american wanderer

Native American Alien

@ominous-taptap asked:

I’m writing a story about an alien who was raised on earth. He takes part of the DNA of the first person he touches, and is later raised by that woman and her husband. I was thinking of making him and his family Native American, but I was wandering if this was offensive since he’d be raised into the culture, though he’s not actually part of it. Can you offer any advice? (Also if you got this twice, sorry. People don’t seem to be getting my asks lately so I sent it twice in case. Sorry.)

No worries about sending it twice! (For the record, we only got it once)

Culture-wise, it depends on whether or not the tribe these people are part of have adoption rituals. Many tribes do allow adoption, and many tribes don’t. If the family is part of the former group, then an outsider being raised within the culture isn’t that big an issue. You’d have to look up individual tribes to see how they handle adoptees to know how this alien would be treated; you could find out However, I’m a little uncomfortable with the idea of Native Americans in North America being “alien”, because a lot of sci fi colonization stories are based on the colonialism of Native peoples. 

Just knowing that history makes me tilt my head because it feels slightly odd that the traditional colonizer is going with the traditional colonized.There’s just something Off about it I’m not sure how to express, and I think it depends on the progression of your plot. If you’re going to have this continue where aliens take over earth, then this can either end up as a bit of a fantasy for Natives (winning back lands) or it can be yet another colonization story (if they’re enslaved, too).I think part of it also might be “not actually part of it”, because, as I said earlier, people who are adopted into Native culture are considered Native by the tribe. 

The fact the character is an alien wouldn’t matter, and you’re imposing an Otherness that plain old wouldn’t have existed. So as long as you pick a nation that allows adoption, have him be a part of the tribe, and not eventually take them over (to avoid colonization narratives), you should be fine.

~Mod Lesya

The Feminomicon

The Feminomicon is an artistic guidebook chronicling mythical women from around the world, written and illustrated in the style of the legendary Lovecraftian tome. It was successfully funded on Kickstarter and shipping soon!
What better way to show appreciation for my wonderful backers than a gallery of finished art!

The goddess of guidance, crossroads, and magical arts, Hecate offers directions through life and darkness to those who beseech her. Regarded as the ruler of three paths, she is believed to hold dominion over all three mortal kingdoms; the earth, the sea, and the sky.

For the island inhabitants of the Philippines, nothing is more terrifying than the shape-shifting goul known as the Aswang. Every night the Aswang sheds its human disguise and sprints out into the night in search of easy prey. These predatory women may adopt many forms, but can always be identified by the soft “tik tik” noises produced as they approach their victim.

La Llorona -
A Weeping South American ghost Wandering the Earth for eternity, the La Llorona appears as a tall, ethereal, crying Woman dressed in White. She is a specter of motherhood, fury, loss, and revenge. The Wailing of the La Llorona brings misfortune and doom down upon those who hear her.

Pata Sola-

Deep in the South American jungles, dwells the one legged shape-shifting vampire Pata Sola. She is a dark protector of the forest, confusing and manipulating those Who enter her domain to prevent their return. The Patasola comes to loggers, herdsmen, miners and other men Who Work in and around forests and jungles. She appears when their minds Wanders to sex, and Will often adopt the likeness of a loved one or a beautiful Woman to lure them away from their work.


Through the dark forests of Northern Europe, Ajatar brings pestilence and death to all who cross her terrible path. She is the great serpent, feeder on the sick and the Weak, a powerful spirit known as the “Devil of the Woods”.

Futa Kuchi Onna-
This terrifying Japanese yokai emerges from the hunger and dissatisfaction of repressed young women. A human girl becomes and Futa kuchi Onna when a slobbering, whining, ever-dissatisfied mouth emerges tumor-like from the back of her skull. This mouth is hidden beneath her hair, out of view from anyone else, but capable of exerting some control over its host though constant sinister whispering and begging.

Known as the Obsidian-Butterfly, Itzpapalotl is a skull-faced warrior goddess of flint knives and sacrifice in the Aztec mythology. She leads the Tzitzimime, an army of female star-demons that dwell in darkness and plot to overwhelm and consume all of humankind.

Black Annis-
A Carnivorous crone from the English countryside, Black Annis is emaciated and blue faced with sharp yellow teeth, iron talons, long black hair, and an unquenchable appetite for human flesh. She dwells in  a cave in the Dane Hills which she gouged into the stone with her own clawed hands. The cave front is guarded by an ancient oak tree draped in the tattered skins of her victims.

In the isolated mountain villages of Japan, these massive spider-like creatures Weave powerful illusions to stalk, seduce, and consume helpless human prey. Like many Japanese creatures, Jorogumo begin their lives as ordinary animals and naturally acquire power and intelligence as they grow older. It is thought that When a Japanese orb-Weaver reaches four hundred years of age it swells to the size of a horse and gains the power to shift shape and influence perception.

Keres are vultures of the spirit realm, embodying violent death on the battlefield, disease, and suffering. Wherever mass death or devastation occurs Keres will swarm and feed.

Baba Yaga-
From the dark winter wilds come stories of Baba Yaga, the great bone mother, a ferocious Russian witch in control of powerful magics. Baba Yaga is a knobby kneed hag-like elderly woman with a long nose and wild eyes. Her appearance is hideous, but nothing compared the putrid stench she gives off as she moves. It is said that by merely passing over a household her smell can curdle milk, poison animals, and induce sickness.

Greek creatures of such potent reputation that their name is synonymous With seduction, Sirens call sailors to their doom from their ever-expanding island of bones.

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I’m Black. I’m American. I’m a woman.
However, I am Black, first. Black first because it is something that I cannot hide. It is something that no matter how great my dialect is, no matter how straight I make my hair, and no matter how many degrees I have, it is something that will always be seen first. Black will always be a reference point for who I am supposed to be versus who I really am. It will always be a reference point for the attitude that I’m supposed to carry, the name that I’m supposed to have, and the neighborhood that I’m supposed to live in….
—  A Girl with Melanin

jfc i just spent the last 48 hours straight, asleep and awake, with my four american and german roommates, wandering the souks and alleys, and then randomly took a bus to essaioura on the coast to splash around on the other side of the atlantic and wander the old city streets (and take like 2092404 photos). three of them are going to the sahara tomorrow morning and the other is going to madrid; i did not know these people existed before thursday and i am so sad they’re leaving. hostels are weird.


Jack Kerouac with the finished The Dharma Bums….typed out on taped together paper….1957…….“ the whole world full of rucksack wanderers, Dharma bums refusing to subscribe to the general demand that they consume production and therefor have to work for the privilege of consuming all that crap that they didn’t want anyway….I see a vision of a great rucksack revolution thousands or even millions of young americans wandering around with rucksacks, going up to mountains to pray, making children laugh and old men glad, making young girls happy and old girls happier, all of ‘em Zen lunatics who go about writing poems…” Like lots of gay guys before me I wanted to be Japhy Ryder, or at least be his boyfriend….. …….published 1958

Request: Moving In

I hope this is up to your standards anon! I know the lyrics to the song, I just didn’t wanna put it all in :)

Setting down the last of the boxes, Mark let out a huffed sigh and ran his hands through his hair, grimacing though when he realised how soaked it was with sweat. “Well, that’s it. We’re officially moved it!”

Jack let out a little yell of triumph and collapsed on the sofa, it wasn’t in the right place but they were honestly too lazy to go moving around furniture yet. “Um, shift your ass McLoughlin, we’ve still got stuff to unpack” There was a long groan as he watched Jack slide off of the sofa and onto the floor.

“But am so tirrrreeeed”

The American laughed and wandered over to his boyfriend, putting his foot on his belly and pushing down to make him yelp, Jack responding by punching his leg. “I don’t care, I wanna sleep easy knowing that we unpacked everything we need tonight. So move!”

Kicks him gently in the side causing Jack to grunt and ever so slowly stand up, arms folded tight across his chest like a grumpy toddler. “The more ya pout, the longer its gonna take Jack!” Mark found the radio in the kitchen, shifting through the music channels until he found one he liked and allowed the music to blast through the apartment.

Deciding to be silly, Mark began to dance through the hallways as he sung along to the music. If this was going to be a tedious process, he might as well make it fun. He grabbed one of the boxes and waltzed upstairs to the main bedroom, placing it on the bed and beginning to search through it as he still swung his hips.

“It’s a beautiful night, we’re looking for something dumb to do. Hey baby, I think I wanna marry you”

Mark danced over to the small bedside table and began to fill it with their things, still singing along to himself as he did so. He wasn’t much for singing these kind of songs but whenever he got the opportunity, he did it in his stride.

“Is it the look in your eyes, Or is it this dancing juice? Who cares baby, I think I wanna marry you”

He carried on doing this, singing the song to himself while putting away their items all around the bedroom. It became apparent he wasn’t very aware that of how loud he was singing and what happened next, had him nearly shitting in his pants.

“Cause it’s a beautiful night, we’re looking for something dumb to do. Hey baby, I th–”

“I think I wanna marry you!”

Out of nowhere, Jack came crashing into the bedroom, shrieking his lungs out as he too sung along to the song playing on the radio. Mark began to laugh, holding his chest since his boyfriend had happened to give him a fright.

“What?” The Irishman asked, also laughing since he found Mark’s amusement funny. Mark took a moment to regain his breath, walking over to Jack and wrapping his arms around him, pulling him flush against his body as he smirked at him.

“Is it the look in your eyes, Or is it this dancing juice? Who cares baby, I think I wanna marry you”

Jack stared down at the ground, his cheeks flushed as it became apparent that Mark was serenading him with this dumb song. He couldn’t help but giggle at him, leaning upward to press a chaste kiss on his lover’s lips, arms coming to wrap themselves around Mark’s neck.

“It’s a beautiful night, we’re looking for something dumb to do..” The Irishman sung, his hands running through Mark’s hair as he smiled sweetly up at him. “..Hey baby, I think I wanna marry you”

The older man let out a soft chuckle and kissed Jack again, this time much more passionately, feeling Jack melt in his arms.

“…I think I wanna marry you”