#like name another dark skin Mexican

[venting402]

when photographers and stylists understand dark skin tones>>>>>

I’m sure there’s more/better examples but I’m just using all that’s in my camera roll

[viridian-coffer]

i may just only open Genshin to leave a complaint in the survey, cause the longer i think about it the worse i feel about the Natlan cast 😬

[andivmg]

My experience with Luke (Punz)

CW: toxic relationship, racism, dubious consent

I know in the past i said that i would no longer speak about him publicly, and when talking about my experiences with abuse and emotional mistreatment i begged to keep it anonymous but after reflecting on this for a week and seeing so many incredibly smart and strong women tell their stories. they have given me the strength to say his name.

this is really scary to talk about because of the copious levels of harassment i have received from his fans in the past so if this spreads or gets out of hand i will simply log off.

If you read my last post, i nicknamed him 1.

So aside from everything i said there, there were a lot of things i didn’t include because they would’ve made it obvious that it was him and it could potentially backfire on me so, i’m very afraid to post this. but i’m going to do it scared anyway, because it’s not fair that he gets to just go and live his life worry-free as if he didn’t practically ruin mine.

Because I already made a very lengthy post about him, i won’t include everything i said last time to avoid being redundant but if i repeat myself, please bear with me.

In our year long relationship i had to endure emotional neglect, gaslighting, verbal abuse, one instance where there was dubious consent, and much more.

Starting off at the beginning of our relationship, that’s when i was getting copious amounts of hate and harassment from his fan base (warranted or not), he decided that our relationship must be kept private. he said it was to “protect” me from his fanbase when in reality it was to protect himself. it was so he wouldn’t get all the backlash i was getting. this is funny because one of the things i got called out for was saying the B slur (derogatory term used against mexicans/latinos). I won’t get into the nuances of if i could say it or not as a puertorican because that’s discourse that does not pertain to this specific situation. But you know who definitely can’t say it? A white boy from Massachusetts. When i was getting cancelled for this and getting thousands of tweets calling me names, he decided that was the perfect time to say “I mean you are a b***** aren’t you? my little b*****.” Now, he said this completely unprompted. I was in the process of writing my apology and he just said that. I tell you this because i immediately shut him down and told him that there was no universe in which it was okay for him to say that word and especially not one where he could just call me that. While i was reprimanding him, he was smiling and laughing. he apparently found it amusing to call me a slur. regardless, he gave me a half-assed apology and said he wouldn’t do it again. and he didn’t. but this wasn’t the only time he was weirdly racist to me. this was my first time being in an interracial relationship so i was led to believe that this was normal by all the white people around me at the time. But, sometimes my spanish accent would come out and he would make fun of me and the way i pronounced some words. He also refused to visit me in Puerto Rico when i lived there or come meet my family when i really wanted him to because he “didn’t like the heat” or “it’s dangerous there isn’t it?”. Once, while we were watching season 2 of Bridgerton, he implied that the Sharma sisters were “too dark” for him to be attracted to them. This hurt me because they are brown skinned girls. I am a brown skinned girl. Then this, combined with the fact that he told me once he wasn’t attracted to me made me feel like my skin color was unattractive. These are only a few examples i can think of at the moment, but i’m sure there were more. Our relationship ended in 2022 so some of my memory is a bit hazy. But, I do remember feeling inferior to him throughout the relationship because he was white and I was not. I chalk that up to all the micro aggressions i had to deal with because i had never felt that way around white people before.

Another thing i had to endure was him constantly making me feel like he was embarrassed to be with me. Because i was cancelled, he didn’t want to associate with me too much. He did defend me on multiple occasions, I’ll give him that. But, he only did it because his name was getting dragged in the mud along with mine. Excusing my actions made him look better for being around me. In reality he didn’t really care. Because he was such a big content creator and someone i looked up to professionally, I took his advice as law. He told me to tone down my personality, to keep a low profile, to change things about myself to be more palatable to his audience. The same audience that spoke about me like “The pussy can’t be that good punz please stop defending her”. So i changed a lot of things about myself and my content to better suit what his audience liked. He made me feel like if his audience liked me, he would be public about our relationship and stop hiding it. He told me the reason why he wanted to keep our relationship a secret was because he didn’t want to get hate for it. But this wasn’t true. On my 20th birthday he went to Las Vegas for a twitch rivals event. That night i asked to facetime him to say goodnight and he refused because he was at a hotel room with his friends and he didn’t want them to know that we were together. It was as if my mere presence or the utterance of my name was a source of embarrassment for him. And he didn’t let me forget it. It wasn’t just a public thing at that point. He didn’t want people to know we were together, period. This was devastating to me because I would talk to all my friends about him. I was so proud to be with him and I was just one more problem to him. He made me feel so small and insignificant just because his fans didn’t like me.

He would berate me a lot. Not just due to getting heat online, although he did do that a lot. But in general whenever we would get into an argument or a disagreement he would always call me names like annoying or weird or stupid. He would raise his voice at me if i did something he didn’t like and call me an idiot. And that really hurt, i felt like i couldn’t bring up anything or do anything without getting insulted. If I hadn’t seen him in a few days because he was too busy streaming and i asked to hang out he would call me needy, clingy, and annoying. Granted, he might not have been wrong, but that is not something you say to someone you claim to love. He also insulted me when i was in depressive episodes. I have BPD and at the time i was not being treated properly for it. So, I was all over the place emotionally and he was what i clung to for validation, reassurance, and love. I talked to him when we first started dating about my disorder and told him that if it seemed like something he couldn’t handle that he could opt out of the relationship. I guess he didn’t think it was that bad or something idk because whenever i had really bad depressive episodes, he would tell me I was too sad to hang out with. He said that my sadness was a burden to him. Which would be fair. But, once my mother had a conversation with him about me. She told him that i am someone who needs a lot of love and caring. She said that if he wasn’t willing to put in that kind of effort into a relationship to just leave me alone. He reassured her that he would be there for me no matter what. He told my mother that he would protect me and my heart. He did not. He took all the warnings I gave him and ignored them and then made me feel like I was the problem. And even worse, he would say that i was pretending to be sad to get his attention when he would neglect for days at a time.

There were also some smaller things like the fact that he made me feel really guilty whenever he would spend money on me. Also, he would be really mean about my eating habits. For context, i used to suffer from an eating disorder. I was anorexic and had a really unhealthy relationship with food during high school and my first year of uni. This relationship began when i was recovering from my ED. For me, eating was really hard. So i had certain comfort foods that, while sometimes unhealthy, at least it was something to eat when i didn’t feel like eating anything. He knew this. Yet, whenever i would crave some of these foods he would call me fat. Constantly told me I’d gain weight from eating all that junk food. Saying that to someone with an eating disorder is crazy. Other smaller things were that whenever I would post tiktoks where i was lip syncing or just looking good he would yell at me and say i was looking for attention. Same with Instagram or Twitter whenever i would post photos where I looked hot. He never planned out a single date for us. I would beg him to get me flowers and he did maybe once but i’ll get into that in a bit. He would make fun of me in front of his friends to make himself look better. He let his friends say really degrading things about me in his presence. For example, once when i was showering, i overheard him on a discord call with George and Sapnap and i heard George say “if you don’t go in the shower and have sex with Andi, i will”. Once, when i was really struggling with my legs (for those of you who don’t know, i have arthritis and it’s very painful. at the time i wasn’t diagnosed but i was in a lot of pain) I literally could not walk. I had to beg him to take me to the ER because i didn’t know what was wrong with me. He didn’t want to take me but eventually i convinced him, and while we were there all he did was complain about how long it was taking and that he would have rather been at home streaming. Whenever I would talk about my interests that i was excited about like shows or books he would be incredibly uninterested and say that those things were stupid and he didn’t want to hear about them. I know all of these seem very silly or superficial but cumulatively it was awful.

Now for arguably the most serious thing i’m going to talk about. I want to preface this by saying i am just telling my side of what happened. You can come to your own conclusions about this.

On April 25, 2022 it was our one year anniversary, and i had made a dinner reservation for us. I expected him to plan something throughout the day for us to do. He told me he was going to spend the whole day playing Valorant so I got upset and cancelled the reservation. After a very heated argument, we calmed down and i asked him to come over. He came over about an hour later with flowers and drinks (I was 20 at the time so I couldn’t buy the drinks myself). He brought Smirnoffs and Trulys. For context, I am a lightweight. I always have been. I literally get tipsy on half a cocktail. And that day, I hadn’t eaten anything because i was in distress over our argument. So we get to talking and drinking. I blacked out after my second Smirnoff. Apparently I drank 3 but I genuinely cannot remember anything after finishing the second one. The next morning i woke up naked in my bed. I woke him up and asked him “Luke, why am I naked?” and he said “Because you didn’t want to put your clothes back on.” When I clarified to him that that was not what I meant, he got defensive and said that he didn’t realize how drunk I was. He proceeded to tell me that I initiated sex with him and that i was very enthusiastic about it. He said he didn’t know i could black out on three smirnoffs. He made fun of me for being a lightweight and continued to make light of the situation. Then he mentioned that i fell off the bed at some point in the night and that it was funny how drunk I was. I then questioned him. Because if he thought that me tripping and falling off the bed because i was so drunk was funny, how did he not know that i was too drunk? He responded by saying that i fell off the bed only after we were done. That day I broke up with him. I’m still really confused about what happened that night. I don’t remember anything and all I have to go on is what he said to me. We were in a relationship at the time and he says he didn’t know how drunk I was so I’m not sure what to call what happened. A while after that day, his friend that hmu while we were broken up and I started talking again and i confided in him about that night. He told me to be careful saying things like that because they could get me into trouble. I spoke to some of our other friends about it and they told me it was no big deal and that it wasn’t his fault that he didn’t know how drunk I really was. Because I don’t remember, I have been led to believe that this is not a serious matter. You can think what you want, come to whatever conclusions you want. That is just my side of the story.

I want to add that I’m not proud of how I acted after the relationship ended. I felt really angry at all the shit he put me through and I guess a part of me wanted him to hurt even a quarter of how I did. So I started talking to his friend and got involved with him. This backfired on me because his friend ended up really hurting me too so ig i got my karma. But the thing that hurt the most is that because of what I did, some of our friends took his side in the break up. I was told that I did something terrible by getting involved with his friend that he was already insecure about and that he didn’t deserve that. These are the same friends who were witness to the dumpster fire of a relationship we had and all the things he did to me. They turned their backs on me because of this one thing I did. But stood by and watched as he treated me like garbage for over a year.

I will conclude this by saying that while this relationship has been “over and done with” for almost two years now, I carry a lot of trauma from it still. I still talk about him in therapy and have had to put in a lot of work to heal from what he did and i still cannot say that i am okay. I am very blessed to now have a patient and understanding partner who has helped me heal from that trauma and i just want to quickly thank him for that. Nobody deserves to go through what I did. While yes, it was a toxic relationship, and I had a part in that, it does not excuse all the awful things he said and did to me. This is my truth, thank you for taking the time to read it.

[foldingfittedsheets]

No one made any distinction to me when I was growing up when a word wasn’t English. Andale was just another way to be told “hurry up,” and I was certain other parents told their kids, “Watch your cabesa,” when getting into the car. I laughed myself sick the first time I saw Dragon Ball Z because a ladies name was Chi Chi and I only knew that meant boobs.

All my moms family was brown and I desperately wished I was too. I wanted beautiful black hair like my mom and dark skin that didn’t burn. I didn’t like when people asked my mother if she was my nanny when they saw us together. I didn’t like that people told me I looked like my dad. They just meant I was pale.

I’d proudly announce to people that I was Mexican and become furious when they gaped or disbelieved me. My dads side has no cultural roots. When questioned my dad shrugs and says, “English maybe? I dunno.” I just wanted to be Mexican growing up. Alas, I’m only a quarter descendant of an immigrant family who vehemently didn’t want to be Mexican.

My great grandmother announced that we were American now, not Mexican. She embraced American culture as much as possible, while never learning English. My nana was put into school and punished anytime she spoke Spanish. She got caught halfway between both languages. Forced to spend her childhood raising her younger siblings she never learned to cook tamales with her mother and her friends.

When she had her own children she didn’t teach them Spanish. She used it to gossip with her own friends about them on the phone and resisted teaching them more than to come running when she shouted “Araña!” to kill a spider for her.

Thus came my mom, with her brown skin and dark hair, adrift from her culture but treated as lesser by her adopted one. My great grandmother would rejoice to see me as her descendant, white, ignorant of Spanish, the perfect American she wanted her family to be.

When I was born my nana shouted, “What’s that red on her?” only to realize it was my hair. She delighted in her palest grandchild, telling me often I was her favorite.

I’m used to the disbelief now when I tell people I’m Mexican. I can laugh and show pictures of my mom. My friend from work joked to me that I’m always coming out of the closet, over and over, because both my minority statuses aren’t as visible as her black skin.

I was recently lamenting this to a white southern friend the same one I cast psychic damage on during a DnD day. “I wish I could feel more connected to my culture, but I’d be such a fraud pretending my life is the same as other Hispanic people.”

“Skin color doesn’t matter,” he announced blithely to the choked outrage of our Indian friend in the kitchen, “You’re just as Mexican!”

I regarded him in astonishment and said, “I think skin color matters a lot. I am Mexican, but I don’t have the same cultural roots or experiences of people who are perceived as Mexican. My family didn’t pass the cultural heritage down. I think a lot of immigrant kids feel this way but it’s different for me.”

He rambled about how I’m just as valid and I quietly disregarded his advice. I could try to reconnect with my roots, but I know I’d just be another white girl pushing into a POC space.

Instead I make tamales by myself, sweating over the steaming corn husks, and I snap at people who make racist jokes about my family to me, feeling safe because my skin is the same color as theirs.

[ivystoryweaver]

Decadent chapter 8

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Summary: A peek into life as friends with Miguel

Pairings: Miguel O'Hara from the film Spider-Man: Across the Spider-Verse x female reader

Word Count: 2.2k

Warnings: cursing, brief reference to sex, mentions of blood, not beta'd.

PREVIOUSLY on Decadent...

Locking eyes with you one more time, he added, "And if you really care about me, help me. I don't want to be like this anymore. I don't want to hurt you anymore."

With that, he left you to your new position in your new office.

The best thing about Miguel "breaking up" with you (not that you were really together) was that you started to think about him only 23 hours a day instead of 24 hours a day.

In all seriousness, you started going out with your neighbor/girlfriend each weekend and made friends with a few co-workers, including a sweet, funny guy named Jackson. You grew accustomed to Lyla guiding you through daily tasks, and best of all, your aunt was planning to visit you soon.

You had expected all manner of awkwardness working with Miguel - be it from that prickly feeling of interacting with an "ex" or from the sexual tension that was prone to drive you wild. Everything continued the same in the lab - the two of you carrying on - as focused and professional as ever. And without returning to his office each afternoon, the temptation to engage in...other activities simply did not present itself. Well, maybe the temptation lingered, but the opportunity had evaporated.

That's not to say Miguel ignored you outside the lab. In fact, he made it a point to speak to you regularly - sometimes showing up at your office door (being sure to linger in the doorway). On the unique occasion he would venture inside, Lyla would surely accompany him.

Kind of like a really sassy chaperone.

Sometimes, when the two of you worked late, he would order food or even bring empanadas as a peace offering - which was where you found yourself tonight, devouring them in the break room.

"Miguel, these are so good," you mumbled, your mouth stuffed full. "Thank you so much - I was starving."

"You're welcome," he returned with a warm smile. Dark strands of his hair fell carelessly over one eye - his waves an unkempt, sexy mess by this hour. "I feel like it's been a while since we sat down like this. I thought maybe I would bribe you."

He winked and your heart did a somersault. Wetting your lips, you tried to keep yourself focused on what he was saying and not the way his muscled forearms flexed as he fed himself - the sleeves of his shirt rolled up to his elbows. Two or three buttons were unfastened, giving you a generous view of the expanse of his throat and chest.

"You never need an excuse to come see me, you know that," you finally managed, directing your attention back to the delicious food on your plate.

He nodded, taking a sip of his bottled soda. "Still...I don't see you as much as I used to. And I didn't trust myself to invite you over."

Your skin heated up as your eyes went wide.

"Sorry...shit, I'm sorry," he swiftly recovered, pushing his hand through his hair in what appeared to be slight embarrassment. "That wasn't...I'm not trying to - "

"It's okay," you softly returned, tentatively reaching for another empanada. "Sometimes I miss you too."

Eyeing you skeptically, he smirked. "I don't know. I think you just miss me cooking Mexican food for you."

"Miguel, how dare you," you gasped in mock offense. "I also love you for your homemade margaritas."

He laughed out, almost losing the piece of food he was chewing - a rare, not 100% sexy moment for a man like him.

Unfortunately, you found yourself staring at his mouth and then the strong column of his throat as he finished chewing and swallowing his bite.

"Careful. Don't choke," you teased, trying to distract yourself. It wasn't really working, because, aside from wanting to climb his massive body daily, you actually did still have feelings for him.

Which was why you had agreed to go on a date with Jackson. Or...a hangout? Maybe it wasn't a date. You guys were going spend some time together on Friday night.

''I'm okay," Miguel's voice interrupted your thoughts. After a few moments of contented silence, he asked after you.

"How are you doing, really? How's your aunt?" He sincerely queried, his eyes carefully trained on you, alive with warmth and sincerity. It felt good to have his undivided attention.

"She's good. Coming to visit soon. She wants to meet you," you responded, with a wry smile.

"Me?" He pointed innocently to his chest, his eyebrow shooting up. "Am I in trouble?"

You playfully shrugged, your nose crinkling delightedly. "Should you be?"

Narrowing his eyes, he chuckled. "Hopefully not."

The two of you finished your dinner, the synchrony you typically shared in the lab transferring over to the clearing and cleaning of dishes and trash in the break room.

"And what about you, Miguel?" You softly returned. "How are you feeling. Really?"

Noticing you had stopped to watch him carefully, he offered you a smile. "I'm good. I, uh...I've actually been drinking blood bags." Shaking his head, he winced as an errant strand of hair re-claimed the spot across his forehead. "It sounds so weird to say that out loud."

"How is that working for you? Are you...are you sure you're well?"

Noticing the concern shining in your eyes, he decided to be honest. Somewhat. "I feel a little weak, but...you know, I did listen to what you said. About not wanting me to kill anyone else or...bite anyone else. I'm trying."

Something deep within you bloomed to life as he made his confession. You weren't sure what to say because you didn't want to misstep and cause a fight. If Miguel needed to feed, you were more than happy to volunteer, as you had made abundantly clear. But he had pleaded with you not to ask him that again. So you wouldn't.

"I just want you to be okay," you softly admitted, peering up into his crimson eyes as you inched a little closer, but not so near that the heat of him might distract you any further. "I don't want you to do anything that will get you hurt, or sick. And not just for the sake of our research."

"I know," he answered, reaching out to squeeze your arm gently. It was the first touch he'd granted you in weeks.

The two of you finished your tasks and prepared to finish running another test before calling it a night. One he was back in lab-mode, Miguel dropped the personal talk, but he resumed once he started walking you out of the building.

"You know, maybe you should come over sometime," he casually offered, stealing glances at your profile. "I didn't show you the billiard room."

"The billiard room?" You gawked, picking up your pace to match his lengthy strides. "What is this, the Clue board game? You have a billiard room?"

He just smiled at you, amused, his eyes twinkling with a little mischief. "You play pool?"

"I guess," you laughed. "Could be fun."

Nodding determinedly, he pressed on. "All right, how about Friday night? Are you busy?"

Yikes. Date with Jackson. Or hangout with Jackson. Whatever.

"Uh. I am that night, actually. Busy, that is," you vaguely responded, hoping you wouldn't need to elaborate.

"Okay, then Saturday?" His slight insistence surprised and delighted you.

Your Saturday plans were more flexible, but...you did have plans with your neighbor. "Um...well..."

"Ahh, I see. No time for your boss," he kidded, affectionately nudging your much smaller arm with his massive one. "You have a date or something?"

You chomped down on your lip, trying to figure out what exactly to say. You wanted Miguel more than anything, but you were trying to make some sort of a life for yourself after he had rejected you so utterly.

"Wait...you do have a date - don't you?" The smooth timbre of his voice interrupted your musings.

"I have plans with Jackson," you slowly admitted, "to hang out."

Miguel stopped walking, turning to look down at you - his face serious, but otherwise, unreadable. "You have a date with Jackson? The Jackson who works for me? The short guy?" Emotions began to carve themselves onto his chiseled features and burrow their meanings deep into his eyes. One thick eyebrow curved judgmentally upward as the rest of his handsome countenance soured. His lips puckered so cutely, you wanted to kiss them.

"He's not short," you retorted with a chuckle, hoping he was only teasing. "It's just that you're ten feet tall, so everyone is shorter than you."

Placing his hands on his hips, he shifted from foot to foot uneasily. "When did this happen? You and him?"

Transfixed by the sight before you gave you pause. His profound interest in this date made your mind race. "Nothing happened. We're hanging out. I'm just trying to meet some new people."

Dragging his eyes over the curves of your body, Miguel noticed that the talons on his fingers had extended significantly. He had to concentrate to retract them before he shredded his dress pants where his hands rested on his hips.

A war raged inside him. He wanted to stop this before it happened. Maybe he could tell you that office relationships were prohibited - a rule the two of you had obliterated since you met. Maybe he could sweep you into his arms, swing you away from here on his webs, and kiss you. Probably a dick move.

Perhaps he could tell you the truth - that he was starving. That it physically hurt to deny himself blood at your request. That he kept his fangs (and every other part) out of any other woman because you told him you didn't want there to be anyone else, right before the last time he pushed himself inside you.

Or maybe he could say that he missed you - your smile, your laugh - the shit you would give him daily. And your body, writhing on top of him in the office, or falling apart underneath him in bed.

The thought of Jackson touching one hair on your head made his jaw clench with fury as his eyes flashed bright ruby. Perhaps this "date" was innocent, and the two of you would just hang out as friends. But you were beautiful and brilliant, and you knew what you wanted in bed. What was to stop you from enjoying yourself?

Pressing one fang into his bottom lip hard enough to draw blood, he turned away, running a hand over his face before starting to walk again.

You scurried along after him, trying to ignore the way his eyes traced every curve of your body, his gaze dripping with accusation and a touch of disdain. You kind of wanted to see if he would actually give you shit about this. And you had no doubt he was probably blowing off steam in his own way - if the rumors about his reputation were true.

So, in the rarest turn of events, you decided not to say anything. It would be so easy to pick a fight, challenge him, or act clueless, but that's all it would be - an act. And you were tired of all that shit. You wanted some honesty...and peace.

"I can take you home," he offered, knowing you normally used public transportation.

"No, it's okay, I'm used to it," you neutrally replied. No reason to be in his debt when you were struggling to discern his mood.

"It's late," he reasoned as the two of you made it out the main doors to the car awaiting him nightly. "I would feel better knowing you're safe."

With a nod, you decided to take him up on the offer. It would be a lot quicker, and technically safer than your usual mode of transport. And not only that - honestly, you just wanted to be in his presence for a little longer.

You climbed into the back as Miguel recited your address to his driver. Then he joined you. The leather seats were a lot more luxurious than anything on the train. Glancing around the car, you remembered the last time you were here. You were paralyzed and bleeding. Miguel had ruined you in his office, brutally fucking you three times with you tied down. He drank so much blood that you feared for your safety. Then he took you to his home in this very back seat.

"I hope you have a good time with him," he finally offered, clearing his throat after a long silence. Staring out the window, his jaw tensely shifted.

Turning your eyes over to view his handsome profile you softly sighed. "Thanks."

Feeling your gaze on him, he peered back at you, his eyes momentarily flickering down to your mouth, lingering there indulgently as he wet his own lips with his tongue. The filtered moonlight through the tinted window glass gave him an almost angelic glow.

Drawing a shuddering breath, you waited until his searing gaze met yours once more. Miguel leaned in slightly but was abruptly interrupted by a terribly loud and chittering message from Lyla.

You jerked back, startled, as Miguel quickly silenced his holographic assistant. "Sorry about that," he muttered, facing forward, his chest heaving.

"What was that?" You asked him, wondering why he looked so flustered. Lyla popped in all the time, although, in fairness, this interruption was a tad dramatic - sudden and noisy.

Noticing his jaw clenching again, you wondered if you would get the silent treatment. But he eventually did answer you.

"I programmed Lyla to...make sure I'm not a dick to you."

next->

@deputy-videogamer @toecurlingstories @zephyrixx @wordacadabra @juleshadalittlelamb @thexsanctuaryx @tsukkie-daisuke

[alatismeni-theitsa]

okay, i've heard you're one of the 'greek gods are white' people. how do you explain 'zeus athiops', considering linguistic research proved that's a word for what we now call Black. how do you explain drastically different depictions of the same deities in Syria and Lybia and more. how do you explain that a third of the pantheon have eastern roots. like girl... please get out of that mindset.

i think you need to legit drop that whole whiteness thing. it'd reductive as fuck, to us Europeans too. leave it to the people who made it, adhering to whiteness is just erasing heritages.

If that's what you got out of the discourse, you have a really USAmerican thinking pal, albeit not a USian. Or perhaps someone simplified this to you in this way and you took it word-by-word. Let me tell you what the discourse is actually about, and why there's a problem even when the Greek gods are depicted (for example) blue-eyed and blond, like N. Europeans.

It is about the treatment of pantheons by Western nations, a treatment with colonizing and imperialistic attitudes which separate the gods from their culture. A treatment that ignores depictions of a culture with an extremely large history and reduces it to distinctly Western and Anglophone pop-culture and Fandom.

Just because this happens to a nation which is considered generally light-skinned it doesn't mean it shouldn't alarm you. And the complaints of Greeks only alarm you when they address changes from lighter to significantly darker appearance, and not the opposite.

I bet you didn't send Greeks any hatemail when they were complaining about actors being too pasty and saying "This person doesn't even look like a Greek. More Irish. They even have an Irish accent…" We had this problem for centuries. N. Europeans had this super pale depiction of our gods which they considered "noble" and they saw actual Greeks are dark barbarians who are "not like the original Greeks". Now this type of projection is happening again, in order to make the West feel better, and we are actually told how we look and don't look.

Now we constantly hear "You are too light to be Greek"/"You don't look Greek" because another stereotype has settled among the powerful nations that control our image. Needless to say, this is negative too, just by the nature of being untrue, and harmful to Greek people. But this doesn't seem to worry you. You only worry when the West tells you to worry because now the cause is "noble" according to them. They never stopped seeing themselves as the righteous and noble ones. Fuck other cultures and their specific issues and histories, right?

Treating popular pantheons as a blank canvas will happen to more "races" and ethnicities when they start being considered "white" specifically in the US, our "beloved" planetarch nation. (There's already some discourse about Mexicans and Asians being the "new white"). In 50 years perhaps your grandchild will shout at a Mexican for not understanding why "it is okay" for the deity Tezcatlipoca to be depicted half-Chinese half-Nigerian.

The same thing happened to the Greeks. In many parts of the world, Greeks are still "non-white" and in the US we only recently became "white". The Middle Easterners and N.Africans are also "White" on paper. The Greek Whiteness is also only on paper, since the Westerners get the hickeys every time they hear our names, or see a part of our culture which so resembles the Middle Eastern ones. Or they clock us as Mexicans, Arabs, Turks etc. But I digress.

My point so far is that this Western approach, in its effort to be progressive, has used pantheons of foreign cultures in a way that it negates these cultures and their depictions, or their beliefs. (Something that I wouldn't call progressive)

Onto the depictions themselves. As you understand, me - and the overwhelming majority of Greeks - wants to maintain them. To this day, within the Greek culture I haven't seen depictions of native gods as - we would say today - Black. If we had some that would be okay. But we don't. I reckon, even other lands who got Hellenized didn't change the "race" of these gods. Sometimes they were alterations, yes, but to the point we are talking about a new deity, and certainly not a deity the Greeks would recognize or worship. Then we are not talking about Greek mythology, but mythology of other nations which, at some point, came in contact with the Greek culture.

But, again, it doesn't look like the Greek gods had different races in the depictions of other nations. Even today the Mediterranean and Middle Eastern nations don't racebend the gods. They see them as they are in the ancient depictions. Perhaps they indeed saw these gods looking a bit more like them but if you think Greek people and their neighbors (N. Africans, M. Easterners) belong to different races… you might want to check some racist notions you might hold.

"Aithiops" can mean "glowing" and "of burnt face". (αἴθω < πρωτοϊνδοευρωπαϊκή ρίζα *aidʰ- (φλέγω) = burn/on fire + όψη = face/look) It's an Epithet (an adjective) of Zeus on the island of Chios (Lycophron, Cass. 537, with the note of Tzetzes.). You can see where this island is and you may easily understand that it had more or less the same population as the rest of Greek areas, in which "Black" individuals were very rare.

But the most important thing is, we also haven't found a depiction of Zeus as a "Black" individual. If we had found a statue with the features of a "Black" man and the name Zeus underneath, I'd be happy to say "Some Greeks indeed saw Zeus as Black". I don't mind the "race", I mind how everyone gets in mental gymnastics to try and defend a lie just because it sounds progressive.

Perhaps in their minds this aspect of Zeus had the appearance of a Middle Eastern but... this is not what you call another race. Even today Greeks don't consider Middle Easterners and South Arabs a different "race". Also, as I said in the beginning, it could just mean "Glowing Zeus", like his face is glowing so much as if it is on fire. One word can have more than one use. The "αιθ-" root is also used about the sky, because it's glowing. The word Aether/Aitheras which we still use in Greece (αιθέρας/αιθέρες) refers to the skies. Maybe he had a "appearance/face like the sky"

Also, very important: Back then the region where the country of Ethiopia is today was called Abyssinia. The Greeks, in the period you're thinking about, probably had no contact with the land which today is Ethiopia. Aethiopia was a whole region, possibly the Middle East. (See the post here where many sources are gathered)

The first depiction of Andromeda, an Aethiopian princess as "Black" came from Ovid, who came much later and who is not part of the Greek narrative. He's also very unreliable because with his stories he wanted to oppose the status quo and therefore the mythological figures of his time. The Greek depictions have Andromeda and her family look more or less like Greeks. (Otherwise, they would have noted the difference in appearance)

Plus, Andromeda and Perseus birthed the nation of Persians. As you know, while there are "Black" Persians the population, in general, is not "Black". Plus, I am not even sure the Greeks had contact with the "Black" Persians because they are mostly extremely far south. Such a small population so down south it's not something to base the whole Look of a Nation on, at least.

It's the Northwesterners that always use the Mediterranean and Middle Eastern nations as an excuse to disrespect these depictions. (Meanwhile the Mediterranean and Middle Eastern nations don't agree with this. They never get ACTUALLY asked)

Not to mention, the changes the western nations make are not part of a cultural exchange and they don't happen naturally through cultural osmosis. It's plain theft and ownership over the gods of a foreign culture, which they have been doing for some centuries now. The Western cultures are dominant over the Greek one. We are towards the bottom of the ladder socioeconomically in Europe. The US is literally a puppet-master of the Greek nation (and many other nations). Our government can't even fart without checking with the US. Oh, and the US also helped the 70's Junta rise to power.

Lastly, the Greek gods don't have "Anatolian origin". This rhetoric (which again implies that ancient people of a region were all the same stock) has been refuted. Nobody "stole" gods from anyone. There are so many posts on these blogs about it. Greeks were also in Anatolia for 3.000 years before the genocide, so we are not even talking about separate regions. (But I know that you saw them as separate so I approached the argument the way you meant it)

There are common roots, common beginnings, perhaps but the difference grew so much that neighboring nations had distinct gods. They also believed that their gods were distinct. You have to respect that, and also you can't lump them all together because they "all look the same to you" or some sort of a similar mindset. The Greek gods are not interchangeable with the Assyrian gods etc.

One or two, like Dionysus, indeed were brought from outside. But most are considered native to the land. (Aphrodite, too, is native to the island of Cyprus) And the Greek gods are considered ethnically Greek. The Greeks considered themselves born by these gods. Each line had a god that gave birth to it or claimed to descend from a god. See more at the end of this great video: (Video with Timestamp) Again, the Greek gods are not ethnically Japanese, or ethnically Argentinian, or ethnically Norwegian. They come from a specific culture, with specific stories and appearances. You cannot imply otherwise without making all cultures a disservice.

You can see more discussions about this, including why the argument "But a minority must be represented!" kind of argument.

Some are a bit old but the general point is the same.

*In my language "Black" for a person is not exactly a positive term so it's in quotations. The term "race" is also extremely bad in Europe. I leave this disclaimer cause I know no one gives a shit if non-Anglophones must say slurs to convey a point, as long as we all speak the USAmerican way :) We also know that the individuals I am talking about weren't identifying as "Black".

[kookies2000]

Representation in films.

I've seen people debate about Spider-Man and The Little Mermaid. Which one has good representation? They both do but let me add in my thoughts. In short, Little Mernaid to me isn't a really a good example of representation while Spider-Verse does a phenomenal job. Let me explain.

Please note that this is my personal opinion.

Little Mermaid

Thoughts on a black Ariel? I say blind race casting is a good thing as long as it stays respectful to the culture. Don't cast a black girl as Mulan or an Asian girl as Moana. The Little Mermaid is a story that originated from Denmark by a Danish author named Hans Christian Andersen. Is it a story that represents Danish culture? I'm not 100% sure, but I do know it's supposed to be a love letter to a man to another man. As in, LGBT+ culture. It would've been cool if they casted some actors from the LGBT+ community. A bisexual or pansexual cast. Would've been a nice nod to the original work. In other words, I say a black Ariel isn't being racist towards white people. It's a mermaid, a creature people find beautiful, and beauty comes in all colors. So yeah, a black Ariel isn't racist. There's no true color of a mermaid, and I don't see it doing harm to Danish culture. If any Danish people are out there, please correct me if I'm wrong.

As for the representation! There's barely any. Ariel is black..........that's it. What's her story? It's the same as the white Ariel story. Are there any other black characters? Yeah, her dark skinned sister and Eric's adopted mom. Who has a total of 10 lines together, and 90% of those lines are from Eric's mother and one line from Ariels sister. Are there any other representations? Ariels sisters are a mix of Asian, whites, and Latinas. Good! What purpose do they serve in the story? Nothing. They're just there to look pretty and sell toys. They served no purpose to the story. Of course, using POC as a way to sell toys. Yeah, Ariel is the main focus, but it's still the same story as the white Ariel with slight modifications. Nothing new, and it's not exactly her story 100%. But this is my personal opinion. I just feel like the representation in this film is kinda underwhelming.

Spiderman Across the Spider-Verse

The representation here is beyond! The main character is an Afro Latino. Which is a HUGE deal to me as a Mexican. People forget that Latinos can be all colors. I worked at a Latino store where some employees didn't speak English. I had customers walk past brown skin me, to speak with an employee with white skin, blue eyes, and blonde hair. Or walked past me to speak to a black employee. They assumed I didn't speak English and went to someone who looked like they did. Only for those white/black employees to look at me for help because they infact ONLY spoke Spanish. The look on some customers' faces when they realize the brown one (or the Asian one in some cases) can speak English while the white and black ones can't. It's priceless. But yeah! An Afro Latino is a huge deal to me! And when people think of interracial couples, one always has to be white. While in this film, it's a black man and a Puerto Rican woman. And the parents play a big role in the film. The black father is kind-hearted and more strict with his son. The mother is kind-hearted as well and shows her son endless love. They play big roles in the story.

Side characters.

We have one white girl who has a fully fleshed out backstory. Her own story to tell, her own motive, her own name and title. And the leader of the group that'll rescue Miles.

We have three dark skinned black characters. Jessica Drew, a pregnant woman who is a mentor to Gwen Stacy and guides her. Hobie Brown is a punk styled hero who believes in anarchy and helps Gwen in her story. And is joining in the rescue mission to save Miles. Margo Kess is a genius student in science and technology and helps Miles escape. And is hinted at the end that she'll help rescue Miles.

We then have Prabhakar. An Indian Spider-Man who is very confident and narcissistic but is willing to help others from the goodness of his heart. He helps Miles and Gwen and is joining the rescue mission.

Miguel O'Hara. A Mexican man who is the leader of the Spider Society. He is highly intelligent and strong enough to protect his people and the universe. He made mistakes in the past, accidentally killed two worlds, and he now swears to protect all the other worlds. But he is losing sight of the true meaning of Spider-Man, making him a tragic antagonist.

And Peter Parker. The only white, straight if we don't count the Deadpool relationship in the comics, man. And he is portrayed as a loving father and guid to Miles.

Then, we have all the background characters. Penny is Japanese and she played a huge part in the first film. Helped Miles in defeating the villain. She has to go against her own friend and capture him. And by the end, she joins in on the rescue mission.

We then have characters in the background like a Muslim Spider woman. A Spider Girl in a wheel chair. That's some insane representation. And each character has a story of their own. They aren't a copy of the original white Spider-Man. They have their own stories to tell, their own personalities, their own names, and titles.

And they don't stop there. They actually have their characters speak Spanish. They have Hobie Brown talk in his accent and say phrases from his culture. Didn't Penny speak Japanese at one point? It's nice to see the characters embrace their cultures.

Conclusion

The Little Mermaid is indeed a great story, and people deserve to see themselves in their favorite princess. That's beautiful. But blind race casting is the BARE MINIMUM when it comes to representation. While films like Spider-Verse actually try to represent the culture they're showing. Both movies do have representation in their own way, but again, blind race casting is the bare minimum.

Ps, this is my personal opinion on these films. I don't want to hate on any film or ruin it for others. I just like to analyze films and their messages.

[amberarmedheart]

The Color Of Makeup

It had always been difficult for me to find the proper color of foundation that goes with my skin color. Whenever I used to go to the stores, back in the early 2000s when i started high school and I had learned the hard way how cruel the world can be, they never ever had my shade. One store after another, one counter after another, and I simply couldn't find them... in the usual markets, that is.

If I wanted more affordable, regular brands, they never carried my shade. But if I really, really wanted to match it, I had to go to an expensive department store to actually get the exact shade that didn't make me look ashy or weird.

And from the very first moment, I was fine with it. Why? Well, it is quite simple: I am pale as an uncooked flour tortillas and I am a Mexican living in Mexico.

It was obvious to me that the usual supermarkets didn't carry my shade, the percentage of the population that has my exact skin color is quite small, so of course it would be difficult for me to find it. My grandparents, after all, were a wild mix: Mexican, Spanish, Chinese, and French. Why the hell did the genetic lottery decide I was to be born with a white pale butt, I will never know. Yes, my dad was white, but my mother has brown skin, and so did two of my grandparents, and then there was my grandmother with a French last name and green eyes and platinum blonde hair.

What bothered me since I was a kid was the fact that I looked around and most people around me had brown skin and yet, whenever I looked at a magazine, an ad, a movie or a tv show, everyone there was white, nine times out of ten. It bothered me whenever some of my aunts would start describing someone as "oh she is so pretty, you know, she is white and blonde and..." and how some of my uncles would say "of course you wouldn't want your daughter to date a black man"... and every single time, those aunts and uncles with the most racist views ended up having dark skin themselves.

I don't know how, in the middle of such a harmful environment, both of my parents managed to have an entirely different perception of the world, but I am grateful for it. And yet, I know that a lot of the hate and anger that my extended family expressed towards other people due to the color of their skin had a lot to do with the messages that the media taught them since they were children. How difficult it must be for a child to grow loving the way they look when the tv and movies always say that dark skinned people are the bad ones and even the church will portrait angels as blonde.

And yet, the idea that "the others" are "scary, different, dangerous" is always perpetuated by major pieces of media: the most recent one, at least in my sphere of interests, is Genshin Impact, which recently released a teaser trailer for a new region called Natlan. This region has been mentioned as one that draws inspiration from Latin America and Africa... and the darkest skinned character in it looks like me after ten minutes under the desert sun.

"It is a fantasy game, why should it be accurate?" some person who knows exactly why asks in bad faith in social media, to which you and I both know that if there is a damned playable dog boy, they can add at least three more drops of brown to their palette.

"Why can't you empathize with characters that don't have the same skin color as you?" asks someone else with an ai generated profile picture and a cross and a flag emojis following their nickname, to which I say: why can't you? 99% of the characters portrayed in the media you consume are the exact same ethnicity as you, and every single time someone slightly different appears, you will scream "DEI! Woke! They are ruining everything!" The rest of the world has had to swallow every single "white savior" piece of media up to this day, why can't you stop spitting for once, there's half a child there you know, I thought you were against abortions.

"It is only being inspired!" someone else screams, red faced, into the void, to which I say that if you are taking name and surname from a deity to represent said deity and the color motifs and tattoos and even reference their powers but the only thing you don't take from them is their skin color, that's colorism.

Next thing I know, Hoyoverse will try to copyright the Mayans, you know, like Disney tried to copyright Dia De Muertos back before it released Coco.

I am old and exhausted about life as it is, I am tired of the constant cycle of fear that politicians and multinational companies use everywhere to divide the people, draw targets on each others' backs and then point and scream "they are the reason you are suffering, not me, never me!". I am tired of people swallowing it up because it is way easier to punch someone "different" to a pulp than recognize that both of us have the same enemy and the same source of suffering and that what we should do to fix this mess requires of a lot more effort than picking one color in a ballot every four years.

[literatureatthebowofnails]

A/N: Apologies for another long wait. I thought I was going to post a few days ago, but my muse insisted the final scene I'd written was insufficient. It has since been remedied. I love you like Cap loves America!

Series masterlist

Pairing: Loki x reader

Warnings: Smut, drinking

Summary: Our couple takes their first trip together

Cherry blossoms drift lazily downward as you nibble cheese and sip champagne from lemonade bottles. Lounging on your picnic blanket, you watch goslings paddle after their parents beneath Bow Bridge. A scurry of juvenile squirrels dashes up trunks and around branches, disturbing a woodpecker in search of his lunch.

"I have something for you," Loki says as you bite into a slice of apple. A wrapped box appears near your lap with a green glow.

"Oooo," you pull back the paper, opening it to reveal a black and green bikini. "What's this for?"

"I've booked us a trip to Cozumel for your Memorial Day weekend," he grins.

☕

You step off the plane and into the warm Mexican sunshine. A salty breeze toys with your skirt and hair as you follow Loki down to the tarmac. Within an hour, you're checked-in, unpacked, and carrying your beach bag to the shore.

The picturesque Caribbean laps at the white sands and you settle into a lounge chair. A mariachi band plays on a low wooden stage, accompanied by the occasional trills and squawks of vibrant birds.

You methodically apply your sunscreen as the dark-haired prince stretches his long limbs out beside you. A cabana boy takes your order and returns with fresh margaritas and a plate of lime-caressed papaya.

"Could you?" you ask, looking over your shoulder at the lounging god.

"Of course, darling," he takes the bottle. "Why don't you lie down."

You adjust the seat to rest on your stomach, cradling your chin against your arms. Loki kneels beside you in the sand, his fingers expertly searching out every kink and knot as he massages the creamy protection into your skin. "Mmmm," you let out a pleasured groan. "That feels good."

"This is nothing compared to what I have planned for you," he grins, giving you a kiss before recapping the bottle.

☕

As the sun slips below the horizon, you return to your room. Flip-flops kicked off at the door, the beach bag tossed on the bed, and Loki is at your back as you reach the shower. He tugs the string around your neck, revealing your chest as you switch the water on. You turn to face him and untie the other bow, letting the top fall on the tile.

He cups your breasts, grazing over your nipples as you back him into the vanity. You shudder at the sensation and lean in to suck his lower lip between your teeth. Your thumbs slide beneath the elastic at his waist. His cock springs to attention as his trunks join your top on the floor.

"Mmm," he nips your neck. "I do love it when you're needy, darling."

"Oh, do you?" you roll down your bottoms, kicking them free of your ankles. "Prove it."

In an instant he scoops you up, pinning you against the cold shower wall. Hot water rains over you, dousing your hair and running rivulets along his chest and abs. A large hand protects the back of your head as he crashes against your lips, groaning when you grasp his pulsing need.

He thrusts against your palm, a hand kneading your breast. Sinking down, he takes a nipple in his mouth. Your back arches, one hand against the marble, the other in his hair.

He pinches your nipples, rolling them between his digits and continues his trail of kisses down your front as you keen. His head shifts lower, his mouth reaching the crease of your legs. They part for him without thought and he nuzzles against your mound, inhaling the scent of you.

He pulls a leg over his shoulder and grips your thigh, delving ravenously between your folds, lapping at your juices, sucking at your lips and clit until your knee buckles. A whine of his name builds in your throat, the hand on your breast the only thing keeping you vertical as your fingers wind tight in his raven locks.

You buck into him, and his digits find your entrance, slipping past and curling until you give a stifled scream. Your orgasm crashes over you in waves. As it subsides, he keeps them buried in you, slowly pumping and scissoring.

He stands, spreading long fingers to guide his girth between them. You gasp as you stretch around him, the slick of your release easing his entrance as he gives a few shallow thrusts.

He pulls your knees over his elbows one at a time, each defined muscle flexing under his glistening skin has you fluttering around him. You slide your hands around his neck and up into his hair, pulling his head back to nip his collarbone. He hisses at the sensation, setting an emphatic rhythm as you moan against his neck.

Heat floods your core, and you feel the tug like a rollercoaster drop. You press your head against the tile, cunt pulsing and spasming as another orgasm rolls through you. His name topples from your lips over and over until you're out of breath, shuddering and babbling.

"You're so..." he gasps, "...beautiful when you cum for me, darling." He continues to pound into you, letting down one of your legs to thumb circles over your clit. "I've never heard a prayer as sweet as the way..."

"Lokiiii!" you scream as another high crashes down upon you.

"Ex-exactly," he stutters your name, jutting into you erratically as his jaw clinches.

You feel the satisfying swell of him just before his seed coats your walls. He gives a few more thrusts and lets your leg down to pull you into a fiery kiss. With a last, sharp tilt of his hips, he pulls out. "Thank you for coming down with me darling. I can't imagine a better way to spend the weekend."

Taglist: @peaches1958, @javagirl328, @loopsisloops, @goblingirlsarah, @buttercupcookies-blog, @lovelysizzlingbluebird , @cakesandtom, @ladymischief11, @km-ffluv, @coldnique, @glitterylokislut, @eleniblue, @lokiprompts, @lokisgoodgirl

Let me know if you’d like to be added to the taglist

Next part

Main masterlist

[the-unexplained-orb]

Whispers in the Dark: Uncovering the World’s Most Terrifying Urban Legends

“Urban legends are a reminder that truth is often stranger than fiction.”

Remember when we used to hear myths and urban legends as children? We used to be both terrified and fascinated by it. As kids, we used to wonder: Do they exist? Are the myths true?

However, urban legends exist all over the world, and we’ve scoured the globe to find the eeriest and most pervasive ones, from the haunting, spine-chilling stories of La Llorona in Mexico to a half-deer humanoid wendigo living in the depths of Native American cold forests.

1. The Black-Eyed Children

In the late 1990s there was an urban legend of the Black Eyed Children . It revolves around children or teenagers who approach people’s homes or vehicles seeking help or permission to enter, but their most notable feature is their solid black eyes without any pupils or sclera.

Most reports of encounters with black eyed children involve feelings of intense fear and dread. Those who have interacted with them describe a sense of overwhelming danger and a feeling that they are not human. Some claim that the black eyed children emit a strange, low-frequency hum or emit a foul odor. 

One of the most well-known encounters occurred in 1998, when a journalist named Brian Bethel claimed to have encountered two black eyed children in Abilene, Texas. Bethel reported that the children appeared at his car window, asking for a ride home, but he was overcome with a sense of fear and fled the scene.

“ Both boys stared at me with coal-black eyes. The sort of eyes one sees these days on aliens or bargain-basement vampires on late night television. Soulless orbs like two great swathes of starless night. My fear must have been evident. The boy in the back wore a look of confusion. The spokesman banged sharply on the window as I rolled it up. His words, full of anger, echo in my mind even today: ‘We can’t come in unless you tell us it’s OK. Let us in! ’ ” —Brian Brethel on Abilene Reporter News

2. The Wailing Woman

The weeping woman often described as a woman in the mid 20s dressed in white haunts the rivers and streets of Mexico, searching for her children and crying out in anguish .The locals have described it as ‘The La Llorona ’ . It was used to scare the children so that they dont wander in the streets at night .

The story goes by a beautiful mexican lady fell in love with a man of high status . they married had kids an was living a happy life when one day the man left her for another woman . In a fit of jealousy and rage, Maria drowned her children in a nearby river. When she realized what she had done, she was filled with remorse and grief, and she began to wander the streets and riverbanks crying out for her lost children. She was said to have been heard wailing, “Ay, mis hijos!” (“Oh, my children!”) . It is said that she was cursed and was denied to enter the gates of heaven and now she wanders as a spirit looking for her children .

3. The Wendigo

The wendigo is often described as a tall, thin creature with matted hair and glowing eyes. It is said to have long arms and legs, and its skin is stretched tightly over its bones. Some legends also describe the wendigo as having antlers or horn .

It has been the subject of countless stories, songs, and works of art over the years. The wendigo is often portrayed as a malevolent and dangerous creature that preys on humans. In 2019, a man in Quebec claimed that he had been attacked by a wendigo while out hunting. He stated that the creature had glowing eyes and a thin, skeletal body. According to the man, the wendigo knocked him to the ground and attempted to bite him before he was able to fight it off.

“We were sitting around the fire when we heard this really strange noise. It sounded like something was breathing heavily, almost like it was right behind us. When we turned around, we saw this tall, thin creature with glowing eyes. It was watching us, and then it just disappeared.” — locals in Minnesota .

4. The New Jersey Devil

The legend of the New Jersey Devil dates back to the 18th century, when it was said to be the offspring of a woman named Mother Leeds. According to the legend, Leeds cursed her 13th child to be a devil, and the creature was born with wings and supernatural powers.

The New Jersey Devil is often described as a winged creature with a horse-like head, hooves for feet, and a forked tail. It is said to be about the size of a large dog or small deer. There have been numerous reported sightings of the New Jersey Devil over the years, particularly in the Pine Barrens region. In 1909, there was a wave of sightings that made national news. People reported seeing a creature with glowing eyes and wings that flew over their homes and farms.

“We were driving through the woods at night when we saw something in the road. It was a creature with wings and a horse-like head. We were too scared to get out of the car.” — Reported sighting from a group of teenagers, 1995

In conclusion, urban legends have been a part of human culture for centuries, and they continue to fascinate and terrify people around the world. From the Wendigo and Slenderman to the New Jersey Devil, these legends tap into our deepest fears and anxieties, often providing a cautionary tale or moral lesson. While some legends may have a basis in reality, most are purely fictional and serve as a form of entertainment or a way to explain the unexplainable. Despite their often gruesome and terrifying nature, urban legends are an enduring part of our cultural heritage and will likely continue to be passed down from generation to generation.

[untilthenextencore]

Of Hopes & High Grace Pt. 1: Clearly: Up in the Canyons~...

~

~

Laurel Canyon, 1965~

Walking up the driveway into the house, from his tour around the grounds by the house's owner, Jimmy let his eyes scan the room. Turning left, he saw his date for the evening Jackie sitting in the pit - a sunken floor & seating area - chatting with one of their friends. He had come to the party with her that day. Jackie had been something of a regular or semi-regular presence in his life. They'd been on & off for a few months since working together both on her music, songs for others like Marianne Faithfull, or even his own attempts at solo work. Though the less said about that single, the better he figured now.

Turning right & taking a sip of his drink as he tried to clear that from his mind, he saw a bunch of kids dancing in the center of the living room. They weren't really kids, actually. Most looked about his age from what he could tell. They twisted & moved in front of large double glass doors that looked out on quite a view of the city below. The setting sun streamed in through the windows, starbursting over the dancing kids. One in particular caught his eye.

She was in a slim fitting sheath dress with a scoop neckline & a mottled shimmery watery blue & lagoon green print. The dress skimmed what he could surmise was a very alluring figure. Long dark hair flowing loose around her shoulders, tawny skin, a hint of cat's eye eyeliner framing two deep brown eyes. Full rosy cheeks. Even fuller berry rose lips. She laughed & clapped & spun about with an older male friend as the guitar in the song trilled.

Try as he might, Jimmy couldn't tear his eyes from her. She was lively. Spirited. Drop dead gorgeous. He simply had to get her name.

Nudging his host for the evening, he motioned to the dark sylph dressed in siren's blue & asked. "Who's she, mate?"

His host Tony turned to peer in her direction before smiling. "Ah, her? That's Mariella. She lives up here. Bought a house on Appian Way not too long ago. Made a few papers. Rather young for being a homeowner, she. Teenage homeowner. You know how papers eat that stuff up."

Jimmy nodded at that. He knew all too well. So she was a teenager, was she?

Tony explained further. "But she's more known for her music."

"Sings, does she?" Jimmy asked with a sip of his drink.

"Like an angel!" Tony nodded. "Though she sings mostly in Spanish. Mexican music & the like. Her father is a singer, too. A famous one in his field. Carlos Ignacio Alamilla. She sometimes used to tour with him. Now she goes between performances with him & her own local club gigs."

"I see..." Jimmy nodded, mulling over the many ways their similar lines of work might give him an in with her. "Mind introducing me then?"

To his surprise, Tony laughed.

"What's so funny?" Jimmy asked, half annoyed, half confused.

"Nothing. Except I feel I must warn you. You being new here & all you probably don't know. She's not too forthcoming with new people. Her father is extremely protective of her, with her being his only daughter. And even if you get past him, there's no promise you'll get anywhere with her. The running joke is that while most everyone's first word was "mama," hers was likely "no."

Jimmy snorted.

"It's true. Not to say she's mean. Just very careful in meeting new people. Wary even. Once you get to know her... If you get to know her... Once you get close... If you get close... You'll find she's a delight... Sweet girl... Just very shy I guess... Impossible not to love her, that one..."

"I see..." Jimmy breathed those words in a dragon's puff of cigarette smoke.

A delight...

Sweet girl...

Shy girl...

Indeed...

What's not to love?...

Jimmy contemplated everything he was told with another puff of his cigarette before asking it & announcing with a wry grin in yet another dragon's puff. "Well, now I have to meet her now don't I?"

"Alright." Tony drawled, placing a hand on Jimmy's shoulder. Don't say I didn't warn you. And don't be surprised if she's not as forthcoming with you. It takes her awhile to warm up." With that he led the way as he & Jimmy weaved their way through the crowd.

Each undulating body seemed to serve as a fluttering curtain. A momentary eclipse. All of it making it so as they neared Jimmy saw her move in sections. In snapshots. Rotoscope images that burned & swirled in his brain, searing themselves into the grey matter. Each fleeting glimpse only serving to intrigue & tantalize him more. The time it took for them to cross the few feet's distance they had to traverse, feeling like one long scene in slow motion. The music falling into silence. The silence cut only by the sound of his blood thumping in his temples. His heartbeat pounding like a drum of war.

Jimmy's mouth went suddenly dry. He swallowed hard. He could be wrong but he swore that lump he felt in his throat, if it wasn't his Adam's apple, might've been heart-shaped.

Just then, Tony's voice cut into his train of thought, slicing through the thumping silence. "Hey, Mariella."

Black hair fanned out as she whirled to face them cutting her dance short, before coming to rest framing her face as she turned.

Lovely face, Jimmy thought.

A look of confusion crossed her features before her eyes lit up in recognition. "Tony! There you are! I was wondering where you had gone off to!" She spoke in a bright voice colored with an indeterminate accent. "I knew you were here but I didn't see you. How are you?" She asked with a hug.

Perhaps, this would be easier than Tony said it would.

"Just fine, doll. And clearly you seem to be enjoying yourself too. Great mix of songs you brought this time as always!" Tony smiled & returned the hug warmly. "I've been looking for you too by the way. I have someone I want to introduce to you. He's a friend of mine."

"Oh?" She looked up at him with a curious pout.

"Mariella Alamilla may I introduce one of the latest English imports to hit our shores, A Mister James Patrick Page." Tony motioned to Jimmy, snickering at his own overly florid introduction.

She, Mariella, turned to face Jimmy, regarding him with the same curious pout. Indeed there was a touch of wariness edging those eyes as they scanned him guardedly. The young girl stayed close to Tony, anchoring herself to him amidst this stranger before her.

Now was the time.

Jimmy gave her his best disarming smile & extended a hand. "Pleasure to meet you. Call me Jimmy. And may I say you have a phenomenal taste in music. What's the name of the song if I may ask?"

"Pleasure's all mine I'm sure." Her voice was cool & soft as she placed her smaller hand in his lightly. Feathersoft. Fleeting, hesitant contact. None of that brightness & effusiveness that had been so evident in her chat with Tony. "And thank you. It's one of my favorites. It's called "El Boogie de la Guitarra" by Los Crazy Boys. Mexican Rock. Tony likes me to bring some music by artists he and the gang might not have heard of." She explained in a polite yet matter of fact tone.

Mariella had undergone a sudden transition. She went from alive & incandescent to hushed & removed. Her light still shone but now it flickered like a candle in a breeze. A light in the window of a tower, or at a high altar. Still burning. Still present. Still bright. Yet just out of reach. So near & yet so far.

So Tony was right after all! He WAS gonna have to work with this one. Interesting...

Bringing her hand to his lips he kissed the back, eliciting a jolt, soft gasp & the slight widening of eyes.

At least he could get some kind of reaction out of her. A delicious one at that.

Fighting a grin at the sight of her trying to reel in her reactions so & giving a soft curtsy in semi-formal / semi-playful response to his florid actions, he continued. "I hear from Tony you're in the music game too."

"Yes." She replied, still soft yet pointed. "I sing with my father at times & at other times do my own thing."

"Which is?..." Jimmy asked, maintaining his hold on her hand despite the momentary soft pull he felt. She attempted to retract her hand after the kiss, clearly expecting that to be it. Clearly, it wasn't though. And so her hand remained in his, his thumb rubbing the kiss-printed back as the rest of his hand swallowed hers whole & kept it there. Jimmy meanwhile did his best to distract her from this fact by adding. "Tony told me you sing Mexican music?"

"Yes." She nodded, swallowing hard herself. Clearly she was trying to ignore her nerves. Trying to ignore or quell the tremble in her hand that was locked in his. A fact he clearly reveled in. "I sing Mexicana with my older brother, father and his band. Banda. Boleros. Mariachi. That sort of thing. When on my own I sort of mix that with an indie kick. Maybe a little jazz. Maybe a little rock. Maybe something else. It all depends on my mood." Lifting her gaze from her hand in his & pinning him with a look that was at once both curious & cutting, she asked. "Do you sing too, Jimmy?"

He & Tony shared a knowing laugh. "Not really I'm afraid. I plan to stick to the guitar & maybe my art otherwise."

Tony nodded, explaining simply. "Jimmy went to art school before things really kicked off for him. He's now one of the most in demand session guitarists there is, doll!"

Jimmy did his best not to blush at the compliment. He didn't want to be too conspicuous. Though he had been content to remain silent up to this point, Jimmy saw that Tony's eyes had volleyed from Jimmy himself to Mariella and back like he were witness to the most captivating tennis match ever.

"Really now?" Jimmy heard the first lilt in her voice in what had been quite awhile. The light in her eyes flickered anew. The corner of her sweet mouth lifted as she asked. "That seems to be quite a frequent occurrence. Tell me, Mr. Page, do all you Englishmen flock to art school before you hit the music scene?"

Both he & Tony laughed again. "Boy if it don't seem like that sometimes, huh?" Tony nudged Jimmy, grazing him with an elbow to the ribs.

"Yeah it does. A lot of us sure seem to but it's not like a dead set rule or anything." Jimmy smiled as he met her gaze. His laughter crinkled eyes were met with a gaze that was still just as inscrutable as it was penetrating even as little flames of mirth danced in her eyes & in the corners of her soft, wry smile.

Where had he seen such a look before?

He couldn't put a finger on it.

Shaking out of that thought, he added with a soft pat to her hand, still locked in his, with his free one. "In any case I do hope I'll get the honor and pleasure to hear you sing while I'm here."

"Maybe you will." Tony smiled.

Though Jimmy's gaze hardly left Mariella, Jimmy could still catch the barest glimpse of him signaling to someone off to the side.

Another soft curtsy by the young lovely in the blue dress followed, recapturing Jimmy's full attention. "I hope you still find it such a pleasure afterwards if you do."

Jimmy was sure he'd indeed find her such a pleasure.

In more ways than one.

Just then Jimmy found his attentions pulled to his side as a certain familiar blonde, curled her way around him, linking arms with him.

It was Jackie.

"Jimmy..." She drawled, snapping her gum sharply. "Where've you been. I've been looking everywhere for you. And who's this?" He saw her eyes scan Mariella warily.

Mariella for her part barely flinched. Her features hardly changed. One eyebrow lifted in the barest perk as her head tilted slightly. "Nice to see you again, Jackie. How've you been? Haven't seen you since the last music show we did together. Hope you've been well." Her voice was as ever cool, controlled & polite. Where some would fight fire with fire, she clearly preferred to ice out the flames entirely. And rather aptly at that. Smooth.

"Oh hi, Jackie. Tony was just showing me around & introducing me to people." Jimmy explained as coolly as possible.

"I see..." She cast a nonplussed look his way before turning to regard the dusky brunette once more. "Ah, Marie-Ella..." Jackie cooed, breaking her name up in some sort of southern double name special like her own government name was. "I'm so sorry. I didn't realize it was you!" Her voice was super sweet as she laid it on as thick as honey. Though try as she might she still came off as something a little short of genuine in her apology & attempts to ingratiate.

Had she always been this cloying?, Jimmy thought.

"Long time no see indeed!" Jackie giggled. "How's the eighth grade? Or is it ninth now? It's been such a long time I just can't keep track."

It was then that Jimmy & Mariella's hold on each other broke.

Eighth grade?

Ninth?

What was that in terms of forms again?

Jimmy cast a stunned look at Mariella who just shrugged.

"Actually I'm in high school now, thanks for asking." She replied matter of factly. Calm. Cool. Collected. Sweet & smooth. "How's the school of life treating you, Jackie? Well, I hope." There went that soft yet inscrutable stare.

Jackie just scoffed & smacked her gum again. "Well enough thanks." Then tugging on Jimmy's arm, she announced. "Jimmy let's go. I have some people I want you to meet."

Before he could think to respond with more than a mere. "Wait, Jackie. Wait..." Mariella gave him a playful salute with two fingers to her temple.

"See you around then. Bye you two."

And with that, she & Tony disappeared into the crowd as Jackie pulled him away.

~

As ever this is forever under construction~!

Hope you guys enjoy~!

[bthearst]

Book Review

WHAT MOVES THE DEAD by T. Kingfisher

Genre: Gothic Horror, Fantasy, Classic Retelling, LGBT

Rating: 5/5 mushrooms

It was my inability to remember names that led me to discover T. Kingfisher’s What Moves the Dead, while looking up ‘who wrote Mexican Gothic’ back in September. The cover art caught my attention on the “Users Also Search For” segment of the webpage—a beautifully haunting illustration of a hare embraced by a series of mushrooms. I made note of it, promptly forgot about it, only to come across it once again when looking up yet another Gothic title. This time, I logged into my local library’s portal and placed a hold on the novella the moment I saw they had a copy on hand.

Going into What Moves the Dead, I knew nothing of it other than it was a Gothic Horror involving mushrooms. Two months after coming off reading Silvia Moreno-Garcias’ Mexican Gothic, a book that very quickly became an all-time favorite thanks to my love for the genre and the delightful inclusion of Hispanic representation, I was intrigued by this wave of fungi-based nightmares. Part of me worried that it would be too similar, that because I had already read something with multiple tropes and themes in common that I would be impervious to the frights in store.

I am bone-deep pleased to say that I was wrong.

A reimagining of Edgar Allan Poe’s The Fall of the House of Usher, What Moves the Dead tells the story of Alex Easton, an ex-soldier who receives a letter from their old friend Madeline Usher. In the letter, Madeline begs Easton to come visit as her twin brother believes that she is dying from a mysterious illness. Easton, having been Roderick Usher’s commanding officer during the war, feels obligated to do so. The first chapter not only introduces us to Lieutenant Easton and their very sassy horse Hob, it also provides a bleak introduction to the ominous Usher Mansion, and the tarn that haunts it.

Skipping ahead, I read the author’s acknowledgments at the end of the book where she explains that the inspiration for this novella came from her revisiting Poe’s story and wishing there had been more to it. This worried me since the whole deal with Gothic Horror is the deliberate avoidance of giving away too much. I wholly understand that this is a personal preference, but I prefer it when my horrors are vague. The imagination will always be more powerful than the words on a page or the images on a screen, which is why fear truly manifests itself once the book or movie is over and we’re alone, in the dark, in our beds.

Not only was that worry unnecessary, but I was served a masterclass in storytelling in just 158 pages.

I will not give away too much but the “culprit”, to give it a name, becomes apparent pretty early on, and Kingfisher does a hare-raising good job at using that knowledge against the reader. The knowing makes for a visceral experience, makes the realization slowly sink in and stick beneath the layers of one’s own skin to the point that the reader is forced to become aware of their own lungs. The reader knows what can happen, and then it does happen, and then it gets pushed so beyond the boundary of one’s expectations that putting down the book for a couple of moments becomes an absolute must.

And that, my friends, is some good fucking horror.

Now, this masterclass did not end there. As I previously mentioned, What Moves the Dead is a novella. It’s short, sweet, to the point, and while I desired with my whole soul for this to have been an epic, I’m glad that it wasn’t. Because of its length, none of the characters overstay their welcome, and Alex Easton will stay with me for a very, very long time. Because, while Mexican Gothic delivered on that sweet Latine rep, What Moves the Dead delivered the most unexpected of representation for a piece set in 1890:

[…] Denton likely thought that a sworn soldier would be a seven-foot-tall Amazon with one breast cut off and a harem of cowed men under kan heel. […] He was likely not expecting a short, stout person in a dusty greatcoat and a military haircut. I no longer bother to bind my breasts, but I never had a great deal to worry about in that direction, my batman sees that my clothing is cut in proper military style. – What Moves the Dead, pg. 17

This is the part where I stopped, re-read the passage, picked up my phone, and yelled at everyone who would listen. Our protagonist is nonbinary, and the surge of euphoric delight that short-circuited my brain has kept me going for the past three days. 

Gallacia, much like Ruritania, is a fictional country with its own language and cultural rules. Here, people who are not career soldiers can become sworn soldiers: soldiers who could not enlist by traditional means and are sworn in by personal choice. The Gallacian language has multiple sets of pronouns outside of he/she and el/ella, including pronoun sets specifically used for “children, rocks, and even God”. Soldiers have a single set of pronouns as there is no binary within the Gallacian military, but once the war ends, soldiers go back to using whichever pronouns were theirs before. Easton explains in the utmost sensible fashion that once the war was said and done, they simply did not feel the desire to shed the genderless set of pronouns they had taken on.

Not only are they nonbinary, they go by neopronouns. I cannot stress enough how well this was handled within the context of the narrative, where an American character with no prior exposure to sworn soldiers is deftly introduced to them, and takes it in stride with the grace of a medical professional. While it’s not all picturesque fields and easy walks, with instances of characters mistaking Easton for a man, which they then explain that it is somewhat easier to accept than being taken for a woman (complicated gender feels, I get it), the entire idea is succinctly and masterfully incorporated in a way that does not come off as jarring for the reader.

In short, What Moves the Dead is a book I will return to time and again. It is evidence that genre mixing works, that diversity works, that laying a clear path of well situated foreshadowing works. It’s gorgeous, it’s witty, it’s modern despite its setting, it’s accessible, and it elicits genuine feelings of horror and compassion. 

I recommend getting comfortable once the sun has set, wearing a fuzzy pair of socks and a hot drink one of these cold winter nights, and losing yourself to the sharp prose and phantasmagorical imagery that Kingfisher has exquisitely delivered.

Trigger warnings for What Moves the Dead include: animal death and mutilation.

[f-adan]

Updates to the design and history of my Sombra Lunar OC

(Old version of my Sombra Lunar OC)

I recently made updates to the armor design of my Sombra Lunar character, it was something I wanted to do for a long time

I started with the helmet, what I try to keep is that the visor looks like a half moon, and I am between adding more details and no, this is what I have for now

Next a preview to the "bracelets"? , (I don't know if they have another name) from the Sombra Lunar armor

Basing myself a bit on artie_stico's interpretation, (X's profile, formerly Twitter), of a commission that I asked him for a long time ago

Part of the design is that apart from having a "mini-machine gun" and it could also deploy a "laser dagger" or just a dagger*

For the skin update I would remove that weapon option and just leave the mini-machine guns, this because I want him to use a type of bladed weapon, so I'm considering giving him a pair of sai or a katana or both.

*This information can be consulted in the old profile of Sombra Lunar, before ´´Sombra Shorai´´), in DA - https://www.deviantart.com/f-adan/art/NDC-Sombra-Shorai-661360984

Continuing with the update of Sombra Lunar's armor, I move on to what I consider one of the most remarkable elements of its design, its skates.

(Also based on artie_stico's interpretation of a commission that I asked him for a long time ago)

Following the Sombra Lunar armor update, the rest of what covers his body, this is where there were a little more changes

Starting with the fact that I had to redesign his shield, his emblem

An element that I always missed to include in her original design is that of a mini jetpack, (with crescent-shaped wings (? ), she doesn't fly, she only uses them to make big jumps and then glide between buildings, the other thing is to use her propeller to gain more speed

Almost finishing the Sombra Lunar armor skin update

Beneath her armor, she wears full-body black metal mail for protection

Sai or katana or both?

She knows that she can't always depend on her technology, so now she carries a pair of sai just in case, although originally I wanted to give her a katana, (for her feud and rematch against Queen, an artie_stico OC), but I started to think in the sai because they are non-lethal weapons, (she does not seek to do damage but they would be useful as a defense), although I am leaning towards using both

Another change that I made to her was her hair style, she was not very satisfied so it is a combination of her first design and the previous one

Mask?, after a confrontation with Queen, (OC of artie_stico), her helmet was destroyed so her identity was revealed, she uses it in case she repeats herself

Now that the armor design update has been completed

I present to you Mitsuki Sánchez, alias "Sombra Lunar", "The Midnight Heroine"

"From the dark side, the moonlight will guide me"

And to finish this update I also did a review of his story with some changes since his debut in DA as Sombra Shorai, then the origin story of Sombra Lunar

Mitsuki Sánchez was born and raised in Japan, to a Mexican father and a Japanese mother. Her childhood was a bit difficult since her parents had different expectations for her future. Her father wanted her to focus on sports while her mom in science

For what Mitsuki from a very young age learned the disciplines of gymnastics and skating from her father and computer science and robotics from her mother, it was a stress for her because she only wanted to make her parents happy, (because they were always arguing)

She reached her limit and when she turned 15 she decided to dedicate herself to robotics. Her father, disappointed in her and starting the divorce proceedings, decided to go back to Mexico once and for all and leave them.

After that, she had a time of peace with her mother, getting her degree in robotics engineering and going to work for one of the most important companies in that field, and over time she would meet an attractive young man who would become a couple and they would commit

But deep down, something was bothering her and she felt that she had to make peace with her father before getting married, so she decided to go to Mexico with her boyfriend to look for her father… The last thing she knew about him was that he had an old farm and went there to look for him

When they got there they were intercepted by organized crime, his father had made a deal with them and had not fulfilled his part and due to their misfortune they coincided when they went looking for him to settle accounts … they eliminated his father and took his father hostage she and her boyfriend … tried to extort money from the embassy, their families and the company where she worked … there was no response… they eliminated her boyfriend in front of her as a warning that they were serious … there was no response either ... instead of eliminating her too, one of those bastards came up with the idea of using her for their dastardly business … she was enslaved … she spent years living like this … until an enemy group of those criminals attacked them and in the midst of the confusion they managed to escape

Hurt, confused and in a country she doesn't know she was lost and her only means of survival was theft, she spent months like that until she was arrested, if it weren't for a police officer they would have sent her to jail, so only her They deported them back, but ... Everything in their home had changed forever ... their mother had passed away from the impact of her kidnapping and the rest of her family did not know her because of her inheritance ... also the same in the company where he worked … they ignored it to keep his inventions and patents

Completely alone and abandoned, she robbed again, but not only to survive, but to gather resources to take revenge on that company, little by little she began to steal technology to improve her thefts and attacking that company from the shadows … That was his plan but during one of his robberies, during his escape he observed that in an alley there was a woman being attacked, how a burst passed through his mind for all that he had suffered when he was deprived of his liberty and without hesitating he rescued her

Since that night, she swore that no person would have to go through what she went through, so she became a night watchman

Thank you very much for your time for reading this blog and getting here, if you give me a chance I will continue to introduce my OCs with you and in the near future I will publish more stories about them, thanks again and have a great night

[mcyt-safespace]

Oh, we're so glad y'all are doing okay! If it's alright, our non canon Hermit fictive would like to share a canon call? We are bodily 19 (20 in mid July) and ask that those bodily 18 or older respond via our own ask box, DMs, or Discord (viridianartist_#8372).

Hello there! My name is Viridian, but within our own system, I go by Verna to differentiate between myself and the host (who I split from). I'm a non-canonical Hermit, a part of Season 9, though I also have dual residence over on the Empires S2 server (like Gem does).

I'm a fem presenting nonbinary bunny hybrid. Aside from the brown bunny ears and tail (with light tan spots) along with a bunny-esque nose, I mostly look Mexican? Tan/light brown skin, a mole here and there on my face and arms, as well as large brown eyes. I had circular glasses with a somewhat thin black frame? My hair fell to my shoulders in a dark to light purple ombre. My fashion sense leaned into the Y2K or like 90s fashion? I can't exactly find the words for that at the moment.

I remember Joe Hills had been the one to "find me". I was quite literally minding my own business in my own area of land in the birch forest between his pin ball machine and Doc's Perimeter when Joe came across my house. He took me to the Crastle and left me there for bdubs to eventually serve as the welcoming committee? It didn't happen as planned as King Ren found me first. I can go on in further detail about this encounter if requested.

I was given a job position within the king's court as an assistant/attendant. Most of my tasks were organizing chests or gathering items. When the court eventually dissolved, I believe I worked for bdubs in his coffee shop MUD.

In terms of relationships, I was romantically involved with Rendog (though it grew strained towards the end of his reign as king and restarted during the Hermit/Empires crossover). I may have had a brief fling with bdubs at one point or another, though it could've simply been a work husband/work wife situation? Cleo and Joe Hills were my closest friends, though Cleo moreso wanted to keep an eye on me. Scar, Cub, and them were like friends. Doc was something akin to an older brother/father/uncle to me. Gem was someone I think was also a friend, I can't remember. I know we traveled between Hermitcraft and Empires together. Again, I can go more in-depth if requested.

I'm not sure what else to add other than that during the crossover, I primarily stayed in Sanctuary as that's where I lived when staying in the Empires server. Ren and a few others may have stayed with me in my home there for some time during the crossover, too.

Overall, don't be afraid to reach out with questions. We found a Tango, Mumbo, and Grian but don't mind talking to other ones either. If we need to add more to this, let us know!

!!!!

- mod skep

[hughiecampbelle]

Ok. Sending in a ship aesthetic request with the caveat that you do not have to do this if you’re overwhelmed with them. I repeat, you don’t have to do mine if you’re overwhelmed.

However if you are fine to take on another here is my info oh and you can use my name in the ship obviously:

Gender Preference is Male. Blue Eyes with glasses which are dark blue but almost black rectangle frames. Long dirty blonde hair or has been referred to as brown (bit it’s not). Wavy hair but not super wavy if that makes sense? Tan skin, meaning I can be pale but I’m Mexican so I tan easily.

Hobbies and Things: Writing, Reading, Editing Films, Watching Movies, Going to the Zoo/Aquariums (that’s not a hobby necessarily but it’s fun). Cooking/Baking (brownies are the go-to). Listening to music and going to concerts. Playing guitar. Favorite color is green

I don’t really know what else to add but if you need more you know where to find me!

Also holy shit 8k what!!! You deserve every single follower and more. I mean you’re so fucking talented and such a great person clearly 8k people agree with me.

Noah x Connor Roy

Noah!!!!! My love!!!! Staaahhhpppp you're so kind I will cry lol!!!! I couldn't help myself, I love a good writer aesthetic and you are one of the best 💕 I really hope you like it!!!! Xoxoxo💜💜💜💜

[soniccrazygal]

And here's Terrence's!

Character Chart

Character’s full name: Terrence Afton

Character’s nickname: Terry, Mr Grumpy (by Michael, teasing), Shadow Michael (his former name)

Birth date: June 21st (he was a part of Michael, but they decided to share their birth date)

Nationality: British-Mexican

Weapons: gun.

Powers: shadow manipulation, teleportation, can float, invisibility when in a dark environment

Physical appearance

Age: ???

How old does he appear: 22

Weight: 77.6 Kg

Height: 6’3’’

Body build: tall but well built

Eye color: pale red with dark gray speckles

Glasses or contacts: none

Skin tone: almond

Distinguishing marks: black patches that look like vitiligo, faint freckles, scars on his left eye and lip

Hair color: brown fading to dark gray

Type of hair: curly

Hairstyle: short half-ponytail

Usual fashion of dress: punk

Favorite outfit: dark red tank top, ripped jeans, sneakers or tall boots

Jewelry or accessories: belt, long golden earrings, necklace, bandages on the hands

Personality

Alignment: chaotic good

Good personality traits: brave, calm, kind

Bad personality traits: untidy, has a bit of anger issues, solitary, too headstrong

Mood character is most often in: either very calm or angry

Sense of humor: dark humor, very sarcastic and ironic

What single event would most throw this character’s life into complete turmoil: being useless, his twin being in danger

Character is most at ease when: when he's with Michael

Most ill at ease when: around William

Enraged when: somebody he loves is in danger

Depressed or sad when: when he compares himself to Michael

Priorities: help Michael

Character’s soft spot: kids

Is this soft spot obvious to others: no

Greatest strength: sewing

Greatest vulnerability or weakness: Michael

Biggest regret: none for now

Minor regret: none for now

Biggest accomplishment: helping Michael

Minor accomplishment: none

Character’s darkest secret: his collection of romance books

Does anyone else know: only Michael

Past

Hometown: none

Type of childhood: none

Pets: none

Childhood hero: none

Dream job: none

Education: none

Religion: none

Finances: none

Present

Current location: Spirit Limbo

Currently living with: all the Souls that had became William's victims

Pets: white snake named Urobos

Religion: none

Occupation: none

Finances: none

Family

Adoptive mother: Daniela

Relationship with her: very good

Adoptive mother: Claire

Relationship with her: neutral

Father: none

Relationship with him: none

Adoptive father: Henry

Relationship with him: normal

Sister: Elizabeth

Relationship with her: normal

Brother: Evan

Relationship with them: normal

Adoptive sister: Charlie

Relationship with them: normal

“Twin”: Michael

Relationship with them: extremely good

Spouse: none

Relationship with him: none

Children: none

Relationship with them: none

Other important family members: Cassie and Gregory (nephews), but has friends (the former Tormentors)

Favorites

Color: red, black, gray

Least favorite color: pink and green

Music: classical

Food: japanese cuisine

Literature: romance and historical

Form of entertainment: watching soap operas

Mode of transportation: teleportation

Most prized possession: a necklace gifted to him by Michael, his gun

Habits

Hobbies: sewing

Plays a musical instrument: no

Plays a sport: no

How he would spend a rainy day: watching soap operas or designing and sewing clothes

Smokes: a bit

Drinks: no

Other drugs: none

What does he do too much of: argue

What does he do too little of: none

Extremely skilled at: sewing and programming

Extremely unskilled at: drawing

Nervous tics: smoking

Usual body posture: good

Traits

Optimist or pessimist: realist

Introvert or extrovert: Introvert

Daredevil or cautious: cautious

Logical or emotional: logical

Disorderly and messy or methodical and neat: messy

Prefers working or relaxing: work

Confident or unsure of himself: a bit unsure and self-conscious

Animal lover: yes

Self-perception

How he feels about himself: sees himself as just another version of Michael

One word the character would use to describe self: a glorified copy

What would the character most like to change about himself: doesn’t know

Relationships with others

Opinion of other people in general: neutral

Does the character hide his true opinions and emotions from others: no

Person character most hates: William

Best friend(s): Mark, Simon, Fredrick

Love interest(s): none

Person character goes to for advice: OMC

Person character feels responsible for or takes care of: Michael

Person character feels shy or awkward around: Michael’s family and friends

Person character openly admires: none

Person character secretly admires: Michael, Charlie and OMC

♪Lullaby_⁜_Anon♪

Interesting.