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reckoningss
Anonymous asked:

Hey! Could you do a girl a favor and recommend other writers who do poc reader inserts? People like you are so hard to find on this hellhole of a website.

This is going to tell on me [because I’m a garbage person who doesn’t read as much as she should] but off the top of my head:

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@chaneajoyyy you’re the library.. Can you add more to this list babe?

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First 👏🏼 of 👏🏼 all 👏🏼 Michael 👏🏼 B 👏🏼 Jordan 👏🏼 how fucking dare you post a vid of you in bed with your voice deeper than my mother fucking trust issues and then laugh like it’s no big deal

So I’ll update you guys with ultrasound pics every so often…..

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“I want to speak to a manager,” the middle-aged woman said in her stern I-used-to-be-a-soccer-mom-ten-years-ago voice, looking down at me over the top of her Gucci reading glasses.

A wicked grin split across my face and the gates of Hell opened up behind me, releasing a gust of hot wind that whipped my apron around my body and forced the woman to shield her face. Demons came forth, dancing around in flames with songs of, “She wants to speak to a manager. Did you hear that? She wants to speak to a manager!” before erupting into earsplitting shrieks of laughter, none louder than my own cackling.

I took in the woman’s look of utter horror before my eyes rolled back into my head and I growled,

“I am the manager.”

a thing for one of my favorite posts on this site

always reblog. no matter where i see it, i reblog it!

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Trying to find the joy to write ... depression is funny sometimes. Usually it strips me of all things. Not this time. Only one. Right now I’m writing for me. I’ll find a story for you in there.

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My sociology professor had a really good metaphor for privilege today. She didn’t talk about race or gender or orientation or class, she talked about being left-handed.

A left-handed person walks into most classrooms and immediately is made aware of their left-handedness - they have to sit in a left-handed seat, which restricts their choices of where to sit. If there are not enough left-handed seats, they will have to sit in a right-handed seat and be continuously aware of their left-handedness. (There are other examples like left-handed scissors or baseball mitts as well.)

Meanwhile, right-handed people have much more choice about where to sit, and almost never have to think about their right-handedness.

Does this mean right-handed people are bad? No.

Does it mean that we should replace all right-handed desks with left-handed desks? No.

But could we maybe use different desk styles that can accommodate everyone and makes it so nobody has limited options or constant awareness that they are different? Yes.

Now think of this as a metaphor. For social class. For race. For ethnicity. For gender. For orientation. For anything else that sets us apart.

WHY DOESN’T THIS HAVE MORE NOTES?

Because I posted it about 90 seconds ago, calm down.

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Bori is an African traditional religion of the Hausa people of West Africa that involves spirit possession

Bòòríí is a Hausa noun, meaning the spiritual force that resides in physical things, and is related to the word for local distilled alcohol (borassa) as well the practice of medicine (boka).The Bori religion is both an institution to control these forces, and the performance of an “adoricism” (as opposed to exorcism) ritual, dance and music by which these spirits are controlled and by which illness is healed.

An aspect of the traditional Maguzawa Hausa religious traditions, Bori became a state religion led by ruling-class priestesses among some of the late pre-colonial Hausa states.

Priestesses communed with spirits through ecstatic dance ritual, hoping to guide and maintain the state’s ruling houses. A corps of Bori priestesses and their helpers was led by royal priestess, titled the “Inna”, or “Mother of us all”.The Inna oversaw this network, which was not only responsible for protecting society from malevolent forces through possession dances, but which provided healing and divination throughout the kingdom.

In spirit possession all over Africa the gender of the possessing spirit takes precedence over the gender of the possessed. A man possessed by a female spirit for ritual purposes takes the personality of a woman, while a woman possessed by a male spirit takes the personality of a man. This often has no relevance to everyday living. Bori possession cults exist in countries all over Africa under different names. However it is only found in some ethnic groups and is totally absent in most.

In modern Muslim Hausaland, Bori ritual survives in some places assimilated into syncretic practices. The pre-Muslim “babbaku” spirits of the Maguzaci have been added to over time with “Muslim” spirits (“farfaru”), and spirits of (or representing) other ethnic groups, even those of the European colonialists. The healing and “luck” aspects of Bori members performances, almost entirely women, give new social roles for their rituals and practitioners.Bori ritual societies, separated from governing structures, provide a powerful corporate identity for the women who belong to them through the practice of traditional healing, as well as through the performance of Bori festival like the girka initiation ritual.

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Murder For Love

A/N: I have no idea why this idea came to me. I hope you enjoy it. I’m trying to get better with this writing. I also can’t write smut to save my life, ima do better.

Warnings: Cursing, blood, murder, guns

Erik x Reader

Word Count: 1, 138/ 4 minute read

You were sleeping, like dead to the world type of knocked out. Aliens could’ve invaded your city and you wouldn’t have noticed. You rollover wanting to snuggle with Erik but his side of the bed was cold.

You lift your head and look around the bedroom as if he could still be in there. He wasn’t. Erik was gone and only Bast knew where.

Your head flopped back down to the pillows, you were too tired to keep it up. You were sure you’d just drift off to sleep until you heard this noise, then you got a text.

Basement. Now.

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Untitled

AN: Uhh, this was written out of bordem. I haven’t been able to think of anything else to write for my other stories. I doubt if I complete this but it was fun to get this idea out of my head. I hope you enjoy reading this. 

Warnings: None

Words: 1157

“Take you in back of the buildings, make you expose your rage. Take you across the tracks, make you explode a face. Now you official now, but you got a soul to save.” -Nipsey Hussle

PREFACE

Rain laughed maniacally and then pulled the trigger. The shot bouncing off the walls off the small apartment. She gave a smile of satisfaction. Turning to exit, “Clean it up” she ordered the man standing around. Immediately they moved to dispose of the body. Rain, with a swagger in her walk, made her exit out of the small apartment. Unlocking her phone she typed a quick text, “it’s done.”

Rain was a twisted individual. Murder and mayhem became a regular thing in her life. Some people couldn’t wait until Sunday to watch their favorite show, not Rain. She couldn’t wait until she could kill again or cause some kind of mass hysteria. Though she hadn’t always been this way. It all started when she met Erik Stevens. He was deranged and handsome. A lethal combination. Everyone had known of Erik’s attempt to take over Wakanda. He was killed or so the world thought. His cousin saved his life and rehabilitated him. It was Rain’s job to provide him with therapy. 

Avatar

Murder For Love

A/N: I have no idea why this idea came to me. I hope you enjoy it. I’m trying to get better with this writing. I also can’t write smut to save my life, ima do better.

Warnings: Cursing, blood, murder, guns

Erik x Reader

Word Count: 1, 138/ 4 minute read

You were sleeping, like dead to the world type of knocked out. Aliens could’ve invaded your city and you wouldn’t have noticed. You rollover wanting to snuggle with Erik but his side of the bed was cold.

You lift your head and look around the bedroom as if he could still be in there. He wasn’t. Erik was gone and only Bast knew where.

Your head flopped back down to the pillows, you were too tired to keep it up. You were sure you’d just drift off to sleep until you heard this noise, then you got a text.

Basement. Now.

Avatar

Untitled

AN: Uhh, this was written out of bordem. I haven’t been able to think of anything else to write for my other stories. I doubt if I complete this but it was fun to get this idea out of my head. I hope you enjoy reading this. 

Warnings: None

Words: 1157

“Take you in back of the buildings, make you expose your rage. Take you across the tracks, make you explode a face. Now you official now, but you got a soul to save.” -Nipsey Hussle

PREFACE

Rain laughed maniacally and then pulled the trigger. The shot bouncing off the walls off the small apartment. She gave a smile of satisfaction. Turning to exit, “Clean it up” she ordered the man standing around. Immediately they moved to dispose of the body. Rain, with a swagger in her walk, made her exit out of the small apartment. Unlocking her phone she typed a quick text, “it’s done.”

Rain was a twisted individual. Murder and mayhem became a regular thing in her life. Some people couldn’t wait until Sunday to watch their favorite show, not Rain. She couldn’t wait until she could kill again or cause some kind of mass hysteria. Though she hadn’t always been this way. It all started when she met Erik Stevens. He was deranged and handsome. A lethal combination. Everyone had known of Erik’s attempt to take over Wakanda. He was killed or so the world thought. His cousin saved his life and rehabilitated him. It was Rain’s job to provide him with therapy. 

Avatar

Murder For Love

A/N: I have no idea why this idea came to me. I hope you enjoy it. I’m trying to get better with this writing. I also can’t write smut to save my life, ima do better.

Warnings: Cursing, blood, murder, guns

Erik x Reader

Word Count: 1, 138/ 4 minute read

You were sleeping, like dead to the world type of knocked out. Aliens could’ve invaded your city and you wouldn’t have noticed. You rollover wanting to snuggle with Erik but his side of the bed was cold.

You lift your head and look around the bedroom as if he could still be in there. He wasn’t. Erik was gone and only Bast knew where.

Your head flopped back down to the pillows, you were too tired to keep it up. You were sure you’d just drift off to sleep until you heard this noise, then you got a text.

Basement. Now.

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