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beansprean · 1 year

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Why is your nandor so grey

I’m gonna assume this question is in good faith! The short answer is: bc he’s a vampire. The long answer is that I create vamp skin tones by taking a normal human skin tone and desaturating the fuck out of it - this advice is from an old “undead POC tutorial” post that was going around a while back (I spent like an hour trying to find it but my likes are 2k deep and tumblrs search function is a joke lol if anyone has it handy do link me). The basics of it were that when drawing POC as vampires or you don’t want to just make them lighter, because instead of looking dead they’ll just look white, and you can accomplish the “undead” look through desaturation instead. I tend to favor less saturated colors to begin with, but I still have plenty of room on the color wheel to maneuver. Here’s a quick comparison:

[ID: Graphic comparing human skin tones to vampire skin tones. The right side is labeled “humans” and has various screenshots of the artist’s drawings of human Guillermo and human Nandor along with a screenshot of a color wheel with Nandor’s human skin tone selected - a yellow boned medium brown. Text by the color says “wow the vitamin D”. The right side is labeled “vampires” and has various screenshots of the artist��s drawings of vampire Guillermo and vampire Nandor along with a screenshot of a color wheel with Nandor’s vampire skin tone selected. Compared to the human color, it is heavily desaturated and slightly lighter, resulting in a sickly beige. Text by the color says “fuck I died”. Text between the wheels says “saturation goes down!” \end ID]

Something else I do is change the cheek color! As a general stylistic choice, I put a multiply layer over my skin layer at 50% opacity and airbrush the character’s skin color over their cheeks and nose to give them a little extra life and color. Two things antithetical to vampires! So when coloring my vamps instead of using their regular skin color for that, I use the opposite color on the color wheel (usually a blueish gray, but greener in Nadja’s case)! You can see it in the graphic above - that blue circle opposite Nandor’s skin tone is what I grab. And they blush purple instead of red!

[ID: Floating head drawing of vampire Derek, skin a dusty desaturated dark brown, a bluish airbrushed line over his face and cheeks flushed purple. An arrow points right to a matching floating head drawing of human Derek, skin a rich dark brown, a darker airbrushed line over his face and cheeks flushed red. Below is a screenshot of the “humanity restored” text from dark souls. /end ID]

Anyway this isn’t a tutorial or anything, just a lil insight on how I make colors and the logic behind the vampification! Feel free to steal my tactics if you like lmao

#art but not really #vampires #I’m not great at color theory but I find what works for me and am always open for feedback #wwdits #poc vampires

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vampirepyramidscheme · 1 year

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Something for the vampire lovers out there!

Vampires of Color: Crimson Pride features the work of 20 creators, including full color illustrations, a mini comic, short stories and novel excerpts, and even a TTRPG game! All works are centered around BIPOC vampires and zine profits will be donated to the Sickle Cell Disease Association of America (a disease which greatly impacts the BIPOC community).

Preorders are open until 1/7/2023 - get your copy here: bit.ly/VOCzine

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thevampirearchive · 4 months

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Happy New Year, may 2024 be the year of more sexy deadly vampires - especially black and brown vampires, even if I have to bring them forth myself.

Cheers

#thoughts #poc vampires

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scrivenerofchaos · 2 months

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Shadows of Faith 1/3

SUMMARY - In "Shadows of Faith: The Corruption of Sweet Carmilla," we follow the story of Carmilla, a devout young woman who anticipates a traditional marriage arranged by her parents. However, as her wedding day approaches, Carmilla's nightmares grow increasingly vivid and disturbing. She finds herself consumed by hunger in her dreams and haunted by the sensation of being watched. Amidst the chaos of her nightmares, a seductive voice calls out to her, whispering her name, "Carmilla." This voice belongs to Desdemona who reveals to Carmilla that she will eventually lose her faith, at which point she will be ripe for the taking.

Carmilla’s Nightmare

Carmilla relished in her morning walk around the Everhart family grounds. A grand estate, purposefully decorated for each season and occasion from Gregory, her father’s library to Genevieve, her mother’s painting studio to the classroom where she and her brother, Benjamin, were taught etiquette and culture of the world. Carmilla followed the well-trodden grassy path created from years of her foremothers footsteps. The sun warmed her deep skin, likened to the soil of Mother Earth. She glided her bare feet across the blades of grass and dirt to be cooled before taking another tentative step forward. Her house was a home filled with memories she’d cherish forever.

She wondered how she could feel at home on her fiancé, Irvine’s land. He was, “a fine young man,” according to her father. A stranger to her. She couldn’t help her thoughts turning to dreadful things. All the musing made her head spin. A sinking feeling formed in her stomach. These were not the butterflies she read about in her romance novels. It was a more familiar feeling. She was hungry.

She sat at the dining table. It stretched the length of the room. There were no decorations centered, there was nothing on the table at all - no plates, cutlery or crystal. She didn’t think it was odd, that her family were not in attendance. But the servants were nowhere to be found as well. The entire estate seemed devoid of people. She was alone and suddenly became aware of it.

Everything was still and quiet. Not even her old home made a sound, not a creak or settling noise. Carmilla struggled to remember how she got here, sitting at the empty grand table alone. Her memory faded, her skin still felt the warmed by the sun. She remembered that she was outside once. Why couldn’t she remember that?

Suddenly, a sharp pain shot through her. Nothing else mattered, she was starving. She made a move to leave the table, when she smelled the most delicious meal. A feast materialized before her, tempting her senses with its tantalizing aroma. She wanted nothing more than to take the food in her hands and bring it to her lips. In confusion, she hesitated, a fleeting thought came crossed her mind, how’d this get here?

The gnawing hunger roared in her gut. Without hesitation she took bite after bite, hardly chewing, hardly breathing as she gulped each morsel down, each tastier than the last. She felt she would never get full. The more she ate the greater the pain grew in her stomach. She was so hungry, the food intoxicating, she could hardly get a hold of herself.

A voice, velvety and commanding, pierced the silence, calling out her name, “Carmilla.” The voice was strong enough to break whatever curse compelled her to eat without sense. She pulled herself away from the plate.

There at the opposite end of the table, a dark figure sat, still and quiet yet their presence filled the room. The air was dense, heavy. Carmilla struggled to breathe. She couldn’t see the stranger’s face as it was shrouded in darkness, she felt the tingle of eyes watching her.

Carmilla swallowed the last morsel, before attempting to speak. She felt the urge to ask the dark visitor a question yet she didn’t know what. She whipped her face with a crisp white napkin made of cloth. As she returned the napkin on the table, a bright red stain caught her eye. She froze in confusion at the sight of it - it was blood.

In shock, she put her hand to her face and felt the congealed blood cling between her fingers, sticking them together, they formed ribbons as she pulled her fingers apart. She looked down at her plate as if that would grant her answers. That it did, in horror.

As she struggled to comprehend the gore before her, the stranger’s voice, resonating, a haunting melody like chimes in the wind, “Carmilla.”

The room smelled of fresh cut flowers. She felt a powerful urge to shift her focus on the stranger at the end of the table. Yet, She couldn’t break her gaze from the carnage before her on the silver platter.

She couldn’t make sense of what she was seeing. She shook her head in disbelief. “No, no, no,” Carmilla shook her head, covering her bloodied face with her soiled hands.

A familiar warmth enveloped her, “Carmilla,” sang her mother.

Her mother’s voice, a sweet escape from the hellish nightmare. She sat beside her daughter, eager to start the day, holding fresh clothes and water in hand for her, “my darling, Carmilla.”

Carmilla jerked awake, startled but grateful to be free of the deep sleep. The sun’s raze flooded her bed chambers. A look of relief washed over her beautiful sweaty face.

“You look like you’ve seen a ghost. Bad dreams again, my sweetling?” Her mother inquired, concern evident in her voice.

“Yes, but”, her mind losing the grip of the dream that felt more like a fading memory, “I can’t seem to remember it at all.”

”Ah, what a blessing then. We can focus on more important matters.” She set her daughter’s day clothes on the bed and poured a pitcher of warm water in the washing bowl. She gleefully continued, “We have wedding dresses to try on. They’ve just arrived this morning.”

Carmilla sat up slowly, the lingering fear of her dream made her feel sluggish. She felt the familiar feeling in her abdomen. She lifted her covers to reveal fresh blood staining her bed linen and sleep gown. Her mother, unshaken by the sight, did not hesitate to ring the bell for the servants’ assistance.

”Do not fret. We’ll get you freshened up.” Her mother assured her with confidence.

“I guess I won’t be trying on any dresses today?” Carmilla asked, disappointed.

”We can still peruse the selection,” she held her daughter’s hand, “You just rest. The first day of bleeding is always the worst. I will have the servants bring you your favorite.”

Her mother made a gesture to the servants without speaking a word. They moved in an organized fashion. They prepared a copper tub for bathing and fresh clothes for bleeding days.

She was served a plate of duck bacon, buttered toast with apple-cinnamon jam, freshly cut fruits and berries with black tea. Gazing at her food she felt a hint of nervousness but couldn’t remember why.

Her mother distracted her from her anxious thoughts, ”When you feel better, we can take a stroll around the grounds if you desire. Exercise is good for you, especially on your Moon-day.”

She recalled the serenity of walking, then the dreadful feeling returned as if anticipating the other shoe to drop. The emotion soon passed, fainter now and weaker, she focused on other matters.

She forced a weak smile, ”I’d like that very much.”

In the dressing hall, several rows of pearly white wedding garb displayed before them, waiting to be chosen by Carmilla. She and her mother studied the dresses intently before moving to the next. A servant follows them closely, writing down their comments about each garment.

”Number…34,” Carmilla paused, making sure the servant wrote it down before continuing.

”I love the lace trim on the bodice,” her mother commented, the servant feverishly writing.

”It’s a bit tight here,” Carmilla criticized.

“We’ll send it to the tailor, of course,” her mother reassured, she couldn’t find a bad word to say about any dress, she loved them all.

The mention of a tailor and Carmilla’s mind reeled with thoughts. Each trousseau felt like clouds beneath Carmilla’s fingers. This was everything she dreamed of since she was thirteen years old. She had libraries full of diaries, vision journals and scrapbooks packed with artist’s illustrations, poems from classic writers, and her own prayers detailing her perfect life to come; her perfect wedding, her perfect husband and perfect children. Choosing the perfect dress with her mother completes one task from the list of to-do’s.

Carmilla decided to do a combination of her mother’s wedding dress and something new. Her mother’s wedding dress, passed down for five generations, didn’t quite fit her body type. She had wider hips and a deeper bosom than her mother. The sense of style had changed over the years, Carmilla desired to make a dress of her own.

The dress would be tailored by none other than the bride-to-be’s best friend, Emily. She was more than an expert tailor, she knew every curve of Carmilla’s body as they were once interested in heavy petting on the long and lonely nights.

Emily’s affections couldn’t be returned by Carmilla. It was unclear if it was the pressures of tradition and religion, economic status, or the fact that Carmilla couldn’t see herself happily wed to someone who couldn’t give her children.

Her mother would say, “Have your fun with the girl now. When the time comes to make the family and your God proud, you must get married to someone who can provide for you as you provide them with future children.”

Emily is a tradeswoman. Carmilla is an Everhart. The Everharts amassed a great fortune from once being tradespeople several centuries ago. Now the family is a thriving business. Taking their special friendship seriously would be going backwards down the poverty line.

When Carmilla envisioned her perfect wedding, it was her betrothed that flooded her mind’s eye, not Emily. Her husband-to-be, is Irvine Quartermaine. A man her father approved of. He was of good stock, wealthy, and he’s a devout follower of Easis, like the Everhart’s. A perfect match for sweet Carmilla.

And yet, she desired nothing more than to be held by Emily again. She couldn’t shake the forgotten nightmare, she had grown accustomed to Emily’s support. The ill-faded dream slipping from her mind like smoke in the air. She couldn’t tell if the sinking feeling in her gut was from her cycle or the ill night visions. No, this aching was deeper, the pain lingered in the body, like the dull soreness of fatigued muscles.

She remembered the sleepovers of her younger days. Carmilla grew up sickly and bedridden most days. Emily would keep her company during those challenging times. They’d hold hands as Emily fed her because she was too weak to lift the spoon. When Carmilla woke up screaming, Emily would be there, holding her in her arms. She wondered if Irvine was as kind and gentle. He had to be, she dashed the thought of doubt, if he follows Easis’ teachings he has to be a good man. But what if he isn’t? Her stomach turned at the thought of her dreams being dashed. She closed her eyes and hurriedly plucked a pale bridal gown from the rack.

Her mother smiled happily before confusion appeared on her face, “This one, love?”

She nodded her head before muttering, “I don’t feel well,” and hurried out the room.

The day yielded to the night. Carmilla drank chamomile tea to soothe her nerves. The uneasiness of the day melted into the rhythm of night. Cicadas sang and the cool breeze rustled the tree leaves. She looked at her bed intently before making her way to the walk-in closet. She borrowed through a forest of hanging clothes to reach a wooden box. She knelt before it as if praying. She opened the box to reveal an aged charm. This trinket was handmade. She gently took the charm into her hands and hugged it to her chest.

“It was only one bad dream,” her mother’s solemn voice came from behind her.

“I haven’t lost faith like you,” she walked past her mother to her bed.

Author's Notes: My inspiration - "Write about the love you've always wanted," My sibling told me.

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luxus-aeterna · 1 year

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une vieille âme à Nouvelles Orléans

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prettykittycastle · 1 year

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Birthday

Summary: The reader wakes Elijah up with a great surprise.

(The reader is AFAB, but gender-neutral and uses they/them pronouns. The ethnicity/race is any.)

(Content Warning: Blowjob, handjob, facefucking, dirty talk, slight degradation, cum swallowing)

It was quite rare for Elijah to get a full night's rest. The constant threats to his family's well-being and the constant eye on Klaus' whereabouts and the things he was doing tended to prevent Elijah from getting his proper rest and relaxation, but today and tonight was different. All day long, his siblings weren't as chaotic as usual, even Klaus didn't bother him much. He found it strange at the time, but decided to enjoy it while it last. And now, he laid in his bed, enjoying a dreamless sleep that was rare for him to come by.

My god, he thought, his eyes still closed. Suddenly during his dreamless sleep, a strange, but amazing sensation was beginning in his stomach and was slowly moving downward. It felt like light kisses was being laid upon his stomach. He wanted to open his eyes to see what it was, but found that he was too tired to even attempt.

"Mmm," he whimpered, furrowing his brows. When the kisses started going near his waist, the sensation slightly changed from light kisses to something wet running across his skin. "Fuck," he moaned, thrusting his crotch up tiredly at whoever was doing this.

He felt a hand gently press his hips down, before feeling another begin working his sleeping pants down off his hips. He could feel the chill of the air hit his semi-hard member, and the chill made it twitch.

"So big," he heard a voice whisper.

"Oh," he moaned lowly, feeling a soft hand take hold of him. Before he could try to figure out who the voice belonged to, he felt a sudden warm wetness run across the underside of himself, making him harder.

"Oh shit," he cursed.

"You like that, Elijah," the voice asked. "You like me tasting your dick?"

"Y-Yes," he moaned, struggling to think clearly.

"Good," the voice replied.

The wetness continued to run along his length, all the way to the tip, and when he thought it couldn't get better, he felt a another hand softly grasp one of his balls and gently rolled it in their palm.

The sensation was too great and finally with a loud moan, he forced his eyes open. He looked down his body and saw that his shirt was pushed up to his chest and like he thought, his sleeping pants was low on his hips, almost to his knees.

"Oh dear," he exhaled as he laid his eyes upon you, his precious love, licking the tip of his member and rubbing his balls in your hand. "(Y/N), what-?"

Before he could continue his question, you slipped more of his member into your mouth, the taste of him on your tongue made you moan around him.

"Oh, please," Elijah whimpered, thrusting himself more into your mouth and sliding into your throat.

"Mmm," you moaned around him again, making him throw his head back against his pillow.

"(Y/N)," he repeated your name, his voice weak and broken.

"What you want, baby," you asked, slowly sliding your mouth off of him and wrapping your other hand around the lower part of his member, your grip firm, but not too firm, just how he liked it. "Tell me what you want."

You put your mouth back on him and began to slowly slid him back into your mouth, his tip going down your throat. When you couldn't fit anymore of him in your mouth, you began stroking the rest of him, and continued to fondle his balls.

"Oh, please," He whimpered again, lifting his head and looking back down to you, his eyes half open and half closed and his handsome face scrunched up in pleasure. "(Y/N), my love-" he cut himself as he let out another moan.

"Mmm," you moaned around him again before slowly pulling off of him, your mouth now wet with your saliva. "What you want, baby? I wanna know." You let go of his balls and used that hand to stroke the upper half of him, while the other one continued to stroke the lower half, your left over saliva helping you stroke him better. "You want me to keep jerking you off like this?"

"Uuh," He groaned.

His eyes began to droop more and more closed out of pleasure, but he tried to fight off the urge and keep his gaze on you. The sight of the noble, always put-together Mikaelson falling apart like this because of you made you wetter than you ever felt and you knew nothing could compare to this feeling.

As you continued to stroke him, you noticed his hips beginning to lift up every time your hands stroked up to his tip. The sight of his muscular hips thrusting up like that brought an idea to your mind and you decided to slow down your strokes, making sure he could be coherent enough to hear you.

"Elijah, honey," you said.

He opened his mouth to speak, but found that he couldn't. The pleasure was too much for him. Instead he nodded his head at you to let you know he was listening.

"Tell me,...you wanna fuck my mouth?"

Just the question alone made the original let another moan and he quickly nodded his head at you.

He raised his hands and gently unwrapped yours from around him, and you placed them next to his thighs. Taking his member in his hand, he gave his self a few strokes, keeping his gaze on you and you could tell by the renewed look in his eyes that he would not be gentle with you.

"Come here," he said, holding his self out to you, his tip pointing straight at your mouth. Instantly you leaned forward and took him in your mouth.

"More," you heard him say, before you felt his other hand at the back of your head, pushing your mouth further down on him, his tip already hitting your throat.

"Oh yes," he exhaled, lifting his hips and thrusting more of himself into your mouth, making you gag. "Take it all," he said, pulling out for a second then thrusting back in deeply, the action making you gag again and your eyes began to slightly water.

"You're such a slut," he told you, pulling back out. "Waking me up to fuck your mouth. How pathetic." He thrusted back in roughly, making you gag a little harder than before.

"Oh was that too much, dear," he asked, chuckling, tiredly. "Too bad."

He moved his hand from the back of your head to your cheek and moved his other hand to the other one, holding both sides of your face, while he was still deep down your throat.

"You ready, love," he asked you.

"Mm-hmm," you hummed around him, making him moan.

"Good," he said, then pulled halfway out. You took a deep breath, already knowing what he was about to do and getting wetter at the thought of it.

He thrusted back into your mouth, going into your throat, then pulled back out and repeated.

He began to roughly fuck your mouth, each thrust making you gag and moan around his member, making him let out moans and whimpers.

"Fuck, yes," he grunted, his grip on you getting tighter with each thrust. "You fucking whore. Just take it!" The speed of his thrusts suddenly increased and you could feel your saliva dripping from around the corners of your mouth and onto the bedsheets beneath you two.

"Is this what you wanted? For me to fuck your face like this?" You could see his legs beginning to tense and the rhythm of his thrusts were becoming out of control.

"You want me to come in your mouth, slut," he asked, his voice becoming more desperate and broken with each thrust.

"Mm-hmm," you hummed around him again, your mouth vibrating around him.

"Yes, yes, yes," he repeated as his hips suddenly had a mind of their own and began thrusting more wildly, his hands falling from your face and landing on the bed, as the pleasure overwhelmed him.

"Shit," he grunted, he finally stopped thrusting. His head fell back on his pillow as his cum began shooting down your throat.

Even though his hands were no longer on your face, holding you, you still held him in your mouth and tried to swallow as cum as you could.

"Oh," he moaned loudly, his body now melting into the mattress as his orgasm ran through him.

Slowly sliding your mouth off of him, you couldn't help but smile at the sight of your boyfriend being completely relaxed, his body no longer showing any stress or frustration like usual.

"What-" he paused, trying to speak through his post-orgasm hazed mind. "What was that?"

He lifted his head and looked at you with such love and adoration that you couldn't help the fire that began to spread in your core. Ignore it, you urged yourself. Not yet.

"What did I do," he stopped again, out of breath then continued, "to deserve such a wake up call like this?"

"What did you do," you crawled up his body, laying soft kisses on his stomach on the way up and grinned as his body twitched with each kiss. "You were born."

"What," he asked, confused.

Giggling, you kissed him on the mouth, then kissed his cheek. "Happy Birthday, Elijah."

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theinsomniacindian · 2 months

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In theory, I'm dark academia. In practice, I'm chaotic academia

#i don't have any fancy clothes nor do i attend a gothic university with vampires lurking amongst the student body #the closest thing to dark academia that i possess is burnt out gifted kid syndrome #i was that one kid you'd find reading books or doodling at the back of the classroom and just wanted to go home and not study at all #chaotic academia is more my style because of its unrefinedness that makes it really versatile and relatable in a way #dark academia #dark academia aesthetic #indian dark academia #poc dark academia #chaotic academia #chaotic academic aesthetic #indian chaotic academia #poc chaotic academia #the insomniac archives

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itgurlmin · 1 year

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beansprean · 1 year

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Hello, first of all I love your art but I noticed you color Nandor with grey/blue blush which I’m sure is just part of your art style but I wanted to let you know that it sort of falls back into early western drawings of arab or farisi ( or typically eastern ) characters in purplish or so grey skin. ( for ref. Check early comic book drawings of Ras Al Ghul ) just wanted to let you know ! Thank you

( also it’s ok if you want to delete this ask )

Hello! I’ve addressed this before in this post - I desaturate from human skin tones to create vampire skin tones, so I neither have vampires looking hale and healthy or poc looking white as hell. This is true for all the vamps I draw; Nandor’s is just more noticeable because he’s darker than Laszlo and Nadja. Derek is pretty gray, though! You can also see when I draw Nandor as a human, his skin is brown.

I did research some into your historical concerns but I’m sorry to say I wasn’t able to find anything. I looked through a bunch of early western orientalist art, caricatures, and political cartoons and looked into typical depictions of middle eastern peoples in western culture, but none of the resources I found seemed to depict blue/gray skin or mention it as a common racial stereotype. But maybe I wasn’t using the right keywords? I also looked up early depictions of Ra’s Al Ghul, but I only found one cover where he looked quite blue (and apparently no one can decide what his actual ethnicity is lmao).

Please let me know if there are specific artists, articles, or other resources I should be looking for! I would like to ensure I’m educated on this topic and if I may want to revisit my palette to raise his saturation or something.

#poc vampires #not art #anonymous

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yippeeangel · 25 days

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traditional gothic beauty 🖤🦇

#goth #goth girl #gothic #trad goth #vampire #vampire goth #romantic goth #bats nest #gothstyle #goth hair #alternative makeup #alternative #eyeliner #graphic eyeliner #goth makeup #makeup #vampiric #poc goth

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nandorsrelentless · 18 days

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there seems to be far too many fans who can't seem to wrap their head around the fact that no relationship in the Vampire Chronicles is healthy. every relationship includes an element of abuse/power imbalance by normal standards. literally every single one.

they are all monsters who are no longer constrained by societal rules. so I don't think it's too crazy to expect them to do mosntorus things. the genre is Gothic HORROR. the show really prioritizes the HORROR element more so than other adaptaions, which i love.

i don't need louis to be a liar to enjoy lestat. if louis lied or misremebered things about the fight in episode 5, i literally do not care because it's never gonna make me hate louis. the baseline of what constitutes "evil" or "bad" is so different in iwtv because of the fact that they are NOT HUMAN. Claudia is literally a serial killer and she's still mother to me. ykwim?

the nature of vampirism is they have to kill to survive. so it would be really cool if people could accept louis, armand, and claudia as complex characters who are fundamentally not good people (because they aren't people!) without being racist about it. THEY ARE ALL KILLERS

im more interested in this exploration of the complexities of memory and seeing how the show integrates the other books into this story in a way that hasn't been done before than I am in discoursing about whether louis is a liar or not. who gives a shit???? grow up and realize that there are no good guys here and that's OKAY

#iwtv #tvc #lestat de lioncourt #louis de pointe du lac #interview with the vampire #amc iwtv #I pretty much cleansed all my feeds so i dont actually see much racism more so than i see people talking about it #just some random thoughts i guess in the wake of the new trailer just because i know things are gonna get weird #it would be nice if audiences could be trusted with complex and morally grey characters of color but idk #but i also think the fact that there are racists is not a reason to NOT make poc characters who are complex #same goes for the people who will interpret the portrayal of a morally grey poc character AS racist #there are certain tropes i think that are always going to have racist implications ofc and im not trying to discount that #but lets all be real here and realize that revisiting ep 5 to add more layers to it is NOT going to exonerate lestat by any means #add more complexity and layers and possibly show that louis was not AS helpless as he showed himself to be? maybe #but they are not going to exonerate the white character to make the black character look evil #idk if any of this made sense im just stream of consciousness rambling

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scrivenerofchaos · 2 months

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Shadows of Faith

SUMMARY

TLDR: Rich little gay girlie goes through religio-spirito crisis

In “Shadows of Faith: The Corruption of Sweet Carmilla,” we follow the story of Carmilla, a devout young woman who anticipates a traditional marriage arranged by her parents. However, as her wedding day approaches, Carmilla’s nightmares grow increasingly vivid and disturbing. She finds herself consumed by hunger in her dreams and haunted by the sensation of being watched. Amidst the chaos of her nightmares, a seductive voice calls out to her, whispering her name, “Carmilla.” This voice belongs to Desdemona who reveals to Carmilla that she will eventually lose her faith, at which point she will be ripe for the taking.

Character's so far...

Carmilla Everhart (MC)

Main Character (MC)

Eye: Maroon Brown

Hair: Brown, tight coils

Height: 5'5"

Race/Ethnicity: If she was in our reality she would be Black/Bulani or African American

Their Vibe: Rich little gay girlie going through a religio-spirito crisis (tbh: this could be the summary actually)

Genevieve Everhart

Relation to Main (RTM): Mother

Hair: Brown

Eyes: Maroon Brown

Height: 5" 7"

Race/Ethnicity: Black/Bulani or African American

Their Vibe: A girl's girl, Thee Muva with no drama, she means business, about that action, don't play with Gennie Gen, she likes her husband deeply, she loves three things only: her children, resources ($$$$), and herself

Gregory Everhart

RTM: Father

Eyes: Brown

Hair: Brown

Height: 5' 8"

Race/Ethnicity: Black/Bulani or AA

Their Vibe: sweet man, good man, a bit misguided, he means well but fucks up occasionally

Benjamin Everhart

RTM: Big Brother

Eyes: Brown

Hair: Brown

Height: 5'9"

Race/Ethnicity: Black/Bulani or AA

Their Vibe: definition of like father like son bc he is a carbon copy of his damn daddy

Author's Note:

If you have made it this far, thank you for reading. I appreciate you taking time to read my stuff. This little idea of mine keeps me going in ways no one could ever know.

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chronic-escapixt · 5 months

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KAI PARKER MASTERLIST (NSFW):

content warnings/tags ~ Dark fiction, CNC, dubcon, non-con, yandere, murder, abuse, trauma, stalking, dacraphilia, smut, rough sex, degradation, spanking, age gap, size kink, unhealthy dom/sub relationship, punishment, bondage, knife kink, blood, choking, kidnapping, breeding, unprotected sex, overstimulation (specific warnings will be listed on each post) Minors DNI

summary - His anger festered over the years, all plans for revenge seemingly hopeless until she arrives. Rose Bennett made a choice to save her sister, ending up in the 1994 prison world where she’s unknowingly at the mercy of Kai Parker. He woos her with his charm, determined to use her power for his freedom and her body for his darker intentions.

I don't claim ownership of The Vampire Diaries or its characters. All credits go to the rightful owner(s). I only own my original character(s). I suggest you read the details post because it includes the background of our main characters and important lore specific to the fic.

Table of contents:

Details

Part 1

Part 2

Part 3

Part 4

Part 5

Part 6

Part 7

Part 8

**status: work in progress**

Dark Kai Parker x POC reader imagines & oneshots:

I prefer to use Rosalina (nickname: Rose or Rosy) Bennett as a placeholder for Y/N. They both serve the same function as the only relevant descriptions of the characters are that she is POC and a Bennett witch.

Mine Forever - heretic!Kai x vampire!reader - Kai forces an unwilling reader to turn so he'll never have to lose her

A Deal with the Devil (Part 1) (Part 2)- witch!Kai x Bennett!reader - dubcon, cnc kidnapping

Sweet like Candy - witch!Kai x innocent!reader - foodplay

Bad at Love

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penncilkid · 8 months

Text

Alright, I'll bite. (Sparked by this post) I'm gonna preface this with some context:

First off: I'm Black in case you're unaware

Huxley is my favorite speaker. Full stop. You ask me to choose, it’ll always be him.

Likewise, you ask for my favorite listeners, I will say Starlight and Darlin'. (I'll save my Starlight rant for another day)

My designs for both Huxley and Darlin are Black.

With this in mind, I want to be clear from the jump: I don’t have an inherent problem with these headcanons. If I did, I wouldn’t have chosen then myself. That said, I have noticed that Hux and Darlin are, more often than not, the characters that get headcanoned as POC (specifically Black) in design rosters. In some cases, they are the only POC designs present. Why is that?

Furthermore, the more often I notice this pattern so to speak, the more I sit and think about why those headcanons are so popular. I find my answer when I think about the characters I see headcanoned as white most often. Tell me why it’s "practically canon" for Lasko to be pale with light/white hair. Tell me why white Sam "just makes sense". Why? Because Lasko's a nerdy ball of nerves that stumbles over his words? Because Sam’s a sweet Southern man at heart? Those are not inherently white attributes.

Except they're treated as such. They go virtually unchallenged because they're so widely accepted by fandom. People see these personalities and character details and come up with their vision. So, let's apply that to Huxley and Darlin, shall we?

Huxley: Athlete. Canonically implied to be big, as indicated by statements made by him and other members of the DAMN crew. Classified as a himbo with parallels in Imperium highlighting how some will view him as stupid. Overall chill vibe.

Darlin: Reckless with their safety. Known to lash out/lose control of their emotions when they’re not actively hiding them. Gets injured often because they’re too stubborn to run from trouble. An overall intense demeanor that makes them difficult to approach (at least at first).

Explain to me why this screams Black to so many people. Is it because Huxley's a dumb jock who you imagine gets stoned all the time? Oh, is it perhaps because Darlin is just so aggressive compared to your Golden Retriever-coded Asher, needing to be calmed down by everyone around them? And here's the thing: I can already imagine people saying, "That's not why I made them Black". Then explain why it "just makes sense" for them to Black. Why them out of a sea of characters? Make it make sense.

Now let me make this clear as well: I'm not expecting every headcanon to have elaborate thought behind it. For one, I get that some people take a more casual approach with designs and such. Not every choice has to have a reason or justification behind it. But when literally 95% of the Huxley designs I see are Black and half of y'all don't even know what a fucking durag is? Saying it leaves a bad taste in my mouth is putting it lightly.

You know what I wish I saw more of? Black Huxleys and Darlins with attached nuance.

Give me a Black Darlin who struggles to articulate how they feel with the people in their lives because they haven't been readily given the language to do so. You want to pair a Black Darlin with a White Sam? Why not talk about how POC have an insanely difficult time getting support from the medical system so not only does it explain why Darlin is so resistant to go to healers, but also gives an extra weight to the fact that Sam was their absolute last resort when injured? Give me a Black Darlin who has been taught their entire life that no one will have their back, that they need to learn how to depend on themself alone, and that's the reason why they struggle to feel like the pack would've cared when the Quinn shit went on.

You wanna talk Black Huxleys? Let's touch on how he's learned to control his emotions/anger because he knows how people will take it if it comes from someone who looks like him. Talk about how his moms teaching him not to use violence speaks to a deeper desire for him not to be viewed as a threat because they fear for his life otherwise. In one of his BAs, he mentions how a lot of people used to sleep with him/flirt with him solely because of his body and he could tell. Do you know how often black men are sexualized and fetishized? Why not talk about it through him? I see people explore that concept through Gavin constantly, where's the energy for Huxley? You wanna make him Black so bad, why not actually put some thought behind it? Because right now, it seems like he gets the "luxury" of being the token Black guy in the DAMN friend group at best.

I know a lot of people are probably going to dismiss this post. I am already anticipating that as I write this. But I'm so tired of pretending like this shit doesn't get to me. Because it does. I've got no intentions of leaving this fandom because I have met so many amazing people and adore Erik's content immensely. But what I am going to do is talk about the widespread normalization of attributing certain personality traits to certain racial groups. Because the non-white people in this fandom deserve better than that.

#redacted audio #redacted asmr #This doesn't stop with Hux and Darlin btw /neg #'Cause I could talk about the way y'all handle Gavin Damien and David too #And do not get me started on the vampires #I know to a lot of people this isn't that deep #But as someone who has watched POC creators and designs be overlooked time and time again?#I can't force anyone to do anything #But I can call it like I see it

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