#negro-mate

[negro-mate]

📈📈📈📈

#ask. #negro-mate #me #my post #like #ask anon #tumblr #follow

[gonzbur94]

#dog #mate #blanco y negro #mañanas #zzzzzz

[karinanails69]

#ilikekn69 #uñas #gelish #pestañas #cejas #uñasacrilicas #guadalajara #zapopan #KarinaNails69 #KN69 #nails #jalisco #mexico #sinfiltro #beige #blanco #mate #animalprint #negro #dorado #linea #art #manoalzada #manos #marzo (en Karina Nails 69) https://www.instagram.com/p/CpXwQdUOyN3/?igshid=NGJjMDIxMWI=

#ilikekn69 #uñas #gelish #pestañas #cejas #uñasacrilicas #guadalajara #zapopan #karinanails69 #kn69 #nails #jalisco #mexico #sinfiltro #beige #blanco #mate #animalprint #negro #dorado #linea #art #manoalzada #manos #marzo

[tarjapearce]

MIGUEL O'HARA PLAYLIST A03

ONGOING SERIES:

Bad Teachings: Miguel O'Hara. A retired 42-year-old teacher with a fistful of issues tailing after him. You were a slip in temptation of his already warped up world, his student. Nothing should come out of it, right?

(Initial College Professor/Older Miguel AU +18 ) Pt. 2 Pt. 3 Pt.4 Pt.5 Pt. 6 Pt. 7 Pt. 8 Pt. 9 Pt. 10 Pt. 11 Pt. 12 Pt. 13 Pt. 14 Pt. 15 Pt. 16 Pt. 17 Pt. 18

Iridiscent Mermaids, a childish and fantasy tale. Or so, The infamous pirate, The Red Eyed Demon, or Miguel O'Hara, thought.

PirateAU! x Mermaid! Pt. 2 Pt. 3 Pt. 4 Pt. 5

Mi Dulce Cereza (Ranchero! Novela AU!) Finding a path in life has never been so thrilling, but would you withstand life's punches?

Pt 1. Pt 2. Pt 3. Pt. 4 Pt. 5 Pt. 6 Pt. 7 Pt. 8 (UNDER REVAMP AND REWRITE)

Crimson Crown: (Royal AU) A dark king that is known to be ruthless, knows the true meaning of many things. War and love amongst them.

Pt1. Pt. 2 Pt. 3 Pt.4 Pt.5 Pt. 6 Pt. 7 Pt. 8 Pt. 9

Of Flowers And Hummingbirds It was a simple retirement party at Alchemax. But Universe decided you'd get so much more.

Pt. 2 Pt. 3 Pt. 4 Pt. 5 Pt. 6 Pt. 7

The Immorality Of Love (Pretty Woman but Victorian Era Inspired) Pt. 1

REQUESTS:

Dilf! Miguel HC (+18)

Impostor (Angst)

Workaholic (+18)

Ley Del Hielo (Angst)

As My Own (Fluff)

Bouncy (Mild mild +18)

El Charro Negro

A Wacky Spider (Mild +18)

A Life Ahead (Fluff)

Tentateur (+18)

Prey Game (Mild +18) Pt. 2

Marvelous (Fluff)

Complicated Birth

Food Daydreaming

Need a Hand?

Shorts, TWO Shots and Extras

Mating Season (+18)

Cast Away Pt. 2

Ways You Propose to Miguel #1

Lap Dance (+18)

Dragon AU! X Mermaid Reader Pt1 Pt2

Mi Dulce Cereza Extras 1 2

Crimson Crown Extras 1

SOCCER FAMILY AU

MIGUELVERSE (+18)

OTHERS

Clandestine Fight Club Reader x Knight Miguel

Imagine: Working Out With Miguel

Miguel x Reader x Punk! Miguel Pt 2

Plus Size! Reader x Miguel

Mafia Miguel Blurb

Dirty Thinking Migue

Thoughts on Him

PLAYLISTS (Coming soon)

Header made by me

#miguel o'hara #atsv miguel #masterlist #Spiderman 2099 masterlist #t writes✨ #miguel o'hara x reader #soccer family ⚽🕷️ #Miguelverse

[megamindsecretlair]

Camp Wanderlust, Part 1

Pairing: Camp Counselor!Franklin Saint x Black!Fem!reader / Plus Size reader

Warnings: 18+, Minors DNI, You are in charge of your own reading experience. Intentional use of AAVE. Cursing, one use of n-word, kissing, mentions of female and male anatomy. FLUFF.

Summary: Welcome to Camp Wanderlust! We're so glad you're here! Inner city kids have been granted the opportunity to spend their summer here, getting introduced to a new world. You and Franklin are camp counselors who can't seem to stop ogling each other.

Word Count: 6,966k

Part 2

A/N: I have no clue where this idea came from but I couldn't stop thinking about college Franklin and how adorable he is! I miss him! So enjoy this new mini-series. I'm also zooted so all mistakes are on me. Please, please, please consider commenting and reblogging to help support writers! I can't get better if I don't get feedback!

Taglist: @planetblaque @notapradagurl7 @miyuhpapayuh @henneseyhoe @mybonafidefeelings @blackerthings @wide-nose-and-wonderful @halfofmysoulsblog @sevikasblackgf @slippinninque @nerdieforpedro @bratzmaraj @browngirldominion @thecookiebratz @we-outsiiiide @kindofaintrovert @theunsweetenedtruth @theyscreamsannii

The cool cotton shirt was already starting to stick to your skin. You fanned yourself, wondering if you had enough time to make it back to the cabin before the bus got here. You couldn’t find your scrunchie and your braids were starting to itch as sweat threaded around the parts. 

Girls stood to your left, guys stood to your right, all nervous and full of energy. Orientation started three days ago as everyone met each other, went over rules and regulations, and then had real fun later that night as flasks and mini bottles of booze were passed around. 

The owners of the camp were a silly white couple who just loved to help inner city kids. They stood off to the side from the group of counselors looking like concerned citizens complaining about a large group of Black folk for no reason. They were nice and all, but funny how their compassion only extended to the kids. Every counselor here came from colleges all around Southern California. Not one street kid.

You had never been to camp though and you had to admit, this was a nice way to show inner city kids that there was more to life than weed and going to jail. You switched your weight to your other hip, looking behind you for the hundredth time.

“You lookin’ for your boyfriend?” Dana, your bunk mate, nudged you with her elbow. She was a really pretty, dark-skinned woman with good hair. Her afro was fluffed out and shining in the morning sun. 

“What are you talking about?” You asked. 

“Franklin,” she said, drawing his name out in a song. 

You giggled and shook your head, nervously looking around to make sure no one heard her. Despite what she kept insisting, you were not going to throw yourself at Franklin Saint. Your eyes sought him out but if you looked any longer, it would be too obvious. You snatched your eyes away from your right side and looked at Dana.

“No,” you said. “Not happening.” 

Once everyone found out that nearly everyone was single, the energy shifted in the room. People started eyeing each other in a new light. Now hookups were dancing through people’s eyes, eyes drooping below the chaste limit, seeking out the most pleasurable mate for your time at camp. 

Where else were you going to find people who got you? Certainly not at your respective schools where it felt criminal to be seen consorting with your fellow Negro. If two gathered in a space, it was a warning. If three or more joined, suddenly you were a gang and there were board meetings and secret handshakes banning that sort of thing.

No, here, you were surrounded by woods and a lake. Here the predominant color was as brown as the earth and just as beautiful. Here, anything could happen. So people began pairing off and gossiping. Laying claim on the curve of a hip or soft shoulders to lay on, or perhaps the way a smile made your insides flutter. 

Looking over the men, there were certainly some fine specimens. Some tall and broad, skinny and lanky, rounded and thick as molasses. But there was only one for you. He was so dreamy. 

His dark skin soaked up the sun. Such a cute, kind of shy smile. But his eyes were low and mischievous. Like he had a secret in them about you. He had worn blue jeans and a striped green shirt, the collars popped open.  

When your eyes landed on him, you were ready to drool and fall all over yourself. You had never felt that way about anyone. No one in your neighborhood, no one in your schools, and definitely no one at your college. 

And it seemed like he saw all of this float through your brain as he locked his eyes on you and smiled, dipping his chin a bit. You gave him a small smile, in shaking fear that he could see the lust on you,  and you turned away from him. 

You were not the only one to notice him. Snippets of their conversation had floated to you about the cute boy on the left. No, the far left. Girl, the one who look like my next boyfriend! 

You were not going to compete for no man. But your eyes floated to the other men, some who looked your way with genuine interest in your curvy body, and they just weren’t doing it for you. They didn’t set your palms sweating or chest heaving or pussy throbbing. Well, there were maybe one or two you wouldn’t mind entertaining the next four weeks. Let someone else have that man.

Except he had made his way to you. He had introduced himself, voice low and full of dark promises. He had made you laugh and roll your eyes, twist your hair, and find ways to touch him. You had talked all night, completely ignoring everyone else who pointed and gossiped and wondered about you two. 

A bus horn honked twice and you flinched as your thoughts snapped back to reality. You did not need flashbacks of that night, finding out everything you could about each other. Bus after bus pulled into the turnabout to offload a flood of preteens. They brought a jittery nervous air to the balmy June day that were directly at odds. 

Your eyes scanned the kids as they clutched their little sleeping bags, pillows, and backpacks too heavy for them. They weren’t quite that loud yet. The extroverts had already found each other, forming up groups and surpassing that line between the “popular kids” and the “weird” ones. You weren’t sure who was in your group yet, but you hoped they weren’t little shits. 

The owners of the camp, Mr. and Mrs. Coleman but you can call us Doug and Anne, erupted into excited giggles and clapped their hands. Some of the counselors began hiding smirks and smiles and giving each other the Look. 

“Welcome to Camp Wanderlust!” Anne yelled in the too quiet air. Nature hadn’t been encroached upon today and was taking its time waking up. The arrival of kids to run across the ground or play in its leaves were a new addition and nature needed a minute. 

Anne rushed forward and waved. “We are so excited that you’re here. How excited are you?” Anne continued. 

The popular kids cheered and threw their hands in the air while the shy ones stood there staring straight ahead like zombies. Maybe they just weren’t morning kids. Because you sure as shit wasn’t a morning person. 

Anne began to list off some welcome bullshit about learning and having fun and going swimming, supervised of course. About making lifelong friends because you could keep in touch with letters. Building bonds and telling some good stories while you’re at it.

She talked about how the cabins were divided. For their safety, girls and boys are in completely separate cabins and lights out at 10pm sharp. No one was allowed outside at night without a chaperone. They were free to go to the bathroom but it was straight back to bed. 

She told them the names of each cabin and the cabin badges were important to remember. Doug came forward with a clipboard and started to rabble off badges, cabin numbers, and their assigned counselors.

In unison, you all waved to the kids with bright smiles and held up mini signs you made yourself yesterday. It stated your name. Three guesses on who your partner was. Doug then rattled off names and numbers. Kids began to separate and walk toward you. 

A line of girls formed in front of you, bright eyed and cute in their little pigtails and afros and braids. Some looked so painfully shy, you vowed to make sure they felt included and had fun. You thrived in college but you were a shy girl just like them. It cropped up from time to time, but you felt more yourself now than you ever did as a kid. 

Doug finished and everyone had their group. The counselors began fanning out to gain some distance and introduce themselves without yelling over a nearby group. You stayed put, not wanting to walk unnecessarily in this heat. 

You had been lined up in numerical order, so Franklin was on the opposite end from you. He faced you and you swore you saw him smile at you before turning to his group of Cabin 5 boys. You turned to your own Cabin 5 girls and gave them your name, making them say theirs and their favorite color. 

You talked some more, trying to find areas of interest where they might all intersect. You doubted you could get total consensus, but it never truly hurt to be optimistic. You took your group of ten to the Raven badge house and let them decide how to pick beds. You weren’t going to help with that. You watched as they worked to decide which bed would be theirs. The assertive ones announced which ones they wanted and if no one objected, then that was fine. The shyer girls took their time trying to be polite and give up whichever one they wanted. The whole process was over pretty quickly and you were back outside, giving them a tour and dodging other groups. 

Your eyes immediately found Franklin coming out of the cabin next door. He moved between shadow and sun as he left the cover of the cabin. He lit up, that sun hitting him all over his gorgeous body. He wore khaki shorts and a blue shirt with Camp Wanderlust written across the back. You wore a similar shirt and let yourself picture being snuggled up with him. 

You shook your head and faced your group, leading them out and around Camp. You showed them the shower and bathrooms, mess hall, activity tunnel which was the bridge to the rest of the camp. You showed them the Traveler bridge which took them to the lake and boat house, and finally to Curiosity Hill which led to the woods. The hill was a long slope that led to the woods proper full of bugs and small animals. 

You looked at your watch, making good time. You faced your group and started answering questions so they could get to know you. They called you pretty and asked which school you went to, your favorite color, and the like. 

“I bet ya’ll hungry, huh?” You asked.

“Yeah!” They all said, loudly. You giggled and waved for them to follow you to the mess hall. Groups were following behind you, following the unspoken signal for lunch.  You made them line up, grab a tray, and move down the line.

You told them where to sit and told them to get to know one another. You grabbed your tray and went to sit at the counselor’s table.

Dana was already there digging into her tray all neat and polite. She smiled when you sat down and you breathed a sigh of relief. You were out of the hot ass sun, finally had some water, and could eat. Why did you agree to this again? 

“You know your boyfriend been checking you out all morning,” she said. 

“Shut up with that,” you said and began eating. 

“He has! Sharonda said he told Jason that you were fine as hell,” she said. 

“And how did Sharonda hear that?” You asked.

“Supposedly, Keisha and Jason are a thing which is a little funny because Jamika said the same thing. But Keisha and Sharonda are bunk mates,” she said. 

You shook your head. “Oh, you stay ear-hustling,” you said. 

“I like information. I don’t care how I get it,” she said.

“Okay, so then who you got around here?” You asked. 

“I’m still looking. They ain’t that fine compared to Mr. Saint,” Dana said.

“Ya’ll talkin’ about her boyfriend?” Jamika asked, coming up behind you. She dropped her tray onto the table and then scooted onto the bench.  “I swear them girls already getting on my nerves. They gave me the bad little mu’fuckas,” she complained. 

“Where are ya’ll getting this boyfriend from and why are ya’ll all in my business?” You asked.

“So there’s business to be had,” Jamika said and looked at Dana. “Told ya.”

Jamika sucked her teeth and sighed dramatically. She dug in her pocket and pulled out a dollar bill and handed it to Jamika. 

“Ya’ll betting?” You demanded. 

“I told her there was something between ya’ll. Ya’ll must’ve met before today or something because ya’ll literally can’t keep your eyes off of each other.” 

“I said that ya’ll ain’t even had an opportunity to do anything or spend time together,” Dana said.

“Ya’ll are so foul!” You could only shake your head at the two girls who instantly clicked with you. Both were similar to each other, favoring each other’s tone and speaking in nearly the same mannerisms. They had never met and yet bonded like sisters. Somehow you got scooped up between them and you were so grateful. 

“When he lookin’ that hard? There’s always something there,” Jamika said.

“What ya’ll betting on anyway?” You asked.

“We can’t tell you that. We can’t interfere,” Jamika said.

“Is everyone in on it?” You asked.

“Everybody but you,” Dana said, cackling loud and hi-fiving Jamika. 

You shook your head, looking over to your cabin kids. They were actually talking which was a good sign but a few were still too quiet. Jamika sighed loudly as she did the same. There were two girls fussing at each other.

“Ain’t you gonna help?” Dana asked.

“Uh-uh, I wanna see who wins,” Jamika said, a little smirk on her lips. 

On the opposite side of you, you felt a tug on your braid. You turned, ready to be mad when you saw Franklin’s wide grin and his pretty eyes. The heat died down in your chest as you sighed. 

“Boy, you was finna get hurt,” you said.

“I ain’t scared of you,” he said. He scooted onto the bench with you, making you scoot over since you were on the end. Dana and Jamika threw knowing glances at each other. 

“What are you doing, Franklin?” You asked.

“Came to see you. Ain’t had a chance all day,” he said. 

You rolled your eyes, dabbing your lips with your napkin. Franklin straddled the bench, smiling at you. Just staring and smiling like he could do that all day long. It unnerved you when you looked at each other like this. But you watched him right back.

“Why are you really here?” You asked.

“We’re sitting next to each other at the bonfire right?” He asked.

“You pulled my hair just to ask me that?” You meant to sound playful and teasing, but your voice was quieter than that. Filled with some other emotion like expecting a different answer. As if hair-pulling was acceptable in a different context.

He seemed to see your thoughts and he smiled.  “Just say I get to sit next to you,” he said. He leaned over and took one of your chips. You popped his hand and he yelped, rubbing his hand.

“I don’t play about my food,” you said. He laughed and shook his head, diving in for another one. You tried to pop his hand again but he kept moving it just before contact. 

He gave you another panty-melting smile. “You are so pretty, did you know?” Franklin asked.

You rolled your eyes. He got on your nerves already and you had only known him four days. “I can’t control where you sit, but I wouldn’t mind it next to me,” you said.

Franklin knocked on the bench with a wide grin. He turned to Dana and Jamika. “Ladies,” he said.

He stood up and walked back to his table where the guys whooped and hollered from where they were sitting. You had a flashback to middle school, the same age as these kids, and you felt sick. You hated when so much attention was on you and now all of the counselors were gossiping about your so-called relationship with Franklin. 

“Fuck, where do I get one of him?” Jamika asked. 

“Right, like where his brother at?” Dana echoed. You all watched Franklin’s retreat and him talking to his buddies. 

The rest of lunch was uneventful as you spoke about your groups and how you hoped the first activity went well. You cleaned up after yourselves and began to lead your groups out of the mess hall and across the land towards the activity side. There was an obstacle course set up with things to make these kids stretch their legs and build some friendships.

You walked alongside Franklin and he nudged you with his elbow. You nudged him back. You had family, you were no pushover. You lightly pushed each other all the way down to the course. You were not setting a good example for the kids.

At the course, Anne and Doug greeted everyone and told everyone about the course. She announced prizes at the end of each activity and at the month to the team with the highest scores. Anne and Doug would score the kids with input from their counselors. So it was all about playing fair and working with each other to win. 

One of the counselors, Jason, showed how hard it was to get through the course alone. He was playacting for the kids. Jason was as tall as a tree with rich ebony skin and thick muscles. Basketball guy definitely. He was built for speed and agility but he struggled. 

He returned to his group and Doug and Anne stated that they went in cabin order. Being last in line, you told the girls that they’d have a chance to search for weaknesses. They loved that idea and got a lot more interested in the rules. First, the cabin mates would introduce themselves to each other.

The girls turned completely shy, backing away from the boys. The boys returned in kind, eyeing each other with slightly nauseous faces. 

“Come on guys, what do you say?” Franklin encouraged. 

Reluctantly, a boy stepped forward and held out his hand. One of your girls did the same and they introduced themselves. You looked at Franklin. “Did you teach them that?” You asked.

“They were nervous about being here. I gave them some tips,” he said. He slanted his eyes towards you with a smirk. 

You watched as the kids opened up and started talking. Anne and Doug got the course going with kids going through it and working off the food they ate. When everyone was done, prizes were handed out. That earned them a few hours to relax in the rec room. The counselors were free to rotate shifts and watch the kids. 

It wasn’t your shift yet so you went to hang out with Dana and Jamika back in the cabins. The heat was killing you and you needed to cool off somewhere. You immediately searched for a scrunchie to get the fresh braids off of your neck.

“So we just not gon’ talk about Franklin asking our girl out?” Jamika asked. 

You laughed with your friends up to the cabin while you dodged their questions about you and Franklin. Nerves bubbled in your gut thinking about the boy with the cute smile. You couldn’t describe this feeling between you but you knew that you wanted to explore it. If only you could do it in peace.

You stared up at the stars as you sat on your log. Anne and Doug were really going all out for the experience. These kids were in for a better treat than you ever got. You didn’t have fancy white people paying for your camp stay so they could pat themselves on the back. Selective performism wasn’t around when you were growing up. 

The stars twinkled overhead, spattering the sky with little dots of light. There were more stars than you had ever seen in your life. Too much pollution where you lived and went to school. 

You sat around the campfire with half of the larger group. Anne was with your group, asking the kids about what they thought of the camp so far. Some were excited and they went around in a circle saying what they liked about it. 

You were among the first to get there. By the time Cabin 5 boys made it down, Cabin 2’s counselor was already sitting next to you. 

“No!” Franklin said when he approached. “Aye, switch places with me,” he asked.

The girl, Michella, rolled her eyes and stood up with a smirk. She hi-fived her counterpart. He smirked at the two of you. Ugh. This was so fucking childish. 

Anne missed all of it as she focused on getting her free feedback. Franklin was overwhelming. He wasn’t a big man, but he felt big. He felt larger than anyone else there. He leaned over with his elbows on his knees and listened to every kid speaking.

Every now and then, your knee would brush his. You didn’t know if he was doing it on purpose but it only made you ache and shiver. When he stretched, you couldn’t help ogling him. Those skinny but powerful arms. The groans he made when he went a little too far. 

You licked your lips and hung your head. It wasn’t normal to be this attracted to someone, right? You wanted to snuggle into him and never leave. He could be annoying, but there were times where he seemed to be undressing you with his eyes. 

While Anne was distracted, Franklin turned his eyes to you. “Meet me later?” He asked. 

“Where? Lights out at 11 or didn’t you hear?” You asked.

“Break the rules with me, c’mon. They know we gon’ break ‘em,” he said.

You shook your head, fighting down little deranged bubbles of laughter. He wasn’t being intentionally funny, but you weren’t used to such persistence. You had your fair share of men interested in you. But it was hard trying to find worthy Black men among the sea of white people. 

“I wanna see you, alone,” he said. 

You tuned back into Anne who was giving some background on the camp and why it was named Camp Wanderlust. 

“You know everyone is talkin’ about us and taking bets,” you said.

“So? I’m trynna bet on us too,” he said. 

You shook your head. “I’ll think about it,” you said. You weren’t a goody-two-shoes but you were just as excited as the kids at being here at camp. Your mother never wanted you to go, hiding behind excuses like she thought you would be boy crazy after. Which was ridiculous. You were already married to Marcus Murray. You just knew he was going to be your husband forever. Until he moved away in second grade and you never heard from him again. You didn’t want anything to jeopardize you being here. Not even for the likes of Franklin Saint.

He smiled at you and turned to Anne.

“Of course, that’s nothing compared to…” Anne looked around her dramatically. “No, I can’t say his name. Anyone who says it gets taken in the night!” 

You shared the Look with Michella and shook your head. You didn’t know who Anne thought she was fooling with this routine, but you supposed that it wouldn’t be a proper bonfire without scary stories. 

You stood up with Franklin and went over to the cooler. You opened it, grabbing bags of marshmallows, chocolate, and graham crackers. Franklin helped you, somehow managing to reach across you for everything. His arm grazed your tummy and you sighed. You tilted your head at him.

“Will you stop?” You asked.

“What?” He asked, innocent as a button. You were not fooled. He smiled at you, tilting his head back in response.

“You keep…you know,” you said.

“Tell me,” he said and stepped closer to you. 

“Oh, you get on my nerves,” you said. You smiled at him.

“Meet me at Traveler,” he said.

You shook your head as you brought back the supplies towards the group. You began passing the bags around, picking up sticks that you had collected earlier. Anne continued her tale of the leader of the lost kids. 

You were pretty sure she was talking about an evil Peter Pan but the kids didn’t seem to mind. Some were really engrossed in the story, looking over their shoulders towards the pitch black night. 

She spun the tale of kids who got lost wandering in the dark by themselves. Snatching up anyone who calls them by name. She wasn’t going to say it for their safety. They absolutely must not go looking for his name on the plank where people had been signing their names for years. One signature is not like the rest and they must never seek it out. 

The kids promised but you already saw some sneaky faces. Faces that screamed trouble. You fought a smile. 

You took turns, trying to keep up the legend of this mysterious leader. No one knew who it was, it could be anyone out there. They could be right over someone’s shoulder and you wouldn’t know. 

A few girls squealed. The boys were trying to seem cool, but you saw their eyes darting around as well. You munched on smores as tales were told and laughs were shared. The entire time, you were in sync with Franklin. If he moved, you moved. If he shifted, you did so as well. It was maddening. 

The kids were dismissed to their cabins to unwind for an hour before bed. You walked your cabin back, Franklin walking beside you. He asked you about what you were studying. You told him your favorite subject and your face practically lit up talking about it. 

You asked him what he was into. He said business. “Business! Why?” You asked.

He shrugged. “I got a mind for numbers. I can do something with that,” he said.

You really needed to get control of your dirty mind. When he said that, your mind instantly went to his lips. The moon poked through the trees and you were able to see him glow faintly silver. You licked your own, wondering what his lips would taste like. What his hands would feel like on you. 

You dragged your gaze ahead of you. The overhead camp lights shone a giant spotlight on you and your group. You walked to each respective bunk and bid farewell to the kids. You crossed paths with Franklin once more as you walked to the counselor cabin. 

Franklin’s hand brushed against yours. Your fingers tingled. As if it could already feel his hands tangling with yours. “Tonight?” Franklin asked. 

“I’ll think about it!” You said and shook your head.

“You’re breaking my heart,” he said.

“Shut up!” You giggled. You went to your cabin, flopping onto your bed with a soft sigh. You brought the pillow to your face and squealed, questioning the butterflies in your stomach. You weren’t a teenager but, fuck, you felt like you were back in high school. Possibly earlier. Back to middle school where you couldn’t stop thinking about Chris Johnson and how sweet he was. 

“Ugh, ya’ll need to go on and make it official. I need to win some real money around here,” Dana said. She emerged from the closet on her side. 

These cabins were much smaller, big enough for two people and set up like a dorm room. You didn’t have that much money for school, it all went to books and classes. You weren’t able to stay on campus and you took the bus to and from the bastard. 

“Stop,” you groaned.

“I don’t know why you leavin’ that man hanging like that,” she said. She was already dressed in her pj’s: sweats and a tank top. Your pjs were similar but you still weren’t sure if you were going to meet Franklin later or not. 

It made you delirious to think about it. Sneaking off in the night. Wings took flight in your stomach. You flipped onto your back and placed your hands against your tummy. You had to see what he wanted, right? 

It wasn’t to talk. You knew that much. He could be a gentleman all he wanted, but you weren’t that oblivious. You saw the way he looked at you or the way he found little ways to bother you. It was so childish but it grew on you as you formed an instant connection. 

“I’m not trying to,” you told Dana. 

“Look, we only here for four weeks. May as well have some fun and have something to tell your future grandkids,” she said.

You laughed and leaned onto your elbow to face her. “Why would I tell my grandkids I had something with some random boy at camp?” 

“Because grandmas are always talkin’ out the side of they neck. I wanna be like my Grandma Sadie. She told us all kinds of things when my parents weren’t around,” she said.

“That’s why you’re so wholesome now,” you told her. 

You talked and joked while Dana spread the latest camp gossip. You weren’t the only subject of people’s comments. People were already finding themselves tangled up with each other. Try as you might, you couldn’t get Jamika to see what a fuck nigga Jason was. She lost her collective marbles with him. 

As it got later, your nerves got the best of you. You were hovering outside of the door, peeking out to see the distant house where Anne and Doug went to bed. There were still lights on in the house. Across from the house, there were similar bunks with the camp staff. Kitchen, groundskeeper, the like. Other volunteers who agreed to help watch the kids. 

Your foot tapped against the wooden floor, your Converse beating a steady rhythm. Dana had explicitly told you to go while she drifted off to sleep. You took a deep breath and left the cabin. Your curiosity was going to eat you alive.

You scurried across the open courtyard heading toward Traveler bridge. The bridge itself crossed a small creek on a curve. You stopped at the entrance, under the light. You waited there, the chilly night and insects chirping making the woods seem creepier. Like Jason was going to pop out at any moment and go on a murdering spree. You should have brought a jacket. You rubbed your bare arms, feet shifting back and forth as you looked around you for any sign of Franklin. He wouldn’t tell you to meet him and then just not show up right?

“Hey, it’s Franklin,” Franklin whispered, making enough noise to let you hear him approach. You turned to face him, smiling softly at him.

“I’m glad you came. Took forever for my bunk mate to fall asleep,” he said. 

He held out his hand and you took it, going over the bridge with him. There was a stretch of woods here, the trees loomed over you. Gnarled branches twisted and arched overhead, blocking out bits of the artificial light. 

You reached the edge of the woods, where the trees broke up and allowed for a wider entrance towards the lake and the water supplies and equipment. Franklin stopped you from heading towards the dock.

He paused while the moon hit you two perfectly. You saw his face and how nervous he seemed. Franklin? Nervous? 

“You’re so beautiful,” he said.

“You’re pretty cute too,” you said with a smile. He moved his hands to your hips, fingers sliding down your sides to loop his fingers through your belt loops. He pushed you backwards until your back gently hit a tree wide enough to accommodate you. 

Franklin stared into your eyes. “I ain’t the only one feeling this, am I?” He asked. 

He threaded his hand through your left one, watching as the pale light played over your combined hands. You swore your hand was electric from touching him. Little zips of energy flowed between you. Your body was learning him. Learning how he moved and spoke, resonated with his energy to match. 

“No. Is it crazy?” You asked.

“Absolutely crazy. I like talkin’ to you,” he said. 

He leaned down but didn’t kiss you. His lips hovered just there, just out of reach. He was so tall and broad, your hands came around his shoulders. You couldn’t stop grasping him. Your body heated up from the inside out. Your mouth dried feeling him beneath your fingers. 

He let you explore his body. You were too shy to go further, to truly explore him. His hands stayed respectfully on your hips. 

“I want to know everything,” he said. 

You giggled. “We’d be here all night,” you said.

“Shit, I can lose some sleep,” he said.

You shook your head. “Are we going down to the dock or not?” You had did this yesterday too. Sneaking out while everyone was supposed to be sleep. You were sure that other couples were doing the same thing. Finding hidden spots that no one would stumble across at this time of night. 

“I just wanted to look at you,” he said. He smiled and you couldn’t help smiling back. He didn’t even have to say anything and he had your lips curling, your tongue sliding across your teeth, and your cheeks hurting from smiling so hard. 

You were lost in the world of Franklin and you didn’t mind. You would gladly stay in his orbit if he kept looking at you like that. Like he wanted to spend the rest of his life by your side, listening to you speak. 

He finally moved away, allowing oxygen to flow to your brain once more. You shook off his subtle clean scent. He tugged you by the hand towards the dock. Your shoes clanged against the loose boards. It was a wonder the damn thing didn’t collapse by now.

Franklin let you sit down first. You took off your shoes and socks, dangling them over the dock. The water was a little out of reach. Only your toes graced the surface of the icy water. Franklin joined you, taking off his own shoes and socks. He sat back a little, his legs a bit longer than yours. 

He sat close, close enough for you to feel every rise and fall of his chest. His shoulders grazed against yours and you had to sit on your hands to keep from reaching out and touching him like you owned him. 

You spent an hour or so there, talking and learning about his aunt and uncle. His momma working for a piece of shit real estate agent. How he wanted to find a good paying job where his mom could retire and he could take care of her.

You didn’t bother asking about his dad. From the way he spoke about his mom, it was clear he wasn’t in the picture. You told him about your family, your schoolwork, and how hard it was to always be on stage while at school.

You bonded about how students and teachers alike didn’t know what to make of you. They didn’t know what kind of Negro you were. The loud type? The ignorant type? The quiet, good ones that they were comfortable reaching for your hair or asking intrusive questions? It felt good to bond with someone over these things.

Franklin was able to stay on campus but he hardly spent time in his rooms. He could be found in the library somewhere, doing his work like a true little nerd.

“You won’t hold it against me, will you?” He asked. 

He sounded so adorable when he asked you that you shook your head. You leaned back, resting on your hands, as you looked at the stars above you. They were breathtaking. The air was clearer. You wished you could afford this much land. That you could have a place to yourself where no one else was allowed. 

A private lake where you could do anything you wanted. You could swim naked for all you wanted and no one would be around to stop you. Perhaps not such a big land though. You wouldn’t know what to do if a psycho killer came crashing out of the woods. 

“Nah, you good,” you said. He matched your stance, looking skyward. He then turned his head. You turned to look at him as well, not realizing just how close you were. His eyes dipped towards your lips. 

You licked them absently and his eyes tracked the movement. You found yourself leaning forward, closing the distance towards those lips of his. They looked so big and juicy and were probably warm. 

He rested his head against yours, smiling against your lips. “Let me kiss you,” he said.

It wasn’t a question but you smiled and nodded. He crossed that final distance, that tiny gap keeping you apart, He sighed against your lips. His big, warm hand reached up to cup your neck. 

His fingers feathered across your pulse points. You felt your heartbeat there, beating wildly against his fingers. His lips were even more heavenly. His other hand cupped the other side of your neck. His long fingers slid through your braids.

You were lightheaded. Dizzy with pleasure as your lips tingled against his. Shivers ran down your spine. Your hands rested on his forearms, holding onto each other as you gave in to this thing between you. This all consuming thing that made you push forward, press against him, trying to get closer than what you already were. 

Your harsh breaths seemed to echo in the still night. The sounds of the woods were muted here, lending itself to a type of quiet that you never experienced. There was always a plane or helicopter overhead. Some type of siren or dog barking. 

It was hard as hell to go to sleep in a place so quiet. It was eerie. You kept expecting to hear a gunshot disguised as a firework. Here, there were just your loud and racing thoughts picturing this exact moment. 

Franklin’s tongue danced with yours. Sweeping across your lips and diving back into your mouth to taste more of you. His breath was faintly minty. Even after dinner and the smores. 

Your pussy throbbed. Beating in time with your wild heartbeat. You felt him everywhere. All over your skin. Every kiss had an answering call in your tummy. Every squeeze around your neck you felt down to your toes. 

You reluctantly drew away at the same time, panting and turning drunk eyes on each other. “I’ve been dreamin’ about that,” he said. His head rested against your once more. You huffed, breathing each other in. 

“Same here. I felt like that should've helped dull this,” you said.

After your taste, you wanted more. You wanted to keep going. You wanted him to lay you down and unzip your shorts. Or makeout with you while his hands explored under your shirt. To rub your aching nipples that were straining beneath your bra for any type of stimulation. 

“Ain’t gon’ happen,” he said. He pecked your lips. But a quick peck turned into two and then three until you were moving into his lap. You straddled him and kissed under the stars. It was just you and him.

Him gripping your thighs and squeezing them for dear life. You running your hands around his back. Your lips crashing against each other over and over, like waves crashing against a shore. You felt weightless in his arms. He hadn’t looked all that sturdy under that skinny frame, but he handled you with ease.

He squeezed your ass and you groaned, couldn’t help yourself from grinding on his crotch. He was thick, warm, and solid under you. He was pressing against your core but there wasn’t enough friction. 

You found a natural break again, opening your eyes to look at him and smile. It still was nowhere near enough but it would have to be. You had already been out too late. You were going to be so tired in the morning.

“We should get back,” he whispered. 

You licked your swollen lips and nodded. Fuck, you wanted to keep going. Wanted to know how far he would push you. 

“Will you meet me tomorrow too?” He asked.

You bit your lip but nodded. “I’ll meet you tomorrow, too,” you said. The other counselors be damned. It wasn’t like they weren’t around, confessing their own feelings. Or already hooking up. Clothes flying in the heat of the moment. 

“Let me walk you to your cabin,” he said.

His hands slowly slid from your hips to your sides to help you maneuver off of him. You stood and he stood up after, taking your hand and walking with you back to your cabin. His cabin was further down and you thanked him for the sweet gesture.

He tapped his cheek for a kiss. Your cheeks hurt from trying to hide another smile. He got on your damn nerves. You pecked his cheek, your lips lingering for a fraction too long. “Good night, Franklin,” you said. 

“Good night,” he said. Your name fell from his lips softly, sacredly. 

You gave a small wave and went inside, closing the door and resting your back against it. You were still so lightheaded. Drunk on his kisses and needing more. Dana was still fast asleep so you changed and slipped into bed as quiet as you could. 

You didn’t know how you were going to sleep tonight but you hoped that Franklin would dream of you too.

There's always more Franklin to explore: The Secret Franklin Saint Files | Part 2

#Megaminds Secret Files #The Secret Franklin Saint Files #Franklin x Black!reader #Franklin x Black reader #Franklin x reader #x Black reader #Black reader #Franklin x Fem!reader #Franklin x Fem reader #Franklin x you #Snowfall fanfic #Snowfall fan fic #Snowfall fanfiction #Franklin Saint #Franklin Saint fanfic #Franklin Saint fanfiction #Franklin Saint fan fiction #Franklin Saint fan fic #Camp Counselor!Franklin #Camp Counselor Franklin Saint

[imninahchan]

ninazinha, como vc imagina o matias de namorado? <3

o namorado mais chato grudento implicante moleque piranha do mundo

ele vai te conquistar com o bom humor, as piadinhas, a mente aberta. É amigo dos seus amigos, vai bebendo e fumando algo junto dele enquanto todo mundo tá em outro lado, e quando você vê já tá pegando ele num cantinho. Depois disso, ele não conta, faz charminho, mas na cabeça deles vocês já são namorados. É capaz de ficarem nessa de sempre que se encontrarem acabar se pegando por um tempinho, até transarem, e só aí ele decidir abaixar a marra e te pedir em namoro.

vejo claramente o matias como aqueles namorados pau mandado, que fala e faz tudo que você quer, fica pianinho. O posso não minha mulher não deixou, te chama de rainha, dona, patroa no dia a dia, na frente dos outros quando se refere a ti, mas na cama é só baixaria, e ganha mais domínio. Adora implicar contigo, fazer gracinhas, piadinhas, às vezes você precisa lembrar ele que é uma situação séria. Quando vocês brigam, a energia de passivo agressividade de vocês é gritante, mas sexy, e acaba terminando numa foda e um pedido de desculpas, um te amo nena, briga comigo não, sua boba. E tenho essa ideia de que sexo com ele é bem sujo, no quesito não se importa quando tudo fica muito molhadinho, pegajoso, quando mais manchado, bagunçado melhor.

sua família gosta dele, principalmente seus priminhos, porque ele ensina a andar de skate descendo um morro extremamente perigoso ou pula o muro da vizinha pra buscar a bola. O seu pai acha ele um molecote desempregado e maconheiro, a sua mãe acha ele bonzinho.

o namorado que gosta de enfiar o rosto nos seus peitos sempre que possível, dorme de calção velho e sem camisa, faz careta pra tudo que tu diz mas tá fazendo o que foi ordenado porque ele tem juízo, aleatoriamente começa a imitar algum artista no meio de uma conversa contigo, aprende a militar contigo e agr milita em cima de tudo, canta negro drama no carro indo pro rolê mais branco possível, se fosse br ia ser filho de político criado em condomínio fechado paulista, às vezes só se comunica através de memes.

não engulo essa dele ter relacionamento aberto, mas ele se joga nessa porque te ama, porque quer você, e nunca pega ninguém. Ciumento. E ciumento do tipo que fica encarando o cara que tá dando em cima de ti. No relacionamento de vocês, é você ele e o mate. SÓ.

#[💌] fala comigo bebê #matias recalt #headcannon

[31nightshade]

( context if your new to my everything Phil is a traditional goth (or 80"s goth) and missa is a scene kid ( or simply colorful emo)

(contexto si eres nuevo en todo esto, Phil es un gótico tradicional (o un gótico de los 80) y missa es una chica de escena (o simplemente una emo colorida)

Phil looking a some lipsticks trying to choose between a dark red or black: hay mIs-

Missa with 20 pairs of fuzzy leg warmers: PHiLzA LOOK AT WHAT I FOUND!

Phil: Oh not again mate.

Missa: Phil look at this one ITS SO CUTE ( orange and yellow with little ducks)

Phil: missa you already have a pair in those colors- sigh

Missa: please Phil! 🥺

Phil: alr alr your paying for everything tho.

Español Translation.

Phil mirando unos labiales tratando de elegir entre rojo oscuro o negro: hay mIs-

Missa con 20 pares de calentadores peludos: PHiLzA ¡MIRA LO QUE ENCONTRÉ!

Phil: Oh, otra vez no, mate

Phil: Aunque todavía estás pagando por todo.

Phil: Aunque todavía estás pagando por todo.

Missa: Phil, mira este, ES TAN LINDO (naranja y amarillo con patitos)

Phil: señorita ya tienes un par en esos colores- suspiro

Missa: ¡por favor Phil! 🥺

#pissa #qsmp philza #qsmp missa #philza #qsmp #q!missa #philza minecraft #qsmpshipping #death duo #deathduo #nighshades au🌛

[a-typical]

I was the only Negro passenger on the plane, and I followed everybody else going into the Dobbs House to get lunch. When I got there one of the waiters ushered me back and I thought they were giving me a very nice comfortable seat with everybody else and I discovered they were leading me to a compartment in the back. And this compartment was around you, you were completely closed in, cut off from everybody else, so I immediately said that I couldn’t afford to eat there. I went on back and took a seat out in the main dining room with everybody else and I waited there, and nobody served me. I waited a long time, everybody else was being served. So finally I asked for the manager and he came out and started talking, and I told him the situation and he talked in very sympathetic terms. And I never will forget what he said to me.

He said, “Now Reverend, this is the law; this is the state law and the city ordinance and we have to do it. We can’t serve you out here but now everything is the same. Everything is equal back there; you will get the same food; you will be served out of the same dishes and everything else; you will get the same service as everybody out here.”

And I looked at him and started wondering if he really believed that. And I started talking with him. I said, “I don’t see how I can get the same service. Number one, I confront aesthetic inequality. I can’t see all these beautiful pictures that you have around the walls here. We don’t have them back there. But not only that, I just don’t like sitting back there and it does something to me. It makes me almost angry. I know that I shouldn’t get angry. I know that I shouldn’t become bitter, but when you put me back there something happens to my soul, so that I confront inequality in the sense that I have a greater potential for the accumulation of bitterness because you put me back there. And then not only that, I met a young man from Mobile who was my seat mate, a white fellow from Mobile, Alabama, and we were discussing some very interesting things. And when we got in the dining room, if we followed what you’re saying, we would have to be separated. And this means that I can’t communicate with this young man. I am completely cut off from communication. So I confront inequality on three levels: I confront aesthetic inequality; I confront inequality in the sense of a greater potential for the accumulation of bitterness; and I confront inequality in the sense that I can’t communicate with the person who was my seat mate.”

And I came to see what the Supreme Court meant when they came out saying that separate facilities are inherently unequal. There is no such thing as separate but equal.

The Autobiography of Martin Luther King Jr.

#MLK #Martin Luther King Jr #Clayborne Carson #The Autobiography of Martin Luther King Jr #1960s #civil rights #civil rights movement #black history #black history month #black lives matter #black history matters #black authors #history #blm #black voices #bipoc #african american #peaceful protests #nonviolent resistance #atypicalreads #noncooperation #passive resistance

[senig-fandom]

El demonio y el Ángel caído.

Inspirado por @naomychan por su publicación sobre este mismo tema VwV

El demonio y el Ángel caído.

Este relato lo hice como puro entretenimiento, si no tiene sentido, es porque no le dedique algo tan complejo y solo lo hago por inspiración, así que espero y les guste esta sinopsis XD

.

.

.

-Daniel, te declaramos culpable, por matar a Dios.

Mi mente estaba aturdida, no entendía lo que pasaba a mí alrededor, solo veía el suelo donde pisaba, viendo las cadenas blancas que sostenían mis manos y en mis manos, sangre, sangre roja cubría mis manos.

-Por favor, esto no tiene sentido, Daniel nunca haría algo así, es el ángel más leal que existe.-la voz femenina resuenan en mis tímpanos, alzo la cabeza para ver a mi hermana, quien lagrimea por mí.

Los susurros de los demás seres impregnan entre ecos del enorme edificio blanco del tribunal, y los jueces, hacen llamado al silencio.

-María, acaso quieres acompañar a tu hermano a su eterno castigo.-¿¿Acompañarme?? Es que acaso, no hay otra salida.

-Bueno yo…

-No…-Es lo mejor, si mi mente está rota, no puedo dejar que ella caiga conmigo, todos menos ella,- Lo acepto, Yo mate a Dios.

El mundo alzo sus voces ante mi declaración, mientras veía la tristeza en los ojos de mi querida hermana…Lo siento María, te quiero demasiado como para hacerte sufrirá ti también, aunque mi mente este perdida ahora, no quiero llevarte conmigo.

-Pues lo ha aceptado, y por tus acciones tu castigo será: vivir en el mundo humano, como otro humano más, pero sin poder pecar, cuando pecas, el dolor que sufrirás no tendrá medida, sentirás el cuerpo arder como las llamas del infierno, tu cabeza dolerá como mil picaduras, tú mismo te desgarraras la piel, y no tendrás cura a este dolor, por tu traición. Además, te quitaremos tus recuerdos del cielo, para que sufras este castigo como es debido.

Y fue así, como el bastón del ángel Miguel, dio por finalizada mi condena eterna, solo podía ver a mi hermana arrodillándose en lágrimas, en cuanto a mí, mis cadenas se volvieron pesadas, arrastrándome hacia el suelo, haciéndome caer, dejando de ver la luz del cielo, para envolverme en oscuridad, yo, estaba cayendo…cayendo del cielo.

.

.

.

La noticia de que Dios había muerto, llego a todo el infierno, los demonios hablaban entre sí, preguntándose quien fue, quien era el asesino, como lo logro. Entre ellos había uno en particular que veía toda la notica a la distancia.

-No puedo creerlo…no puedo creer que sea él, el que lo haya hecho, es imposible…-mirando pergaminos con el contenido de la noticia, El cielo hizo su llamado al infierno para dar la trágica noticia, mostrando por fin al Ángel que traiciono ambos mundos.

Con ira el demonio envuelve y aplasta el pergamino, para arrojarlo al fuego azul que tenía a su alrededor.

-Él no puede haberlo hecho, esto es una tontería, necesito encontrarlo, todo esto ha sido a traición, pero no, el no….

El demonio veía a los otros abajo, que parecían maldecir el nombre de ese ángel, haciendo que el de un chirrido entre dientes y se aleje del lugar.

-Frederick, ¿a dónde vas?- aparecía una demonio de cabellos negros quien lo buscaba antes y ahora solo lo veía marcharse de nuevo.

-Voy al mundo humano…

-¿Por qué? Que tienes que hacer allí ahora, no vez el caos que está siendo en este momento, el cielo busca mantener la paz ahora que dios se ha ido, Lucifer quiere tomar el trono. Tenemos que prepararnos.

-Yo no voy a participar, yo tengo que encontrar a ese ángel.

-¿El Ángel?, Frederick es imposible, ese ángel ahora puede estar en cualquier lugar.

-Pues aunque me tome la eternidad, lo encontrare, no lo pienso abandonar.

Aunque tomaría 5 años encontrar al ángel, que tanto ama.

.

.

.

En el basta ciudad de Clarel, hay un chico joven que no muestra muchos sentimientos, sus ojos vacíos y sin brillo muestran una humanidad apagada, las ojeras de sus ojos lo más probable es que no descansa bien, es delgado y débil, es como si Dios lo hubiera castigado. Pero no parece ser tan malo como su imagen melancólica, el joven ayuda a un bibliotecario, parece conocer bien cada libro de ese lugar, y su jefe lo alaba con buenas palabras sobre su persona.

Pero aun así, hubo momentos de verdadera tención, algunos pueblerinos, hablan de que el chico al principio no era así, pues atacaba, golpeaba y amendretraba a otras personas, lo más probable es que era un delincuente y solo el Bibliotecario le dio la oportunidad de cambiar.

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.

.

Este es la historia de Daniel, el ángel que mato a Dios, o por lo menos es lo que él cree, entre sus sueños intenta descifrar los fragmentos rotos de su memoria, pero cada vez que lo intenta siempre despierta y un dolores punzantes lastiman su cabeza, él está maldito por su castigo divino, donde no puede demostrar ninguna de los 7 pecados capitales, cuando lo hace, un dolor intenso como el fuego domina su cuerpo. Ahora debe vivir con esta maldición mientras vive como un humano normal.

No es hasta conocer a un conde que estudia la medicina de la mente, queriendo ayudarlo a él a descifrar lo que lo mantiene en un sufrimiento eterno.

__________________________

(jajaja Japón escribiendo historias y utilizándolos como imagen de la historia)

( También sin contar que le deben maquillar el cuerpo a Sur para ocultar el desmadre de cicatrices que tiene XD)

También en mi dedicación por dibujarlos únicamente, en una lista aleatoria que deje que sonara mientras dibujaba esto, apareció esta canción, que al chile, me mato y le dio mucho sentido como es y será la historia.

Que mi interpretación al final Daniel quiere acabar con el Cielo, pero al mismo tiempo se va enamorando y sintiendo acorralado por ese amor por Frederick.

Por lo de que ya no hay salvación, refiriéndose de que Daniel no dejara nadie vivo en el cielo y al mismo tiempo a la sensación de el amor que llevan los dos hasta el final, pues Frederick esta feliz de ayudarlo con su venganza. Aun que Daniel aun no se de cuenta de que es un amor genuino.

Así que, allí lo demás se les dejo como un AU mas para dibujar.

________________

Espero y les guste ❤️💛🖤

#countryhumans #countryhumans méxico #senig063 #countryhumansméxico #countryhuamns méxico sur #senig #alemex #alesur #countryhumans alemania #countryhumans germany #germex #El Demonio y El Ángel Caído #El_Demonio_y_El_Ángel_Caído #Youtube

[fatehbaz]

The [...] British quest for Tahitian breadfruit and the subsequent mutiny on the Bounty have produced a remarkable narrative legacy [...]. William Bligh’s first attempt to transport the Tahitian breadfruit [from the South Pacific] to the Caribbean slave colonies in 1789 resulted in a well-known mutiny orchestrated by his first mate [...]. [T]he British government [...] successfully transplanted the tree to their slave colonies four years later. [...] [There was a] colonial mania for [...] the breadfruit, [...] [marked by] the British determination to transplant over three thousand of these Tahitian food trees to the Caribbean plantations to "feed the slaves." [...]

Tracing the routes of the breadfruit from the Pacific to the Caribbean, [...] [shows] an effort initiated, coordinated, and financially compensated by Caribbean slave owners [...]. [During] decades worth of lobbying from the West Indian planters for this specific starchy fruit [...] planters [wanted] to avert a growing critique of slavery through a "benevolent" and "humanitarian" use of colonial science [...]. The era of the breadfruit’s transplantation was marked by a number of revolutions in agriculture (the sugar revolution), ideology (the humanitarian revolution), and anticolonialism (the [...] Haitian revolutions) [as well as the American and French revolutions]. [...] By the end of Joseph Banks’ tenure [as a botanist and de facto leader] at the Kew Botanical Gardens [royal gardens in London] (1821), he had personally supervised the introduction of over 7,000 new food and economic plants. [...] Banks produced an idyllic image of the breadfruit [...] [when he had personally visited Tahiti while part of Captain Cook's earlier voyage] in 1769 [...].

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[I]n the wake of multiple revolutions [...], [breadfruit] was also seen as a panacea for a Caribbean plantation context in which slave, maroon, and indigenous insurrections and revolts in St Vincent and Jamaica were creating considerable anxiety for British planters. [...]

Interestingly, the two islands that were characterized by ongoing revolt were repeatedly solicited as the primary sites of the royal botanical gardens [...]. In 1772, when St Vincentian planters first started lobbying Joseph Banks for the breadfruit, the British militia was engaged in lengthy battle with the island’s Caribs. [...] By 1776, months after one of the largest slave revolts recorded in Jamaica, the Royal Society [administered by Joseph Banks, its president] offered a bounty of 50 pounds sterling to anyone who would transfer the breadfruit to the West Indies. [...] [A]nd planters wrote fearfully that if they were not able to supply food, the slaves would “cut their throats.” It’s widely documented that of all the plantation Americas, Jamaica experienced the most extensive slave revolts [...]. An extensive militia had to be imported and the ports were closed. [...]

By seeking to maintain the plantation hierarchy by importing one tree for the diet of slaves, Caribbean planters sought to delay the swelling tide of revolution that would transform Saint Domingue [Haiti] in the next few years. Like the Royal Society of Science and Arts of Cap François on the eve the Haitian revolution, colonists mistakenly felt they could solve the “political equation of the revolution […] with rational, scientific inquiry.” [...]

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When the trees arrived in Jamaica in 1793, the local paper reported almost gleefully that “in less than 20 years, the chief article of sustenance for our negroes will be entirely changed.” […] One the one hand, the transplantation of breadfruit represented the planters’ attempt to adopt a “humanitarian” defense against the growing tide of abolitionist and slave revolt. In an age of revolution, [they wanted to appear] to provide bread (and “bread kind”) [...]. This was a point not to be missed by the coordinator of the transplantation, Sir Joseph Banks. In a letter written while the Bounty was being fitted for its initial journey, he summarized how the empire would benefit from new circuits of botanical exchange:

Ceres was deified for introducing wheat among a barbarous people. Surely, then, the natives of the two Great Continents, who, in the prosecution of this excellent work, will mutually receive from each other numerous products of the earth as valuable as wheat, will look up with veneration the monarch […] & the minister who carried into execution, a plan [of such] benefits.

Like giving bread to the poor, Banks articulated this intertropical trade in terms of “exalted benevolence,” an opportunity to facilitate exchange between the peoples of the global south that placed them in subservience to a deified colonial center of global power. […]

---

Bligh had no direct participation in the [slave] trade, but his uncle, Duncan Campbell (who helped commission the breadfruit journey), was a Jamaican plantation owner and had employed Bligh on multiple merchant ships in the Caribbean. Campbell was also deeply involved, with Joseph Banks, in transporting British convicts to the colonies of Australia. In fact Banks’ original plan for the breadfruit voyage was to drop off convicts in (the significantly named) Botany Bay, and then proceed to Tahiti for the breadfruit. Campbell owned a series of politically untenable prison hulks on the Thames which he emptied by shipping his human chattel to the Pacific. Banks helped coordinate these early settlements [...] to encourage white Australian domesticization.

The commodification and rationalist dispersal of plants and human convicts, slaves, the impoverished, women, and other unwilling participants in global transplantation is a rarely told narrative root of colonial “Bounty.”

---

All text above: Elizabeth DeLoughrey. “Globalizing the Routes of Breadfruit and Other Bounties”. Journal of Colonialism and Colonial History Volume 8, Number 3, Winter 2007. [Bold emphasis and some paragraph breaks/contractions added by me. Presented here for commentary, teaching, criticism purposes.]

#abolition #incredible story of ecology violence hubris landscape cruelty interconnectivity and rebellion

[wyrmfedgrave]

Pics: Inspiring HPL.

1. Irvin S. Cobb - American writer, editor, humorist & columnist hailing from Paducah, Kentucky¹.

He was the highest paid staff reporter on the NY World newspaper².

Irvin would write 60+ books & around 300 short stories.

Some of which were adapted into silent movies. And, 2 of his later tales were actually filmed, by the famed John Ford³, during the 1930s!

2. Cobb's "dark side" (horror works) of the otherwise lighthearted comedian & the story in question.

3 & 4. Comedic frontpieces(?) for books by Cobb. The 2nd even boasts an Abraham Lincoln quote!

5. Cover to Cobb's collection of other authors's short horror tales.

6. Inside art from Fishhead's ending...

1913 Addendum -

Intro: Irvin Cobb's infamous short story "Fishhead" is set in the back- wood bayous of the vast Reelfoot Lake⁴.

Plot: The tale concerns the murder of a local outcast freak by "poor whites."

With its surprise Jaws⁵-like ending, this gruesome work reminds readers of an issue of EC comics⁶!

Criticism: Lovecraft lauded Cobb for, "... Carrying on our (own) spectral tradition is the gifted... humorist, I.S. Cobb, whose works... contain some finely (made) weird (tales)."

Of the plot, Howard stated that, "Fish- head" (is) an early achievement, ... banefully effective in its portrayal of (an) unnatural... hybrid idiot & the strange fish of an isolated lake."

Lovecraft further opined, "It is (my firm) belief... that... few short stories of equal merit have been published anywhere (else)..."

Legacy: Cobb's "Fishhead" is seen as a major influence on Lovecraft's own "Shadow Over Innsmouth."

Robert M. Price⁷ noted that, "What (Howard) found revolting was the idea of interracial marriage (&) of different ethnicities mating, (thus) 'polluting' the (white? human?) gene pool."

Fishhead is supposedly "the son of a Negro father & a halfbreed Indian mother." It's never mentioned what her other half was from...

This is the same premise behind HPL's "The Shadow Over Innsmouth."

Except that Lovecraft calls them Deep Ones & has a whole city that's been 'turned'...

More when we get to this story...

Notes:

1. Paducah, as 1 out of 9 U.S. Creative Cities, is a haven for thinkers, artists & creators!

Architectural Digest recognizes this city's historic district as 1 of the most beautiful main streets in America.

There are 20 downtown blocks listed in the National Register of Historic Places!

Weird Shit: Paducah's nickname is "The Atomic City."

This was because it was once the U.S.'s only uranium plant, making atomic bombs for our Defense Department...

2. The NY World newspaper began (in 1860) as a leading voice for the US Democratic Party.

But, once under Joseph Pulitzer, it became a pioneer in "yellow journalism."

Catching readers's attention with sensational (sex, sport & scandal) news stories.

This raised their circulation past the 1 million mark!!

Best known for being among the 1st to publish daily comic strips.

They actually created "Hogan's Alley", "Everyday Movies", "Little Mary Mix- up" & "Joe Jinks!"

Merged with The NY Telegram in 1931.

Revived - online - in 2011 by Columbia U. But, hasn't had any new content since 2016...

3. John Ford was an American movie director who won Oscars for "The Informer", "The Grapes of Wrath", "How Green Was My Valley" & "The Quiet Man."

The best of his many Westerns are "The Searchers", "Stagecoach" & "My Darling Clementine."

4. Reelfoot Lake is a real lake best known for its shallowness - about 5½ feet on average.

It's located in western Tennessee &, strangely enough, no swimming is allowed there...

The lake is named after an 1800's Chickasaw warrior with a deformed leg...

Reelfoot Bayou, with its cypress trees, flows out of the lake to join the Obion River - which runs straight to the Mississippi.

5. "Jaws" is, of course, director Steven Spielberg's 1st international master- piece.

And it doesn't need any hype, from me, for you to see it again!

97% on Rotten Tomatoes!!

Enough said...

Make it so!

6. E.C. Comics was an American publisher specializing in horror, crime, dark fantasy & sci-fi comicbooks.

William Gaines printed mature tales of war, adventure, satire, etc...

Noted for its stories high quality, shock endings & progressive social awareness.

Among the themes that EC creators touched upon are: racial equality, anti- war sentiments, nuclear disarmament & even early environmentalism!

Sadly, official censorship forced EC to focus on its "Mad" magazine - which became it's greatest success!!

EC has just been revived, by Oni Press, on this past February of 2024!!

Good times guaranteed...

7. R.M. Price is an American biblical scholar, author & an authority on H.P. Lovecraft.

His works include: "Deconstructing Jesus", "The Reason Driven Life", "The New Lovecraftian Circle", "World War Cthulhu", "The Disciples of Cthulhu", "Arkham Detective Agency", "The Da Vinci Fraud", "The Apartheid State in Crisis" & more great stuff!!

Price was the editor of the greatly lamented Crypt of Cthulhu, Midnight Shambler & Eldritch Tales fanzines.

He even edited a whole series of Mythos anthologies for Chaosium.

Today, Price is editor of The Journal of Higher Criticism!

Busy little tentacle, ain't he...

#hpl bio #history #aside #inspiration #weird fiction

[negro-mate]

Primera vez que me tomo unas fotos así y nada mal, creo 🙊

#ask. #negro-mate #me #my post #like #ask anon #tumblr #follow #preguntas #new photos

[aixaarabe]

Juani:

Te escribo porque es el único recurso que encuentro en este momento para quitarme un poco de encima. Porque no te puedo sacar del bocho, del pecho y dolés. 

Sé que no terminamos bien, y no hay palabra ni acto que ya valga. Entiendo que es lo que querías porque por algo lo hiciste. Entiendo que estabas mal y, no tiene sentido que escriba algo respecto a tu decisión, no tiene sentido juzgarte cuando entiendo lo que sentiste.

Quiero odiarte para que no duela tanto pero es que es imposible.

 A cualquiera que te haya conocido si le preguntara, te querría en este plano, y no por todo el sentimiento que conlleva tu perdida, sino porque vos eras de esas personas que trasmitía esa cosa que no sé expresar, adictivamente agradable, podría decir, magnética. Perdón por no haberte dicho lo muchísimo que te quería todas las veces que lo sentí. Sé que no fueron suficientes veces.    Perdóname por alejarte de mi vida; no debí.

No sé que mierda pasa después de la muerte, pero no dejo de preguntarme, que es de tu hermosa alma?

 si estas donde querías?

 si sentís?

 si ahora sos feliz?

Solo eso espero.

Dejaste una tremenda sensación, que aunque lo intente, difícilmente podría llegar a ponerla en palabras:

 por momentos me invade una tremenda oscuridad que me impulsa a romper todo, esa sensación de dolor de ruptura irreparable, esa sensación de calidez al principio de un recuerdo lindo, pero insoportablemente desgarrador cuando caes que jamás vas a volver a vivirlo, que solo es un recuerdo. Me acompaña el miedo de olvidarte. Agradecerle a este universo cada milésima de segundo compartido con vos. 

Te puedo recordar vestidito con pantalón corte chino negro y camisa impecablemente blanca, ese mediodía en el que apareciste en mi vida. Tan hermoso!

Decime, tuvo algún sentido esta vida? 

Te acordarás de nosotros, como nosotros de vos?

 Jamas voy a pensarte juiciosamente.

 Quiero decirte que donde mierda estés forro de mierda no me voy a olvidar de vos, aunque eso implique ver tus videos desayunando, almorzando y cenando, escuchar tus audios a cualquier hora o  ver tu foto de fondo en cada pantalla.

En mi cabeza resuena tu voz imitando la señora que trabaja en la remisería y dice: ‘Aaaaaaaay despaciiiiiiiiiitooo’ con tu risa finita acompañada del sonido de un globo desinflándose . Aflojale al pucho pajero!

Me resulta imposible calmar lo que siento, pero entiendo que este sentimiento, es compañía del aborrecido duelo, igual, que sentido tiene? si hay algo que le gana a todo esfuerzo que pongo en evadirte o disolverte de mis pensamientos y preguntas como:

 por qué te ignoré la ultima vez que hablamos?

 hubiese sido diferente si no me alejaba?

 Hubiera podido hacer algo? 

Flotan en el mar de mi cabeza acompañadas de un ancla de culpa tan pero tan pesada. 

 Sinceramente pensé que estabas bien!

Pienso que seguir escribiendo va a ser en vano.

Amigo, tengo miedo. Pasaron cosas y estoy embarazada. Qué loco no? Ya sé lo que me dirías: “Tenés que tenerlo” pero no puedo tenerlo y me duele como nunca pensé, pero no puedo realmente. Para variar estoy en una sin parar, y es que en este momento hay mucho que siento no aguantar y he flaqueado en mi voluntad de sobriedad. Nadie mejor que vos para entender este sentimiento de querer terminarme cuando el sol sale, cuando me veo sola y en una oscuridad sin fin. Que huevos! es que yo no puedo.

  Loco que ganas verte los dedos chuecos cebando esos mates de yerba Rey Verde, tirados en el sillón de tu casa, en un día lluvioso como hoy, sin la fucking ansiedad de la abstinencia, viendo Netflix y burlándonos de la gente entre puchos y risas de globo desinflándose. 

Que ganas de que cocines ese hígado encebollado, con arroz, tan rico! No sé, de caminar al kiosco entre charlas optimistas de adictos en recuperación, charlas en las que nos visualizamos sin secuelas de consumo, así, felizmente recuperados y plenamente ricos (gracias a la educación financiera de la que vos hablas que te enseñan en tu trabajo) lejos de ambientes no plenos. 

Que ganas de las charlas en las que te explayas y abrís tu corazón respecto a tus sentimientos para con Moni, Bere, Juanita y la Juli. -las mujeres de tu vida loco-. 

Que ganas de abrazarte fuerte, de cansarme de verte, de nunca haber leído que te quitaste la vida.

Tu sonrisa irremplazable, tu carisma inigualable, tu paciencia admirable y el amor con el que te manejabas será imborrable en la memoria de cualquier suertudo que lo haya palpado Juani, nadie nos va a devolver, ni asemejarse a sentir nuevamente si quiera algo de lo que vos nos diste.

#despedida #perdida #suicidio #amigo #te extraño #recuerdos #sentimientos #te amo #te voy a extrañar #adios #vida #amor #amigos #familia #drogas #aborto #carta de despedida #carta #cartas de amor #dolor #angustia #bronca

[karinanails69]

#ilikekn69 #uñas #gelish #pestañas #cejas #uñasacrilicas #guadalajara #zapopan #KarinaNails69 #KN69 #nails #jalisco #mexico #sinfiltro #frances #negro #mate #swarovski #manoalzada #manos #diciembre #navidad (en Karina Nails 69) https://www.instagram.com/p/Cmsc7RquGQh/?igshid=NGJjMDIxMWI=

#ilikekn69 #uñas #gelish #pestañas #cejas #uñasacrilicas #guadalajara #zapopan #karinanails69 #kn69 #nails #jalisco #mexico #sinfiltro #frances #negro #mate #swarovski #manoalzada #manos #diciembre #navidad

[elixirlunatica]

JUANA

Juana está comiendo una factura de membrillo bañada en almíbar que le pegotea todos los dedos. No duda en chuparlos, saborea el dulce disfrutando hasta la última miga. Suelta pensamientos sobre el clima, intentando hacer silencio mental; los nervios por el exámen final que rinde la semana que viene, la atormentan. Está sentada sobre su bolso cuadrille, apoyada sobre una de las grandes ventanas de la estación de buses de *Retiro. Mientras agarra con fuerza su mochila, donde no tiene nada de valor pero sí algunos libros y resúmenes, piensa si algún ratero atina osado a adueñarse de sus cosas, eso le robaría mucho tiempo y trabajo y en este momento, es todo lo que tiene. Sabe que la zona no es confiable, hay que tener 4 ojos, estar atenta, los ladrones son rápidos en Buenos Aires. Espera el Flecha bus que la llevará a Entre Ríos. Hace tres años que no vive allá, pero el litoral no deja de ser su única casa. Sabe que ahí, se puede desplomar a tomar mate con su mamá si le va mal en la facultad, se puede divertir con sus amigas, pasarla bien con su novio Entrerriano. Él la espera siempre, parado debajo del techo viejo y descascarado de la terminal del pueblo. Antes de partir, lee algunos apuntes. Mientras espera, prepara sus auriculares de cable negro pelado, sintoniza su radio favorita y espera pacientemente a que llegue la hora de embarcar.  La radio es pequeñita y plateada, la encontró en un asiento de los tantos colectivos que tomó para ir a Entre Ríos. Juana tiene mucha suerte, siempre la vida es muy generosa con ella. Se sumerge en los sonidos borrosos que salen del aparato, sabe que en la ruta hay muchos tramos sin señal de radio, así que aprovecha la espera acompañada de la emisora de turno.  Una sola vez Juana que perdió un bondi, ese día llegó sobre la hora culpa de un corte en la 9 de julio, ¿alguna vez, no hay un corte en la 9 de julio? recuerda como aquella vez corría y corría para llegar. Pero Juana no sabe correr, siempre tuvo las tetas grandes y le duelen mucho cuando corre. Pero esa vez, llegó a Retiro, corrió desesperada de la única manera que puede correr, agarrándose las tetas, y literalmente fue detrás del colectivo por dos cuadras, cargando su bolso cuadrille al hombro, que nunca le pesa mucho, porque sabe viajar liviana. El colectivo se fue sin siquiera amagar a frenar, ella se sentó a llorar en un cordón, afuera de Retiro, sin importar lo peligroso que podía ser eso, quizás estaba llorando porque hacía unos meses se había muerto su papá, pero la angustia muchas veces se disfraza y es más fácil llorar porque perdiste un colectivo que porque perdiste a tu papá. Después de moquear con ruido exagerado unos 30 minutos, se levantó y empezó a buscar opciones para resolver la situación. Unos días más tarde, empezó terapia por primera vez y fue ahí donde se dió cuenta, que ella, es buena buscando soluciones.   Mientras aparecen esos recuerdos y merecimientos en su cabeza, Juana sigue sentada sobre su bolsito, se le duermen un poco las piernas, le pega pisotones fuertes al piso intentando despertarlas, está terminando la factura pegajosa y toma un largo sorbo de jugo de naranja, esos de cartoncito que son sus preferidos. Se acuerda de aquella vez que perdió el bondi, se ríe de su imagen destartalada intentando alcanzarlo sin éxito. Está segura que el colectivero la vió <<Que forro, no paró y yo lloré por 3 días>> recuerda y se ríe. Ahora sabe perfectamente que no lloró 3 días porque perdió un colectivo.    

A Juana nunca le gustó quedarse quieta, Retiro le representa el movimiento que empezó tan temprano en su vida y eso la hace feliz. Juana no se imaginaba que tanto tiempo más tarde, el olor a sucio y los chicles pegados de los asientos de Retiro, tendrían tanto sentido. Acelerando muy rápido en su historia, Retiro se convirtió en ese lugar que durante 10 años la vió reír, llorar, duelar,  emocionarse, despedirse, darle la bienvenida a una nueva etapa, comer alfajores de fruta o unos panchos con gusto a agua estancada que se convencía que estaban buenos. Fueron 10 años de ir y venir a Entre Ríos. Aquella vez que perdió el colectivo, o esa vez sentada con la factura pegajosa, fueron algunas de las tantas miles de veces, que Juana escucho la radio volviendo a casa. Después de tantas idas y vueltas, Juana cambió su vida, se fué más lejos, empezó a viajar por el mundo y las vueltas a casa eran cada vez más espaciadas, cumplió todos sus sueños, jugó con el tiempo. Rompió algún corazón, le destrozaron el alma alguna vez. Amo profundamente la vida y padeció, alguna que otra vez, el dolor insoportable de estar en esta Tierra. Ayudó a muchas personas a sentirse mejor. Fue una gran amiga. Juana fue feliz, y sus recuerdos y anécdotas deben ser impresionantes. 

Ahora Juana es enorme, tiene muchos años. Tantos que ya no se acuerda su nombre, ni el olor de su perfume favorito, ni las horas que dedicó a estudiar mil cosas diferentes. Solo se acuerda del olor a sucio que había en Retiro hace más de 60 años. Ni los viajes, ni los amores, ni todas las comidas deliciosas que probó. Juana solo se acuerda de una escena, cuando era Joven, tetona y podía correr, solucionar problemas sola y escuchar la radio. Hace unos días su sobrina buscó por todos lados hasta dar con una radio de esas plateadas y pequeñas, una reliquia. Se la llevó al geriatrico y cuando Juana la vió, pareció volver a conectar con la vida, con su vida; una suave y tranquila sonrisa se le dibujó en la cara, abrazo a su sobrina y se emocionó. Fué la primera vez en algunos años que su expresión se parecía a ella misma. Ya no existen los programas de radio, entonces cuando Juana pide escucharla, la enfermera le da play a alguna lista de esas virtuales, simulando, como cuando un niño toma el té en tazas vacías, la enfermera pone la radio sobre la mesa y reproduce algo que sale por otros parlantes.  Desde que se reencontró con la radio, algo mágico pasó. Cuando Juana se despierta, cada mañana le dan té con una factura de membrillo, porque se niega a comer cualquier otra cosa. Mientras desayuna como reina, escucha ¨su radio¨ y cuenta todos los días la misma historia: 

¨Estoy sentada en mi bolso cuadrille, muy puntual como siempre, comiendo una factura de membrillo, tomando un jugo de naranja, mi preferido. Hay olor a sucio, pero no me importa, porque estoy escuchando la radio, muy atenta a que no me roben. Creo que Retiro es mi lugar preferido del mundo. Vamos a Retiro? me quiero ir a casa.¨

#authors #textos #frases #escritos #pensamientos #lo que escribo

[royalrazz37]

Disclaimer: I love this film. These are just my critics. I know someone else has already pointed these issues out and better than I ever could. Just wanted to get my thoughts out. Feel free to link their analysis

Post Disclaimer Disclaimer: A lot of these may be petty and have no real solution so I apologize preemptively.

Without further ado here is an aging millennial’s concerns with: The Lion King (1994)

Small nitpicks first

Incest

Usually lion prides have a single adult male that mates with all the females but in this case there are two, Mufasa and Scar, meaning, that at best Simba and Nala are first cousins and at worst siblings, getting married and having children.

On the flip side there is nothing more royal than keeping it all in the family.

Say his name

What is Scar’s real name? I know it can probably be found somewhere but i think it’s pretty messed up it’s never said in the movie. Also making someone’s physical feature their name is rude. Its like calling someone Hairy, Big Nose, or Six-Fingered Man.

Sexiest Lion

From what I remember learning about lions, the males with darker manes are seen as more attractive. So why is my man Scar not getting hole? I know its a kids movie but could we at least see a couple dark furred cubs running about? (I know about Kovu)

Choice of voice actors

Why are all the good characters voiced by white people? (Exceptions for James and Madge) and all the bad guys are POC? And its some extra ish when only the lackeys are POC. The big bad is white. Colored folk can’t even be their own boss.

And i know the remake “fixed” this but we’re not talking about the new woke Disney.

Now the real gripes

Monarchy and leadership

While the idea of a hereditary monarchy is bad enough the main plot strongly implies divine right is just and desirable.

Mufasa is supposed to be king and this is reflected by the kingdom being pristine and in balance.

Scar, who is not ordained by the sky daddies, takes the throne and all falls to ruin.

Then the “rightful king” returns, restoring prosperity to the land.

It gives credence to the idea that a higher power has to approve of a leader for things to go right. That those in power are there because that is how it’s supposed to be.

Look, little one. See what happens when you try to break the status quo? Bad things happen. Be happy with your lot in life.

If you try to rise above your station like Scar, well. You saw what happened. (I know Scar murdered fools but you get my drift)

“But Razz” I hear you say. “The reason things went bad is because Scar had the hyenas live in the pride lands and they ate everything. Those slobbering mangy stupid poachers!”

Aha! I say. You activated my trap card.

US History as a Metaphor

I think its safe to say that the hyenas are coded as POC. As such the idea of their integration into the pride lands being the catalyst for its blight is troubling.

It harkens back to the fear of the negro moving into cities during white flight. Hyenas/blacks move in and everything goes to shit.

Thats why we keep them in their elephant graveyards and shadow lands (the ghettos) so the blight doesn’t spread.

And if one of the hyenas do come into the pride lands we send our strong alpha Mufasa to beat and brutalize them.

Also the hyenas are painted as gluttons for wanting to eat. THEY WERE IN A LITERAL GRAVEYARD.

Of course they’re hungry. Of course they’d want to eat everything they could. They were forced to live that way.

Now lets draw a line.

Hyenas are always hungry because they live in a food desert and actual desert.

They live there because of enforced segregation by the lions.

Lions who then blame the the hyenas for being hungry and use that as justification to continue segregation and harsh policing of the hyenas movements.

Sounds familiar.

And the film’s solution to all this is a return to the status quo. Yuck.

Not to mention the sequel where there’s a reconciliation between the lionesses who supported Scar and the pridelanders because Kiara says “We’re the same”. I know I’m probably grasping a straws here but that moment felt like the Irish and Italians gaining whiteness.

Ok rant over.

#lion king #lion king 1994 #Razz Rants #my rants