Would love if you guys sent me requests
I know I got like 8 followers on here, but please send me requests. I have small brain and can't think for myself ಥ‿ಥ
If you happen to see this and aren't following me pls consider requesting anyway, I have anon on if you're shy.
I write for gn, nb, and male, readers. But I always write for black readers. I don't write fem readers, unless they're trans girls cause they get nothing. I obviously write for trans boys/enbys too!
Again, black readers only unless specifically requested otherwise. And only for other POC.
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All that time you spend scrolling, stressing, and envying — give it back to yourself. Reclaim your time and your mind. Allocate all energies to manifesting the freest and fullest you.
I don’t need to surround myself with people that don’t believe in my character. I don’t fuck with people that feel the need to poke at me and pick at me until I reach my breaking point. I am a nice person, but anyone will blow up when they’ve had enough. I don’t need to be around people who try to “expose” my character because they don’t believe in my goodness. I am who I am wholeheartedly. I deserve people in my life who accept that and will just let me be.
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From the Desk of Jarrick DeWaine Exum
Hey, y’all. So, last Monday was when I had plans to work on the blog since launching “The Nerd’s Symphony” on Amazon. But I was also working on a side project that also took a lot of time to work on (I’m not telling you what the side project is, though), so you know that I had to put this blog on hold for a while. I was also dealing with a lot of sleep deprivation and mental/emotional exhaustion…
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Black Trauma Is Not For Sell (ANYMORE)
It's probably time to have this discussion about black trauma and how it’s communicated to the world.
The internet has been buzzing all weekend about the new Amazon Prime series THEM written by Little Marvin and Lena Waithe. Marvin pitched the idea for the show and Waithe loved the concept and together they crafted am ambitious narrative of civil rights era fiction horror snuff that goes beyond sharing the traumatic narrative that shapes the Black Experience in America.
Marsai Martin recently was quoted saying that she would no longer produce movies showcasing black trauma and I am here for it. Here's why it's time to say no to stories surrounding black trauma.
As of lately the woke culture which consist of white allies channelling their guilt through performative actions to make themselves less racist are using such avenues as entertainment to tell what they believe to be pivotal stories to guilt the hell out of their white family and friends. Here's the thing though; they cannot nor will they ever be the voice of our pain or the trauma that their ancestors inflicted upon generations of blacks in America.
They have aligned themselves with some of the most gullible fame hungry black creators that are will to sacrifice our folklore, fables and stories of oppression for a clout, fame and fortune. The notion of inclusivity as a collective voice under the guise of racist violence packaged as edgy by clueless woke white people is in fact very RACIST and problematic.
Black Trauma is not for sell and this trend of releasing tasteless art described as representation of the Black Experience in Amerikkka is quite alarming. Our stories deserve to be told in a manner that is genuine and true. The history of our people must be revealed, recognized and revered as the culture of the United Stated of America.
THEM is a lame attempt at legitimizing racist horror snuff films that allows racists psychos the opportunity to visualize their fantasies of brutalizing and killing black people in the most unimaginable and horrific ways.
In the words of Rose Parks, "Nah... I'm good."
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i'm in a podcast! check it out!
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I thought that if I could see it in my head then it would end up in my hands. I thought hard , but you're still not here for me to grasp onto.
Natasha @art_tashia on Instagram
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There Will Be No Tears (Chapter 1)
⚠️Warning: I won’t be continuing this series, just placing it here for posterity.🙏🏾 Thanks for understanding.
Prompt: “Don’t leave me. Don’t you dare leave me.”
Word Count: 2.1k
Warnings: So Much ANGST
The boy squirmed slightly as you deftly lifted his sleeping form from his crib and nestled him in your arms. You smiled softly as you stared at the carbon copy of your husband swaddled in your arms. You couldn’t deny it, he was handsome. You placed a soft kiss to his cheek, and whispered sweet words of praise in his ears. You noticed a tear sliding down your cheek and quickly lifted your hand to wipe it away, swallowing deeply and repeating the mantra you had created to comfort you during trying times – there will be no tears.
You turned and lifted the large baby bag you had packed earlier in the evening, hoisting it over your shoulder. It was full with supplies that would last a few days as you journeyed outside of your husband’s kingdom to a quiet and unsuspecting location, until you had found a place and settled down. You had decided that you and your son would live away from the palace, and have nothing to do with royalty. You’d live a quiet life, the way you used to before you met him. Maybe settle in the River Tribe, somewhere discreet, where you could find peace. You didn’t want any trouble.
You took one last look around your 1 and a half year old son’s room, noticing the large rocking chair T’challa had bought for you the moment you he had discovered you were pregnant. You smiled at the memory – a small smile. The mantra played on repeat in your head. there will be no tears. You hurried out of the room closing the door quietly and began your walk to the west wing of the palace, where you would make your exit.
Your eyes took in the architecture of the palace that had been your home for close to 3 years, you would miss it. It was where you had met T’challa. You had loved him, married him, and conceived your beloved son together in the walls of this building. How could you not miss it? Unfortunately, it was also the place that witnessed the breakdown of your marriage, the walls had heard every argument, saw every push, heard every insult, but worst of all it had heard your cries. The cries that had emitted from your lips as you realized that your beloved husband, the king had a lover. A lover who wasn’t you.
You remembered the day you found out like it was yesterday, and you probably would for the rest of your life.
You had woken up in the middle of the night and he wasn’t there. It wasn’t surprising for you to wake up with him gone in the middle of the night, He was king after all. He had a duty to his country and it was a job that did not give him the privilege of getting his 8-10 hours of sleep. Often times he would work through the night. You would always feel him slip back into bed as the sun rose, to kiss your cheeks and pull you close to him once again, returning just in time to spend a few minutes with you as you woke up.
If you woke in the middle of the night and missed his presence he could be found in his office, huddled over a stack of papers, with a steaming cup of herbal tea to his side and his glasses on the tip of his nose. Sometimes you would watch him through a crack in the door and go back to bed, your heart content that he was fine. Other times you would give a little knock on the door and let your presence be known. He’d always welcome you in with a smile and pull you into his lap, leaving you with a kiss on your forehead. If you were really adamant, you’d manage to convince him to come back to bed, and he’d oblige. Every now and then you got comfortable in his lap and let him work as you slept for the duration of the night.
This time was different. You had left your bed with a peace offering of herbal tea in hopes of resolving the quarrel that had you both going to bed with your backs facing each other. Instead of seeing T’challa huddled over a stack of papers you were met with a sight that would change the course of your relationship and Wakanda forever.
You saw your husband, with his back facing you as a woman had her hands planted on his desk and her figure arching into his body. “You are my peace.” He said into the woman’s hair, as his arms rested loosely around her waist and his nose was buried in her hair. It was those words that broke you the most. He littered her neck with kisses as she reached back and ran her fingers through his coarse hair. Your husband’s hair. The whole scene made you sick to your stomach and you couldn’t help yourself as the saucer and teacup that held his favourite herbal tea slid out of your hands and crashed onto the polished marble floors of the palace.
You were stunned for a second before you turned your back and walked hastily back to your quarters.
“Y/N!” he called frantically. He murmured a few words to the woman in his office, took a few hurried strides across the room and closed the mahogany door of his office quietly. He then started his sprint towards you and grabbed your wrist pulling your body to him.
“Y/N…” he said as his voice trailed off. He ran his fingers through the coils that sat atop his head – something he did when he was frustrated. “I’ve been going through a lot, it’s been hard on me you know?” He expected you to say something, but words couldn’t escape your lips. there will be no tears. You had thought that the increasing number of fights you had been having could be resolved by couples therapy, or communication, anything. You were wrong. This moment made you realize that nothing would solve this broken marriage, it was bigger than you. What you did know is that you wouldn’t have your son growing up in a loveless family, with puppets as parents.
Finally, your found your voice. It was wobbly, and you didn’t know how he would take it but you tried anyways. “T’Challa?” A beat. “ I think we should… I don’t think we should… I can’t –“ you couldn’t finish your thoughts as he interrupted you.
“Don’t leave me. Don’t you dare leave me.” He whispered as the grip on your wrist tightened. His head hung low, and he couldn’t look at you and instead chose to focus his sight on the floor. You took note of the pressure on your wrist, nodded and composed yourself. You pulled your wrist from his grip, smoothing the front of your night dress, and made you way back to your chambers. This time, he didn’t return. But you knew. You couldn’t stay. Your upbringing and dignity wouldn’t allow you to. You wouldn’t be a puppet queen. You couldn’t. It wasn’t in your nature.
Weeks had passed since that night and you still operated on auto-pilot. You bathed, burped and played with your son as if nothing was wrong. You went to all your scheduled meetings as the queen, you picked out the linens for the dinners that were to be held in that quarter, you had lunches with T’Challa’s mother, you painted your nails, and braided your hair like you usually would. You spoke to your husband as if nothing was wrong. Replying when he asked you questions that he already knew the answer to just to get you to speak to him.
“Y/N? Are we attending the Festival of Harvest this year?” he asked while looking at you expectantly looking for anything – something to indicate your anger. You busied yourself with the laundry you were folding and replied in an even tone “Of course, we attend every year don’t we? Why would this year be any different?” This year would be different. By the time the Festival of Harvest rolled around you and Kweku would have left the palace, never to attend another festival again.
Prior to the discovery of his infidelity your interactions had been very different. You were bickering back and forth about almost everything. He would spend a few hours a day playing with his son but ignoring his wife. Often times he’d find you and plop Kweku on your lap and say “He needs his diaper changed, you can return him to me when you’re done.” When you questioned why he couldn’t change his diaper, he’d say “It’s the least you could do Y/N, you’re his mother.” In a condescending tone that you’d never thought would leave the mouth of your husband, your Challa. He would wait for you outside his nursery, and swoop him out of your arms when you exited the room without a word of thanks, and hurry along his way.
When you expressed your tiredness while dealing with Kweku, juggling your palace duties, and trying to be a good wife at the same time, he’d simply ask “Y/N, could it be that you’re just not trying hard enough? You must learn to manage it.”
T’Challa was never physical with you. Just dismissive, and condescending, and cold. This wasn’t the man you married. Whenever you expressed your concerns about his behavior he’d roll his eyes at you and try to placate you like a child. “If you’d just do what I suggest, you wouldn’t be getting yourself upset over nothing Y/N. Honestly, I don’t know if it’s the pregnancy hormones still swirling about in your system but I’m sure Shuri can help you out if you need it.” With these comments you’d just get more and more heated, which would result in many slammed doors, and a lot of raised voices. You could put up with the arguments, you could fix that, but giving himself to another woman? You couldn’t forgive.
You knew you had to be objective with your exit. Though T’Challa had always been sweet to you until recently, he had the capacity to be cruel, he was the Black Panther after all. You wouldn’t put it past him to keep you in the palace as a captive if you made any attempts to leave him, especially with his son. During sex he’d let you know it was he who was dominating your body with skill that made you cry out wantonly every time. “You’re mine Y/N, say it!” he’d growl into your ear, and you would say it, because it was true.
Your sons whining took you from your thoughts, and you remembered you had to be swift. There was only a small window that would allow you to leave undetected. You had been planning this for weeks. Waiting for the perfect moment. T’challa was gone on an annual hunting trip where many of the Dora Milaje would accompany him as he wouldn’t be in communication with the palace for 3 days. A lot could happen in 3 days. Today was day one, and you had planned to leave today as it would give you the most amount of time to get as far away from the palace as possible and leave undetected. The palace was still guarded, but loosely, and you knew all the blind spots. Perks of hanging out with Shuri in your down time.
You snuck out the side door in the west wing, which led to an unsuspecting dirt road, spotting the cab you had arranged for idling in the shadows. Having already placed your small luggage in the cab before going back to retrieve your son it only took you a moment to settle yourself and a sleeping Kweku in the car. “What’s your destination?” the cab driver asked you curiously looking at your cloaked figure in the rear-view mirror. You took a deep breath and steadied your voice “Take us North, I’ll tell you where to stop.” The driver nodded his head and began the journey turning on a shitty American station that played pop music and country.
You’d never forget this day. To you, it was monumental because you had managed to pull it off but it was also the day when you turned your back on your duty, your kingdom, your husband and your crown. When that realization struck you, the tears slid down your face disobediently. No matter what, you vowed to never look back
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ig | @theziaries
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a page from my diaries
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It is worth knowing that a lot of these writers are still in the public domain which means that even though Zora Neal Hurston has been gone for many years, her state still gets royalties if you buy one of her books. If you like reading novels and you don’t know where to start May I recommend the Library of America anthology of I believe it’s eight Harlem Renaissance writers.￼
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Sebastian x Thicc Reader
Version 1: NSFW
Warnings: Breeding Kink, Dom Male, Sub Female, Dirty Talk
A/N: This was requested by ( @theemelanintrappp ). Sorry this is kinda short I had to study Victorian Era and rewatch Black Butler. N e ways enjoy this smutty messʕ-᷅ᴥ-᷄ʔ.
Version 1. You
Music blasted from the speaker that hung from the wall. It was the weekend and you along with your boyfriend were free from work. What better way was there to spend your day. Easy.
Throwing that ass back to none other than Megan the mutha fuckin stallion. As you engaged in the usual hot girl antics you couldn’t help but notice the pair of blood colored eyes lingering.
“How bout a picture?” You teased.
“How about you bring your pretty ass here instead.”
Ignoring Sebastian you stood in front of a mirror adjusting your outfit. It was less than a second your chubby thighs were swallowing up your boyfriend’s lap.
“Oh dear, it seems you’ve made quite a choice.” His accent thicker than before. His large hands grabbed and felt up your waist and breast. He snatched you up with no intentions of letting go. The shirt you wore was torn off while kisses trailed along your shoulder.
“Sebastian,” you said in a breathy whisper. His fingers found their way past your underwear to your clit, rubbing circles. Lips attached to yours.
Sebastian flipped you over, spreading your legs, he grinded his clothed erection against your pussy. His mouth lowered to your ear, “All actions have consequences and you’re gonna take every drop of my cum until you’re birthing my kids.”
Your cheeks heated up as he removed his clothing, flexing the muscles he built. Pushed your knees together he slid his warm shaft between your tight walls. Sweat lined along his hairline from the different positions he flipped you in.
“Your doing well my love.” He said with his half lidded eyes. The sound of your skin hitting spread through the room. Your nails latched on his muscular back. He enjoyed feeling your walls tighten around him as he bought you to your climax.
“Fuck,” he groaned releasing his nut in your sponge-like pussy. Sebastian swiped the small amount of semen that tried falling out. Pushing it back in he held his finger in you for a bit, proud of his work.
Version 2. Loyalty
Your heels clacked under the hard floorboards. In the dining hall several house maids and cooks awaited your entrance.
“Good morning my lady.” Their voices raised in unison.
“Where is Sebastian?” You questioned, swishing the black laced fan back and forth.
“Right here my darling,” his large figure strutted towards you. He placed a subtle kiss on your pretty cheek. The butler, that you were dating, escorted you to a table where steaming tea cooled.
“Is something the matter?” Sebastian asked, taking note of your gaze into the distance. Tea dripped down the side of the cup landing on the plate holding it.
“Be honest Sebby,” You starred daggers at the demon, “would you ever leave me?”
“Really dear what kind of fool do you take me for? As long as you’re alive I’ll be with you.” he quoted from a promise he made long ago.
“You are to stay by my side at all times, you can’t leave me. That is an order.” you demanded.
His face twisted in a grin, “understood.”
Under the table your fingers fiddled with a razor blade. You flung it at him, smiling when he caught it between his teeth. A dark aura arose from the two of you.
He dropped it in the palm of his white glove, “now now, lets save the games for after you’ve finished your morning tea.”
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ig | @theziaries
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You've made it! Today's the 10th, and final, day of Noelle Vella's Scavenger Hunt! For our final question, tell us who your favorite character is from A Weekend Affair and The Witches of Salix Pointe! Email all responses to email@example.com
Thank you to everyone who participated! If you haven't gotten all your answers/tasks in yet, you have until tonight 11:59 PM EST! Winners to be announced soon!A Weekend Affair, The Witches of Salix Point, and A Weekend Affair 2: Back to Reality are all available at:
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It's In A Book Break
I just finished book 3 and I am on to book 4. Til I get through it, I'm off these. I want to gather up some unspoilable moments and talk writing for the next one.
Here's hoping I'll have something else to post next week though.
I Fucked Up - Stiles Stilinski
Word count; 855
Stiles does the only thing he can think of that will keep you safe. Takes place in season 3
Warning: angst. Sorry Charlie
Gif by @shxdowsofthenight
He couldn't stop pacing. Back and forth he paced the empty isle in the library while he awaited her arrival. Stiles chewed on his thumbnail completely unprepared for what was coming.
Did he want to do this?
Did he have to?
This world, the crazy supernatural world he found himself mixed into wasn't meant for people like her. The last thing he wanted to do was drag her into this mess; Stiles was absolutely positive he'd die if something happened to her and would be no one's fault but his own. Her life was something he wasn't willing to risk.
With the alpha pack mercilessly killing pack members and some crazed person or thing out there sacrificing people, It was best for him to keep his distance. The way he saw it, Y/n would have a better chance.
So he had to leave her.
"Stiles," she called to him with a bright smile on her face visible at seven as she been corner heading straight for him.
It was wrong to smile in her face given the situation they would soon be in, but Stiles couldn't help it. Her smile was contagious.
"I been wating all day to kiss that adorable face of your." She said wrapping her arms around his neck; his arm instinctively wrapped to her waist as she leaned in connecting their lips.
It was wrong of him, knowing what he was about to do, for him to let her kiss him like that. Kiss him with nothing but genuine compassion and love. Desperately he kisses back trying not to make it so obvious that something was wrong. Stiles wanted to be seflish in this moment, for he knew this was the last kiss the two would ever share.
"So what did you want to talk about it?"
Stiles said nothing as he studied her. Taking in every feature of her. From the golden specs in her hypnotizing hazel eyes, to the freckles on her cheek. Her caramel complexion￼. Her smile.
"Huh?" He rasped out his throat suddenly becoming alarming dry.
"You wanted to talk to me? Until you told me to meet you here during my free period and now you're quiet." Y/n frowned slightly, confused. "What's up?"
This was it. Now was the time. He opened his mouth to speak then shut it. Blowing out his breath, he tried again.
"Are....you okay?" Y/n asked clearly amused as Stiles gestured and flared his arms in frustration while stumbling and stuttering through sentences.
"This isn't working." He blurted out.
"This. Us. I don't want it any more."
"What -Stiles I don't understand." Y/n eyebrows furrowed together as she looked up at him.
"This relationship. It isn't going anywhere. I'm not into it. I thought I could fake It til I made it but...." Stiles swallowed hard. "I just don't love you Y/n. I never did."
"Stiles I, what did I do?" Her voice was shaky and rushed. "If I did something wrong let me fix it...."
No, he thought. You're perfect baby. It's me. I'm the one that's fucked up.
Stiles wanted desperately to back pedal. To tell her he didn't mean it, but he couldn't. He couldn't risk her finding out about the supernatural. Y/n; ever so passive wanted to make it all better. He had to go harder. It was the only way she'd understand. It was the only way to push her away.
"..I can be better-" she jumped as his raised voice cut her off.
"Just stop! I don't want you I never wanted you. It was all a game and I won. I don't know why I let this go on this long. I'm sorry."
"You don't mean that.." Y/n closed her eyes shaking her head and her heart broken into a million pieces.
"I really do." He stated dryly
Y/n pulled her jacket closer toward herself, trying to distract herself from breaking down in front of the guy she was madly in love with.
The guy that didn't love her back.
Swallowing, she looked up and wiped her check. She opened her mouth to speak but the only thing that came out was a sob. Quickly slapping a hand over her mouth she shook her head before turning to make a quick exit. Soon as she reached the end of the isle she bumped into Scott sho smile and steadied her.
"Hey Y/n- whoa." Scott frowned when he saw the tears streaming down her face. "Are you okay?"
She shook her head and kept going. Not once did she look back at her ex-boyfriend and friend, pushing her way through the library exit heading straight for the girls bathroom where she broke down.
Slowly, Scott walked over to Stiles who was staring blankly at the floor.
"What's wrong with Y/n? Why does it reek of sadness and guilt and - " Scott paused, placing his hand on Stiles' shoulders. "What did you do. Stiles?"
Lifting his head up with a blank expression and watery eyes, he answered.
"I fucked up Scott. I fucked up."
That's, how you start an introduction folks!
Kidding. I lowkey cringe
No seriously, I don’t know what this is! I’ve been watching all these old shows that I fell in love with and I’m still in love with and I had to
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In This Life of Sin (Yandere! Mafia Boss Bakugo x Black! Fem Darling)
Chap 1. Work smarter not harder
This is going to be a full story available on AO3 follow me on AO3 if you want to see more
The atmosphere changed whenever Katsuki Bakugo entered a room.
You noticed that the first day he ever stepped foot in the gentleman’s clothing store you worked at.
Despite his sophisticated attire, the tall broad shouldered man screamed power and danger.
As usual he was flanked by several other men in equally well tailored suits. One of the men had long, dark red hair, one man had a goofy, ever present smile and black hair, the last guy had honey blonde hair and amber eyes. You wondered if the black lightening bolt in the side stood for anything?
Almost in sync, the four men entered the store. The few customers dawdling around, cast uneasy glances towards the men as they entered the store, but you knew better.
All you saw were four dollar signs as your top customers entered. You smoothed your dark pencil skirt before stepping from behind the counter to greet them, eyes zeroing in on the big spender at the front knowingly.
“Welcome to Dapper, how may I serve you?” You smiled.
“Keep greeting me like that, and I’ll tell you exactly how you can serve me, Kitten.” The blonde ringleader replied.
Your brown cheeks burned at the comment, and Bakugo smirked at the sight of your cute little smile. He unhooked his gold cufflinks.
“You know what I want, y/n.” He said in a gruff voice, licking his lips, and the suggestive timbre in his tone made you shiver.
With a nod you headed to the back to grab the newest set of diamond cufflinks that the store had just gotten in.
“Here you go, sir. We just got ‘em in this week.”
“Perfect.” Crimson eyes were still locked on you. He held out his wrist. “You mind, doll?”
Swallowing the clump of nerves in your throat, you fastened the links, aware of the predatory eyes staring you down the whole while.
“You like your job, Ms. Y/n?” The man asked, suddenly.
Your arched brows lifted in surprise at the question.
“I like being able to pay my bills, Mr. Bakugo.” You replied. Nice and neutral in case your boss was in the vicinity.
The reply made the man laugh. It was rough and deep.
“Realistic, sir,” you hummed, hooking the other link on, “realistic.”
“Well, Ms. Realist, when’s the last time you did something other than work?” He questioned shaking his wrists to admire the sparkle of the diamonds.
“I’m sorry?” Your brow wrinkled.
“You heard me,” he replied. “My guys here tell me that even when they come in to shop or pick somethin’ up for me you’re always here. I know you’re always the first face I see whenever I come in. So when was your last day off?”
You ponder the question for a while under the scrutinizing eyes of the four men.
“I-I think it took some time a month back.”
The man scoffed, condescendingly and the sound of it didn’t sit right with you.
“Sweets, if you can’t remember, you work too damn hard.”
“Well, bills don’t exactly pay themselves, sir.” You shot back at him, cuttingly. The man raised a brow, clearly surprised at being spoken to that way. “Should I wrap these for you sir? Or would you rather wear them out.”
Bakugo’s face relaxed into a smile.
“I’d like to wear you out.”
“E-excuse me?!” You blanched.
He laughed. “I’ll wear ‘em home, doll, can you take care of me?” He asked in a low voice.
Your mind was still running wild at the man’s earlier statement leaving you too frazzled to think up a reply.
Luckily, Bakugo spared you by pulling out a credit card.
“Ring me up, babe.” He chuckled.
“Ohh!” The burn crept down your nape. “I-of course. After me.”
Turning stiffly you led the men to the counter and felt eyes on every inch of your curves. There was a reason you dressed the way you did. A high end store like this was ripe with men of money. The more you could finesse out of these rich old pervs the better your check would look at the end of the month.
Still, you couldn’t help putting an extra switch in your hips as you headed for the register.
As you rang the man up, he leaned over the counter, eyes running over your face then your hands and finally stopping at the bit of cleavage peeking out of your blouse.
“You know, there is a such thing as worker smarter and not harder, right, Ms. L/N?”
“I’ve heard the saying.” You reply, still working the register.
“So, why don’t you do it?”
With a weary sigh, you handed Bakugo back his card. His friends dispersed to window shop around the store while you were left to face the man alone.
“I don’t know what you have against me working, Mr. Bakugo, but whatever it is, I suggest you take it up with capitalism. I would love to stay at home all day and make money in my sleep, but unfortunately, life doesn’t work that way, so if that will be a-“
A silver money clip wielding a wad of cash got thrown on the counter, silencing you.
Your painted lips dropped open at the fat stack.
Bakugo huffed, amused. “It could work that way,” he replied, “if you come work for me instead.”
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Here's my BIGGEST problem with The Princess and the Frog:
It perpetuates the notion that Black women and girls are only deserving of love when we've struggled to get it, aka the struggle love trope. The media constantly pushes this narrative that Black women must endure hardships, abuse, and other kinds of trauma before our desire to love and be loved can be validated. Yes, I'm looking at you, Tyler Perry, but I'll get to you another time. The point is, Tiana could have remained human and had a completely different (and better) storyline. Why did she have to “earn” her princess title? Why was she a frog for 80% of the movie? I'll tell you why. 1. The media and society have always equated Black people, especially Black women, to animals, and we've been deemed subhuman since the beginning of time. 2. Per my Uma post, Black women and girls are never seen as royalty or even worthy of the princess treatment. If we are, we must be humbled because that's not how the game works. ( Meghan Markle is biracial, but look at how everyone treats her, imagine if she was monoracial, dark skin, and unambiguous. Yes, colorism and featurism play a role in this too.) I mean, look at who has pretty privilege. The beauty standards are centered around cishet non-disabled, skinny, white women with keen features. So, it's no surprise that the ONLY Black princess gets treated like this.
Here's what I would have liked to see happen:
The writers could have made it so that Naveen stays a frog; Tiana takes him home as a “pet” he spends time in her world to understand her more, and over time they could have developed a friendship. As the two become closer, Naveen’s curse starts to wear off, and the moment they confess their love for each other, it gets lifted; they kiss and live happily ever after. Furthermore, we also could've seen more of Black Southern culture /NOLA Culture. I think Naveen is Indo Caribbean, so we could've learned more about his too, and what it would look like when the two are blended together. They could have done SO much, but they didn't want to simply because Tiana’s Black.
In conclusion, Black characters deserve better, specifically women. And the Black people consuming these characters deserve better as well. Thanks so much for reading!
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I am beyond excited to announce that my very first poetry book, Like A Butterfly, will be published and released on JUNE 8th, 2021! 🦋💐
My mom asked me how I felt about my book being done the other day, and I told her that I feel so incredibly accomplished. I’m so proud of myself for publishing my first book at 24 years old. It’s a great start to many more book creations to come. ✨ I can’t wait to share a piece of my heart, mind, and soul with you all. I hope you all are just as excited as I am.
I’d love to give a HUGE shoutout to Nicole Mauck for the amazing illustrations, she did for the book! Her hard work and creativity are unmatched. I love her. 💓
We worked hard at putting this baby together!
As always, thank you guys for being here with me on this journey. You know that it's been a long road for those of you that have been supporting me from the beginning. But we’ve made it here, and it’s only the beginning. I’m grateful for you ALL, nonetheless. Cheers to healing and feeling together. Much love. 💖
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