many braids

A doodle of the Altertangle AU but with Asgore as Rapunzel.

Altertale and Altertangle belongs to @friisans

i’m twenty five now, shit, that means i have to stop fucking around, that means i need to find out how to deal with all this blood, men, the stretch marks on my shoulders, the absolute mortality of my parents. this is the first true poem i’ve written in months and i’ve got all these words buzz buzz buzzing around inside of me, they were right, i just had to give it time and meanwhile i keep missing dentist’s appointments, keep fattening myself up on sugar and boys with big eyes and big lashes and i haven’t grown out of girlhood yet because my nails break and i cry, my hair falls out and i cry, my tits are too big and i cry and i am growing into my mother and we cry at all the same things. she told me she was sorry for the years my dad wove my heavy hair into braids but i’m so sorry i’m so sorry i’m so sorry dad for never accepting or claiming my blackness because even now as a grown ass black woman, dark alleys and shadowy street corners still scare the fuck out of me. i see black boys running and black girls crying and vice versa and both and this fence right here i built myself, this distance i created myself. the punchline is that my dad spent so many hours braiding my hair that i never learned how to do it myself, the punchline is that we are still nursing our black tender heads. this poem will not absolve me of all my sins or even scrub me clean but i am turning the faucet on, i am picking up the sponge, i am attacking my cuticles with unprecedented ferocity. meanwhile my blackness sticks its head out of the window and howls.
—  Kristina Haynes, “Small Poem About Big Things”

She chose the name Rain when she first entered, and indeed could be often seen standing in the rain, droplets decorating her many tiny braids like gems, looking like stars in the night sky on her skin.
She wore silver and iron and gold as beads in her hair, and was free enough with them, giving her gold beads as sacrifice for small matters. She had a voice that was warm and pleasant, but her song sounded more like the crackling of flames. She worked in sculpture and metal, but studied justice. She studied humanity and their patterns and by her junior year could accurately predict which students would get taken next.
In her senior year, with iron chains wrapped around her arms, and two self forged iron knives warming themselves against her flesh, hidden from view, she approached a Noble. She exchanges a new student, with a voice like water flowing over a diamond, for the ability to see guilt in humans, and when she walks away with a smile like a knife slash she glows red, red, red.

[x]

The Ballad of Rezyl Azzir

1.

Long ago, in ages past,

Before both walls and City bright,

There lived a man, mountain-strong,

Who burned with unmatched inner light.


Proud he was, and passing brave,

His doughtiness no lie,

But as a Risen, reckless, too -

The curse of those who never die.


Rezyl Azzir, he was called,

His strength known far across the land,

For he was of the chosen few,

Who held great power in their hands.


In time his kind would find a name -

Titans, they’d be called -

But in that age of long-lost tales,

It mattered not at all.


Rezyl watched his people swell,

Watched factions rise and threaten hope,

Then watched his people march to hang

On conflict’s many-braided rope.


Rezyl watched as war began,

Watched war threaten all they’d built,

War would bring the sorry fall

Of a rose that was now doomed to wilt.


Perhaps the Fallen brought relief,

For Rezyl now could fight,

Not against his common man,

But against the coming night.


He welcomed hope, reborn anew,

Welcomed purpose shared by all,

But deep within his ancient bones,

He knew that every age must fall.


He strove for hope as best he could,

Never ceased his valiant fight,

But he thought oft upon their safety,

And on the nearness of the night.


Every eve, as Luna rose,

Rezyl sat alone and stared,

He’d think on writhing Darkness,

And wonder what lurked there.


2.

His legend grew, as legends may,

While Rezyl battled on and on,

With his rifle he slew the foes

Of the City’s new-come dawn.


Inferno, he named his mighty gun,

And it was near as known as he,

For it dealt death to Rezyl’s foes

And kept his people free.


Once, he thought to hunt a Kell,

To his wary Ghost’s dismay,

So he hatched a daring plan

Unheard of, to this day.


He let himself be captured,

Even let himself be slain!

When his killers marveled at their trophy,

Rezyl rose again.


The Kell had him in its four-armed grip,

Raised Rezyl’s conquered body high,

Then Rezyl’s Ghost revived him,

And the Kell’s plans went awry.


Rezyl’s cannon coughed but once,

Sent ether pouring from its throat,

And when the gathered Fallen charged him,

Arc-light washed away their hope.


*


He often led the pilgrim trains

That sought the City’s hopeful glow,

He saved as many as he could

Saved more than we shall ever know.


He grew weary nonetheless,

Of such small victories,

And often wondered what it would take

To bring the Darkness to its knees.


He never looked but far ahead,

Never dwelt on what he’d done,

For despite the pilgrims’ brave resolve,

He knew that death would someday come.


For strange things lingered in long-lost tales;

Horrors that refused to fade,

Nightmares that he’d never seen,

Monsters that lacked even a name.


And so it was, when Luna rose,

That Rezyl could not help but stare,

Perhaps he gazed upon its scars,

And saw himself reflected there.


3.

At last, Rezyl sought the truth

Of tales he hoped were lies -

Luna called, and Rezyl went

To see the moon with his own eyes.


What he found there left him shaken,

Shafts and burrows gnawed in stone,

He worried that those whispered fears

Now called Luna home.


His Ghost alight, he traveled deep,

Ran past worms and moths and spores

Until he came upon a place

Barred by ancient, curving doors.


Deep within his aged bones,

He felt a presence drawing near,

And heard a whisper - not of glory,

But the keening trill of fear.


Metal screeched, and Rezyl spun,

He saw the ancient doors yawn wide,

A shape resolved within the air,

For something dwelt inside.


From the pit a woman rose,

Tattered rags about her face,

Around her wound a mantle dark,

Wove of cursed lace.


She floated there, beyond the gate,

And fixed him with her stare,

Then she turned and disappeared,

As though offering a dare.


His Ghost was wary, for they’d delved deep,

And now were far from Light,

But Rezyl, as was always true,

Would not give up the fight.


“Stay here,” he told his wary Ghost,

“And should I fall then flee,

For I am but a single man,

And our cause has need of thee.


“Warn the City of what we’ve found,

Tell them Pirates aren’t the worst,

For deep within our moon’s torn flesh,

We’ve found an even darker curse.”


The Titan stood, embraced the night,

Valiantly he crossed the gate,

All around him, Darkness thickened,

As he strode onwards to his fate.


Time stopped - or rather, it stretched on

While Rezyl sought his foe;

That wicked woman, wrapped in night,

That harbinger of woe.


In that place of endless night,

He could but sense the witch,

With bullet-spark he chased her down,

Through caves as black as pitch.


She choked him with her magics dark,

Rezyl shuddered at her call,

He found he could not move an inch -

The demon had him in her thrall.


Inferno was his answer, then,

His mighty rifle roared and spat,

Illuminated with hot lead

That fiend the Dark itself begat.


Up she loomed, that wicked thing,

As though she’d won herself a bet,

As though she’d brought the Titan there,

And now her trap was set.


She laughed, and laughed, and Rezyl flinched,

For every writhing word brought pain,

He felt her screams saw at his bones,

And burrow towards his brain.


She whispered words in Rezyl’s ear,

In the way a lover might;

But promised pain and endless sorrow,

Promised ever-falling night.


“I am Xyor,” hissed the witch,

“She who’ll show you to your grave,

Betrothed, Blessed; my dear, sweet thing,

I’m the storm that you must brave.”


His ears bled crimson at her voice,

As all around him terrors woke,

Fiends that hid beyond the light

And hungered for his hope.


Rezyl tensed, his rifle close,

He’d heard the torture on her tongue,

Felt pain embrace his ancient bones -

And knew he could not run.


From deep within that hellish pit,

A flood of horrors now arose,

Birthed from sorrowed, shadowed night

They chittered as they closed.


Rezyl stood, a wall of might,

Against him crashed the snarling wave,

Inferno broke their crushing strength,

Left countless dead in dusty graves.


Then at last, the trigger clicked,

Inferno gave its final gasp,

And Rezyl fought with fists alone,

And skulls cracked in his grasp.


Around his body talons closed,

So Rezyl spun, then drew -

From his hip he pulled his Rose -

His cannon always saw him through.


He killed and killed, his Rose ablaze,

Around him demons wailed and fell,

All the while the witch did watch,

As though she wove a silent spell.


Then she shrieked, and the flood let up,

At once the chittering was done,

Rezyl stood and caught his breath

For he knew he’d not yet won.


Steps rang out against the night,

A shape approached him from the deep,

A mass of ornate, armored bone,

A nightmare woken from its sleep.


Even doughty Rezyl paused

As it lumbered into view

It carried in its massive claw

A wicked sword to run him through.


Perhaps it had been valiant once,

A hero to its kind,

Perhaps, like Rezyl, it was old,

And to combat was resigned.


He faced the monster, head held high,

And could not stop his grin,

He’d come to find the dark unknown -

Instead it had found him.


Perhaps within, he himself

Had heard a whispered voice

A buried cry that howled ‘good!’

And reveled in his choice.


The creature roared, and Rezyl shot,

His Rose kicked in his palm,

He fanned the hammer, fast and sure,

As the demon witch looked on.


A shield it conjured, black as night,

Blocked the bullets from his Rose,

They fell, harmless, to the stones

That paved the catacomb.


Its magic faltered, the black shield waned,

His foe lifted its sword apace,

Rezyl growled at the sight

Of the doom he’d been reborn to face.


The battle-cry of demon spawn

Echoed in immortal ears,

Rezyl’s challenge rang out bright,

And he charged to meet his fears.


We know not what happened then,

‘Til Rezyl found his wary Ghost,

For of his mortal battle,

Rezyl would not boast.


Rezyl lived, that much is sure,

Survived both witch and wicked knight,

But unknowingly brought with him

The witch’s clawing blight.


He never spoke of her demise,

Never claimed he’d torn her down,

Perhaps within that ancient pit,

Rezyl’s fate was caught and bound.


Inferno’s end remains unknown,

The mighty rifle Darkness stole,

Perhaps the witch still holds it,

And through her pit it now patrols.


It matters not, for we know this:

In that place of grim repose,

Rezyl sat, and without a thought

He tended to his Rose.


Taking spoils from his test,

Rezyl grafted bones to steel,

Until chiton crowned his Rose

And its flower was concealed.


You know just how this story ends,

With a mighty hero left unmourned,

With whispered nightmares brought to life,

With the jagged kiss of thorns.


- Cryptarch Records // Anonymous

first time I ever saw Harry (and one direction obvi) up close and selfishly never shared most of the photos from this night. today I’m reminiscing and I’m just….. a wreck

Wrong Brother (Fili X Reader)

Originally posted by cozy-lovelyness

Request for @thealbersclan   Hi hi hi!! Love your stuff!! Could I please do a request?? How about reader x Fili. Fili wants to get reader a present to show his affections and he is unsure if reader likes him. He has no idea what to get her so Kili tries to talk her up to get ideas. Reader Gets the wrong idea and tells Kili she’s not interested in him(Kili) and she actually likes his brother! ❤️  

Authors Note: FOR @thealbersclan SO SORRY this took so long, I’m in the middle of exams and have been stressing out. But I did promise I would get this done, so I’ve taken a break from studying to finish this. Hope you like it

Word Count: 1,254

Fili was a Prince. Heir to the throne of Erebor. A member of the First Company who reclaimed the mountain from a Dragon, for crying out loud! So why did he find this so difficult? Was it just not meant to be? Why did her heart seem so out of reach?

Fili sighed loudly and his shoulders dropped slightly as he maneuvered his body to rest more comfortably in the tree. Yes, you heard correctly, Fili was currently perched in a tree, waiting for his brother to walk through with (Y/N), the young dwarrow that had stolen his heart.

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Hair, Symbolism, and Azula's Descent into Madness

Not my hair! Father always loved my hair!

One of Bryke’s favorite forms of symbolism has to do with hair. We see it with Zuko (both with him cutting his hair in “The Avatar State,” and growing out his hair as  symbol of his gaining wisdom as the series progresses); we see it with Korra when she cuts her hair in “Korra Alone”; with Tarrlok as he adds more and more braids to his hair until he has as many braids as the man that he never wanted to become; we see it with Kuvira whenever she loses control of a situation which causes her hair to become unkempt; and, most notably, we see it with Azula.

The same principle used for Kuvira’s hair symbolism (unkempt hair whenever they lose control) can also be applied to Azula. However, with Azula, it’s not just about control–it’s about perfection. It’s about living up to her father’s standards. After all, shes a prodigy, and Ozai would expect nothing less.  

Azula grew up in a world where she was held up on a pedestal as her father’s prodigy. As such, she was forced not only to surpass her brother in the art of firebending, but to be perfect in every way in order to meet her father’s absurdly high expectations. This caused Azula to be obsessed with perfection and control. Consequently, to be anything but perfect and to lose control would mean falling short of those high standards set by her father.

And that’s precisely what happened. Her plans began to fail, pawns began acting on their own. She was no longer in control. She was no longer perfect. Her world began to fall apart around her, and she was left with nothing but her hallucinations.

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Dean Winchester X Reader - The 90′s Called

Originally posted by frozen-delight

Imagine Dean’s FBI suit tearing on a case, and trying to find a new one with him.

A/N: This is for @percussiongirl2017 ‘s challenge. My prompt was “The 90′s called. They want their clothes back, and my song was ‘Man in the Mirror’ - Michael Jackson.

Your name: submit What is this?

(When you’re texting)

Italics: Sam
Bold Italics: You

Word Count: 1,165
Warnings: none.


“I’ll meet you two in the car,” Sam announces, throwing Dean his jacket and turning to leave. 

“What are you going to do in the forty minutes it takes Dean to get ready?” You tease, earning a scoff from Dean and a snort from Sam.

“I’ll braid my hair,” He turns around and leaves the motel room, leaving you and Dean on your own. 

“Oh ha-ha, Y/N,” Dean laughs sarcastically. You laugh.
“You know it’’s true- now be a gentleman and don’t look,” You sass, remembering that Sam had broken the knob of the bathroom door earlier that morning. You didn’t want to be locked in a bathroom on a case, after all. Dean rolls his eyes with a small smile and turns around. 

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Sweet Talker

For @svu-stories! Because we all need some Rafael at the end of a long day…

“What’s all this?”

Jingles jumped up first as you struggled in the doorway with a tray of fried chicken. Any love that might have been meant for you disappeared as she stretched up and pawed the tin foil. Your arms ached, your legs felt worse as you pushed the tray towards your husband and stumbled back to the hallway for two white paper bags.

“You could have called from the street,” he said. “I would have helped.”

“Like I was in any position to grab my phone.”

“What about the cabbie?” he asked as he tried to give you a quick kiss.

“That would mean a bigger tip and as it is we’re about to be down an entire income!”

It came out sharper than you intended and you lazily patted his arm as you kicked off your shoes and sank to the couch.

“Do I not want to know?” he asked.

“Just leave me here for five minutes to die.”

“Okay. But if you’re still breathing in five minutes and one second, we are going to have a proper conversation.”

For now, he left you in silence, rummaging through your cursed cargo as Jingles kept circling his feet.

“Sort of makes me wish I hadn’t already eaten,” he mumbled.

“It’s not time yet!” you cried out with one hand over your eyes.

“I was addressing the cat,” he shot back. “And it’s a compliment to the chef.”

“I wouldn’t know what that sounds like.”

Peering through your fingers, you saw his eyebrows stretch towards his hairline as he plopped a lime-flavored potato croquette into his mouth.

“You could eat at a time like this,” you said.

“Far be it from me to turn down a free meal.”

“Perish the thought.”

“Are you going to keep me in suspense or what?” Rafael asked.

“Ninety more seconds.”

“Fair enough.” Rafael pet Jingles as you stared up at the ceiling, sighing heavily as the day you’d rather forget flashed before your eyes in unwanted waves.

“Time’s up,” he said. Looking at him again, you noticed a chicken leg conquered and a piece of sweet corn pudding half gone.

“Were you a competitive eater in another life?” you quipped.

“Well from the sounds of it I am going to need a second job.” He laughed lightly as he sat by your side, bringing your feet to his lap as he massaged them tenderly and waited for you to share the rest of the story.

“We had to audition today.”

“Are you turning actress on me? I can see that. A touch of Bette Davis in her Warner Brothers days.”

“Someone’s been watching TCM when he should be going over his legal briefs.”

“I can multi-task, mi amor,” he said as he kissed your toes. “And you can do anything that you put your mind to.”

“Hardly.” His hands moved up your legs until for your fingers were in his grasp. You liked the look of it, but the image started to blur as your eyes hazed over.

“The client wanted a tasting.”

“You can do that with both hands tied behind your back.”

“Tell that to a certain Wall Street banker… or should I say his fiancée by way of Georgia.

“You less than perfection?” he asked as he nuzzled your neck.

“She criticized every dish we put in front of her.”

His face turned somber as he caressed your ankles, hitching up your black pleated skirt to peck your knees.

“I should call Rollins to see if she has outstanding parking tickets or something,” he teased. His free hand found its way to your hair, stroking the strands that had been your French braid many minutes and blocks ago.

“It wouldn’t matter.”

“What made tonight different?”

“Tonight, there were five other caterers waiting and watching in the mix,” you said. “I felt like was on a fucking reality show.”

“Now if someone has ruined your love for MasterChef forget whatever Rollins might dig up. We’re pressing charges right here in Manhattan.”

He started to rub your back when you hung your head, tears spilling down your cheeks.

“It was horrible,” you sobbed. “Some of them were people that I trained under. Or took passes on. And to have to stand there while that bleached blonde bimbo put me down…”

“No accounting for taste,” he soothed. “But it’s not the end of the world. So you didn’t land one little job.”

“Um… did I mention that I turned my pineapple upside-down cake right side up? In the Southern Belle’s lap?”

“Oh,” he said as he released your hand.

“I know, I know. It was a dumb thing to do. But I was just so angry and…”

“So in between my new career as a competitive eater, I’m going to have to rescue you from an assault conviction.”

“I hope it won’t come to that,” you said as you slipped back to the cushions. “What is current the precedent for attacks by pastry?”

“I don’t know.”

“A legal fact not on the tip of your tongue, darling?”

“I’ll do some research,” he assured you. “Worse comes to worse I bet I can plea you out for a batch of brownies at no charge.”

“You’re not listening. My food is a bust.”

“A little melodramatic, no?” Rafael brushed a lock of hair behind your ears, his lips nearly on yours as you shrugged way from him. Your speech came slowly as your stared at your hands that used to be able to do no wrong, that you had counted on from the instant you learned to boil water and prepare the perfect plate of pasta.

“What if I’ve plateaued?” you finally asked. “What if I’m never going to do anything amazing ever again?”

“Come on now.”

“It might be true. And it’s coming at the worst time. Now that we… that we want to start a…”

You swallowed the word family back and felt your legs trembling.

“Who would give a baby to a screw up like me?”

He turned you to face him, his stare hardening as he fondled your arms.

“One Georgia Peach who should probably stick with the drive thru does not mean that you should throw in the towel.”

“That was mean,” you giggled.

“And bleached blonde bimbo was charitable?” he challenged.

“Point taken.”

“And you forget,” he continued. “You’re going to be the most amazing mother the world has ever known. So no more talk about being past your prime or whatever this is. Mi amor, you are about set the gold standard for the second time.”

“When was the first?” you asked.

“When you made a short lawyer with a big mouth the luckiest man in the world.”

He folded you into his arms. Any and all lingering tension melted away in his embrace, and you took a deep breath as you looked into his eyes.

“Better?” he asked.

“That big mouth of yours… when I need it most….”

“I can keep it up all night,” he said with a wink.

“Such a sweet talker. But I think there’s a much better use for said mouth.”

He smiled knowingly as he lifted you into his arms. You squealed as he started to carry you towards the bedroom when a rustle from the counter claimed your attention.

“Oh no!”

Jingles was there, picking at the fried chicken. You disentangled yourself from Rafael’s hold to put the kibosh on her unexpected feast.

“It’ll make you sick, sweetheart,” you gently scolded. The anguish was writ large on her feline face as she sulked back to her tiny pink bowl, her dinner gone as she batted the ceramic before flopping on the floor.

“Sometimes she’s so fresh,” you muttered as you started to load the refrigerator, only to look back to see Rafael polishing off the corn pudding and feeding Jingles by hand.

“Seriously?” you asked with your hands on your hips.

“What? If it makes her happy. And I think I need to work up an appetite for… what you have in mind.”

You sighed as you kissed his beautiful mouth, his taste sweet and sure as you winded your arm in his.

“Guess I’m going to have to be the disciplinarian in the family,” you teased, the word coming out easier as he hugged you close.

“Want to start practicing with me?”

“Not another audition,” you moaned.

“Please. You already have the part. Your hands alone are worthy of awards.”

“Either you’re psychic or I’m in love,” you said.

“Let it be the latter,” he whispered.

“You’ll soon find out.”

You led him to the sheets, adoring the idea of everything you would do to him… how marvelous he had already… how he always made you feel…

““I love the way you never give up, mi amor.” 

…and the way he always said the right thing.

Overcome (’95 Line Hogwarts AU Foursome Smut) (Part 4/?)

Summary: A misguided potions mishap happens to land both you and Seungcheol in a late night detention. When a quirky, absent-minded professor leaves you to your own devices, you both try to stay civil, and stay in your separate corners. But that’s not exactly what happens when you lock two dragons in a cage. Hogwarts AU. Angst/Smut. 

(A/N: weighing in at a whopping 19,817 words - this is officially the longest thing I have ever written to date. wow. just wow. obviously this was supposed to be up a while ago, but honestly I’m not gonna apologize because I believe you guys will find it worth the wait. because I believe this to be not only the longest, but probably the best thing I have ever written. I am so so damn proud of this. and as I said for part 3.5, I made waaay too many alludes to Mean Girls because that movie is just implanted deep deep in my brain and of couse, with Harry Potter being so deep in my soul, those references are a huge part of this. honestly I think this is a great way to celebrate the Harry Potter anniversary, even though this is a few days late. smut is a great way to celebrate anything. be very warned, that unlike with the last chapter, the smut is way stronger here, way worse, so don’t go into this with your little baby goggles on. please. I just really hope you enjoy it and have fun. warnings: excessive swearing (I use fuck like 100 times no kidding), Daddy kink, spanking, choking, technically minor smut/minor sex - because this is a Hogwarts au, slightly dubious consent - but I don’t really know??, smut, smutty smut smut, a lot of angst and yelling, some self depredating stuff - this is very heavy emotionally so pleased be warned of that. anyway please enjoy, I really hope it was worth the wait -Tanisha<3)

Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 

Part 4: Incendio 

The Great Hall was buzzing with the sounds of dinner. Students coming and going, voices humming, each conversation being able to be picked out only if you listening carefully, otherwise just a cluster of indistinct voices that made the room filled with a great hum. People were free to sit wherever they pleased, and the number of inter-house friendships really showed.

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