#sistah d

[c00kietin]

I'm going to apologise in advance, I may be more annoying than usual tomorrow about my birthday. I'm just. excited since my week has been fairly boring :')

[omegaremix]

Omega Radio for July 20, 2019; #201.

Public Enemy “Tie Goes To The Runner”

Public Enemy “Don’t Believe The Hype”

Public Enemy “Can’t Truss It”

Public Enemy “Black Steel In The First World”

Sister Souljah “The Final Solution: Slavery’s Back In Effect”

Public Enemy “Get Off My Back”

Public Enemy “Brothers Gonna’ Work It Out”

Public Enemy “Give It Up”

Public Enemy “Public Enemy #1″

Terminator X “Buck Whylin’”

Public Enemy “911 Is A Joke”

Public Enemy “Burn Hollywood Burn” (ft. Big Daddy Kane & Ice Cube)

Public Enemy “Fear Of A Black Planet”

Public Enemy “Shut ‘Em Down”

Professor Griff “It’s A Rap Thing”

Public Enemy “Yo! Bum Rush The Show”

Public Enemy “Swindler’s Lust”

Public Enemy “Welcome To The Terrordome”

Public Enemy “Death Of A Carjacka’“

Public Enemy “White Heaven / Black Hell”

Professor Griff “Rap Terrorist”

Public Enemy “You’re Gonna’ Get Yours”

Public Enemy “Air Hoodlum”

Public Enemy “Power To The People”

Terminator X “Back To The Scene Of The Bass”

Public Enemy “Can’t Do Nuthin’ For Ya’ Man”

Public Enemy “Cold Lampin’ With Flava’”

Public Enemy “Hitler Day”

Public Enemy “Rebel Without A Pause”

Sister Souljah “The Hate That Hate Produced”

Public Enemy “Do You Wanna’ Go Our Way?”

Public Enemy “Terminator X To The Edge Of Panic”

Sister Souljah “Killing Me Softly: Deadly Code Of Silence” (ft. Ice Cube)

Public Enemy “By The Time I Get To Arizona”

Public Enemy “Fight The Power”

Public Enemy “Bring The Noize (ft. Anthrax)

Public Enemy “He Got Game”

Public Enemy “Hazy Shade Of Criminal”

Public Enemy tribute broadcast.

[vandelapristine]

TW: ⚠️little blood, injury⚠️

(I didn't mean to make the wound look THAT deep, but I'm not a professional artist 😭)

Here's an art of Dr. White and White together(in fact, I call them White siblings [workshopping])

White just got slight injury from falling that she called Dr. White for some medic(cause Dr. White is the backup doctor in case Tan gets in a situation)

But Dr. White was already so stressed, and he did not sleep last night because of ✨OVERTHINKING✨ but of course, Dr. White had to treat White, cause she's his only family left, and he's worried for her :)

So yeah :D

And here's the original :>

Once again, the Facebook user wasn't the artist 😭

And so, Dr. White told White not to do that weird sheesh again before she left the medic room(in that case, MedBay)

This is an AU from Rodamrix, a story called Generation AU, where Dr. White is nothing but a good character, not a monster or a villain :D

It's not only about Dr. White and White, it's also about every character in the story, even OCs(yes there are OCs)

Especially Brown and Green :D

[widefuturesss]

Idk you irl but something about me does, ikyk what i mean! I forreal love you sweet sistah <3 ty for existing!!

For the longest time growing up, I used to pray for my non existence. I wished I was neva known sis... Nawa o, right now I’m blooming into my most wildest dreams, spirits dey all around me and I’m honoring the light of my soul. Dey say we share energy with the earth, they say that the same forces in the moon and sun radiate thru our bodies and form parts of our souls. Chai, I give thanks I give thanks, I give thanks that we share the same light - I give thanks dat the forces of our connectedness grows/flows beyond d supremacy. I love you tooo, the imagination and hope of our sistahood a radical testament to ancient becoming. Ameen!!!!!!

[lebaronlordking]

Saturday Afternoon Reggae Show DJ LeBaron Lord King September 28, 2024 lebaron@kpoo.com

SaturdayAfternoonReggaeShow

4:00 PM The Wailers - Time Will Tell 4:03 PM Jimmy Cliff - Many Rivers to Cross 4:06 PM Desmond Dekker - Israelites 4:09 PM Maytals - Pressure Drop 4:11 PM Upper Cut Band - Bear Jah Fruit 4:16 PM Calligraphy - Culture Is Not Your Friend 4:21 PM Capleton - Gone Up 4:25 PM Alborosie - Natural Mystic 4:29 PM Musical Youth - Pass the Dutchie 4:32 PM Burning Spear - Hail H.I.M 4:36 PM Peter Tosh - Get Up, Stand Up 4:39 PM Sistah Jahia - Empress on the Rise 4:44 PM Beenie Man - Girls Dem Sugar 4:48 PM Eek-A-Mouse - Police in Helicopter 4:51 PM Sampa the Great - Energy 4:56 PM Gyptian - Hold You [Hold Yuh] 4:59 PM Samory I - Rasta Nuh Gangsta 5:03 PM Damian Marley - Welcome to Jamrock 5:08 PM Leroy Sibles - Jah Far I 5:14 PM Capleton - These Streets Know My Name 5:23 PM Nas & Damian Marley - As We Enter 5:25 PM The Wailers - I Shot The Sheriff 5:30 PM Inna de Yard - Baltimore 5:35 PM Lila Iké - Dinero 5:38 PM Protoje - Late at Night 5:42 PM YG Marley - Survival 5:46 PM Eesah - Hold A Vibe 5:49 PM Steel Pulse - Your House 5:53 PM Biblical - Inna d Ites 5:58 PM Lutan Fayah - Rockstone 6:01 PM Stephen Marley - Hey Baby 6:06 PM Love Joys - All I Can Say 6:16 PM Ranking Dread - Fattie Boom Boom 6:20 PM Junior Kelly - Protection 6:24 PM Spectacular - Jah Rise 6:27 PM Jemere Morgan - Try Jah Love 6:28 PM Sylford Walker - Chant Down Babylon 6:31 PM Barrington Levy - Black Roses 6:34 PM Rita Marley - My Kind Of War 6:40 PM Stoneface Priest - After Pride Comes Fall 6:43 PM Blanca - Worthy 6:49 PM Jalifa - Kannabrain 6:52 PM R Zee Jackson - Keep on Pushing Rastaman 6:55 PM Wicked Dub Division - Not in My Name

[brooklynislandgirl]

Which of her many relations would Beth most like Ron to meet?

Asks Open Forever {{tagging @morgansmornings and @big-d-little-i-big-n-little-ozzo for reasons:tm:}} A twenty minute drive, give or take, is eschewed in favour of a leisurely late afternoon-early evening walk for those three and some miles back to Cedra Court from Vallance Road. The late spring weather is mild, free of rain, and there's a gentle breeze in the canopy of newly leafed treetops lining the sidewalks they amble along. For all that Claude could strain his broad shoulders and barrel chest, half dragging Ron in his wake, the giant black Cane Corso prefers the more sedate pace. Focused, alert, and a little less interested in the smells that seem to draw Topper's nose. Beth's hands are equally occupied with much more sedate friends; Mo is graceful and Noe ~their smallest, and the one gifted to her by Ron himself~ is simply content to be included. A good five or ten minutes flows by with companionable silence; little noises or tugs on leashes to communicate with a portion of the pack surrounding them, the sound of the occasional traffic be it automobile or pedestrian, greetings murmured in passing which Beth had come to realise a year or two ago was a distinctly American trait. Too friendly, Reg called it. With the implication of nosy, of being a bee in everyone's garden. Normally Beth might be a brook of chatter, words spilling out over the banks of her lips, filtered over teeth and tongue to be as crystalline as their mixed slang can be to them. She'd have questions about the things she's learned, the customs observed, and she might, in a rare moment of particular joy or vulnerability, dislodge a similar experience or tid-bit about her own family. A glimpse of a life she hardly bothers to talk about. Best put though, it seems some of the Ink that Ron vigilantly guards against has splashed up on tawny skin. Muddied her thoughts and put clouds in her internal sky, and her silence comes away with a hint of trouble she has no defense against. The only good part about all that is that Ron seems to understand the source of her mood. He doesn't need to ask what in particular his mother had said. What particular piece of wit from his brother is taken like something she'd need scrape off her shoe. Why Frances eats into her like a worm does a ripening apple. His armour is often thicker than her own in different ways. So instead, after a time, he makes that rumbling little beckon in the back of his throat,herald to something he'd like to say, and when he's certain she's paused and her eyes linger on his mouth, he asks her gently about her own clan and kin. Beth has never felt quite so bankrupt in the history of her existence. Takes at least two more drag-heel blocks to even pry loose her voice. "I s'spose firs' an' foremos' I'd like ya t' get t' know my hanai-sistah. Like some of ya aunties, we're not blood-blood, but could be. I was her roommate durin' University, start a year before she did. Been bes' good friends evah since. She date Andy briefly, but it became kinda obvious dat dey were too same-same for it to work out, an' he became jus' as ovahprotective of her as he was wi' me. She's supah smart, she funny, an' she bakes like no one's business. She's also my lawyer even dough she gave up practising for da most part. Keeps her license wi' da Bar current jus' for me. I love her." Talk of Jay does brighten her up and puts a soft smile on her face. "Den dere's my cousin Tony. Funny enough, if we nevah were anyt'ing more dan friends, he'd be da one I try f' introduce you. He smells nice, dresses well, is smart an' is funny, great hair, amazin' cook, writes his own songs, play piano, I mean I could go on f' days but really he has da worst luck wi' guys. Mebbe because he's sorta like a Military Cop...but not like in da Military, but a separate department of investigation. He also has an attachment t' his boss even if da man is horrifically toxic to Tony. An' tru'd be told? I t'ink its because he had an off relationship wi' his dad, too. Guess dat runs in da family."

She catches the corner of her lip between her teeth and worries it as she often does. "An' lastly, my Auntie Aishling an' her wife Siobhan. She's fiery, Irish as can be, an' I suppose you could call her da current matriarch of da clan, much t' da Admiral's knicker-twist. She is also a peer, so I dunno if you wanna boddah wi' all da fancy formality of one of her social get togeddahs. Of course, I could arrange for us t' have a private dinner wi' her. We could fly an' get picked up Belfast Airport, or we could drive an' take da ferry..." She glances up to try to gauge his feelings about that.

[blackfilmshowdown]

New Film Submissions

The Cookout (2004) dir. Lance Rivera College basketball player Todd Anderson (Storm P) signs a $30 million deal with the New Jersey Nets and promptly moves to a wealthy suburb. His mother (Jenifer Lewis), however, insists that Todd remain connected to his humbler roots. So Todd decides to hold a good old-fashioned cookout at his new mansion. But this turns out to be more difficult than he expected, and his old friends and relatives clash with the sophisticated characters that have recently come into his life. Black Dynamite (2009) dir. Scott Sanders After "The Man" kills his brother and poisons the neighborhood with tainted liquor, a kung fu fighter (Michael Jai White) wages a war that takes him all the way to Nixon's White House. Undercover Brother (2002) dir. Malcolm D. Lee Blasted from the past and ready to take care of business, "Undercover Brother" is recruited to infiltrate a sinister underground movement headed by The Man. Partnered with the sassy, stunning Sistah Girl (Aunjanue Ellis), our hero must first undergo the ultimate attitude adjustment and trade in his 'fro and platforms for tennis sweaters and penny loafers. Once the transformation is complete, he's ready to take on the evil perpetrators of Operation Whitewash

[aias-fxtns]

AHH! Finally I got a chance to read this! I've been busy this past few weeks and thank the gods I have free time today😭. This is so good, I need more but I know open ending is quite the deal to avoid angsty ending🙌🩷.

THERE WAS A prickling sensation on the back of your neck, as if someone was watching you. It had been a constant sensation since a couple of days ago, one that you couldn’t shake even when alone in your quarters.

I FEEL LIKE SOMEBODY'S WATCHING ME!!~

“What in the Seven Hells are you doing?” The presence asked, sounding slightly amused. You turned, eager to meet your stalker. He was a fairly muscled man, though not overly so, with the built of a warrior. His hair was the silver color you had come to associate with Targaryens, a trait much rarer here than in your natal kingdom. There was a sword on his belt.

They finally met, I bet the obsession become worse after this interaction. I would love to deep dive into their minds as the obsession progress. I just want to see how insane this two could be, like how can they be a menace to society, LMAO.

“He represents one of my enemies.” 

ATE🙌

The man’s expression turned colder. He grabbed a lock of your hair, idly twirling it between his fingers in what was a clear attempt at intimidating you. 

Obsessed much?

“Oh, but you do.” You smirked. “Or can you do this?” You reached into the flames, recovering the metal rod you had used to kill the leech. Your hand didn’t blister. Fire was not dangerous to you, your control over it too great. You offered it to him, still flaming hot.

Ladies and gentlemen, HER.

Suddenly, he tugged you towards him. Curious about his intentions, you allowed it. It had been a long time since you had been touched with such yearning. It felt as if he wanted to know you by touch and taste alone, unravel all your secrets. And you wanted to let him. 

Just say this man,

Instead, Daemon reached for your hand, his expression one of complete wonder. He ran his fingers over your knuckles, as if checking for himself that you were not tricking him. Your skin remained smooth and pleasantly warm under his exploring hand. 

AMEN!!!!

Slowly, meeting your eyes, purple against your warm brown, he leant in and kissed you. His mouth caught yours, an instant of absolute violence and sweetness. There was no softness in it. Daemon kissed to conquer, to own. And it was why you had to break it, with the certainty that if you allowed it to go any further, desire would consume you both. 

AHHHHHHHH!!! I FORGOT HOW TO BREATHE FOR A MINUTE THERE....

“Men never do.” 

WHO IS THIS DIVA??

“I cannot risk it. The fates of our entire world, for a moment of fleeting pleasure?” You untangle yourself from him. “I am sorry, Daemon. I cannot risk it.” 

NO! MISS MÆM, NO! STOP, NO!!!! SOMEONE HOLD HER! ANYONE!?

If someone had asked him before if he thought there was a place where he belonged, he would have said Valyria. If someone asked him now… Daemon only wanted to be yours. And he hated the fact that he could not be. 

AMEN TO THAT SISTAH!!!

“Renounce your vows. Or don’t. I’ll convert. Believe in your vision, or don’t. I fear you might have changed it already, with how much I wish to be yours and only yours.” The words just keep coming, and you look horrified at the blasphemy he is spouting. Daemon knows he cannot convince you of anything if you get too incensed and burn him to a crisp.  He raises his palms placatingly. “If your god deals in absolutes, it might have come to pass, and we might have only a short while together. If he doesn’t, perhaps a child of ours will marry a child of hers."

If someone said this to me I'll be carrying them to the church/court just to get married d-day. Seriously though, where do I find this kind of men??? I would like to purchase one.

“Then teach this poor sinner how to be properly devoted.” Daemon pulls you to him, and hugs you tightly. He has never in his life begged for anything, but for you, he is willing to try. “Let me be yours. Keep the vows, or don’t. Do as you please. I’ll be your husband, your lover, your whore. Anything. As long as I am yours.” 

AHHHHH, I WANT HIM! SOMEONE GIVE ME A THE LINK OF WHERE I COULD BUY THIS MAN. I WANT MY MAN OBSESSED☝️ I WANT TO BE HIS RELIGION.

Good bye to you our diva (red priestess! reader) you'll be missed:(

HER:

Valar Dohaeris (Daemon Targaryen x Reader) 

Warnings: Mature language. Sexual thoughts. Witch reader doing spooky, witch things.

A/N: And it’s wrapped up! Huge thanks to @just-some-random-blogger and @aias-fxtns for sticking with me and cheering me on to finish this. For anyone new, you can read the first part here!

THERE WAS A prickling sensation on the back of your neck, as if someone was watching you. It had been a constant sensation since a couple of days ago, one that you couldn’t shake even when alone in your quarters. 

You had looked into the flames to know who it was, but the Lord of Light kept the mystery concealed from you. The only comfort you had was that the person couldn’t have ill intent. When such things had happened to you in the past, you were always warned of the imminent danger. Hence, if there was no warning, there was no danger. 

You continued with your days as normal. As a worshiper of the Red God, you had never slept much, forced to keep vigil over the precious light you were afforded when the night fell. The stalking didn’t mean any changes in your routine, beyond mild annoyance at your lack of privacy.

Despite being powerful enough to feel the presence chasing you around, and strong enough to vanish it too with a few well-placed flames or complaints to the King, you found yourself hesitating. What if the person was tailing you because they were curious about your god? With your abysmal failure at converting anyone yet, you felt like you couldn’t turn them away.

Much to your dismay, the moon in King Viserys’ court had taught you one thing about yourself: You were terrible at preaching and convincing people. While your display of magic interested the King and his heir, their curiosity seemed purely centered in how it related to their Valyrian practices. Any muttered enchantment in High Valyrian was to them an example their gods were lending you power, and not R'hllor. No matter how many times you told them you used it because you were essoii, they refused to believe it. 

Pondering over your troubles as you partook in some recreational cursing, involving a live leech that you had fed Hightower blood, you were so focused, you didn't hear the door to your workroom open. Nor did you felt anything abnormal, recognizing the presence that followed you everywhere. You simply continued building your small pyre, feeling like these things required a more personal touch than just magicking it into existence. 

Besides, King Viserys had been explicit. You were not allowed bonfires inside, no matter how small you made them. 

“What in the Seven Hells are you doing?” The presence asked, sounding slightly amused. You turned, eager to meet your stalker. He was a fairly muscled man, though not overly so, with the built of a warrior. His hair was the silver color you had come to associate with Targaryens, a trait much rarer here than in your natal kingdom. There was a sword on his belt. 

His face, twisted into a mischievous smile, seemed oddly familiar. You had seen him before, but you did not know where. 

“Praying.” You answered, simply. The leech caught in your grasp squirmed, and you studied it with a detached expression. Should you skewer it and cause the man terrible stomach pains? Or boil it to give him a fever? You weren’t intending to kill, only to severely maim, so throwing it into the pyre was out of the question. 

“By holding a leech?” The man pressed closer, invading your personal space. You gave him a slow, bloodthirsty smile. Less he became too familiar. 

“He represents one of my enemies.” 

The man’s expression turned colder. He grabbed a lock of your hair, idly twirling it between his fingers in what was a clear attempt at intimidating you. 

“And what enemies does a pretty thing like you have? Shouldn’t you be whispering into the King’s ears? Warming his bed?”  

Ah, you thought, finally realizing who might this be and why he had been stalking you. Daemon Targaryen. Viserys’ fiercest protector. The Rogue Prince himself, of whom you had heard so much about. 

“I do not bed your brother, no.” You carefully placed a metal stake in the pyre, settling for skewering the leech. “And to answer your question, there are some ardent believers in the false idols in high positions here. I am simply ridding the realm of them.” 

“I do not bed your brother, my prince.” He corrected, his smile getting more vicious. You knew he understood exactly whom you were referring to. Despite your shared dislike for Otto Hightower, you did not like his tone. 

“Fire burns us all.” You impaled the leech, watching it squirm in the flames. “Even princes.” 

“Dragons do not burn.” Daemon said, with a stubborn tilt of his mouth. 

“Oh, but you do.” You smirked. “Or can you do this?” You reached into the flames, recovering the metal rod you had used to kill the leech. Your hand didn’t blister. Fire was not dangerous to you, your control over it too great. You offered it to him, still flaming hot. 

He didn’t take it. He knew that regardless of what House Targaryen claimed, none of them were truly fireproof. Not like you were. Not like she would be. 

Instead, Daemon reached for your hand, his expression one of complete wonder. He ran his fingers over your knuckles, as if checking for himself that you were not tricking him. Your skin remained smooth and pleasantly warm under his exploring hand. 

He stepped closer. His pupils were blown, mouth parted in half surprise, half desire. His thumb brushed over the inside of your wrist, and towards the inner side of your arm. His nails, short and well taken care of, scratched pleasantly against your forearm.

Suddenly, he tugged you towards him. Curious about his intentions, you allowed it. It had been a long time since you had been touched with such yearning. It felt as if he wanted to know you by touch and taste alone, unravel all your secrets. And you wanted to let him. 

“Enchantress.” He muttered, under his breath. “Sorceress.” 

“Priestess.” You corrected, looking at him from below your eyelashes.  

Slowly, meeting your eyes, purple against your warm brown, he leant in and kissed you. His mouth caught yours, an instant of absolute violence and sweetness. There was no softness in it. Daemon kissed to conquer, to own. And it was why you had to break it, with the certainty that if you allowed it to go any further, desire would consume you both. 

Red Priestesses weren’t sworn to celibacy. But you couldn’t be with this man, used to possessing, to owning. You had a destiny already, and it wasn’t paramour or wife. And he had his, too. You finally remembered where you had seen him. In your dreams, his blood mixed with the one in your silver Queen. 

“Did you need something?” You asked, tone very casual. He frowned, looking perplexed. You would be, too, if you were him. After such a delicious kiss, rejection would confuse you too. 

“Walk with me.” He pressed, grabbing your elbow. “I can show you the most pleasant areas in the Red Keep.” 

“Of that, I am sure. But I have no time for pleasure.” And you grabbed another leech, turning your back to him. This time, you threw it into the fire without intention, just because you could. 

“I WOULD LIKE to go for a walk with you, priestess.” Daemon says, for what feels like the twelfth time this week alone. As always, you barely lift your eyes from the red tome you are reading. Preparing to entertain Rhaenyra, no doubt. His niece has begun to monopolize far too much of your time for Daemon’s liking. 

Not that Daemon blames her. You are exquisite, and Rhaneyra has always had excellent taste.

“Hm.” You reply, making some notes on a spare parchment. Your penmanship is common, letters more similar to those merchants’ use than the beautiful handwriting most ladies have. Yet, even though it highlights your less than noble origins, Daemon finds it much better than what westerosi women manage to produce. For your writings have a redeemable trait: You write exclusively in High Valyrian. 

“Perhaps, if not a walk, you would like to sup with me?” Daemon tempts you. You have been sitting here for what feels like hours. Perhaps the prospect of food might be more amiable to you. 

“I can't.” You chew on your quill, expression torn. Daemon wonders if you still think he suspects you of being a cunning little witch. Which you are, but he has left behind his worry because you are wholly unprepared to seduce Viserys or Rhaenyra into your way of thinking. 

Whatever they taught you in those Red Temples didn’t prepare you for House Targaryen. Not even close. Viserys listened to your advice before discarding it because, well, he just wasn’t interested in ruling beyond keeping the peace. Your suggestions were too bold to follow them without angering the Faith. 

And Rhaenyra, Rhaenyra had always been capricious. You didn’t realize it, but she was using you to get back at the Hightower whore for attempting to seduce her father. She wasn’t truly interested in your theories about magic and gods. 

“I am not attempting to trick you.” He gently places his hand on your arm, trying to get your attention away from that blasted book. Your skin is soft and smooth to the touch, and Daemon cannot help but wonder how good it will feel against his. 

There has never been a woman who said no to him. That you do so, even when you had trembled with desire when he kissed you, intrigues him. And that you deny him each time you are faced with temptation only makes him want to have you further. 

“I know.” You smile, in that eerie way that tells Daemon that you know because you have seen it, and not just because you trust him. “I still cannot betray my vows.” 

“Red Priestesses make no vow of celibacy.” Daemon says, puzzled. 

“That isn’t the vow I speak of.” And when Daemon asks for clarifications, you simply laugh and claim to be too busy to enlighten him. No matter how much Daemon tries to understand, he doesn’t. 

Hence, the need to come to ask you. This time, he is smarter about it. He comes bearing a gift. A costly one, in which Daemon had splurged. The damn thing is uncannily smart, studying him with huge purple eyes. A fitting gift for an eerie woman. 

“Daemon?” As always, your inquiring tone is more of a courtesy than a real doubt. You probably saw his visit on the torches or something. Was it even worth it preparing a surprise, or would you already know? His question is soon answered when you set down the grinding stone you are using to prepare some sort of red concoction, and mutter. “I am not even from that part of Essos.”

“At least it is cute?” Daemon presents the cage with the little valyrian. The creature gives him a side eyed look, as if judging him. 

“She is adorable.” You agree, opening up the cage without a care in the world. 

“I wouldn’t do that if I were you.” Daemon had nearly lost a finger to the vicious maws of the damn thing. Turns out, he has little reason to worry. The damn creature climbs on your shoulder and settles there as if she belongs, chittering to herself. “How did you..?”

“She, too, doesn’t belong in a cage. She cannot be owned.” You explain, as if it were the simplest thing in the world. Somehow, Daemon feels like you are not simply talking about the little valyrian. 

“I don’t understand.” He says, swallowing his pride. You turn to look at him, and smile. 

“Men never do.” 

“I ONLY WEAR red.” You say, setting down the parcel in front of Daemon. He is sharpening his sword in the courtyard, the metal shining brightly on the sunlight, making you think of him once again. Azor Ahai and his flaming sword. 

The silks are the most expensive garbs you have ever owned. They had felt so smooth against your skin, cold and soft. But they didn’t belong in the wardrobe of a red priestess. They belonged in some stuffy lady’s trousseau. Perhaps, in a princess’.

You had seen a similar thing in your flames, after all. A thousand beautiful trinkets laid at the feet of your silver princess.

“I do not understand you.” Daemon sets down his sword, but doesn’t take the parcel back. He ignores your extended hands. “Your body yearns for mine, like fire yearns for logs, like men yearn for sustenance.” 

You snort. 

“A bit presumptuous, aren’t we?”

Daemon springs up to his feet, stepping into your personal space. The parcel, containing the beautiful silks, falls forgotten to the ground. 

“I only speak as I see it.” He cups your face in his hands, softly. The tenderness in his grip makes you close your eyes. “The kiss we shared… You felt it too. There is an inferno between the two of us. And Seven Hells…” He leans in, until his lips are merely a breath away from you. “I want to burn.” 

Burn. Burn, like the flames you use to watch the future. The reminder of everything that is at stake makes you jump in your haste to get away from him. 

Daemon doesn’t get angry. Instead, he gives you a long look. 

“I know you desire me. I can tell. Your face is warm, your pupils are blown… Your body betrays you when your mouth refuses to speak. So what is the problem?” 

“You are not for me.” You are too scared to say it plainly. Admitting out loud the two of you can never be together is akin to burying your relationship. Hence, the puzzles and mysteries. 

“Not for you?” Daemon frowns slightly, before he realizes your meaning and his expression turns into a full-blown frown. “You mean, you saw some shit in those flames of yours?” 

“Excuse me?” The rage you feel at him daring to question your visions makes you forget your previous thoughts about keeping your distance, getting in his face.  “How dare you…?” 

Daemon grasps a hand you hadn’t even realized you were using to gesture aggressively in his direction, shushing you. 

“Let us say I believe in your Red God.” He tugs you towards him, letting you collide against his chest. The feeling of him, so firm, so solid against you, is heavenly. You close your eyes, unable to help it. He smells of fire and sweat and something so utterly him it makes you begin to daydream about what it would be like if you could be his. It’s the sweetest of all agonies. “You saw me with someone else?” 

The words hit you like a bucket of cold water. Someone else. Someone he belongs to, someone whose line will bring the Prince that was promised, to save you from the long night. 

You should focus. This is your reality. You are nothing but a voice for R'hllor, you are not meant to want anything else but to spread his word and message. You are not some princess from a fairytale, who will get the handsome knight in the end. 

Yet, it aches. It stings, it hurts. It’s a death from a thousand cuts. All your life, you have dedicated yourself to the cause, and when there is a single thing you want for yourself, you are not allowed to have it. 

“I did. You belong to another woman.” You say, even when it hurts you to do so. R'hllor gives his strongest warriors the worst battles, you try to remember yourself. 

“I do not want that other woman.” Daemon grasps your face between his hands, forcing you to meet his eyes. He presses his forehead against yours. “I want you.” 

“From her line and your line shall come Azor Ahai.” You whisper, trying to get him to understand even when your own heart is breaking. “The prince that was promised. To fight the darkness, the cold, the terrors. I cannot…” 

Instead of scoffing at your beliefs, like he had done before, Daemon sighs. He closes his eyes, before opening them again. 

“These futures you see… They can’t be changed?” 

“I cannot risk it. The fates of our entire world, for a moment of fleeting pleasure?” You untangle yourself from him. “I am sorry, Daemon. I cannot risk it.” 

DAEMON HAD SPENT the whole week thinking about it. Seeing you walk around court, a whisper of red skirts and red curls tumbling down your back, made his heart ache. 

He had never wanted to belong anywhere. He was a Prince of House Targaryen, closer to gods than men. There was no point in attempting to conform or to tie himself down somewhere. 

If someone had asked him before if he thought there was a place where he belonged, he would have said Valyria. If someone asked him now… Daemon only wanted to be yours. And he hated the fact that he could not be. 

He had spent his evenings pouring over all the Red Keep’s library had to offer on prophecies, and then some. It had been a fruitless endeavor. There was little to be learned about prophecies and a lot to be learned about them. His knowledge of dragon dreams alone told him that. They were capricious things, more likely to come true in unexpected ways than to actually make any sense. 

It was why he had always distrusted dreams. It was why he was willing to risk it and be with you. If one tried to avoid the prophecy, it might come true regardless. Or it could seem straightforward, but one could be interpreting it wrong, and just when you thought it meant one thing, it meant another one. 

He wasn’t about to claim to be an expert on how Red Witches worked, but he didn’t care. Even if it doomed the whole world, Daemon wanted to be with you. It was why he had come to seek you out once more. 

You were looking lovelier than ever, seated upon a windowsill watching dawn come. The sunlight played against your features, making it seem as if you were a being of pure light, coming together slowly as the dawn broke. 

You didn’t turn to look at him, but you moved slightly aside, making space for him to sit next to you. Daemon didn’t know how you did it, but you had an eerie sense to know when someone approached you. He hoped that someday you would explain to him how the trick worked. 

He sat next to you, in silence. He grasped your hand in his before he even attempted to speak. You were warm and soft, as you always were. 

“I know not of prophecies.” Daemon began, voice pitched low. For your ears only, less someone else overheard and took him for a sentimental fool. He was one, but only for you. There was no point in ruining his reputation before the entire court. “But I know my heart. I want to belong to you, Priestess. As long as you will have me.” 

“I cannot have…” You begin, and Daemon isn’t about to let you ruin it. 

“Renounce your vows. Or don’t. I’ll convert. Believe in your vision, or don’t. I fear you might have changed it already, with how much I wish to be yours and only yours.” The words just keep coming, and you look horrified at the blasphemy he is spouting. Daemon knows he cannot convince you of anything if you get too incensed and burn him to a crisp.  He raises his palms placatingly. “If your god deals in absolutes, it might have come to pass, and we might have only a short while together. If he doesn’t, perhaps a child of ours will marry a child of hers."

“Are you trying to lecture me on how I should interpret my own visions?” You arch an eyebrow, the very picture of disbelief. Has he gone too far? 

“I would never. I only mean to say…” 

“What if the world implodes? What if the Long Night comes and no one is there to save us from the darkness?” 

“Then I will make the damn child if the future is fixed so. Have a little faith in your god. If this Azor Ahai has to be here, he will be here. Through whatever means it takes him.” 

“That’s not how this works!” You say, outraged. Your cute little face scrunches up in fury, and Daemon thinks he has never met anyone as irresistible as you are. 

“Then teach this poor sinner how to be properly devoted.” Daemon pulls you to him, and hugs you tightly. He has never in his life begged for anything, but for you, he is willing to try. “Let me be yours. Keep the vows, or don’t. Do as you please. I’ll be your husband, your lover, your whore. Anything. As long as I am yours.” 

And thankfully, you save him from further embarrassment. Just as the sun rises fully into the sky, you turn to him and quiet him with a kiss. 

[pashterlengkap]

California lesbian power couple Peggy Moore & Hope Wood dies in tragic car crash

Peggy Moore and Hope Wood, two political activists based in Northern California, died in a car crash on May 10. Moore was 60 and Wood 48. The collision took place on California Highway 76 in unincorporated San Diego County when the Jeep Gladiator they were traveling in hit a Chrysler sedan, according to The Bay Area Reporter. The drivers of the Chrysler and Jeep both died as well. The only survivor of the crash was Wood’s aunt, who was seriously injured. Related Four LGBTQ+ bars targeted in mysterious drive-by shootings At least three people were shot, and one was hospitalized. The two got married at Lake Merritt in Oakland, California on July 29, 2013, after Proposition 8 – which a banned marriage equality – was struck down. They met while campaigning for former President Barack Obama in 2008. Stay connected to your community Connect with the issues and events that impact your community at home and beyond by subscribing to our newsletter. Subscribe to our Newsletter today Together, the couple founded Hope Action Change, a consulting firm focusing on developing diversity in leadership across organizations and companies, which they describe as “leadership grounded in love” on their website. “We have lived outside the main streets of society in the intersections of our gender and our race, and we have learned to navigate a path through many streets where we have not been welcome. Despite the difficulties of this journey, we are full of optimism for where our path leads. We founded HAC to help other change leaders build and hold the wisdom & strength to fulfill their optimism for the future,” the website continues. Moore was a campaign manager for former Oakland Mayor Libby Schaaf (D), and after her election, she served as her senior advisor in 2014. Moore ran for a seat on the Oakland City Council but lost to an incumbent in 2016. She was a general consultant for Diana Betcon’s winning campaign for district attorney in Northern California’s Contra Costa County. Alongside her political work, she co-founded Sistahs Steppin’ in Pride, which was a queer women’s event held in the east San Francisco Bay Area during the early 2000s. Schaaf remembered Moore fondly. In an interview with The Bay Area Reporter, she said that Moore “molded me into the mayor I became — in the most beautiful ways our democracy needs more of..she was centered in love.” Wood worked as a political organizer in California and nationwide for the last 20 years. She was also a former teaching fellow for Harvard Kennedy School’s Leadership Organizing, Action: Leading Change course. On X (formerly Twitter), Rep. Barbara Lee (D-CA) said, “Peggy Moore & Hope Wood were remarkable women who dedicated their lives to equality & justice. Their values brought them together & are the legacy they leave behind. Their family & friends are hurting, but we must remember we are all connected through the work they did every day.” http://dlvr.it/T7R4mq

[azuisreading]

Sistah Samurai by Tatiana Obey

This is no revenge story. I ain’t got time for that. I’ve got errands to run and things to do and barely enough time to make it home before sundown. I don’t care why folks are going around stealing ink. I don’t care why the monks are acting kinda strange. I don’t care that everybody is expecting me to save them. I might be a Sistah Samurai but those days playing hero were back when my knees didn’t ache, and I wasn’t the only one left. So leave me alone. All I want to do is get home, drink some green tea lemonade, and enjoy my peace. I’m not asking for much, so why are all these demons daring to get in my way? I am not the one. Not today. Sistah Samurai is an Action Fantasy novella that is an homage to the anime, Afro Samurai. Both works feature a feudal Japan-inspired setting that is rife with anachronisms. In the words of Samuel L. Jackson, “Is that a motherf—ing RPG?”

Review

Meeting Tatiana was one of the brightest things that the Universe could have done for me. After her duology, I knew I would want to read anything she writes. After coming into contact with her, I knew I would want to keep in touch for as long as possible. Even when we both knew that I wouldn't be the best reader for her new novella, she let me be part of her ARC team. And if I wasn't grateful enough then, I am now.

Sistah Samurai could be the story that changes your life.

It’s also exactly what Tatiana says it is: a love letter for her people. Yeah, it’s destined for a certain audience, and though I am not part of it, I felt the love and the embrace as if I were. So that’s not an obstacle for you to not get it. Everyone should have and everyone should read Sistah Samurai, only to feel and experience that kind of feeling.

It has a lot, and I’m not kidding when I say it. A LOT. The words are telling you a story while the background is weaving another, though both of them are related and intertwined and it would be hard to tell them apart. I loved it. I loved both, I loved the hundreds of thousands of different stories that are flowing together in this short novella.

I loved the protagonist and how she was annoyed at everything and everyone but was unable to ignore them anyway. I loved how I knew some things were about to happen and how uncertain things slapped me in the face. I had a smile even in the saddest moments and my heart was always filled with the love that was coursing through every word. I love how I couldn’t foresee things and how those things came hugging me from the back.

What I didn’t love, though, was that it finished when I wanted to continue knowing and reading more, and this is a weird part because that’s also something I love. How it got me to want to know more and read more even when the story was finished. And like I told Tatiana when I reached her to talk about this story, I also love the sense of reality that kind of ending gave me, because that’s usually how real life feels sometimes, when you don’t get to know what happens next, when that’s the end you get about another person. It grounded me. (But she knows I’m totally up if and when she wants to dive into this universe again.)

This is a story about love and that was the only emotion I felt while reading, so I recommend you that, if you are trying and looking for a story like this, you read this one.

Phrases that I liked so much that I marked them while reading

«Tamashii ink is an extraction of a person’s soul, they say. If so, the color of mine must be blackity black black black.» — Chapter 1.

«I see you looking at me. I know what you’re thinking- this girl done left her glasses at home, but she sure did remember to grab her shades. Well, yeah, ‘cause they make me look like a baaaad motherfucker. So mind ya business.» — Chapter 1.

«They called me Sistah Samurai, but in truth, I was just a tired woman tired of being tired.» — Chapter 2.

«The only difference between me and everybody else was that I’ve got a katana to help me row, but most times, it didn’t keep me moving forward none.» — Chapter 2.

«I wore a faded and lived-in black kimono while everyone else in the village had already donned their spring yukatas. The bright floral prints decorated the streets like spring shower rainbows, and I shoved through those rainbows like a thundercloud.» — Chapter 2.

«Her mouth dropped open in awe as she stared at me, as if my halo of hair marked me as some sort of goddess worthy of worship.» — Chapter 2.

«Straight lying out of his neck. I debated if I should call him out on it, which led to another uncomfortable silence. Even the little girl, who was looking between us with some confusion, blurted, “Just ask her out already.”» — Chapter 2.

«There used to be a street that led straight to my favorite restaurant, but someone had plopped a house in the middle of it and that street didn’t exist anymore. Instead, I took three right turns, passed underneath a roughshod bridge, navigated through a hybrid bakery-tailor-barbershop monstrosity mishmash to reach the plaza that had been five steps from where I started if I could walk through walls.» — Chapter 3.

«Too often, it was so easy for time to get away from me.» — Chapter 3.

«I returned to my now cold ramen. The son, at behest of the chef, brought me over a steaming bowl of ramen. Bless him.» — Chapter 4.

«Desperation made monsters of us all.» — Chapter 5.

«If the demons were ever to breach the gates while I was away, I had no doubt that this restaurant would be the only building left standing… and the inksmith’s shop. Probably. If the old man didn’t forget to activate his talismans again.» — Chapter 5.

«Let him try, but the more intention he used, the faster his ink would fade.» — Chapter 5.

«The metal melted around the fire, and I kicked the door the rest of the way open, except the blasted thing slammed against the opposite wall, and rebounded back to shut closed in my face. With a huff and roll of the eyes, I gently pushed open the door.» — Chapter 5.

«Finally. Someone around here had learned some manners. I just didn’t understand why I had to be the one dishing out the lesson. I didn’t have the time to go around educating folks. I didn’t have the time to correct every ignorant word that fell from the mouths of people who didn’t care to change. Nor should I always have to prove why my existence deserves their respect. But then… there are those days when your patience wears thin, and the cuts are too many to ignore, when you’re too tired but not tired enough, when you’ve had enough of the bullshit and the tomfoolery, and you’ve reached that magical moment when you’ve manifested the ability to make time. Someone’s got to teach these fools- Never disrespect a Black woman.» — Chapter 5.

«I should have been left the village by now, but of course I couldn’t leave well enough alone. I just had to get involved. Now look at the time.» — Chapter 6.

«I should have tried harder. I should have stayed. I know that, okay? But I can’t go around saving everybody. I’ve lived that life before. I’ve got to take care of me and mine. So leave me the fuck alone.» — Chapter 7.

«I was so tired of you annoying the shit out of me all the time. “Leave me alone,” I demanded. “But you’d be so lonely without me.” Lonely my ass. I’d rejoice the day I’m free of you.» — Chapter 7.

«I was tired of leaving behind loose ends because I didn’t have the time to tie them.» — Chapter 7.

«Of all the days for this to happen, why today? It was as if I started off on the wrong foot this morning, and I have been unable to get my groove back. No point wasting time and complaining about it, though. You’ve been complaining all day. Shut up. If you’ve got a problem with it, then you can get the fuck out of my head. No one likes a backseat driver.» — Chapter 8.

«I had been doing so well this morning blocking you out, until… […]. I guess we all have our triggers.» — Chapter 8.

«I wished I understood where they came from. The Sacred Order of Brotha Monks theorized that the demons are pulled from other worlds, embodiments of nightmares and traumas so intense they fray the line of reality and impose physical manifestations on the adjacent worlds around them. All I know is that I want all these other worlds to deal with their shit, so I don’t have to.» — Chapter 8.

«I’m still here. Fuck you. One day, I’ll figure out how to exorcise you, too. I know I failed. I know I made a mistake. I know I should have been there. I was a Captain. I should have been holding the line. The only way to cleanse that sort of shame was through hara-kiri, but I sure as fuck was not dying and giving you my soul. Are you living just to spite me? Hell fucking yes, I was.» — Chapter 8.

«Would nothing go right today?» — Chapter 10.

«But when push comes to shove… You do what you gotta do.» — Chapter 10.

«The lieutenant’s fire blasted against my summoned shield. The loser- whoever’s talisman ran out of ink first. I sure as fuck knew it wasn’t going to be me.» — Chapter 10.

«I squinted at a sudden glint of light around the warlord’s head. What was that? Okay. Fine. If I survived this, I promised to never leave the house without my glasses ever again.» — Chapter 10.

«I didn’t know if I wanted to live, or to die.» — Chapter 11.

«Who was left to scream into the void and say that we were here? To declare that we were more than the soldiers the world forced us to be. We were women, and mothers, and sisters, and cousins. We were teachers, and healers, and innovators, and warriors. And we went down fighting.» — Chapter 11.

«I thought about my Sistahs—who deserved more respect, more dignity, more love, and certainly more life than the world ever gave them.» — Chapter 11.

«It was a risky talisman, but I wouldn’t have trusted it from anyone else but her.» — Chapter 12.

«The bodyguards stumbled back and dropped their katanas. Ah. Now they were fleeing. But I was faster.» — Chapter 13.

«”Men hope while women carry the world.”» — Chapter 15.

«Why do I always have to be strong all of the god damn time?» — Chapter 16.

«”And I choose to no longer carry their deaths. Instead, I choose to carry their love.”» — Chapter 17.

«Time was cruel and it was brief. It was merciful and patient. It was fragile and easily broken. It was bright and way too fast. Cherish every god damn moment. ‘Cause spring would not last.» — Chapter 19.

«Finally, to all my fellow black girl nerds, I hope you feel seen. It’s about damn time.» — End Credits.

[widefuturesss]

my sistahs is seein me in their dreams teaching, they’re writing me poems about the light of my inner sun, they’re referencing me in school essays, they’re writing me paragraphs about d familiar unfamiliarity of my path, they’re holding space for my words on their sacred altars, they’re thanking me for my existence, saying I should keep being me, keeep bein me, I know they see the struggle but dey also see the light… I pray to bask in this light,, thank you to my sistahs for holding me, thank you for uplifting me, thank you for solidifying me in your rememory, the history we are building is divine, real real divine. Shadow work Spirit work Root work Wayward Queer Pleasures towards an other otherwiseeeeee.

[lebaronlordking]

Saturday Afternoon Reggae Show DJ LeBaron Lord King January 27, 2024 lebaron@kpoo.com kpoo.com

SaturdayAfternoonReggaeShow

4:02 PM Phillip Frazer - John Saw Them Coming 4:06 PM Leonard Dillon - One Step Forward 4:09 PM Samory I - Lost Africans 4:14 PM Ras David - Haile Selassie I Dub 4:18 PM The Revolutionaries - Jah Man Dub 4:20 PM Protoje - Late at Night 4:24 PM Skip Marley - Slow Down 4:28 PM Damian Marley - Welcome to Jamrock 4:32 PM Capleton - Heathen Reign 4:37 PM Censi Rock - War 4:40 PM Dawn Penn - You Don't Love Me (No, No, No) 4:43 PM Burning Spear - Jah Kingdom 4:47 PM Bob Marley - Concert Jungle 4:51 PM Daddy Freddy - I've Been Down These Roads Before! 4:55 PM King Kong - Wake Up the Town 4:58 PM Dezarie - Ghettos of Babylon 5:02 PM Capleton - In the Game 5:05 PM Koffee - Ye - Cover 5:09 PM Stick Figure - Old Sunrise 5:14 PM Buju Banton - These Streets Know My Name 5:19 PM Alborosie - Over My Shoulders 5:22 PM Yohan Marley - Cry for Me 5:25 PM Peter Tosh - Stop That Train 5:30 PM Capleton - Heathen Reign 5:31 PM Protoje - Weed & Ting 5:34 PM Dre Island - We Pray 5:38 PM Black Uhuru - Plastic Smile 5:46 PM Biblical - Inna d Ites 5:51 PM Matisyahu - Sunshine 5:54 PM Luciano - It's Me Again Jah 6:00 PM Ini Kamoze - Trouble You a Trouble Me 6:06 PM Sister Nancy - Bam Bam 6:09 PM ILah Medz - Bum de Beast 6:12 PM Arise Roots - Rootsman Town 6:16 PM Damian Marley - Autumn Leaves 6:23 PM Estonian Singers - Tonite 6:27 PM Lila Iké - Where I'm Coming From 6:31 PM Unlimited Culture - Bayerman Style 6:35 PM Samory I - Son of David 6:39 PM Sistah Jahia - Chant a Pray 6:44 PM Pacosilecta - Food 6:48 PM Booba Starr - Legal 6:51 PM Culture Brown - Strong and Bless 6:52 PM Warrior King - People of This World 6:54 PM Ras Indio - Bed of Roses

[catholicartistsnyc]

Meet Sister Desiré Anne-Marie Findlay

Sister Desiré Anne-Marie Findlay is a Felician sister, dancer, writer and artist. She dances live on her Instagram (@sister_d) and blogs at Religious Life for Beginners.  You can also catch her performances and videos about life as a religious sister on her YouTube channel.

In September 2020, Catholic Artist Connection’s Laura Pittenger spoke with Sister Desiré about dance, creativity in religious life, and how the Church can better serve its artists, particularly those of color. An edited and condensed version of that conversation is included below: 

LAURA PITTENGER (LP): I have to tell you, I mentioned to a friend that I was going to interview a Felician sister about her art and my friend said, “Is this the sister who dances on instagram? I LOVE HER.” You have a lot of fans!

SISTER DESIRÉ FINDLAY (SDF): I joke with my friends that I’m like a “small big deal.” (Editor’s note: As of this writing, she has over 3,500 followers on Instagram. We think she’s a regular big deal.)

LP: Where are you currently living and where are you from originally? 

SDF: I live in Pittsburgh, PA, but I was born in Biloxi, Mississippi and grew up in Albuquerque, New Mexico. I also lived in California and Connecticut for awhile. Right now I live with one other sister in my community, which varies wherever I go. I’ve lived with 20 to 6 sisters at a time. My favorite was when there were three of us. It was a cool balance, we all traveled a lot, two of us we’d hang out and welcome the third back home, and another would leave and return and we’d welcome her home. it was like a seamless kind of movement.

LP: How did you become a dancer? 

SDF: It started when I was very young. My mom put me in ballet at three years old. We lived in Germany because my dad was in the Air Force, and I remember being in ballet class, running around in a circle on my tiptoes, and I started crying. Maybe because everything was in German! So when we moved back to the U.S., she put me in gymnastics. I went back into ballet for seven years, and in high school I joined the dance team. I learned other dance styles, jazz and hip-hop, those are my fun energy-based dances, but ballet has stayed my favorite. But what I do now is contemporary, not classical.

LP: Who are some dancers that you admire and who inspired you as a child? 

SDF: Actually it was more like gymnasts. There were two I remember: Dominique Moceanu and Dominique Dawes. I don’t even think I considered this as a child, but now that I look back on it, it makes sense because they both have darker skin, or darker hair, or are from a different culture. They both reflected me and my sister, we looked up to them. They were just so good, and we could see ourselves in them. Watching them, it was like I could see myself in performing arts too. 

LP: In the interview you did with America Magazine last year [above] you mentioned that dance for you is like a prayer. Could you share a little more about that?

SDF: I never experienced dance as prayer until I was invited to do a prayerful dance for an event. I didn’t know that was possible or that dance could be anything other than performance. The event was a dance to celebrate sisters who had spent 60 to 75 years in the convent. When I noticed that I was inviting all of us in the community to speak with God through my dance, I was like - dance can do this? I can speak to God with my entire body. I didn’t know why I hadn’t been doing that. 

I don’t do a lot of formal dance as prayer. I do lead group sometimes or on social media, and people can join in if they want. It’s spontaneous. I don’t choreograph unless i’m leading, but I like to just find whatever song is standing out to me at the time, and let it move me. Sometimes you hear songs that you have to move to, very prayerful songs, some by Audrey Assad, for example, that let us reflect on God and our lives. Sometimes a song will come to me and be in my head for awhile and I just need to dance it out, or I’m in a mood, and look through my songs on my iPad and see what songs I have. 

For example, in Advent, The Piano Guys have this cover of O Come O Come Emmanuel that’s instrumental. (I love that song, even though we hear it all season, I don’t get tired of it.) For some reason their instrumental version was stuck in my head, their version. I could not stop thinking about it, and I thought I’d dance it out. Even though there were no lyrics to it, I really felt that song. The line about captives being set free - I could express that through my limbs, that freedom, to be captive and set free by this amazing God who came to be human.

LP: What kind of support within the Felician community have you received for your dance, and how do you think religious communities can benefit from having artists in them?

SDF: My community has been very supportive of me in many things already anyway, but I would say when it comes to dance, on a personal basis my sisters will ask me about it, or send emails or call, or just when I see them at gatherings - “How are you doing? I’ve been reading about you! Keep up good work.” Or they ask if I’ve been using my dance, if they haven’t seen it lately. The community invites me to dance for events, like the Transitus of St. Clare of Assisi - when she passed away and went to her Spouse in Heaven, we have a ceremony to commemorate that. They asked me to pray that out in dance. So they’re not just encouraging me to dance, but asking me to do it for gatherings. 

I’m not the only artist. We have so many creative sisters. The sisters have the space to really pursue their creative skills or put them to use somehow. One sister does all our communications and designs our prayer spaces and booklets. She probably would have been like an interior designer or graphic designer, but here she is enhancing our gatherings with her talents. Sometimes you need something to look appealing to make people want to care. Creativity adds to life, I think, color, personality.

LP: There are so many religious orders out there. What drew you to the Felician sisters?

SDF: I was in college when I met them, it was on a 100-mile pilgrimage. I didn’t know it was going to be 100 miles, or that it was to pray for vocations. I’m not a detail person - God just knows how to work with me! God’s just like, “Come do this.” I signed up for the pilgrimage for the cultural aspect, to walk through pueblos. I love my New Mexican heritage. I had no thought about it being a Catholic pilgrimage. I met these two Felician sisters on the pilgrimage, and I had never heard of the order in my life. They were so different, one gentle introvert and one loud, happy extrovert. I love that they are just themselves. They don’t have to be anybody else, to be like or look like or act like each other. They can just be. So I thought, maybe I could be myself. I had thought of religious life before, to be able to pray and serve, that’s cool, but it was never something I thought I saw in my future, until I met them.

LP: What is the formation process like for the Felician sisters? 

SDF: Entering the Felicians is a nine-year process, minimum. Other orders can take six years minimum. It deepens in intensity as you go, but the first year I was still going to school and living on my own, so I’d visit with them and had a director. Then I moved in my second year and learned about the community and the saints. I became a novice and learned more about spiritual aspect of the community and my spiritual life. And then after that, four years later, I made my first vows. That’s when I moved out and was a sister, living the vows, but it still wasn’t forever, I could still change my mind. That stage is six years by itself. This August 15, 2020, was my one-year anniversary of making final vows. So it’s been 10 years. 

LP: How do you think the Catholic church can do better, starting right now, in supporting artists - and in your case, artists of color? Or Catholics of color in general?

SDF: I think even just this conversation, reaching out to us. Because we can try and create our own spaces to voice what we want to voice and share art we want to share, but unless we’re invited to share, it’s not going to get into a larger space. A Felician sister is a member of the The Stained Glass Association of America, and she said lately they’ve been getting calls from churches with predominantly Black parishioners with churches with stained glass of only white people, and they’re saying, “This doesn’t reflect our church, and Jesus wasn’t white, and we want diversity, how do we do that? How do we go about changing these windows? How do we invite artists of color into this industry? How do we bring more diversity in, to reflect the church we have?” It’s just by invitation, that’s where it starts. The sisters invited me to do this dance. Invitation.

LP: What would you say to someone who feels drawn to both their art or performance but also might feel a call to religious life? Do you think art can also be a form of vocation?

SDF: Like I said, I’m not a detail person, so I wouldn’t have looked up or researched anything. I go as my life unfolds. I don’t plan things. I know there are people out there who think they need to research everything - I didn’t do any of that. Everyone has a different way of discerning. When it comes to vocation and living your full authentic self, including your creativity, whatever form that takes, your passion - it could be immigration policy - there are ways to incorporate that into your vocation, whether you’re married, a sister, or a layperson. Do a little research and say, “Is that community open to that?” In some communities, everybody has the same ministry. In mine, you get to choose your own. There are communities where you can be an immigration lawyer. If I wanted to be a heart surgeon, I can be! 

You have to know what your non-negotiables are. The goodness of God - He already knew my non-negotiable was my creativity, and I didn’t realize that. God led me to a community at the right time and in a way that spoke to me. I just said i’m going with it. Nothing else seemed to fit. 

We have a style of dress we like to wear as Felician sisters, but we have an option. You can be more traditional, or you can wear a dress and make sure you wear a crucifix. There are some guidelines, but you get to choose. You can be an individual. 

Pay attention to what speaks to you. Pay attention to what brings resistance in a community. Knowing that I can be so creative is part of what makes my vocation so fruitful. I can design notebooks! I can share things on social media on my own time. I never knew that’s what i wanted. After I realized dance could be prayer, I want everything I do to have that kind of meaning. That was my non-negotiable. God said, “I gave you these gifts.” It reminds me of the story of Abraham and Isaac. When I was going to enter the Felician sisters, I thought that I’d probably have to give up dance, God said, “I gave it to you.” I was willing to give it up, but God gave it back to me a hundredfold. I’ve gotten to teach dance here and abroad. I never thought I’d do anything like that.

LP: Do you have any words of advice for other Catholic artists who may be struggling right now amid the COVID-19 pandemic and everything else in the world?

SDF: I was very much struggling when all this started. I was used to traveling and meeting lots of people all over the place. I felt very seen, very heard. Suddenly I was in my own little world, and I didn’t have to get up or go anywhere. Before, I was being invited to spaces, but now I have to create spaces for myself. I wasn’t posting dance videos until the pandemic happened. I wanted to connect, but couldn’t in the ordinary way. My suggestion would be to create the connection that you feel you’re missing, because a lot of us were connecting in ways we were used to: coffee, concerts... 

Whether we are an observer or an artist, we’re used to connecting through creativity. Now we have to find ways to share that creativity and enjoy it in different spaces. So to be open to those, it means a lot of technology. It still matters and makes a difference for others. I’ve felt a change in myself, being able to connect with people through technology and through Zoom dance group. At first I didn’t want to do it, but people were asking to experience dance as prayer. The Zoom group is open for anyone, but now I’ve just been doing Instagram and Facebook live. I just tried it for the first time last month. I didn’t know people were craving this different type of prayer experience until people started sharing it. Even when I was unwilling, God created this space for myself and other people and I get to share this gift. Here we are praying together, with openness.

[sistahscifi]

We jumped at our desk when we learned about Vincent Tirado's second book, WE DON'T SWIM HERE.

Tirado serves another gripping ya horror, but shifts settings from urban industrial underground subways of Hunts Point in the Bronx to the bucolic rural lakefront of Hillwoods.

As in Burn Down, Rise Up; history, legend, and community continue to play center stage in We Don't Swim Here as Bronwyn navigates painful trues to free themselves and those they love.

If you are excited to learn more, @boogiedowngrind is hosting an in person Q&A with Vincent Tirado Thursday May 4th at 630PM EST. And course, Sistah Scifi has preorders of hardcovers signed by Vincent Tirado.

Better yet, check it out from your local #library. Today, we celebrate @HuntsPointNYPL.

Reposted @sourcebooksfire In WE DON’T SWIM HERE, the next horror YA novel from @v_e_tirado, we follow a gripping investigation that unveils humanity’s monstrous potential.

Perfect for readers of Tiffany D. Jackson, Lamar Giles, and Ryan Douglass

📸: @bratzlibrary

#wedontswimhere #vincenttirado

Reposted @boogiedowngrind Save Date: #SouthBronx #author @v_e_tirado debuts 2nd book Thurs MAY 4 at 6:30pm!

.

#huntspointnyc #huntspoint #intheboogiedown #bronxauthor #thebronxisreading #sistahscifi #boogiedowngrind #vincenttirado #BurnDownRiseUp #WeDontSwimHere #yahorror #thebronx #bronx

@writeinbk

@lamargiles

@ryan_souflee

//

@thebronxisreading

@sourcebooksfire

[sparklestardesigns]

THE SISTAHS!!!! three of them now :D

from left to right, leafpool, squirrelflight, and YELLOWTAIL!! now this was a commission for the lovely moonstone, where you can find her here @lovelunamay !

she has an awesome au where these two, leafpool and squirrelflight, have another sister named yellowtail :]!!! you can see all about it on her blog @yellowtailau !

[itzurhomiesky]

u should draw sksw zelda!!!

Here ya go @ballad-draws !! And thank you for the ask !!

I know you're a big sksw Zelda enthusiast so I decided to make this more than a doodle >:D ♡

Credits to my sistah @rynreally for the bg and rendering !! I couldn't do it myself due to some bad art block so that helped a lot !!!

Sorry if this took too long ^^; school was a bit hard to deal with and i couldn't bring myself to draw too much these days

Hopefully Zelda turned out well though !! This was my first time drawing her haha :DD