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unohanabbygirl · 8 months

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Sorry for the late response to the latest chapter of FMN. Okay I feel like Luke deserves to get a punch in on Aemond when he gets his memories back, maybe a few actually for what Aemond said in the past, even if he was trying to cover up his heartbreak. Everything about Daemon’s POV is spot on and I love how you managed to accomplish that! So what I gathered is that Daemon is still the uncle of the Targtower kids and Rhaenyra is his first cousin, right? And my god, reading Luke’s files from the past was absolutely crushing. I really hope there’s a copy of that video on Luke’s mom or they find her because I feel like there will be a damning piece of evidence that might be key in Luke’s trial. I think I got all of the hints you dropped and let me tell you I am freaking out about what it all means and how it will all play out as the story continues. Also Aemma, love you lots, but not good timing. Excellent writing as always and much love!

Luke deserves to get in more than a punch after everything he’s been through both in the past AND the present. Anger is an understandable emotion and if anyone in owed to take a few hits out on their murderer it’s Luke. Regardless of the fact that deep down he still might want to give Aemond smooches.

Despite all of this I can’t help but feel that the saddest part is even if he beat Aemond black and blue, no physical hit could amount to even a fraction of the pain he’s experienced and will have to learn to work through in order to make life worth living. It’s the most bittersweet part of the whole story. Even when everything is set and done, everyone kisses and makes up and all that jazz, these things still happened to Luke and truly healing is a process that’ll take years.

I’m so happy that you liked Daemon’s pov! He’s such a hard character to make come to life from a realistic angle because he’s such a confusing man. He’s not a bad guy but he’s definitely no where near a good guy either. Its that perfect gray area which makes it hard to get a good read on him. He maims rapists which is amazing, but clearly has less than familial feelings for his 14yr old niece. He loves both of his wife’s and adores their children to death but had no problem killing his first wife who did nothing to him he give him the same attitude he gave her (in show canon at least since he wasn’t in the Vale when Rhae died in f&b) Yea, he killed a little boy, but this is a world that operates on rules similar to the old testament. An eye for an eye, a leg for a leg, a son for a son.

Personally I feel that some people either write him like a stereotypical evil villain while others make him too uncaring and laid back. So i’m glad that I hit that good spot in the middle.

You’re correct! His brother Travis is the green kids father making him their uncle while Rhaenyra is his first cousin on his aunts side. I wanted everyone to still have that close familial relationship by blood while still switching things up enough to make their new relation believable and fit the timeline.

There’s definitely a bigger plot playing out in the background and Luke’s mother is a key player. Everything from being the only person who knows Luke’s true father to getting that mysterious call from her his self-proclaimed sister and whatever lawyer was able to get her such a good get out of jail free card after how she treated Luke. Cathryne is an important puzzle piece who we can only hope will come out of hiding soon. (Or get dragged out 👀)

Lol, Aemma really chose the worst to show up didn’t she? Daemon’s world is falling apart as he tries to piece together his newly found sons past while his smartest most mature kids have decided to do the most idiotic thing ever and sneak into a club and get sloppy drunk + start a fight all while knowing that Luke is knee deep in serious legal trouble. Now isn’t the greatest time for grandma Aemma to pull up with homemade chocolate chip cookies 😭

I appreciate your sweet words babes. Much love to you too 🥰

#asks

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ka-writes · 3 years

Text

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Notes: haha I did a semi short chapter... sorry... also this is chapter 4 of my space AU..

ALSO READ THE DAMN WARNINGS. Thank you ☺️

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Incase you missed:

Chapter 1:

Chapter 2:

Chapter 3:

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Inspired by:

Humans are Space Velociraptors

By:FreshRoses_InMyGarden_NeedTheRain

Some kids come from storks, others come from crashed spaceships

By: mmmajora

Home Again, Home Again

By: teeth_eater

All works can be found on Ao3

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Warning: Mentions of abuse (physical verbal and sexual) there aren’t any graphic recalls it is simply mentions. Mentions of being beaten up. Mentions of knives and blood. Threatening characters, and character pain. Again characters being trapped and not going home. Cussing. Characters passing out. Characters being distressed characters being malnourished. Yea I kinda was in an angsty mode sooo.... here you go..

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Ao3 link:

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“Humans are [Add text here]”

Chapter 4: I guess it qualifies as an introduction?

Phil wasn’t expecting to wake up at 4 in the morning to the sound of laughter.

It wouldn’t be the first time, definitely not the last.

Curiously the avian poked his head into his kids’ room. The laughter wasn’t coming from the gardener, guard, or scientist. The laughter was coming from the assistant who wasn’t in their room. Phil turned his attention down the hall. Sure enough the laughter was louder. Quietly he made his way to the holding cell. Phil sat in a smaller hallway and decided to listen into the conversation… What can he say? He always eavesdropped..

“What even is a you-tube?” The assistant asked through small giggles. To that the human gasped as if he was hurt by the statement.

“You don’t have YouTube?! Or like an alien version of it?!” The human replied, not even trying to hide his shock.

“Erm no?”

“Well it’s like this thing that humans use to make really cool videos and stuff.”

“What’s a video?” Ranboo interrupted.

“They’re kinda like moving photos that usually work as a sort of entertainment or info dump. I could probably tell you thousands of the times my stupid teacher made me watch ‘educational’ videos..”

“So they’re kinda like illusions?”

“Yea but you don’t see 'em in 3D. As I was saying, before I was rudely interrupted..” The enderian let out a small squeak of embarrassment at that, “YouTube is like a thing people use to post videos on. I am totally making an alien version of YouTube when I get out.” The air stiffened at that.

“Tommy.. you probably won’t get out for a while…” Ranboo said, Phil heard one of them shift and the entire atmosphere lost it’s warmth, “It’s not like you won’t get out! It’s just hard… especially when no one really trusts you yet.” Ranboo swallowed, as he usually does when he is uncomfortable, “Even when we let you out of the holding cell.. you probably won’t be allowed off the ship. It’s too dangerous for all of us..” the two fell into a deafening silence. Phil shivered at the tension, making sure to be silent while doing so.

“I assumed as much…” the human started, being the first to break the silence, “I-I… I guess I won’t be going home either… since the ISF absolutely hates us.. plus like you said, only already crazy humans are sent back..” the human sighed sadly.. For the first time Phil felt sympathetic towards a human. With that he decided it was time to start on breakfast.

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Three things happened after Tubbo woke up.

One, Ranboo passed out at the table. Phil simply shook his head and picked up the enderian with some unknown strength to the rest of the crew.

Two, a scream was heard from the other side of the ship, causing Wilbur to frantically run to the holding cell.

Three, Techno put his milk in before he poured his tea… I mean who does that?

Ignoring the last strange thing, Tubbo went to check on Ranboo. He was fine, so Phil said. “He only needs rest. Leave them be.” Was what Tubbo got as he peered into the enderian’s room. Shrugging off the weird behavior Tubbo made his way to the garden.

Before he made his way to the garden he noticed the human wasn’t in the holding cell. That meant he was probably in the lab… Which meant Tubbo would have to meet him.. Oh prime no. That’s not gonna happen.

He started sprinting to the garden. It was just passed the lab if only he took another step-

“Tubbo, I need your help.” Wilbur said from behind him. The droneling turned around reluctantly. Holding his breath he made his way into the medical part of the lab.

[gore and distressed characters, skim if you need to]

There, laying on the bed, was a human. He held back a scream which came out as a labored gasp. Sweat was bubbling on his forehead. With that he turned to Wilbur who examined the human from a distance.

“Go get some bandages and the stitching kit.” Wilbur commanded. Without hesitation Tubbo ran to grab the items. Wilbur took both objects and disinfected a bad cut on the human’s arm. He hadn’t even realized there was a cut until Wilbur cleared off the strange red blood. Wilbur then proceeds to stitch the wound and bandage the irritated wound.

That’s when Tubbo noticed the amount of blood the human lost. Most species wouldn’t be able to handle that much blood loss, but here was the beast of the galaxy, completely fine in a matter of minutes after losing quite a bit of blood.

[End]

When Wilbur was satisfied, he picked the human up and carried him back to the holding cell. Tubbo was unable to stop himself from following. Before thinking the droneling sat at the table and watched as Wilbur finished cleaning the human.

“Er.. do you want me to grab Techno so you can stay in here?” Wilbur asked, noticing Tubbo sitting in the corner.

Without saying a word Tubbo gave a small nod. Wil didn’t push like he usually did and left to get Techno.

Tubbo got up and approached the sleeping human. He was skinnier than what Tubbo thought humans should be. There were odd dark circles under his eyes and his hair clearly hadn’t had a good wash for what looked like months. He had injuries over his body and was practically shaking in his sleep.

Since Tubbo was preoccupied, he barely noticed Techno enter, or the door closing. Let alone the clangs and thuds from other crew mates.

He was preoccupied by the strange human who was sleeping in front of him.

The human stirred and the droneling stumbled away.

After a few seconds the human sat up and looked at the now fallen droneling.

“What the fuck?”

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Tommy didn’t expect another alien to push their luck in his space. But here he was.

The alien was smaller than Tommy by a lot. Further proving Tommy was the biggest man. Unlike the other aliens this one wasn’t threatening upon first glance.

The one from last night had been way more intimidating at first. Being way taller than Tommy and having weird lanky limbs and magical purple glowing orbs surrounding them. They had horns and a half and half complexion. One half of the alien being white with grey and purple freckles along with a red eye. The other half being a purplish black with grey and green freckles along with a green eye. They wore a suit with a red tie and dress shoes. He also had two tails of the same colors as his complexion. All of this being forgotten after they stammered through their introduction. It was honestly hilarious.

This alien was very different from the others. They had brown messy hair, encasing black antennas and small black bumps that resembled horns. Their skin was a honey peach color and practically glistened. There were strange hexagon patterns over their face along with three black stripes on either side of their face. They had bee wings, which was the only thing Tommy could relate to the alien too. There was also a black fuzzy tail, similar to a stinger, poking out of their pants. Their hands were lanky and pointed, completely black. There was also soft yellow fuzz poking out of their sleeves and holes in their pants. They wore ripped jeans along with a long sleeved green button down shirt. Their eyes were another thing entirely, being a honey brown in certain light but could also shift to a greenish blue in other light. They had fly-like pupils.

After a minute of them sitting in an awkward stance the alien got up. Using their wings to properly position them in a standing position. They brushed themselves off and approached Tommy.

“You lay a finger on anyone here and I will kill you. Understand?” The alien said, any intimidation that was lost from the alien falling was regained in an instant. The alien poked him in the chest with one of the lanky fingers, which started burning like acid after a minute.

Since Tommy was too, sacred, poggers to move he simply nodded, which is absolutely the best response to the situation. Sadly the alien didn’t get the gesture and dug their nail into his chest even more. Seriously, it was starting to really burn.

“Y-yes.” Was all Tommy could muster. The alien was satisfied with the answer and let go of Tommy. They walked out of the now open door. Shortly after Techno followed the door closing behind him. Tommy never realized the other alien was in the room.

[Mentions of abuse]

For a split second the interaction reminded him of his dad.

The way his dad did the same thing to his mom when she didn’t listen.

Or when his sister didn’t follow his dad’s friend.

Or when Tommy made a mistake.

Except instead of a nail, it was glass, or a punch, or sometimes a knife…

[End]

He shook off the thoughts and reminded himself that the aliens weren’t his father, nor were they going to do that to him.

They wouldn’t do that right?.. Right?

Tommy slapped his face, only to find there were silent tears flowing down his cheeks. He quickly wiped his cheeks and continued his train of thought.

Tommy trusted too easily. That in the end is how at nine he ended up getting beat up in his first foster home. He condemned himself for trusting the aliens. They were strangers. He knew nothing of them and they knew more about him. This was the moment in which Tommy shut himself off. Where he regained the ability to leave his blind trusting instincts.

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Chapter 4- End

Words: 1633

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Notes: I didn’t know what to add next so I decided to leave you here. Your welcome! <3

Again hope you enjoyed! Now go eat food, drink water, take a shower if you haven’t, and go to sleep. Stay safe, love ya! <3

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Tubbo: *falls out of fear

Tommy: ._. This dude ain’t intimidating

Tubbo: *threatens Tommy

Tommy: ,:^ never mind then...

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Reminder likes are appreciated but reblogs are better!!

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#tommy mcyt #dream smp fanfiction #my fanfic tag #my writing #wilbur soot #tubbo #ranboo #technoblade #philza #angst #reblog #;-;#space au

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eeriefeelingsat3amuwu · 4 years

Text

What were the octopus and the spider doing?

Characters: Remus, Virgil (Sanders Sides), Janus mention, Roman mention- minor spoilers for SvS Redux

Tw: cursing, blood, slight gore (it’s Remus, what do you expect)

Relationships: platonic Dukexiety because it’s my JAM bro

Genre: Idk man, fluff? Something like that but not quite as fluffy? Just...my boys doing shit together

Like, dudes, I love these two idiots, they’re my boiis and I would kill for them. Enjoy...this and I apologize for any mistake that was made by me being a clueless Europian Who’s shit with English spelling. Especially double letters. Ugh.

Virgil was laying on his bed listening to one of his playlists and being really bored. He didn’t wanna show face up there because everything hurt (physicaly, for once) and he just wasn’t in the mood to deal with the others’ shit right now. He fucking hated everything. The wedding was a total disaster and he had to keep Thomas’ head down during it, so he was tired. He very well knew that the callback would’ve been a better choice, but that would be siding with Janus and he kinda hated him. A...lot of stuff happened between the two of them and they had a falling out a few months back, so they acted like bitches around each other now. So, thanks to that, he was exhausted, everything hurt and he was done™️, all because he held a grudge. He sometimes really hated himself. So he just started singing along to the songs and pulled out his sewing kit and a dress he was working on right now and just got himself into work. He was so lost in the music and work that he hadn’t heard another side pop up in his room. And so he was notified of Remus’ presence only when he threw a hand on him. Just. A hand. He screamed and fell off the bed. “Jesus fuck!”| “Remus would be just enough Virgey.” answered Remus with a smug smirk. “Oh fuck off bitch! And why are you even here? Shouldn’t you be, like, driving Deceit crazy or laying in a ditch full of mud and blood by now?” Remus snorted as he leaned down, grabbed the hand of off the bed and placed it back on his wrist, moving it around until the bone clicked back. “Well, I don’t know what you’ve been doing down here, but Double D went up there,” he said pointing towards the ceiling, “and laying in a ditch seems boring, so I came to either A: annoy the shit out of you; or B: beat your Just Dance high score. It’s up to you emo.” Virgil rolled his eyes snapping his fingers (placing his dress safely in the closet) and stood up, dusting his hoodie. “That ain’t fair Dukey, you’re gonna annoy me whatever I choose. So, I present this: we beat Janice’s high score in Just Dance, since he’s still better then the both of us, and if they ain’t done by then I’ll show you a few pieces of clothing I’ve been working on recently and we’ll have a show. How ‘bout that?”| “Great ideas Virge. I approve! And...I’ll be there first!” he screamed and took a running start towards the door. Virgil yelped and ran out behind him. They raced down the hallway towards the Dark Side commons and it looked like Remus was winning, but there was one place where they needed to turn left and since Remus was running really quickly, he rammed right into the wall whilst Virgil summoned his spider arms and swung like Spider-man around the corner, landing in front of the sofa. Remus groaned and got up from the floor stumbling over to Virgil and patting him on the back before colapsing on the floor again, face down this time.

“Yo Re, you alive?” asked Virgil poking him with his foot. “Ughhhhhh, fckng waaall, tht wsn’t fairrr.” could be heard from Remus. Virgil turned him around and helped him get up, laughing out loud when he noticed that he broke his nose. He grabbed it and with the words “Dude, don’t cum please.” snapped it back into position. Remus groaned, but thankfuly obliged Virgil’s request. The two of them were playing Just Dance for the next half an hour or so until they FINALY defeated Janus’ high score by switching when one of them got tired in the middle of the song. They cheered and then a loud bang could be heard from upstairs. They screeched like the demons that they were and jumped onto each other. “What the fuck was that?!” Virgil screamed as soon as the sound stopped, his voice warped. “I don’t have a fucking clue, but I sincerly hope that Jany deals with it before it comes down here and eats us alive like fucking oysters leaving only our skin!”| “That isn’t helping you cunt!”| “I know! Sorry, defense mechanism.”| “I know, sorry, I’m KiNdA stressed right now!”| “Please stop screaming.”| “Sorry...”| “Yea...could we maybeee go to your room? It’s a bit more soundproof then the commons.”| “Oh sure! Let’s go.” Virge said and teleported them.

He exhaled with relief when they landed in his room and went to the closet. “Let’s just do this shit. Still better then going up there.”| “Agreed. And you are actually really good at making clothes. What am I gonna wear? Skin? Uncleaned fur? Dead bees?”| “No. You’re gonna be wearing a dress Rere. I’m not making them out of dead bees. If you’re a good bitch and don’t rip them/ cover them in blood or any other substances, I’ll let you do my nails after. Deal?”| “Deal! Oh! Are they long? Maybe I could use them to scare the shit out of Roman in his beaaauuutiful castle...I should write that down!” Remus said and snapped a torn up notebook into his hand along with a pen. He poked himself in the thumb with said pen and used his blood as a filling, writing down three or four lines. Virgil could see only a few words (Remus wasn’t known for his amazing handwriting), but even with the words he did see, he knew that maybe he should stop by Roman’s room afterwards and tell him that he probably shouldn’t stay in the imagination during the next full moon. He pulled the dress out of the closet and checked them. Everything seemed to be fine, but one can never be too careful, so he checked the inside as well and grabbed a tape measure, measuring Remus’ chest, hips and waist. After he was sure everything was fine, he gave him the dress. Remus looked at them and actually stayed silent for a while, so Virgil counted it as a win on his part. Remus then jumped into the dress and got tangled up in the cloth, falling to the ground. Virgil snickered, helped him up and untangled him, moving the dress so that they would fit better. After he was done he turned around and gave Remus a pair of shoes to go along with the dress and when he put them on, turned to look at him. He nodded to himself. Re looked good. The dress was made from a lot of different layers of green cloth, each of them in their own shade of the colour. They were short, only going down towards the knees, but one part of the dress were black leggins, which went all the way down. The skirt was layered and looked like a flower, with multiple layeres of green in the bottom and a black overcoat on the top; the top of the dress was made from black leather with neon green laces tightening it. The sleeves were puffed and made from two types of cloth - a silky dark green that made up the sleeve and a seethrough lime green on top, slightly scrunched up. Neither the sleeves nor the skirt would be restraining any movement, so they were both pretty and practical. The boots that went with them were tall and black going almost all the way up to the knees and they had neon green laces - they looked the same as the top of the dress. They had platforms, but no heels, again, made to slay with style (and slay dragon witches without tripping over something, it is Remus we are talking about). Remus’ eyes actually sparkled when he saw how he looked in said dress and he twirled around, laughing when the skirt spinned. Yes, he was obnoxious, loud, had a very specific style and most of his thoughts and ideas were gross, but that didn’t mean that he hated looking cute. He was actually very soft, but he rarely let anyone see that. Virgil been knew tho. Like, what would you expect? He grew up with him and even though they were supposed to hate each other now, they were still best friends. And that won’t change. There was this one night, a pretty long time ago, Virgil still lived with the ‘Dark Sides’ and he and Remus were sitting in a tree, laughing about some new prank they pulled on Janus (hence why they were in a tree and not inside), when Remus looked at Virgil and told him: “You’re my brother, right? You might not be Roman, we might not be related, but you’re my brother!” And Virgil, even though he was a bit surprised by this, responded with a “Yep!” And that hasn’t changed.

Tags: @nyamafriend @exhaustedauthor @definietlynotsatan

#virgil sanders #remus sanders #platonic dukexiety #svs redux #singing #just dance #boys in dresses #what even is this #idk man #a little bit of fluff #brothers from another mothers #lol #don’t know how to put that sentence in plural

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qualitytacolover · 4 years

Text

Megan Thee Stallion Hair is a symbol of pride for black women anime fans

New Post has been published on https://www.easypromhairstyles.com/megan-thee-stallion-hair-is-a-symbol-of-pride-for-black-women-anime-fans.html

Megan Thee Stallion Hair is a symbol of pride for black women anime fans

The highly anticipated release of Megan Thee Stallion's debut album Fever (May 17) has doubled as a national holiday for your sultry and self-confident fanbase. Although hip-hop heavyweight Juicy J and newcomer DaBaby make appearances, the Houston-bred "hot girl" remains the center of the show. And that's how we like it.

Megan's rise was one of the books. In early 2017, she catapulted into fame after attending a hip-hop cipher at Texas A & M University. People all over the country quickly noticed their conscious, deep-drawn river and so their fans, called "hotties", were born. Fast forward to 2019, and you stallion has hosted your own Spotify event, found fans, Rihanna, Kehlani, and SZA, and continues to release hard-hitting freestyles and other repeatable bodies of work.

She is also the first rapping woman signed at 300 Entertainment, home of Young Thug and formerly Migos. But with each ascent comes a humming crew of haters. One of the first sightings of this sad collective, properly known as "hotties," came in March when she shared a photo of her half-white, half-radiant red hair.

TODOROKI TINA pic.twitter.com/NSuvkATAxZ

– HOT GIRL MEG (@theestallion) April 22, 2019

The title was "TODOROKI TINA", a reference to the My Hero Academia character, Shoto Todoroki. Although a considerable number of people celebrated Megan's love for anime, there were those who questioned their affinity, men. For example, Twitter user @CourtneeHendrix user wrote, "No way Meghan the stallion watch anime. Your public relations team is firing. "

@TrippyTrxv also shared, "ngga yea i want to know what anime megan you stallion watches. Why? bc i love the shI and I like you. If she does not really see it, but dresses in anime halfway cosplay, I would be hurt. I would still do your music fw maybe tho. "Ultimately, these reactions ask the question: what would the stallion gain by showing people that he has fun?

The targeted criticism of naysayers is, to say the least, frustrating. After all, she's not the only woman who shares her love for anime (look at Southern rap goddesses Bbymutha and Purp Goddess), nor is she the first rapper, male or female, ever to do it. Emcees like Lupe Fiasco, Robb Bank $ and Migos' launch are also anime fans but have not been criticized to the same extent. If flagrant racist sexism is not the culprit, then what?

After the Global History of Anime, the first anime was probably released during World War I and created by Shimokawa Oten. The short, colorless rolls of film were either "disassembled", "disintegrated" or "destroyed", so little is known about the early days of this art form. Over the next few decades, anime developed into longer animations, with sound and color to boot. A report by Marwah Zagzoug states that during World War II, the Japanese government took control of the arts by threatening the artists who had also criticized the government. Those who disagreed with the new orders were forbidden to write and pushed to the margins of society. But those who stayed were supplied with artists' companies, militarized and charged with anti-propaganda propaganda.

After the war, anime finally returned to its original purpose: an outlet for joy and honest expression. One of the first visuals that had great success was the full-length feature Hakujaden (The Tale of the White Serpent), which also produced an American adaptation in 1961. Although Global History states that this was not the first crossover, it proved that anime could be a lucrative industry. Finally, television expanded its reach and consumption ballooned in the 1980s with the release of Dragon Ball, the third best selling manga ever. The introduction of Dragon Ball Z and Sailor Moon in the 1990s soon followed and until then, anime had become the monolithic Global Phenomenon that continues to generate revenue and inspire people of all ages. The Black community is a proud and important part of your loyal fanbase, and women have always been just as invested as men.

The "I liked it before it was mainstream" statement is still a pretty youthful, 2011 Tumblr-era vibe.

Although easy-to-find literature and the Internet have undoubtedly enhanced the profile of this art form, the statement "I liked it before it was mainstream" is still a rather youthful, 2011 Tumbler era sentiment. Unfortunately, there are people who continue to operate out of this logic and in the case of anime, the culprit party is mostly men. When it comes to Megan Thee stallion and her hairstyles specifically, you either wanted to prove to you that she is really interested in or just did not believe that she was even interested. How dare to invest in an attractive, popular, talented black woman in it?

It's another reminder that people continue to pursue the hobbies of black women, no matter what they are. So much so that the stallion himself addressed the controversy in an interview with XXL: "You must stop thinking that way. Poor B * tches may also like anime. "Luckily, a number of supporters, Black Women, have not been afraid to defend Megan and also speak their peace.

"It felt really good to me [weil die Leute] have this misunderstanding .. that black girls did not see anime like black guys when most of us had the same channels and caught the same Miguzi or Toonami block lol after school, "says Taylor, who pokers on @ sheisresting on Twitter , "We were definitely separated from the American anime wave back then. It was fulfilling to see a black female rapper with one such..mainstream potential not only acknowledge anime, but also call himself a fan, while loosely cosplaying your favorite characters. I had the feeling that there are also many black cosplayers who are constantly being told that you can not disguise themselves as Japanese characters because you have the wrong color. "

Taylor was not alone. In fact, over 100 responded when I asked a tweet for black women who were fans of anime and Megan thee stallion. User @dualityofman wrote: ".. I thought your hair would be cool! I'm from Texas and I live in Houston, so I have a lot to do with her. Their liking anime was just another thing we had in common … .I feel like many men hate to see women happy and enjoy things. It's as if you could not call you ugly because it's obviously NOT YOU. Can not say that she is untalented because she is just near everyone [Männer]comes out. She can not insult your intelligence because she is at school. So, let's SH * t like you for anime. I'm just looking for a reason to be mad at a black woman. "

Todoroki Tina

pic.twitter.com/nXycHk0izm

– HOT GIRL MEG (@theestallion) April 1, 2019

Misogynoir is a term used by the black feminist Moya Bailey and is intended to emphasize the way black men interact negatively with black women. It is also part of the root problem Black men have with Megan Thee stallion music, looks, interests and behavior. What confuses you most is your conviction about it. You can not believe that you are interested in anime, and you hate it for it.

Also worthy of note is the close relationship of Japan to the Black community outlined by Cecilia D 'Anastasio for Vice. It has included the mistreatment of mixed-speed (Japanese and Black) people and in the context of anime, a tiny number of non-stereotypical depictions of Black people. Japan is also notorious for its ubiquitous use of Blackface, which made headlines last year. D 'Anastasio notes that regardless of all these racial crimes, blacks continue to cherish anime and honor him through cosplay and songs.

Rare moments that acknowledge the enduring power of Japanese animation and an underrated part of your fanbase should happen more often.

In 2016, writer Amber Dixon also talked about the hurtful separations she saw and experienced as a black anime fan. These include observing brown skin as a metaphor for dark energy in Sailor Moon, the minstrel – like face of Mr. Popo in Dragon Ball Z and Blackface, to cosplay black characters. Like D 'Anastasio, Dixon continues in the worship of Anime Fort and notices the early and emotional connection she felt specifically with Sailor Moon.

Twitter user @imninm adds, "I know more black girls who see anime more than any race or gender. Personally, I have anime look as I could remember, from Pokemon, Yu-Gi-Oh, Sailor Moon, Hamtaro, Dragonball Z. I never felt like it was showing a "boy" or anything like that. I just liked what I saw and I still do. "In other words, anime will always have a special place in the hearts of female viewers, including high-profile rappers like Megan Thee Stallion.

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Bulma Snow

Make up @akilaface

A post shared by Hot Girl Meg (@theestallion) on Apr 22, 2019 at 5:57 pm PDT

In November 2018, and again this past April, she emphasized her devotion with a different hairstyle inspired by Bulma, a predominant character in Dragon Ball (the first is Goku). This time, instead of an overwhelming amount of criticism, Megan's cascading, Seafoam green locks initiated a tender co-sign from FUNimation, a dubbing and distribution company. "Love the style!" Wrote the company, with a cutesy gif attached by Bulma. Rare moments that acknowledge the enduring power of Japanese animation and an underrated part of your fanbase should happen more often.

Men should be proud that such a celebrity woman like the stallion shares a common ground with you, increases solidarity, and makes room for even more people to become fans. It could also force certain men to accept that women did not want to interact with you or go out because they were nerds, but because they were unbearable. Conscientiousness, happy black, female fans and good music? Thanks, Megan. Stream fever now.

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hannahindie · 7 years

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Country Roads, Take Me Home: Chapter 1

Characters: Dean Winchester, Sam Winchester, Reader Word Count: 2,083 Warnings: Not much for this chapter, mostly homesickness. A/N: Although I’ve not had to move away from my home state, I tend to feel drawn to our more mountainous areas, and I wanted to share that love with all of you. Also, I think most people can relate to missing home, or whatever you consider as home. I am also writing this for @ravengirl94′s 1.5 follower challenge, although the the prompt won’t show up until part 3. (This got out of control real quick; whoops. lol) I also made the aesthetic for this, so I’m working on those skills too. lol

This was beta’d by @trexrambling - “I sense shenanigans.” And also @pinknerdpanda - “I love the slow reveal of what happened. You're like rationing out the information and I love it.”

Thank you, my lovelies. You’re the best and help my words make sense.

As always, tags are at the bottom and if you’d like to be added, please let me know. Feedback is always welcome.

Country roads, take me home To the place I belong West Virginia, mountain momma Take me home, country roads

There’s a saying back home, “You can take the girl out of the mountains, but you can’t take the mountains out of the girl.” Truer words have never been spoken, and as I’m standing on the roof of the bunker and looking out over the mostly flat landscape of Lebanon, my heart aches for the rolling hills and deep hollers of West Virginia. I’ve been gone for years, and it’s usually something I can ignore, but this time of year it is especially hard.

One of my favorite parts of growing up in Appalachia, surrounded by mountains, was when September hit. Depending on where you lived the time frame differed, but between September and October the leaves would change and the mountains were painted with bright yellows and burnt oranges and deep crimsons. You could start in the northern part of the state and move south and you’d never see the same patterns twice. One day everything would be green, and the next you’d start seeing the different colors begin to leak through. West Virginia is a painter’s dream. I wish I could describe exactly how it felt to overlook the New River Gorge during peak leaf changing time, but it was breathtaking. Between the white water rapids flowing quickly beneath the bridge, that at one time was the world’s longest single-span arch bridge, and the mountains surrounding the area, it was breathtaking even during the summer months. But fall...it was transformed into a dream.

But I wasn’t in West Virginia anymore. I hadn’t been home for a long time. I never really said that I would never go back; I still spoke to a couple of friends that had remained there, but the opportunity never really showed itself. If I was being honest with myself, I was purposely avoiding it. Since Sam and Dean had found me half dead and alone in the home I’d grown up in, I’d stayed with them. I didn’t have much to go back to, and I’m not exactly the best at confronting my problems head on. But then fall rolls around and my heart yearns for dirt roads and trees the color of flames, and cool, crystal clear streams flowing over smooth, mossy stones.

I took a sip of coffee and savored the bitter liquid as it rolled across my taste buds and spread warmth through me. I have never liked coffee, but after living with Sam for awhile I found that 5 a.m. came early, and if I ever hoped to survive such torture I was going to need the caffeine.

“Y/N?” Sam’s low voice startled me from my thoughts, and I glanced over at him standing in the doorway to the roof.

“Hey, Sam.”

He slowly walked over to join me, “Why are you up here so early?”

I shrugged and looked back towards the sunrise that was painting the landscape in beautiful reds and oranges, “Couldn’t sleep. Might as well get my day started, we’ve got a lot of researching to do.”

I could feel him staring at me as he waited for the real answer, but when it didn’t come I saw him lean his elbows against the high wall of the roof and sigh. “You know you can talk to me, right? You don’t always have to be so….stoic.”

I laughed quietly, “Stoic? I’m not Dean. I just...you guys have enough to worry about, and there’s nothing wrong. Really.”

Sam looked over at me, his hazel eyes dark. It was hard not to just spill out all my feelings and secrets when he looked at me like that. “You need to learn how to lie better, Y/N. Because from where I’m standing, that’s a shitty reason and you know it.”

I sighed. As much as I tried to hide myself from both Winchesters, I had obviously failed. They were too smart for that and well versed in denial and hidden feelings. They could write a book on the subject. I took another sip of coffee, then sat the mug on the wall and wrapped my arms around myself. “I miss home.”

Sam straightened and turned to face me, “Home? I’ve not heard you mention it since we brought you here… Do you miss it that much?”

“I don’t know, Sam. Yes and no.” I sat down on one of the lawn chairs I had dragged up to the roof a long time ago and leaned my head in my hand, “I don’t miss everything, you know? I’ve got a couple of friends that I still talk to back east...I don’t really miss home so much. I miss the mountains, I miss how they look like they’re on fire when the leaves change, I miss walking barefoot in rivers and creeks. I miss having bonfires whose sole purpose isn’t to burn the people we love. I miss things not being so...flat.”

I looked up at the sky as I forced back tears. I’m not sure why talking about it was making it worse, but it suddenly felt like my chest was about to burst. All I truly wanted was to walk the boardwalk through Cranberry Glades or carefully navigate the wooden walkways through Beartown. “I’m sorry...it’s not usually this bad. It’s just this time of year...fall was my favorite thing when I was home.” I laughed, “Haunted houses, especially. How ironic, right?”

Sam smiled and gently put a hand on my knee, “You could have just told us, Y/N. I mean, I doubt we would have done much about the haunted houses, but we could have taken you home.” He paused, his eyebrows furrowed, and took a deep breath, “Do you….do you want to leave? We never really asked you. You know you can go whenever, right?”

I put my hand over his and gave it a soft squeeze, “Sam, I wouldn’t trade living here with you guys for anything in this world. I just think...maybe it’s time I go back for a visit. I’ve avoided it for a long time and I think my heart knows it’s time.” I stood up and pulled Sam with me, “You know, it’s weird...I’ve heard people say that they can feel the sea calling, that it’s just something they feel in their bones, like an ache or an itch that can’t be scratched. I always thought it was kind of silly, but I think I get what they mean.”

Sam shoved his hands in his pockets and looked at me carefully, “When are you leaving?”

“I think I should probably go soon. It’s a long way home. If I leave today, then I can take my time once I’m there.” Sam looked down at his shoes and my heart ached for a different reason. “I’ll come back, Sam. How would you and Dean make it without me, anyway? He irons with beer instead of water, for God’s sake.”

Sam laughed, “Yea…we’re kind of a mess when we’re left alone. We’ll miss you, you know.”

I smiled, “I know. I’ll miss you too. Now come on, I’ll fix us some breakfast before I pack up and head out. Sound good?” He nodded and led the way from the roof, and I realized just how much I was going to miss them both...especially Sam.

I stood and looked around my room, searching for anything that I may have missed that I would have needed. After making sure that I had packed all the essentials, I grabbed my bag and wandered down the hall and into the library. It was empty and eerily silent, especially since that was usually where I found Sam. I sat my bag down on the table and walked up the steps and into the war room; no Sam or Dean. I made my way into the kitchen, “Sam? Dean?” The dishes from breakfast had already been washed and were sitting in the drying rack, the towel neatly folded next to them, but the room was empty. Where the hell were they?

I went back to the library and grabbed my bag, then slowly made my way to the garage. When I’d arrived at the bunker, I had wandered into the garage one day while I was exploring and found an old motorcycle that had clearly been well taken care of and then abandoned when the Men of Letters were no more. I had never ridden a motorcycle before, had no idea how they worked or how to fix them, but I’d immediately been drawn to it. I hadn’t had much to say to Sam and Dean back then; I hadn’t had much to say to anyone. So instead of talking to the people who had rescued me or making myself useful, I had gone online and ordered a book about motorcycles and how to repair them. I had spent the next two months reading and going through diagrams and fixing things as they came up. Once it was up and running again, I had taken it out and taught myself to ride.

I lost count of how many times I came home bloody and bruised, but Sam and Dean never said a word. On occasion, one of them would have to patch me up if I couldn’t reach it, but that was the extent of it. For months I didn’t speak to them; it was just me and my motorcycle. Eventually, I began to open up. We started to have conversations, and I started to tag along on hunts. Rather than always riding my motorcycle, I joined them in the Impala. I still loved that motorcycle, though, and would sometimes take off on my own. Which was why, when I realized that I had to leave, I decided to take the motorcycle. I immediately made a beeline for it when I hit the entrance to the garage and jumped when I heard a voice behind me.

“Just going to leave without saying anything?”

I turned around and glared at Dean, who was leaning against Baby, “That wasn’t my plan, but you and your brother just disappeared. Afraid I was going to steal the Impala?”

Dean laughed, “Nah, nothing like that.” He pushed himself away from the car and walked over to where I stood, my bag balanced precariously on the bike. “Really going, huh?” I nodded but didn’t say anything. “I get it, you know. Back when we were looking for Dad and Sam was having his visions...he said we had to go home. Difference was, I didn’t want to. It didn’t stop that feeling of needing to go, though. I hadn’t spent a lot of time there either, so it’s not like I felt like I was missing anything...mine was more of a ‘confront my demons’ kind of thing. Literally.” He crossed his arms as he stared at me, “You don't have to go alone, you know. It's not like anything is happening around here.”

I shook my head, “Dean, I couldn't ask you guys to do that. It's a long trip, and you'd be bored out of your mind. What if something came up?”

He shrugged, “We aren't the only hunters. The best, yes. The only ones, no.” He grabbed my bag and began walking back towards the Impala, “Sammy and I already discussed it, so it wasn't a question. More of a statement, really. Now come on. You said it, we've got a hell of a drive.”

I watched him throw my bag into the back seat and walk around to the driver’s side just as Sam ran up the steps to the garage. He looked at me and smiled, “I brought snacks, and I found this awesome podcast-”

I heard Dean groan from the car, “Come on! And also, no podcasts. Driver picks the music, remember? I'm not listening to some boring dude talk about the ancient Greeks and how they were responsible for how we raise crops in present day, or some shit.”

Sam looked at me and rolled his eyes, then tossed his bag in the trunk, slammed it shut, and climbed into the front seat where he immediately began to explain to Dean why his podcast choices were so important.

Although I couldn't help but smile and thank whatever fate brought me these two selfless men, I knew that the next couple of days were probably going to be the longest of my life. Thank goodness for headphones.

Read Chapter 2 HERE.

Forever Tags: @trexrambling @pinknerdpanda @wheresthekillswitch @emilywritesaboutdean @arryn-nyxx @emptywithout @escabell @charliebradbury1104 @jarpadandjensenaremyheroes @deanssweetheart23 @canadianjelly @super-not-naturall @aubreyreadsstuff @dean-winchesters-baby @melissaj616 @fandomismyspiritanimal @keepcalmandcarryondean @assbutt-still-in-hell @owllover123 @rosie-winchester @amionthetumbler @duubaduu @hiimaprofessionalfangirl @goldenolaf25 @authoressskr @nanie5 @mrssamfuckingwinchester @zincomms @kathaswings @crazynerdandproud @barbedwireandbubblegum

#Ravengirl's 1.5K Challenge #supernatural fanfiction #sam winchester #dean winchester #reader insert #country roads

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easynaturalhairstyle · 4 years

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Megan Thee Stallion Hair is a symbol of pride for black women anime fans

TODOROKI TINA pic.twitter.com/NSuvkATAxZ

– HOT GIRL MEG (@theestallion) April 22, 2019

The "I liked it before it was mainstream" statement is still a pretty youthful, 2011 Tumblr-era vibe.

Todoroki Tina

pic.twitter.com/nXycHk0izm

– HOT GIRL MEG (@theestallion) April 1, 2019

Rare moments that acknowledge the enduring power of Japanese animation and an underrated part of your fanbase should happen more often.

View this post on Instagram

Bulma Snow

Make up @akilaface

A post shared by Hot Girl Meg (@theestallion) on Apr 22, 2019 at 5:57 pm PDT

Megan Thee Stallion Hair is a symbol of pride for black women anime fans

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11toe11-blog · 4 years

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No autocorrect. e for stickie

“Thats such a good lesson. On patience” he says. After yanking out two of the sapota seeds he had to lovingly planted. Its sticking out of the mud, may be i should pushi it back inside, something is not right, let me pull it out and see whats going on he must have thought. And the two of the early earnets, reposnding to his watering dropped dead. Thats the garden as the zen master i suppose.

The very change that we water and nourish, when it starts expressing, we wonder why it is not how it is supposed to be - familiar, buried deep in the soil and my role to keep watering. Or final, green and with a leaf on it. The inbetweens where its neither this or that, uncertain. I assume im a doing something wrong.

I notice that as a programme running when i am doing my body work. A sense that i am not paying attention where i should be paying attention. I notice the feeling and when it dissolves more attention is generally availble and flowing.

I am feeling like now. Oh! This is not what i wanted to start the post with.

Its because R is around. Otherwise i would be more contemplative. I should have this, i should have that. I havent this, i havent that.

And its not entirely just the whiner programme. Had i woken up early i would ahve had more quiet time. But for that i have to sleep early.

Now that it is what it is, i didnt sleep early, i didnt wake up early, things arent going picture perfect, but they are not bad either. A chunck of the sticky can see that. Its sticking. Stuck like resin onto how it should have been. This is the cant-let-it-go resin. Can let anything go. Want to stick to everything and anything passing by. Like an ocptopus with a million legs and holding on to everyhthing passing by and being pulled in infiinte direction.s

Imagine if it suddenly lets go, what a whack it would get from all its legs combined recoil.

Methi paratha. Would go very well with the garlic pickle he is making.

Where is this

Where is that

Incessant. Wont look. Cant see.

I havent been making sprouts for a while. Nor micro greens.

I like the kichen counter to be clean. Spot less. A few

You this. You that.

A clean kitchen counter whre we can cook.

Its a small counter and i need it clean. Right now its a clutter.

You this you that

This is like this This is like that

Where have i seen this play out in loop. My mother. R has turned into my mother this morning. R keeps turning into my mother.

That when i hate him. Hate is strong. Intensely dislike. When he keeps driving home this point of how one is not doing what what one is supposed to be doing. That what and who one is, isnt ideal.

This was beginining to feel like a whiny pointless post with zero insight.

And R calls up his mom to ask if she minds onion in the kadala curry he is making. We are taking puttu and kadala over with us when we go to visit them today. I would have thought it odd the affection he bestows on his mother. And early on when i met him, he wasnt so expressive with his affection towards his parents. A 54 year old man being being possibly moer affectionate with his mom that i am with mine. Is actually such a wonderful and beautiful thing. In my own conditioning, formed by acerbic relations between my mom and her mom-in-law and my father’s absence, that i never got a clear idea of my fathers relationship with his mother. What do i mean by that? I suppose we form neural pathways of expectations based on what we are exposed to. Somewhere in my liberal hyper-independent idea of the free woman, modelled along the independent man, was one who didnt need anyone. And so it seems strange, for the adult man to express his affection for his aged mother. He can take care of the financial and social obligations et al. But to express geniune affection outwardly. How unstoic.

ANd how human. To actually accept and acknowlege ones need for this primary connection to the world. Than hide it in thick layers of indifference and independence as expression of masculinity.

And somewhere, the articulation of the Oedipus complex lurks suspiciously, watching out for abnormality in everything and everyone. That if one thing that has been named and labelled, and its all just that.

I know that its my own possessive tendencies and programming that assumes that every ounce of the adult male’s attention must be and must only be directed towards his “legal” mate.

Ah. There were are inching closer and notice the familiar subject in the horizon. Envy.

Yesterday when R said he was intensely attracted to E at some point in the exercise which was to gaze into the eyes of another, a stranger or friend for 10 minutes, i felt the sensations. Bubbling that demanded more space. Didnt want touch. Words that came out first - was to reassert power. “I know, i sensed it then”. And its true, i am quite sensitivve and i may have sensed it then and it may have had its effects on the evening. Sure.

But what was remarkable was how my viewing expereince of the film that E made, (and it was while watching the film that R made this statement) shifted ever so slightly. My neutral viewing and expereince of admiration shifted slowly and clearly towards disinterest and and veiled criticism. Basically, to put it simply, i found more faults with the film in the last half an hour after the greens than i did in the whole one hour before that. To the extent that i even found a scene dishonest and without integrity.

Now the question that i wont ever have a real answer to - is if the scene actually had elements that lacked a certain integrity and congruent with the position taken by the maker. And my envy allowed for a critical lens, or a wiping out of rose tinted admiration?

Or it was a discouloring and distrotion of the viewing experince, from the sensations expereinced?

I dont know.

Maybe what i am trying to ask is - is there any use of this sensation or expereince of envy. Does it serve any purpose in the larger sense of things? Because everything does, no, if we go by the idea of interconnectedness. Even the weeds have uses, unknown to us.

The sensation is sure unpleasant. It immediately put a distance between me and R and even E.

It created a distinct expereince of seperation. And with it came thoughts of security, or more like insecurity. Discrediting the other in someway as being weak. The need to claim, reclaim power. “ yea. When i have hung out with her husband, i was also quite intensely attracted to him”.

And also raised aloud once again the nature of commitment. Between R and me thats an on going conversation. How does one arrive into a mature sensible relationship.

Writing is slower today. I shared the blog link with 3 and a half people. And i know this will be read by someone other than me. Earlier there was no such thought at all.

It is changing the tone of what is being written. At this point atleast.

“ Dil mein mere hai Dard-e-disco dard-e-disco” … keeps appearing in head at random moments. Like a tape was left on and the power kept coming on and off. The two lines become backdrops to the most incognruent thoughts.

I go looking for the source. I dont find it.

In the play -

The character goes looking for the source of the song that fills the scene, and keeps looking and doesnt find it.

In another play, as ina thiriller , the song is the red color coating the pill. The memory that needs to placed into the slot to rewire the expereince of reality. Of joy. Or rights and wrongs. Of this one girl and hence of the collective. The logic is a lot like inception.

Ok. time to wrap. Dissatisfaction .

That the future gaze of another is coloring my expereince of perceiving and expressing. Maybe thats the distance between the master and the novice. The future gaze of another, for the master is also the future gaze of herself. The other not seperate from the self. And the novice rolls in the muck of otherness.

Rolling nice long distances made by the idea of such a seperation. Making huge spaces. And feeling small. Pretending to be big and feeling small.

I have had more backspaces operating today than i have ever in the recents.

Ok so envy makes some space and distance on one plane, while clingling like resin on another plane. Two opposite properties belonging to the same idea. Thats also another interpretation of duality.

HUnger hunger.

I go eat and make puttu.

I really hope i do my exercises in the evening. My knees need it. ANd not keep it off to the next morning - because only mornings are perfect. And if i cant do it in the morning i can nver do it, nonsense.

Afternoon today mom starts stitchinging classes with me.

We pulled out almost a hundred bed sheets from the trunk in the outhouse. Apparently, they are some 40-50 years old. Belonging to R’s grandmom.

Quite timely that R opened the trunks. We intend to keep some sheets for us, and for people who visit and some for the stiching classes and send the rest to La. Maybe there will still be enough to generally give away.

R and Rc are bantering int he kitching. Waiting for some sense of satisfactiong and lcarity i stick onto the word doc. Inspite of raging hunger and the smell and sight of mangoes.

Ok thats it. Today is this. Just observe it. Guilts. Nothing to do. Just watch.

I entered. I apologize if i pushed it. I have sense that i may have. Or treated it casually.

I ask for forgiveness. And i forgive. As a student would.

I leave now. To return wiser tomorrow.

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