#African bangles

[creativity-island]

Shop TSHIRTLA20 on Etsy

https://rolls.bublup.com/view/5aa4b57a-f724-4698-8fc2-9d0fa455f0bf

View On WordPress

#2 pac #20% off #8x5 pouch #add your dog&039;s name #adjustable necklace #affordable personalized pet bed #affordable pet bed #African bangles #african bracelet #African jewelry #American Belizean #ANKH #appreciation gift #Authentic Belize

[feemeyl]

Coiled wire bangle — Masai, Kenya or Tanzania

#bangles #african jewelry #africa #vintage style #vintage jewelry #coiled wire bangles #kenya #tanzania

[timelessfineries]

Bijou sud-africain traditionnel ::: Timeless Fineries

Bracelet africain tubulaire à motifs zoulous composé de perles de rocaille blanches et multicolores.

#bijou africain #bracelet zoulou #timeless fineries #mode tribale #afrique du sud #bijou ethnique #bracelet africain #bijou blanc et multicolore #zulu bangle #african jewelry #ethnic fashion #traditional jewelry

[digitalagepulao]

Expedition Pilgrims

Sha Wujing (435cm): His outfit is mostly inspired by Mongolian clothes since he's found in the Gobi desert stretch of the journey. His bangles are made of fossil bone, and he can use the waist cloth as a headwrap during adverse weather. His markings are inspired by African Lungfish and Mudfish fins, as they are species that exist somewhere between water and dry air. The beasts on his knees are an extension of him, and he can see and speak through them as needed. His beard and long hair can have Ghibli physics depending on his mood and emotions. Zhu Wuneng (~300cm): Inspired by Northern Tibetan clothes, as that's the region the group recruits him. Traditional clothes tend to have way more accessories and golden details so I had to simplify a bit. His features are a mix of wild boars and Indonesian babirusa, with the iconic bristles on his head. I leaned on ceremonial Tibetan swords and necklace beads for the decorations on his rake. His vest can be closed, he just prefers not to most of the time. Sun Wukong (125cm): I've already commented on his design over here, but I'll elaborate that the yellow shirt is the one he gained from Tripitaka soon after he was released, while the pants and red half-robe were the garments he was given by Guan Yin. The hoops on his feet and purple beads were reacquired back in Huaguoshan when he first fled the pilgrimage, heading to his family instead of Ao Guang's palace. (A-ma and Jinju gave them to him so he'll always have something to home to remember them by, as well as where he first started, as the beads were gained during his lessons with Subodhi.) Tripitaka (163cm): This is but one of his many outfits since travel can be rough on clothes, and even more so when you get kidnapped by demons and thrown off your horse all the time. He wears the usual orange monk robes, with some kind of travel clothes over them. He gains some fur boots from Boquin for cold weather but usually prefers sandals most of the time. He seldom uses the cassock and crown he received from Guan Yin, save for when he pays respects to temples and holy sites, but the staff is a constant companion. Ao Lie (167cm, 130cm at the shoulder as horse): Being effectively in exile until the journey is complete, he wears less fancy clothes than he usually would as a prince, but his status still shows. I tried to balance more casual hanfu of the era with some armor parts, like the waist guard and armored boots. He was given the skill to shapeshift into a horse by Guan Yin when she commanded him to wait for the chosen pilgrim monk, so he can shift at will, but preferably when the tack has been taken off. Speaking of, tack is lost and replaced multiple times during the journey, so I didn't depict any specific one.

my Expedition AU designs and heights for the five lads, ive spent so much time on this its not even funny lololol but hey it's done!! i'm free!!

#journey to the west #jttw #xiyouji #jttw au #jttw fanart #expedition to the west au #Sun clan au #bell dragon art #sun wukong #monkey king #sha wujing #zhu bajie #tang sanzang #tang xuanzang #tripitaka #bai longma #ao lie

[kimolisai]

Using Bing Create with the prompt: Painterly Full body picture of a gently smiling mature african american lady with grey afro wearing vivid orange rimmed glasses. She has a white buttoned shirt with a hand painted african design that includes a big sun and other happy symbols and designs. She is wearing long colorful chunky bead necklace and bangles on her wrist

#ai artwork #ai generated #ai image #bing create #bing image creator #generative art #melanin poppin #black is beautiful #blktumblr #blkcreatives #blkgirldaily #black tumblr #black girl magic

[thatsmzbitchtoyou]

"Emotional" Peter Parker fanfic

Here's another long one shot for y'all! (6132 words) Trying out Peter Parker this time. Reader is a mutant with powers. Hope you like it! *Slight smut... *"Usisi" means sister in Xhosa

Peter couldn’t stop staring.  Shuri had invited him and the rest of what was left of the Avengers to Wakanda for a mental health retreat.  After everything that had happened over the past decade she figured that during a time of relative world peace would be the best opportunity to get everyone together for some healing.  Peter had seen a lot in his 25 years so far, but was not prepared for the seemingly death defying entrance into Wakanda, its advanced technology, the amazing mixture of traditional African style and futuristic design.  He was enamored with the country.  Yet even all of that had not prepared him for the sight of the woman before him.

“Welcome, Avengers, to Wakanda,” Shuri’s voice echoed as they entered the palace.  “I have invited you all here for a retreat to focus on healing, whatever that may mean to you.  Some of you have met her, but for those who have not, this is Y/N,” she announced as she gestured to the woman next to her.

Peter swore he’d never seen such a beautiful woman in his life.  Y/N was dressed in what he assumed were traditional Wakandan robes that matched the color of raw Vibranium.  She was decked in necklaces, bracelets, bangles and large earrings, all of different colors and metals that somehow still complimented her robes.  She wore no shoes, and her hands that were crossed in front of her were covered in what looked like a blackout tattoo from her fingertips to an inch above her wrists.  The black seemed to fade up her wrist, like she’d been sprayed with a matte black paint.  Her long fingernails matched the black color.  As she raised a hand in greeting to the Avengers and then swept a piece of hair out of her eyes, the deep black created a stark contrast to her long, intricately braided white hair that glittered a silver sheen in the light.  Her Y/C eyes were piercing as she looked each newcomer over, analyzing them, as her lips were pulled into a small, reassuring smile.  She was a burst of colors and contradictions and Peter couldn’t help but ogle.  Bucky, who was standing next to him, nudged Peter with his elbow, causing Peter to cough awkwardly.  Bucky snickered.

“Hello, everyone,” Y/N finally spoke.  Peter found her voice to be his new favorite sound.  “I look forward to getting to know each of you.  As for those of you I’ve already met,” her eyes flickered over Bucky and Sam, “welcome home.”

Bucky and Sam took that as an invitation to approach her.  They each had warm smiles as they took turns to give Y/N a long embrace and say their greetings quietly.  Peter noticed how she had different greetings for each of them, small hand or arm touches that she would give them.  A firm squeeze on Sam’s forearms and delicate scratch of Bucky’s beard.  Peter was surprised when Bucky willingly leaned down and pressed his forehead and nose against hers.  He had never seen Bucky get particularly close to anyone other than Sam, and he felt a flare of jealousy in his chest.  He mentally chastised himself.  Peter didn’t know Y/N, he didn’t have any kind of relationship or claim to her, and Bucky was older, handsome, and had some type of history with her.  Peter hung his head in personal shame at himself, looking away from the intimate moment.

“Y/N is an empath, a mind reader, and can manipulate energies,” Shuri informed the group.  “She was born a mutant, with the abilities to read and manipulate others’ thoughts and emotions and the energy around her in many forms.”  Peter’s head snapped back up at that piece of information, his eyes bugging wide.

“She will be able to help you work through your thoughts, emotions, past experiences, mental and emotional blocks, and process trauma.  She helped Sergeant Barnes considerably in his recovery from his experiences from Hydra.  She is also an adopted member of my family, so I hope you will all be able to gain the help and healing you seek, and find a new home and family with us here.”  Shuri spread her arms and gestured to the palace, then pointed to some members of the staff that were standing off to the side.  “You will each have a member of the palace staff assigned to you to help you while you’re here.  If you have any questions or requests please reach out to them.  Your belongings have all been brought to your respective rooms already.  Dinner will be served in one hour, so you can take some time to get settled and rest before then.  And again, welcome home.”

Peter was greeted by a woman named Ayala who had him follow her down an adjoining hallway.  He took a quick glance back at Y/N, who was already looking back at him.  His cheeks grew hot as she flashed him a smile.

***

One hour later and all the Avengers and royal family were eating some of the most delicious food Peter had ever tasted.  He was seated in between Shuri and Carol Danvers.  He and Carol had become good friends over the last few years and had a teasing and sarcastic friendship.  He hadn’t had a chance to really meet Shuri until now, and felt intellectually stimulated talking to her about her inventions, the properties and uses of vibranium, the Wakandan technology and science jargon that he hadn’t been able to talk about in a long time.  He suddenly felt a twinge of pain as he realized the last time he’d felt like this was with Tony Stark and his friends that he lost from the spell Dr. Strange casted years before.  He wound down the conversation with Shuri and focused on his food, which became less appetizing by the second.  He took a large gulp of water from his cup to help with the thickness developing in his throat.  It had been so long since he lost Tony, Ned, MJ, his aunt May, yet he couldn’t seem to move on with his life without them and that support system behind him.

He felt a hand softly rub his upper back.  Peter looked up and behind his chair to find Y/N looking at him, her eyebrows tilted up in the middle in concern.  She jerked her head to the side to signal him to follow her.  Peter simply nodded at her and excused himself from the table.  Once he was standing she took his hand in hers and led him out of the dining hall.  Peter didn’t know what was happening, but he knew his hand was in hers and that they fit perfectly together.  Y/N opened a door that he realized was across the hall from the room he was staying in.  Was this her room?  He was met with a brightly colored room covered in fairy lights in the shapes of stars, tons of exotic plants that doused the space in tropical scents, and almost every surface looked soft, covered in pillows and blankets and cushions.  It looked like a Bohemian dream, and Peter felt calmer instantly.

Y/N led him to a small couch on the right side of the bedroom, motioning for him to sit down.  Peter sat at one end of the couch thinking she would sit on the opposite end, but she knelt on the floor in front of him, poised between his legs.  Peter was shocked and apprehensive, his cheeks flushing again at her close proximity.  She surprised him again by taking his hands in hers, shifting closer and getting comfortable.  She began massaging his hands, the movements of her black fingers mesmerizing.  

“I try not to read others’ thoughts and emotions,” Y/N said quietly so as not to startle him.  Peter’s eyes landed back on her face.  She wasn’t looking at him but focusing on his hands.  When he didn’t reply she continued.  “It may be an ability of mine, but I also believe in privacy.  I will always try to never read or manipulate your thoughts or emotions without your consent, Peter.”

Peter could have died on the spot from the way she said his name.  Her comforting voice and actions were making him emotional.

“That being said,” she said, “I can block out people’s thoughts, but feelings and emotions are a lot…” she paused, searching for the right word.  “Louder,” she decided, “and we humans tend to feel deeply.  So sometimes I can’t ignore ‘loud’ feelings from people around me.  And you,” she glanced at his face, her eyes twinkling, “wear your emotions on your sleeve.”

Peter could feel his eyes burning with unshed tears.  He tensed slightly under her gaze, feeling embarrassed.

“It’s nothing to be embarrassed or ashamed of,” she reassured him, her fingers slipping up to his wrists, rubbing slowly up his arms, relieving stress along the tensed muscles.  “Feeling deeply, passionately, can be a strength.  Many people I’ve worked with over the years, all you superheroes, feel the need to be strong.”  Y/N moved her hands to his shoulders, massaging the tough knots littered there.  Peter’s eyes almost rolled to the back of his head.  When was the last time he’d been touched like this?

“Superheroes tend to want to numb themselves,” she continued.  “Numbness means peace, means you won’t hurt others or means you can’t get hurt anymore.  But it’s also a pretty miserable way to live,” she paused to watch his face again, making sure he was still with her.  “Tony was like that.”

Peter’s head jerked up, his eyes widening at the mention of the name.  His hands flew up to grip her wrists gently, stopping her movements and leaned himself closer to her.  He searched her eyes for any sign of a lie.

“You knew Tony?” his voice came out as a whisper.

“Oh yeah,” Y/N nodded, a wide smile spreading across her face.  Her hands twisted out of his grip so that she could hold his hands.  “Steve called me after the Snap,” she explained.  “He lost Bucky, again, and he came to me for help.  He could tell that Tony needed help processing what happened.  We all did.”  Her voice grew quiet.  “Tony internalized a lot, didn’t want his emotional baggage to be a burden to others, joked about his trauma, and at first shrunk into himself.  He kept himself busy so as not to think about it.  But Pepper was pregnant,” she smiled, “and he knew he had to be better for her, for the baby…for Morgan.”

Peter felt like he was grasping Y/N’s hands too hard as he grounded himself.  He needed to hear this.

“I worked with him weekly for the first 2 years of the Blip, then monthly, then I’d just come by when he called.  He made a lot of progress.  He was just like you.  Felt deeply, emotions on his sleeve, passionate to a fault,” she paused and focused on his hands, her thumbs began softly rubbing his knuckles.  

“You were the reason, you know?” she said quietly.  Peter focused on her eyes.  She was blinking back tears.  “Tony figured out time travel, worked with the Avengers again, risked everything he had worked so hard for, just for the chance to bring everyone back…to bring you back,” her voice wavered.  Y/N gazed up at him, her tears finally falling.

Peter felt like the air had been knocked out of him.  He had known that Tony cared for him, might have loved him in a son-he-never-had-way, but he assumed that reversing the Snap had been because it was the right thing to do, normal Ironman saving the world, or universe, type of thing.  He couldn’t figure out whether to feel extremely privileged or guilty.  It was his fault, Tony died because of him…oh God, oh God…

Y/N could see him spiraling and let go of his hands to cup his cheeks, forcing him to look at her.

“Don’t feel like that,” she said firmly, her eyes burning into his.  “Don’t you dare, Peter.  Tony did what he did for you, for me, for all of us.  He did it because it was the right thing.  He did it because he knew he could never rest until he at least tried to bring everyone back.  Tony did what he had to do because he loved you!” she gently shook his face in her hands as if to rattle his brain into understanding.

Peter silently cried, the tears spilling and he sniffed quickly.  Y/N sighed, then moved her right hand from his cheek down to his chest.  He didn’t dare move, unsure of what he was doing.  She placed her hand on his chest over his heart.  “I’ll show you,” she said resolutely.

Peter’s brow furrowed in confusion, then saw a bright white light starting to glow from her palm over his heart.  His eyes widened and he gasped, but then he felt something start to seep into his skin where her hand lay.  It felt like honey dripping down and through his skin, his muscles, deep into his veins, its warmth enveloping him whole.  The feeling seeped up his head and he could feel it tickling his brain, firing neurotransmitters all at once, muddling his thoughts so all he could focus on was this feeling.  He felt warm, encompassed by light, like all his worries melted away as it oozed through him.  It felt like love.  Peter’s heart was beaming, and he could feel the tears flowing heavily as he smiled.  He was instantly addicted to this feeling, to this reassurance that the love he felt for that father figure in his life truly loved him back.  Tony may not have been the best at saying it, but Peter now knew that all the things he’d done were Tony’s way of showing his love.

After a few moments the oozing feeling began to recede slowly.  Peter couldn’t seem to stop crying, a small laugh escaping his lips.  He realized that his hand had reached up to cover Y/N’s hand placed over his heart.  He focused on Y/N, who was now crying.

“He loved you, Peter,” she whispered, her lips quivering.  “He loved you so much.”

Peter didn’t know what came over him, but in a rush of adrenaline from overwhelming happiness and relief, he wrapped his arms around Y/N in a hug.  She didn’t hesitate in hugging him back.  It seemed like she needed that hug as much as he did.  For the first time in a long time, Peter felt peace.  

***

After that first night in Wakanda, Peter found himself seeking out Y/N constantly.  She had explained that the form of therapy she focused on with each person was based on the idea of their love language and had Peter take the quiz online as well as interview him about his life.  Unsurprisingly, Peter’s main love language was physical touch.  Y/N told him how people who tended to be touch-starved would often have their main love language turn out to be physical touch.  Like with Bucky, how he had been through torture, fighting constantly for decades, so when he was finally shown a kind, gentle, loving hand, he thrived.  Which explained her little signs and greetings she used with him.  It grounded him and reminded him of the good.  “Everyone deserves happiness, affection and love in this life,” she had reminded him.

Y/N and Peter then decided on a signal for when Peter needed some grounding or a reminder that he was loved.  He would tap the spot over his heart 3 times, and she would give him a small dose of that emotion of love from Tony as she laid her hand on his chest.  Peter didn’t do it all the time, but frequently enough that it was done between them out of habit.

Y/N scheduled specific times with each of the Avengers for therapy, and since she was a very intimate person, she held hands, cuddled, hugged, and gave kisses on the cheek to those comfortable with it.  She was extra close to Bucky, and Peter found himself feeling the jealousy creeping further into his mind as the weeks passed. 

He knew that the two were friends, but with how much she intimately cared for Bucky filled Peter with paranoia.  He was suspicious and resentful towards Bucky.  What was worse was that Bucky could tell how Peter was feeling, as he smirked every time he caught Peter glaring or sulking in the corner as Y/N spent time with Bucky or would hug Bucky or Bucky Bucky Bucky!

It all became too much one morning when he saw Y/N walk out of Bucky’s room, her hair ruffled and clothes wrinkled, yawning and stretching as Bucky came out right behind her, looking well-rested and smiling.  Peter swore under his breath and stomped into the kitchen.  Unfortunately they followed him moments later.

“Good morning, Peter,” Y/N asked groggily.  “Are you okay?”

“Fantastic,” Peter spat.

Y/N looked taken aback.  Peter never spoke harshly towards her.  Bucky let out a small snort and went to the fridge for some breakfast.  Y/N watched Peter as he turned away to the pantry for cereal.

“What’s wrong?” she asked quietly, slowly approaching him.

“Nothing,” he sighed, keeping away from her as he walked around the kitchen, grabbing a bowl and spoon.

“Well obviously something is wrong,” Y/N scoffed and followed him.  “Do you want to talk about it?”

“Just spit it out, man,” Bucky yawned.  “She’ll get it out of you one way or another.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?” Peter snapped, whipping to face Bucky.

“I said what I said,” Bucky sassed back.

“Hey, enough!” Y/N slapped her hand on the counter.  “Peter, what is going on?  Tell me now.  I don’t want to read you but I will if I need to.”

When Peter refused to answer and glared at the floor, Bucky scoffed loudly.  “He’s jealous.”

Y/N’s head swiveled between the two of them.  “Jealous of what?”

“You and me,” Bucky said nonchalantly, taking a sip of his orange juice.

“Me and you for what?” she exasperatedly asked.

“Oh please!” Peter finally yelled.  “What do you mean ‘for what’?  What are you doing coming out of Bucky’s room in the morning looking like that?” he waved towards her.

Y/N furrowed her brow, looking down at herself in confusion.

“Is this how you help us?  ‘Heal’ us?” he air-quoted.  “Or I guess just some of us,” Peter gestured towards Bucky.

“Choose your words carefully, bud,” Bucky warned.

“Wait,” Y/N waved her hands.  “Are you trying to say…do you think I’ve been sleeping with Buck?”

“What else would it be?!” Peter knew he looked and sounded crazy, but the little green monster of jealousy was loose, and he was failing at wrangling it back in.  “I can understand you two being close, that you’ve known each other a long time, you’ve helped him through a lot, but this?  What kind of therapy is this?”

“Peter–”

“Is that how you make him feel better?  Make him forget his nightmares?”

“Pete–”

“Take the pain away with some sexual healing?!”

*SLAP*

Peter jerked back, holding his cheek as his face stung.  He looked up at Y/N with wide eyes.  She was glaring at him, her hand shaking at her side in anger.  Bucky’s mouth hung open, eyes darting between them.  Y/N straightened her stance, closed her eyes and balled her blackened hands into fists.

“Buck,” she breathed.  Bucky quickly retreated back to his room with his food, shutting the door loud enough for them to hear.

Peter was stunned and fearful.  He’d never seen this side of Y/N, and shame overcame him as he knew he’d brought this out of her.  She unballed her fists and crossed her arms over her chest, slowly opening her eyes to look at him.  Her eyes were filled with a simmering anger that he could have sworn he could see it burning in her irises.

“Listen good, Parker, because I’m only going to say this once,” Y/N spoke lowly, scaring Peter further while breaking his heart that she used his last name rather than his first.  “I am not a traditional therapist.  I am not licensed, therefore I am not bound by a code of ethics or client-therapist privilege.  I use my abilities to help people, and at times I’ll use techniques and practices that I’ve studied to see what works best for each person,” she paused and looked away.  “What worked for me,” she murmured.  Peter had the urge to reach out to her, but her eyes quickly came back to him with that fire.

“I treat each person as I see fit, within the boundaries they set.  For Sam, all he needs is a listening ear and a hug.  For Tony, I had to sit back and let him morbidly joke and tease and sarcastically rant through all his trauma.  And as for Bucky,” Y/N’s voice was raising, her arms falling to her sides as she stepped closer to Peter, “Bucky has been through literal hell and back, multiple times, for decades.  He was left on ice then used as a human war machine, his mind erased, his body battered, abused, and experimented on.  He had not felt a kind hand or been given a loving word for over 70 years!” Y/N was now yelling, her hand slapping the kitchen counter again.  Peter backed up into the wall behind him as she took another step towards him.

“So forgive me, Parker, for helping him get through the nightmares that he still suffers with regularly, even if it means cuddling and sleeping in his bed so that he doesn’t hurt himself.  Forgive me for using intimacy and physical touch as his love language to ground him and make him feel safe, wanted, and loved!”

Y/N was now toe-to-toe with Peter, looking up at him with a conviction and fury that had him withering. Her emotions must have been getting the best of her because he could feel that oozing feeling flowing in his body, but instead of the comforting balm he’d grown accustomed to now it felt like a parasite licking its way through every vein.  He shuddered at the feeling, then grunted as she poked his chest hard with her blackened finger.

“And even if I had sex with Bucky, or anyone I’ve ever helped before, it would be none,” *poke*, “of your,” *poke*, “fucking,” *poke*, “business.”  Y/N stared him down as his eyes welled up with tears and another oozing feeling overcame the anger.  It was hurt.  He had hurt her, and Peter would never forgive himself.

Y/N’s eyes softened and she dropped her finger from his chest, stepping away from him.  She took a deep breath, closed her eyes, and as she composed herself Peter felt the ooze fade, leaving him emotionally drained.  She flexed her fingers and rolled her shoulders, and when she opened her eyes they were shining with unshed tears.  Peter sniffled at the sight.

“You don’t own me, Peter,” she cried, her voice cracking.  “I am my own.  I belong to no one but myself.  You have no claim to me.  So stop feeling jealous over something, someone, that you have no right to be jealous of,” she sniffed, her lips drawing into a hard thin line.  Peter silently cried, hating himself for making her cry.

“I…I’m sorry,” he whispered, not knowing what else to say at the moment.  Y/N just gave him a long look, then finally nodded her head and walked quickly out of the kitchen.  Peter slumped to the floor, dropping his head into his hands.  How could he be so stupid?

***

The next two weeks were awkward, and it was hell.  Everyone knew that something had happened, they just weren’t sure what.  Y/N still held appointments with everyone else, and would greet everyone throughout the day, but she was much more quiet and reserved.  She gave polite smiles and exchanged quiet conversation, but was not her normal, bubbly, outgoing self.  She touched everyone, except for Peter.

Peter wasn’t fairing well.  Bucky had chewed him out shortly after Y/N left him a heap on the kitchen floor.  He took the verbal beating, knowing he deserved it.  At that point nothing could hurt him as bad as him offending Y/N.  He kept his head hung low whenever they were in the same room, and although it made him feel sick to his stomach, he knew he didn’t deserve her touch and the calming effect she used to give him.  He tried to go to her room once, to talk, apologize again, but couldn't muster up the courage to knock on the door.

The rest of the Avengers could sense the tension, and after a third week of silence between the two, Shuri had enough.

“Usisi,” she called as she knocked on her door.  Y/N shuffled to the door and opened it wide, not meeting Shuri’s gaze, her eyes rimmed red and a sad sniffle coming from her.  Shuri stepped in and enveloped her in her arms.  Y/N buried her face into Shuri’s neck, her arms wrapping tightly around her waist.

“There, there,” Shuri consoled her.  “Come now, why are you letting the jealous words of a man affect you?”

“I just…” Y/N sighed, pulling away and wiping her eyes.  “It just felt like he was different, somehow,” she huffed out.

Shuri nodded and led her to the couch in her room.  Y/N plopped down on it dramatically, shoving her face in a pillow.  Shuri chuckled at her antics.  

“Your abilities cause you to feel things on a heightened level, usisi,” Shuri began.  Y/N pulled herself up and turned to face her on the couch.  “You know how others feel before they can identify those feelings for themselves.  But you have had difficulty knowing your own feelings at times, which is normal.  You do not give yourself grace in your moments of humanity.  And although Parker did not have justifiable emotions or words that day, he is remorseful,” Shuri took her hand, rubbing Y/N’s knuckles softly.

“I know,” Y/N whispered, not trusting her voice.  She squeezed her hand back.  “I’ve grown extremely…attached to him, and it scares me.  It just feels like everyone I ever love,” she shuddered another breath, swallowing past the lump in her throat, “they leave.  Either on their own or they die on me,” she huffed a laugh at her morbid joke.  Shuri wiped away the tears Y/N wasn’t aware had fallen, nodding in understanding.  They had both lost a lot recently.

“I love you, and I’m still here,” Shuri said.  “Our people love you as their own, the Avengers love you, and not just because you help them.  And all those we have lost through death are not ever really gone, you know that.  As for any who have left you willingly, their absence is only a shadow compared to all the love you have in your life.  Peter loves you, most likely in a much more romantic way.  You always tell others that they deserve love and happiness in their lives.  Even if it’s scary, don’t you deserve to have those things, too?”

Y/N sighed as Shuri finished speaking.  She wasn’t sure if she deserved it, but she sure as hell wanted love and happiness.  Life was too hard already, too short but also so long, for her to deny herself some of its greatest beauties.

“Don’t let fear cloud your decisions, Y/N.  Be brave and accept the love you deserve.  What is the saying in that song you love?”  Shuri paused, and brightened when she remembered.  “The greatest thing you’ll ever learn is just to love and be loved in return.”

***

Peter sat on the floor, his back leaning against the bed.  He had just tumbled out of bed from a nightmare, taking off his t-shirt that was stuck to his sweaty chest.  He tried to breathe deeply and focus on the things around the room like the color on the walls, the pattern on the bed sheet, counting items and the sound of the soft warm breeze coming through the open window.  The nightmares had come back full force this last week, and the only person he wanted to seek comfort from was ignoring him right now.

He dropped his head into his hands, trying to mentally silence the pounding of his heartbeat in his ears.  Breathing in through his nose and out through his mouth, his face hot with tears he quietly cried, he didn’t hear his door open or the padding of feet slowly approach him.  Peter jerked when a hand touched his elbow, and his eyes widened to see Y/N crouched in front of him.  Her usually styled and braided hair was loose and she was wearing an open robe over a tank top dress that reached mid-thigh.  He had never seen her so relaxed.  Her hand slowly moved from his elbow to his hand, interlacing her fingers with his.  She maneuvered herself so that she was straddling his lap while her other hand began sweeping through his sweaty curls.

Her tenderness caused another flood of emotion to wrack through Peter’s body and he cried harder.  He released his hand from hers and wrapped his arms around her waist, pulling her tightly against him, his face buried into her chest.  Y/N shushed him as he wept, letting him cry it out, her hands massaging along his shoulders and neck and petting his hair.  For a while they sat there, holding each other, until Peter’s cries quieted.  Y/N’s eyes flew open as she felt Peter move his head to nuzzle her chest and place a wet kiss over her heart.

“I’m sorry, Y/N,” he whispered, his hands rubbing up and down her back.  “What I said was stupid and inappropriate and I’m just so, so very sorry,” he whimpered and Y/N pulled away.  He quickly gripped her hips, afraid she would leave, but she gently cupped his face in her hands.  She wiped away his tears with her thumbs and shushed him again.  She felt his conflicting emotions and decided to take pity.

Y/N slid her hand from his face to his chest.  She tapped the spot over his heart three times then pressed her hand flat.  The honey-like feeling bloomed in his chest and he visibly slumped against her chest.  She let him revel in it for a long while, her other hand playing with the hair at the nape of his neck.  She felt a few more hot tears fall on her breast, but also a smile form on his lips near her cleavage.  Y/N smiled and slowly pulled her hand away, bringing it back up to his face and pulling him back up to look at her.

“Peter,” she breathed.  He gasped lightly at hearing his name on her lips for the first time in weeks.  “I forgive you,” she said simply.  Peter’s hands tightened on her hips again.  She softly swept her thumbs across his cheeks, her smile widening.  “You’ve got to work on your jealousy, though,” she added, a small giggle slipping out.  Peter huffed a laugh, his head dipping as Y/N’s laugh deepened.

“I know, I know,” he muttered.  He wrapped his arms around her middle again and squeezed as he settled his face in the crook of her neck.  “But we’re good, right?” he hesitantly asked, nuzzling her collar bone.  Y/N scoffed at him and wrapped her arms around his shoulders again.

“Yes, we’re good,” she answered.  She could feel him smile against her neck.  They held each other, thankful that the bump in their friendship was overcome.

Peter decided not to waste any more time.  Be brave, you idiot, he thought.  He nuzzled her neck again, his nose sliding against her jugular, then softly pressed a kiss just below her jaw.  Y/N stiffened against him.  He was afraid of her reaction but she didn’t pull away or question him, so he continued to kiss her, rubbing his hands softly up her back.  As he sucked on the spot below her ear she sighed and shivered.  

“Peter,” she moaned, her nails starting to dig into his back.  He let out his own moan at hearing her say his name like that.  He wanted to hear it again and began to nibble at her earlobe, making her gasp.

“Peter…wait, ungh,” Y/N was struggling to make a coherent thought.  She hadn’t done this in a long time.  Peter stopped but kept himself close.

“Do you want me to stop?” his husky whisper tickled her ear.  She let out a sharp breath.

“No,” she whispered back, her hand slipping up into his hair, pulling back gently for him to look at her.  They breathed heavily, staring at each other for a moment.

“What do you want?” Y/N asked, searching his eyes.  Peter gave her a half smile.

“I want you,” he answered determinedly.  His voice dropped an octave so fast he almost scared himself, but it made Y/N whimper at his tone, and Peter dove in for a kiss to chase the sound.

Y/N kissed him back fervently.  The kiss felt frenzied, as the dam of pent-up sexual tension finally broke.  It was all tongue and teeth, lips smashed together, breaths intertwining, hands gripping and squeezing.  Peter couldn’t believe this was happening.  His hands traveled down until he could cup her butt cheeks, kneading them roughly, squeezing the soft, plushy muscle and pulling her core to his.  She whimpered again, slowly grinding herself into his growing erection.  He moaned loudly as she did, gripping her love handles so hard she knew she’d be bruised in the morning. 

Y/N was so distracted by his lips she didn’t realize Peter had lifted them both off the floor until her back was gently pressed on the bed.  She took the opportunity as they slightly separated to kiss, lick, and suck a trail down his cheek to his neck.  Peter shivered as she nipped just under his jaw, his hands running from her legs to her stomach, pulling at her dress, silently asking permission to pull it up and off of her.  She lifted her hips off of the bed so he could start pulling it up.  After an awkward shifting and wiggling and some giggles, Peter finally got all her clothes off.

Peter ogled at Y/N, completely naked and waiting.  She giggled again at the look on his face, letting her fingers scratch down his chest, making him sputter.

“Fuck, Y/N,” Peter shook, not sure what to do next and needing her to keep scratching him.

“Yes?” Y/N asked coyly, grinning like the Cheshire cat.

“Can I…will you be mine?” Peter settled on that.  His finger brushed along her ribcage mere inches from her breast.  Y/N shivered at the contact.  He was treating her with such tenderness and reverence that it made her skin tingle.

“Yes,” she said definitively.  

Peter’s face lit up, his cheeks hurting with how wide his smile grew.  As he lowered himself over her he felt his cock throb and his face grew serious.  He shut his eyes and sighed out loud.

“What’s wrong?” Y/N asked, confused at his rollercoaster of emotions.

“It’s just, if we do this, start this relationship, I won’t be able to let you go,” Peter said gruffly.  “So are you sure?  Are you mine?”

Y/N felt a flood of emotion coming from him in that question.  It was a loaded question, they both knew it.  She had known for a while now that Peter liked her and wanted her, and despite the hiccup in their relationship, she felt the same towards him.  They had both lost so much, so promising this was a big deal, to not just love but to stay. This was special, she was special to him.  He was asking her to go all in, for as long as she would have him.

Y/N’s eyes brimmed with tears from how emotional it became so quickly.  Peter panicked at the sight but she quickly calmed him, running her finger along the crease between his eyebrows to relieve him.

“Yes,” she whispered, pulling his body flush with hers.  As his naked chest met her breasts he groaned, his head falling to her shoulder.  

“Thank God,” he breathed. 

#marvel #peter parker #peter parker x reader #peter parker fanfiction #smut #oneshot

[popculturelib]

Barbies of the BPCL: Ghanaian Barbie Doll

This Barbie is a collector's edition doll that is part of the Dolls of the World collection from 1996. The official description reads:

Tour the wilds of Africa with this Collector Edition Barbie doll in a traditional costume from the West African country of Ghana. She wears an authentically styled Kente cloth tunic dress that ties into a bow below her knees. A brightly colored turban ties around her head and she wears flat golden sandals for walking through the lush forests. Her beautiful jewelry, including golden hoop earrings, a bangle bracelet and a seashell necklace, all add to the captivating charm of this African beauty.

Check out our other Barbies at #bpcl barbies.

The Browne Popular Culture Library (BPCL), founded in 1969, is the most comprehensive archive of its kind in the United States.  Our focus and mission is to acquire and preserve research materials on American Popular Culture (post 1876) for curricular and research use. Visit our website at https://www.bgsu.edu/library/pcl.html.

#bgsu #bpcl barbies #barbie #barbie dolls #ghanaian barbie #dolls of the world

[keepingeahalive]

Who’s Afraid of the Big Bad Wolf?

They only had one episode together, but I think it’s cute. (No, I am not discrediting Ramonabella.)

WolfDancer

~~~~~

[ID: A full hand-drawing of Justine Dancer and Ramona Badwolf holding a flag.

Ramona is a teenage biracial-Seminole wolf-were girl with light tan skin, long shaggy dark brown hair with long side-swept bangs streaked white and dark pink, sharp yellow slit eyes, brown wolf ears, dark pink eyeshadow, sharp fangs, and claws on her hands. She is wearing a dark blue top with elbow-length sleeves; a fur shoulder pad on her left shoulder decorated with golden chains; a red flannel overskirt with red-brown suspenders held by gold clasps; baggy blue-gray leggings; light gray knee-height platform boots wrapped in brown leather ribbons, gray fur attached to the back, and gold heels; a wide, ornate gold necklace decorated with spikes and a gold wolf's head; a spiky gold head plate; and three gold bracelets on her right arm: one thick and spiky, one thinner with studs, and one a simple gold bangle.

Justine is a teenage girl of African descent with dark mocha skin, long curly dark brown hair, and gold eyeshadow. She is wearing a bright yellow tutu dress with yellow straps; long, puffy see-through sleeves with red-pink armbands; dark yellow accents on the bodice and skirt; pink crisscross strands on the skirt; a metal-plated corset with a heart in the center; silver, ornate, open-toed, high heeled shoes; a pearl necklace; and a large silver tiara with two thin prongs and three purple gems.

Ramona holds her side of the flag with her right hand, pinning it to a "wall" with her claws. She leans towards Justine with a sly expression. Her left hand is closer to Justine, her middle finger and thumb coming together to show over her claws. Justine holds her end of the flag with her left hand, her right hand over her chest. She leans away slightly with her eyes closed and a large smile on her face, as if she is laughing.

Ramona's half of the flag is the polysexual flag. Justine's half of the flag is the asexual flag; the heart on her belt depicts the bisexual flag. END ID.]

#eah #ever after high #ever after high headcanons #ramona badwolf #eah Ramona #justine dancer #eah justine #wolfdancer #lgbtq pride #lgbtq #pride month #sorry this was late #in the process of making more

[thepastisalreadywritten]

It was bound to happen sooner or later: a guest on the BBC’s Antiques Roadshow presented an artefact, which derived from the slave trade – an ivory bangle.

One of the programme’s experts, Ronnie Archer-Morgan, himself a descendant of slaves, said that it was a striking historical artefact but not one that he was willing to value.

‘I do not want to put a price on something that signifies such an awful business,’ he said.

It’s easy to understand how he feels. The idea of people profiting from the artefacts left over from slavery is distasteful.

Yet, as Archer-Morgan said, it is not that the bangle has no value: it has great educational value.

It should be bought by a museum and displayed in order to demonstrate the complex nature of slavery and as a corrective to the narrative that slavery was purely a crime committed by Europeans against Africans.

The bangle was, it seems, once in the possession of a Nigerian slaver who was trading in other Africans.

It’s a reminder that slavery was rife in Africa long before colonial government.

It could also remind us that, though slavery was a global institution, the country that led the world in the rebellion against this barbarism – and played a bigger role than perhaps anyone else in its eradication – was the United Kingdom.

Britain did not invent slavery.

Slaves were kept in Egypt since at least the Old Kingdom period and in China from at least the 7th century AD, followed by Japan and Korea.

It was part of the Islamic world from its beginnings in the 7th century.

Native tribes in North America practised slavery, as did the Aztecs and Incas farther south.

African traders supplied slaves to the Roman empire and to the Arab world. Scottish clan chiefs sold their men to traders.

Barbary pirates from north Africa practised the trade too, seizing around a million white Europeans – including some from Cornish villages – between the 16th and 18th centuries.

It was in fear of such pirates that the song ‘Rule Britannia’ was written: hence the line that ‘Britons never ever ever shall be slaves.’

Even slaves who escaped their masters in the Caribbean went on to take their own slaves.

The most concerted campaign against all this was started by Christian groups in London in the 1770s who eventually recruited William Wilberforce to their campaign, and parliament went on to outlaw the slave trade in 1807.

British sea power was then deployed to stamp it out.

The largely successful British effort to eradicate the transatlantic slave trade did not grow out of any kind of self-interest.

It was driven by moral imperative and at considerable cost to Britain and the Empire.

At its peak, Britain’s battle against the slave trade involved 36 naval ships and cost some 2,000 British lives.

In 1845, the Aberdeen Act expanded the Navy’s mission to intercept Brazilian ships suspected of carrying slaves.

Much is made about how Britain profited from the slave trade, but we tend not to hear about the extraordinary cost of fighting it.

In a 1999 paper, US historians Chaim Kaufmann and Robert Pape estimated that, taking into account the loss of business and trade, suppression of the slave trade cost Britain 1.8 per cent of GDP between 1808 and 1867.

It was, they said, the most expensive piece of moral action in modern history.

The cost of fighting the slave trade cancelled out much, if not all of Britain’s profits from it over the previous century.

There are those who continue to demand reparations for slavery from the UK government and other western powers, yet they rarely, if ever, acknowledge Britain’s role in all but eradicating the evil of the transatlantic slave trade, a cause on which we spent the equivalent of £1.5 billion a year for half a century.

Britain’s role in hastening slavery’s extinction is a remarkable achievement.

It’s astonishing that we have forgotten it almost entirely in the 21st century.

It would be difficult to find anyone in the world whose ancestral tree does not somewhere extend back to a slave-trader.

Huge numbers of us, too, will have been partly descended from slaves.

Britain should not minimise or deny the extent to which it traded slaves to the colonies in the early days of Empire.

But it is also important to remember the thousands who served and died with the West Africa Squadron while seizing 1,600 slave ships and freeing some 150,000 Africans.

We must examine and remember everything about the history of the slave trade, including the forces – moral and military – that eventually brought it to an end.

It’s profoundly worrying that slavery evolved to be a near-universal phenomenon among human societies and inspiring that it came to be all but eradicated within a single human lifespan.

#Britain #slave trade #Antiques Roadshow #Ronnie Archer-Morgan #ivory bangle #artefacts #Rule Britannia #William Wilberforce #Aberdeen Act #slavery #suppression of slave trade #moral action #transatlantic slave trade #BBC

[hayaomiyazaki]

Je tends les bras (1931 or 1932) gelatin silver print on paper Claude Cahun

I Extend My Arms is a black and white photograph showing a dramatically gesturing pair of arms apparently emerging from inside a stone monolith. A tanned female left arm, ornamented with three beaded wooden bangles on its wrist, extends from out of a large hole in the lichen-covered stone. Its partner – wearing a ring on its little finger – emerges from the other side of the monolith, which is of similar dimensions to a human body. A section of low wall made of similar lumps of stone and cement extends towards the foreground of the image. An old iron fixing sticking up from the wall below the hole suggests that it was drilled to fit elements of a gate or other similar structure, supported by the monolith and wall. The owner of the arms is standing behind the monolith so that her body is completely concealed; this creates the illusion that she is inside the stone or has somehow become fused with it. The simple upright block-like form, softened by many years of weathering, is tightly cropped into the picture frame. Brightly lit by full sun, it stands out starkly against a sepia-coloured blue sky. As the work’s title indicates, the arms extend outwards with spread fingers as though they are reaching out for something – possibly attempting to grasp or embrace somebody. There are three known variations of this image (reproduced Downie, p.178): two photographed from similar angles showing the arms in different positions and a third viewed from a different perspective in which only one arm is visible. In an image titled Combat de pierres (Battle of the Stones), 1931 (private collection, Paris) Cahun used Tate’s version of the image in a double exposure with one of the other variations reversed, so that the two versions of the figure appear to be attempting to grasp one another. In all three images, the arms are held in stiff positions, either bent at the elbow or stretched out straight, palms facing or turned away from the shutter so that the splayed fingers are always displayed in full. The effect is comic, recalling slapstick gestures in early film. While the monolith has an inevitably phallic form, the arms with their ornamentation are feminine, defying a single-gendered reading of the image. The beaded bangles with their African and Oceanic resonances represent a form of exoticism that relates to primitivism which the totemic simplicity of the image also evokes. As a reflection of the interest invested by the Surrealists in the ‘primitive’, ritual objects including Eskimo masks and Amerindian mummified heads were included among other ethnic artefacts listed in the exhibition catalogue for the Exposition surréaliste d’objets at Galerie Charles Ratton in Paris in May 1936, in which Cahun participated with objects of her own making. In I Extend My Arms, the ancient rock evokes the chthonic, essential, primal non-gendered self that Cahun’s many self portrait images express, particularly an image from 1928 which shows her back and profile, her head shaven but her eyes and lips made up, combining a non-gendered human form (the head reduced to its bare structure) with the clichéd feminine masquerade. At the same time it links with the notion of masks and death evoked in the artist’s photograph Crystal Heads, 1936 (P79321), taken at the British Museum. — Elizabeth Manchester, January 2008

#art #art op #op

[jrheatriz]

(Okay so I know I’m terrible at actually responding to your answers to these, but just know I really do enjoy reading them!!)

I know you make a lot of Pinterest boards, and often post pictures saying stuff like “The people from [one of your stories’ worlds/countries/etc] would wear this” do you have any place’s traditional/current popular fashion style mapped out in your head any? Also given any thought to hairstyles or jewelry maybe? 👀

OMG HIIIIIII I CAN'T BELIEVE I MISSED THIS! :O

And yes, i absolutely have specific ideas for AWIA stuff especially, just bc the different styles is important for worldbuilding and character design especially. for instance:

ANDANTHE

Andanthe's clothing is largely inspired by South Asian (and sometimes Middle Eastern) fashion, particularly in places like India, Pakistan, Palestine, et cetera, but with a minor twist bc andanthe is set in a more deciduous, foresty-new-england type area. Andanthe's national color is vivid green, so Andanthian royalty in particular wear a lot of green, which can be dyed with dandelions and other natural dyeing materials (and gold is prevalent too, bc well. royalty.)

So what i mean when i say Andanthian fashion is South Asian inspired is the emphasis on flow, layered fabric, and printed patterns-- e.g., this goooooorgeous look from Vogue India fashion week (2016)-- the nice, rustic yet earthy color tones, the regality of the fabric and its swish, the way the outer covering of the garment alludes to a sari and really shows off detailed patterning in terms of print. so yummy.

(Small note tho, it's important that Andanthe has quite lush and vibrant use of color in their fashion, because the kingdom of ilwich also has a thing for green.)

keep in mind though that despite this, Andanthian fashion is also a bit... utilitarian. there's the natural form and silhouette of the fabric, but there's also the sharper edges that leave little show of frivolousness. the high, conservative yet elaborate collar, the nice fancy but straightforward belt. like it's pretty, but it's cool. and especially for characters like morgan, who prefers more masculine clothing to anything else, this kind of rigidity benefits her style. like "yeah bitch, we could totally beat your ass in battle. but also we got that shit on." see below for reference example.

THE ANWHINES

Okay so one thing about the anwhines is that like andanthe they like straight lines and silhouettes that have a little flow, but unlike andanthe, they don't prioritize layering lavish fabric. they do absolutely love working with geometric shapes. see below: the lovely rectangular box of the overcoat and the linear shape created by the straight dress. another BIG important thing is bold geometric patterns-- because as you can probably guess, alot of the Anwhine inspiration comes from West African culture and Caribbean culture. it's no less intricate than andanthe's, but definitely less dainty. also very yummy.

Another important thing to know about the anwhines is that their national color is blue. there's the nice, easy-going cerulean blue that alludes to their lovely and idyllic oceans, but also a dark and no-nonsense navy blue usually worn by royalty. white accents, like cotton/linen lace or collaring, is also common.

there is also an important accent of white pearl and shell used in their fashion, because well. why wouldn't you make shell and pearl jewelry if you're a nation comprised of isles floating around in the sea? it's too easy. they don't mind gold bangles or wooden hair accessories either tho. Also, clay, because clay beads are fun! and because i love Black hair and all the pretty stuff you can do with it, having pretty jewelry in your hair is heavily important. see below for examples.

MONERVA

okay, i'll be honest, monerva's cultural fashion is a lot less real-world specific and a bit more eclectic. it's for a reason, tho; i mean, neither andanthe or the anwhines are homogenous cultures by any means, but monerva is very forward thinking and focused on trendiness and innovations. which means they do whatever the fuck they want and can be inspired by any number of cultures, because it depends on personal style. monervians in general are very focused on looking cunt and showing off. as they should!! so if you're planning on inviting a monervian to your party, expect them to show up to the function in some shit like this.

monervians looooove lace, linen, and the very regal yet soft white that those materials bring to the table. they love frills, folds, ruffles, and massive silhouettes--and extra points are given if it's constructed in a way no one's ever thought of before. in terms of colors, monervians love light and frivolous pastels (pinks, lavenders, blues). they live in what you might traditionally imagine a fairy kingdom to reside--that is to say, a lavish and disorienting colorful forest glade-- so they use flower and plant-based dyes and incorporate flowery embroidery int their lacing and patterning (see below). unlike the last two kingdoms, there's less of an emphasis on printed patterns on clothes unless it's a personal style thing. and in terms of jewelry, they love precious stones, crystals, and mineral pieces. bonus points if they're shiny and a little gaudy.

ILWICH

Out of all the kingdoms in this story, (there are more than 4, i'm just too lazy to put them here) Ilwich is the one that looks the most medieval like. I mean, the world of awia is a little anachronistic because fuck it i do what i want, but the idea is that the aesthetic dances loosely with medieval era technology, foods, clothing. ilwich though, is the most closely tied to that medieval eastern europe aesthetic. they, as i mentioned earlier, have a penchant for green like andanthe, but because ilwich is located in marshy wetlands and deep underground castles carved near and underneath mangrove-like trees, their colors reflect the more dull nature of their surroundings.

Another important thing about ilwich-- they are a culture that is very closely tied to the worship and mythos of the old dead gods. i might have mentioned that the pantheon that existed before the concrete memory of fairies had ever been formed kinda cannibalized each other to extinction. the link between the gods and fairies is caput. Mostly. but some remnants of the old religion remain, and many of it is guarded by ilwich acolytes that chill around in the catacombs. to reflect this, ilwich garb happens to be more simple and more pious: simple linen or wool fabrics, with little excess or bright, printed fabric. don't mistake less simple with boring, though; what they lack in pattern and emroidery, they make up for in layering. due to it's marshy background, ilwich loves dark greens and blacks, dull sages, rustic browns, and dusty off whites. However, some nobility/royalty add a bit more flair; case in point:

like monerva, they like using nature-y elements in clothes, but rather than mimicking bright, lush flowers, ilwich mimics decaying leaves, cobwebs, and dark moss. cosmo sheldrake would love these weirdos.

and another thing: because the marshlands are typically chilly and much of ilwich is underground, ilwich fashion includes many layers and furs. Again, a lot of browns and off white furs are preferred.

Anyways! rant over. hope that answered some of your questions :D

#jrheatriz.ocs #jrheatriz.awia #oc rant #worldbuilding #long post

[divineisaneternallover]

some of the jewellery on the wish-list

Fishbone - By Pariah Charan Bangle - Daphine African Queen - Elizabeth Gage Guitar Pick -Sorellina Hand Ring - Yeprem Ceramic Ring - Shay

[open-your-heart-and-your-eyes]

BIPOC PEOPLE IN THE ROCK MUSIC INDUSTRY

Post inspired by, and is an extension of this lovely post about POC emo icons by @rpf-bat. If I get anything wrong, please feel free to correct me. I’m going to try to keep the bios relatively short and sweet so I don’t write an entire essay. All my information was found from Google/Spotify search results or my pre-existing knowledge. Feel free to DM me for specific sources. Fair Use for educational purposes, no copywright infringement intended.

Acrassicauda: Iraqi metal band from Baghdad. Andy Capper and Gabi Sifre wrote Heavy Metal in Baghdad: The Story of Acrassicauda about the band’s formation and their fight to be able to play the music they love.

Booboo Stewart (Vic Lakota from The Relentless in Paradise City and American Satan, Seth Clearwater from The Twilight Saga: Eclipse, Jay from Disney’s Descendants, among many others): Blackfoot, Korean, Chinese, and Japanese.

Tom Morello (Rage Against The Machine, Audioslave, The Nightwatchman): biracial- Kenyan and white (quick side note: Morello has a bachelor’s degree in political science from Harvard, which I thought was really cool).

The HU: Mongolian metal band. They’ve worked with the likes of Jacoby Shaddix of Papa Roach (The Wolf’s Totem), Lzzy Hale of Halestorm (Song of Women), and Danny Case of From Ashes to New (Yuve Yuve Yu).

Jose “The Metal Ambassador” Mangin (radio personality/host and interviewer, Sirius XM): Mexican-American. Is often hosting on Sirius XM Octane and Liquid Metal.

Meet Me @ The Altar: Pop punk trio made up entirely of BIPOC musicians Edith Johnson (Black), Téa Campbell (Black), and Ada Juarez (Latinx). Three of their popular songs are Hit Like a Girl, Feel a Thing, and Garden.

Nandi Bushell: Zulu and white. The twelve year-old drummer has collaborated with Roman Morello, Tom Morello, Jack Black, and Greta Thunberg on Roman’s song The Children Will Rise Up! She has also played with the likes of Dave Grohl of Foo Fighters, Roger Taylor of Queen, Ringo Starr of The Beatles, and Matt Helders of The Arctic Monkeys (and likely more that I’m missing).

Joe Hahn (Linkin Park, Mr. Hahn): Korean-American. The man behind the band’s turntables and keyboard. Linkin Park’s Cure for The Itch on their album Hybrid Theory (2000) specifically highlights Hahn on the turntables within the first minute.

Ayron Jones: African-American. Jones is gaining traction in the scene. Two songs of his I’d like to note are Spinning Circles and Mercy from his 2021 album Child of the State. He has toured with the likes of Shinedown (and makes a hilarious feature in one of the band’s Tiktoks) and will tour with The Pretty Reckless and Black Stone Cherry this year.

BIPOC ICONS

Chuck Berry (The Chuck Berry Trio, Sir John’s Trio) Black. Widely successful, influential singer and guitarist known for Johnny B. Goode, You Can Never Tell, and No Particular Place To Go. Berry’s legacy is still deeply felt in his contemporaries today.

Prince (Prince and The Revolution, “The Artist Formerly Known as Prince,” 3rdeyegirl, Madhouse, 94 East, The Family) Black. Groundbreaking, inventive, and androgynous artist known for hits like When Doves Cry and Purple Rain. Prince has also written songs for others like Sinead O’Connor (Nothing Compares 2 U) and The Bangles (Manic Monday).

Jimi Hendrix (The Jimi Hendrix Experience, Band of Gypsys, Kings of Rhythm, Jimmy James and The Blue Frames): Black and Cherokee. Acknowledged by many to be one of the greatest (if not the greatest) guitarists of all time.

Slash (Guns N’ Roses, Velvet Revolver, Spinal Tap, Road Crew, and entirely too many others to list): biracial- Nigerian and white. He’s the guitarist for Guns N Roses, whose hits include (but are not limited to) Welcome to The Jungle and Sweet Child O’ Mine. He joined his bandmates of Guns N’ Roses Duff McKagan and Matt Sorum in the early 2000s to form Velvet Revolver, recruiting Scott Weiland of Stone Temple Pilots for vocals. He continues to release music, especially with Myles Kennedy of Myles Kennedy and the Conspirators and Alter Bridge (see Driving Rain).

Robert Trujilo (Metallica, Suicidal Tendencies, Mass Mental, Infectious Grooves): Mexican and unspecified Native American descent. Trujilo replaced Jason Newsted as guitarist for Metallica, starting as a full time recording member with St. Anger (2003).

Carlos Santana (Santana): Mexican-born Latinx. A legendary guitarist, Santana’s song Smooth featuring Matchbox Twenty’s Rob Thomas is still an incredibly popular hit to this day. A prolific part of the song is Santana’s guitar work at the beginning of and throughout the song. The riff is considered to rather iconic to rock music as a genre.

Freddie Mercury (Queen): Indian Parsi, born in Zanzibar. Mercury is also considered to be an LGBTQIA+ icon by many. He was a groundbreaking and charismatic performer (not to mention his prolific appearance and fashion). His absolute powerhouse of a voice behind Queen’s innumerable hits like Bohemian Rhapsody, We Will Rock You, and We Are The Champions earned Mercury a deity-like status in both the music industry and pop culture as a whole. He continues to influence and inspire many in the decades since his death.

To all my BIPOC beauties/handsome people:

You exist in this industry. You belong. Do not let anyone in this scene erase or invalidate you.

#rock and roll #rock music #bipoc #bipoc representation #bipocartists #modern rock #metal #hard rock #queen #freddie mercury #carlos santana #santana #metallica #guns n roses #jimi hendrix #chuck berry #ayron jones #linkin park #nandi bushell #meet me at the altar #the HU #sirius xm #tom morello #rage against the machine #audioslave #american satan #paradise city #acrassicauda #poc #people of color

[timelessfineries]

Bracelet africain zoulou rouge et multicolore ::: Timeless Fineries

#bijou africain #bracelet africain #bijou rouge #bracelet rouge #timeless fineries #bijou zoulou #bracelet traditionnel #bijou ethnique #bracelet zoulou #mode africaine #bracelet tribal #bijou tubulaire #bracelet ethnique #bijou tribal #bracelet tubulaire #african jewellery #zulu bracelet #ethnic bangle #african bracelet #traditional jewellery #tribal fashion #ethnic jewel #zulu jewellery #ethnic style #red jewelry #exotic jewellery #red bracelet

[xtrablak674]

2022 AfroPunk

PHOTOS BY EMMANUEL AGBEBLE

I was listening to NPR this morning and they had mentioned the AI driven app PimEyes which I had used previously to find photos of myself that are on the internet that I am aware of but don't have copies of. I found about ten more photos from last year's AfroPunk that I attended with my niece on her birthday week. I still marvel at my look which was literally put together right before we left the house that day utilizing things I had purchased just that morning.

[Toe to Head - Dismantle the look]

-Open toe sandals purchased in Jaipur India on a 2007 trip

- Thai fisherman pants made in Nepal bought on Etsy

- African Print corset purchased at L Train Vintage/Brooklyn

-Mud cloth sash purchased in Ghana on my 2011 trip

-Necklace by Alicia P

-Rainbow umbrella purchased that morning at the Brooklyn Museum gift shop

-Queen sunglasses purchased in Bedstuy at Rainbow

-Vintage Indian bangle and silver cuff purchased in India in 2007

-Attitude models own

[Photos by Emmanuel Agbeble]

#emmanuel agbeble #afropunk #pimeyes #2022 #afropunk 2022 #music festival #brooklyn #african style #street fashion #erykah badu #mud cloth #fashionista #personal style #fierce #queer #same gender loving #trans #transgender #umbrella #rainbow flag #black aesthetic #summer #sunglasses

[zaxazoom]

My BBC ghosts ocs!

(In time period order)

Tw: some slight gore description

Pigeon (he/him): A caveman from the ice age, died of hypothermia, probably early 30s, personality akin to a dog, weirdly wise? Autistic, LOVES star constellations and birds, has the power to change temperature of an enclosed space.

Oliver (he/him): Plague doctor from… the plague. Died from… the plague. Died in early 50's, wears plague mask constantly, distant and stoic and often forgotten and excluded.

Catherine "Cath" (she/her): tudor, spanish, mid 40's, slept with someone's husband and the executioner was so bad he cut off her hand by accident before her head, she has the touching power but she has to use her cut off hand like a pencil, snarky

Anton (he/they): georgian shakespeare actor, Died In costume as Antigonous from "a winters tale" and got mauled by a real bear, not the fake one from the play. Pretentious, straight™ (not really) late 20's.

Isabelle (she/her): georgian, mixed race, 19 at age of death, bubbly and fun, died in a massacre and multiple stab wounds to the stomach, emotionally intelligent and caring.

Benjamin (he/him); victorian, mid 50's, heart attack, repressed gay, walking stick (He bats at people with it) judgey, AWFUL at average social interactions.

Theo (he/him): WW1 messenger boy, 22 at age of death, bomb explosion, biromatic, nervous wreck, passes rumors around by accident, if you walk through him it smells like smoke.

Enero "Beetle" (they/them): spanish, grumpy, hates England and was only there to visit family for day of the dead celebrations, simple skeleton day of the dead makeup, autistic, poisoned, 19 at age of death, been wearing a binder for about 80 years (yikes), can make people feel "shivers down their spines" if they touch them.

Jamal "Jam" (he/they): goofy silly guy, died wearing only a tank top, boxers and a load of bracelets and bangles and stuff, fell in a ditch when drunk (sobered up a bit before dying but a teensy bit tipsy still) african-american, welsh, early 30s, internally distraught that he did nothing with his life, hippy(?).

I don't have any specific ocs who own the house it's sort of just me and my irl friend right now.

If you have any questions, please ask, I'd be delighted to answer!

#They're my silly little guys! #ive had them for a while but I really wanted to share #bbc ghosts #bbc ghosts ocs #my ocs #ghosts oc #historical ocs