#brazilian pulp

[kekwcomics]

SPEKTRO #15 (Editora Vecchi, 1980)

Art: Ofeliano de Almeida

Loving the colour scheme / tinting on this. Nice 'n' lurid!

[maxwell-grant]

I’ve noticed once or twice among the pulp hero’s a dude with a crystal ball mysterio helmet in a dark suit. I can’t help but notice that what the Orb look is baller, it’s really distinct from other pulp characters he’s getting grouped with. What’s this guys deal and why is he so different from other pulp dudes?

(Meme on the left by Questionposting)

Ethel Knapp, twenty, stood in her furnished room and peered at the gas jet. For ten minutes she had been peering at it, trying to summon the courage necessary to turn it on—without a lighted match above it. She had no money. She had come to Great City from her home in Ohio to work. She had no work. She had no way of returning to her mother and father. But she did have a way of saving herself from further hunger and humiliation. 

The gas jet.

She raised her hand toward it. Startled, she paused. A faint rustling sound came into the room. Looking down, she saw an envelope creeping under the door. She took it up, bewildered, and opened it. Inside lay money— currency held together by a band of silver paper—banknotes totalling $200!

“I can’t bear to see suffering, Angel. I can no more help trying to alleviate it than I can help breathing. If there were any other way of taking money from those who hoard it, and giving it to those who desperately need it—if there were any other way than stealing, I’d take that way. But there isn’t.” - The Sinister Sphere

This is The Moon Man. Moon Man was created by C. Frederick Davies and appeared in 38 stories from 1933 to 1937 and was a cross between The Shadow and Robin Hood, a black-clad urban avenger with a unique costume who stole from the rich to provide for the poor and was viciously hunted by law enforcement and the criminal underworld for it, not helped by the fact that his true identity is that of Stephen Tatcher, the 25-year-old police sergeant and son of the police chief, engaged to the daughter of his worst enemy, a lieutenant constantly trying to get Moon Man in the electric chair.

There's three main things that set The Moon Man apart from the other costumed pulp heroes and Shadow imitators from his day: Number one is that, despite looking a lot like Mysterio, he actually had much more in common with Spider-Man than even The Spider himself, in that he was mostly an ordinary schlub driven to help others who had to constantly pull off precarious balancing acts to keep his job and his secret and his life. 2nd being that he is a far more socially conscious character than pretty much all of his contemporaries, dealing with economic inequality, white collar crime, and grey areas where business practices and law enforcement intermingle with criminality to trample the lower class. He's a Depression-era Robin Hood and the stories are dead serious about it.

And third is that The Moon Man is no gentleman thief or dark avenger: He does none of this for the sake of personal fulfillment or revenge, he isn't tabling fights with gangsters to occasionally do an afterschool special or make a half-hearted gesture at social commentary, this is just what he does as a baseline. He is far less preoccupied with fighting crime than he is saving people in bad circumstances, and the stories are highly preoccupied with the people he saves, and the circumstances that The Moon Man is saving them from. For a weird guy in a creepy mask who goes around in a black coat with a gun in hand, he's an unexpectadly compassionate and soft-hearted (even mopey at times) character.

A chuckle came from the silver‐headed man. “You’ve distributed the money, Angel?”

“Yeah. Got it out right away. And it certainly was badly needed, boss.”

“I know… You realize why I selected Martin Richmond as a victim, Angel?”

“I’ve got an idea he ain’t all he seems to be.”

“Not quite that,” answered the voice that came from the silver head. “He’s quite respectable, you know. Social position, wealth, all that. But there’s one thing I don’t like about him, Angel. He’s made millions by playing the market short, forcing prices down.”

“Nothin’ wrong in that, is there?”, Dargan asked.

“Not according to our standards, Angel; but the fact remains that short‐selling had contributed to the suffering of those we are trying to help. I’ve taken little enough from Richmond’s kind, Angel. I must have more— later."

Dargan peered. “I don’t quite get you, boss. You’re takin’ an awful chance—and you don’t keep any of the money for yourself.”

A chuckle came from the silver globe. “I don’t want the money for myself. I want it for those who are perishing for want of the barest necessities of life. What would you do if you saw a child about to be crushed under a truck? You’d snatch her away, even at the risk of your own life."

“Don’t think I’m questioning you, boss.” Dargan hastened to explain. “I’m with you all the way, and you know it"

"Yes, Angel,” said the Moon Man gently, “I know it. You’re the only man in the world I trust. You know what it is to suffer; that’s why you’re with me”.

The Moon Man lacked much in terms of budget or resources, partially because all of his money went to people in need, and he was under constant threat from the law and underworld alike, each more bloodthirsty than the other in how badly they wanted to mount his Argus helmet on a platter (he didn't even make the helmet himself, he mail-ordered it under his detective arch-enemy’s name). His father is a police chief with a weak heart, which adds an extra pressure to Stephen's secret in that it being revealed will not only lead to his father being fired, but likely dying from shock.

He picks hide-outs with creaky stairs as his main line of defense against intruders, his only line of defense is a gun, he pined over the love of a stubborn lady who initially detested his alter-ego, but eventually learned his secret and grew into a stronger person and even partner as they got engaged. And he only has one other ally he can trust:

He’d gone bad in the ring. A weakened arm made further fighting impossible. He found it just as impossible to find work. He’d drifted downward and outward; he’d become a bum, sleeping in alleys, begging food. Until, mysteriously a message had come to him from the Moon Man. 

Some day Ned Dargan was going to fight again. Some day he was going to get into the ring, knock some palooka for a row, and become champ. And if he ever did, he’d have the Moon Man to thank for it…

His main sidekick from the start, scarred ex-boxer Ned Dargan, was rescued by Moon Man from homelessness and starvation, and he was frequently named “Angel” as it was Dargan’s job to distribute the money, the narrative often filling the reader on the background of the recipients to make them not just anonymous victims, but real people with problems readers in the Depression era would have likely identified with. When we first meet them, Dargan tells him about a steamfitter with a sick daughter who needs money to pay for his kid's treatment, and a pair of kids with a recently deceased mother whose uncles can't afford to take them in and who will go to an orphanage without help, and The Moon Man promises money for all of them.

The main issue with the stories is that they do get a bit repetitive, but they're also fairly short and quick to read, and the strength of the concept, the assertive characters, the compassion, and the class dynamics that usually remain subtext in these kinds of stories, here becomes much of the text itself.

The Moon Man had a remarkable amount of continuity and consistency for a pulp hero, and only picked up more and more enemies that would constantly frame and target him with no additional allies. In fact, circa the end of the run, both his fiancé Sue as well as Angel are well acquainted with the Moon Man’s secret identity by this point and constantly beg Stephen Thatcher to give up his double life, warning him of increasing danger from both the cops and the mob, and in the last story, Blackjack Jury, he's pressured to give up his identity for good by the two and by how precariously his father's job hangs on him being able to capture Moon Man. The story and the character's run ends without revealing what decision he took.

Steve Thatcher lowered his head as though stubbornly to butt an obstacle. A wild scheme— his! He knew it. But, also, he knew the world— cruel and relentless—and he could not stand by and do nothing to save those who were suffering. The mere thought of letting others perish, while nothing was done to save them, was unendurable.

Beyond the written law was a higher one to which Steve Thatcher had dedicated himself—the law of humanity.

And if he were caught? Would he find leniency at the hands of Gil McEwen and Chief Thatcher? No. He was certain of that. Even if McEwen and the chief might wish to deal kindly with him, they would be unable to. The Moon Man now was a public enemy—his fate was in the hands of the multitude. Steve Thatcher would be dealt with like any common crook—if he were caught.

He remembered Ernest Miller’s daughter, who must go to Arizona or die; he remembered Frank Lauder, who must be cared for; he remembered Bill and Betty Anderson, who must have help.

“It’s got to be done!” he said through closed teeth. “Damn it, it’s got to be done!”

He walked swiftly through the night - The Sinister Sphere

The Moon Man is public domain and has seen some usage in modern pulp stories, but (as far as I can find) never really with the same bite that makes these stories appealing, and it's not difficult to see why the character, despite a fairly respectable run and a striking costume, remained mostly obscure. He certainly wouldn't have had any kind of 50s paperback revival without being heavily edited or rewritten entirely just in case somebody was maybe trying to trojan horse any commie talk somewhere, in a character whose main mission statement was addressing economic inequality and getting in trouble with the police over it. And nowadays, with Mysterio being so popular and "Moon Man" taking on a wholly different noxious meaning online, The Moon Man would require a slight overhaul of costume and a complete overhaul of his name, and unfortunately that entails almost making him a different character

The Moon Man stories were adapted into a short comics run circa 1940-42 where they completely overhauled his costume and changed the names, titling him The Raven, but otherwise kept the stories mostly the same. I don't have much of anything to say about him, but there is one additional bit of strangeness that followed The Moon Man's largely unsuccessful transition to comics: The Moon Man was never published in Brazil, but there was a Brazilian superhero in 1962 (which still predates Mysterio) with the exact same name and headpiece. Created by artist Gedeone Malagola who, upon being denied the opportunity to publish his own Phantom stories, simply erased the character’s head, added a cape and used a penny to draw a translucent globe for a head, creating a new hero in turn named Homem-Lua (Moon Man). The character lasted for a couple of years as a back-up on fellow superhero Black Ray’s magazine, before it’s end.

The only detail given about his past is that he was born in Brazil, initially operating near his headquarters in São Paulo before becoming a globetrotter. He lacks explicit superpowers, but is feared by criminals around the world and considered to be an immortal who’s been active for over a century, as many supporting characters in the stories claimed that their grandparents had met the hero. A master of technology who flew around in a personalized jet and was able to call upon the aid of indigenous tribes around the world, who believed him to bear the mark of a godlike entity or be said an incarnation of said entity (as a plot point it's as racist as you'd expect, but also gets a bit funny when you consider how the most famous of moon-themed superheroes this side of Japan, Moon Knight, would pan out 15 years later)

He's mostly a fairly cut-n-dry Phantom clone with some oddities here and there, namely: In one adventure, despite the character being supposedly a human, it was said that all who gaze on his face would die. He was never unmasked in the entirety of his run, and he had no compunctions about executing his villains, whether it was by burying them under a stone idol, breaking dams and letting them drown in the ensuing floods, exploding them, or outright sinking daggers into their chests. It's a very stark contrast to the pulp Moon Man, who preferred to avoid conflict entirely and would only use his gun as a last resort. Ultimately, they bear no official connection, but the strangeness of sharing the exact same name and trademark headgear. It's as if one ends where the other begins.

In some ways, I'd argue the original Moon Man is the purest wish fulfillment pulp hero of The Great Depression, because although eventually he'd take on more bizarre villains, the bulk of his stories are about this regular guy who goes around patching up wounds left by the Depression in a case-by-case basis and (barely) outfoxing and surviving repeated attacks from the powers that be only because he hides his true face from the world. He has no extraordinary abilities or resources, but he makes do as best he can with a ticking time bomb hanging above him.

As unfortunate as the character's present circumstances may be I absolutely think he's got what it takes to be striking and memorable and resonant in ways a lot of his fellow costume avengers aren't, and hey, the guy's public domain, so, if anyone wants to take a shot at reviving him or simply plopping him into a story, add another weird chapter to his history, nothing's stopping you. I simply have to believe there's an audience out there who may fall in love with a well-meaning bleeding heart trying his best who, with nothing but theatrics and smarts and a fishbowl helmet for a head, is driven to fight capitalism instead of Spider-Man.

With a strange, uncanny knowledge the Moon Man selected his victims. Those victims had climbed roughshod to power; some within the law, and others outside the pale. And the Moon Man called on them with a very definite and grim plan— for he walked in the eternal danger of a double menace. If the silent figure had any face at all, it was the face of the man in the moon!

[fabioalencarart]

Daily practice.

Movie Study. Pulp Fiction (1994)

[paintermagazine]

“What the heck is that?”

Portuguese/Brazilian calendar

[k-i-l-l-e-r-b-e-e-6-9]

[evaristoramos]

Redesenhando o Fantasma (O espírito que anda!) que fiz em 2017.

[vvelegrin]

i've succumbed.

grabbed a copy of ender's game from ebay.

[allthebrazilianpolitics]

‘Can’t live without it’: alarm at Musk’s Starlink dominance in Brazil’s Amazon

Satellite internet service’s antennas are everywhere, from illegal mining sites to isolated Indigenous villages

The helicopter swooped into one of the most inaccessible corners of the Amazon rainforest. Brazilian special forces commandos leaped from its metal skids into the caiman-inhabited waters below.

Their target, lurking in the woodland along Brazil’s Bóia River, was a hulking steelmining dredge, caught red-handed as it drilled into the riverbed, pulverising it in search of gold.

Onboard, troops from the national environmental agency, Ibama, and the federal highway police found tools typical of this illegal industry: three bottles of mercury, 10g of gold and an enormous drill bit used to pulp the riverbed below.

But a more modern contraption also caught their eye: a sleek white receiver made by Elon Musk’s satellite internet firm Starlink, which is at the centre of an intensifying showdown between Brazilian authorities and the US billionaire that last week resulted in his social network X being blocked in South America’s biggest country.

“It’s a satellite internet antenna that provides communications to this whole criminal network,” said a special forces combatant as he showed off the device his unit had seized – one of scores taken from such criminals this year.

“We find it everywhere now. Every mining dredge has at least one of them,” the police officer added of the antenna that was being used to connect the barge and its security cameras with an absentee owner in a city hundreds of miles away.

As recently as two years ago, few in the backlands of the Amazon – where high-speed internet has long been an unthinkable luxury – had heard of Starlink or SpaceX, the rocket company that is Starlink’s parent and has sent more than 6,000 low-orbit satellites into space to beam down signals to secluded spots such as this.

Today, Starlink’s antennas are everywhere: at illegal mining operations, but also in isolated Indigenous villages, jungle lodges and ranches, and even military bases scattered across a vast rainforest region larger than the EU.

Continue reading.

[melanieph321]

Ruben Dias x Black Reader - The Bodyguard Part 1/8

Yeah, this is going to be good 🤭🤭 So good!

Summary - Reader is a popstars in trouble and Ruben is her new bodyguard, here to protect and help her find out who wants to hurt her. But what happens when the relationship between Reader and Ruben simply gets too personal?

Enjoy!

"A bodyguard? For what?"

"Y/N, a person has threatened your life."

"So? People do that online every day. Haters gonna hate."

You fell back against the cuchens of your fifthy thousand euro couch. Sure, it was expensive, but it came straight from the set of Pulp Fiction, a collectors item, worth every penny. Pulp Fiction was your absolute favorite movie of all time.

"I get that you don't want someone following you around all day, especially now with the tour of your knew album, but please consider your own safety first." You're sister had been managing you ever since the beginning of your singing career, of course her natural instict was to worry about you.

"Fine you sighed. So when is this guy coming?"

"Well, we had him fly in from his latest job in the UAE."

"The what know?"

"The UAE, like Dubai? Aapparently even the riches shieks in the middle east wants this guy as their bodyguard. He's an ex navy seal from what I've heard."

"Girl." You chuckled. "I received one threatening phone call from a man who calls himself the Dickonataor 3000. What makes you think I need a navy seal to protect me from that? You should have gotten one of the pumped up dudes from the fitness center I go to to set this guy straight. How much is this bodyguard guy even costing us?"

"Well, he said your only up for trial and that discussions won't happen until the end of that trial period."

"A trial?" You sat up. "You mean to tell me that this guy is only coming around for a trial. To what? See if my life is really worth guarding?"

"Somthing like that, yes. I don't know all the details. Taylor was the one who set everything up."

"Taylor? What does he know about hiring bodyguards?"

"Well he has a decade of experience when it comes to driving spoiled popstars like yourself."

"I'm not spoiled, you're spoiled."

You're sister smiled. "We're both spoiled."

"Mom would be very proud, too bad she rarely flies out to see us?"

"She will be here for your album release party, she promised."

"Yeah, yeah, promises promises, they mean nothing to me."

Your sister stood with her hands behind her back,  watching you. You hated the way she dressed nowadays, in pantsuits, like a damn politician.

"Are you ready to go back to rehearsals?" She asked. You had only gone back to your apartment for a quick break. You had been dancing all day.

"I haven't eaten anything yet." You said.

"We'll pick somthing up on the go, come." She offered you her hand. Just like she when you were kids, wanting to hold your hand on your way to school.

Rehearsals went well, however your feet were killing you by the time you got home. Taylor dropped you off at the apartment whilst your sister still had some business to take care of. You were glad to be alone for a change, having been surrounded by people telling you what to do all day.

"Maria?"

You peaked your head through to the kitchen to see if your personal chef was there. You'd ask her to cook a nice meal, perhaps one of her country's delicacies. You loved Brazilian food.

"Maria?"

She was nowhere to be found. You went to look for her in her office.

"Mari—"

"She's not here."

You froze as a big shadow swept behind you, followed by the dark voice of a man.

"Who are you?" You turned around and gasped. The man stood tall, dressed in a blacksuit and tie. His hair was slicked back, like a business man trying to appear more professional than he was.

"I'm here to kill you." He stated, just like that, with his hands tied before him.

"Um...okay. Taylor!!" You shouted.

"We're twelve stories up sweetheart, he won't hear you."

You frowned, applled by the man and his commanding, yet not threatening demeanor.

"What do you want, I don't keep any money here."

"Yeah, I realized that. However I hacked into your computer in your office."

"Y...you what?"

"It's not very smart of you not to encrypt any of your emails. I've received everything I need about your recent payments, credit card details, enough to forge your identity to make you go bankrupt in a few days time."

Your chest heaved up with your heavy breathing. Who was this guy, an intruder? Why was he so calm? Was he one of those serial killers to have sex with your corps before cutting it to pieces and eat it. Not on your watch, you thought and quickly ran back downstairs.

"Mariaaaaa!" You shouted.

"Like I said, I sent her home."

The man was right at your heals, following you wherever you went.

"What...why?" You said, slightly out of breath and your feet were still sore, so you didn't feel like running.

"Your apartment should be cleared out of staff by 6.pm it's easier to keep track of who goes in and out of the apartment if all your staff have a time stamp on them."

"How did you even get into the building?" You asked. "Did the doorman let you in?"

The man looked at you with tinted eyes, they were intimidating, yet kind. "The doorman has a shift change that occurs with a thirty minute window before the next guy shows up. I simply bid my time, observing your building all day, waiting for the right moment to simply walk into the building and take the elevator up to your floor."

"W.. what do you want?" You were trembling with fear now, ready to scream if the man dared try anything. However he seemed to keep his distance between you, yet it seemed like he was still invading your space.

"Like I said, I'm here to kill you. Or more so simulate how a killer would make the attempt to approach you in your home. From what I've gathered today you're an easy victim Y/N."

"How did you....wait are you...you're him aren't you? The bodyguard?"

The man stood with his hands behind his straight back, neither confirming or denying your statement.

You shook your head, a hint of a smile on your lips. "What a starnge way to introduce yourself and aren't you too young to be a bodyguard. I was expecting some G.I Joe looking mother fuc...."

"I think I'll do guarding a 60 kg girl who doesn't lock her front door when she leaves her home."

"But I know everyone who lives in this building and we have a doorman."

"You'll lock your doors from now on." He said, end of.

You were slightly taken back, mostly by the way he was dominating you, but also by the way you let him dominant you.

"It's my apartment,  I can do whatever I want." You said, a bit unconvincing.

"Not on my watch."

You snorted. "Right."

"Did I say something funny?"

"Yeah, a lot of things actually."

"I'm sorry to have frightened you with my unannounced entry Miss..."

"Y/N, is fine. " You said, crossing your arms over your chest.

"It's just standard protocol for me to ensure that whoever I'm working for is secure beyond my protection so that when it's necessary for me to give my life to them, I'll know it was for the right reason and not some sloppy mistake like an unlocked door or the fact that you let unwanted personal linger past suitable hours."

You're eyes were narrowed as you stared at the man, trying to make sense of it all. You stared at him until the point of realizing that he was actually kind of cute.

"Oh shit, there you are."

The strange introduction came to an end with your sister stumbling through the door.

"Taylor told me that he picked you up from the airport hours ago. I see you've already met my sister." She stepped forward shaking the man's hand.

"Yes we have just made ourselves acquainted, setting some ground rules for this arrangement."

Your sister looked at you, slightly impressed. You on the other hand was not having it at all.

"Y/N, why the long face?" Your sister said. "Meet Ruben Dias, you're new bodyguard."

[capacle]

20 Brazilian TTRPGs I wish also existed in English

Today I offer you:

20 Brazilian TTRPGs I wish also existed in English (because I want the world to know about them)

Buckle up, because you won't BELIEVE the diversity of our indie scene.

[presented in no particular order, and only one per author]

1. Meu Brinquedo Preferido ('My favorite toy'), by Eduardo Caetano

A metaphor about a child's growing process by deconstructing their fears through playful situations.

2. SeanchaS, by Jorge Valpaços and Jefferson Neves

A game about myths, construction of identity and narrative around bonfires, about the time of ancient stories and the present time.

3. Gatunos, by Tiago Junges

A GMless/Solo game in which you play as cat thieves and mercenaries doing the dirty work of the five big factions that run the city.

4. Nômades (Nomads), by Marcelo Collar

A card-based RPG in which you play as beings who have the ability to find and pass through the cracks in the veil that separates the universes.

5. Infaernum, by Caio Romero

Create your own apocalypse while playing the game, and interpret characters who experience the last days of all things.

6. Áureos, Os Dançarinos da Lua ('The Moon Dancers'), by Rey Ooze

A game of fight and freedom where dice play capoeira. You play as an 'Áureo', a former slave who, in a fantastic colonial Brazil, receives the blessings of his Orisha to free his people from slavery.

7. Veridiana, by Alan Silva

You play as creatures that live in a large tree, embarking on a deeply sentimental journey in search of a cure.

8. Karyu Densetsu, by Thiago Rosa and Nina Bichara

A game inspired by action anime and manga, with tactical combat, philosophical conversation, and passionate ideals.

9. Imperia, by Jonny Garcia

A game of politics and intrigue in a medieval court, inspired by Game of Thrones. Create a kingdom collaboratively and assume the role of the most influential people in it.

10. Goddess save the Queen, by Carol Neves and Julio Matos

A pulp adventure game in which you play as secret agents of the British Crown during the interwar period, with their own agenda connected in some way with their home nation.

11. Abismo Infinito ('Infinite Abyss'), by John Bogéa

A narrative game of psychological horror in which the protagonists are astronauts, far away in space, involved in a web of lucid nightmares and manifestations of their own fears.

12. Mojubá, by Lucas Conti and Lucas Sampaio

An Afrofuturistic urban fantasy game inspired by Yoruba and Afro-Brazilian mythologies. Play as a person with fantastic powers who descends from the Orixás, fights evil spirits, and occasionally gets into a rap battle.

13. Chopstick, by Igor Moreno

A game inspired by action movies of oriental martial arts, gang fights and crime, with a twist on Fate Accelerated.

14. Contos do Galeão ('Tales of the Galleon'), by Encho Chagas

Create together the legend of a vessel that would have existed during the Golden Age of Piracy. Players will create the ship, its pirates, as well as its enemies, challenges, and rewards.

15. O Cordel do Reino do Sol Encantado ('The Cordel of the Kingdom of the Enchanted Sun'), by Pedro Borges

A narrative game set in the northeastern 'cangaço' region at the beginning of the 20th century.

16. Através das Trevas ('Through the Darkness'), by Ramon Mineiro

A post-apocalyptic fantasy game inspired by The Legend of Zelda: Breath of the Wild, The Witcher and Diablo.

17. Nihilo, by Andre Osna and Gustavo Rolanski

A world very much like our own—yet bigger, deeper, and stranger. Secret banks are run by Urban Dragons, Infernal mafias terrorize slums, interdimensional portals open in the basements of abandoned pizzerias.

18. Caçada ao Colosso ('Hunt for the Colossus'), by Jairo Borges Filho

Reenact stories such as Siegfried and the dragon Fafnir, the Greek Odyssey or legends centered on the opposition of two primary forces of humanity.

19. Perdidos ('Lost'), by Marcelo Paschoalin

Inspired by Bloodborne and Dark Souls, a world in ruins, fragmented to the point where only memories remain. You'll find relics of yesteryear, monstrous beasts, beings that have forgotten their purpose, and devious paths to tread.

20. Hitodama - A jornada das almas ('The Journey of the Souls'), by Alexsander Araujo

You are Shinigamis: creatures half divinity, half Yokai, who must carry out missions through different worlds, fighting formidable enemies and saving lost souls.

[hiwelcometothemonstersancturary]

What books does Proto read?

The Prototype always has his face glued to an engineering or mechanics book. Despite everything, he's still a toymaker! If not fiction, I think he enjoys gothic literature, pulp fiction, and mystery novels. He enjoys Agatha Christie's books a lot!

After some time of Angel teaching him brazilian portuguese, Prototype also starts reading classic brazilian literature. He likes Machado de Assis as well!

[kulapti]

Bookbinding of L'Ombre de ton ombre by windfallswest, Dec 2023.

L'ombre de ton ombre (Fantastic Beasts, Percival Graves x Credence Barebone) is another of my favorite Fantastic Beasts fanfics. It is a novel-length work that deals sensitively with the characters' experiences of grief, depression, and healing. The story has a strong visual element, with the setting and landscape playing a prominent role in the story: the landscape is beautiful and isolated, which fits appropriately parallels the characters' slow process of learning how to live again and appreciate beauty, while emphasizing the difference between being isolated in your struggles and being companionably alone with someone. Treating mental illness is often a long haul, and the structure and resolution of this story addresses that fact with a balance of frankness and optimism.

About this project under the cut.

The gorgeous endpapers are marbled paper by Brazilian artist @renato-crepaldi. Since the landscape is important to the story, I specifically wanted endpapers that reminded me of the Australian badlands. I literally looked for months until I saw this paper before finishing the book. I was so pleased with this!

I'm honestly not entirely convinced by the pinkish tone of the cover, but I made this book to be part of a set of four, and I do think it matches nicely with the others in the set (here's another one of the four).

The frontispiece art is an edited version of J.J. Audubon's illustration of gyrfalcons. Yes, bird guy Audubon. I love this falcon illustration and falcons play a symbolic role in the text, so it was a great excuse!

Materials: Textblock is archival paper, laser printed text, marbled endpapers, with linen and beeswax stitching, reinforced with cotton cheesecloth as mull. Sewn endbands are cotton embroidery floss. Covers are Italian rayon bookcloth (spine) and hand-dyed cotton batik backed with handmade wood pulp paper (ink-like cover pattern). Cover lettering is machine-cut metallic heat transfer vinyl. The case is constructed of archival bookboard, handmade wood-paper, cotton rag paper, and PVA craft glue.

[maxwell-grant]

I was reading one of your posts that crosslinked to another post about someone named the Grey Claw, but the link wasn't working. What's the Grey Claw all about?

I was planning to hold off talking about him until I could finish translating his comic or wrote a story with him proper, plans I still intend to get around to but are gonna be on ice for a long while. So in the meanwhile, let's finally set the record about this guy.

Said to be the star of Brazil's first horror comic, he is unarguably the first Brazilian supervillain, and I'll make an argument that he may very well be The First Comic Book Supervillain proper, inspired by the pulp master villains but something much different than the drab Fu Manchu clones of the time, something new and costumed and strange and fantastical in ways that were years if not decades ahead of his time. Predating the first recognized American supervillains in comics, at the midpoint between Fu Manchu and Doctor Sivana, between Fantomas and The Joker, between Doctor Quartz and Lex Luthor, there is: The Grey Claw.

Murders, underground connections, secret laboratories, opium dens, a secret society of crime and a mysterious super-villain challenging all of police and society. São Paulo was still in it's quiet beginnings, but even then, it dreamed of being a grand shadowy metropolis, like the ones heard about in movies, pulps and North-American comic books.

And that dream made the success of The Grey Claw series in the 1930s. For months, paulista readers eagerly followed the perils of Inspector Frederic Higgens at the hands of The Grey Claw's semi-anarchist gang, with exotic characters such as the robot Flag and the sensual Dame in Black.

Considered by many to be the first Brazilian horror comic - due to it's plot full of monsters, mummies, grave defilings and mentions of life after death - The Grey Claw is a direct spawn from the seedy and mysterious texts of north-american pulp magazines. Soon, those masked avengers and horrific villains in non-stop action would reach the world of comics, giving birth to the superhero revolution. - The City and it's Monster, by Worney Almeida de Souza

The Grey Claw was the star of a comic published in newspaper A Gazetinha starting July 1937, just short of a full year before Superman's debut in June 1938, and it would run for a hundred installments until wrapping up it's story circa 1939. The same newspaper would eventually debut both Superman and The Phantom (second only to Superman and maybe Batman in terms of imitators worldwide among Golden Age superheroes, and I say maybe because they overlap a bit but The Phantom was definitely the go-to superhero to rip off basically everywhere outside of the States) to Brazilian audiences, running alongside The Grey Claw during his brief run. The strip is a police procedural that gradually turns into a sci-fi horror story, a pastiche of film serials and pulp novels that focuses on the titular strange, powerful masked villain running amok in a seedy metropolitan area, and a police detective's efforts to uncover who is behind said villain.

The basic skeleton of it is a fairly cut-and-dry police procedural with a square-jawed Sherlockian policeman investigating a string of calling-card murders with more suspects and victims picking up along the way. Our heroes are mostly colorless and dull archetypes, although the protagonist Higgins is amusingly dickish at several times and I'll go to bat for the female lead Kay Tornhill, she's a fairly progressive character in spite of limited screentime as the detective's partner (not romantically, she joins the investigation to protect her younger brother from the Claw). She's a skilled fencer / marksman / equestrian / swimmer who doesn't really get to show these talents in the story, but they make a point of bringing it up, and I think Kay's presentation probably did the most in convincing people for decades that this comic was penned by a woman under a male name, because, well just look at her.

But as is Pulp Supervillain Lead tradition, it is the villain who has more than enough charisma to spare to carry us through, and a lot of what makes The Grey Claw feel distinct is that he winds up remixing stock pulp/serial villain traits in novel ways, the result of him making his debut in a fairly new and developing medium and growing stranger as the issues develop as he takes center stage more and more. Everytime he shows up, he brings with him things like televised death traps (television hadn't yet been brought to Brazil), underground torch-lit lairs, rabid ape monsters in chains who used to be humans, and a gigantic automaton who walks around making turkey noises and killing everything in sight unless reigned in by The Grey Claw, who names it "FLAG" and treats him with great fondness as if he were a best friend and a sidekick and a dog all in one and bemoans that one day, he will be able to give his berserk death machine friend the power of speech.

FLAG! FLAG! It is I, FLAG! Calm yourself, FLAG!

My poor FLAG! Some day, I shall give you the usage of speech...

Here's one thing about the character upfront: The story was drawn by Renato Silva (who also did Nick Carter stories) and written by Francisco Armond, but nobody knows who Francisco Armond is. For a while, the most likely candidate was Helena Ferraz, a poet and co-editor/director of the paper who had already published under the male pseudonym Alvaro Armando (named after her two sons), but relatives of hers confirmed it wasn't her, and so currently nobody knows who wrote this. I actually still have no idea who, if anyone, currently owns the rights to The Grey Claw, because although he's had a recent reboot (by the same creator of Doutrinador and in the exact same vibe, which means it's dogshit and I will not entertain it), he's long passed the point where he should be public domain.

The comic was a great success for it's time and would achieve a level of fame none of it's contemporaries would by being reprinted internationally. In 1939, it was reprinted without permission by Mexican editor Sayrol in 1939 and made it's way to European publishers through there. Between 1944-1947 it had a very popular run in Belgian magazine "Le Moustique", and he was adapted to France under the name "La Griffre Grise", which is where I discovered the character while looking for French pulp characters. Unsurprisingly, the character was never credited as a Brazilian creation, and for 50 or so years went almost completely undiscovered by even the most hardcore researchers.

Even in Brazil, nobody knows about this guy, and it was only in 2011, 74 years after his debut, that the character's entire saga was finally collected and reprinted in trade paperback by Editora Conrad. It's not cheap and it's really hard to find and order, completely out of stock in most online stores, but I got it as a birthday gift from my sister a couple years ago. I have it on hand right now to help put this post together.

It's a fairly weird comic that's in many ways aged really poorly but also tapped into some veins superhero comics and future supervillains would take a long while to even approach. The dialogue is a couple steps clunkier than even your average Golden Age comic, almost impenetrably outdated with Portuguese linguistics (a poisoned character saying out loud "Oh no! I've just been narcotized!") and weird malapropist English terms hastily translated and inserted in, and conveying the feel of it is even beyond my own skills at translating. It's a unique time capsule of how Brazil was still adapting to rapidly developing times, recently loosening up from centuries-spanning shackles of Portuguese and Spanish colonialism and with a newfound input of foreign media in pulps and serials and theater, and adapting and developing new subcultures and ways of expression as a result.

This was one of the first times a Brazilian comic would play around this much with USAmerican tropes and archetypes (cultural imports from the USA were all extremely new and viewed as a hot new alternative to European art and culture that had otherwise been the dominant form), a São Paulo-published comic set in a seedy, Depression-choked American metropolis, a big monument of brick and poison and inequality, which is exactly what São Paulo would become. There is something oddly alien and prescient about The Grey Claw because it's rooted in a fictionalized fantasyland idea of 1930s New York, that would nevertheless predate São Paulo's trajectory into becoming the country's big American-Style Urban Center, over the decades later when it would be the USAmericans' turn to tighten those colonialist shackles back on.

The dialogue also makes it pretty funny to read as a result and especially when the villain shows up, because The Grey Claw himself is pretty goddamn funny. Not just funny: I think his characterization is actually pretty damn impressive, and it's certainly the main draw of the thing for me. There's one sequence I'm going to post the whole page to be appreciated. I can't scan it so you'll just have to take my word as is that this is the whole page.

For context: It is revealed that The Grey Claw has been on a mad quest to unlock the mysteries of life and death via a formula that can bring the dead back to life. He monologues quite intensely about having unveiled and unlocked the secrets, saying to FLAG that he was the first step in giving life and intelligence into inanimate matter ("You would be a perfect creation, if only you were able to express your feelings", he says, to the horrid gurgling automaton who murders everything in sight), but that this time, he shall perfect the breath of life.

But it is eventually revealed, when he is exposed as Dr James Stone (a "famed young chemist, one of the most well-liked men around town") after his explosive demise, that he had in fact stolen the formula's recipe from a former partner, Professor Curberry. Curberry was the ape monster he kept chained in the basement, and that he visited in order to whip while it writhed in chains, with the narrative stating The Claw was "blinded by hate" towards him. At the end, it's revealed that Curberry's corpse coming back to life as a half-man-half-ape monster was a side effect of The Grey Claw "getting the dosage wrong", and we're just gonna ignore the can of worms that ending brings to focus on when The Grew Claw actually succeded.

For his test subject, he picked the corpse of the scientist's secretary he murdered within the 2nd strip, over a week well into death, and injects her at the dawn of midnight. And I'm gonna have to transcribe it:

Mid-night at last! The "Claw" begins the grand experiment.

The ghost's hand shakes slightly as he injects the licor of life in the dead woman's arms. And this is the first time the steely nerves of that insensitive creature have ever faltered.

"Twenty four minutes and...she'll be back to life! Ah, this time the triumph will be complete!"

"Will I fail yet again? No, failure is not possible. However, the experiment realized with Curberry was definitive...how horrible it would be if the experiment failed again!"

"It would be horrible! But no! If I fail, I will not allow her to survive...Yes! I shall exterminate her! Curberry and Mac-Flagan were more than enough!"

The minutes drizzle out slowly. As the pointers walk across, the mysterious ghost feels his nervousness grow.

They dedicated an entire page's worth just to The Grey Claw stressing and worrying and having a breakdown over the prospect of his formula not working again. But he does succeed, and the secretary comes back to life devoid of any memories and in great shock. Here's how the "insensitive creature" reacts

Despite his great dominion over his own nerves, the "Claw" can barely repress his restlessness. The living dead woman stumbles around her with a look of fright.

DAME IN BLACK: "What an emptiness in my head! It's all confused, scrambled, obscured!"

THE GREY CLAW: "This time I've won completely, FLAG!"

He later tells her that, with no memories of her own, she might as well not "cling to the past" and instead join him as his "Dame in Black". But in the aftermath of this, while he's busy boasting and jeering that the world belongs to him now, FLAG immediately zeroes in and tries to maul the woman before The Claw shoos him away. And then in the next strip, he writes in his diary about how his two besties are getting along now-

The next day, certain that FLAG would no longer try assaulting the "Dame in Black", the "Claw" penetrates a discreet cabinet next to the laboratory

"My memories...they shall be worth a fortune later..."

"I have triumped! She transcended the throes of death and returned to life, thirty minutes after the injection. She showed herself a bit stunned, undecided, wowed; she spoke, she walked, she fought…yes, she fought the idiot automaton, who was startled by the new companion…But now, they are both great friends."

"I have taught her the process of turning FLAG docile as a lamb. She is of sane mind; her mind has shed, however, all impressions of the "past". My voice, however, brought her memory-"

Did I tell you guys already that, before the police blows the two up, FLAG ultimately mauls The Grey Claw to death while his last words are him desperately trying to get the robot to calm down, saying "It's me!" instead of fleeing? I'm posting like one highlight, but to post all of them would be to post basically every time this character shows up in the story.

(Art by @zanzooeditorial)

There's just such a fascinating mismatch between how the narration and everyone sees him, as this stone cold invincible death-dealer turned death-master who holds the entire country in a grip of terror, and his characterization when he's actually on-screen going about his affairs. The narrative goes through lengths to paint him as an unfeeling soulless monster that is almost patently contradicted with most of what he says and does in-text, which veers widly between pitiable and even sympathetic to, actually worse than if he was fully pragmatic chessmaster genius the police perceives him as, and it's not even really played for laughs, it's more like a side effect of this being published peacemeal over 2 years and shooting for new directions and thus contradicting itself. He's afforded this emotional range that's just really unheard of, not just in the pulp villains he's based on but in all the Golden Age supervillains that came after him, it's something that only really started catching on with Marvel and their attempts to add extra dimension to their villains.

The Grey Claw is a brutal murderer and a cutthroat terrorist who has an innocent woman shot in the heart within the second page, and he's a wisecracking goofball who delighs in showing off his advanced intellect and machinery before his police nemesis. He commands vast invisible communications networks and armies of brutal thugs, and then he writes diaries and plays pranks and poses dramatically. He is a vicious man who turned his former partner into a mutant ape and keeps him locked up and whipped while constantly berating and cursing him ("Ah Ah Ah! I wish your university colleagues could see you now!"), but he did forsake victory and spared his worst enemies from a horrible end to save the life of a woman he liked among them. He is a deeply lonely gothic dweeb who casually engages in constant banter with the monstrous unresponsive automaton, whom he asks for input and talks to and holds tight in moments of emotion or camraderie that is entirely one-sided on his end, he barely restrains it from murdering everything in sight at all times and winds up being mauled to death the second that grip is loosened. He has one friend in the whole entire world and it's the one he made himself.

He is desperately driven to prove himself and have that blasted resurrection formula he's been developing for years work, even though we learn that it was apparently stolen from someone else the whole time and he was just, what, passionately pretending to himself that it was his life's work? We never get to see his face, only a last-minute identity as a respectable young chemist and "the last suspect anyone would have", and given he was indeed able to reverse death and decay, seemingly permanently, it would have been extremely easy for the series to continue, and for The Grey Claw to come back again and again as many times as it took.

He is humorous and childish and absurd and even quite likeable, but the bodies do not stop piling near him, and the more he shows up, the weirder and bloodier things get, until what began as a bog-standard police whodunit ends with a violent struggle between a former professor turned bloodied giant ape man and a titanic lumbering murder robot deep within an underground dungeon system, where said murder robot proceeds to slaughter everything in sight including the Dr Frankenstein-gangster-pirate who created him, as the police throws dynamite at them because nothing else has worked so far in stopping them.

By all means, The Grey Claw had everything necessary and then some to make it into the biggest leagues of supervillain history, on the strength not just of his initial outing but his inspired characterization and great success and popularity by his time. Today he's remembered only among diehard afictionados and collectors, for spearheading many firsts within Brazilian comics and being one of the very, very few figures among Brazilian superheroes/supervillains to achieve any kind of fame at all. The scene and history when it comes to Brazilian superheroes, and reasons for the lack thereof, is a topic for another day.

Some fans have tried boosting the character's rep by claiming he was an influence on several marginally better-known characters such as Marvel's Blazing Skull or the nascent villain protagonist genre of comics that would pop up throughout Europe in the 50s-60s, but even I'll say that's a stretch too far. Records show The Grey Claw was popular in his time and region for sure, popular enough to be reprinted without credit across the globe and popular enough to be remembered and redrawn in present day (can't discount the strength of a good design, at least), but he was an anomaly at the end, a missing link untethered and unprotected from time.

A gothic horror alchemist who skulks around medieval dungeons, weaponizing every latest technological advancement and social anxiety to his advantage and even some that didn't really exist yet. A totem of death obsessed with life, the first comic book villain to surpass death if only for a moment, an inhuman murderous monster who turns out to be as painfully human as it gets. A skull-faced harbinger of death who foregoes the cloak and scythe to don a panama hat and fancy apparell and The Chest Logo Of His Persona and Brand. Just one year before some gringo strongman was doing that but with circus colors and a letter instead.

Pfah, fashion visionaries never get their due in time. But if conquering death was a trivial task for The Fascinora, conquering time and returning to his true self should be achievable in no time at all!

Ah Ah Ah!...

Give or take some 90 years, maybe.

(Art by @necronauta)

[xaeethebaee]

The Light in his Dark World

Minors DNI! 18+ Folks ONLY!

Synopsis: You're relentlessly pursued by the infamous blood-thirsty gangster by the name of South Terano, and you cannot figure out why he's so smitten by you.

Black Reader x South Terano

A/n: A while back, I did reblog a post and the OP explained they want to see a story like this, and I volunteered. This is my first time writing for South. Actually, it is my first time writing a slow-burn fanfic so let me know how it was. @sukunasbabymama Sorry it took so long.

Word Count: 7,270

Warnings: Mentions of brutal violence

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Rokuhara. An infamous bar located deep in the slums of Rio De Janeiro. On the outside, it looks like the typical run-down shack adorned with rusted shutters and somewhat rotted wooden door frames. That is not the case upon closer inspection of the establishment. Almost every night, many people are drawn to its walls, and it is not because of the cheap beer and sexy bartenders. Once getting past those flimsy entrance doors, and down the derelict stairs that seemingly lead into a dark abyss, a whole new world has been opened up.

Over a hundred Rio De Janeiro residents gather around where the real fun is happening. A makeshift boxing ring lay as the centerpiece of the basement. Spotlights shine down on it, illuminating dried-up blood stains on the material and a pair of violent men trading harsh blows with one another. Rokuhara hosts one of Brazil's most intense underground fight clubs and this is where you begrudgingly call your place of employment.

There is not much opportunity to flourish in your poverty and crime-stricken city, and being from a financially struggling family, moving somewhere else was not a feasible option. You’re essentially making the best out of your unfortunate home life though you find that serving bottles of liquor to drunk men who enjoy watching other men beat each other to a pulp is a much better job than selling your body as a prostitute which is also a common practice here. Also, the tips you earn are a lot more than anyone could imagine which does allow you to live slightly more comfortably than many other people in your area and have savings for when you eventually decide to call somewhere else home.

Essentially, every night between 10 pm and 5 am, you witness brawls between different gangsters from hoods across Rio and even other parts of Brazil. Your primary purpose is to prepare and serve drinks to the rowdy guests during these optimal hours and tonight is no different. Men and women alike crowd around the ring, yelling obscenities, and betting hundreds - sometimes even thousands - of Brazilian reals on the fighters. It is not the kind of environment you enjoy being in and seeing these unsavory individuals take pleasure in this savagery causes you to lose more and more faith in humanity. Again, you press forward as there are not many options.

After placing the bottle of beer on your tray, you way through the thick crowd of patrons and towards a small flight of stairs. It’s a relatively quaint platform that’s only reserved for the VIP guests of the establishment. VIP guests often include unsavory business Mongols, gang leaders, cartel bosses, and in this particular case, a man with a spine-chilling reputation as being the most brutal fighter of Brazil’s underground world.

For the most part, the patrons and fighters are all faceless and that even includes the regulars for Rokuhara; however, this particular individual is different. You know him all too well. Because of his massive height, he easily dwarfs everyone he comes across which adds to his intimidating aura. Although reluctant, you put on a brave smile as you approached the scary man, who is sitting quietly as he observes an ongoing fight. You vaguely make out a smug smile on his face while he leans back in his leather chair with his long legs manspreading, obviously entertained by the violence before him.

You can hear your heartbeat pumping in your ears once you’ve arrived at his table. Nervously, you set the bottle of beer down next to him, attempting to avoid eye contact with him.

“Here’s your drink, sir.” You muster out.

Quickly, you turn your heel and begin to walk away, but you did not get to make it far when you feel your arm being grabbed, preventing you from leaving. Looking down, you notice a large hand wrapped around your arm, though it was not tight enough to cause you any pain.

“What did I say about the formality, sweetheart?”

His deep voice sent shivers down your spine as you slowly turn around to face him. What you see is the man’s piercing yellow round eyes and his grin that is now being directed at you. He has blonde hair that is being kept in a bun and despite wearing a white button-down shirt, his Brazilian tribal tattoo design sticks out from the rightmost side of his chest and runs up his neck. It is not surprising that many people shake in fear when they are in the presence of this man. Sighing, you gently try freeing your arm from his grip.

“I’m working right now.”

You mumble but the man nonetheless heard your soft voice. He can see the uncertainty in your eyes therefore he hesitantly lets go of you.

“I told you this before. You don’t have to be so scared around me.”

He says with a tone of voice that contradicts his outward appearance. You can hear the gentleness in his deep voice in addition to slight concern. You’re still not at much ease as you are fully aware of what this man is capable of.

It is not the first time you have come face-to-face with him. In fact, you see him almost all the time either in Rokuhara as one of the fighters or in the streets of Rio De Janeiro taking on gangs of hoodlums. Each and every single violent encounter with this man always lead to someone being fatally or mortally wounded by him. His strength and violent streak easily triumph over everyone he comes across, and he is even not above murder if it means he keeps his dominion over others.

Despite your many encounters with him over time, you somehow end up unscathed. On the contrary, you are often on the receiving end of the man’s rare instance of friendliness. You’re still unsure why you seem to get special treatment from him especially since you know that he knows you aren’t fond of people like him. You’re seemingly the perfect victim for him to play around with and destroy but in reality, the man treats you almost as if you’re a porcelain doll. You can’t even recall a time when the man has even said something mean to you.

“I am working, South.”

You repeat, this time uttering his name with a bold expression. Your assertiveness is felt by the man named South who just takes a sip from the beer bottle you brought him. After feeling refreshed from the sip, he just nods and then says with the same gentle tone:

“Thank you.”

“You’re welcome.” You quickly follow up.

Once again, you try leaving him to his drink, but what he says next stops you in your track.

“So have you decided on going out with me?”

An audible sigh past your lips before you swallow some of your fear. You turn back around to look South back in the eye.

“You asked me that at least five times this week.” You point out.

“Yeah, I know.”

Although you were anxious, you still proceeded to reject him in the friendliest way.

“I told you before. I am not looking for a relationship right now.”

South goes quiet, momentarily thinking over your response as well as his future response. There is no doubt in your mind that he is going to say that he understands how you feel and then reiterate his eagerness to take you out on a date. This has been the norm for the last few encounters you two had, and just as you predicted, he states:

“I get it. You don’t wanna date a guy like me who kills people for fun. It’s just you’ve been the only light in my dark world, and I can’t miss out on losing that light. I wanna keep you safe and happy, sweetheart.”

Desperation laces his tone; however, you’re unfazed by it. It is no secret to either of you that you find this man absolutely terrifying. You actually witnessed him at his most violent, and he knew you were there.

The sight of him punching a man’s face until it became a bloody pile of mush still haunts your mind, and South had the nerve to rationalize it by stating the man had ill intentions for you. You can’t deny that it was clear you were about to be attacked by the creepy man and South did come to your rescue but that does not change the fact that you saw the blatant enjoyment on his face. South claims he wants to keep you happy, but murdering people in your presence is certainly not how he should go about it. You’re mildly annoyed by his insistence but it obviously does not overshadow the fear you harbor for him. South can see it in your face. He can see you shaking with anxiety before you realized it yourself.

“South, I-”

You start to speak but a sudden uproar of cheering cuts you off. You’re then reminded of the environment you are in, seeing the crowd of people screaming and yelling as the match has reached its conclusion. South momentarily gets distracted when the winner gets announced, which gives you the perfect opportunity to slip away. He immediately noticed your retreat but just decides to take another sip from his beer.

You return to the bar to take a deep breath. For a moment, you did not realize that a group of people was waiting to place their order with you. One older man just clears his throat to get your attention.

“Ma’am?”

He calls for you though it was unusually quiet. Looking up, you see the faces of the people and you resume your work.

“Oh! I’m so sorry everyone! I’ll be more than happy to assist.”

You put on a brave face before proceeding with your duties as a bartender. You tried your best to fulfill each order promptly, but with the state that you are in and the time crunch you are on, it was inevitable that you made mistake after mistake after mistake. Though you are quick to fix these mistakes, no one bothered to mention them to you. You’re fully aware of how irritable people can get when their orders aren’t correct or when service is slow, so you expected someone to call you out. It did not happen, however.

Rio De Janeiro is a massive city but when it comes to infamous people like South Terano, words about them travel fast amongst the communities. That means your encounters with him are no secret. People noticed how differently his demeanor has changed when he is around you. Even a blind man can see how soft he is when it comes to you, and after everyone heard about him killing a man just to protect you, an unspoken rule was established. No matter what, nobody is allowed to bring any harm to you whether it be physical or emotional.

You did not realize just how much influence South has over your life. You’re off-limits for any and everyone, despite not having a single violent bone in your body you’re just as feared, and you unknowingly have dominance. It’s the reason why you can work in such a violent environment without so much as a single threat being thrown at you. In the eyes of the residents of Rio, you are South’s girl therefore you are being treated as such.

It took several minutes but you’ve finally finished fulfilling everyone’s orders and even made a sizable tip in the process. You take a moment to catch your breath, leaning on the bar counter and reflecting on your interactions with South. You know how dangerous he is. He’s a ferocious man who takes every opportunity to fight and kill. Not to mention his short temper which causes him to lash out at anyone who provokes him, but somehow, you’re his soft spot. You’re someone who brought light to his dark world but how? Where did these feelings for you come from? You nearly strain yourself trying to figure out why South is so smitten by you.

“Ma’am? May I have another bottle of Guinness?”

The same quiet man from earlier asks you, although he was nervous. Sitting up and presenting him with a smile.

“Of course!”

You answer back, grabbing another bottle of the requested drink from the refrigerator. After handing it to the man, you suddenly make a realization.

“That was the drink South ordered when we first met.” You think to yourself with a sigh.

Even before you two officially met, South’s name has already been circling around. Even before seeing his face for the first time, you knew just how dangerous this man is and when you two met, you felt your veins run icy cold.

You explicitly remember being behind the bar, cleaning up the dirty wine glasses. This night was any typical night with the rowdy patrons yelling obscenities at the fighters before them. It is a sound that you were starting to get used to since starting your job as a bartender. Almost immediately, everything went silent, and the atmosphere changed entirely, and you’re initially confused.

That is until you peer up and immediately see a massive man making his way to the boxing ring. He has a wide grin on his face as if he is thoroughly entertained by the fear that is radiating throughout the room. No one bothered to say anything as this man takes off his shirt, revealing his toned upper body and tribal tattoo. He indeed needed no introduction.

He stands opposite another man who presents a cocky smile on his face. Everyone is silent, too terrified to utter a single thing. You’ve heard countless stories about the destruction and chaos this man has caused since he was a child. South Terano: a name that strikes fear in the hearts of many and you’re no different. You had every reason to be afraid of him.

Finally seeing him in person feels like your nightmare has come true even though you should’ve expected that he’d make an appearance eventually. You do work at an underground fight club after all and all South does is fight so it was inevitable that he’ll show up. Too stunned to steady your breathing and shaking hand, you failed to realize the glass you were holding is starting to slowly slip from your grip.

Nevertheless, you watch as the fighters begin stretching as they prepare for their upcoming match. South’s grin never falters as he cracks his neck and due to the silent room, you heard every bit of the popping sound. With bloodlust in his eyes, he heaves out a breathy chuckle before stating with an amused tone:

“This is gonna be fun. You’re gonna regret challenging m--”

He’s suddenly interrupted by the sound of glass shattering on the floor. All eyes are on you as you stand motionless and embarrassed. The man’s grin dropped a bit upon seeing you struggle to gather your words to formulate a sentence.

“Sorry!”

You quickly shout before hurrying to a nearby broom. With the room still silent, everyone - including South - can hear your frantic sweeping. As soon as you’re finished sweeping up the broken glass, you’ve used the dustpan to take it over to the trashcan. Quickly, you opened the lid of the trash can before discarding the glass into it. Throughout all of that, the room was still silent save for the sounds of you cleaning up the mess.

Looking back up, you’re still the center of attention. The onlookers have fearful expressions on their faces while South remains to have his grin, amused by what he just witnessed. Overwhelmed with embarrassment, you just give an awkward thumbs-up before announcing:

“I’m finished!”

After that, you back away into a corner in shame which allows the match to officially begin.

Both fighters get into position and in no time, the referee signals for the match to begin with the sound of his whistle. Hastily, South’s opponent rushes to him and despite the obviously massive height difference, the man nonetheless reaches high enough to punch South in the face. The hit; however, only felt like a light touch to the large man who just laughs.

“Try again weak shit!” He taunts with laughter.

The smaller opponent grunts and then takes the opportunity to punch South again, this time on his abs but that hit was proven futile as well. In shock, he looks up only to find South’s prominent grin peering back at him. The man realized his mistake too late once the bigger opponent leans forward.

“My turn.” He simply says.

Before he knew it, he feels a punch that is equal to the strength of Hercules. That punch shatters his facial bones, resulting in the man stumbling backward and falling onto the cold and bloody floor.

“That’s it? You just wasted my fucking time!”

He yells before stomping the unconscious man’s chest, no doubt breaking his ribs and damaging his internal organs. A horror-stricken gasp escapes your lips due to witnessing his brutal savagery. That gasp did not go unnoticed by South who looks directly at you with the same amused grin.

“Did that scare you, sweetheart?” He directs his taunting to you.

You can feel the hairs on the back of your neck stand up as the terrifying fighter walks out of the ring and through the crowd of people. In no time, he’s at your bar, looking down at you as if you’re his prey.

“I asked you a question.” he reminds you.

Taking in a deep breath you respond sheepishly:

“Yes.”

“Don’t be scared. I won’t bite.”

South says as he reaches out to run his fingers through your hair. On impulse, you back away before his hand could make contact with you. You can hear audible gasps from the crowd when you rejected his advance. You can see the grin on his face drop ever so slightly, convincing you that it is your time to die.

The scary man just leans forward, resting his elbows on the counter as he checks out your body. He notices the way you nervously stand while also shaking like a scared puppy. Additionally, he notices your uniform perfectly accentuating your curves and the way your melanated skin glows from the basement lighting. Your e/c eyes look back at his yellow ones, nearly enchanting him.

“What’s your name?” He asks.

You think about his question for a few seconds, caught off guard by his sudden cordialness.

“Y/n.” You reluctantly answer.

“Cute.”

He simply says, showing a very subtle spark in his eye like he just realized something. The man just smiles more before requesting a drink.

“Guinness.”

Although you’re plagued with fear, you comply with his request. Immediately, you grab a bottle of the drink and hand it to him with a nervous smile.

“Thanks.”

“You’re welcome.” You muster out.

Everyone is still looking in complete shock at you two’s interaction.

Thinking back on that day, you even noticed that he was nice to you then. You think to yourself when did South actually start to have a crush on you, and you’re having a hard time understanding why. You live a very unremarkable life, you cannot think of many special skills you possess, and you don’t think you’re the prettiest girl in the world - let alone the city.

So what made him so infatuated with you? Are you the only girl he pursues? Why won’t he give up his pursuit? So many questions in so little time. You’re stressing yourself with all the overthinking, so you decided to take another deep breath, purging your mind so you can relax for once tonight.

That brief moment of relaxation did not last long, however. The noise from the crowd seizes almost instantaneously and the tension rises once again. At this point, you are already aware of who has decided to approach your bar without even looking up from your spot.

“Sweetheart?”

His voice pierces your eardrum like a spear. You can feel his presence getting stronger and his footsteps getting louder as he goes through the crowd of scared people. With the help of his long legs, he reached your bar in no time. The people that were already sitting there immediately scurried away as if they were roaches when the light has been turned on. Just like when you two first met, the onlookers watch - some in fear while others with intrigue - your upcoming interaction with South Terano.

The very large man leans on the countertop, resting his elbows as he watches you hurry to the refrigerator to grab yet another bottle of Guinness. Swiftly, you set the beer down in front of him without bothering to acknowledge his presence.

“Sweetheart?” He repeats while cracking open the bottle. “Look at me.”

He demands softly, but you remain stubborn, adamant that maybe if you ignore him long enough, he’ll leave you alone. South’s stubbornness, on the other hand, is more potent than yours. His unwavering pursuit for you will not stop even if you don’t speak to him for the rest of your life, and you are fully aware of this. He’s a patient man indeed as he just sits and waits for you to finally give him a response. Your tenacity soon starts to falter after several minutes of dead silence. South is still leaning on the countertop as he finishes the bottle of beer.

“The end of your shift is approaching isn’t it?”

He asks, prompting you to look at the nearby digital clock. It’s just a few minutes away from hitting 5 am, thus you take the time to start cleaning. You’ve made sure to clean your entire bar except for one particular spot. The man just lets out a chuckle once he sees that you finally noticed his empty beer bottle and your reluctance to approach him.

Finally, you decided now or never to reach for his bottle, but that was the moment South took his opportunity to make his move. In a move too fast to back away from, South grabbed your arm and pulled you slightly closer to him. You released a surprised gasp upon the sudden movement. Shocked and terrified, you freeze up as you look up to see South’s soft expression.

“Just one date. It’s all that I ask for.”

“No.”

You quickly answer; however, that isn’t enough to discourage the strong man. He just squeezes your arm slightly harder than usual, prompting you to feel more petrified. Through a shaking tone, you muster out:

“I-I-I told y-you. Not interested in a r-relationship.”

At that moment, you did not realize tears are starting to roll down your cheek. You’re scared of this man, of course, but you’re feeling a slew of conflicting emotions at the same time. In spite of knowing everything about this man, there is a part of you that is very intrigued by him. That feeling of intrigue is also accompanied by attraction as the man before you is very easy on the eyes. It’s those feelings in addition to your fear that got your mind in a swirl. Now that he’s much closer than you are comfortable with, you are only able to ask one simple question.

“Why do you want to be with me so badly?” You ask with a cracking voice.

Seeing your emotional state, South uses his free hand to gently caress your cheek while simultaneously wiping the flowing tears.

“I told you already. You’re my light. You were the only person who gave me comfort.”

Confused by his answer, you shake your head in denial.

“All I-I did was tell you I wasn’t….interested.”

“Is that all you think you did for me?”

He asks you with a facial expression that tells you that he is unconvinced. You search through every facet of your mind trying to figure out what South means but the only things that come up are all the times you rejected his advances.

“You seriously don’t remember, do you?” He asks.

“Remember what?”

The man lets go of your arm, breathing out a disappointed sigh. For the first time, you can visibly see his grin drop from his face. Leaning up, South puts his hands in his pockets before he starts walking towards the flight of stairs essentially leaving alone at the bar.

“I’ll be waiting outside for you when you’re finished. Don’t try to escape.”

He demands, sending shivers down your and everyone’s spines. You only got to see South when he’s enjoying his life but now this is a mood from him that is completely unfamiliar. The terror within you goes nuclear because of it. You can feel the pitiful eyes being directed at you as you finish closing your bar.

Once finished, you take off your apron and hung it up on a nearby hook. You take in a deep breath before releasing it slowly in an attempt to calm your firing nerves. Anxiously, you walk toward the stairs feeling every single eye of the people on you. Turning around, everyone just gives you a sad nod, convinced that this is their last time seeing you alive and well. Seeing their reactions gave you no comfort whatsoever; however, you nonetheless ascend up the flimsy wooden stairs and into the raggedy above-ground shack.

Almost immediately, you see the extremely tall man waiting just outside for you. Having no other choice, you press forward through the entrance and out into the humid world to face Brazil’s most dangerous man. It’s still relatively silent as you notice him slowly getting on the motorcycle that has been behind him.

“Get on.”

He says to you however you stand there confused as you’re trying to process the odd request. You can see the annoyance in his eyes while he breathes out a sigh. Quickly, he grabs your arm again but he is very careful not to hurt you. South guides you to the vehicle and has you sitting in front of him.

“W-Where are you taking me?” You ask softly.

“My place.” He simply responds with a rougher tone than usual.

That answer made you feel more fear in your bones therefore you try getting off the motorcycle. Immediately, you’re stopped when South cages you in with his large arms as he grabs the handles, engulfing you with his massive body. You did not have time to process what is going on or even register his body heat when the vehicle turns on. The motorcycle revs, scaring you into being completely still.

“Hold on to my hands and stay still.”

He commands and since he is so close to you, you can feel the vibrations in his chest and abdomen due to his deep voice. Nevertheless, you comply as you’re afraid to make him more pissed off and you do not want to fall off the vehicle.

South gently accelerates and the vehicle moves though, he is mindful of the speed he’s going in. Therefore, he goes at a leisurely pace as you two traverse through the littered and cracked streets of the slums. You’re as comfortable as you can get while having a firm hold on the man’s hands, noticing just how large he is compared to you.

Though it is still dark outside, you can still see your poverty-stricken community. Houses are ransacked - some are even destroyed, graffiti line the stone walls of the buildings, and trash litter the streets. With you only spending most of your time either at your apartment or at the bar, you forget just how rundown your community is. Seeing that makes you feel sad.

That’s just from the appearance. Crime plagues your city. It is so bad that Rio De Janeiro persistently shows up as one of the world’s most dangerous cities by many different news organizations. One of the biggest perpetrators of the violence that is rampant is the man who you’re currently riding through the city with. That same man who spent a considerable amount of time trying to get you to go on a date with him. Well, he finally got his wish as you’re both on your way to his place.

You’re nervous to see what his living situation is like. You can imagine a large compound that is surrounded by his followers, a foul stench of death lingering in the air, and piles of trash thrown about. To your surprise, you see the downtown district come into your view. Lights from the bustling city and its skyscrapers leave you in awe once you’re reminded that not all of Rio is the slums. As a matter of fact, it’s one of the most beautiful cities in the world that boasts terrific nightlife and is home to many stunning beaches. It’s too bad the city’s natural beauty and rich culture are overshadowed by violence.

South continues to drive the motorcycle towards the downtown area, leaving you more perplexed and nervous, knowing the downtown area is typically home to more wealthy individuals. You want to question the man about where exactly is his home located, but the words are stuck in your throat.

Besides the loud revving of the motorcycle, there is still an awkward silence between you two. No doubt, there is a slew of things South Terano wants to say right about now, and you’re no different. Instead of speaking, you continue to gawk at the sheer difference between the downtown area and the area you call home. Poverty isn’t around every corner and the streets are significantly clearer.

Soon enough, you start to feel the vehicle decelerate as you two arrive at a high-rise building at the epicenter of the city. South turns into an underground gated parking and after inputting a code into the security panel, the large metal gate opens up. Inside are numerous high-end vehicles lining the parking lot, and South goes to a designated spot next to a massive black SUV. The man parks his motorcycle in front of and perpendicular to the vehicle before turning off the engine.

“Follow me.”

He says, getting off while simultaneously grabbing your hand, interlocking fingers with it. The sudden and intimate move catches you off guard momentarily which is the reason why you did not utter a single word as you’re escorted to an elevator. South puts the same code into another security panel and before you know it, the doors closed and you can feel the elevator ascending up the building.

Again, silence as you two stand in the somewhat cramped space with the only thing preventing you from hearing your pounding heartbeat was the classical music playing from the speakers. Though, that did not stop you from vaguely noticing the much larger man subtly moving his head in the same rhythm as the piano melody.

Deciding not to think much of it, you are caught off guard when the elevator stops at one of the highest floors of the massive building. As soon as it stops, the metal doors open up to reveal a long hallway. Casually and while still holding your hand, South walks, and after he passes by a few doors, he stops at one with a prominent 906 on it. After putting in the same code one last time, a clicking sound was heard letting both of you know that the door has been unlocked.

Entering, you’re immediately greeted by the most beautiful and luxurious apartment that you could ever imagine. Expensive furniture is throughout while stunning paintings adorn the perfectly painted walls and there is a massive piano towards the corner of the living space. All of that is also complimented by a large window that gives a magnificent view of Rio De Janeiro. You’re so in awe with the place that you did not notice South letting go of your hand. He just watches with a soft smile on his face as you continue to admire the apartment.

“Like it?” He asks.

Slowly, you turn to him. Your fear has simmered down somewhat which means you finally have enough courage to speak full sentences to him.

“It’s beautiful. This is really your place?” You asked with curiosity.

South chuckles at the sparkle in your eyes.

“Yes. It is. Being a gangster has its perks.”

Hearing those words quickly made you think of the worst. You imagine the malevolent things this man could’ve done to get such a beautiful place. How many people did he have to step over and kill for him to live in such luxury?

“Sweetheart, I signed the lease just like any other person.”

Almost like he read your mind, South just chuckles after giving that brief explanation. It did not do much to settle your nerves enough especially after it finally dawns on you that you’re completely alone with South - the very man you’ve been horrified of for a long time. Unsure of what to do, you just stand in the middle of the living room while holding yourself.

“Sweetheart, I-”

He starts to speak but is quickly cut off by you.

“What are you gonna do to me?” You ask.

“Nothing.”

He says while approaching you. Not wanting to be too close to him, you just back away but you’re once again reminded of South’s long and quick arm. Gently, he grabs your shoulder before taking you over to the couch. Your mind goes haywire as you think of what he could be planning. If he chooses to have his way with you, you know that there is not anything you can do about that as he’ll easily overpower you. So instead of trying to fight a battle that you have already lost, you do not try altogether, figuring it’s better than being brutally killed.

Sitting you down, the man just smiles making a breath get caught in your throat. He’s still sensing your fear, so he just softly caresses your cheek again. For some odd reason, the action calmed you down slightly as you’re reminded of just how gentle he is with you. Just as quickly, he removed his hand and then he goes to grab the seat that is in front of his piano before placing it in front of you. That allows him to sit, letting him appear less threatening.

“I’m still really fucking pissed at you.” He suddenly says, completely catching you off guard.

“Why? What did I do?”

Your question comes out a bit shaky although it is clear that you are unknowingly becoming more comfortable in South’s presence.

“You still haven’t realized why I want you so bad, huh?”

He crosses his arms.

“I can’t imagine there’s anything about me that you’d like.”

“Really?”

His questioning is accompanied by a raised eyebrow and the same facial expression from earlier returns. You start to feel a cold sweat break out from the compromising position you are in and the fact that you’re still confused about what South is referring to.

“Think harder, sweetheart.”

He tells you and once again you try very hard to come up with a sufficient answer as to why he’s so smitten by you. Of course, there is no luck. Nothing. Absolutely nothing comes to mind. Feeling defeated, you shake your head, afraid of disappointing South again.

“I don’t know.” You muster out through your cracking voice.

“You’re the light to my dark world.”

He gives a slight hint but it still leaves you with more questions than potential answers.

“How when all I ever do is reject you because of how terrifying you are?”

South lets out another chuckle, confusing you even more. You’re wondering why hasn’t he lashed out after so many attempts to get you to answer his question.

“You have shit memory.”

His chuckle turns into a full-blown laugh, at this point. Seeing your confused expression as well as your attempts to find the answer has left him thoroughly entertained. You, on the other hand, are still feeling confused and now that he’s laughing in your face, you also start to feel irritated.

“Did you bring me all the way here just to pick on me?”

You ask him, and it was enough to simmer down his laughing fit just enough so he can provide an answer.

“No, sweetheart. I brought you here as part of our date.”

“This is a weird date, South.”

He lets out one final chuckle before returning to his serious expression. Doing that essentially caused the entire mood to change significantly. Grabbing your hand and rubbing his thumb over it, he asks you:

“You seriously don’t remember?”

“Remember what?”

The room falls silent and the only thing you hear is the man before you heaving out a sigh. Suddenly, he stands up while letting go of your hand. Your eyes follow his movement as he just walks away and towards the hallway of the apartment. You’re left completely alone, unsure if you should use the opportunity to leave or wait for South to come back.

You opted for the latter option, so you sat patiently as you twiddle your thumbs. You have no idea what to expect once he returns as there are so many possibilities. One final time, you try digging into your memory to at least find something that may be related to what South is talking about but once again, your mind draws a blank. Giving up, you just look over in the direction he went in, anticipating his return.

A few minutes later and you can hear his heavy footsteps getting louder meaning he’s coming back to you. What you did not expect was for him to be holding an object in his hand. Sitting back in the chair in front of you, he presents you with the object, which turns out to be a stuffed animal. A ping of familiarity sparks in your brain as you reach for it.

“It looks familiar, right?”

He asks, allowing you to hold it. You wasted no time examining the plushie, feeling slight nostalgia for your childhood. While doing so, you answer his question.

“Yea. I used to have one just like this when I was a kid. I named him Bubbles, and I remember Bubbles had my name stitched on the bottom of his foot…”

You pause once you look at the bottom of the stuffed animal’s foot. To your surprise, you see ‘Y/N’ threaded neatly.

“…just like that.”

It is silent momentarily as you try to process the fact that you are holding your childhood stuffed animal. Although you had many, Bubbles was your favorite as he brought you comfort.

“Where did you get him?” you ask South.

“You gave him to me a long time ago.”

Your body freezes up upon hearing his response. You gave Bubbles away many years ago and you remember that moment so vividly.

“I remember giving him away to a crying kid who just lost his mother.”

You follow up with your response as you think back to that day many years ago. You remember seeing a crying child who was upset about his bedridden mother dying. You remember offering Bubbles to him stating that the stuffed animal always helped you when you were upset. You remember the moment when that kid gave you a soft smile upon being comforted by you. You remember seeing that kid’s eyes, and despite being red and puffy from crying, you can see the yellow irises. Thinking about it now, those eyes look eerily familiar to the orbs of the man sitting in front of you now. Looking up, you see South staring back at you, and you finally notice those very same eyes.

“You remember now, sweetheart? Now you see what I mean when I say you are the light in my dark world?” he asks you.

For the first time since being in South’s presence, you smile.

“You were the only person who’s ever been kind to me. Not even the man who became my father figure brought me the level of comfort that you did. I couldn’t forget what you’ve done for me, and I’ve always wanted to properly thank you for it.”

“South, I-I am sorry for not remembering, but why did you keep him throughout all these years?”

You ask him as you’re confused about him holding onto a stuffed animal. You found that to be odd considering the kind of man he is. Nobody would expect a dangerous gangster who takes pleasure in fighting and killing would keep a teddy bear that was given to him by a stranger when he was a child. So again, why would he do it?

“So I’ll never forget you. Plus, I have plenty more in my bedroom. You were right, stuffed animals are comforting.”

He responds though you see red dusting his cheeks and the tips of his ears. Despite feeling embarrassed about his collection of plushies, South stares deep into your e/c eyes, finally getting lost in them. Everything goes silent once the tension between you two rises, and you’re unsure about how you should feel.

“South?”

You breathe out however, you barely had enough to process the man leaning forward. In no time, he presses his lips against yours and never in a million years did you ever think his lips would be so soft. The revelation and the sudden action made you forget about everything this man has done, and the kiss sent sparks throughout your entire body. Almost immediately, your hands found their way to his broad shoulders, touching him for the very first time.

Although you still fear him, you can’t help but admire him at the same time. In addition to being a very attractive man, you have to admit that he has also been the only person to show you kindness. Despite his murderous antics, you somehow feel safer with him than with any other person in the city as you know he would never hurt you. It took you this long to finally come to terms with that.

With the kiss getting deeper, you can feel your body heating up and South feels the same. Though it is difficult, he quickly separates from you, resisting the urge to ravage you on the couch. Instead, he opts for the slower approach, holding his hand out to you.

“Consider this as us making things official.” He chuckles.

You smile as well before setting Bubbles down on the couch. Without hesitation, you accept South’s hand standing up and quickly going onto his lap. Your face rests comfortably on his chest as his arms wrap around your much smaller body, engulfing you.

“Now that you’re finally mine, I want you to stay with me. I want to keep my light.” He says, rocking you back and forth slightly.

“I’m still scared of you.” You reply.

“I know but I promise I won’t hurt you.”

Sighing, you just hug him a little tighter, finally feeling content in his presence.

“There are a lot of things you need to work on if you want me to stay.”

Looking down, he smiles again feeling true happiness for the first time since meeting you. Although he’s a bit unsure if he’s able to comply with what he thinks you’re going to ask of him, South Terano will try his damndest to keep you happy no matter what. Having you in his arms made him realize his new resolve and that is the be the best man that he can be for you.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Scene!

Again, this was my very first time working on a slow-burn story so I am really curious about what you thought of it.

As for any future projects, I do have another one that I am working on. It is a slow burn as well. Toman will share their wildest sex stories, so if you wanna be on the taglist for that, let me know.

[friendly-neighborhood-imbecille]

Red-rumped agouti

Dasyprocta leporina

Family Dasyproctidae, infraorder Caviomorpha, order rodentia

Also known as the golden-rumped agouti, orange-rumped agouti and Brazilian agouti.

They live in bonded pairs, or family groups when they have children. They mate for life.

They eat seeds, pulp, leaves, roots and fruits. They also sometimes eat insect larvae when other food is unavailable.

They will eat brazil nuts and will often bury them for later, like squirrels.

They are generally between 3 and 5.9 kg (6.6 to 13 lbs), and grow to between 49 and 64 cm (19 to 25 in) long with tails no longer than 6 cm (2.4 in). Females are usually larger than males.

They communicate with grunts, squeals, screams, and body language.

They are crepuscular, like guinea pigs.

@jackalspine @fifiibibii

[sowsbelly]

Jabuticaba, also spelled Jaboticaba, is the edible fruit of the jabuticabeira (Plinia cauliflora) or Brazilian grapetree. The purplish-black, white-pulped fruit grows directly on the trunk of the tree, making it an example of 'cauliflory'. It is eaten raw or used to make jellies, jams, juice or wine. The tree, of the family Myrtaceae, is native to the states of Rio de Janeiro, Minas Gerais, Goiás and São Paulo in Brazil. Related species in the genus Myrciaria, often referred to by the same common names, are native to Brazil, Argentina, Paraguay, Peru and Bolivia.