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goddessofthundathighs · 3 years

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*Taps mic* Is this thing on? Okay, I know it's been AGES since I blessed your dashboards with new content, but listen... Shit happens, okay? This is my submission to @nahimjustfeelingit-writes Smut Challenge. And in the words of the great Erykah Badu, keep in mind that I'm an artist, & I'm sensitive about my shit. Enjoy!

“The story you 'bout to hear is complete fiction

It is however made up of a group of stories

True stories about real people

Thus creating real characters going through real things

Thus making the story itself real, true, and a real story, a true story

Is non-fiction…”

Non-Fiction x Ne-Yo

“Wait a damn minute! He did what?!” Alexandria screeched, nearly choking on the smoke of the freshly pearled blunt she’d rolled. Her eyes were wide with excitement and mild disbelief at what I had just told her.

“You heard me, bitch,” I replied, sipping my glass of wine. This was girl’s weekend and what better way to kick it off than spilling the details of the day’s freaky deeky adventure.

“How the fuck did that even happen?” Kenya inquired, crossing the threshold to the kitchen. I smirked, biting my lip at the memory of what had happened only a few hours prior.

“Chill out,” I giggled. “I’ll start from the beginning…”

The day started like any other. After my morning meditation and journal session, I grabbed my phone, smiling wide at a particularly generous tip on my latest CamSoda release. Public masturbation was the theme this week and everyone seemed to love the clip of me in the back of the music hall, including my music professor.

“Thank you, Dr. Turner,” I said aloud as I ventured to my bathroom to begin my skincare routine. Once my face and body were squeaky clean, I slid over to my perfume wall to pick the day’s scent.

“Champagne Toast or Sunrise Woods?” I mused before settling on the Sunrise Woods. I’d picked it up during my latest mall adventure. Upon smelling it, I fell in love with the way the sandalwood and cashmere notes complimented my mocha skin as well as the way it layered with my cocoa vanilla shea butter. For it to be a Bath & Body Work scent, the combination was very grown and sexy. I then slid over to my closet to pick the day’s outfit. I was working from the office today so I needed something that was sexy, but still professional. I decided on a white mid-length blouse with a black pencil skirt and sheer black thigh highs with my favorite pair of So Kates.

The commute to work was surprisingly short, given the amount of traffic on the freeway. I parked in my usual spot and made my way to our shared office suite.

“Good morning, Ms. Baptiste. You look stunning as usual.”

“Thank you, Mr. Stevens,” I replied in the sweetest voice. “Give me a few minutes and I’ll have your schedule ready.”

“Take your time,” he replied, his voice laced with mild seduction. “I have something to handle before I get my morning started.”

“That sounds nasty, but I’m gonna let you have it,” I said with a chuckle. “Did you still want me to organize your email inbox?”

“Would you please? Every time I try, I get overwhelmed and frustrated and shut down the whole damn system,” he admits.

“No problem, I can get started on that right now. Would you mind bringing me a coffee since it looks like you were headed down to Starbucks?”

“Sure, caramel macchiato, right?”

“Look at my boss, remembering what I like! You get brownie points for that, Mr. Stevens.”

He huffed a laugh before turning on his heels to leave the suite. After compiling his schedule and sitting it on his desk, I began the gruesome task of organizing his emails. I compiled everything into folders based on importance and was about to click off before another tab caught my attention.

“What is this?” I ask aloud, clicking the folder. My eyes grew to the size of saucers when I saw the contents.

“So you are a freak.”

I lift my eyes slowly to meet his gaze. How he managed to get to Starbucks and back so fast is beyond me, but here he was standing in front of my desk.

“Did you like what you saw in the video, Ms. Baptiste?” he asked, seeming to stare directly into my soul.

I nodded as he began stripping out of his suit jacket and tie.

“Good, because I wanna see if you can do better.”

He casually strolls to my side of the desk, unbuttoning his shirt to reveal the most beautiful body I had ever seen. Each ab was perfectly sculpted and riddled with intricately placed crocodile scars. When he was within arm's length, I reached out to touch, rubbing my hands along each scar. The sensation was electrifying. He grabbed my hand, sliding it down to the growing bulge in his pants, licking his lips when he noticed my mouth watering.

“Wanna taste?”

“Yes Daddy,” I moan.

“Good girl. Pull him out.”

I wasted no time undoing his belt, taking his dick as far back as my throat would allow. The moan I got in return sent the blood rushing to the apex of my thighs. He was bigger than I was used to, but that didn’t faze me as I continued to lick and slurp.

“So how do you wanna do this, baby girl? You wanna be cute and suck this dick like a lady, or can I fuck that face like the slut I know you are.”

I pulled off with a pop, lifting my head to meet his gaze.

“First of all, I’m a Princess and you will address me as such. Second of all, I’ll take the face fucking for $500 Alex.”

He grins slyly before his hand fisted my hair, using that as leverage to fuck my face at a ferocious pace. Spit dripped down my chin and onto my shirt as he pushed past my gag reflex. I groan, sliding my hand between my legs to ease the pressure building at my core.

“Who told you to touch my pussy?” he growls softly.

“N-Nobody, Daddy,” I whine, stroking his balls with my free hand.

“But you're doing it anyway. Disobedient little girl,” he chuckled darkly. “So how are you gonna make it up to me?”

Before I could answer, a shrill voice caught my attention.

“Lyric!”

My head whipped around at the sound of my name. I didn’t even realize that I had disassociated until I saw Ariana standing in front of me with her hands on her exceptionally wide hips.

“Huh?” I answered after realizing where I was.

“I asked of Mr. Stevens was back in his office. He and I have some things to discuss regarding my internship.”

“Oh yeah, he’s in there. Give me a second and I’ll let him know you’re here.”

She nodded as I walked to the adjacent door.

“Mr. Stevens, Ariana is here to see you. Umm, quick question.. Did you ever bring me my coffee?”

He blinked, before flashing an innocent smile. “You got your coffee three hours ago, Ms. Baptiste. It’s about time for your lunch break isn’t it?”

I checked the time and sure enough, it was 12:30 in the afternoon. Had I really been watching his homemade porn for 3 hours?

What the hell? I thought to myself, trying to wrap my mind around what the fuck was happening and whether or not I was losing my damn mind. He seemed to notice my struggle as he leaned forward on his elbows.

“You aight?” he asks with a raised eyebrow.

I nodded quickly, smoothing my hands down my skirt. “Yes I’m fine, I opened the window to let in a little fresh air and it must've gotten too hot in my office. I’ll see you in an hour.”

“See you then, Lyric. You can send Ms. Banks in.”

There’s something so hot about doing something spicy where you really shouldn’t be doing it. After finishing my lunch, I made my way down to the employee parking lot. I pulled up the CamSoda app, opting to go live instead of filming a regular video.

“Who wants to see their goddess masturbating on her lunch break?” I asked seductively, pulling my rose toy from my bag. Once the video had a substantial amount of views, I began the show.

“Oooh fuck,” I moaned as the vibrator sucked my clit with precision. With one leg propped on my console and the other on my dashboard, I went to town on myself, occasionally looking around to make sure no one important could see. I imagined that the toy was Erik’s tongue, licking and sucking until there was nothing left. My eyes rolled to the back of my head as I remembered one of the videos in the hidden folder. He had one of the other interns bent over his desk while he stroked her pussy with a vengeance.

“Oh shit, I’m about to cum,” I moaned, burying my face in my hair as my orgasm began to build. I squirmed and bucked against the seat and was just about to squirt when I heard a knock on my window. I opened my eyes to see Mr. Stevens staring back at me with a stern look on his face.

“Aww fuck,” I said readjusting my clothes. “Gotta cut this one short, babies. Love you guys!” I blew a kiss at the screen before ending the steam. I tucked the toy back into my bag and stepped out of the car, looking down at the pavement sheepishly.

“My office, 5 minutes,” was all he said before walking away.

“Mr. Stevens!” I called after him but he just kept walking. “Man damn!” I cursed loudly as I followed him. When I made it to our shared suite, I noticed that his office door was closed. I sat my purse on my desk before knocking softly.

“Mr. Stevens?”

“Come in, Lyric.”

I stepped into his office and before I could think, the words began flowing like diarrhea.

“Mr. Stevens, I’m so sorry. Please don’t fire me. It was a stupid mistake and I promise it’ll never happen again.”

He looks up from the legal pad that he had been writing on, twirling a pen between his hands.

“Ms. Baptiste I’ve only said two words to you. Calm down.”

I nodded, sitting down in the chair across from his desk to collect myself. I stared at the floor awaiting my punishment.

“Look at me.” His tone was soft, but his voice was stern. I bit my lip before lifting my head to meet his gaze.

“We’re both grown, Ms. Baptiste. So be honest with me, that’s not the first time you’ve done something like that, is it?”

I sighed softly. “No.”

“How many times have you done it before?”

“Four.”

“So you’ve recorded yourself masturbating on my time in my parking lot four times, correct?” he repeats, almost tauntingly.

“Yes, Mr. Stevens. But--” he puts a hand up to stop me from continuing.

“Do you think of me when you touch yourself, Ms. Baptiste?”

My mind went blank as I stared back at him. He simply chuckled before continuing.

“You know,” he said, scooting back from the desk. “If you’re gonna show the internet how wet your pussy gets from thinking about me, at least invite me so I can show them how messy she can really get.”

I’m sorry, what?

“O-Oh... I .. Umm,” I stuttered, watching him.

“C’mere,” he instructs. I comply, moving to sit on top of his desk.

“Thinking about me fucking you the way I fuck the girls in those videos gets you wet, huh?” He asked, sliding his hands up my thighs as he placed his body between my legs. My words were dead in my throat so I could only nod, but he understood.

“Tell me how bad you want it,” he said, stroking my still throbbing pussy through my panties.

“I want it bad,” I replied in a needy tone. In a flash, my panties were pulled to the side and he was stroking me like a prisoner fresh out of a 20-year stint. My moans were loud and uncontrollable, but that didn’t stop him.

“You never answered my question, Lyric,” he teased, licking the shell of my ear. “Do you think about me when you touch yourself?”

“Yeeesss,” I moaned, digging my nails in his thigh as he plunged deeper.

“You've been dreaming of the day I fucked you, huh? You've been wanting this dick bad, haven’t you?”

Why do men feel the need to ask questions when they’re tap-dancing on your g-spot? As if the answers they’re going to receive will be coherent or make sense. My pussy answered for me, sending a wave of juices down both of our thighs.

“Gushy ass, fat ass pussy,” he growled, sliding his hand up my body to grip my throat.

“Oh shit!” I screamed as I squirted, successfully wetting his entire lower half.

“Oh she’s a Super Soaker,” he laughed. “Do it again.”

He pulls out, slapping his dick on my clit, before diving back in.

“Eriiiiik!”

“Yeah, gimme that shit, Princess,” he encouraged, sending over the edge once more. Once his thrusts became erratic, I knew he was close.

“Where you want it, ma?”

I slid down off the desk and onto my knees, opening my mouth wide. He granted my wishes, releasing his thick load down my throat.

“Good fucking girl,” he moaned, smoothing his hand down the back of my head. I drank his unborns happily, before standing up to fix my skirt. He grabbed my chin, kissing me sloppily before pulling away.

“See you Monday, Ms. Baptiste.”

#my shit #vanity writes #killmonger fic #smutchallenge #erik killmonger #killmonger smut #killmonger x oc

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artificialqueens · 7 years

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We'll Show Them: Chapter Nine- Luci

an // I finally got round to finishing this chapter, I’m not the most productive at the moment. Thanks as always to the aq Brits and everyone who reads this fic <3

summary: Shea finally understands Farrah’s strange behaviour as she is brought into Sasha’s plan.

Shea drew the paper cup full of coffee away from her lips, staring at the red stain she’d left on it. She had used the napkin that was previously wrapped around the cup to fix her smudged lipstick, and now felt the boiling water burn her hand as she clutched the cup.

The day was warmer than the previous ones had been, and yet Shea refused to drink the more refreshing coke or lemonade that were placed in the fridge by Trinity.

She enjoyed drinking the coffee that was just a little on the wrong side of too sweet after putting two sweeteners in, but it was like a comfort to her. Shea needed consistency in her otherwise fluctuating career, one day productive and the next so monotonous that Shea was left to wonder why she stayed.

Leaning back in her chair, Shea put her hands behind her head and closed her eyes. But the peace was shattered within moments as Shea felt a looming shadow fall over her body. She also felt something tickle her nose, and she wiggled it in frustration. Slowly opening one eye, Shea was greeted by Farrah’s blonde hair in her face, golden strands caressing her nose.

Shea reached up and brushed it away, irritated, as Farrah smiled sheepishly. She glanced at the clock in the corner of the computer, wondering why Farrah was standing at her desk at ten in the morning.

“I’m sorry to disturb the nap, Shea, but Peppermint wants you to call her,” Farrah informed as she reached to pick up the phone on Shea’s desk, and handed it to her.

With narrowed eyes, Shea dialled Peppermint’s number, grumbling “Why can’t Peppermint just call me,” as she waited for the woman to pick up the phone.

“Hey, Peppermint, it’s Shea. Farrah here seems pretty eager that I call you, everything okay?” Shea greeted, shooting a glance at the receptionist.

“Yeah, thanks Shea. I need to meet you, Farrah said she’ll bring you down town, and she knows where to go already. I’ve authorized it with Eureka; she said she didn’t mind as long as ‘you were doing some work for once’.” Peppermint explained; her tone one of joy. Shea’s suspicions weren’t lessened any by the phone call, and she hung up just as confused as before.

“So, what did she say?” Farrah asked in a sing-song voice.

“She needs to talk to me, and I’m supposed to follow you. God, that’s like the blind leading the blind,” Shea teased, standing up and collecting her bag as Farrah pouted at her. She pressed the coffee cup to her mouth as she followed Farrah out of the door, ignoring everyone’s intrigued stares.

“So, where are we headed?” Shea asked as she held the door open for Farrah. The girl slipped under Shea’s arm, blatantly ignoring the question.

Shea knew it would just be left in the air, unanswered, and so she silently followed Farrah onto the streets, which were slowly becoming busier as people made their way to work.

Shea walked cautiously along the sidewalk, Farrah skipping at her side. The main reason why Shea’s suspicion had grown was because of the receptionist’s change in demeanour.

She’d been sulking ever since Sasha left, and Shea had even caught her crying in the breakroom on multiple occasions. She hadn’t realised quite how close the pair were.

Shea didn’t mean to seem selfish, but she hadn’t anticipated that Sasha had developed such a strong friendship with anyone other than Shea herself. Seeing Farrah behind the reception desk wipe her eyes with the back of her hand, staining her cheek with tears, Shea realised how wrong she’d been. However, now Farrah was humming to herself happily, urging Shea to hurry up. She didn’t understand what had happened to change Farrah’s mood so dramatically.

Shea felt as though she was walking a dog, or a child, as she shouted for Farrah to slow down, growing more and more anxious each time the younger woman was nearly hit by a car or a bike. People on the street walking towards the pair mumbled exasperated complaints as Farrah ran into them, yelling out an apology.

The apparent danger didn’t seem to affect Farrah in the slightest as she stopped at a crossing, out of breath, waiting for Shea. “It’s just down that road.” Farrah explained through ragged breaths. She shifted on her feet impatiently, even though she’d only been stood still for a moment. Shea rolled her eyes, but she couldn’t hide the amused smile that curved her lips.

“What is?” Shea asked, glancing down to the bottom of the road. She couldn’t see anything except for a crowd gathered in the distance. It was too far away for Shea to make out what they were doing and so she raised her eyebrows in question at Farrah, who was still smiling absentmindedly.

“If I could tell you Shea, I would’ve told you ages ago.” Farrah shrugged, exasperated, as she dragged Shea over the crossing.

Shea realised soon after that there was no point in arguing against the younger woman, and followed Farrah down the street, straining her eyes as she tried to make out what the crowd were looking at.

Farrah seemed suspiciously uninterested in the people in front of them, instead turning her attention to the fence beside her and running her hand along the railing. The girl was known for being curious, as if it were embedded in her nature.

She had bothered Eureka on her first day when she’d started as an intern for being the only one of three to ask questions. This had had the opposite effect on Trinity, however, who instead decided that Farrah was the only one deserving of the full time job. As much as Trinity had become fond of the girl, it hadn’t stopped Farrah from being a pain in the ass.

The fact that there was no interest gleaming in her eyes was uncharacteristic to say the least. The first thing Shea noticed when she reached the crowd was the abundance of colour. People dressed in bright, bold colours, and some even adorned that rainbow fabric that Shea was all too familiar with.

In her confused daze, the only face that Shea was able to make out was Peppermint’s, who was smiling warmly to others in the crowd.

“I can’t believe you guys organised a gay parade!” Shea laughed with happy disbelief. She didn’t listen to Farrah’s response, although she was sure it would’ve been smug, as she glanced over to the journalist.

Peppermint was holding a canvas sign in one hand. It was painted with pink lettering, announcing to the world ‘Breaking News: Lesbians Exist’.

It looked carefully painted, the powerful strokes weirdly familiar. Done by Sasha? Shea wasn’t sure. After glancing at the other signs that were being distributed in the crowd, Shea came to the conclusion that they all were, in fact, painted by Sasha, her suspicions verified as she spied Sasha standing on the pavement, handing out signs and posters to people without their own.

She was grinning as some elderly lady complimented her art, before taking a sign and re-joining her grandson.

Farrah clapped her hands excitedly as she saw Shea’s bewildered expression.

“Go on, then! Go talk to her,” Farrah encouraged, pointing to where Sasha was talking to two women beside the pavement.

Shea nodded slowly and made her way over to Sasha, fully aware of Farrah’s excited squeals behind her. She supposed the girl had been waiting for their first proper reunion for a while, ever since she’d learnt of Sasha’s plan.

Sasha turned around when she heard footsteps behind her. Her eyes lit up affectionately as Shea pulled her into a hug, not minding how the wooden sign in Sasha’s hand dug into her hip.

“You’ve been busy,” Shea laughed softly as Sasha held her sign proudly in her hands.

“I couldn’t do it anymore, I couldn’t pretend that it was right for them to do this for us. So I’ve been meeting with Peppermint for weeks now, and we decided that there was nothing stopping us from going public and showing the Head Office that a few critics aren’t worth firing either one of us,” Sasha explained, unable to hide her delighted grin.

“Plus, getting the story into the news will show them all our supporters,” Peppermint added as she skipped up to the pair, waving her sign in the air triumphantly. With her free hand, she gestured in the direction of the crowd. Shea grinned.

“And guess who agreed to cover it?” Sasha clapped excitedly, nodding her head in the direction of a camera crew. Stood amongst them, Alexis held a microphone and script, reading through what she had planned to say. Shea raised her eyebrows in surprise, seeing the woman embrace something she’d been wary of since the problems had first risen with Sasha all those months ago.

“How’d you manage that?” Shea asked with a grin, catching Alexis’ eye and giving her a wave. Alexis returned it awkwardly, uncomfortable as both women smiled at her from a distance.

“Guess she loves me after all,” Sasha shrugged, blowing Alexis a kiss. After a roll of the eyes and a scowl from Alexis, Sasha laughed loudly. Shea watched fondly as Sasha continued to wind up Alexis. Her eyes were brighter and she had a genuine smile on her lips, both features Shea had gotten used to not seeing.

“I never thought I’d hear that,” Shea mused aloud, watching Alexis standing in the distance, interviewing a couple beside her. Shea couldn’t hear much of what the two men were saying, but they were smiling, and she was grateful that Sasha had so many people on her side. She supposed they both had so many people on their side. Sasha just gave a shrug that read: neither did I.

With the distraction of excitement out of the way, Shea properly took in Sasha’s appearance. She looked much better than she had before, the burden lifted from her heavily weighted shoulders.

She wore a white dress with sunflowers decorating the fabric in the style of Van Gogh’s own painting. Sasha wore a denim jacket over her dress, her signature pins placed on the left side. When she spun around excitedly, the pins clacked together and, to Shea, it was almost lyrical. But then again, everything Sasha did was like music to Shea.

Farrah, feeling as though she’d left the two women for long enough, rejoined them. She was struggling to balance on her feet as she held three signs in her arms. Farrah’s was painted baby blue, and it read ‘My gay rights priorities are as straight as me’, and Sasha’s pink sign read ‘Love is news worthy’. Shea glanced down to the one she had been handed, and laughed loudly in amusement. Painted in white over a red background, her sign read, ‘I love my gay granddaughter’

“What the fuck is this?” Shea snorted, holding her sign up so that the two women could see it.

“Well, the old lady over there took the one I’d made for you,” Sasha whined, pointing to a woman who was talking to Trinity and Alexis.

“Doesn’t matter, I’m proud of my granddaughter anyway,” Shea shrugged, grinning as she held the sign up.

“You’re an idiot,” Sasha shook her head.

The two signs remained high in the air among all of Sasha’s other posters, but the pair’s other hands were entwined together. Shea found Sasha’s hand was covered in red, blue and green paint, with additional pink stains from where Sasha had been unable to wash it off earlier. Shea had expected nothing less.

“Let’s join the party,” Sasha smirked as she led Shea over to the crowd by the hand she still held. They found Trinity and Eureka who, though their hearts were in the right place, seemed uncomfortable in amongst the boisterous, excited crowd.

Farrah, Kimora and Aja stood firmly in front of them, chattering away to strangers they were next to. Aja was singing to two men she was adjacent to, already three drinks in. She waved a small flag in one hand, almost slapping Kimora in the face with it. Alexis and Peppermint had been brought over to the camera crew, and seemed to be working brilliantly together. The atmosphere was light, and for once there was no tension among them.

Shea turned to Sasha, seeing glowing hues of colour from her own painting reflected in her eyes. Sasha blushed under Shea’s intense gaze.

Sasha was never keen on being stared at, and she once told Shea that it felt as though her flaws were being examined under a microscope in a laboratory. That had always interested Shea as, even with her keen eyes, she’d never found a flaw on the woman. Especially not right now, as Sasha basked in the sun, shouting greetings to the supporters that called for her.

People took photos of Shea and Sasha together, but neither of them shied away from the camera.

Hand still tightly holding Shea’s, Sasha turned to face her, a wide grin stretching over rosy cheeks.

“Miss me?” Sasha asked; her arms still wound around Shea’s waist. She tilted her head to one side with a coy grin.

“Yeah, a little bit,” Shea shrugged, pulling Sasha closer so that she could kiss her again. Sasha had no objections, merely stood on tiptoes and leaned into the other woman’s embrace.

#sasha velour #shea coulee #sashea #luci #we'll show them #rpdr fanfiction #wst by luci #lesbian au

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swimmmusic · 7 years

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“The Big C!” A Preface: “It’s an understatement to say this album is over-indulgent with ‘crescendos’.”— —read the critique during the bashing of one of my favorite band’s debut albums a few years ago. For whatever reason that particular stab stuck with me. And regrettably, I somewhat accepted it. Confused and kind of sad that one of my favorite things about this band and music in general was all of a sudden ‘eye-roll inducing’. Well this piece is about fighting back against that and other critiques that take the fun out of everything… but most of all, it’s about reclaiming the crescendo! The Big C! Not to be confused with other mentionable Big C’s… Childbirth, Conception… and always as annoying as it is necessary, Contraceptive. Preface Over: A freshman that goes by the name of Slade, or Blaze, or something of the like, coughs the remnants of his last rip and passes the still cherry'd dream cylinder to his lady. (His bong not his member.) And through a haze of smoke, Blaze (or something of the like) ponders this aloud, "Ever think about how we're like, basically BORN INTO CRESCENDO?" (A cough and a giggle and blank stares from fire truck eyes.)   But really, Blaze has a point! So now I ask you to have a toke from your cylinder of choice and chief on this with me… The slow swoosh of the Sea inside the mother’s womb. Swishing once.. swooshing again. Contractions have begun! Swishing with a rhythm that grows faster and louder. Contractions getting closer together! Excitement and nerves growing. Swishing and swooshing faster and heavier till it explodes into the final chorus… life! And now think.. that's really just the beginning of the damn symphony! (Phew! Talk about an over-indulgent paragraph… guilty as charged!)   Contractions move in a rhythm which act as motivation for the baby to enter the world. As Amanda, the leading lady of the novel ’Another Roadside Attraction' exclaims, while gravid with her electric seedling, ”Rhythm is how it all begins." The rhythm of the womb.. swishing and swooshing the baby to have the aplomb to leave that safe harbor and brave the unpredictable time signatures of the wacky world. And how? How could we all be convinced? The crescendo! Something that builds so much tension... so much excitement that we are willing to leave the most peaceful place on Mother Earth. Just to see how it feels on the other side. This also proves that anticipation is in fact better than release. Although, rarely, if ever, does anticipation get the plaque or the party that release so often enjoys. What with its wild noises and peculiar facial contortions. Another player here is restraint. Yes, restraint, with its patience an its revered dullness. Yes, yes, it is as important here as the morphine drip and the doctors guiding hand... but that's an entirely different essay. One that builds slower and less gratuitously than this one, obviously. After all, art must imitate life and all that shit. So to all this musing. All these metaphors swishing and swooshing in and out of each other... my point is this. Musically speaking... How can we ever critique the crescendo as cliche or overused? John Lennon screamed the words "Shake it Up, Baby Now!" At the end of the most famous crescendo of music history. Could he have been so literal? Was he referring to the bombastic ascent into life-hood? Oh ye’ of cynical scope with your pretentious refinements circling the moat around your kill-joy fortress of ‘taste’… you’re going to tell me The Beatles were just a little too excited about the twisting and the shouting that lay on the other side of their Big C? You’re gonna tell me less is more when Shea Stadium is bursting at the seams with girls screaming for every inch of that Big C? (hmm. word choice.) You’re FITTIN to tell me that even with the miracle of childbirth, with its bridges of rhythm and tension, its ever-quickening pulse and its eventual eruption into life… that the crescendo is passé? For the love of Liverpool, man, it gave you life! -Cookie (the other Big C and reclaimer of the Crescendo) (My essay on how the Big C is just as important in the ‘conception phase’ of childbirth can be found on the Dark Web and will be read aloud in an Alec Baldwin-esque whisper beneath the lava lamp in my room. Readings will commence at the witching hour of every Saturday in October. Be there or be a square.)

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teresaelectro · 6 years

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CBR9 Review #13: Black girl poetic magic found in Electric Arches by Eve L. Ewing

Electric Arches is collection of poetry by Eve L. Ewing.

Her poems muse on the black experience. She reveals painful moments of racism she encounters and in handwritten font adds her imagined replies to the N-word. She writes odes to her musical heroes in "Appletree [on black womanhood, from and to Erykah Badu] and "On Prince". Each poem describes how their music touched her soul. She uplifts the ordinary with her words adding a fantastical gloss of wonder.

"so in this world, grease is a compliment,

no it's a weapon,

no, it's a dream you had, where it was cold

and your mother, seeing the threat of gray at your elbows

and knowing that ash is the language of the dead knelt, and put her hands on your face like this

and annoited you a protected child, a hot iron in a place of frost,"

- Excerpt from "Shea Butter Manifesto".

Both of these poems hit me right where I live. A rally cry for black girl magic. I don't want to live in a world without Shea Moisture, but I would like to stop explaining why strangers can't touch my hair.

I had the pleasure of attending a reading with at the Los Angeles Public Library in Exposition Park. Poetry read aloud from the author's lips is a rare treat. Totally worth leaving the house on a lazy Sunday afternoon. The author graciously signed my copy of the book. What I love about poetry books is you can revisit random pages and see something entirely new. Even reading poems I had already heard was a new experience. You engage your memory while discovering things you may have missed. Her poetry is very accessible with mentions of real people throughout including LeBron. This was a wonderful read to close out 2017. Thematically, it was the perfect book to read after The Hate U Give. Highly recommend this of black speculative fiction, especially any Octavia E. Butler fans and modern poetry readers. Also be sure to follow her hilarious and inspiring twitter! You won't be disappointed.

I may not have hit a half cannonball, but I did read 12 books. Two more than last year. I also branched out of my genre comfort zone. I reviewed an autobiography, a cookbook and now this poetry book. Last year was mainly urban fantasy and romance reads! I also miraculously reviewed books before the last week of December. Progress I say. Excited for CBR10 in 2018 where I hope to read even more and procrastinate less.

This is my thirteenth and final review for Cannonball Read 9. An annual, memorial book challenge to read and review 52 books in a year. Or 26. Or 13. Choose your level and read to meet your goal all while fundraising for the American Cancer Society in the memory of AlabamaPink.

#electric arches #book review #poetry #eve l ewing #cannonball read #sticking it to cancer #black speculative fiction #fantasy #black lives matter #racism #shea butter #black girl magic #cbr9

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