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theic-manic · 6 months ago

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Greek Deities: The Spooky God-Squad Part 1: Melinoe

I am going to start posting about the lesser-known, chthonic and otherwise monstruous and/or spooky Greek deities, demigods etc. and the first proper post in this series is dedicated to none other than

Melinoe: Goddess of Ghosts, Spirits. Madness, Nightmares, Propitiations to the dead & haunting the living

Etymology:

Melinoë may derive from Greek mēlinos (μήλινος), "having the color of quince," from mēlon (μῆλον), "tree fruit". The fruit's yellowish-green color evoked the pallor of illness or death for the Greeks.

A name derived from melas, "black," would be melan-, not melin-. Melinoe: “Soothing One,” “Gentle-Minded,” or perhaps “of the Color of Quince” (6) (7)

Parentage

Mother: Persephone

Father: Hades* or Zeus disguised as Hades

Melinoe's parentage is giving Maury paternity test episode on mount Olympus.

Normally I wouldn't cover parentage much however the unique story behind Melinoe's paternity helps us to understand her better

(My personal bias for disclosure: my father is a human version of Zeus's unpleasant qualities and Jupiter aka Zeus is in my natal chart as well as being one of my Soul Parent deities)

Grab some popcorn and a cup of tea!

*Hades may have been thought to have been the father but Maury (Mythologists) have some news...

So how did Zeus father Melinoe?

Some say trickery (7) others say reincarceration/ Hades+ Zeus combination (1)

"In literature, Melinoe is known to be the daughter of Persephone and Zeus which seems quite simple but really is not. At the time, Zeus was reincarcerated in the Underworld and had multiple facets. Persephone was impregnated by Zeus in one of Hades’ avatars, a Plouton. This means that Zeus and Hades were two gods in one.

Persephone, therefore, was impregnated by Zeus, in the form of a Plouton, at the bank of the river Cocytus. In Greek mythology, the Underworld had five rivers flowing in and out of it. Among them is Cocytus which is known as a fierce river where Hermes was stationed to escort the newly deceased souls into the underworld. The impregnated Persephone lay there and birthed Melinoe, another one of the illegitimate children of Zeus.

The lust of Zeus had left Persephone stripped of her virginity and she felt angry at what had Zeus done to her. Melinoe who was the goddess of the Underworld, the wife of Hades, and the daughter of Zeus and Demeter was now bearing the child of his father, Zeus. Melinoe was thus born at the mouth of the river and because of her close relation to the underworld, her abilities and goddess powers were also highly influenced by it."

Note: Her brother Zagreus was conceived via more obvious trickery

"He was a son of Zeus and Persephone who had been seduced by the god in the guise of a serpent." (5) Her potential half-sibling Makaria (Goddess of Blessed Death) is considered to be the child of Hades in the Byzantine encyclopedia Suda. I say potential because no mother is ever named however in the Heracleidae, Makaria is the child of Heracles and offers herself to be sacrificed to Persephone to save her family. (8, 9)

Offspring:

None.

"Melinoe did not have any offspring, neither divine nor mortal. Her essence was more intertwined with the spirits she governed than with creating a lineage of her own." (4)

Physical Appearance:

Description of Melinoe further leans into the Zeus-paternity lore as below -

"Her limbs were black on one side and white on the other, a manifestation of her dual chthonic and heavenly nature." (2)

"The translation of Thomas Taylor (1792) has given rise to a conception of Melinoë as half-black, half-white, representing the duality of the heavenly Zeus and the infernal Hades. This had been the interpretation of Gottfried Hermann in his annotated text of the hymns in 1805" (7)

Sound familiar?

While the Hellenic gods have overlaps with many Norse deities (I was previously a Norse pagan) Melinoe is one of the few with a near identical Norse equivalent: Hel

Hel was the daughter of trickster god Loki, a death goddess, and also described as physically appearing to be half dead:

"The entity Hel is depicted as half beautiful woman and half blue, decomposing corpse" (3)

Unlike Hel, she has been described as being clad in saffron. (7)

Having followed Hel as a Norse pagan in the past, I am pleasantly surprised and grateful that Melinoe has approached me during my Hellenic practice which leads me to...

Melinoe's Domains:

Ghosts

Spirits

Nightmares

Madness

Propitiations and offerings to the dead

Fear & anxiety

Necromancy

The Night

Duality (courtesy of her parentage)

The Underworld

The soul's passage

Correspondences:

Caveat:

This list is a mixture of Mythology, what has been reported by others working with her and anything I have experienced I will add personal experiences where relevant however please know that as with all deity signs, symbolism etc. your own personal experiences are what counts, also factoring your geographical location etc.

E.g. Some of the traditional flora and fauna associated with many Hellenic deities may not be present if you reside somewhere these aren't native however local flora & fauna may apply based on their symbolism so please use your own intuition, discernment & research. - Days of the week: Saturday, Monday and the 13th.

Tarot Cards: The High Priestess Death The Moon Queen of Swords 5 of Swords

Animals: Dogs (usually when they're howling), Bats, Corvids (Ravens, Crows etc.), Snakes, Butterflies, Moths, Scarabs, Cicadas, Black cats

Symbols: Grave yards, cemeteries, ghosts, crescent moon. bones, black & white objects and visuals, Torch or candles, Vampires, Dracula, Vampirism (as a spiritual concept) and anything one would associate with death magick.

Foods (can be used as offerings): Milk, Pomegranates, Mint, Poppy seeds, wine, Honey

Herbs (teas and incense): Lavender, Mint

Signs Melinoe may be reaching out:

Disclaimer: Since Melinoe is associated with fear, anxiety, madness and other arguably terrifying phenomenon please ensure that you are ruling out mundane causes such as sleep deprivation, stress etc. & reach out to your treating doctor.

You start seeing her correspondences or feel drawn to them.

E.g. my work-friend's brother-in-law passed away recently and right before it dawned on me that Melinoe was reaching out to me (the Cthonic deities are so damn subtle) I felt called to buy this person butterfly themed gifts to express my condolences.

Also before I realised she was reaching out I had some very vivid dreams of Scarabs which has significance around death 7 rebirth and protection.

My linked tumblr post also includes some other synchronicities, such as on the day I recognised her I saw a lot of random bat symbols, felt drawn to wear my bat bracelet, had the urge to wear black & white, and was approached by a friend regarding topics such as nightmares and necrophilia.

You start seeing Hades and Persephone symbolism or you pull Hades & Persephone tarot cards (linked post on Tarot identification) but the energy/vibes don't feel like either of them.

E.g. I recently kept pulling Hades & Persephone cards while not feeling their energies, however by looking at other synchronicities and using some discernment I figured out that it was actually Melinoe reaching out.

Since she is a "lesser" deity & not a lot about her exists, it can take longer to recognise her since our discernment can be tainted by what we are exposed to, especially when looking up symbols to rule out who is and isn't reaching out.

Prior to this, earlier this year I felt called to create a Chthonic altar which I dedicated to Hades at first based on my knowledge at the time.

Looking back, especially adding my sudden interest in vampirism and other symbols I realise this was me becoming aligned with Melinoe rather than Hades or Persephone.

You have or you feel called to perform baneful magick that causes mental distress, nightmares, madness etc.

(Something I did against a rather unpleasant ex-colleague and HR around the time I felt drawn to Vampirism)

Modern ways to honour Melinoe:

As with all the Cthionic babes: Shadow work

Desktop/device background art you associate with her (unfortunately Hades II game has flooded the image databases)

Consume spooky content, especially horror (if you feel comfortable doing so).

Pray/talk to her, keeping in mind that she is often quiet (it turns out this is very much a Cthonic deity vibe and I will elaborate on this in a post on Neurodivergent deity practices).

Embrace Chaos

Creative expression (art, music etc.)

Create playlists for her or listen to spooky playlists. Personally, I like Ice Nine Kills

Horror & spooky movies Some suggestions based on what I could locate online: Movies that feature ghostly apparitions, necromancy, and the manipulation of the dead. Examples: The Frighteners (1996), The Others (2001), or Only Lovers Left Alive (2013). Blair Witch Project (any of them except Blair Witch Book of shadows imo) The Ring and/or Ringu (Series) Nightmare on Elm Street (1984) - A classic horror movie that explores the realm of nightmares, fitting for Melinoe, the goddess of nightmares. The Witch (2015) - A horror film set in 17th-century New England, exploring themes of witchcraft, folklore, and the supernatural, which resonates with Melinoe's connection to magic and the unknown. Coraline (2009) - A stop-motion dark fantasy film that explores the idea of a parallel world, fitting for Melinoe's association with the underworld and the realm of the dead. The Devil's Backbone (2001) - A Spanish horror film set during the Spanish Civil War, exploring themes of death, loss, and the supernatural, which aligns with Melinoe's connection to the dead. Supernatural Thrillers: Films that incorporate elements of mystery, suspense, and the unknown, often featuring characters who interact with the dead or the supernatural. Hereditary (2018) - A psychological horror film that explores the themes of grief, loss, and the supernatural. Examples: The Sixth Sense (1999), or The Orphanage (2007). Verónica (2017) - A Spanish horror film that explores the themes of witchcraft, folklore, and the supernatural. The Autopsy of Jane Doe Not an extensive list, go with what feels right.

Video games: Again, not extensive- Soma Amnesia (series) Silent Hill (series) Castlevania (Series) Outlast (Series) Phasmophobia Mundaun

Melinoe's communication style: From personal experience, I have found Melinoe to be non-verbal, and as such her communications tyle with me tends to be via Pendulum/Spirit boards, Tarot & imagery. This seems to align with her portrayal in Lore Olympus as deaf/mute (I've not read enough of the comic to know her full story there). Cthonic Deities in general tend to be fairly quiet and solemn, at least with casual worshippers rather than devotees however that's for another post. i have mentioned my communications with Melinoe recently

Notable posts about Melinoe:

Sources:

1. https://ancient-literature.com/melinoe-goddess/

2. https://www.theoi.com/Khthonios/Melinoe.html

3. https://www.worldhistory.org/Hel/

4. https://olympioi.com/demigods/melinoe

5. https://www.theoi.com/Georgikos/Zagreus.html

6. https://greekmythology.fandom.com/wiki/Melinoe

7. https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Melino%C3%AB

8. https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Macaria 9. https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Children_of_Heracles

#deity work #deity worship #hellenic gods #hellenic paganism #melinoe worship #melinoe mythology #melinoe goddess #melinoe devotional #Cthonic gods #cthonic deities #spooky god squad

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eatmangoesnekkid · 8 months ago

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I want to give a shout out to the resource of melanin. Not enough conversation and studies are being done on the vital power of melanin, a power that has been mostly suppressed and hidden by dominant culture. It is part of my responsibility to make sure that I live in this highly-melanated body to the fullest, to not take any drop of melanin for granted, to spend as much time as I can in the warmest sun, and begin to speak more on the beauty and wisdom of melanin. Melanin literally absorbs sunlight, a cosmic frequency, as oppose to reject it and become inflamed and infected as a result. Pause. This is huge because it means that the more melanin your body holds, the more light your body carries, and the stronger and more regenerative it is. When harnessed appropriately through opening your heart and limiting how much sugar, seed oils, and processed an packaged foods you ingest and become fueled by, you naturally have more awareness and sight, a higher overview of consciousness. And none of this is about "race." It is about light. It is about divine energy. It is about biology. It is what is real and true yet suppressed and hidden. -India Ame'ye, Author

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kestgrey · 10 days ago

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Aldis Hodge + there are many, but he's one of the inspirations behind the character Jay, who also appears in my MXM erotic short story called, "Joyeux Anniversaire". You can check it out and read: https://www.amazon.com/dp/B0D3WXJBRW

Plot: Rylee, an avid social justice warrior, typically has an aversion when it comes to celebrating his special born day. He spends most of that time ducking and dodging loved ones who fight to inspire him to enjoy it to the fullest. However, this birthday proves to be like no other. His beau, Elias, has cultivated the biggest surprise he could've ever dreamt of...let's just say the term birthday suit, has transcended into something more plentiful.

Snippet Below ⬇️

Rylee wrapped his arms firmly around the other’s neck as they continued with the lip tussling. Eventually it was short lived as Elias pulled away, causing Rylee to lower his arms. He gazed through the eyes of the one he loved before speaking.

“So…about your other surprise pumpkin,” Elias spoke.

“Oh wait, right now?” Rylee genuinely asked, assuming it would be given after they finished fucking the life out of each other.

“Yeap now. So, remember when we talked about that fantasy of yours, you thoroughly wanting to be enjoyed and filled up on both ends?” Elias candidly reminded him.

“…Yes I do, but what does that- “his speech was halted by a finger being gingerly placed against his lips.

“It’s your birthday…perfect time as any,” Elias spoke before pulling away more and diverting his attention towards the other hall on the opposite side of where their bedroom is. “Present number two, you can come on,” he projected his voice some.

As this was said, Rylee obviously raised a brow and turned his neck in the direction his man spoke towards. Suddenly a spectacularly crafted, deeply melanated man came from the corner. He was completely rid of any clothing, completely baring his whole divinity. He only sported a gift bow stickered to his chest, along with an illuminating nose piercing. It needed to be noted that he had a multitude of hard abs embedded in his torso. Rylee surveyed the entirety of this man’s physique. He was currently at a loss for words. He watched as the man sauntered over to occupy the same space as them.

“This is Jay babe. I met him at that overhyped club last weekend. We chopped it up for a good while, and I figured he’d fit what you wanted,” Elias informed.

Jay led with audacity and stood directly beside Elias as Rylee’s nakedness remained atop the counter. “Happy Birthday,” Jay spoke, his deep voice carried. He chased it with a licking of his lips and a smile.

“…Thank you. Nice to meet you,” Rylee said. Despite this being hugely unsuspecting, all it took was the droplets of potent energy, that Jay seemed to naturally have, to infect the room. This caused a burgeoning carnal rocket to shoot through Rylee. The man not only having his beau, but a superlative side dish to play with, sounded like a blast to him.

“He’s all yours. Let us cater to you tonight like you deserve. Fuck what’s in this box, you’re the cake tonight,” Elias informed. He reached over and ripped the bow from Jay’s chest. Elias then eyed him and nudged his head towards Rylee.

Jay knew the signal and casually made himself closer to Rylee. He reached over and offered a kiss. Rylee willfully took it in. It started off patiently and slowly. Before they both knew it, their lips revved up and they were feverishly melding together passionately. It matched the same energy it had with Elias. Jay raised a hand upward and placed it around Rylee’s neck as they continued. Elias currently watched on, perpetually getting turned on by the sight. He unbuckled his belt and worked to remove his pants. Now the baker sported the full bareness the other two had. He took a casual step over to them and instead of immediately melding his way into the kiss, Elias placed a hand on Jay’s lower back. It found its way skating further down the melanin, now sitting on his ass checks.

#snippet✨#kgrey #aldis hodge #fanfic #boys #x male smut #x male reader #gay art #fantasy smut #male beauty #gay #sexy male #queer #lgbt writers

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wide-nose-and-wonderful · 1 year ago

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SNOWFALL SEASON 1 Franklin (PART 2)

Pairing: Franklin Saint x Black Fem Reader!

Warnings/Type: Established Relationship. Angst. Use of the n-word. Here is part (1).

Summary: You’ve seen the worst parts of him and the best parts of him and vice versa. That’s why you made a good pair, but the recent knowledge of his new life path has torn you both apart. However when tragedy strikes, it might be the thing you need to take another look at the Franklin you fell in love with.

Word count: 6,377k / Comment and Like to show some love. It's oh so appreciated and encourages me to write more for ya'll!

You felt a lot like Dorothy and remembered why you watched the Wiz over and over but still remained confused. Wherever the fuck you were, it wasn’t Cho’s Grocery Store anymore. The bright roads stretched out before you, and you drifted, to a beautiful meadow. The color of sapphire. A kind like you’d never seen, settled into your view. Almost too blinding to look at. It shined. In the meadow, You were surrounded by people. Your people. Black people, wearing these immaculate sapphire robes you were unable to look at for too long, running, laughing and smiling but all in slow motion.

They wore stones, in the form of necklaces, and bracelets of all different colors rich from the earth that surrounded them. And their hair stretched high as a tree reaching out toward the sun woven in thick and angelic dark coils of magic. Hair that told a story. You were amazed how well their deep brown complexions contrast against the colors and these robes. Mesmerizing yellow and pink sat the skies and kissed them, as if this place of such immense divinity celebrated their being there. A painting come to life. The colors, vivid and beating. Like liquid. You feared blinking, worried that it would all disappear if you did.

The sun shone brightly. The surrounding air filled with the sweet smell of wildflowers. Birds chirped in the background, and you felt an unexplainable wave of peace and contentment wash over your entire being. You watched them. Satisfied with that. Your soul told you that you couldn't join in their little place of peace. A place you could only see. You didn't even have on the right clothes. You peered down. Still in your high tops and blue jeans. Not Dorothy’s famous ‘no place like home’ silver slippers.

“It's wonderful isn't it?”

Your eyes found their way to where the words had come. There he was. Handsome. Healthy, and alive.

“Ronnie.” You took a moment to soak in the image of him. To be sure that you were actually seeing what you thought you were.

“Ha, yeah it's me,” He confirmed.

You took off running towards him. Damn what your soul cautioned. Damn whether or not you weren't dressed for the occasion. Or the rules, or anything! You were going to hug your big brother. For the longest time you'd been unable to do so. Five long months and you'd counted every day. Your heart swelled, and you embraced him, soaking in the warmth of the hug. When you drew your arms around him, it was like the entire world stood still. And when he held you back just as tight and eager, you took a breath of relief. This was real! It felt so real.

An eternity could have passed with you hugging him, as if holding on for dear life, but you wanted so badly to see his face that you discarded the grip and looked up. He wore the same sapphire robes that the others did. Those stones of various colors. But there were things missing. When you went to visit him, he’d had cuts and bruises. Some old, many of them new. None of those were there anymore. His skin, heavily melanated, was fresh from blemish of any kind. This surprised you. He no longer wore those big round glasses either. But such a drastic difference couldn’t go unspoken.

“Ron. Where are your glasses?” You tilted your head. He looked a lot different without them.

A smile found him and he shook his head peering down at you. “I don't need them anymore.”

“Really, you. You don't need them?” You laughed. He had to be joking. Ronnie would have been declared and certified blind without his specks. You didn’t believe it. But your brother had never lied to you. Nor had he once squinted as if he didn’t have a clear view from where he stood.

“Yeah. You don't need any of that stuff here.”

And you wondered where exactly ‘here’ was.

Ronnie reached for your hand. “Let me see.”

You looked down and noticed you were holding the inhaler. The one you’d forgotten to pocket when you left your house to walk down the street to Cho’s. The one that Franklin had searched for to try and help you.

Franklin. The thought of him only lasted a moment before Ronnie stole your attention. He took the inhaler from your hand and threw it over the edge.

“Ronnie! What the-” You peered over the hill where you both stood and watched it travel downward, falling until it disappeared into the glittering waters below. You took a few steps closer to investigate.

He smiled at you. Now that your hand was free he grabbed it.“Come on, I wanna show you something. Take a breath…”

To your amazement, You closed your eyes and took a deep breath, breathing in the sweet, fresh air. Something you hadn’t been able to do in years. At Least not to this capacity. You turned to your brother both stunned and fascinated. There were so many of your people there.

“What is this place?”

Ronnie took in a deep breath, exhaled, and looked at the skies blissfully. “Paradise.”

You looked around. Yeah. He was right. It was.You pointed down at the people below your sights from the hill.

“Well what’s going on there?”

“A celebration,” Ronnie said.

Your eyes traveled from him and back to the crowd that had started to move. “What are they celebrating?” You asked with a burning curiosity. You’d never seen anything like it. Black people, all together, so happy. Of Course you’d been to cook outs in the neighborhood. On special occasions. Sometimes just because someone felt like doing something, or when the weather was nice there might be a get together, but this was different. A thing that couldn’t be explained in words.

“Me,” Ronnie said smooth and casual. “It's a celebration for me.”

You looked at him. That same smile was present. It filled his face with a light you’d never seen in him before. Like even beyond the robes he wore, he glowed, a bright aura on him equivalent to a shadow following its master without fail. Your eyes traveled over him. Over these robes of sapphire. “You?” You breathed.

They were coming. Getting closer and closer, like they’d been waiting for him for a while. Happy that he finally showed up. Music and love were coming to carry him away.

“Remember when we were kids. Dad turned on the sprinkler, and we would run through.”

That was random. Why out of all the memories had he chosen to bring up that specific one?

“Yeah. I remember. That was nice. Dad wasn’t sick then.”

Your father. Ronnie had been the spitting image of that man. Glasses and all. You remember your dad being a gentleman, but a teacher as well. Because of him you knew all sorts of things. Things you were able to apply to everyday life. He died too soon. Lung Cancer. Probably second hand, because he’d never smoked a cigarette a day in his life. Then again, the world didn’t need an excuse to be cruel, so it left you and Ronnie fatherless.

“Here you get to do stuff like that all the time. There is no sickness. No suffering. No tears.”

It sounded good. It sounded amazing. The world like you knew it was filled with all those things, especially for black people. Suffering and tears. Some days it was just hard to exist. But you’d been together in that dark place, and for you that had been enough. You weren’t ever really alone because you knew you had your brother.

“Right,” You breathed out, “But you wanna come home, don’t you?” You could feel your emotions, all of them. The same way when you’d stopped to talk to Franklin that night in Cho’s after Leon, Kevin and Melody had left. “I’m so close to bringing you home,” you pleaded. “We can’t give up now.”

Had you forgotten that quickly what your mother said on the phone? What she’d repeated over and over.

“I can't, baby sister. I can't come home.”

You wanted to fight against that logic. Of Course he could. But if he wouldn’t come, then you wouldn’t leave.

“Fine, okay. I'll stay with you instead? Get me a robe like this too. Seems nice.”

You heard the word ‘BREATHE’ being called out from behind. Not pressing enough to make you turn from your brother's face. So you ignored it. You wanted nothing more than to find a way to escape it all and obtain peace. Like Ronnie had.

“It’s not time yet for you little sister.”

Finally, he kissed your forehead and smiled at you, saying, “You gotta wake up now.” but you didn't want to. The word ‘BREATHE’ came at you from behind again. Still all you could do was watch all the people surrounding Ronnie, smiling and welcoming him as they grew further and further from where you were left standing. The worst part was that he appeared happy to be with them. He'd left you there, and your body ached wishing desperately to follow, although you couldn't move. The bright colors faded to display a muddled and pale comparison, almost making your eyes hurt. The birds became silent. Different voices took their place. In short echoes at first, until they become more and more clear. You were drifting again, between reality and a dream.

You weren’t certain, but you were sure these voices belonged to Jerome and Cissy Saint.

Slowly, you opened her eyes and looked around, but the meadow was gone. The celebration, those colors full of life, and Ronnie. Darkness had found you, and the only light you could grasp was the dimness of the one above. You knew you were in some kind of room although you were unsure of the location.

“Got damn shame what they did to that boy. He died in his own pool of blood. Took three days for one of them sadity ass guards to go in and check. The body was stinkin’ bad by that time.”

“My God. My God. How is she? You speak to Louie? She still over there?”

“Throwing up, crying. Same. Louie stayed wit her last night. Tried to get her to eat somethin.”

“Did she?”

“Naw.”

“Shit. This is bad. That poor woman, losing one of her babies. I can't even imagine.”

“Here. Got these. For when the girl wake up.”

“Thank you. For doin’ all this. Gettin’ involved. I don't get off till late so, keep me posted on any change.”

“Aight.”

They couldn't be talking about your brother. Your brother was in a Paradise, safe and free. You placed him in a beautiful dream, and left him there. And who was this person they spoke about? Not your brother. That voice urging you to breathe had brought you back to the world. A world filled with suffering and tears. Only this time, without Ronnie. You shut your eyes. You were all alone in it. You closed your eyes and wanted desperately to obtain that peace, to beg Ronnie once again for a place to stay within it. But you didn’t return. The irritating beep beep beep, met a synchronized sound in your eardrums, annoying you to wake.

Just as you expected, Franklin made good on getting you to the hospital in time. He always came through. Of Course the actual process was all a blur. That, and how long you'd been there. Your gaze traveled and to your left it was met by a beautiful and large bouquet of fresh flowers. You knew they were fresh by the scent they omitted. Pink alstroemerias, lavender irises, and white orchids decorated into a wonderful grouping of exquisite beauty. Contrast to that beauty, the room smelled of bleach and disinfectant, and the air was stale and thick with the scent of sickness. It was a stark reminder of what this place was for. A reminder of the fragility of life. A mixture of antiseptic and fear. It was a room where life and death could be decided, and the weight of that knowledge was almost palpable. It was a place that could bring hope and despair, depending on its occupant's fate. The room, oppressive.

You felt something on your wrist, so light that you thought it could be a spider's legs. A glance downward. The sound of beeping and whirring filled the space as the machines hummed. An IV bag hung from a stand next to the bed, dripping fluids into your awaiting arm delivering some unknown liquid into your veins. What came after made your lips partially curve. Franklin sitting in a chair that he'd pulled closer to the bed. He'd busied himself with focusing on your hand. Messing with your fingers as he often did when you both laid on the couch watching TV. It hadn't been a spider's legs like you first suspected, but instead him bruising over your skin in traces as soft as a feather's touch. You were glad for that. You weren't too fond of spiders.

You shifted, and pulled your hand back a little at the sensation it brought that you tried to escape. “That tickles,” you whispered when he regarded your gaze.

Your name fell from his lips, and warmness filled inside your stomach. You always liked the way he said it. But it was like, you'd never heard it this way before. He’d said it like you’d been gone a long time.Years. He said it like he’d never thought he’d ever see you again. His face lit up, and a smile so big presented itself. One that made you smile.You wouldn't cry. But you wanted to. You were hoping he'd be the first face you'd see.

“Franklin.” You found his hand and applied pressure as you inhaled through the nasal cannula locked to each of your nostrils. “I was so scared. I thought I was gonna die.” You had to stop there. You hated the way your voice sounded all hoarse and strained, but more than that, the tears were so close to spilling that you played a dangerous game of keeping shit together or falling completely apart. “That was you wasn't it Frank? The one telling me to breathe. Callin' me back.”

He gathered your hand up in both of his, leaned his face and kissed the top of your knuckles. “Yeah,” he said. “That was me.”

You offered barely more than a nod. One tear managed to slip past your reserve. “Thank you,” you whispered. “Saved my life.” The last part had been hard to say. For whatever strange reason, guilt riddled within those words. Where Franklin succeeded in saving a life, you had failed. What made you so special that your life mattered more than your brothers had? You sucked in a sharp breath.

Franklin turned his head and lifted his face. Almost like he didn't want you to see. You should have brought the inhaler with you. More often than not you could be careless. Even before you'd decided to make things official with Franklin he'd been on you. Nagging that you take better care to remember shit like that. You'd put him in a difficult situation. What if you had checked out? You wanted peace, but death was a little too permanent for your taste.

When you realized he still had his face turned you cleared your throat and noted his change in clothes. You remembered a green shirt. The one he wore was a deep red with blue sleeves.

“You're dressed differently.”

Franklin turned his head and inspected your face. It made you wonder just how long you’d drifted between consciousness and unconsciousness.

“You been out for three days.” He clarified. “Went home to change. Came back. Repeated the process.”

“Oh. Damn.”

Three days. That seemed excessive, but it made sense. Panic attack and Asthma attack were a bad combination. You glanced up at the sound of footsteps and Cissy Saint came into view. Her hair pressed and turned out with a small bounce complimenting the flower print blouse and light blue jeans she wore.

“Glad to see you awake. Franklin, come on now, give her some space.”

He sighed and pushed up from his place on the bed as he sat back in the chair.

“It’s okay Cissy. I don’t mind it. Glad he’s here.” And you meant that in every sense of the word.

“Yeah. You gave everyone quite a scare you know. He been up here for the past few nights. We're all glad you're okay.” She sighed. She looked worn out, mostly in the eyes. You figured it must have been because of the information she knew. That little bit you'd heard. “Had the opportunity to speak to the doctor a little while ago. He’s good with your levels. So you shouldn’t be here for much longer. They just need time to send for the medication.”

You nodded and gave her a smile. Only after Cissy entered, had you noticed the layout of the room you were in. Sterile and white. The linoleum floor was a faded gray. The room was small. A single bed in the middle with a window overlooking the parking lot, and a small television mounted on the wall opposite the bed. The walls were bare, except for a single framed photograph. The bed in which you laid was covered in a plain white sheet, and had four rails on each side. You hated it.

“Has my mother been here?”

“No. She uh. Been taking care of some things at home. Just hasn't had the chance. That's all.”

Cissy was trying to spare your feelings, but she said a lot without saying much. Been taking care of things at home. Sure. But a quick check in didn’t take much.

“Okay. Maybe I'll, yeah I'll give her a call a little later. Think maybe she'd wanna hear my voice.”

You didn’t want Franklin or Cissy to notice her not showing up hurt, so you willed the tears back. It hadn’t been this big secret to anyone that your mother doted on Ronnie, and in whatever circumstance put him before anything and anyone. You were never jealous, only starved of affection. You hadn’t expected her to show up, but for her baby boy. Oh, she’d been there for all the special events in his life, offered him praise on his accomplishments and made sacrifices. In all these things, there you were, watching in the background and battling with yourself on whether it was selfish that you envied that kind of devotion. The same thing you'd craved in your relationship with Franklin no doubt, and while you could understand your mother’s frustrations in some aspects, you were left baffled. Sure, while Ronnie was compliant, you were combative. While he was submissive to your mother’s will, you were rebellious to it, and you both seemed to compete in some way for your brother's attention, but you were still her child, her only girl.

“You gonna need to drink some water. They got a menu, so in a little while, I want you to try and put something in your stomach, okay.”

Franklin handed you the menu Cissy mentioned and you took it giving the options a look over. Nothing on it looked even remotely appetizing.

“Okay Cissy. I will.” You sat the menu down with no intention of using it. Consuming any such food would be the reason for an extended stay.

Franklin watched you and grinned. He turned, reached over to grab the glass and the silver pitcher beside it, to fill it halfway with water. “Hm. Drink that. Your voice sounds horrible.” A playful smirk had made its way to his lips as he held the glass out for you to take.

You smacked your teeth and gave a roll of your eyes, but downed the whole thing.

“Just in case I'm not the one to take you home.You got a fresh set of clothes right here.”

Your eyes shifted to where Cissy pointed her finger. The clothes that Jermone had brought. You lowered the glass from your mouth and whispered a soft thank you. There was a knock at the door and you and Franklin watched Leon enter. Right on time to. Your energy had plummeted after the mention of those certain clothes that had been brought from your house. It confirmed one thing that you would always be resentful for. You hadn't heard wrong.

You watched Cissy and Leon hug. She let you know she’d check in on you once she was off of her shift, and for Franklin to be home at a decent hour, before she left the room. You wondered if that had to do more with you or his new found profession. Just thinking about it annoyed you all over again. You never got around to asking for detail, although he probably wouldn’t tell you anyway.

“Aye, wassup afro twin.”

You forced yourself to sit up with a little resistance from your tired body. “Leon, wassup?”

He walked over to the empty chair at the other side of the bed opposite of Franklin and sat down. “Same ol’ shit, you know. How you feelin’ today?” He looked around at all the medical machines. “All this look crazy.”

He'd been right. Hospital’s could be rather dramatic with all their life saving gadgets. “I’m fine. Sept for this.” You raised a hand to touch the top of your head. The afro that had become signature to your look was now done up with two big messy braids and locked together by a rubber band, compliment of Cissy more than likely. The ends were tucked under. Probably as a cation not to cause irritation to your neck. How thoughtful. “You see they got my crown pushed back. I feel all incompetent and shit.”

Leon laughed. “Oh hey speakin’ of, brought you somethin.” He reached in one of his pockets and pulled out a small black hair pic then held it in your direction.

Overwhelmed with awe, you reached out to take it from him. Setting back, you looked at the balled first at the top and remembered why you were friends. A grin casually began to pull on your face.

“Figured you would appreciate it, wit you being Assata’s lil sis and all.”

You nodded and grinned. It had been a joke of course, but you never minded being likened to a woman who you had immense respect for. “Right on Lee. Cuz I lost my other one. I figured you’d have a spare, somewhere.”

Franklin, who'd been left out of the conversation, shook his head with a chuckle. “Y'all too much with these damn afro’s.”

Leon smacked his teeth. “Shit nigga when you gon join in? Be a part of the Afro gang?”

Your eyes lifted from the pic. “Yeah Franklin, I mean it looks like it’s tryna grow out a little already. Let it.”

“Haha. I’m not messin’ wit yall,” he said but touched the top of his hair in a gentle pat.

You looked over at the bouquet and reached out to brush a petal closest with your fingers. “So who brought the flowers?”

Glances were passed between Franklin and Leon.

“Mel did.” Franklin said.

You sunk down into the cushion of the pillows behind you and sighed. “Oh.”

An awkwardness found its way into the room. You were certain that you both could feel the change, even Leon. You were sure that in some capacity Franklin had told Leon what happened. Either just on principle of holding the title of his best friend, or to prepare him for the shift in the friend group. Whatever the reason things had changed for all of you. Having the time to reflect on everything, you wondered what kind of turmoil that caused Ronnie, always being stuck in the middle of two women at odds pulling at either end to pick a side. To pick who he loved more. The mother daughter relationship, such a complicated thing. What you did realize was that you’d projected this in your relationship with Franklin, only you’d stirred up a war with Melody this time. A war she probably hadn’t seen coming. Once upon a time she’d been a friend. There for you when you had your first breakup with icecream and laughter, and when you told her you were planning on running away that time when you were twelve, she said she would go with you, even though Andre tore into her ass for it later. You both hadn’t even made eye contact since the confrontation, but she’d thought about you enough to bring flowers. Your favorite.

“Why didn’t you tell me to get up?”

“Why didn’t I tell you to get up? First of all yo ass pulled me in there on the random. And tell you to get up, for fucking’ what? I’m your girlfriend nigga, we were having an intimate moment. The better question is why the hell was she climbing in your window in the first damn place? You know all this shit don’t add up right?”

“Man, whatever.You have this thing that you do. You make shit up in your own head.”

“You know Franklin. If you playin’ me, at least have the decency to tell me to my face. Instead of being a fuckin’ coward and lying about the shit. You don’t think I deserve the truth?”

“Quit while you're ahead, please.”

“Oh quit while I'm ahead. Right, but I'm the last to know about your little side hustle. But everybody else know. Image how the fuck I feel!”

You put away the memory. That had been the worst fight you’d had as a couple, and the last. It hadn’t even been a full year in and it was over just like that. But maybe, this was never about Franklin. You thought back to the time you were forced to see the school psychologist after your dad died. Really, what was some white middle aged woman from the suburbs going to tell you about grief and pain. It didn’t have to happen to you for it to be felt, because if it wasn’t happening to you, it was happening to your aunties and uncles, your cousins and friends that held a similar skin tone. Her people had contributed to the majority of what pain surfaced, the hopelessness you felt, and your grief had levels, years if not centuries to it. You discovered this on different occasions. Being followed in a store, or looking in a school textbook to see a young black boy hanging from a tree after being lit on fire, Jesse Williams. You hadn’t forgotten his name. Or your all time favorite, being told to go back to Africa although you'd never seen it a day in your life. A pain she would never understand sitting comfortably in her privilege. You stopped attending after one session and latched on other outlets. Perfecting your afro, reading up on works by Marcus Garvey, and Malcolm X. That sparked a realization for you though. Something deeper was going on inside. Something you weren’t ready to admit to yourself.

You sighed and Franklin directed his attention to Leon. “Where Kev,” he said, with the best way he knew how to change the subject.

Leon turned his gaze on the door and your eyes followed. “Parking the car.” He shrugged. “You know that nigga slow. We was circlin’ around for like twenty minutes. Eventually I just told him to let me out.”

For whatever reason you could actually see how that played out, and the thought made you let loose a brief laugh. “Well,” you began, adding yourself into the exchange. “Y'all know how he is about his ride.”

“Obsessed as shit,” Leon said to add. “It ain't even that clean.”

“Come on, stop. What if he come in and hear you Lee, you know he sensitive.” Franklin chimed in with a smile. “And if that nigga decide to put you out. Ya on ya own. I’m not walkin’ wit you.”

Leon smacked his teeth throwing glances at both you and Franklin. “I don’t give a fuck bout’ that. Facts is facts. Forget tryna spare the nigga’s feelings.”

“Ayeee. What ya’ll talkin’ bout?”

All three of you looked at the door. Kevin stood in its frame, confused and eager to be let in on the discussion.

Your energy had to be on zero, but threw up a hand anyway to wave it at him. “Kevin, hey. Find a good parkin’ spot?” you joked.

He smiled coming in and making his way toward you to offer a hug. “Wassup girl. Hell yeah, you kno i’mma always take care of my ride. Found me a nice tree, away from all the rest of the motherfucka’s, so I kno nobody gon’ mess wit ma shit. Anyway, forget all that.” He stood back and gave you a once over. “Good now?”

“Never better.” You gave Kevin this half ass salute, and although your words came out somewhat sarcastic, you meant well, and Kevin for as long as you’d known him was good with that. You figured he had to be with his special sense of humor.

“Aight, I’mma take your word for it. The way Franklin called us up that night tho. He made it seem like you was tryna go to glory. You had that nigga in a tizzy.”

Leon chuckled and shook his head. “This nigga said in a Tizzy.”

Kevin dramatically spread his arms. “Man I'm for real. If I'm lyin’ then I'm flyin’. We tryna see about you, but this nigga so panic he could barely get a word out.”

Franklin gave Kevin this look, that you could only conclude to be a death stare, but you had focused on the Go to Glory, part. You laughed at this, only because his grandma said it often.Yet she was still alive and kickin’ bossing around all the kids in the neighborhood when they’d passed by her house with no such promise of leaving up outta there any time soon. The expression however had become a familiar one. Something she used often when she was threatening Kevin. ‘Boy don’t make me take you to glory,’ or, ‘these damn children make me wanna go to glory.’ Or her all time favorite. ‘Lord, just, take me on to glory.’

You thought about Ronnie. What you saw. Could that be what glory was like? You'd concluded that it damn sure wasn't Oz.

“Well yeah, guess it wasn’t time just yet,” you said and hoped to make light of the situation. Although you were stupid to leave the inhaler behind, you hadn’t planned on an asthma attack. Shit like that just happened. Lesson learned.

“I'm glad you decided to stay wit us crazy folk here in South Central. I can’t speak for everybody else but personally, I’d miss seein’ you around. Miss you talkin’ all the shit you be talkin’.”

You frowned and rolled your eyes. “Shut up Kev.”

“See, that’s what I mean.” He faced Franklin. “So wassup Saint, you rollin’ wit us?”

“Yeah.” He stood up.

You looked at the window. Still daylight. What fucking difference did that make? A pusher could do in the day what he could do at night, although you weren’t sure what Franklin preferred. Whatever brought the most customers maybe. The cover of darkness or hiding in plain sight.

“Aye and we should probably talk about the movie on friday. I know we said we gon hit up that Eddie Murphy, but I wanna see a horror one too! That Camp Sleepaway lookin’ good, or Cujo maybe?”

When Kevin mentioned seeing another movie, that meant sneaking into the second one. Two for the price of one. You didn't know anyone in the neighborhood who hadn't had that same mentality when it came to that philosophy. All this required a plan. Someone chosen to open the back door. Another to play lookout. You wondered who they'd have do it this time. Probably Melody.

You and Franklin caught each other's gaze at the same time.

“Yeah, uh let's talk about that later, okay.”

You shook your hand hoping to gain the attention of all three. “Oh no Franklin. Don’t mind me. Please. I’m fine, you go, plan your night. It'll be here before you know it.”

Franklin moved closer to the bed. “You sure?” He really did look concerned.

“Yeah,” you nodded. “You’ve been here for the last three days anyway. Please, get outta here. I know you gotta be sick of the hospital smell by now.”

“Shit. I know I am. I hate hospitals. Anyway Darlin’ you call me up if you need me to bring you anything.”

Darlin? You appreciated Kevin because you knew that meant anything junk food from the store. On top of the smell, hospital food was straight booty, and depending on how long they'd keep you, you would need an outlet. You waved goodbye to both Leon and Kevin as they departed. You and Franklin were alone again.

“You call me when you make it outta here and I'll come over. Check on you.”

“Yeah. You sure that won't cut into your cocaine selling time.” It was more a statement than a question.

Franklin's jaw twitched. You saw it from the corner of your eye and watched him check behind his back. Probably to make sure Cissy wasn't coming around any corners to hear you by accident.

“I don't wanna talk about this right now.”

“But we never finished. The phone rang, remember?”

“Look, I gotta go okay.” He walked over to the side of the bed, leaned down and kissed your forehead before turning to head for the door.

You used all your energy to sit up to try and stop him. “Do you know what I thought while I was on the floor gasping for air Franklin. Huh? Do you?”

He stopped walking but his back remained on you.

“That I was sorry it was over. Dispite what you're doing to yourself. To your mother. You still ain't tell her, huh?”

You could hear Leon call Franklin's name from down the hallway, telling him to hurry up. Your eyes had traveled to the window. “So. You gon go do some business now. Huh Franklin? Even after what happened. You're still unconvinced that it's a bad idea. I know they told you what they did to Ronnie in that fuckin prision. And you can bet it was much worse than drowning in a pool of his own blood. I'm sure the nightmare began long before that. I saw what they did to his face. So tell me. Is the money really worth all that it will come with?”

Although Franklin had a little more fight in him. Prison had the reputation to break everyone down eventually. You already knew he wasn't built for it. Especially for the long haul. He might make it for a few months, but the years that cocaine would add to his sentence would take him out with a quickness. You liked Cissy. You didn't want to see her cry.

“Get some rest,” Franklin said. This time when he walked, he made it to the door.

“Hey!” You shouted loud enough to get his attention. “I have one more question for you before you go.”

He stopped just shy of the door frame. One foot out, the other in. “What’s that?”

“If I were to think that this was all some kind of misunderstanding. Like, none of this was real. That he was somewhere at college maybe. Would you lie to me and tell me I wasn’t coasting on false hope. That there was this small possibility. Would you tell me that none of this happen? That everything up to this point was all just a bad dream I made up.”

Franklin lowered his head. Maybe to think about it, but in the same moment he lifted his face towards the ceiling and closed his eyes. Then he shook his head. He looked at you over his shoulder.“No,” he said. “Because this is real. He’s gone.”

Franklin couldn't tell you about his being a drug dealer, but he could tell you that what you'd heard Jerome and Crissy say was the truth. He could say without saying, you had failed. That all of your studying and reading and time spent trying to convince some bullshit lawyer of different avenues of freedom, that everything had all been in vain.

“Okay.” That single word came out in a partial whimper, but you held it together. Your mind jumped back to a former thought. The same thought that led you to whatever it was you weren't ready to admit to yourself. But you did now. You admitted it! You had been for a long time and even though the image of the Panthers seemed uplifting, and Garvey and Malcolm’s words held you through each day, the down right naked truth was that you were absolutely and utterly powerless. That's what it was! A revelation had just emerged. You had no control over the situation with Melody, your brother's arrest, his murder. Your neglectful mother, America's mistreatment. The white power structure, Franklin and his choice to graduate to selling cocaine instead of the reefa he'd peddled for Jerome. None of it.

You watched him go and finally let your tears spill out as you exhaled.

………………………………….

Taglist: @megamindsecretlair @notapradagurl7 @hopelessdisasterr

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herqu33ndom-yourhighness · 3 months ago

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I don't mind being in a interracial relationship. First and foremost, I am a beautiful carbonated/melanated woman. I've dated interracially before. But, I think that there are things that need to be acknowledged about dating carbonated/melanated women. Just because you are sexually attracted to "black" women doesn't mean that you are not racist. Just because you fuck "black" women doesnt mean that you are not racist. Just because you have children with a "black" woman or "black" women doesn't mean that you are not racist. Harassing "black" women doesn't show affection. It shows ignorance and a mentality that's associated with racism. Thinking that you can treat a "black" woman terribly because you are with her is racism. If you are dating "black" women don't bring her around your racist punk ass family members. If you consider yourself as someone who is not racist, then you wouldn't have racist friends. 💯 If you are interested in "black" women and/or are with a "black" woman, it is your job to genuinely and divinely respect and value...not just the "black" woman that you are dating... but "black" women in general. This is a psa fall all non-carbonated/melanated men.

#interracial couple #interracial couples #dating #love #lovers #bwwm wmbw #my words #my post #black women #interracial dating

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melanated-divine · 11 months ago

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#kajun doll #gorgeous melanin women #dark chocolate #melanin poppin #melanated divine #beautiful dark skin #beautiful model

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gent-illmatic · 6 months ago

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moneeb0930 · 1 year ago

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The first statues of deities were melanated

India :

The first statues of the Indi-Kush pantheon were represented with melanated skin (Krishna, Kali etc,,) and before Buddha looked like a Chinese, he looked like us and was worshiped as such throughout Asia.

Mexico:

The Olmec civilization begins around 3400 before the birth of Lumumba, that is to say thousands of years before the Mayas and the Aztecs and the first divinities were represented with melanated skin, such as for example Ixtlilton (Little Black) comparable to Bes.

Egypt :

All early Neteru were also depicted with melanated skin, so the further back you go in the history of the Nile Delta the more Negroid the statues become.

Vietnam:

The first statues of the Vietnamese pantheon were also represented with melanated skin like for example Vishnu or Champa, and in this connection, the Chinese called the Empire Champa or the people of Cham, now known under the name of VietNam; the country of the Black Men.

Thailand:

The first statues of the Thai Pantheon were also represented with melanated skin and the old representation of Buddha had a very dark complexion and Africanid features.

Greece:

The first statues of the Greek pantheon were represented with melanated skin such as Afrodite, Heracles and many others.

Roma:

Many important deities were also represented with melanated skin such as Hermes or Isis.

China:

Even the first Chinese statues were represented in the same Africoid mold.

Russia:

The first representations of the Virgin and her Son were melanated , and they were revered as such throughout Europe until the idea of white supremacy arose. Russia and Poland still love the original images even if little by little the same bleaching phenomenon is gaining ground.

Cambodia:

Angkor Wat is a temple that was built in the 12th century by the Khmer king; Suryavarman and it is still considered the greatest religious monument in the world.

The Chinese have always portrayed the Khmer people as short.

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peachypizzicato · 2 years ago

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The Five Of Cups: An Open Letter to Dorian

Hey everyone! Welcome back to my soapbox (or, if you see this and by some divine happenstance don’t know me: Hi! I’m Felix! Or Anemone. I go by many names.)

As you can tell by my Big Boy Letters, I’m comin’ to talk about kind of a serious subject. At least, it’s serious to me anyway. I wanted to talk a bit about the game The Arcana. You know the one. The definitely not at all divisive one. That Arcana. (/s)

(Warning: I will be touching on depictions of racism, misogyny, anti indigenity, antisemitism, and just general mistreatment of marginalized people!)

TLDR; The Arcana is full of harmful portrayals of marginalized people and the fandom at large ignores it at best and encourages it at worst. The best thing we as the community can do is make it abundantly clear to the company that this is not okay and should not continue.

To be completely upfront here, I’m not going to be going in-depth on every single problem with the devs or the distributors or anything. We’re all busy people and there’s not nearly enough time in the day. But what I am going to do is touch on a few things I’ve witnessed firsthand that I think are worth sharing with the wider community.

One of the behaviors I’ve noticed most often is what I can only think to call… Strange treatment of the love interests. Not by everyone, mind you, but on a startlingly normal basis. Now, what do I mean by “strange”? Well, it really depends on the character honestly.

With Asra, much of the portrayals feel significantly more sexualized than that of their peers. Drawn and portrayed as if their body exists to be ogled by someone else rather than lived in by themself, y’know what I mean? That, combined with blatant orientalist imagery baked into much of their designs, makes for a feeling of feast or famine when seeking out content. And this isn’t even to comment on the intense focus on them as defined by their relationships to others– namely Julian– and all of the mischaracterization that comes with that.

It’s not much different in regard to Nadia, if you can believe it. The image of “step-on-me-queen dominatrix” cultivated by the original writers persists in the community, with overwhelming focus put on her body and her sexuality over anything else. Anyone who’s known me since I discovered the game knows I actually really liked her at first, but it’s hard to have a genuine attachment to a character who seldom even gets to have a personality outside of basic traits and Having Tits.

Julian is, admittedly, a difficult one. I am not jewish myself, but I’ve heard testimony from jewish fans that his portrayal is less than ideal (to put it lightly). At the very base, his design itself is riddled with common antisemitic imagery and was based primarily on a real brown-skinned jewish man whose melanated skin they excluded, surely coincidentally (/s). but it goes even further than that (depicting a jewish man as a bloodsucking vampire, anyone?). I don’t claim to speak for any groups I do not belong to, but with the knowledge I do have it simply makes things uncomfortable to witness.

Muriel. Oh, Muriel. Again, if you’ve known me for any significant amount of time, you probably knew I was dreading this. But as much as I’d like to think nothing could ever be wrong when he’s around, there are definitely problems. Now, I could go into all the issues with the way the writers concocted his route, his story, his character as a whole (brown man with a ~foreign~ type of magic lives in solitude in the woods and is “in tune with nature” to the point of communication, very original /s), what I really want to touch on here is how this informed the way the community treats him. Listen, I’m not gonna sugarcoat this, a lot of Muriel fans are not subtle about their (most often white, but not always) savior complexes. More times than I care to remember I’ve seen him babied, treated like he’s incompetent, made at best into an animal to be tamed and at worst into an uncontrollable monster. I’ve seen pieces of fanfiction call him, a very blatantly indigenous-coded character, a real actual slur. Not to mention how watering down the trauma he faced has become something of commonplace. And this isn’t even an exhaustive list of ways he’s mistreated! For as much as it makes me angry, it’s also extremely saddening. The devs and writers made one of their most genuine kindhearted characters into a metaphorical punching bag, and the community has only continued swinging for years afterward.

But, I think I’ve made my point. Moving on.

Portia is a combination of problems I’ve already touched on. Conveniently, all of the stereotypical traits that Julian inherited happened to skip right over his little sister. What didn’t skip over, however, was the gene of being shamelessly and gratuitously oversexualizing of her. Take a look at any of her CGs; most if not all of them are centered on her chest or otherwise use color and design to draw the eye there. Every one of her sprite outfits are low cut to show varying levels of cleavage. And the few vocal fans she does have only serve to perpetuate this over and over again. To be completely clear, there’s nothing wrong with characters who embrace their sexuality. That goes without saying. However, for being the one “plus-size” love interest– which really in this case only means short and curvy– the emphasis on her body over anything else about her is startling and sad.

Finally, we find Lucio. Our one ethnically white male love interest. You may be wondering how a character like that could possibly receive “strange treatment”. Or maybe you’re not. I will elaborate anyway. The biggest problem with Lucio, with the fans and absolutely with the teams behind the game, is and has been for the longest time the complete and utter lack of awareness of his role in the world and the consistent retroactive rewriting of his character. What I mean by that is this: Lucio, originally and in every route but his own, is blatantly written to be an unforgivably cruel and immoral man. He seeks the best treatment he can get while cityfolk all but die in his streets, he takes advantage of the kindness and generosity of others and punishes their trust. There are many assumptions that can be made but we are shown explicitly that he can know Asra, a child (as an adult himself), and make sexual advances on them in adulthood with absolutely no guilt. He blackmailed Muriel into being and staying his slave and in turn forced him to perform brutal public massacres for an indeterminate amount of time: all we know is that it was long enough for a colloquial name to become well known and for his appearance to grow unkempt and haggard. All this plus more things that I don’t even have the time to list. And yet, he is arguably one of the most popular characters. Take two steps into the fandom at large and you’ll see countless postings about how his childhood was so tragic and how he’s so very sorry, he’s just a little oopsie whoopsie uwu soft boy! The few times I personally have seen his horrible actions even addressed by his fans was to underplay them, to insinuate that he has it worse than anyone he hurt. In spite of, or maybe even because of his extensive list of broadly observable crimes, he thrives in the community. The people love him. I don’t think I really have to explain why this in particular is so extremely chilling to me.

So, with all of these things laid out… What now? We’ve acknowledged the problems, there’s pages upon pages of other posts outlining ones I didn’t even cover here, so now what do we do? What’s the solution?

The answer to this isn’t quite cut and dry. There’s no simple solution to murky waters that run as deep as these do. But, for what it’s worth, I have a few suggestions I’d like to propose.

First off, I understand that all of the routes are finished. They had all completed well before the Dorian acquisition, I’m fully aware of that fact. However, in regard to said acquisition, I feel as though Dorian dropped the ball when transferring the property to their own app (and I’m not even talking about the writing of the tales, which is its own can of worms). Rather than simply copy-pasting the routes from the existing app, things could’ve been redone, remade better. Problems could have been solved now that the game had gained new life. This was much of the inspiration behind my own reworking of the concept, to address the problems and fix them. I don’t even believe that it’s too late for them yet; routes have only just begun being uploaded to the Dorian app, in theory there’s still room to reconsider things.

But that’s the problem. I don’t believe that the crew behind Dorian really cares. I don’t believe the original development team or Nix Hydra crew really cared. If the people involved really cared about these problems, there was ample time within the last nearly five years to fix things. They did nothing. They continue to do nothing. People like me shout endlessly into the void, hoping someone will hear and actually listen to the issues happening within their game. But they don’t care. They continue to make money, they continue to draw in players, why should they? If racism and misogyny and every other form of bigotry under the sun doesn’t hurt their bottom line, why change anything? Why care, why change if the community at large not only ignores it but actively encourages and supports it? Why listen to criticism if you can just block it and soak up praise from your unconditional fans? Why?

As I said, I don’t have a simple solution for any of this. But I’ve made personal choices in my own life to give less of my time and money to the company. If I want merchandise, I seek out independent artists. If I want to see or read something again, I can find screencaps. As much as I miss certain things, I don’t play the game anymore. I can’t help being attached to characters who have been important to me for as long as I’ve known them, but what I can do is make purposeful choices in response to the affection I feel. Maybe my singular actions won’t mean anything to them, but specifically and purposefully refusing to support the profits of a fundamentally flawed game that doesn’t even have the self awareness to be ashamed of itself means everything to me.

Thanks for listening. I hope anyone who happened to make it to this point can take something good from my impassioned ramblings.

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