#Black audience

[sbrown82]

Y’all ‘memba that time Lisa Stansfield ATE the Apollo Theater up?! 

[babeyvenus]

My Future

Derek Hale x OC

Samantha, Stiles and Scott are always joking about the impossible. Who wouldn't when your best friend's dad is the sheriff of Beacon Hills? All jokes stop when they realize the impossible is indeed possible.

Chapter 63: We Hear You

Regardless of how he was feeling, Stiles sat on a bench, keeping himself from crying. He shouldn't have to. He wasn't gone. Not yet.

He felt the bench shift and saw an old woman turned to him, smiling. "I'm waiting for a train."

Stiles nodded a bit. "Yeah, it's probably running late.", he mumbled.

"I'm going to see my grandchildren.", the lady smiled widely, her manner surprisingly making Stiles' smile as well.

The small woman laid her shaky hand on his shoulder. "Who are you going to see?", she asked.

"Uh," his jaw shifted as he swallowed. "No one."

The lady furrowed her brow, confused. Stiles looked at her confused and before he could ask what was wrong, the intercom came on, a voice speaking through it. "The following stops have been canceled, Hollatine, Batten," Stiles got up and took a few steps towards the speaker of the intercom. "Bay Burry, Deer Ridge, Red Oak Trenton, Anderson, King Springs."

Once the calls were done, Stiles' eyes tracked the wires that ran across the ceiling, wrapping themselves around different poles of each speaker.

He followed where all the wires gathered, moving into a room he hadn't seen. Peter's eyes followed him as he leaned on a pillar, his arms crossed against his chest. "Intercom.", he said. and Stiles glanced at him. "Maybe a radio?" Stiles looked back, going up to the door and opened it, walking in with Peter behind him.

Stiles looked at all the controls of the radio. Something he was familiar with in his jeep.

He frowned, his eyes widening. He has a radio in his jeep that connects to the sheriff's station.

"If I could fix this to contact the sheriff's station, I could get someone to get us out.", Stiles said, already touching up on some stuff.

"Your theory is ridiculous.", Peter spoke as he paced behind him.

Stiles noticed a black wire was broken. "Magnetic disturbances and a few pixelated photos doesn't mean that you can use a ham radio to communicate across a supernatural barrier.", Peter said, making Stiles look at him with an unimpressed face before the boy reached down, grabbed both ends of the cord and focused on putting it together.

"Ghost Riders can't be seen, heard, or remembered. You really think they're gonna leave a gadget around that you can use to call your friends?", Peter asked.

Once Stiles got the two ends together and twisted them, he turned the dial on the radio which caused a loud high-pitched feedback to come through. Both him and Peter covered their ears, groaning.

On the other side of the world, Sam, Scott, and Malia wince, trying to block out the high pitch whine coming from the jeep.

"How'd you turn it on?", Malia asked. Sam frowned. "I don't have the keys.", she said and rushed to open the driver's side door.

Her eyebrows furrowed. "A radio?" How had she not noticed that before?

While Stiles was trying to figure out the ham radio, trying new things, Peter sat relaxed. "Take your time. No rush. Only thing at stake is any evidence of our existence… soon to be lost… forever.", he mumbled.

"Okay, not helping.", Stiles retorted, turning a dial on causing and with Peter's sensitive hearing, he heard the horses, his attention snapping towards the door.

"Shit.", Peter muttered before running up to the machines and unplugged them all.

Before Stiles could ask, Peter snuck them out before the Ghost Rider could find them. The both of them hid behind the one pillar, watching the rider go in with his gun and after a bit, came back out, visibly looking angry at the passengers.

Peter leaned in over Stiles's shoulder, whispering. "In case you're keeping count, that's twice I've saved your life today."

Stiles frowned before following the eldest Hale.

Scott searched the jeep with Lydia and Sam. The noise that came from the radio suddenly stopped. Scott looked up. "Why'd it stop?", Malia asked.

"It doesn't matter." Lydia stated, trying to push on the Master Switch, but it wasn't working. She sighed, "There has to be a reason."

Scott sniffed, looking around the jeep. "What…?" He mumbled, closing his eyes to breathe in the rush of familiar scents.

"You caught a scent?" Lydia perked up. "Yeah. Uh….ours… mine, yours, all four of ours.", Scott said.

"Mine?" Malia asked, confused. "I've never been in this Jeep before."

"Neither have I.", Scott shook his head. 

"Well for some reason, I was in there but I still don't know why.", Sam said. Lydia spoke up. "Yes, you guys have been in here. You just don't remember it."

"I thought we were done with that.", Malia said before glancing at Scott who cleared his throat.

"Parrish checked the VIN number, though. There's no record of the owner."

"Well, the jeep is here somehow. Are we just gonna ignore the fact that I somehow magically appeared in it?", Sam emphasized with wide eyes.

They looked at her with unsure faces. "Sam, he can't be real. Maybe you just sleepwalked your way inside.", Malia said.

Sam frowned at the girl. "I don't sleep walk. I never have. And how could I have gotten in the jeep, there's no signs of aggressive entry. I didn't break a handle or a window, and it was locked."

"Well we might have some type answers.", Lydia said, holding a registration form. Scott reached for it, grabbed it and read it. "This is from '96. And there's no name."

"But there's an address.", Lydia pointed out and Sam moved closer to see the address. "129 Woodbine Lane. That's–"

"The sheriff's house.", Lydia said, sadly. She took a deep breath before readying herself. "I need to go there."

Sam and Scott frowned. "By yourself?", Sam asked. Lydia nodded. "I feel like I need to."

The three gave her a nod, watching her leave the jeep and ran into her car, leaving the school's parking lot.

Sam got into the jeep, moving to the passenger side and sighed. With glossy eyes, she settled into the seat, looking down at her hands.

Where she sat felt so… real. It felt normal. She didn't feel out of place. Visions flashed through her mind once more.

She was in the passenger seat. In a dress. She went to the winter formal? She remembers that.

She remembered waking up, covered in dirt. She remembers seeing the light scar over her eyelid but never questioned why it was there in the first place.

She turned to the back seats, moving back there as she looked at the front seats, another vision flashing through her mind.

She remembers being outside the sheriff's station, watching the receptionist. Two guys were in the front seats but she can't remember their faces.

She remembers a man with a black leather jacket and a boy with a red flannel shirt talking. Who was the man? Why wasn't he here? Was he affected too? Did he know Stiles?

Moments later, Lydia had shown up and they watched as the guy from earlier backed his tow truck in front of the jeep and got out to face the teenagers. "We already paid you. I gave you all of my money for that drop fee.", Scott said.

"Yeah, I dropped it, all right? Now I'm picking it up again.", the man said.

"How much?" Lydia asked, getting into her purse. "I'll write you a check."

The man stopped her. "It's not about how much.", he said. "They want it out of here, okay? It's not up to me."

"Well, this vehicle isn't abandoned. You saw me in it!", Sam exclaimed as she stepped in front of the jeep. 

The guy scoffed, a slight smile coming to his face. "Either you move, or I move you. I'm hookin' this thing up and I am towing it away."

Sam glared at the man. "You're not touching this damn jeep.", she growled.

Scott noticed the girl's nails had gotten longer and darker and before he could say anything, the back of the tow truck squealed and gained the teenagers' attention, seeing Malia holding the hook. 

As she held it up, she yanked it off of the wire, making the guy turn around to take notice. "Your truck's broke.", she said, nonchalantly handing him the metal hook.

In shock, he grabbed it with slow hands. Malia grinned as the man left. 

Scott looked at Sam who had yet to calm down, and grabbed both her hands. "You need to relax. Breathe.", he said, softly making her fists clench before helping them unclench as he takes a breath and softly lets it out.

He had her repeat the motions, slowly calming her down and saw her nails had shortened once more.

"How'd you know to do that?", Sam asked. Scott smiled. "I think you taught me."

In the train station, Ghost Riders gathered, making the passengers hurtle into mass hysteria. Stiles jumped over a bench, crouching down behind it and Peter did the same, watching everything unfold.

Stiles saw one of the Ghost Riders drop a Beacon Hills Lacrosse player and others. "This place is really starting to fill up.", Peter muttered.

One Lacrosse player got up taking off her helmet and another girl was near, seeing her on the floor. "Gwen?" Gwen glanced up, seeing the other girl who she seemed to know. "Gwen!"

"Phoebe?", Gwen hugged her and Phoebe hugged back. "Oh, my god, you're here!"

Stiles frowned as he watched the interaction. "Wait a second. That girl — I know that girl. Her name is Gwen. She plays lacrosse." 

He looked at Peter before looking at the Ghost riders. "How long has this been going on?", Stiles whispered to Peter. 

Peter glanced at the Arrivals and Departures board, seeing how Beacon Hills was listed first and he turned back, realizing what was happening. "This isn't a train station, this is a way station.", he said, now frustrated. "It's not gonna stop."

He looked back at the board once more. This was it. Beacon Hills was going to be a big hit within a few days and there wasn't much they could do. Peter sighed harshly as he placed his forehead in the side of the bench. 

"What is it?", Stiles asked, noticing Peter's sudden behavior. "What are those places? Bannack? Canaan? I know you know something."

"We gotta get out of here. Nobody is safe.", Peter said.

"Yeah, in here?", Stiles asked, sarcastically.

"In Beacon Hills. Your friends, your family, everyone. Everyone that you've ever known.", Peter said, crouching. "They're gonna be taken.", he said before hurrying off into the tunnel.

"Where are you going?", Stiles called out, before following him.

He caught up with Peter, panting. "What did you see up there? The towns. What did it mean?"

"I just told you. They're never gonna stop.", Peter said. 

Stiles frowned. "Okay, so what's the plan then?"

"I'm goin' through the portal.", Peter simply said.

"Wait, wait, wait.", Stiles stopped him. "No one gets through the portal. You said that yourself."

"No human can. But I'm better than a human, remember? I'll heal.", Peter reminded him.

Stiles moved to stand in front of Peter. "If you survive, you have to find my friends, okay? You have to tell them about us, 'cause they're not gonna remember me, so you have to tell them that I'm here—"

Peter cut him off. "Stiles, lemme make this perfectly clear. When I survive—if I survive, I'm going to get as far away from Beacon Hills as I possibly can," Peter told him.

"And, if I happen upon one of your below-average friends and it doesn't inconvenience me, I might mention your name.", he says and walks around him.

"Yeah? What about Malia?", Stiles asked, making Peter come to a stop. "Even after all the shitty things you've done, I know you're doing this for her. You're risking being incinerated for her. And I'm okay with that."

Peter turned to Stiles promptly, only to get cut off by the sound of neighing in the distance. "You need to stall them.", he told Stiles.

"W-What? How?", he asked, knowing he didn't stand a chance against those things.

"Use your head.", Peter said, rushing to hide behind a pillar.

Peter shifted his foot and felt something hard underneath it. He looked down and saw Stiles' keys to the Jeep. With a frown, he picked them up, watching as Stiles threw a bench into the middle of the tracks, which slowed the horses down a little.

After the one passed, Peter jumped from the platform, grasping onto the back of the horse, fighting with the rider on the way out. 

Stiles watched the interaction, a weird sense of relief flooded his body as he saw Peter go through before looking at the rider who looked up at him.

Before Stiles could run, the rider cracked his whip, wrapping it around Stiles' neck, and pulled him down to the tracks before leaving through the portal.

Stiles groaned as his back hit the wall behind him, rubbing his sore neck. His eyes widened as he saw a light shine from his wrist, seeing the illuminated crescent moon on the corner of his wrist.

He remembers that Sam had linked him to her whenever something went wrong. Either she got the message, or something was wrong on the other end.

He hoped it was the former.

The four that sat in the jeep, almost lulled to sleep, had jumped at the loud, ground shaking roar they had heard.

Once it stopped, they looked at each other. "What the hell was that?", Sam asked.

"You guys heard that too?", Malia asked. Lydia frowned. "I think all of Beacon Hills heard it."

"Who is it?", Scott asked, looking at both Sam and Malia.

"I'm not sure, but I think I recognize it.", Malia said hesitantly.

"It does sound scarily familiar.", Sam said. Impatiently, Lydia snapped at them. "Go!"

The three rushed out of the jeep, the two following the burnt scent while Sam followed them.

"Hey, any luck?", Scott asked, finding Sam and Malia in a small clearing.

"No.", Malia said. "He hasn't roared again. I've got a scent, but…"

"There's something wrong with it," Scott finished for her, knowing what she meant.

They heard another loud roar, weakening as they got closer. After a moment of looking, they spotted a charred body on the ground.

They could barely recognize the body but Sam paused as she saw it. Another vision flashed as she remembered red eyes. She remembers being chased into the woods.

"I hear a heartbeat.", Malia said, glancing between Scott and Sam.

"Who is that?", Scott asked.

"I don't know, but I know the scent. Even through the barbecue.", she told him.

Sam frowned at her. "You don't remember who it is?", she asked as she knelt by the body.

Malia frowned in confusion and kneeled at Peter's other side. Scott looked around for any signs of fire. "How do you think he got here? There's no tracks, no fire…", he said.

Peter's eyes flashed open, the light blue the only color against the black remains of his body. Malia and Sam gasped and flinched away.

"Oh, my God!", Malia exclaimed, looking up at Scott. "Peter!"

Scott came and knelt near Peter's head, still confused. "Who's Peter?"

"Peter Hale — my dad.", Malia clarified.

"Peter….?", Sam muttered as she looked at the man before looking in his eyes. Her memories of the man flooded her brain, making her gasp softly.

She remembered his snarkiness, his sarcasm, even him defending her and vice versa. She especially remembers him biting her. "He bit me…"

Scott nodded. "Me too.", he muttered, remembering every moment specifically with Peter. "How could I forget him?", he asked, looking down at the man.

"How did I forget him?", Malia asked, frowning. She glanced down, seeing Peter trying to move his hand. "He has something."

Peter tried his best to speak, but he couldn't. His wheezes spoke for him. Sam quickly grabbed Peter's hand, shocked at the pain she absorbed.

It seemed to be helping him heal faster, but still. Where had she learned to do that?

Groaning at the pain she absorbed, she watched as her arms darkened as she looked at the charred man.

Scott and Malia helped, wincing in pain as well, helping the eldest Hale ease into relief as he teetered his way in and out of consciousness.

Malia checked his hand again, and she grabbed what he was holding.

"What is it?", Sam asked. The three frowned as she held up what he held tightly.

It was a set of car keys.

Before any of them could say anything, a bright light shined in Scott and Malia's face as they looked at Sam.

Both of them looked at the girl in shock, while Sam looked at them in confusion. "What?", she asked.

Scott hurriedly pulled out his phone and showed Sam her reflection, showing that a bright crescent moon was shining on her forehead.

Her eyes widened. What the hell…?

A quick vision flashed once more. She saw the jeep toppled over with fire near it. Why was the jeep toppled over? What happened? Who was in it?

She shook her head, watching the crescent moon dim into a black print now. She pulled her hood over her head, covering it and looked at the two in front of her. "We gotta get him help."

They nodded, looking at the man who slowly passed out. It was easier to pick him up now, helping him to the hospital.

After Malia went with her father to the hospital, Scott, Lydia and Sam sat in the Jeep. Lydia sat in the driver's seat, holding up the key to the car, looking at it intently.

The one question bothered Sam. Why did Peter have the keys to the jeep in the first place?

Lydia put in the key and turned it, only for the Jeep engine to sputter, refusing to start.

"This damn jeep.", Sam sighed.

Lydia huffed before trying again, pressing on the gas pedal repeatedly while twisting the ignition. The car sputtered, but it wasn't enough to turn on.

"Don't flood it.", Scott told her.

Lydia looked at him confused. "Do you even know what that means?"

Scott shook his head. "Not really." Sam looked at Lydia's foot. "Ease up a little."

Letting out a breath, Lydia turned the key one last time, suddenly hearing the rumbling of the Jeep. The headlights of the car shined the graveled ground below them, making them let out relieved laughs.

However, that didn't bring back any memories. They got one thing done, but they were far from finished. "Now what?", Sam frowned.

"No clue—", Scott was cut off by the radio in the car cutting on loudly, the static hurting their ears.

"Hello?"

Scott reached to turn it down, but Lydia quickly grabbed his wrist to stop him. "Wait, wait, wait, wait!" she said quickly, her eyes wide. The car went silent.

"Hello?", they heard. "Is anyone there? Can anyone hear me?"

Their eyes widened.

Lydia grabbed the radio and held it to her mouth, shaking before she spoke. "S-Stiles?", she asked. They waited in anticipation for an answer.

Scott leaned in close as well. "Stiles? Are you there?"

"Scott? Lydia? Is that you?", Stiles asked, the relief in his tone clear.

Everyone's face brightened into relieved smiles. "Oh, my God, Stiles! We can hear you!", Lydia exclaimed. "I told you guys he was real!", Sam exclaimed.

"Sammy!? Oh, my God. You know me? You guys remember me?", he asked, excited.

Lydia hesitated again, looking at Scott and Sam. "Stiles, is this… you? Is this actually you?", she asked.

"Yeah.", he said, sniffling. "Listen to me. Do you remember the last thing I said to you?"

"You said…", Lydia closed her eyes, faintly remembering his voice echoing in her mind. "You said, 'Remember I love you.'"

Stiles was quiet, but where he stood he was relieved, more hopeful than he was before. Peter had done it.

Sam grabbed the radio from Lydia's hand. "Stiles, where are you? Are you okay?", he heard.

He smiled. "You have no idea how good it feels to hear you guys. Yeah. Yeah, I'm okay. You guys have to remember me."

"Everything's in bits and pieces for me, but I'm remembering.", Sam says with a smile. "Did you see the moon? Did you get it?", Stiles asked.

"The moon?", Sam asked, confused. "You made a link to me whenever something was wrong, whether I was sick or hurt.", Stiles explained quickly. "It's a crescent moon on my wrist."

Sam frowned as she realized what he meant. "We saw it on my forehead. That was you?"

Stiles nodded, though she couldn't see him. "Yeah, it's a long story, but–"

"Where are you?", Lydia questioned.

"We're comin' to get you.", Scott said quickly.

"No, no, no. You can't. You won't be able to find me.", Stiles told them quickly.

"Stiles, what – what are you talking about?", Scott asked, shaking his head. "Just tell us where you are, and w-we'll come and—"

"Look, just remember this," Stiles interrupted him, rushing. "Canaan. Okay? You have to find Canaan. Just find Canaan."

Then the radio cut off on his end, sending the three into unsettled silence. "The Nogitsune…", Sam said, suddenly, making Scott and Lydia look at her in shock.

"I remember hearing his voice. He sounded so scared and alone… it was so sudden. He kept hanging up and we couldn't find him.", Sam said, her eyes glossing over.

Scott placed a hand on her arm. "We're gonna find our best friend." He looked at Lydia who looks at him with glistening eyes. "We're close.", he says, nodding at her.

[contactlessdrivethru]

just finished opla mood

[aethersea]

I do think Blazing Saddles handled its one depiction of native americans very poorly, and the full extent of its representation of chinese workers on the railroad is they were literally just there. not even one single speaking line. unclear if this is worse or better than the redface.

it's fucking phenomenal at lampooning antiblack racism though. extremely blatant, extremely funny satire, which is constantly and loudly saying "racism is the philosophy of the terminally stupid at best and morally depraved at worst, and we should all be pointing and laughing at them 24/7"

plus the main character is a heroic black man who has to navigate a whole lot of bullshit but is constantly smirking at the extraordinarily stupid racists and inviting the audience into the joke. the one heroic white character is a guy who was suicidally depressed until he met the protagonist and they just instantly became buds, and he's firmly in a supporting role the whole time and happy to be there. the protagonist saves the day with the help of his black friends from the railroad, and uses the position of power he was given to uplift not only those friends, but all the railroad workers of other minorities too, in an explicit show of solidarity.

anyone saying "Blazing Saddles is racist" had better be talking about its treatment of non-black minorities. it had better not be such superficial takes as "oh but they say the n-word all the time" or "they have nazis and the kkk in there!" because goddamn if that's the full extent of your critique I very seriously suggest you read up on media analysis. there is too much going over your head, you need to learn to recognize satire.

[thatneoncrisis]

i wrote a big long essay talking about tlt and how it engages with describing the skintones of brown characters its under a read more bc it is so long.

I already left a long comment about this on someone else post but I wish I could study tazmuirs odd little habit of dancing around the fact that Gideon and Harrow are women of color when she describes them, and how this kind of extends to other brown characters

We get a million descriptions for how sickly pale ianthe Silas and cytherea are, what a lovely golden tan corona has, the odd tannish yellow hue of colum, all imagined by her, in her own words, to be white. Then when it comes to Marta and Judith they're called dark like Once in the text. I don't think it's even mentioned for Jeannemary and magnus in the entirety of gtn though I will gladly stand corrected if I missed something. It's such a non factor for them, which normally I would overlook if it wasn't for the aforementioned specificity of how white characters are described on Top of one of the major themes of the book being how John, a Maori man, resurrected a largely Polynesian population and then proceed to rule them using the exact same methods that actively colonized new zealand. Like I just think it's really interesting that in many ways, the story is about two young Maori women completely stripped of cultural heritage, they can't even speak te reo maori they cannot even conceptualize the scale of that kind of loss. Theyve been to earth once and during her brief time there Gideon literally died on it's soil it feels so poignant

Back to them specifically being Not Pale, this is not me saying they would be "less" maori if they were light-skinned that's total bullshit and the entire paradigm exists as a product of European bullshit. My fascination is more with the fact that tamsyn has clearly thought of them as midtoned to dark skinned. I'm going to be really generous and disregard the Tommy Arnold covers- he is a talented artist but he's not the author and Taz stated in an interview that she didn't envision Gideon with an undercut either so he clearly has little liberties he can take and I'm fine with that get your coin dude. For these two I'm going to have to focus on Nona the Ninth, bc for the entirety of gtn, harrow is described as grey, and while I understand that's bc she's constantly under a mountain of white and black facepaint, we basically never get an objective description for either of them. Gideon stand out features are her build, hair and eyes, like a lot of characters, but it could have been pretty easy to throw in a line about how she seems less desaturated than what one might expect from a ninth cavalier, like a rich warm brown, possibly hinting to other characters that she isn't a ninth native

Htn also gives very little to work with, again harrows primary colors are the blacks whites and greys of facepaint and her hair and the reds of constantly sweating blood. The character who's darker skintone is Most remarked upon (also one of the few ever constantly headcanoned) as black, is g1deon. I've actually spoken to a few people about this and there seems to be some actual Mandela effect shit going on where people remember Taz saying he's black despite me never once finding evidence for this. However, this is not a case where I'd be overjoyed to be proven wrong, because g1deon being the one black guy in this entire cast, the one who's dark skintone is commented on the most, being the guy who barely speaks, tries killing harrow with a spear 14 times and then dies offscreen. Not good. Bad, actually

Finally onto ntn, in the beginning chapters Nona remarks her (harrows) skintone is the color of an egg carton. I assume she means the light tan, desaturated brown of the cardboard used in certain cartons, which is fitting for harrow, girls lived in an ice cave for 17 years. This is basically the only word we get on it. I believe a few times the text will say something about pyrrha's (g1deon's) brown Everything; brown skin, russet brown hair, rich brown eyes. that character gets to be viewed and constantly affirmed as a brown character in teh way gideon and harrow arent, it kind of others pyrrha. to contrast camillas hands are called tanned way at the beginning while recording nona's dream, then at the way end it says, "Her face still looked grey beneath its nice normal olive," olive being used to describe her once before in gtn as far as i can see. pyrrha's (g1deon's) skintone is one of her most notable features, its brought up to a noticeable agree the text wants you to keep it in your mind when you think of the saint of duty; "Most of Pyrrha was the colours of the building site: deep dried-out browns, dusty hunks of clay, rusted metal." "Pyrrha wouldn’t burn any colour other than her deep cool brown." "Nona took the water from Pyrrha’s brown, work-chapped hand and even sipped it" "Pyrrha had carried Camilla to bed in her big brown arms like Cam weighed nothing" "Pyrrha said, “Thanks, Nums,” and drained the whole thing. Nona,fascinated, watched the brown column of her throat move as she swallowed." its just notable to me when alternatively with nona you'll get a line like "Camilla didn’t say anything to that either, only rubbed her wrists where the tape had been. Nona’s skin was already back to its nice normal colour." like just the vagueness in nice normal color, we get one line about what shes supposed to look like in the beginning and thats it

towards the end during the broadcast, nona gets her first clear look at kiriona, described as: "warm-coloured skin that should have been a similar brown hue to Nona’s, except that there was something wrong with it." break out the champagne its official

Obviously, dying takes some color from you. If anything, gideons desaturation should make them More comparable given the egg carton comment and harrows general state of constant anemia. Has Nona gotten darker during her time on new rho? Was Gideon lighter than the cover led us to believe? We don't know. We well never know, which is odd, bc these books fucking love purple prose about people's appearances. We have like seven different synonyms for the shade of ianthes hair. New words for black have to be invented in order to convey harrows eyes which are Black, not the dark muddy brown of someone like ortus. It's less that I'm bothered by the text not hyperfocusing on their skin and more it picking and choosing when it will laser focus on a detail like that, and how often it's skipped over to the point that I like, constantly see people draw harrow as incredibly pale, which is very different from being light-skinned

Finally, I know people can dismiss this as like an audience interpretation thing. I know I actively draw harrow darker than Gideon which I know isn't canon. But this is less about Fandom response to the text and more the text itself and how it's like. Afraid to say brown. near the end of ntn i found One instance of it referring to gideons "slim brown hand" on nonas cheek and that is direct as it gets. even her other like, strongly non european traits are sort of danced around. her nose is "a nose that was the complete opposite of Nona’s nose, one that put her in mind of those big poison desert cats Born in the Morning was crazy about." a very fanciful description, you have to infer that nona means that its probably flat and wide, also giving us the information that harrows is most likely narrow and straight, possibly downturned. im not opposed to this, especially given the character talking about her is nona, but then you get the following paragraph:

"Her skin was very much dead-person skin, ashen and tinted the wrong colour around the nostrils and the mouth. But even if she hadn’t been dead, Nona was critical. Her eyelashes were very dark, but short and curly, whereas Nona thought all eyelashes should be long and straight (her own eyelashes were long and straight). The corpse had too much mouth and a dimple (nobody in her home had a dimple). You could not, at least, see the veins in her eyelids, which were heavy and cold and deep-set. But Nona thought it was going to be a shame to go from being so lovely as she was to being so—redheaded."

its a very frank description. dimple, curly lashes, red head, dead skin, probably a wide mouth. her nose is contrasted against nonas nose, which is also never directly described, and then compared to a fantasy animal we have never heard of until right now

kicks rocks. there isnt a point to this. the series is almost over, there is zero reason to like, knock on taz's door and ask why she did this or that. it doesnt stop me from loving the series, and the insinuation that noticing this means i must dislike the series is frankly insane (real thing that happened). if someone got the impression that harrow was white given how shes described i wouldnt blame them honestly, its most apparent she isnt in the third book (with the cover art being incredibly ambiguous) and a single blog post from taz mentioning shes maori, immediately followed by an "oh i dont care how you see the characters" addendum, which i think is like. an odd thing to tack on bc them descended from kiwis is like, very integral to the story, and gideon being the daughter of the maori man who took everything from her she didnt even know she could have and the (presumably, given her name and a very brief description) maori woman fighting to get that world back its like. damn. it feels a little important. that the audience knows theyre maori. like a little. it feels intertwined with the whole thing about john using european standards of imperialism and general aesthetics to hurt his own kid. actually.

[poorly-drawn-mdzs]

Unsolved Mysteries.

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[mariusslonelysoul]

In black friday, wiggly's baby talk could be easily explained by the fact that his vessel is a children's doll. In npmd however, he explicitly states that the lords in black are holding court in the teens' tongue and form, and if there's one thing teenagers hate is feeling or being perceived as children; still, wiggly uses the same baby talk, though not as much. Therefore, the only logical conclussion is that wiggog y'warth simply talks like that, in this essay i will-

[lunathrix]

little mershade for the end of mermay 🐟🐟

random art thoughts under cut

it's actually a watercolor painting, but i'm not a big fan of the paper texture i get when scanning them. imo they look a lot more finished after getting rid of it with a filter, but it may just be me having looked at my own drawing for too long

any thoughts on the unfiltered version vs the above?

[a-latinawifey]

𝓐𝓵͢͢͢𝓪𝓽𝓲𝓷𝓪𝓦𝓲𝓯𝓮𝔂💋

[dingyuxi]

丁禹兮

[doberbutts]

"It is not enough to say 'We must not wage war.' It is necessary to love peace and sacrifice for it. We must concentrate not merely on the negative expulsion of war, but the positive affirmation of peace."

Martin Luther King Jr. Anti-War Conference, Los Angeles, California, February 25, 1967.

As written on the north wall of his memorial in DC.

[mintyspacecadet]

Tried a new rendering style and going insane about these freaks

[autisticandroids]

FAMINE: That's one deep, dark nothing you've got there, Dean.

[youtube with closed captions]

dean and his father. dean and his family. dean and how bad it is.

(via @closetoyou1970)

[matchavtea]

i miss them so baddd

[ashayam]

Little doodle in class before this presentation, i was compelled to draw the local wife guy and his wife