the games black girls play

May Dragneel

I don’t have a properly title for this, but it’s what it says.

May Dragneel belongs ot @keiid​ . It’s her Zervis daughter.

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Year X802, Magnolia. Inside a little house, a pink haired man and a black haired little girl were playing a card game.


- You win again, May - said the pink haired man -. I have nothing to invalidate your hand.

- I knew I was going to win since we started playing.

- You really are like your mother.


The little girl smiled. In that moment, the front door opened, and a blonde woman entered in the house.


- Mama! - yelled the little girl while running to the woman.

- Hello sweetie! - said the woman, taking the girl in her arms -. What are you doing here, Natsu?

- Larcade asked me to watch over May - answered Natsu -. He needed to go to a mission.

- Do you know something about Zeref?

- No, nothing. Sorry, Mavis.


May’s face changed when she listened the name “Zeref”. She was mad.


- She’s still mad for what happened a month ago? - asked Natsu.

- She really wanted that fairy doll, and Zeref promised it to her, but…

- I know. I was helping Zeref to find it for a week.

- He’s been missing since that.

- I should go. Lucy will yell at me if I’m late to lunch today.

- Tell me if you know something about Zeref.

- I will.

- Bye, dragon! - yelled May.

-  Bye princess.


Natsu left the house, leaving mother and daughter alone.


- You can’t be mad at your father forever, May.

- He said a Dragneel never breaks it’s promises. He did. I won’t forgive him.


Mavis hugged his daughter. She knew very well how much May wanted that doll.


Later that evening, the door opened slowly. A black haired man entered in the house, trying to not be discovered.


- Zeref Dragneel! - yelled Mavis, seeing the man -. Where have you been this month!?

- It’s long to explain, but short to demonstrate.


Zeref went where May was and put a fairy doll in front of her. She was still mad at him, and didn’t want to look at him, but she looked at the doll.


- That’s not the one I wanted - said May.

- I know. You wanted the black haired doll, not the blonde. But I couldn’t find it anywhere.

- I don’t want that one.

- I have a compensation for that. Can you look at me for a second?


May looked at her father, with anger in her eyes. But her eyes sparkled when she saw what her father had in his hands.


- Now, tell me. Why do you need a fairy doll with black hair when you can be a fairy? - asked Zeref.

- I love you, daddy!


May jumped and hugged Zeref. Then, she took the fairy costume and ran upstairs.


- Well, two promises less - said Zeref.

- You didn’t promise her any fairy costume - said Mavis.

- I promised a fairy to you.

- May is not a fairy, even with a costume.

- Are you sure?


May ran downstairs, with the costume on. Mavis put her hands in her mouth and cried.


- How do I look, mama? - asked May.

- Like a real fairy - answered Mavis.

- I told you - said Zeref -. Our daughter is like a fairy.

- You don’t have anything to say, Zeref?

- Happy late birthday, May.

- Thank you, papa!

The Games Black Girls Play: Learning the Ropes from Double-Dutch to Hip-Hop by Kyra D. Gaunt

When we think of African American popular music, our first thought is probably not of double-dutch: girls bouncing between two twirling ropes, keeping time to the tick-tat under their toes. But this book argues that the games black girls play —handclapping songs, cheers, and double-dutch jump rope—both reflect and inspire the principles of black popular musicmaking.

The Games Black Girls Play illustrates how black musical styles are incorporated into the earliest games African American girls learn—how, in effect, these games contain the DNA of black music.  [book link]

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At the same time, you’ve got a legitimate right to be angry!  

READ: “Why I’m Absolutely an Angry Black Woman” by Dominique Matti 

“Because when I was five, my kindergarten classmate told me I couldn’t be the princess in the game we were playing because black girls couldn’t be princesses. Because I was in third grade the first time a teacher seemed shocked at how “well-spoken” I was. Because in fourth grade I was told my crush didn’t like black girls. 

Because I am not seen as a woman. Because I am not allowed to be fragile. Because the nurse that checked me in at the hospital to deliver wouldn’t look my husband in the eye. Because the vast majority of people won’t look my husband in the eye. Because when the doctors put my son in my arms and I saw that he was as dark as his father, I knew life would be even harder for him.

Because I am trapped here. Because the playing field isn’t leveled. Because I love my skin. Because I love being a woman. Because not hating myself is considered radical. Because I’ve been called racist for defending myself. Because all the major protests are for cis black men. Because I’ve been told that talking about the women who’ve died is taking away from the real issue.

Because I get no break from fighting. Because everything is a struggle. Because my anger isn’t validated. Because they don’t care about my pain. Because they don’t believe in my pain. Because they forgive themselves without atoning. Because I’m not free. Because the awareness of it permeates everything. Because it’s not ending. Because they teach the children that it’s already ended. Because someone will assert their supremacy over me today. Because they’ll do it tomorrow.

Because I want more. Because I deserve better.”

Read the full piece here

Перепрохожу любимые игры и открываю для себя новые.
Все очень хорошо складывается, осталось только с учебой разобраться.

I’m sorry for losing my temper the night you told me Louis proposed to you. I’m sorry for not waiting longer at the Empire State Building. I’m sorry for treating you like property. I’m sorry I didn’t tell you I loved you when I knew I did. Most of all I’m sorry I gave up on us when you never did.