angry waves

She is going to walk through that door;
a mess of smiles and rain-kissed hair,
and you’re going to want her.
Want her name in your mouth, her hands on your heart.
But you will have to wait. She’s not the person
you are meant to love yet.  

She’s got to fumble on her own first,
show others the pink in her mouth and spring
in her heart. She’s going to take sadness to bed
and call it intimate. Call it loving.

She’s going to hurt.

And yet
she’s going to make herself smile
so you can smile together.  

No matter how angry the storm, the waves always
hug the shore. Eventually people return home.
Scraped knees and purple under her eyes;
she’s going to come back.
She’ll smile something like heartbreak,
say, look at you, look at you,
I’ve been growing my heart for yours.

       “Saving us for when we’re better,” Alaska Gold

From Growing Light, available on amazon! 

I get that y'all are excited to see them again. To see them as 7. I also get that you all waited a long time at the airport to see them and that’s okay. But pushing them, shoving them, forcing cameras right in front of their faces (i don’t give a shit whether they’re cameras or phones), screaming into their ears in bloody murder, yelling out ‘daddy’ or getting angry at security for telling you to back off is NOT OKAY. They are human beings, not animals. They spent hours and hours on on a plane and only to be greeted like shit. they could’ve gotten seriously hurt. GIVE THEM PERSONAL SPACE.

Mess o’ Mine

Harry X Reader: Angst, smut

In which Harry’s stolen from you and needs to fix it.

Request? No

Part 2: Mouth o’ Mine // Part 3: Mind o’ Mine

The apartment is dark, lights dimmed so you can set the mood for what you expect to be an emotional performance. Your laptop is plugged into the television and the screen is flickering, splashing colors across your face from a product commercial. Harry is across the world, about to premiere a song from his upcoming album on a popular talk show. Despite how excited you are to hear the music, you’re still nervous for him, as you always are. There’s no doubt in your mind that he’ll smash whatever he performs, but he always seems to get in his own way.

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Good Little Angel

Word count: 2,034

Warning: smut, little bit of fluff, teasing, dom!Lucifer, sub!Lucifer

Pairing: Lucifer x Reader

Summary/Request: Thank you @curlyxtomato for your request!

Lucifer has to help the Winchesters but there is some awkwardness when Y/N realises that he is an old hook up of hers. Leads to some passionate sex and a lot of teasing and self-denial.

Originally posted by lucifersagents

“We’re working with you, not because we want to, but because we have to.” Dean sighed.

You were currently sitting beside an agitated Sam who was trying his best not to look over the table at none other than Lucifer himself.

“It’s good to see you guys too.” Lucifer grinned. You scoffed. Immediately his head spun round to see you, now trying to sink into your seat subtly. “Oh I know you love having me around Y/N. You find me irresistible.” He almost sneered at you.

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Feel Everythin’

Originally posted by natpekis

Summary: Bucky’s forgotten many facets of being human, from kindness to sharing a touch. There’s something about you, however, that’s been resurrecting a piece of his old self, a piece of a man that wasn’t afraid of the human touch, of a man that craved it.

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Reader

Wordcount: 3,621

A/N: This is for Carolina’s prompt game! Congrats on 7k, Caro! I also wanna thank Kumi’s bitch ass for helping me with some smol mistakes in this! Thanks friendo!


Bucky Barnes has difficulty in remembering the times when he knew that the human touch wasn’t so bad.

The quick pace of his new life as an Avenger distracts him from the fact that he doesn’t know himself too well, either. Bucky knows that his real name is James Buchanan Barnes, he knows his dead sister’s name was Rebecca, and he knows that Steve Rogers used to be a good friend of his, but he has no clue who he is, who he was.

It is a cruel fact of his life that is cruel that haunts him day in and day out.

He tries, though. He tires himself out trying to remember what it used to feel like to be human. No, not just human; he tries to remember what it used to feel like to be a human that could feel something other than cool grief, a human that could yearn the human touch, one that could feel something akin to warmth.

Warmth is such a foreign notion to Bucky.

Therefore, when he first meets you and he feels something tender and warm blossoming in the pit of his nervous belly, he can’t help but revere you indefinitely.

He does so with bashful glances when you’re not looking.

It’s odd, really. Steve always told you Bucky used to be quite the talker and quite the charming young man.

But, then again, that was back then, back in a time where humanity still couldn’t fathom the idea of greedy hands controlling a terrified young man’s mind.

So, you don’t think much of Steve’s friend’s serious demeanor. You reason that it isn’t so easy to be all that happy after being tortured and controlled by the likes of HYDRA.

You don’t take it so personally when Bucky gives you nothing more than one-word or two-word answers. It’s efficient enough that he gets his point across, but it leaves you wanting a little more.

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I’ve been watching the film She’s Beautiful When She’s Angry (it’s on Netflix), a documentary about women’s rights movements in the sixties and seventies. It’s really good but my favorite part so far is the brief mention of the WITCH movement, which I hadn't heard of until now. 

Some feminist groups in the sixties and seventies called themselves “Women’s International Terrorist Conspiracy from Hell (WITCH)” They pretended to hex misogynists… it seems amazing but they only stayed around for about two years.

Can we bring this back please?


Trapped - Dean Winchester

Summary ;; part I. demon!dean decides that he doesn’t like dean’s long term girlfriend, y/n, and makes a harsh attempt to get rid of her for good.

A/n ;; gifs are not mine !!

Warnings ;; shit tons of violence, near death of reader, some swearing, angsty angst, season ten spoilers

Words ;; 3.3k

Published ;; 8th april, ‘17


Stay safe + ily🍁

When you sleepily awoke late at night to the sound of a deep growl and exasperated shouts emitting from down the hall, you pieced together that Sam had finally located Dean and brought him back home. Whether it was willingly or not, you didn’t know just yet.

He had been out searching for your boyfriend for the past week while he made you sit in the bunker in your lonesome, refusing to let you hunt alone or join him on his travels as he repeatedly told you that Dean was dangerous at the moment, as if you didn’t understand.

You sat up slowly, holding the warm duvet around your body tightly as you eyed the door, second-guessing whether this was another one of your reoccurring nightmares or reality. However, when Sam’s resentful and deep voice bellowed his brother’s name heatedly, you shoved the covers away from your frame and jumped up from your bed, nevertheless.

You jogged down the lonely hallway, any traces of sleep rapidly erased by the time you reached the dungeon and knocked on the door, your hesitancy clear. “Sam?” Your voice was hushed and seemingly small as you asked for the younger Winchester through the silence on both sides, “What’s going on?”

The sound of said door unlocking from the other side rang through your ears and you subconsciously held your breath, anxious for what you were about to witness. You expected to come face to face with the two arguing brothers, jumping down each other’s throats for what had happened previously.

And you expected to see your boyfriend of three years who you hadn’t seen since he been deprived of existence by Metatron, and you did. However, things were different. Your eyes instantly landed on Dean, who was heavily roped to a chair smack bang in the middle of a blood red devil’s trap and a cocky, sardonic smirk written on his lips. You couldn’t stop yourself from drawing in a sharp breath, your body freezing as you stared into his cold, desolate, void eyes.

“And here come’s the useless one, (Y/N)! Nice of you to join the party,” He let out a snarl, leaning forward in his seat as the harsh glare in his eyes bore into yours and you had to avert your teary ones away, your heart thumping tremendously loudly in your chest at the scene.

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femblues-deactivated20170623  asked:

If I remember correctly, the KKK, was organized by democrats. Also democrats do continue to be violent and hateful to this day. There are good liberal people and conservative ones. There are also horrible people from every corner of the political spectrum and if you fail to acknowledge this you're probably one of the nuts.

Oh no, it’s this stupid shit again. Sit down folks, it’s time for another history lesson. You do remember some things correctly, but you’re forgetting about 150+ years of political history.

You’re not wrong, in the sense that many of the people who founded the KKK were Democrats, you’re just silly because you’re totally ignoring the historical context of American politics to make a point in our modern political environment and if you took 5 minutes to study the historical development of the parties you would realize how dumb that is.

Andrew Jackson officially founded the Democratic Party when he became president in 1828. He did so by appealing to the poor rural farmers of the South and Midwest. Things like destroying the central banks, removing Native Americans from their land, and leaving slavery just how it was, were all tenets of his campaign.

Andrew Jackson was the first populist in American politics and he rode a wave of angry, rural, white men to the White House. Sounds a lot like Hillary Clinton and the modern day Democrats, right? /s

Here’s a map just so you can get a better feel for it. In 1828 the only really developed part of the country was the North East and honestly that election highlighted the Urban/Rural divide of the time just as well as the election of 2016 did today.

This was a trend that would continue up until the Civil War, with bubbles of xenophobia like the Know Nothings, the rise and fall of the Whigs, and eventually the Civil War itself can all be tied to the agrarian, poorer, rural regions of the country struggling to adapt to the early days of the industrial revolution. It’s not a coincidence the white folks in the North became opposed to slavery incredibly slowly and only as the system of factories could adequately provide everything they needed.

The south developed a lot slower and wasn’t as keen on questioning slavery and the Democratic Party had aligned itself with those interests. After the Civil War many in the South voted Democrat no matter what because the republicans WERE “the Party of Lincoln.”

This is the era where terms like the solid south and “yellow dog Democrat” referring to the fact that people in the South would vote Democrats no matter what, come into use. These are also the voters who would join the KKK. The poor, white, rural voters of the south formed the KKK. Poor, white rural voters also formed the Democratic Party. For decades they handed the South to Democratic Politicians, repeatedly.

Here’s a map from 1896, William Jennings Bryan, the quintessential agrarian populist. Basically every map looks the exact same with Democrats scooping up the South.

Until 1948, wen Harry S Truman decided to integrate the army, against the wishes of the strong Southern Democrats wing of the party. Who broke off and formed “the Dixiecrats.” All to oppose integrating the army.

See how the some voters in the South decided to vote “State’s rights Democratic” AKA Keep the Democratic Party Racist Again.

The Dixiecrats were on the wrong side of history though and the party wasn’t going to back down on integration, which pushed people out of the party slowly over the course of the next 20 years. It would open the door for people like Geeorge Wallace and Strom Thurmand the racist wing of the Democratic Party’s leader would soon switch to the Republican Party, a trend many southern voters would follow.

From 1948 to 1972 you can watch the Southern Democratic Party struggle to maintain it’s identity.

1956 they are still solidly Democrat, race politics weren’t tat big of a deal in that election although you see that little brown sliver in between Mississippi and Alabama, they were still a big deal in South and many of those voters knew they would have to jump ship soon.

In 1964 many Southern states voted Republican for the first time since the Civil War.

In 1968 those same states voted for George Wallace and his segregationist platform, something Richard Nixon was determined to not let happen again in 1972. Which forced him to campaign heavily on his “southern strategy” which was really just being racist in the South and tailoring his capmaign to would be Wallace voters.

It worked.

Basically every election since 1972 the Republicans have won “the solid south.”

All the way up until 2016, since 1972, minus Jimmy Carter, the Republican candidate has won the South. Republicans now run the South just as solidly as the Democrats did from the Civil War on.

So when you and people like you make the claim that “Democrats started the KKK” you’re not necessarily wrong. But it’s stupid because it’s totally ignorant of how the parties have changed over the decades.

The average southern white, rural voter is a Republican today, but was a Democrat for much of American political history. That changed about 40 years ago and doesn’t seem to be changing back any time soon. Their grandparents were in the KKK, their grandparents voted Democrat, but as a block of rural, poor white voters, culturally aligned with the South, they flipped.

So Democrats may have started the KKK, but those KKK members would be Republicans today.

As to your other points, there are definitely good people who are conservative, but I don’t really know what you’re getting at with that. Because good people can make bad political decisions that hurt millions of people, they did it in 1828 and again in 2016. I don’t think every Trump voter is a bad person but I think they all did a bad thing.

The Houses as Ocean Things


A boat bobbing atop the waves. For as far as the eye can see: water. No shores, no sky. Only blue. Sparkling light, and seagulls, and blue, blue, blue for miles upon miles upon miles. Out here, it is beautiful. Out here, the world is its own type of peaceful, its own type of dangerous. Many who dare to cross these waves never return. Many set out on a journey, set out to explore, only to find themselves lost at sea. They bob among the waves without a set course. There is so much water. 

The boat continues to float, and the clouds roll in.


The crash of the waves. Hungry. Angry. A storm roils above, and the water churns in anticipation. It does not seethe for the sake of anger. No. The water is wise. It knows the dangers that threaten its inhabitants, it knows what it must do to protect them. Stinging spray greets the air. Cold and biting, it leaves skin red, flays paint off wood. The seagulls flee to higher ground as it rages. Protect, protect, protect. White foam crests the once calm blue, stark against the shadows of the storm. The sea will win this fight. It always does. Far below, the skeletons of ships linger to tell the tales. The water stills for just a moment, a breath. The rain drums atop its back. 

The ocean strikes.


Immeasurable amounts of water. Depths that descend far into darkness before they even begin to consider ending. The chilling cold that comes with darkness, the silence. The calm. Sunlight filtering in from above in lazy rays, a promise of warmth upon return. Bubbles escaping upwards. A sensation of weightlessness, the journey through layer upon layer of the sea. Unknowing. The creatures don’t have names down here. You don’t have a name down here. There is nothing. There is everything. There is water. 

At long last, cold feet brush a sandy floor.


Tentacles that drift through the water without purpose, ghosting across the rocks, the sand. A school of fish that darts between strands of seaweed. Turtles with slow, blinking eyes. Corals that come clearly into focus despite the blur of the water. Color. Red and yellow, blue and green. Black. Gray. Not all of the creatures are beautiful. Some have teeth. Some bite, some hunt, they say that some even smell blood. There are sharks here. There are things worse than sharks. Nothing is safe, and yet…the water is calm, seaweed dances in the current. The silence is unnerving. Sometimes, the predators don’t strike until it’s too late, until there is nowhere to swim. 

A shadow passes overhead.

Fix Me

Raphael (2014/16) x Reader

Notes: Your wish is my command c: Thanks for requesting, and sorry for the wait!

Prompt: “Could you do a RaphxMutant!Reader where the reader has had the WORST day possible and just wants to collapse and cry and when Leo picks on her a bit, she does so?” @mentallydestroyedfemme

Word count: 1064

Warnings: Swearing, Death

Disclaimer: I don’t own TMNT, and you belong to you <3

It was the day the moon fell.

You woke some time in the afternoon, promising yourself that you would make the most out of the rest of the day. After all, it’s not everyday that you got to go to the surface.  

But that changed when Master Splinter completely shut down your exploration quest.

“Did you do your chores last night? Or did you pay Michelangelo to do them, [Y/N]?” his voice was stern, his eyes solid on your face.

“W-well-” you couldn’t come up with a good excuse, but just glared at Mikey, who was stood behind Splinter, staring at the ground. Rolling your eyes, you snatched the broom out of Mikey’s hand and went to re-do the chores that were already done with drooped ears.

The rest of the day wasn’t any better.

“[Y/N] do this!”

“[Y/N] do that!”

You were sick of it, and were on the edge of an emotional breakdown. Why’d you have to clean anyway, it’s the sewers. Living with the turtles wasn’t your life goal, but it wasn’t that bad. You just had to get used to it. You’d grown up quite sheltered, and you did have loving parents. But all that changed when you got home on May 12th.

Bleary eyed, you walked up the steps of your home, opening the door to find an empty house. Even the furniture was gone. Of course you panicked to begin with, millions of conclusions rushing to your head at once, all of them put to rest when you walked cautiously into your barren living room.

Blood. Your feet carried you forward as you stared down at the two bodies on the ground. You don’t remember if you screamed or not, but you did feel your chest tighten, your body trembling and your world crashing to a halt.

Unfortunately, you weren’t the only one in that house that night. You felt a crack against the back of your head, and the heavy footsteps walking and stopping in front of you.

After that night, you’d forever been stuck with the exterior of a cat. It was a remake of the original green ooze that seemed to have only worked on you for some reason. And because of that, the masked figures that killed your parents took an interest in you and kidnapped you. Long story short, the green terrapins that you now deem your family, rescued you, and you would be grateful for as long as you lived.

One particular person you became very close to over the months was Raphael; he was your best friend after all. But you couldn’t help but hope for more. The more time you spent with him, whether it be reading in the room you shared with him, or watching him work out, you fell a little bit more for him. The way his lips curled up when he tried not to smile. The way he’d grunt in his sleep when he’d turn over or try to get comfortable. The way he knew every lyric to every song you liked. The way he’d sing them with you. The way he opened up to you, and how he always seemed to try and get you to open up.

If you didn’t know any better, you’d think he liked you too, but you were way too broken to even think about someone actually reciprocating your feelings. Who wanted damaged goods? 

“[Y/N], when you’re done with the rest of the lair, feel free to go make me a sandwich.” Leo grinned, laughing to himself as Mikey knitted his eye ridges together before shaking his head and going back to his game.

“I’m not your fucking maid, dickhead.” You threw the feather duster at his head, and he just turned around, glaring back at you. From where Mikey was sat, your body was practically shaking like an angry wave, ready to splash and diminish any kind of sandcastle building, which is why he got out of there before the yelling began.

“You know what your problem is?”

“Please, enlighten me you insensitive douche.” That made him scoff, standing up and walking over to you and getting close to your face.

“You want everyone to feel bad for you because you lost your parents, but guess what? Everybody has been through shit, and it’s time you grew up [Y/N], and stopped being so weak and pathetic.” What he said next really hit a nerve, but like he said, you were too weak and pathetic to do anything. “It probably wasn’t even murder, they probably killed themselves after having dealt with you for so many fucking years.” With that, he took a seat back on the couch and you lowered your head, the tears pouring down your fluffy cheeks, matting the fur with the salty liquid.

Raphael was stood next to the entrance of the lair, and he heard everything, and was about to burst into the room to kick the living shit out of Leo for saying all of that, but when he got to where you had been stood, he just watched you walk into your bedroom. He didn’t have to hesitate to know he had to go and comfort you, or at least try to.

“Hey, ya okay?” you didn’t pick your head up as your body continued to spasm with sobs and cries. Rushing over to you, he went to wrap his arms around you, but you flinched, another sob running through your body.

It felt like hours, you were both sat there, Raphael just trying to keep you calm, and failing.

“You and your brothers have this obsession with “fixing” people, but you can’t fix me! I’m not broken, don’t you understand? This is me. Every horrible, awful, disgusting part. That is me and I can’t. Be. Fixed!” Raphael was stunned, he didn’t know how to react to what she’d said. All he could really do was pull her into him and hold her, his Sun, his Moon. 


Before STRQ

Okay, so this is why I ended up not posting until right now I’M SORRY.

I present to you, my version of Qrow and Raven’s parents! Their story is unchanging, between MRAU, Head canon, and Happily Ever After AU.

A synopsis of Kite Branwen

Kite Branwen (based on the fable ‘Kaa’nang’)- “Illegitimate” (considered by his step-mother), bastard son of the Oceanic Tribe’s Chief, Eule (Owl in German) Branwen, Kite was not a conception of love between his parents. Mother being a POW of their tribe, she left him in the care of his father as soon as she was pardoned, around two years since his birth.

Kite grows up in the distant observation and something akin to care and protection of his father, while a commander of his, named Tawny, takes Kite in as her own and raises him despite harassment from the chiefess and fellow tribesmen and women. Finding out his semblance of Foresight, he is often used by his father to predict danger and attacks.

Despite step-mom Sienna’s best efforts to stunt him, Kite develops into a strong, highly skilled fighter (thanks to his father and mother) who can remain calm and stable on and off the battle field. He is a natural born leader, more-so than her own, “legitimate” children. Once he was offered the title of ‘General’, Sienna finally got her way and was able to take his title from him by enticing Kite’s then, now ex-boyfriend, Merlin. Taking Kite’s title without shame or guilt, Merlin immediately cuts Kite down in front of the entire tribe and also severs their relationship.

Betrayed and abandoned one too many times, Kite’s trust in others breaks. He constructs a wall of disdain and aloof disinterest around him and isolates himself from everyone in his Tribe. In an act of desperation and desire for peace in his life, he builds himself a small home at the edge of stable earth and near the shore; solitude and the ocean being his only friends.

His solitary life ends, however, when a trio of young women stumble upon their tribe and beg for help.

A synopsis of Cerise Demet

Cerise Demet (based on Ceres/Demeter) - A young woman who is running from a dangerous group of people and a situation she refuses to be in, Cerise, along with sister’s Heather and Olivia, stumble through a waterfall to find a long, winding cave behind it. Following the path, the three find themselves trespassing into an Oceanic tribe of shape-shifters, Faunus, and hunter’s.

Captured and taken before Chief Eule, he and Chiefess Sienna decide what to do with them. Offering their services, Cerise’s semblance enabling her to grow, destroy, and move plants at her will, and contribution to the tribe in exchange for hiding, the chief agrees.

Tawny offers her home and care to the girls, who are much appreciative. Cerise spots a small house near the shore, and asks Tawny who resides in such a tiny, secluded home. Without missing a beat, the older soldier replies with one phrase. “My troubled son.”

Interest peaked and curiosity getting the better of her, Cerise makes the decision to sneak out later that week and meet this mysterious ‘son’ of Tawny’s.

I might do a mini series on AO3 about Cerise and Kite, revealing her past and how the two of them got together, them being together, and whatever follows. I’m going to be including them in the Happily Ever After AU and doing sketches of the two of them on here.

If you have any questions about them (just them for right now. We can get into their interactions with RWBY and STRQ later once I develop these two a bit more), don’t be afraid to comment, message me, or send me an ask.