#quarter spanish white

[antiquebras]

#gab lou #men #sw: black #crowshead #quarter spanish white #dixie #antique brass #mule fawn

[pamietniko]

Las Ramblas

Barcelona, Spain

#Spain #analogue #35mm #film photography #tumblr photographer #photographers on tumblr #barcelona #spanish architecture #gothic architecture #gothic quarter #Barri Gòtic #Street Photography #street art #balcony #terrace #black and white photography

[certainlynotasimp]

can i req miguel and sunshine where she has a BUNCH of hickeys but shes too nice to make fun of so the spiders tease miguel instead?

Just A Taste

(Miguel O' Hara x Female! Reader)

A/N: Omg this is so funny and cute!!! I was kinda struggling writing this because I was like, 'How much is too much for hickeys?'. It's currently hot as hell where I live and so you can tell where that inspo comes from this can be read as a part 2 or a sister fic to Just A Bite. I almost made it an unofficial part 2.25 to Our Girl, but I changed my mind. Also, I'm sorry it's a little short, but I hope you like it.

A/N: I also really wanna try that sorbet thingy where they come in the fruit shells if you know what I'm talking about. If you love this then please check out the master list and if you wanna be kept informed about updates on the Miggy and Sunny series, then comment on this taglist and you'll be added.

WARNINGS: Grumpy x Sunshine, Female reader/ Female pronouns, Barely any use of Y/N ((Sunny is her nickname, not her actual name)), OOC Characters, Flirty Miguel, Some implications of NSFW content, and Google Translated Spanish.

~~~~~~~~

It was very rare that it would get so hot that Miguel would be laid back with the rules. He held everyone to a certain standard when it came to being a part of his elite task force and he was a stickler for them to act like it. Despite this, he only expected three rules to remain to be followed at all times.

All Spidermen can’t travel to other worlds without notice.

Spidermen can’t travel without a mask on to protect the identity of all Spidermen.

Everyone has to wear their spider suits at all times.

Unfortunately, certain circumstances don't really allow certain rules to be followed reasonably. Especially when it involves people with special circumstances.

Such as this.

“Miggy!” A soft whine emits from the chair beside him as the woman sat upside down. Her unmasked face felt hot as a light sheen of sweat made her beautiful face glow against the soft light of the monitor. “It’s so hot…I thought you said Lyla would fix the air hours ago.” 

Miguel rolls his eyes at the sight of her feet lightly hanging over the top of the chair as. “Mi amor, if you stay like that, you’re gonna have a lot more to worry about than a heat stroke.” He playfully pinches her ankle as he grabs a tablet from the table, fanning his own burning skin.

Due to a massive heat wave, Earth-928 was experiencing the hottest summer it has ever had in history, causing Lyla’s A/C system to malfunction. The Lobby was left a broiling mess with Spidermen refusing to come by until the AI’s systems are rebooted. Only a handful of spiders were on base with the residential sweetheart suffering the most since she lives there.

“Can I please take this off?” She moans as she swings up and shoots him those dreaded puppy dog eyes. 

“Oh?” Miguel quirks an eyebrow as his eyelids lower. A playful smile graces his handsome face as he chastises. “I didn’t expect you to be so risky, mi sol.”

A flurry of butterflies spread out in her gut as she glares at Miguel. His response is to chuckle as that pretty glossed lip pokes out as she scolds him, “Not like that, Miguel, and you know it. This suit feels like a furnace and I just want to relax…”

The idea of his cute little lover prancing around in the nude would be an interesting idea to Spiderman, but he knew that his love would never agree to do that with others in the Head Quarters. Miguel bites his lip as he contemplates torturing his arañita some more, but he decides to show mercy as he relents.

“Alright, mi amor.” He sighs as he allows his own suit to dissipate, exposing the tight black tank top and tight athletic pants. “Pero tendrás que cumplir esa pequeña fantasía mía más tarde, mi niña bonita.”

His remark is ignored as she stands up from her cheer with a quiet “fuck yea”. After tinkering with her gizmo, the black and white suit disappears revealing her white tank top and black running shorts, but Miguel couldn’t help but smirk at the blotches of bruises that marred her skin.

Just before he could comment on it, the door opens as a voice complains, “YO BIG MAN! You need to tell that computer to fix this air!”

Another voice accompanies the new yorker's as the tall Brit yells out. “It’s sweltering here, man!”

Ben and Hobie came to a halt as they see their friend smile at them. “Hey, guys!” Sunny calls and waves at them while their faces grow ten degrees hotter.

The poor woman’s entire body was covered in hickeys. Her shoulders and collarbone were littered with several little puncture wounds while her neck had multiple light scratches dragging down. A distinct handprint was present at the base of her neck like a necklace with matching bracelets on her wrists. Her exposed thighs bared no better as the inner sides of her thighs had similar bite marks with a matching set of claw marks on the outside of her thighs. 

Ben swats a hand over his mouth as his hand slams over his horrified mouth while Hobie looks at Miguel in an amused expression. The urge to throw himself into another dimension plagues Miguel’s thoughts as he realizes that he will never live this moment down for the rest of his life. Rubbing his hand over his face in frustration, the oblivious spider turns back to her lover as she tilts her head at why everyone was acting weird. 

“Miggy, are you alright?” She mumbles as Hobie joins them up there with fake concern wrapping around his voice. “Yea, boss, are you alright? You looking a bit flushed, yea?” Hobie struggles to hide the growing laughter in his voice as Miguel throws him a nasty glare. 

The punk was never afraid of getting under his leader’s skin, but his ego really took over when he knows his boss would definitely not do anything while his missus was right there watching him. Ben also decides to join the fun by remarking, “Yea, you look like you need something to blow off that steam. Maybe a little taste of something sweet, right?” He teases as he figures he was safe.

Unfortunately, he unknowingly sparked an idea in the naive spider’s mind. She claps her hands in excitement as she exclaims, “That’s a great idea, Ben! I think I have some sorbets in the freezer of Miguel’s apartment.” 

Miguel wickedly smirks as he realizes that he may have an opportunity to exact some revenge as the two other boys tried to reason with her to stay. 

“Oh wait, Sunny, You really don’t have to..”

“Yea, Love. We are fine really!”

The boys try to reassure her that she didn’t need to travel all that way to get some ice cream before a smooth voice says, 

“Es una idea maravillosa, mi amor.” Miguel praises as his love’s smile brightens in response. “¿Por qué no vas a buscarme a mí ya ti ya que estos dos quieren ser miserables en este momento, de acuerdo?” He coos causing the woman to swoon at his soft tone.

“Alrighty, Miggy.” She grins as she opens the portal with her gizmo. The boys’ hearts stop in their chests as the little spider ignores their pleas to stay and happily skips through the portal to Miguel’s apartment. 

“Now then…” Miguel’s menacing voice twists around his cruel smile as he looks at the trembling boys. “What is it that you guys wanted to talk about?” 

Yep, they are fucked.

~~~~~~~

As the portal reopens on the observation deck, a smiling jumping spider comes back through with two packages in her hand and two spoons as she calls out, “Miggy, I’m back!”

“Llegando, mi sol.” His voice surprises her as he swings himself back onto the platform. She tilts her head as she begins to ask where he went when she noticed that he was now shirtless with the evidence of what she’s done to him now on full display.

His chest had small dark circles littering his pectorals that created a  trail down his abdomen and his abs, disappearing into the dark brown happy trail that began below his belly button. Upon seeing her stunned face, Miguel chuckles as he gently takes one of the icy treats from her shaking hands and a spoon before sitting down in his chair. 

“Gracias Amor.” He says nonchalantly as he rips open the packaging and starts eating the sorbet from its fruit shell.

“N-no problem, Miggy..” She sits beside him and opens her treat as she avoids looking at his powerful back muscles as they flex and move as he ate the sugary sweet. She almost drops the damned thing after the deep scratches on his shoulder blades reminded her of what they did just the night prior. 

“¿Qué pasa, mami? Miguel mocks as a mischievous smirk causes his fangs to poke out. “¿No te gusta tu sorbete? ¿O hay algo más que te gustaría probar?” He purrs as the spoon in her hand falls to the floor with him chuckling.

“Miguel!” She scolds as she begins to bend over to pick up the spoon as another spoon full of an icy treat. Her stomach flips as Miguel looks at her with his pretty apologetic red eyes as he pokes her pouting lips with his peace offering.

“I’m sorry for teasing, my love. You just look so cute and flustered.” He admits he gives her a soft curl of his lip.

Matching his smile, Sunny opens her mouth and happily accepts his apology with a small moan. She sighs as she lets go of his spoon with a satisfied smile.

“So good!~”

“I’m glad.” He smiles as he dips his own bite and eats it. “Es casi tan dulce como tú…”

“Miggy!” An embarrassed voice shrills as the man laughs with his love.

~~~~~~~~~~

Translations:

arañita - Little spider

Pero tendrás que cumplir esa pequeña fantasía mía más tarde, mi niña bonita.--But, you are gonna have to fulfill that little fantasy of mine later, my pretty girl.

Es una idea maravillosa, mi amor.- That's a wonderful idea, my love.

¿Por qué no vas a buscarme a mí ya ti ya que estos dos quieren ser miserables en este momento, de acuerdo? -Why don't you go get me and you some since these two want to be miserable right now, alright?

Llegando, mi sol.- Coming, my sun.

Thank you,love- Gracias amor

¿Qué pasa, mami?- What's a matter, mami?

Es casi tan dulce como tú…–It's almost as sweet as you...

~~~~~~~~~~

Taglist:

@ameliadraws 

@tojisrightnut

@whyareyoubored

@silly-lovestruck-em

@luvil1y

@chims-kookies

@himesuedi

@22carolina08

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@boldlypessimistic

@dilfaddiction

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@paranoiac-666

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@arminarmout15

@mintellaine

@maddsunn

@sleepyamaya

@meshuao

@scaraza

@nobarasgfriend

@kurxxmi

@lemoonandlestars

@pix-stuff

@galaxieshearme

@sunshiines-stuff

@iytatsworld

@corpsebridenightamare

@p-rspective

@almostjollypizza

@celestiayxl

@christinaatyourservice92

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@hereliespumpkin

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@internal-soundtrack

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@namjoons-crabssss

@baefys-world

@namioom

@20forty9

@cicithemess2000

@hailssss222

@cityofvoldemort-blog

@snow30285

@serenssuga

@miguelluvrinnit

@sammywammy1

@dameronshandholder

@moonlight-fox

@miwagila

@alexthebootyeater420

@mariaatp

@10-jiku2

@uselsshuman

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@mooomeadows

@king-julian6201

@local-mr-frog

@superbjealousy

@wonwuz

@lokisnumber1whore

@deloe18

@all4koo

#miguel o’hara x reader #spiderman #spiderman 2099 #spiderman across the spiderverse #spiderman 2099 x reader #spiderman into the spiderverse #miguel ohara #fanfic #across the spiderverse #miguel o’hara

[gatorbites-imagines]

Floor to ceiling windows

Miguel O’Hara x male reader

Smut drabble

I blame tiktok for this one. 

Scent kink and sweat in this, so if that isn’t your cup of tea, oh well. I felt I probably should start naming my drabbles, so I named this one, enjoy.

The sun shined brightly in through the tall windows into Miguels apartment, the type of apartment you see in movies or imagine when someone says millionaire. With windows that stretch from floor to ceiling, and white furniture so expensive you wouldn’t even dare sit down in fear of staining them with your presence. All looked too pristine, too expensive, like something right out of a magazine someone from your tax bracket would never be able to afford.

Well, almost everything. It would all have looked too well, if not for the large man draped across it, arm tucked behind his head and legs spread in what you’d probably fall the most foul menspread you had ever laid your eyes on. Miguel was wearing a sorry excuse of fabric he claimed was a tanktop, barely covering anything as it hung from loose straps, leaving the armhole going almost all the way down to his wasit. The tiny shorts he wore wasn’t much help either, ending barely a quarter of the way down his massive thighs, the poor fabric stretching to its full capability to try and contain the muscle, one way or another.

Normally you would be ribbing on him for his posture, how he looked like the image that most of those alpha male podcasters tried to shine but always failed at doing. But your mouth was quite preoccupied at the moment, as Miguel’s free hand was buried in your hair and pulling you closer to his exposed armpit. The flat of your tongue ran from the bottom of the crevice to the top, brushing over the coarse hairs of his bodyhair as the salty taste of his sweat covered your tastebuds.

It was hard to pinpoint how you’d found yourself in this position, half kneeling on the couch as you licked and sucked the salty drops of sweat off Miguel’s sweaty body, his musk filling your very senses, so strong that it almost left your eyes rolling. Maybe it was when you had stepped in through your own portal, thanks to your watch since you were part of the whole spider team, and the first thing you had seen was Miguels tan body shiny with sweat. Or maybe it was how his hair seemed less styled than usual, falling in natural waves across his forehead, some of it sticking against his skin thanks to his sweat, all which could be blamed on the harsh sun that shined in through the windows.

But one thing led to another, and here you were, your own spidersuit tucked off your torso and tied around your waist like one would a jacket. Gruff Spanish left his lips as the hand in your hair tightened and pulled your head this and that way, leading your tongue in whatever direction Miguel wanted it to be. As your thoughts blurred, you could focus on nothing but inhaling his strong musky scent and licking his skin clean of salty sweat.

At one point he had moved you, using his large height and inhumane strength to pull you onto his other side, so that you could lather his other pit with the same worshipping treatment, his grumbled praise constant as you kept up your task. Only after licking his torso clean did you find yourself on your knees in front of him, looking up at him with a spit and sweat slick face, your hair mused and your pupils blown.

A moan left you as his hand buried itself in your hair once more, his half smirk being the last thing you saw before your eyes rolled back and fell shut, as his grip pulled you in close, burying your face in the crevice between his thigh and his crotch. Maybe barging into his home uninvited hadn’t been the worst idea you’d ever had, you surely didn’t think so, and Miguel didn’t seem to mind much either.

#male reader #miguel o'hara #miguel o’hara imagine #Miguel O’Hara headcanon #Miguel O’Hara x male reader #Miguel O’Hara x reader #miguel ohara imagine #miguel ohara headcanon #miguel ohara x male reader #miguel ohara x reader #spiderman 2099 #spiderverse #across the spiderverse #atsv #spiderverse headcanon #spiderverse imagine #spiderverse x male reader #spiderverse x reader #across the spiderverse imagine #across the spiderverse headcanon #across the spiderverse x male reader #across the spiderverse x reader #atsv imagine #atsv headcanon #atsv x male reader #atsv x reader #spiderman headcanon #spiderman imagine #spiderman x male reader #spiderman x reader

[cuddlytogas]

maybe it's just the Radical Rediker talking, but there's something pointed in the way that, say, popular pirate media like Pirates of the Caribbean dilutes the pirate's freedom to "bring me that horizon" as opposed to, say, "plenty and satiety, pleasure and ease, liberty and power" (Bartholomew Roberts).

broadly speaking, most pirates chose the life in order to escape and revenge the hard labour, corporal punishment, overworking, and unequal pay of merchant/navy/privateer ships; or the privations of their sudden unemployment once a war was over, ignored as soon as their ability to die for the state was unneeded. yes, many were thugs, but, consciously political or not, they were responding to a particular, material reality.

the pirate's desired freedom was from the effects of exploitative modes of statehood and capital production. but popular media usually shifts this into a general desire for freedom: freedom to roam, freedom to love (usually merely a cross-class white, heterosexual union), or freedom from the personal pressures of social norms. it's a vague, ahistorical, post-Enlightenment, libertarian ideal rather than a response to a real social and economic situation.

to be clear, this only really applies to specifically the late golden age of piracy, in the first quarter of the 18th century. earlier generations of pirates/buccaneers often displayed nationalist/religious motives, and were lauded, tolerated, or even encouraged by the French and English states for aiding their fights against the Spanish and Portuguese. only the last gasp of age of sail pirates had a truly anti-national energy, and both figured themselves, and were figured by the imperial powers, as the enemies of all nations.

but if we are to valourise the late golden age pirate, at his best, his ideals were for true democracy, and the abolition of nation, hierarchy, and labour exploitation; not "the horizon". he was striking out in response to specific political, social, and economic oppressions, rather than a general individual restlessness, and that reality - and its similarities to our own - are important.

I dunno, I just... have a lot of thoughts about the defanging of piracy in modern media. obviously there were a lot of things bad about them, too, and the level of egalitarianism varied between individual people and ships. but again, if we're going to be valourising them anyway... there were idealists. and they weren't subtle about they wanted.

"I shan't own myself guilty of any murder", said William Fly in 1726. "Our captain and his mate used us barbarously. We poor men can't have justice done us. There is nothing said to our commanders, let them never so much abuse us, and use us like dogs. But the poor sailors --"

#pirates #history #pirate history #Togas does meta #Rediker is Marcus Rediker and I've only just started finally reading some of his work properly but god it's good #also if you've watched Black Sails I'd love to know how much of this energy is in there #it's a bit too ~gritty for my tastes but I get the impression it's also a bit vague about freedom over material historical politics #but i could be wrong! #obviously PotC has an ingrained anti-EIC vibe but even then it's more about ''they're enclosing the sea against us wild rovers'' than #''company captains beat us half to death just for the wealth we facilitate to be funnelled to the top while us sailors are left to rot'' #and christ knows it's not interested in historical realities XD

[dear-indies]

Hello! What are some of your favorite Pro-Palestine, Anti Zionist fc's you'd like to see used more? I want to make an OC and have zero ideas but I want to try to only use FC's that, like, aren't heartless pieces of shit, ya know?

Cherien Dabis (1976) Palestinian / Jordanian.

Michael Malarkey (1983) Palestinian, Italian-Maltese / Irish, German.

May Calamawy (1986) Jordanian, Palestinian / Egyptian.

Dina Shihabi (1989) Palestinian, Saudi Arabian / Norwegian, German and Haitian.

Nemahsis / Nemah Hasan (1994) Palestinian.

Noor Taher (1999) Palestinian and Lebanese.

Saint Levant (2000) Palestinian, Serbian / Algerian, French.

Josie Totah (2001) Palestinian / Lebanese, Italian, Irish, German - is a trans woman.

+ an entire masterlist of Palestinian fcs!

Also, since lots of people are asking here's a masterlist but PLEASE NOTE THAT THIS IS NOT COMPREHENSIVE LIST OF PEOPLE WHO HAVE POSTED AND/OR SPOKEN ABOUT PALESTINE!

Why I'm not adding people who have only asked for a ceasefire.

HERE is @leepacey's list.

I also have a private list you're welcome to DM me for, both also have people who support Isr*el for people to avoid.

Vanessa Redgrave (1937)

Miriam Margolyes (1941) Jewish.

Charles Dance (1946)

Patti Smith (1946)

Duke Erikson / Garbage (1951)

Annie Lennox (1954)

Butch Vig / Garbage (1955)

Juliet Stevenson (1956)

Steve Marker / Garbage (1959)

Hugo Weaving (1960)

Michael Stipe (1960)

Liam Cunningham (1961)

Sabrina Ferilli (1964)

Paco Tous (1964)

Robert Del Naja / Massive Attack (1965)

Björk (1965)

John Cusack (1966)

Shirley Manson / Garbage (1966)

Aasif Mandvi (1966) Indian.

Serj Tankian (1967) Armenian.

Tricky / Massive Attack (1968) Afro Jamaican / Anglo-Guyanese.

Kathleen Hanna (1968)

Benedict Wong (1971) Hongkonger.

Boots Riley (1971) African-American, one quarter Ashkenazi Jewish (maternal grandmother), small amounts of German, English, Scots-Irish/Northern Irish, Scottish, Wampanoag.

Ava DuVernay (1972) Louisiana Creole.

Poorna Jagannathan (1972) Indian.

Haifa Wehbe (1972) Egyptian / Lebanese.

Kimya Dawson (1972) African-American.

Ava DuVernay (1972) African-American.

Cat Power (1972)

Sarah Sophie Flicker (1973) Jewish.

Omar Metwally (1974) Egyptian / Dutch.

Maxine Peake (1974)

Itziar Ituño (1974)

Nelly Karim (1974) Egyptian / Russian.

Mahershala Ali (1974) African-American.

Sara Ramírez (1975) Mexican and some Irish - non-binary, queer and bisexual (they/them).

Carice van Houten (1976)

Karen Olivo (1976) Puerto Rican [Spanish, Indigenous, possibly other] / Dominican Republic, Chinese - is non-binary (they/them).

Haaz Sleiman (1976) Lebanese - is gay.

Antonio De Matteo (1978)

Joelle Mardinian (1977) Lebanese.

Alberto Ammann (1978) Argentinan.

Daniel Brühl (1978)

Max Collins / Eve 6 (1978)

Kayvan Novak (1978) Iranian.

Residente / René Pérez Joglar (1978) Puerto Rican.

Immortal Technique (1978) Amerindian, Spanish, French and African.

Hend Sabry (1979) Egyptian.

Luis Bordonada (1979) Mexican.

Ser Anzoategui (1979) Argentinian and Paraguayan - is non-binary (they/them).

Dorra Zarrouk (1980) Tunisian.

Amerie (1980) African-American / Korean.

Angelica Ross (1980) African-American - is trans.

Dargen D'Amico (1980)

Gustaf Skarsgård (1980)

Khalid Abdalla (1980) Egyptian.

Arian Moayed (1980) Iranian.

Massari (1980) Lebanese.

Tahar Rahim (1981) Algerian.

Kaan Urgancıoğlu (1981) Turkish.

Shawna Farmer / chubbycartwheels (1981)

Beth Ditto (1981) - is queer.

Morgan Spector (1981) Ashkenazi Jewish / Irish, German, some Scottish and English.

Jesse Williams (1981) African-American, Seminole / Swedish.

Amanda Seales (1981) African-American / Grenadian [African, at least one quarter European].

Riz Ahmed (1982) Pakistani.

Emel Mathlouthi (1982) Tunisian.

Rajshri Deshpande (1982) Indian.

Niamh McGrady (1982)

Yolanda Bonnell (1982) Ojibwe, White / Indian - is two-spirit and queer (she/they) - is open about having OCD and ADHD!

Macklemore (1983)

Luna Maya (1983) Indonesian.

Amir Eid (1983) Egyptian.

Aisling Bea (1984)

Mohamed Emam (1984) Egyptian.

Mahira Khan (1984) Pakistani.

Alex Meraz (1984) Mexican [Purepecha].

Sami Zayn (1984) Syrian.

Jena Malone (1984)

Siobhan Thompson (1984)

Ravyn Ariah Wngz (1984) Mohawk, Tanzanian, Afro-Bermudian - is a Two-Spirit trans woman (she/her).

Kristin Chirico (1984) - is questioning their gender, “encompassing a lot of things” but is not yet sure if she’s nonbinary or a gender non-confirming woman and uses they/her - openly bisexual and demisexual and have Obsessive Compulsive Disorder, ADHD, dyslexia, and asthma.

Tamanna Roashan (1984) Indian / Afghani.

Asia Kate Dillon (1984) Ashkenazi Jewish / Unspecified - non-binary and pansexual (they/them).

Burak Özçivit (1984) Turkish.

Enjy Kiwan (1984) Egyptian.

Kid Cudi (1984) African-American.

Sepideh Moafi (1985) Iranian.

Lilan Bowden (1985) Taiwanese / English, Welsh.

Alex Meraz (1985) Mexican [Purépecha].

Aabria Iyengar (1985) African-American.

Rahul Kohli (1985) Punjabi Indian.

Marina Diamandis (1985)

Troian Bellisario (1985) American, Louisiana Creole [African, French, English] / White.

Sonam Kapoor (1985) Indian.

Carmen V. Ortega Baljian (1985)

Carsie Blanton (1985) Jewish.

Haley Webb (1985)

Yani Gellman (1985) Ashkenazi Jewish, possibly other.

Giulia Michelini (1985)

Lewis Hamilton (1985) Afro Grenadian / White.

Eréndira Ibarra (1985) Mexican - is bisexual.

Karim Kassem (1986) Egyptian / Egyptian Jewish.

Mihaela Drăgan (1986) Romani - is queer

Diane Guerrero (1986) Colombian.

Whitney Greyton (1986) Black South African / Namibian - is queer (she/they).

Fahriye Evcen (1986) Turkish.

Amber Riley (1986) African-American.

Ericka Hart (1986) African-American - is non-binary femme, queer, and polyamorous (she/they).

Lido Pimienta (1986) Colombian [Wayuu, Afro-Colombian] - is queer.

Mihaela Dragan (1986) Romani.

DJ Snake (1986) Algerian / French.

Alba Flores (1986) Romani, Spanish [including Andalusian] - is a lesbian.

Saagar Shaikh (1986) Pakistani.

Mustafa Ali (1986) Pakistani.

Lily Gladstone (1986) Kainai Blackfoot, Amskapi Pikuni Blackfoot, Nez Perce, Dutch, Cajun - she/they.

Pidgeon Pagonis (1986) Mexican and Greek - is intersex and non-binary (they/them).

Guz Khan (1986) Pakistani.

Eugene Lee Yang (1986) Korean - is gay.

Bob the Drag Queen (1986) African-American - is polyamorous, pansexual and non-binary (he/her).

Asim Chaudhry (1986/87) Pakistani.

Marwa Agrebi (1987) Tunisian.

Sasha Velour (1987) Russian Jewish / Ukrainian, other - is genderfluid (she/they when not in drag, she while in drag).

Susan Wokoma (1987) Nigerian.

Munroe Bergdorf (1987) Afro Jamaican / English - is trans.

Michael B. Jordan (1987) African-American.

Juliana Huxtable (1987) African-American - is trans.

Nicola Coughlan (1987)

Pearl Mackie (1987) West Indian / English - is bisexual.

Erika Ishii (1987) Japanese - is genderfluid (she/they/any) - also posted on Brennan’s post: “Thank you for always being thoughtful with your advocacy and direct in your action. From the river to the sea.”

Michaela Coel (1987) Ghanaian - is aromantic, boycotted the Sydney Festival 2022 for Palestine.

Carina Shero (1988)

Joe Cole (1988)

Elsa Hosk (1988)

Kendrick Sampson (1988) African-American / English, Scottish, German, Cajun/French, Danish, Norwegian.

Kelly Piquet (1988) Brazilian.

Navild Acosta (1988) African-American - is non-binary queer (he/him).

Brennan Lee Mulligan (1988)

Swara Bhasker (1988) Indian.

Aiysha Hart (1988) Saudi Arabian and English.

John Early (1988) - is gay.

Sabrina Dhowre Elba (1988) Somali.

Joel Kim Booster (1988) Korean - is gay and has bipolar disorder.

Gratiela Brancusi (1989) Romani and Greek Romanian.

Frank Waln (1989) Sicangu Oyate Lakota Sioux.

Rakeen Saad (1989) Jordadian.

Morfydd Clark (1989)

Mary Lambert (1989) - is a lesbian.

Dina Torkia (1989) Egyptian / English.

Laith Ashley (1989) Afro Dominican - is a trans man and asexual.

Shea Couleé / Jaren Kyei Merrell (1989) African-American - non-binary (they but she/her while in drag).

Emma Watson (1990)

Mitski (1990) Japanese / White.

Arrows Fitz (1990) African-American - is non-binary (he/they/she/it).

Shirine Boutella (1990) Algerian.

Luke Baines (1990)

Lolly Adefope (1990) Yoruba Nigerian.

Tabria Majors (1990) African-American.

Rosaline Elbay (1990) Egyptian.

Katie Findlay (1990) English, Hongkonger, Portuguese-Macanese, Scottish - is queer (they/them).

Poppy Liu (1990) Chinese - is non-binary (she/they).

Shareena Clanton (1990) Blackfoot, Cherokee, African-American, Wangkatha, Yamatji, Noongar, Gija.

Maren Morris (1990)

Kiowa Gordon (1990) Hualapai, White.

Leigh-Anne Pinnock (1991) Afro Barbadian and Jamaican.

Joe Alwyn (1991)

Emily Ratajkowski (1991)

Jari Jones (1991) African-American / Filipino - is trans.

Vico Ortiz (1991) Puerto Rican - non-binary (they/them).

Denée Benton (1991) African-American.

Dylan O'Brien (1991)

Bonnie Wright (1991)

Ramy Youssef (1991) Egyptian.

Ali Burak Ceylan (1991) Turkish.

Seychelle Gabriel (1991) French, Mexican / Italian, including Sicilian - also has Spoken up for Sudan.

Alexa Nikolas (1992)

Emma D’Arcy (1992) - is non-binary (they/them).

Jarvis Johnson (1992) Unspecified.

Tasha Cloud (1992) African-American - is a lesbian.

Jess Bush (1992)

Jade Thirlwall (1992) English, three eights Arab [Egyptian, Yemeni], small amount of Scottish.

Faia Younan (1992) Syrian.

Merhan Keller (1992) Egyptian.

Julien Solomita (1992)

Pauline Chalamet (1992) Ashkenazi Jewish / English, Scottish, Irish, French.

Hari Nef (1992) Ashkenazi Jewish - is a trans woman.

Paloma Elsesser (1992) African-American / Chilean-Swiss.

Katie Gavin / MUNA (1992) - is queer.

Rupi Kaur (1992) Punjabi Indian.

Joana Ribeiro (1992)

Conor Mason / Nothing But Thieves (1992)

Rose Matafeo (1992) Samoan / Scottish and Croatian.

Cailin Russo (1993)

Tara Emad (1993) Egyptian / Yugoslav Montenegrin.

Younes Bendjima (1993) Algerian.

Bobbi Salvör Menuez (1993) - is trans non-binary (they/them).

Stormzy (1993) Ghanaian.

Chance the Rapper (1993) African-American.

Raveena Aurora (1993) Punjabi Indian.

Naomi McPherson / MUNA (1993) West Indian and Irish - is queer and nonbinary (they/them).

Freddy Carter (1993)

Ghali (1993) Tunisian.

Jordan Alexander (1993) German, Irish, African-American.

Charlotte Day Wilson (1993)

Mia Khalifa (1993) Lebanese.

Maria Thattil (1993) Indian.

AJ Tracey (1994) Afro-Trinidadian / Welsh.

Ben Barlow (1994)

Asia Jackson (1994) Ibaloi Filipino and African American.

Isabella Roland (1994) Jewish.

Josette Maskin / MUNA (1994) Jewish - is queer and nonbinary (she/they).

Aimee Lou Wood (1994)

Rose Williams (1994)

Jasmin Savoy Brown (1994) African-American / English, German, one quarter Norwegian, some Scots-Irish/Northern Irish - is queer.

Theo Tiedemann (1994) Asian - is trans non-binary and gay (he/they).

Little Simz (1994) Yoruba Nigerian.

Huda Elmufti (1994) Egyptian.

Dylan Gelula (1994) Ashkenazi Jewish / Unspecified.

Arsema Thomas (1994) Nigerian / Ethiopian - is non-binary (she/they).

Earl Sweatshirt (1994) Black South African.

Kurtis Conner (1994)

Julien Baker (1995) - is a lesbian.

Kehlani (1995) African-American, French, Blackfoot, Cherokee, Spanish, Mexican, Filipino, Scottish, English, German, Scots-Irish/Northern Irish, Welsh, Cornish, Irish, Choctaw - non-binary womxn, lesbian and polyamorous - she/they.

Achraf Koutet (1995) Moroccan.

Lucy Dacus (1995) - is queer.

Daniel Caesar (1995) Afro Barbadian and Jamaican.

Jazzelle / Jazzeppi Zanaughtti (1995) Afircan-American.

Elvina Mohamad (1995) Malaysian.

Willow Pill (1995) - is trans femme, has cystinosis and is autistic.

Bree Kish (1996) ¼ Black.

Alessia Cara (1996)

Josefine Frida Pettersen (1996)

María Isabel (1996) Dominican.

Mustafa the Poet (1996) Sudanese.

Lorde (1996)

Florence Pugh (1996)

Lowkey (1986) Iraqi / English.

Denzel Curry (1995) Afro Bahamian and Unspecified Native American.

Brandon Soo Hoo (1995) Chinese.

Lily Gao (1995) Chinese.

Jessie Mei Li (1995) Hongkonger / English - is a gender non-conforming woman who uses she/they.

Grace Van Dien (1996)

Abdelhamid Sabiri (1996) Morrocan.

Lauren Jauregui (1996) Cuban [Spanish, possibly other], likely some Basque - is bisexual.

Ally Beardsley (1996) - is non-binary (they/them).

Thea Sofie Loch Naess (1996)

AURORA (1996)

Leo Sheng (1996) Chinese - is a trans man.

Imaan Hammam (1996) Moroccan / Egyptian.

Tavi Gevinson (1996) Ashkenazi Jewish / Norwegian [converted to Judaism].

Quintessa Swindell (1997) African-American / White - is non-binary (they/he).

070 Shake (1997) Dominican - doesn't like to put labels on her sexuality.

Zara Larsson (1997)

Faye Webster (1997)

Madeline Ford (1997)

Asa Butterfield (1997)

Scene Queen (1997)

Micheal Ward (1997) Afro Jamaican.

Xiran Jay Zhao (1997) Hui Chinese - is non-binary (they/them).

Lori Harvey (1997) African-American.

Mayan El Sayed (1997) Egyptian.

Hania Aamir (1997) Pakistani.

Sisi Stringer (1997) African Australian.

Omar Apollo (1997) Mexican - is gay.

Kaiit (1997) Papuan / Gunditjmara, Torres Strait Islander - is non-binary (she/he/they).

Piper Curda (1997) Korean / English, Scottish - is apsec.

Iman Meskini (1997) Tunisian / Norweigan - is pro Palestine!

Archie Renaux (1997) Punjabi Indian and Brtish.

Clara Nieblas (1997) Mexican.

Janella Salvador (1998) Bisaya Filipino.

Ethel Cain (1998) - is a trans bisexual woman.

Joanna Pincerato (1998) Mexican, Syrian. Swedish and Italian.

Joanna Arida (1998) Jordadian.

Chella Man (1998) Hongkonger and Jewish - is deaf, trans genderqueer and pansexual (he/they).

Benedetta Porcaroli (1998)

Gretta Ray (1998)

Clairo (1998) - is bisexual and has juvenile idiopathic arthritis.

SANTAN / Dave (1998) Edo Nigerian.

Salsabiela A. (1998) Unspecified.

Ariela Barer (1998) Mexican, Ashkenazi Jewish.

Celeste O'Connor (1998) Kenyan - is non-binary (they/them).

Wegz (1998) Egyptian.

Jessica Alexander (1999)

Rafaela Plastira (1999)

Minami Gessel (1999) Japanese / Ashkenazi Jewish.

Kenna Sharp (1999) - is queer.

Samara Joy (1999) African-American.

Sab Zada (1999) Chinese, Filipino, and Hispanic.

Zoe Terakes (2000) Greek Australian - trans masc non-binary guy (they/he).

Anthony Lexa (2000) - is a trans woman.

Marissa Bode (2000) African-American - is disabled.

Odessa A'zion (2000) Ashkenazi Jewish, English, some Irish, Northern Irish, Welsh, German.

Reneé Rapp (2000) - is a lesbian.

Celia Rose Gooding (2000) African-American - bisexual and gray asexual, uses she/they - also saw somewhere they don't like being called a woman.

Lucas Jade Zumann (2000) Ashkenazi Jewish / possibly German.

Maitreyi Ramakrishnan (2001) Tamil.

Andria Tayeh (2001) Jordanian and Lebanese.

Freya Allan (2001)

Ari Notartomaso (2001) - is non-binary (they/he).

Rachel Zegler (2001) Colombian / White.

Maria Guardiola (2001)

Hope Ikpoku Jnr (2001) Black British.

Morgan Davies (2001) - is a trans man.

Corey Maison (2001) - is a trans woman.

Ahmet Haktan Zavlak (2001) Turkish.

Kei Kurosawa (2001) Bisaya Filipino and Japanese.

Aaron Rose Philip (2001) Afro-Antiguan - is a trans woman who has cerebral palsy.

Denise Julia (2002) Filipino.

Nessa Barrett (2002) Puerto Rican.

Yara Mustafa (2002) Jordanian.

Iris Apatow / Iris Scot (2002) Ashkenazi Jewish / Irish, Scottish, Finnish, German.

Kosar Ali (2003) Somali.

Madeleine Hyland (?)

Bobby Sanchez (?) Peruvian [Quechua] - is Two-Spirit and trans, uses she/her sometimes they/they).

Nick Hakim (?) Chilean / Peruvian.

Micaela López Bianchi (?) Argentinian.

Jas Lin (?) Taiwanese - is queer (they/them).

Georgia Maq (?)

Eddy Mack (?) Jordanian.

Ellie Kim / SuperKnova (?) Korean - genderfluid, transgender woman (she/her).

Alexia Roditis / Destory Boys (?) - uses they/them.

Violet Mayugba / Destory Boys (?)

Narsai Malik / Destory Boys (?)

David Orozco / Destory Boys (?)

Neil Turner / Los Campesinos! (?)

Tom Bromley / Los Campesinos! (?)

Kim Paisey / Los Campesinos! (?)

Rob Taylor / Los Campesinos! (?)

Jason Adelinia/ Los Campesinos! (?)

Matt Fidler / Los Campesinos! (?)

Raul Briones (?) Mexican.

Britton Smith (?) Black.

Farrah / farrahescapes (?) Emirati.

CJ / Cup of Jo / cupofjoemusic_ (early 20's) Pangasinense Filipino.

Gian / Cup of Jo / cupofjoemusic_ (early 20's) Pangasinense Filipino.

Rapha / Cup of Jo / cupofjoemusic_ (early 20's) Pangasinense Filipino.

Gab / Cup of Jo / cupofjoemusic_ (early 20's) Pangasinense Filipino.

Sevii / Cup of Jo / cupofjoemusic_ (early 20's) Ilocano Filipino.

Xen / Cup of Jo / cupofjoemusic_ (early 20's) Ilocano Filipino.

Grey Gritt (?) Ojibwe and Metis - is genderqueer (they/them).

Elaine Crombie (?) Pitjantjatjara, Yankunytjatjara, Warrigmay, South Sea Islander, and White.

Nori Reed (?) Korean / Unspecified - is non-binary (she/her).

Shahd Khidir (?) Sudanese.

Arewà Basit (?) Black - uses she/they.

Majid Al Maskati / Majid Jordan (?) Bahraii.

Jordan Ullman / Majid Jordan (?)

+ please let me know if you want more!

#fc help #rph #rpc

[soufcakmistress]

Temptress

Pairing: Erik Stevens x Thick Black OC

The intricate oil painting hanging on the wall threatened to fall by the incessant pounding of the bed frame. “I wonder what they’re serving at the pub tonight…” Sybil Freeman pondered as this sad soul rutted away between her legs. The Viscount Peters was one of her frequent visitors, and always tipped well. A lackluster lover, but always super sweet. The viscount shuddered and finally expelled into the sheepskin condom, with sighs of much awaited relief. Her corset has her abundant breasts grazing her chin, which have now spilled out from the romp that just ensued.

This is the part that the men come for. “Ooooh, the Viscount is feeling very frisky this evening. I’ll be sure to put those juniper berries in your wine every time we meet, sugar.” The short and dumpy nobleman always moseyed down her street for a bit of loving. Black and white men alike patronized the house—a house of nothing but Black bawds and whores.

~

London is a long way from colonial Charleston. Sybil Ravenel was one of eleven children to an enslaved couple working the indigo crop on Edisto Island. Keen on her surroundings and fierce about her family, one particular overseer would always harass her. She was very shapely and purposely wore baggier clothes to conceal her body. She’d managed to make it this far without getting whipped or separated from her family. The overseer was tired of Sybil spurning him. Easter Day came and the slaves were able to take the day off for once. While everyone was congregated by the fire, Sybil was caught off guard and gagged and pulled around the tobacco barn. Little did that overseer know that Sybil had been preparing for that day.

She sharpened this stick every day and hid it in the waistline of her skirt. Today, she made good on her intentions and shoved the stick into his neck. “I the last Negro woman you try to push up on. Bastard.” Blood drenched her apron and bonnet, and she wrenched them off and hid them under her skirt. Scrambling to the slave quarters, she gathered up the few clothes she had, tied them up and ran towards the harbor with all of her might in the dead of night.

Sybil understood sex and how easy men were guiled once it entered a dynamic. Men had few motivations and if it didn’t involve money, food or sex, Sybil found they didn’t have much use past that. She wasn’t entirely sure of her age, but she was a woman full grown. She had no education but she had the will to live and extremely limited means to do so. Offering what she had between her legs was how she was able to convince the captain of a nearby merchant ship not to ring the alarm for a fugitive slave on the run. She sucked his pecker so good as a matter of fact, he gave her her own cabin, left to be undisturbed until the ship docked.

The manifest was set for London Harbor, with a large store of indigo posed for shipping to the British Isles. England outlawed slavery years ago and all Sybil can remember being in awe of how Black folks roamed so freely. London was expansive, a different feeling versus Charleston. Attempting to navigate the streets, she bumped into a striking woman, with incredible cheek bones and dwarfed almost every man. “Careful, darling. Yuh ‘ave to actually look where yuh walk in this city. Before yuh get trampled.”

Needless to say, her life was changed from then on out. Bellemere Almodovar. Born in Jamaica, she was purchased by Spanish spice traders in exchange for bushels of saffron. She was so beautiful that she was whisked away from the auction block to accompany a lord in the Spanish court in the Spanish royal seat in Madrid.

Bellemere took Sybil under her wing. Showed her the ropes, how to keep herself safe, how to articulate herself, and recognize what the means to the end was. Fuck the frogs until you find the prince. A marquis or a lord having you for his mistress meant security and stability. A binding contract between the two of you kept the relationship mutually beneficial at all times. You provide the cunny and ego stroking, he provides the lifestyle. It’s plain and simple as that.

Until then, Sybil would stack her money. Her and Bellemere have expanded their stable, with an extremely diverse group of Black women with various treasures to offer. Lola and Liza Ibeji, the Sierra Leonan twin Amazons liked to play with the kinky politicians on Downing street on every bank holiday who liked to be tied up and degraded. Sarah Macenroe was a biracial beauty from Ireland, looking for a new home since her last bawd kicked her out. She was a contortionist, and petite like a nymph who loved to stick her finger up a John’s bum. And Sybil’s best friend Janie Smith from Trinidad, always quick to cuss her in patois. She was plump and shaped like you and that brought you both closer. Janie learned that she did not have a gag reflex, allowing any man to aim his prick down her endless throat with no resistance.

And Sybil. Sybil’s prized possession was between her legs. It was wetter and tighter than anyone around, and was guaranteed to make any man lose his pride before he wanted to. Her blue fingertips were a marvel to gaze upon and added to the fantasy. These English nobles ached for the chance of sleeping with a liberated Negro woman from the colonies. Her life was easy now. Fuck her regulars, and live good. She was free. Free to eat in any cafe of her choosing. Led her girls into any social gathering with their heads high and guaranteed to garner whispers and gasps. Music to her ears.

As of late, Sybil had been bored to tears of the social scene. Janie had just snagged her keeper, and she’d been whisked to the northern countryside for the next month. On this particular occasion, Sybil’s carob skin emitted radiance unknown to this world with the midnight blue gown hugging her body close. Her scalp itched under the powdered wig, and she daintily threw back her 6th drink of the night. Her girls worked the room as always, prowling for the next kill, and yet Sybil couldn’t give a fuck about any of these men.

She grabbed her sachet, picked up the ends of her dress and sashayed to the terrace. Some fresh air was needed. A cigarette she already rolled was pulled out and heavy footsteps lurked behind her. “Is this seat taken?”

A puff of tobacco smoke billowed in front of her cherubic face. A pleasant surprise that a Black man with a familiar accent met her. “Do as you like.”

The strange man quietly observes Sybil’s appearance. Their eyes finally meet and she’s enraptured and forgets to mask her intent. He’s very handsome, with a sterling smile and dashing garments. And an American accent. Interesting. “What’s a southern Belle doing mingling with English society?”

“I could ask the same of you. You’re like a fly in a glass of milk with this crowd. American?”

The gentleman wore his own hair out, a beautiful tangle of curls, and an emerald green suit that was immaculately crafted. His scent was alluring, and made Sybil want to know how deep his pockets went. “Yes. I was formerly enslaved, just like you. My father was African however and fell in love with my mother on a trip to the colonies. He bought us and we went back to his country to live. I grew up and wanted to explore this world. So for the moment, here I am..”

He took her cigarette out of her hand and began to puff on it himself. “And how would you know that I was enslaved? I could have been born free for all you know.”

The gentleman blew out the tobacco smoke, and gently placed her hand in his. The indigo dye. Permanently marking her as a piece of chattel. A former piece of chattel, for that matter. He kissed every fingertip on her left hand, and Sybil gulped. Her eyes became glassy, and she pulled away. She adjusted her dress, and stabilized her towering wig. “I didn’t catch your name, miss.”

Sybil took the cigarette back from him, taking a harsh pull. Why did this man make her feel like this? “Sybil. Sybil Freeman.” She had to get out of there. As seemingly progressive as London purported itself to be, Black men were almost never gentlemen and of the ton. He exuded high levels of breeding and class. His skin was gorgeous and he had piercing eyes that never left her….and roamed all over her body. He was clearly different.

“Good evening, sir.” Sybil gave the stiffest curtsy and zoomed away, flustered and confused. Something told her that that wouldn’t be the last she saw of him..

A/N: I totally forgot that I had most of this written up already LMAO. Please let me know if you want me to continue this story. Pleaseeee reblog and comment, love yall!!!

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#soufcakmistress #erik stevens #erik killmonger #erik killmonger smut #killmonger fanfiction #killmonger smut #killmonger x black oc

[zebulontheplanet]

My journey with race and my ethnicity has always been complicated. When I was younger, I was very tan. I always looked latino. There was no doubt in my mind of what I was, and I accepted myself. I also have very strong Jewish features, small but round face, big nose, big eyes, etc etc. My mom grew up similarly to me in a way, her mom grew up believing that she was half black. She was very dark, had curly hair, wide features, etc etc. So my mom naturally got a lot of those features. She was always curvy, had big lips, curly hair, darker skin, etc etc. Later in life she took a DNA test, and 100% thought she’d get that she was a quarter black. Well, turns out that she wasn’t a quarter black and was actually Sicilian. Shes just a very dark Sicilian. Which could be rooted in the Arabic roots of Sicilians.

My own experience with race has been also complicated. I got a lot of my mother’s features and a lot of my father’s features. It seemed I didn’t fit in anywhere. I was to dark and “ethnic looking” to be good enough for the white people, and to light and Jewish looking to be good enough for the Hispanic people around me.

I grew up in a very blended family. With people of all races and ethnicities. From two of my sisters being black, to me and my twin being latino, to more. It was just always like that.

My life was filled with culture. When I was involved with my dad’s side of the family I was constantly exposed to the Latino and Jewish culture. It was amazing. My whole family on my dad’s side spoke Spanish so I was exposed to a lot of Hispanic culture. My whole family on my dad’s side was proud to be Hispanic and Jewish. They were just like that.

My own journey with my race and ethnicity is hard. I don’t look not white, but I don’t look white enough. And that’s been my whole life. From microagressions being thrown my way, to the classic “what are you?” Being asked. I’ve seen it all. I’m everyday trying to connect to my roots, but everyday itself is a constant self image battle of “who am I?” “What am I?”

Just some late night thoughts and rambling.

#zebrambles #race #race talk #latino #latino Jew #jewish talk #Jewish #ethnicity

[sydalelys01]

THE GROOMING

Well this is my first post, first I want to clarify that I am not a person who usually has popular opinions in the fandom… soo… many people will not like what I say… but hey, that's the purpose of this profile expel my opinions on different topics.

I also want to clarify that English is not my first language (it is Spanish) and you will probably find spelling horrors, so if you want to comment in Spanish you are free to do so.

By the way, I'm new to Tumblr, so I don't know why I get a lot of shit from the green team, fans of Alicent and the funny but fateful ship of Renada and Alicent, by the way ,HELP!!! I need to get out of there.🤣

but hey, I came across a post that talked about the supposed grooming that Daemon did to rhaenyra (bringing current morality to a work based on medieval times, that it seems fatal to me to do that more in a work with the nature of ASOIF, where Most characters border and play with the limit of morality ) and said that He had been grooming her since She was little and that Alicent herself was uncomfortable with daemon's dealings with rhaenyra. Well, I'll tell you my opinion about this and about who really groomed Rhaenyra.

Starting with the time lines (it should be clarified that I will use the true CANON, the books)

Rhaenyra is born in 97 ac, and Daemon is 16 years old when she is born and they give him darksister becoming a knight, that same year Daemon marries Rhea, then He is sent to live with his wife in runestone, therefore Daemon watches sporadically Rhaenyra and when He visited Kings landing , He did not spend 24/7 with her although He brought gifts to rhaenyra, and also his life on silk street was well known, and later in 103 to 104 is where they put him in The great advice… that we already know doesn't work and he's only been in these positions for 6 months. They give him permission to create the city wacht and he was in that position for 2 YEARS where he spent killing thieves and rapists, drinking and fucking whores. That he "lived" (that he practically did not live there) in the fortress did not mean that Rhaenyra looked at it every day and lived with him all the time. In 105 Aemma died and that same year Daemon was expelled from Kl, when Rhaenyra was 8 YEARS OLD, DAEMON returns to court in 111, that is, He was out of court for 6 YEARS… Daemon was never a constant in rhaenyra's childhood because he passed through silk street or was expelled in the valley.

Now let's talk about the men who really did that to rhaenyra if we use the term Grooming (which is stupid to use since it is a term that refers to the use of ICT and current moral and ethical standards).

But let's start with one loved and acclaimed by my dearest green team, the great white knight, the great Criston Cole who met her at age 7 (in the maiden pool tournament) and he was 22 years old and in the same year where he was named her sworn shield (he is 15 years older than rhaenyra). He saw her grow up and he was glued to her 24/7, who the great Queen Alicent herself said "that he protected Rhaenyra but nobody protected her from him" of course we do not talk about grooming anymore right?

Do all of you want to continue? Well, let's continue, now with the supposed "strongest man of the 7 kingdoms", Harwin strong, who arrived… guess when to court? at 105, and how old was rhaenyra at 105? yess!! You guessed it!, she was 8 years old, and you can't tell me that he wasn't close to her and that he didn't see her grow up, because her sisters were ladies of Rhaenyra. ….

and guess how many years Harwin is older than her? yes, 8 years … and who is the father of her first childrens? …. spoiler …. is not laenor, but no one talks about these great and honorable gentlemens … only Daemon who didn't see her grow up and was not even a quarter as close to Rhaenyra like Cole or Sir Strong….

As I repeat, it seems stupid to me to use the term in a work with a medieval context, where the majority of women married between the ages of 14 and 16 and if you passed that age you were a spinster or something was strange with you….. AND I THINK MORE HYPOCRITE for an alicent fan to say… DO YOU WANNA READ ME TO TALK ABOUT ALICENT? let's talk about alicent… an 18-year-old single "maiden" daughter of a second son who, since she did not inherit anything, would have to look for a husband at an early age who would give her strength and children. but conveniently she was single and willing to marry a man with a daughter… who wanted her own children to be kings who got to marry her 13-YEAR-OLD daughter to her brother who was only 2 years older than her "normal" but who collected bastards as a hobby… and there is much more to say about alicent…

but hey, this post already seems like a legal document… I'll leave it here.

I wait for your comments…

kisses.😘

#asoiaf #criston cole #harwin strong #grooming #alicent hightower #daemon targaryen #rhaenyra targaryen #hipocracy #fake people #I invite you to read the facts of the books #first post #anti greens #anti criston cole #anti harwin strong #anti alicent hightower #anti alicent stans

[archsarmedadvice]

Knights, Horses, and the Medieval Battlefield

This post is a focused version of a larger post, many thanks to Arch for allowing it here!

The Medieval Horse

During the middle ages, horses were not actually defined by breed. They were defined by the work the horse was suited and trained to preform. There were five main types of medieval horses.

The Destrier

Also called The Great Horse for its size, strength, and price, this horse was the renown mount of knights and kings in battle. These horses were highly trained for battle, and could be taught to do such things as striking out at soldiers in front, kicking at soldiers from the back, and even leaping all four feet in the air to protect it’s rider. They would wear the most armor, and these horses would likely be closest in appearance to the modern Andalusian.

^‘The Modern Knight’, Jason Kingsley, and his horse Warlord.

The Courser/The Charger

A lighter horse than the destrier, the courser is also a warhorse, highly trained and well-bred, but a little less expensive. A knight might not be able to afford a destrier, especially as a minor knight, but every knight should have a courser. The Spanish Jennet is the epitome of the medieval courser, and in fact was the horse used by Richard II. According to Shakespeare, the horse’s name was White Surrey, although other sources claim the horse was Roan Barbary, and was a Barb or Berber horse*.

*Bought from Spain and likely a cross of Spanish and African blood, so a Jennet. But Jennet was also a classification of a horse type in those days, so, sources are muddled.

^Barb/Berber horses in traditional garb

The Rouncey

The ‘average’ horse of the time, this horse was used mainly for riding, but could sometimes be ridden into battle if trained properly, and were the preferred horse for lower-class fighters such as archers or men-at-arms. As it described a riding horse, these horses came in all shapes and sizes, from all lineages, and in all colors. In peacetime they could be used to draw carriages or work fields. A proud and expensive destrier would never be caught pulling a plow.

The Palfrey

A highly-bred, highly trained horse, this horse is a high quality riding horse known for a specific gait, called an ambling gait. This horse had a special pattern of moving its feet that gave the rider a considerably more comfortable ride than the traditional 4 gaited horse. After the middle ages, these horses almost disappeared, only to be recovered in the Americas in the form of 'gaited’ horses such as the Paso Fino, the Rocky Mountain Horse, the Missouri Foxtrotter, and the Tennessee Walking Horse. The Icelandic horse has also retained the special Tölt gait that may* be the exact gait of medieval ambling horses.

^A fine lady on her steady palfrey

The Packhorse

This describes any kind of horse, usually a rouncey, that is used not for riding but to carry supplies. Packhorses could also be mules, donkeys, and ponies, so long as they could carry weight for long miles. These were supply horses, carrying food, weapons, tents, whatever else may be needed.

^Pack horses can be strung together in long 'strings’ of horses for transportation, or a single packhorse may follow through herd instinct. Packhorses are also rideable, if you want to give the main horse a rest.

Horses on the Battlefield

Now, if you have seen the above scene, you have probably seen The Hollow Crown, a historical drama with a few late Medieval battle scenes. In these scenes, knight clashes against knight in a furious charge, leading to pitched battles on horseback. I’m not going to say that never happened, but by and large cavalry was directed against infantry, not other cavalry, or used to conduct maneuvers requiring speed and surprise, such as a charge, a circling maneuver, a bluff retreat and most importantly, to chase down routing enemy soldiers.

A knight on horseback was most effective in close quarters against unmounted and surprised soldiers. Lances were the primary weapon, allowing a mounted warrior length to spear and batter down at enemies, and a sword was secondary, as it had a shorter length, and would be used if a mounted warrior was surrounded by infantry or in battle against another knight. Throughout the medieval period, horses sometimes were removed from the fight all together due to unfavorable land, and kept in reserve to either help the army flee or to chase down the fleeing enemy.

Somewhat realistically for facing an infantry, the Rohirrim here are wielding lances, which are a powerful tool of any charge. Unrealistically, they are instead using their horses as orc plows, which is… a choice. A charge is the cavalry’s best weapon, combining the horses’ speed, power, and training to create a wall of death and hooves. A good charge can split an infantry line, disrupt command signals, and even send the poorly-trained soldiers into a panic. A bad charge can end with the knights surrounded and pulled from their saddles to be stabbed and stomped into the ground. Such was medieval warfare.

#submission #Tags: Arch's Armed Advice #AAA:Communiques: Com. 1 #worldbuilding #military worldbuilding #writing #writing resources

[homomenhommes]

THIS DAY IN GAY HISTORY

based on: The White Crane Institute's 'Gay Wisdom', Gay Birthdays, Gay For Today, Famous GLBT, glbt-Gay Encylopedia, Today in Gay History, Wikipedia, and more … March 5

1534 – On this date the Italian painter Correggio died (b. 1489). Born as Antonio Allegri Correggio in Parma, he was the foremost painter of the Parma school of the Italian Renaissance, who was responsible for some of the most vigorous and sensuous works of the 16th century. In his use of dynamic composition, illusionistic perspective and dramatic foreshortening, Correggio prefigured the Rococo art of the 18th century. According to some sources he was born in 1494.

Correggio infused all of his figures—male and female alike—with an intense voluptuousness that transcends any limitations of gender. His depiction of exquisite androgynous youths has made him a favorite among gay male viewers in the modern era.

Danaë

Among prominent homosexuals in late nineteenth-century Britain, Oscar Wilde shared admiration for Correggio's art with John Addington Symonds , and Wilde sought out his paintings during his trip to Italy in 1875. The homoerotic qualities of Correggio's paintings have continued to be appreciated by gay viewers in recent decades.

Frequently included in lists of famous gay historical figures, Correggio is among the fifty-two individuals whose name is recorded on Into the Light, the mural covering the dome in the Gay and Lesbian Center of the San Francisco Public Library.

Correggio's The Rape of Ganymede was the first large-scale Renaissance oil painting of the subject. Correggio shows Jupiter, in the guise of an eagle, lifting the shepherd boy high above the lush blue-green landscape, while a dog jumps excitedly up toward his young master.

The Rape of Ganymede

With his face encircled by soft curls, Ganymede gazes out seductively at the viewer, even as he embraces the eagle. The dark feathers of the eagle help to set off the glowing pink flesh tones of the youth, who is shown at a three-quarter angle with much of his backside visible. Wind blows the pink draperies away from Ganymede's smooth, radiant buttocks, so that these are fully exposed to the viewer. Jupiter's understandable attraction to the beautiful youth is revealed by the way that the eagle tenderly licks at the boy's wrist.

The early acknowledgment of Correggio's Ganymede as a quintessential representation of homoerotic desire is indicated by the numerous references to the painting in the proceedings, conducted by the Spanish Inquisition against the wealthy connoisseur Antonio Pérez (1534-1611) on charges of sodomy. During the lengthy trial (which lasted from 1579 until 1590, when Pérez escaped to France), his ownership of Correggio's Ganymede was repeatedly cited as proof of his inclination to commit homosexual acts.

1922 – the Italian poet, intellectual, film director, and writer Pier Paolo Pasolini, was born on this date (d. 1975). Pasolini distinguished himself as a philosopher, linguist, novelist, playwright, filmmaker, newspaper and magazine columnist, actor, painter and political figure. He had a unique and extraordinary cultural versatility, and in the process became a highly controversial figure.

While openly Gay from the very start of his career (thanks to a sex scandal that sent him packing from his provincial hometown to live and work in Rome), Pasolini rarely dealt with homosexuality in his movies. The subject is featured prominently in Teorema (1968), where Terence Stamp's mysterious God-like visitor seduces the son of an upper-middle-class family; passingly in Arabian Nights (1974), in an idyll between a king and a commoner that ends in death; and, most darkly of all, in Salò (1975) [banned in many countries throughout Europe and North America], his infamous rendition of the Marquis de Sade's compendium of sexual horrors, The 120 Days of Sodom.

In 1964 he found his public moviemaking "voice" with The Gospel According to St. Matthew. With a non-professional cast and a quasi-documentary shooting style, Pasolini retold the familiar story of the life of Christ in the simplest, least-Hollywood-like style imaginable.

For a time a Christian fundamentalist film distributor had the rights to the film in the United States and successfully exhibited it to church groups. One wonders how receptive the fundamentalist audience would have been to the movie had they known that its maker was a gay, atheistic communist.

Gospel was followed by The Hawks and the Sparrows (1966), a comic fable about the adventures of a Chaplinesque father and son team, played by the great Italian star Toto and Ninetto Davoli, a young former lover of Pasolini's who was to appear in many of the filmmaker's works.

a scene from Pasolini's Salò

His most visually elegant and dramatically reserved work, Salò offers Sade's vision of old, wealthy, evil authorities (politicians, lawyers and bishops) having their way with nude and compliant youths and maidens of the lower classes as simply standard operational procedure for the powers that be.

Pasolini was open about his sexuality, his Communism, his compassion for the poor, the delinquent, and the young. He once wrote a poem for the dying Pope Pius XII that read, in part: How much good you could have done! And you Didn't do it.: There was no greater sinner than you

Pasolin's own death was a terribly banal sort of death. As far as the heterosexual status quo is concerned, Pasolini, a wealthy, older, and therefore "corrupt" man was killed by a poor and therefore "innocent" youth "disgusted" by his "advances." But, as every gay man knows, this homophobic scenario is never really the truth.

Pasolini's death (which involved the killer or killers driving over the artist's head with his own car) was a gay-bashing as certainly as was that of Matthew Shepard. The difference is that in 1975 the cultural climate was not as sympathetic to the spectacle of the death of an intellectual as it proved to be in 1998 with the death of a gay college student.

1932 – Michael Rumaker is an American author best known for his semi-autobiographical novels that document his life as a gay man in the 1950s and after.

Rumaker graduated from Black Mountain College in 1955 and later wrote a memoir of his time there. He hitchhiked to San Francisco where he encountered the literature of the Beat Generation. Returning to New York, he attended Columbia University and received an MFA in 1969, after which he began teaching writing.

His first book, The Butterfly, is a fictionalized memoir of his brief affair with a young Yoko Ono, published before Ono became famous. His short stories, Gringos and other stories, appeared in 1967. A revised and expanded version appeared in 1991. He began to write directly about his life as a gay man in the volumes A Day and a Night at the Baths (1979) and My First Satyrnalia (1981). The novel Pagan Days (1991) is told from the perspective of an eight-year old boy struggling to understand his gay self. Black Mountain Days, a memoir of his time at Black Mountain College, has a strong autobiographical element. In addition, there are portraits of many students and faculty (including the poets Robert Creeley, Charles Olson and Jonathan Williams) during its last years, 1952-1956.

Following his graduation from Black Mountain College, Rumaker made his way to the post-Howl, pre-Stonewall riots gay literary milieu of San Francisco, where he entered the circle of Robert Duncan. His account of that time in the book Robert Duncan in San Francisco gives an unvarnished look at the premier poet of the San Francisco Renaissance. Rumaker will release previously unpublished letters between himself and Robert Duncan for a new edition, published by City Lights.

1947 – Michael Mason (d.2015) was the news editor of Gay News who went on to co-found and edit the pioneering London paper Capital Gay and was a leading figure in the campaign for homosexual law reform.

Having been born in an era when homosexuality was illegal, Mason was bemused towards the end of his life to see a Conservative prime minister fighting for gay marriage. But, without his own tireless groundwork , such changes might not have happened.

Michael Aidan Mason was born in London. His father, Kenneth, was a Fleet Street journalist who later founded his own publishing house specialising in marine books.

Michael was sent as a weekly boarder to prep school in Surrey, then to Lancing College where, as well as singing in the chapel choir, he trysted happily with willing partners in the space below the school stage. It was there that he was discovered in flagrante while he was house captain.

Fortunately this did not derail his school career, and he went on to read Law at St Edmund Hall, Oxford.

In the early 1970s he encountered the Gay Liberation Front, the radical movement which offered gay people an alternative, more open, way of life to the furtive existence they had led hitherto. It completely changed his world view and he became a GLF activist.

The GLF dissolved and fragmented within a couple of years, but one of the fragments was Gay News, a hippie-style fortnightly. Excited by the concept of a gay newspaper, Mason got a job as business manager and within six months was news editor.

In 1981 Mason and his colleague Graham McKerrow broke away to set up a London-only paper called Capital Gay.

When a mystery sickness began claiming the lives of gay men in New York and San Francisco, Capital Gay appointed a medical columnist. The publication is credited by the Oxford English Dictionary as the world’s first to use the term HIV. It was ahead even of science journals, and British doctors read it to get information about the new disease from the United States. The prompt alert it offered is one reason Aids casualties were relatively low in London.

Mason’s proudest memory was being received at Grace Cathedral in San Francisco by the city’s mayor, Diane Feinstein, and asked to lead that year’s Pride parade. His lover Carl Hill had been arrested at immigration for wearing a gay badge while they were travelling to cover the event. They had become a cause célèbre, and this was San Francisco’s bid to atone.

After a decade with Carl Hill, he had a long-term relationship with David White, who later emigrated to Australia.

When Capital Gay finally collapsed in 1995 after a series of burglaries, Mason went to work as a legal secretary in a south London firm specialising in lesbian and gay immigration cases.

Soon after retirement, he was diagnosed with lung cancer which spread to his throat and his brain.

1990 – Matt Rogers is an American comedian, actor, writer, podcaster, and television host. He is best known for co-hosting the pop culture podcast Las Culturistas with Bowen Yang since 2016.

Rogers was born and raised on Long Island, New York. Rogers attended Islip High School and was named prom king at his senior prom. After graduating, he earned a BFA in Dramatic Writing from New York University. While studying, Rogers became a member of the improvisational group Hammerkatz and started studying at the Upright Citizens Brigade in 2009. It was while at NYU that Rogers first met Yang.

While studying at UCB, Rogers performed in several shows, including Characters Welcome and Amazing Welcome; he also performed in the Maude team and served as the artistic director of the musical sketch comedy group Pop Roulette. In 2016, Rogers was recognized as a "Comic to Watch" by Comedy Central. Since 2016, Rogers has co-hosted the podcast Las Culturistas with fellow NYU alumnus Bowen Yang

In 2020, Rogers hosted two television competition series. Gayme Show, co-hosted with Dave Mizzoni, was based on a popular comedy night in which straight men were quizzed on queer culture; the show aired for one season on the streaming platform Quibi. After initially being renewed for a second series, the show's current status remains in limbo following the closure of Quibi in October 2020. Also in 2020, Rogers became the host of Haute Dog, which aired on HBO Max and saw dog groomers compete for a cash prize.

As an actor, Rogers has made guest appearances on multiple television series, including Shrill, Awkwafina Is Nora from Queens, and Search Party. In 2021, it was announced that Rogers would have a starring role on the comedy series I Love That for You, in addition to a supporting role in the film Fire Island, a gay retelling of Pride and Prejudice.

He is gay, having come out while a student at NYU.

2007 – The first US soldier to be injured in the Iraq conflict, Marine Staff Sgt. Eric Alva, came out and announced his opposition to the US armed forces' "Don't ask don't tell" policy on homosexuality.

Today's Gay Wisdom:

Pier Paolo Pasolini

Pasolini, as he appeared in his own "The Decameron."

If you know that I am an unbeliever, then you know me better than I do myself. I may be an unbeliever, but I am an unbeliever who has a nostalgia for a belief. - Pier Paolo Pasolini

The mark which has dominated all my work is this longing for life, this sense of exclusion, which doesn't lessen but augments this love of life. - Pier Paolo Pasolini

One should never hope for anything. Hope is a thing invented by politicians to keep the electorate happy. - Pier Paolo Pasolini

I suffer from the nostalgia of a peasant-type religion, and that is why I am on the side of the servant. But I do not believe in a metaphysical god. I am religious because I have a natural identification between reality and God. Reality is divine. That is why my films are never naturalistic. The motivation that unites all of my films is to give back to reality its original sacred significance. - Pier Paolo Pasolini

Power has two ways of bringing racist hatred against the poor. The first point: leave them poor and a poor person comes to be hated. Make them policemen and they're accused of being killers. The moment a poor person becomes a killer he's open to racist hatred. This is horrible, we shouldn't experience this. I am obviously against the police. It's the arm upon which every power structure is built. And the power structure always tends towards the Right. I do, however, refuse to share in any type of racial hatred. - Pier Paolo Pasolini

I've never talked about the importance of the family, I'm against the family, the family is an archaic Remnant. During my childhood I had certain conflicts with my family whose background was definitely middle-class. My father represented the worst element I could imagine. It's rather difficult to talk about my relationship with my father and mother because I know something about psychoanalysis. What I can say is that I have great love for my mother. My origins are fairly typical of petty bourgeois, Italian society. I'm a product of unity of Italy as a Republic. - Pier Paolo Pasolini

I've stated various times that "Oedipus Rex" is an autobiography: my father who was an officer and my mother was more or less the woman played by Silvana Mangano. I live the Oedipus complex in a kind of laboratory fashion, in an almost elementary and schematic way. - Pier Paolo Pasolini

When I make a film I'm always in reality, among the trees and among the people; there's no symbolic or conventional filter between me and reality as there's in literature. The cinema is an explosion of my love for reality. I have never conceived of making a film that would be a work of a group, I've always thought of a film as a work of an author, not only the script and the direction but the choices of sets and locations, the characters, even the clothes. I choose everything, not to mention the music.  - Pier Paolo Pasolini

From Pier Paolo Pasolini's, Roman Poems:

I WORK ALL DAY...

I work all day like a monk and at night wander about like an alleycat looking for love... I'll propose to the Church that I be made a saint. In fact I respond to mystification with mildness. I watch the lynch-mob as through a camera-eye. With the calm courage of a scientist, I watch myself being massacred. I seem to feel hate and yet I write verses full of painstaking love. I study treachery as a fatal phenomenon, almost as if I were not its object. I pity the young fascists, and the old ones, whom I consider forms of the most horrible evil, I oppose only with the violence of reason. Passive as a bird that sees all, in flight, and carries in its heart, rising in the sky, an unforgiving conscience.

[anotherbluesunday]

✨Violet Midnight Ch. 14 Release✨

I closed my eyes and remembered his face. His eyes like the sky after a storm--cool and kind. Curls combed back like they were when we first met at grandma Imelda's bakery all those years ago. Donovan's skin kissed by the Mediterranean sun.

"Moon River" was playing on the stereo when he came barreling in. So young and handsome and hopelessly lost, he hardly knew a word in Spanish or where he was--the worry concealed behind wide doe eyes that shimmered like the sea. His curls fell onto his brow as he attempted contact. I can still see it now, Donovan in his linen shorts and white button down that had been hastily tucked into his waistline.

Grandma Imelda clicked her tongue at me as she emerged from the back kitchen where she had been preparing the dough for tomorrow's batch of bread. It was only a moment before she was as befuddled and amused as I was. But grandmother had a soft spot for dashing male damsels in distress. Smacking my shoulder with the back of her hand she told me not to make the poor boy suffer any longer. So straightening my posture I took the map from Donovan's hands and told him in English that his hostel was on the other side of town.

"Francoise Sylvenne." Extending my hand to him, my heart leapt when he took mine in his; it warm and strong with callouses on his fingertips.

"Donovan Galpin."

Donovan... The name suited him.

"Is this your shop?" Donovan asked somewhat awkwardly--our hands still joined as he looked around in gesture as if to punctuate his point.

I shook my head. "It's my grandmothers. I only work here during the summer. Then I go back to Sorbonne for school."

"What are you studying?" he said almost immediately only to fumble seconds later as he remembered his manners. "S-Sorry, I didn't mean to be rude or intrusive. I didn't mean anything by--"

"Music."

"Music?" Donovan echoed, face still flustered and worried.

"Mhm," I hummed. "Music composition and theory."

Emboldened by the fact that he had yet to release my hand I took a chance on this feeling I had.

"My shift ends in a quarter hour," I informed him casually hoping he would catch the encrypted tone of my voice. "If you wait until then I can show you to your hostel."

The boy was as smart as he was handsome because his eyes sparked and cheeks dimpled. "I'd like that."

Donovan, my darling. My tall, tan, and charming boy from the Carolinas, I still remember our first date. It wasn't supposed to be one. That's what you told me when I innocently teased you for how nice you looked in your dark jeans and button down. I wore my favorite red dress that night with the straps that you diligently slid back up my shoulders. You would later slip them off with kisses to my neck and chest that night when we returned to your room. I still remember the electric bliss of your caress. The desire and want in your kiss and power of your hands. How they held me close to you as you made me yours and I marked you as mine.

My heart broke the next morning when I had to leave. It would only be until Tuesday--two days time but still too long to wait. Our laughter filled that small bedroom as you pulled me back down onto the bed. As you showered me in kisses, took my hand in yours, and called me "darling" as your thumb stroked me cheek. Who knew the love and adoration I would come to know from a single word. A pet name that you called me and me alone. The name you whispered with a kiss to my forehead as I wept in your arms at the airport when you left.

I loved you so much.

.

.

.

#francoise galpin #francoise sylvenne #donovan galpin #sheriff galpin #netflix's wednesday #wednesday neflix #netflix wednesday #wyler #weyler #tyler galpin #wednesday addams #wednesday netflix #Violet Midnight fic #tyler x wednesday #wednesday x tyler #wednesday #tyler wednesday #wednesday tyler #wednesdayedit #wyleredit #wyler fanfiction #wyler fic #the addams family #addams family fanfiction #addams family #fanfic writers #archive of our own #ao3 author #ao3feed #ao3

[mariacallous]

LEÓN, Spain (JTA) — It’s the week before Easter in León, an ancient city in northwest Spain, and locals have poured into the streets to knock back glasses of wine-lemonade, an annual festivity that’s sometimes punctuated with a cheerful cry: “Matar judíos,” or “Kill Jews.”

“Semana Santa,” or Holy Week, is the most important religious period in Spain. León’s celebrations are particularly spectacular, marked by 10 days of music, sermons and about 30 processions, featuring some 16,000 penitents. It’s also a high season for visitors — in 2002, the city’s Holy Week was declared a “Festival of International Interest for Tourists.”

One fixture of these frenzied days is a Leonese cocktail made from red wine, lemons, cinnamon and sugar, sometimes with oranges and figs. Here it is called “limonada,” and virtually every bar in Barrio Húmedo, the city’s nightlife-packed medieval quarter, is plastered with signs advertising their version. It’s local tradition to drink 33 limonadas during Holy Week, representing the age of Jesus when he was crucified.

It’s also a centuries-old tradition for revelers seeking limonadas to say they are going out to “kill Jews.”

“It’s an expression here,” Margarita Torres Sevilla, a professor of medieval history at the University of León, told the Jewish Telegraphic Agency. “For example, you tell me, ‘Have a drink with me? Okay, let’s go kill Jews.’ Another typical sentence of Holy Week is, ‘How many Jews have you killed? Three, four, five [limonadas]? Oh, you have killed a lot.’”

In León, a city of about 124,000 that has no visible Jewish community, locals told JTA the phrase is not seen as vulgar or antisemitic. Some bars celebrate it as a point of pride in the city’s heritage, using the phrase as a hashtag when advertising their seasonal specials on social media.

“With the arrival of Holy Week also comes the season of Leonese limonada, a tradition that is popularly known as ‘killing Jews,’” said a Spanish-language Facebook post from Bar Genarín on March 10. “We offer you two varieties, the classic and a white.”

“It’s strange to foreigners, but they take it with a laugh,” said Sonia Da Costa, a server rushing plates and glasses to the swell of customers at Cafetería Chamberí, a local tapas bar. “Here it’s normal.”

The historic Jewish quarter of León, which has not seen a Jewish population in hundreds of years, comprises two streets embedded in the very Barrio Húmedo overflowing with limonadas today. Few traces indicate where the community lived; its three medieval synagogues were lost, the final one commemorated by a small plaque recently installed on Misericordia Street: “The third Jewish synagogue of León was built here (1370-1481).” On a side street branching off León’s central square, one stone doorway bears two vertical markings, which Torres Sevilla believes were left by a mezuzah.

Jews settled in the area starting in the 10th century. León produced Moses de León, a famed Jewish mystic, and became a center of Jewish religious thought. Jews lived in relative equality to León’s Christians, interrupted by sporadic spurts of violence, until 1293, when King Sancho IV banned them from owning farmland. Two decades later Jews were forced to wear a yellow badge, and starting in 1365 they had to pay a special tax, similar to one borne by Muslims.

The expression of “killing Jews” on Holy Week goes back to an episode in the 15th century, according to Torres Sevilla. León was economically devastated by war and the Black Death, leaving many Christian noblemen in debt. One such knight, Suero de Quiñones, owed payments to a Jewish merchant. To avoid paying his debt, Quiñones whipped up a religious fervor against León’s Jews on Holy Week in 1449. He organized a group of knights to attack the Jewish quarter, murdering the lender and several others on Good Friday.

“Quiñones said on Holy Week, our Lord was accused by the Jews and the Jews killed him,” said Torres Sevilla. “So what do we do with the Jews? Kill them. But the real reason was not a Christian motive — the real reason was that he had an important debt to an important merchant of the Jewish community.”

To celebrate their supposed vengeance for the death of Jesus, Quiñones and his allies went to drink wine in Barrio Húmedo. Thus commenced the ritual of downing limonadas to the refrain of “killing Jews,” said Torres Sevilla.

Other stories say the phrase emerged from the taming powers of limonada, authorized by medieval leaders in the midst of Holy Week’s abstinence and fasting to stop Christians from committing pogroms against Jews — by keeping them occupied in the taverns.

(The Leonese tradition of “Matar judíos” does not appear to be connected to the Spanish town about 150 kilometers east that was called Castrillo Matajudíos — or Fort Kill the Jews — from 1627, during a period of antisemitic persecution, until a few years ago.)

The region’s Jewish community did not last long after Quiñones’s attack. Jews were expelled from León in 1481, and 11 years later, under the Alhambra Decree of King Ferdinand II and Queen Isabella I, from all of Spain. Some historians have also linked limonada’s association with “killing Jews” to a quote attributed to Ferdinand, upon signing the expulsion decree in 1492: “Limonada que trasiego, judío que pulverizo” (“Limonada that I decant, Jew that I pulverize”).

Today, residents say the phrase is a social custom devoid of any connection to murder, religion or real-life Jews.

“People are used to it here, it’s an expression that is not racist at all,” said José Manuel, who works at Vychio Cafe Bar. “It’s an expression from a time period of racism but now, no, it’s an expression out of custom.”

Torres Sevilla said that a Jewish past lies dormant in León, even inside locals who may not know their own history. While tens of thousands of Jews fled Spain as a result of the Alhambra Decree, thousands of others stayed and converted. Torres Sevilla believes she is among the Spaniards descended from “conversos,” who preserved some distinct traditions despite becoming Christian. “Sevilla” is a historically Jewish surname. Her family goes to church on Saturday — not Sunday — and begins prayers on Friday, which starts the Jewish Shabbat. She grew up with a ritual, also found in other “converso” families, of cleaning the home and having clean clothes ready before Saturday.

Many Leonese Jews stayed and converted after 1492, she said, but their descendants may have no idea — and may even be among those calling to “kill Jews” with their limonadas on Holy Week.

“Everybody knows about ‘kill Jews,’ but nobody knows about the Jewish history of León,” said Torres Sevilla.

[kondensaduhhh]

I'm sorry but the way the crew just. STOOD there and watched Izzy die. like i guess that could be interpreted as the crew knowing there was no helping the situation bc they knew that This Was It, but fuck they could atleast held out hope that it wasn't. (my memory is shit, but this is s sort of fix-it so bear with me)

Roach was frantic, when was he wasn't? With so much crazed energy in him. But this was different. This was a life or death situation. This was Izzy. Roach never hated Izzy, he thought the guy was funny, albeit a bit strict. He was rummaging for something clean for once, no dirty old rag is going to be of use, maybe that was one of the reasons why he took so long, took too long. In the end he thought, 'Fuck it, captain's orders' as he went into the captain's quarters, knowing Stede, had something clean.

_-+-_

The wooden shark weighs heavy in Lucius's pocket, he holds Pete's hand tighter, burying his face into his lover's shoulder, Pete holds him tighter. He clenches his eyes tighter as he hears Fang, Frenchie, and Jim argue in watery voices, hear their frantic hands and panicked movements.

Frenchie never left Izzy's side as they boarded the ship, even as he felt as though the box he hid in his head was spilling through his ribcage and making a ruckus in his guts, everytime he presses down on the wound on Izzy's side, the man complains, groans louder, and the contents of the box was making his throat close up and eyes not work, and he wants to rip his hands away, just to make it all stop, but Jim is yelling at him in Spanish when he tried to. Both of his hands are covered in sticky, warm red and for once, Frenchie can't find it in himself to speak.

Fang is oh, so careful as he cradles Izzy's head, gently wiping away the beads of sweat, making shushing noises as Izzy complains, (he doesn't know whether it's to soothe Izzy or himself, or even Frenchie or Jim, or even Ed). He knows there are tears streaming down his face, he wants to sob, to wail, for his friend, but he fears it will jostle Izzy too much, like one hiccup will make Izzy take his last breath. So, instead he tries his best to calm Izzy down, make some of that ever present anger seep away as to not over exhaust his body than it already has. He offers a hand on Frenchie's nape, rubbing his thumb on the skin there, poor kid looks like he's going to pass out.

"Puta madre, Frenchie! Press down harder!" They snapped, their cracking voice betraying the anger they wanted to portray, "puñeta..." , their hands were barely able to hold anything with how much they were shaking, they were struggling with shoving the dirty rags into the wound, their breath catches as more blood seeps out as they push any and all fabric their useless hands can get a hold of to cork the blood flow.

They wanted to scream for Ed to get away, to scream at Izzy to not waste what very could be his last breaths on someone who cut off his toes, who shot him in the leg, who he had to protect them from, took most of the punishment from. Ed didn't deserve Izzy's final moments.

But... They can tell that the first mate is still in love with his captain, even after it all. Jim can't, and won't take that away from Izzy, not when his life is hanging on by a thread.

"What the fuck!? Get those dirt infested rags out of him!" Jim wanted to yell at whoever said that, but didn't get the chance to when Roach shoved himself into their space, holding a bright white somethings smelling vaguely of something floral.

Frenchie was finally able to get his hands off of Izzy but the contents of the box is still stuck in his chest, turning his arms into stone from the inside out.

"Hey, man, i think you should sit this one out, eh?" Fang? Oh, it's Fang, he realizes, and just like that, It's like Frenchie could breathe again, but the thought of leaving Izzy's side makes it hard to breath again, so he doesn't. "uh, yeah, no, i-im good, yeah..."

Jim hears Izzy's apology, and feels that burning in their bones, to keep Izzy away from Ed, just like he did to them during Ed's tantrums, the only thing stopping them from doing so is knowing that look in Izzy's eyes as he talks to Ed. If- no, no that's not gonna happen-- when Izzy survives this, they're going to make sure to set Izzy straight and make him know that what happened to him was fucked.

After 2 and a half of Stede's towels have been drenched in Izzy's blood, Roach was finally able to stem it from spilling out anymore. Izzy passed out around the middle of doaking the first towel, his pulse was weak, breathing shallow, but he's alive.

Izzy's alive.

idk if i should make a part 2, i have school in, like, 7 hours and i havent slept yet😭

#ofmd #ofmd s2 #ofmd season 2 #Izzy hands #ofmd spoilers #ofmd s2 spoilers #our flag means death

[milkymarble]

land of honey

here is an ode to all those south of the mason-dixon line, on either side of the grand mississippi

i like the taste of wild honeysuckle, smell of maturing magnolias. there's warm spring days, with rolling thunderstorms at night, sidewalks still wet the next morning

there's ladies with big hair, bigger weddings, inviting hald the town to watch you say "i love you i do I'll always love you"

neighbors gossip, hushed whispers and giggles, i like small talk with people in line at the grocery store, asking if they like that brand of bug spray

a cacophany of cicadas at night, whippoorwills and chick-a-dee-dee-dees, lullabies of croaking bullfrogs

i like faded churches on the side of single lane roads, you know they used to be just one big dusty room and i guess they always will be

i like red crosses and soup kitchens, storm shelters and booster drives

thanks for the casserole when my aunt died

i like peach cobbler, chess pie, country fried steak, loads of butter and eggs and flour and sugar

tea so sweet your mouth puckers, boiled peanuts sold from the side of the road, only $1.50 and you get free directions to the waterfall

i even like the people who hunt, i do. especially the ones who use all of the animal, who thank the deer for passing quickly and for gifting them a glorious dinner

the people who give antlers to their dogs

i like old women with hair so white its blue, with a smoker's rasp, with metallic lipstick and starched blouses, patent leather shoes and big red pocketbooks

i like driving through marshes and fields, cow pastures and blue ridge mountains, creeks falling to forests growing to gardens

i like square dancing, and slow dancing even more, and the little dark raves tucked in corners of empty downtowns filled with everyone like you

i like bluegrass and blues, jazz on corners in the french quarter, zydeco in acadiana, yes even country, i like singing country on the porch

i like slow guitar and crooning melodies of heartbreak and first love, of missing mom and hating dad

i like old faded trucks, the ones low to the ground without big engines, i like train tracks overrun with weeds

i like mardi gras, flashing beads thrown in smoky air, feathered up floats, stereos turned loud

i like the hundreds of peachtree streets and dozens of martin luther king jr. boulevards

there's buford highway, where you can eat food from every corner of the globe and still be right at home

pass by billboards in korean, spanish, english, all in three square miles

i like drag queens in sunday best, the same florals my grandmother likes

i like straw hats and creased-up boots, i like paper fans exchanged from hand to hand

i like hearing "yall stay safe now" i like how everyone is honey and baby and sweetheart, even if you've never met

i love you trailer park beauties

stay true, hillbilly rednecks

#southern gothic #the south #georgia #louisiana #alabama #mississippi #south carolina #north carolina #poetry #poem #spilled ink #new poets club #original poetry #new writers on tumblr #spilled prose #work in progress #wip #hometown #small town america #vintage americana #small town #gas station

[dwellordream]

“The story of the Cherokee illustrates how the lives of Indian people were drastically altered by American expansion. The Cherokees were one of the Five Civilized Tribes, so named because they had proved much more adept at integrating white culture into their own than had other tribes. In the eyes of white Americans, the Cherokees were perhaps the most ‘civilized’ of the five.

…Although the Cherokees were willing to adopt some Anglo-American traditions, they held onto other parts of their culture. Within Cherokee culture, women were responsible for almost all agricultural production. They worked the soil, seeded and weeded the land, harvested the results, collected the firewood, cooked the food, and processed the leftovers for winter. Cherokee women also made clothing, pottery, and baskets for use by the tribe and for trade. Cherokee men were responsible for hunting, fishing, and warfare.

…For a Cherokee woman, power in the community meant more power in her marriage. After marriage, a husband would come to live among his wife’s relations. If the marriage ended in separation, the man was expected to return to his mother’s house to live. Any children born during the marriage would remain in the mother’s house and would be cared for by the mother’s extended family. Any shuffling of marriage partners took place while the core extended family remained constant, thus giving children a safe harbor from the usual problems of ‘broken homes.’

To missionaries and other reformers, such arrangements made no sense, and they struggled mightily to instill the ideals of European domesticity into the tribe. Reformers hoped that the Cherokees and other tribes would embrace the ideal of separate spheres, so that husbands worked in the fields, wives in the home, and both knew their place. …Missionaries then teamed up with a number of Cherokee leaders--women as well as men--to try to persuade the Cherokees to accept Anglo-American ideas about the roles of men and women. The leadership supported the establishment of schools, run by missionaries, that would teach young Cherokees about Anglo-American culture. Missionaries were especially concerned with ‘domesticating’ Cherokee girls.

…Cherokee leaders had hoped that acculturation would lead to acceptance by whites. But while missionaries and reformers were concerned with the Cherokees’ cultural transformation, most whites in the South merely wanted the tribe’s land. These whites were supported by President Andrew Jackson, who had never hidden his prejudice against Indians. The state of Georgia nullified the Cherokee constitution in 1829 and demanded that the Cherokees sell their land to the state for $30,000.

…When most Cherokees refused to move in 1838, President Marshall Van Buren--who had been Jackson’s Vice President--ordered the army to round up those who resisted. The Cherokees, after being forced into detention camps, were then herded toward Indian Territory. More than a quarter of the Cherokee marchers perished along the way. For Cherokee women, the ideal of domesticity did not bring peace and harmony, as the missionaries and Cherokee leaders had hoped. The ideal of domesticity had given northern middle-class women the opportunity to use the home as a jump-off point to political activity. For Cherokee women, however, domesticity meant the loss of their economic and political power.

…The Indians of California were first conquered not by Americans, but by Hispanics from the Spanish colony of Mexico. These Californos, as the Spanish came to be called, were eager to convert the local Indian tribes to the Catholic faith. Unlike the American missionaries, however, the Californos established elaborate missions for the purpose of utilizing Indian labor while at the same time teaching Catholic beliefs.

The mission system called for Indians to pledge their souls to Catholicism, and to hand over control of their lives to the Catholic padres, or fathers, who led the missions. After a number of years of training, and vigorous tests to prove that these converted Catholics had been civilized, the transformed Indians would be freed from the mission’s control and given their own land. They could then become independent small farmers and loyal subjects of Spain. Like most missionaries’ visions, the Californos’ system was fatally flawed. Few Indians seemed to have become sufficiently civilized in the eyes of the padres to be released from the missions.

…In order to attract new converts to the missions, the padres specifically recruited Indian women. The missions had a number of advantages to offer them. Unlike many other Indian cultures, California Indian tribes were extremely patriarchal--power belonged to the men; women had little control either over the community’s affairs or within their families. Thus, the material conditions at the missions were much improved for women.

…Although the soldiers were ultimately responsible for the destruction of the California Indians, their chief weapons were not the sword and the gun. Rather, the soldiers decimated the Indian population by spreading syphilis among them. This deadly sexually transmitted disease had been unknown to California Indians before the arrival of the Spaniards, and it wreaked havoc among the native population. The Spaniards most often infected Indians by raping Indian women caught in raids.”

- Michael Goldberg, “Conquerors and Conquered.” in Breaking New Ground: American Women, 1800-1848

#michael goldberg #history #colonialism #indigenous #christian #gender #cw: rape #19th century