn about like the Guanahatabey. You may also consider joining a Yukayeke, but this isn’t required. Reconnecting and decolonizing is a separate and important topic that is not inherently witchcraft or folk magick-y… HOWEVER, researching and informing yourself with these practices can help you to see their influence within modern folk practices.

If your family has Asian roots, research the buddhist cults and folk practices throughout Cuba! Believe it or not, we also have people of Middle Eastern descent in Cuba who brought with them their own Hindu and Arabic Folk Traditions, which can be found throughout Cuba and the Caribbean as a whole.

If your family has Spanish roots, research some open practices like Espiritismo and Folk Catholicism! Look into the Patron Saints of Cuba, La Virgen de La Caridad del Cobre and San Lazaro. These also tie in to many of the other cultures who were forced to adopt certain elements to ensure survival of their traditions! You can also look into Brujería. Much like modern witchcraft, modern brujería has been commodified to hell and back, but there is still some great knowledge and power to be found there.

The fact of the matter is, that most of us can fit ourselves into two or more of these categories, and this crossover is where Folk Magic is often born. Its also important to note, in alot of these traditions you shouldn’t learn or share certain things at certain times, so some sources who share too much about Ocha and other ATRs should be avoided. Also, I can’t stress how important it is to talk to your family! Ask them about folklore or legends and stories! Also research history and folkore of the specific areas in Cuba your family is from. A-lot of folk magic is incorporated into stories.

Bendiciones, good luck on your Journey!🦎🐊

[numinousmysteries]

For the prompts: Mulder peering into the wondrous world of his fishtank.

This prompt is ancient now but the muse strikes when the muse strikes. Origin story of Mulder’s fish tank comes from @sagan-starstuff's brilliant post here. (I also don't actually. think I answered the prompt but this is what happened.)

A true one-bedroom in a good neighborhood—”in walking distance to Old Town,” according to the matronly realtor—2630 Hegal Place wasn’t a posh address but it wasn’t a total shithole either. Despite his burning instinct for self-flagellation, Fox Mulder’s trust fund parachute and Brooks Brothers upbringing would only let him stoop so low. Still, it was dreary enough to feel like a punishment.

He wasn’t naive enough to think that apartment 42 would be the answer to life, the universe, and everything, but it was an appropriate answer to the question of where to put a brooding man, ears still ringing from the shellshock of a failed six-month marriage. A fitting habitat for a 20th-century Heathcliff in virgin wool Zegna suits locked on course to ruin his professional reputation in the name of a long-lost sister and memories he didn’t fully trust. 

It was meant to be a stopgap. He signed a month-to-month lease. Months turned to years.

Late at night, dozing on the couch (beds are for men deserving of rest, who have the luxury of shutting off their brains a third of each day with no need for constant vigilance), the only light came from the fish tank. 

He hated the fucking fish at first, resented their glorious ignorance, their freedom from the burden of comprehension and consequence. The tank and its occupants were a housewarming/divorce gift from the Gunmen; a poorly-considered insurance policy against what they expected was his impending suicide. Fuck them, he thought, let the fish die. Let it all burn to the ground. After two days of mutual starvation, though, he locked eyes with a translucent molly and felt his humanity pulse beneath callused layers of cynicism. He tipped the container of freeze-dried flakes into the tank. He made himself a piece of dry toast. 

Newton’s first law of motion governs that action begets action. He kept rising every morning, searching for the truth, and feeding the fish. 

He was assigned a new partner. She fed the fish when he was detained in military custody, quarantined with a parasite of unknown origin, or chasing radio signals in Caribbean jungles.  

But Scully didn’t belong in his fox den. His newspaper-plastered bile nest. 

Her home was light where his was dark, soft where his was hard, warm where his was cold. She displayed framed family photos out in the open. Apple-cheeked baby nephews. A younger Scully in a cap and gown with her father grinning beside her. He hid an album of patrilineal co-conspirators under the false bottom of a desk drawer. Unsmiling men quietly plotting the demise of all mankind over cans of Rheingold in well-manicured backyards. Demerol-dazed wives trading their children for Givenchy dresses and empty promises of a valiant future. 

All her blonde wood Pottery Barn furniture and Yankee Candle torches couldn’t protect her from his darkness, though. Duane Barry stepped right into her sanctum and tore her away from him.

He took off on an ill-fated West Coast vampire hunt that ended in a bloodless climax and a three-alarm blaze. Somehow, all but one of his fish survived. He flushed down the fallen soldier, contemplating the shortcomings of mortality and the prison of eternity. 

Bleary-eyed and broken, he sat in the darkness, his gaze darting between his loaded gun and the glowing tank. This new knowledge of himself—that he was a man who’d kill in cold blood for vengeance—threatened to obliterate his reluctant detente with the fish. By tomorrow morning, he would no longer be their worthy steward. 

A knock on the door. Melissa Scully entered, her presence a tauntingly inaccurate facsimile of the woman he wanted to see. She was a few inches too tall, her hair several shades too dark, her rosy worldview miles off base. But she wasn’t that different from his partner after all. She called him out on his masochistic bullshit and saw the light within him. 

Newton’s second law of motion states that an object requires a commensurate force to launch it into action. He doesn’t believe that. These wispy Scully women with their birdlike bones and feather-soft breath shouldn’t have the power to lift him out from under two decades of self-hatred—but they do. So he put his faith in this patchouli-scented witchy sister with her silk choker and mall-bought crystals, bid the fish (and his blood-stained, testosterone-fueled revenge fantasy) goodbye, and went to see his dying partner.