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.
i watched some hair tutorials on youtube and now this hair-braiding scene is getting longer and more involved lmao i hope people are ready for like… 10k words of fluff interspersed with smut like… i really hope people are into that
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.
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.
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.
“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.
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
“Like I was in any position to grab my phone.”
“What about the cabbie?” he asked as he tried to give you a
“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
“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
“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
“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
“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
“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
“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.
“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.
Jingles was there, picking at the fried chicken. You
disentangled yourself from Rafael’s hold to put the kibosh on her unexpected
“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…
Overcome (’95 Line Hogwarts AU Foursome Smut) (Part 4/?)
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
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)
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.