#uplifting one another in a society that tries to drag them down

[sukibenders]

Marina Thompson Crane is forced back into society following after, not only, her husband's death but discovering that he left everything in his name---from the land to the responsibilities to the money all connected to him---to her. She is now Lady Crane and surrounded by those who await to sink their teeth into her, just as they done before when she was younger, only now with some faux respectability given her new title.

Finding friends is hard, or maybe because she makes it so given the last time, so when Eloise Bridgerton starts making conversation with her Marina can't help but study it with a sharp eye. It's not the first time someone had tried to get in her good graces, throwing in an overly kind compliment that, once upon a time, would have made her heart soar, but now only makes her alert. She was in no mood for a repeat of her first season nor the events that followed. But Eloise keeps pushing, with all her stubbornness and lack of filter, hurriedly rushing to apologize whenever she makes a misstep before standing her ground the next. While most people, when they look to Marina, see an outcast, a woman who got off lucky but has no right to the title of her late husband, Eloise sees a woman subjected to the same harshness of their world that many others had not been so fortunate enough to withstand. Eloise sees someone who could inspire.

Marina appreciates her honesty and becomes more responsive towards the younger Bridgerton girl, indulging her from time to time. And, maybe, because it was nice to have a friend. Whenever Colin comes towards her, Eloise is always there to divert his attention, and whenever Marina attempts to seek out Penelope, the girl who always seems to lurk near the pair, Eloise quickly steers in the other direction with a cold look in response to the youngest Featherington.

It isn't long before a few other young girls flock to the pair, some well off while others are clinging to what they have left. They're all different from one another, but have a shared desire. They don't want a part in the ways of the Ton nor to lose their liberties, but fear the consequences if they do (for how could they remain standing on their own if things don't work out?) Marina is someone they respect. At first, she doesn't see it that way and quickly tries to wave them off, as she wants no part in some girls' rebellious behavior when she has her own children to think of, until she sees how desperate they are. How much she inspires them. How alone they are.

How much they remind her of herself.

Marina doesn't necessarily know how it starts, as it's a tedious process with how some members of society still see her as tarnished and don't want their children near her, but they work it out. Young girls flock to her home, seeking a break from the stresses of the Ton and their expectations, and leave with more knowledge of their self-worth and friendships that they've never had before. It doesn't start out as much, but it grows into something more than Marina could expect (or hope for).

It's also a surprise when the youngest Sharma sister stops by her door, all with a blinding smile and hopes to be accepted given the fact that society views her as a pariah and mocks her when they think she cannot hear. For it was her that ran away from the Viscount during their would be wedding, so she must be the problem. Marina sees that she lacks friends as well or, more so, a friend that can understand her grief. How could she turn her away? Answer: she never would.

[wildpeachfarm]

this is meant lighthearted : instead of “all men are trash, women do no wrong” a secret third thing “PEOPLE suck in general”

as someone who grew up with an absent father who tried to make life difficult for my mother once she took him to court for child support for me and my siblings - ing…I grew up with a not nice view of older men BUT my grandpa was a big big influence in not making men a negative experience for us.

the recent shift of the last 4-5 years has been worrying. I used to liked jkr and could emphasize where she was coming from originally. but it was scary to see the gradual descent into where she is now and the stuff she is saying. Bc she is so far removed from what she originally stood for. It can happen to anyone, I even get worried if I’m on that slope sometimes. This whole situation had me second guessing myself bc I gave gnf time and believed in him. I had a moment when a few female creators made remarks (not from mc community) and I checked myself bc I was scared I was falling into the conservative rhetoric to blame women and protect men. Then I saw others who had more information and actually looked into it and also found this blog where the nuances were being discussed and let out a breath of relief that I was just using my critical thinking skills lmao

There are so many men out there who just aren’t given a chance bc society is set up for them to fall into a certain role. And I think a lot of men are trying to break that role and stereotypes. I became a dream fan bc I saw him doing this, saw a gamerboy in 2020 who was passionate and excelled at the game but didn’t fall into the toxicity of the space, actively fought against it.

and women should not be encouraged to drag men through hell bc they feel empowered by the rhetoric of recent years. women can and are just as selfish and shitty people as men. Sometimes they are worse

we’ve gone so far off center, we’ve essentially gone from one extreme to another. Which I learned two years ago was called terfs 😂 the movement needs to go back to its previous meaning. Feminism is not solely female empowerment it is the deconstructing of the patriarchal roles and belief that push men and women into boxes. Feminism, as I was taught over a decade ago, was the fight for women and MEN to be equal and have the same rights and opportunities. We can uplift women without putting down men. if this feminist movement doesn’t correct itself, it will allow more men like andrew tate to grow and influence young men.

The lack of female representation in the sphere cannot be corrected by women. It just can’t. Men need to be part of the change bc if the environment is not corrected, women cannot succeed and thrive. They can become successful but the hate and obstacles directed towards them is crazy. This is in general not just for streaming.

It can’t just be women solidarity, men need to learn and actively engage in calling out misogynist behavior. Women need to talk with their males friends and call them out when they say or act in disgusting ways. Women need to hold women accountable as well! It is unfair and unattainable to put female equality solely in the hands of women. We need to All work together.

Puffy is so good at this when she streams, especially on the smp. Hell, she even created a whole villain arc to call out the people telling her to “be a therapist to Tommy, omg your like dreams mom”. Puffy is awesome 🥹

men =/ bad

women =/ good

PREACH ANON

this breaks it all down so well and i really sympathize with you about having a poor view of some men in your life and trying to not let that influence your views but also not go so far off the other end that you end up blindly defending them without critical thinking.

Really important discussions and introspection about how your thought processes work that I think everyone should have at least once when situations like this come up

[moonlightsylph]

So watch your step or you're gonna fall apart

Hold yourself together inside the dark

Don't look down, you won't get far

You're only as strong as you think you are 

Shiick. Shiiick.

Another year, another hunt. She looks down at the shell in her hand, inspecting the scratches along the side from the knife. There was another raid gone wrong she heard, ending with someone losing a arm while wailing over the death of their cell mate. They got too close to something while investigating, had the misfortune of being joined by the Society nutcase. Now there is someone that might never hunt again, a corpse and another report saying how it wasn't the agents' fault that the House lost good hands.

She grunts, putting the knife back to the shell, continuing the carve. Fucking crazy bastards, this is why the House prefers to stay with other House. Snakes work better together after all. Apparently.

She blows the shaving off, listening to the rumor mill kick up more. She found early on that if you shut the fuck up you tend to learn shit because no one else does the same. Same clucking chickens, same recycled grievances and condolences, all aiming to uplift the spirit of the poor fucker crying in the medbay. After hearing it so often it tends to just become white noise in her ears, though she admits they do mean what they are saying. Mostly. Still, it's not always what someone wants to hear after losing someone you've grown close too, someone that always had your back and willing to go to hell with you out there.

It's never easy to lose a Sibling out there.

The knife stills at that thought, her teeth gritting as she hisses low. She sets down the shell and knife as she rubs her hands together. She feels the old scarring, the nicks missing and rough pads catching together. She grounds herself to the here and now, as her mind tries to drag her back to her teens. To a time where she stood in the ashes of her home, of the burnt hand grasping at her ankle in its death. Of the phantom screams that don't exist anymore in the quaking silence. Of the heat of flames now dead on her body, leaving burns that will haunt her years to come.

It takes her a moment to ground herself, dragged back from the first encounter of the things that bump in the night. With a strained breath, she picks up the shell and knife, inspecting the carving before working on the finishing details.

She has lost more people since then. Each death another hardened scale on her, building a thick hide of armor to the present day. Cell-mates, mentor, children lost to the Monsters. She gained a new scale and carried on, because someone needs to do this job.

Setting the knife down at last, cleaning off the shell, she makes her way to the medbay in stoic silence while others pass her by like ghosts. Shouldering the door, following the sound of quieted cries that are now just choked breathing. The young man looks miserable and lost, the grief heavy on their shoulders like a river-soaked coat threatening to drown them. A look she knows too well and a look that brings to question if they even have the will to continue.

She tosses the shell into their lap and shoves her hands into her coat. She stares down the young man as he reads the name on the shell framed by a snake's tail, fresh tears rolling down their face. Their eyes look up to her, a faint light sparking to life in somber questions. She just grunts, turning on her heel toward the door.

"Carry them. Whatever you do now, is up to you kid. Either curl up and cry or get back out there for the both of you."

She doesn't have to look back to know the sharp gaze at her back. The grit of teeth and the clench of fist over the bullet shell. Whatever the kid does now, he will carry a scale over his heart.

Because some bastards don't need pretty words and pitying looks to get the venom back in their eyes. Some need a show of Fang and Scale from another scarred fighter that has been here before.

What strength that venom has now is up to those left behind when the dead leave.

[jadekitty777]

On Your Six, Chapter 3

Day 3: Parenting for @taiqrowweek

Rating: T for this chapter, M for overall

Words: 5k

Summary: Qrow was what most of society would call a small-town criminal. But to those oppressed, he hoped only to be a healer. In an effort to make a change in the world, he moves from kingdom to kingdom, searching for branded omegas in need. His goal? To turn the derogatory words the reformatories forced them to bear on their skin into works of art.

Then one day, his past catches up to him in the form of Taiyang, his former best friend, with a brand of his own stained onto his skin and a plea for help in his eyes. Qrow has no choice but to answer, even if it means he’d have to face his mistakes once and for all.

[An ABO-style universe in a modern-day style Remnant. No Grimm, because people are the real monsters in this one]

Ao3 Link: On Your Mind

~

Early on in his career, Qrow had come to value the strength in listening.

He knew for every omega who walked through his door, he was a step in their healing process. It didn’t matter at what point in that process he was treading into; everyone came needing something. A sense of control. A desire to feel beautiful again. A need to shake off shame. No matter what it was, every reason was understandable and downright defensible.

But he knew his deed didn’t always end at the tip of a needle. Sometimes it wasn’t what was on their skin, but what was in their minds that weighed the most. Those were his talkers. The ones who felt so hurt or overcome by what had happened to them, they had to tell their story to someone.

So Qrow listened. He listened to the Mistrialian baker who tried to escape his abusive relationship by drugging his alpha one night and escaping into the night as the word Disloyal was overwrote. Erased Rebel as he was enraptured by the Rights Activist from Mantle who handed out self-funded newspapers all dedicated to lining out the inequalities among the dynamics. Nearly cried with the elderly Valian spinster who had been trafficked from her home in Vacuo decades ago to became the fourth wife of a rich proprietor as he made sure Owned could never be seen again.

Now today, he was turning the word SLUT into art as Tai recounted the love story that dared him to engage in one of society’s most taboo acts.

“So there I was, dragging my feet out of the ER at 2 AM, feeling like the worst parent in history as Yang bawls in my arms. I was so distressed, I couldn’t even remember where I’d parked and just started going through the rows.” They were sitting today. Tai cross-legged on his bed and staring out the window while Qrow sat behind him. “That’s when Summer called to me. She remembered I was one of the patients just going in as she got off her shift. She asked me what was going on and I told her how the doctor who’d seen us kicked me out for wasting his time over some diaper rash. And you know what she did?” A smile uplifted his tone. “She looked between me and Yang and said, ‘No parent spends five hours in the ER over nothing.’ Then she took my arm and led me back inside. Snapped at the staff to give her a room and saw to Yang herself. I couldn’t believe it. She’d just come off of a twelve-hour shift. She had to of been exhausted. But that was the kind of woman she was. When she saw someone who needed help, she put everything else aside to do it.”

A hiss breathed through the other’s teeth as Qrow lined over the base of the T, tailing the ends to look more like the trunk of a tree. “Were you right?” He prompted, hoping to distract him.

“Yeah. Yeast infection.” Tai puffed up proudly. “Nothing a bit of prescription cream and some TLC couldn’t fix, but it still felt so validating to be told my worries weren’t just in my head. It was the first time since Raven left that I felt I really could do this on my own.” That uplift was back, overlayed with fondness. “But, it was Summer who reminded me that just because I can, doesn’t mean I had to.”

He moved his pen higher, maple leaves beginning to bloom along his back. “How’d it happen?”

“Well, so, they called me in a few days after that night for a check-up. When I got there, I found out Summer had arranged things to make sure she was the doctor attending us. She had told me at the time it was just normal for her to touch base with anyone who came through ER that she had looked after. That it made her happy to see her patients doing well.” He barked out a laugh. “She was such a liar! She didn’t tell me this until later, but apparently the only reason she did it was because she thought I was cute and wanted to see me again.”

Tch, what a brat. Qrow scoffed, doggedly ignoring the had he been in her position, he absolutely would have done the same.

“We started talking and joking around. One thing led to another and suddenly she was asking me out for coffee! I was so shocked I almost fell out of my chair. But… I said yes. And, it was the best decision of my life.”

He couldn’t do this. He jerked back and turned off the pen before the shaking in his hand ruined his work. “Sorry. Hand’s cramping up. Can we take a break?”

Oblivious as ever, the omega gave him one of those stupidly bright smiles that he hated because it made his heart do weird things. “Sure.” As they slid off the bed and Tai took the opportunity to stretch, he asked, “How about tea?”

“Yeah, I’ll go put on the pot.” Qrow didn’t even get two steps before a hand clapped down on his shoulder.

“Nope. You’re resting.”

“But-”

“Relax. I got this.”

Then Tai wandered right into his kitchen like he owned the place, leaving him with no choice but to throw up his arms and take a seat. Qrow watched him go through the motions, turning to fill the kettle. From this distance, the word that had once been etched into his skin was completely unreadable, overtaken by a mismatch of new marks in various states of healing.

A perfect reflection of the man who bore them.

Regret dropped like a stone in his stomach, feeling sick as the omega took care of him over a lie. He lowered his head and took his punishment in the form of a simple question, “So when did you two get serious?”

“Hm? Oh, you mean Sums and I?”

“No, I meant you and me.” Qrow snarked, because he hated himself.

Tai set the pot on the stove, the burner sparking to life. “I knew we had a forever connection the day you offered to eat all the yellow Starburst from the bag and leave all the good flavors for me.”

Well now he was resentful and insulted. “Yellow is the good flavor.”

“Mmhmm, keep telling yourself that.” He started tearing open a pair of tea packets, dropping one each in the mugs. “Anyways, promise not to judge me too much?”

“For what, your love life or your weird issues with Starburst?”

“Qrow!”

He held up hand as a peace offering, leaning back. “Okay, okay. I promise.”

Tai eyed him suspiciously for several seconds before finally saying, “We bonded four months in.”

“FOU-” He cut himself off and took a breath. He seemed to have to do this a lot more lately. “I mean, that’s not so bad.”

“Good save.” Sarcasm dripped from his tone. “Look, I thought I was going too fast too. But when I would sit down and think of my future, I just could see her in it. Summer was a piece of me I didn’t even know I was missing. And when I found out she felt the same about me we decided, fuck it! Who cares about what everyone else is going to say? We knew we wanted each other.”

On display as he was, Qrow’s gaze fell to the spot on Tai’s neck where the two scars lay. The imperfect ovals were layered atop one another right in the juncture of his shoulder and collarbone, cutting through his scent gland. Similar to a snake’s fangs, alpha incisors had a hollow part, allowing them to release a bit of their musk during the bite which would then inject itself into an omega’s glands and permanently alter their scent.

Staking a claim.

Granted, with the tattoo he couldn’t smell even a hint of either Raven or Summer any longer. But back then, he could imagine how pungent it had been. Even if the new smell wasn’t a dead giveaway, the pinker shade of the fresher one was a big neon sign that drew the eye. There wouldn’t be any hiding it, even if the couple had tried.

Which meant they absolutely became the gossip of every corner on the street. Summer being well off and Tai being abandoned and annulled didn’t help matters in the slightest. He already knew what people would have thought, well before the brand was ever made.

He frowned. “Even knowing you’d get the worst of it?”

“Tch. Tell me something else that’s new.” Tai snipped, rolling his eyes. “You know, I could have been a perfect little omega. Quiet. Thoughtless. Unopinionated. Or I could have also spent the rest of my life as a part of the Single’s Forever Club. Risen Yang alone and never looked at another Alpha again. And you know what? People would still have shit to say about me. That’s what happens when society’s rigged against you.” He smacked his hand down on the counter. “When does my happiness matter?”

That stone still in his stomach was only getting heavier. “Sorry.”

The fire burnt out as quickly as it was there, and Tai only shook his head, mumbling, “Forget it. It’s whatever right?”

“It’s not. It’s fucking wrong.” He said with more fury than he meant to.

Tai’s smile was tired and defeated. “If only more people thought like you.”

The kettle whistle blew, effectively ending their conversation. It wasn’t long before Tai was taking his seat across from him, their mugs steaming on the table before them. Idly, Qrow traced the rim of his with his index finger, trying to think of something to say.

His focus shifted when a hand was suddenly being held out before him, clearly asking for something. “Uh?”

“Give me your hand.” Tai demanded.

His brain moved sluggishly, but when he understood what the other was offering, his face went redder than his eyes. “I, uh, need to drink my tea?”

“You’ve got a left one for that. Come on already.”

“It’s fine. It’s not that-” Any argument he had slipped away when he tried pulling his hand further away, only for the omega to reach over and snag it.

The simple touch was like electricity zinging through his muscles, leaving him helpless to resist as Tai laid his arm across the table. “You’re such a big baby.” He teased as he rolled up the cuff of Qrow’s shirt, pressing the pads of his fingers along the length of his forearm.

When the massage started, Qrow absolutely melted. While he hadn’t been entirely honest, it would still be true to say that he was probably working his way into an early case of carpal tunnel with how much tension built from his shoulder down to his wrist during his work. He sighed, slumping over the table as the other made his way up past his elbow. “I hate you.” He mumbled, face pillowed in his other arm.

“Yeah, I’m the worst.” Tai replied cheerily.

Gods, if only that were true, then maybe he wouldn’t love him as much as he did.

~

“I wish you could have met her.” Tai told him a little after sundown.

Qrow hummed questioningly, not pulling his eyes up from the midribs he was painstakingly adding onto every leaf. He felt like he was performing some sort of a balancing act, sitting on the edge of the recliner so he was close enough to draw while also trying to keep out of the beam of his scroll light pointed at them from his nightstand, since the weak 40 watt overhead just wasn’t bright enough to work with. There was a reason he never tattooed after dark.

“Summer.” Tai clarified, reminding him exactly why they were an hour behind. “You woulda liked her.”

He almost laughed at how inane that statement was. “Doubt that.”

“Really! She was sweet and a little shy. A bit of a rebel too. And I mean, she moved to Vale ‘cause she knew she could help more people in need for cheaper than the high end hospitals she could have worked in would charge.” He glanced over his shoulder as Qrow re-inked. “You gotta let that Atlesian stigma go, man.”

There really was no good way to answer that, so he didn’t bother trying. Gods only knew what Tai would have thought of him, if he found out the real reason they never would of gotten along was because Qrow didn’t believe he’d be able to resist his instincts a second time around. The ones that screamed at him to show Tai he was the more worthwhile mate, even if that meant delving things into a fistfight.

“I guess it doesn’t matter now.” The omega said when he caught on that he wasn’t going to get a response. “At least you’ll have a chance to meet Ruby. I warn you though, you’re totally going to fall in love. She’s got so much energy to her, like you wouldn’t believe. She giggles so much too, it’s the cutest little sound. And-! And…”

Pausing, Qrow flipped off the pen. “Tai?”

“S-Sorry.” He rubbed a hand over his face, clearing his throat loudly. “It just, hurts. Not knowing how they’re doing.” His voice broke. “I miss them.”

Not sure what else to do, he silently pressed his forehead against the base of Tai’s neck, mindful of his back as he wound an arm across his middle in a loose hug.

Knew, without a doubt, that it wasn’t nearly enough.

~

A year ago, when Qrow was working outside of Mantle for a spell, a client he’d never forget walked through his door. He was unusually broad-shouldered and buff, just like Tai. Yet, it wasn’t his physical attributes that truly made him stand out. It was the omega’s confidence.  He had a stride to him that exuded self-assurance and a stance that yielded pride.

It threw him completely off his game, as he was used to playing the role of consoler. Yet, as the omega held out his hand to shake, Qrow found himself wanting to compete against him. “You’re Harbinger. It’s a pleasure. I’ve heard a lot.”

“Only good things, I hope.” He replied, his grip firm and unyielding. “And you are?”

“Clover Ebi.” That name rang a bell, but he couldn’t place why. “And they were. You did a rebrand for a buddy of mine who lives over in the orange district. I was hoping you could do the same for mine.”

That brought some air to his sails as he found himself on more comfortable ground. “Yeah, ‘course I can. Why don’t you take a seat and I can get a gander at what I’m working with?”

“That’s the thing…” For the first time since he walked in, some of that boldness faltered. “If I show you, I need you to promise me not to freak out.”

Well, now he was really intrigued. “Come on. It can’t be that bad. Wait – it’s not on like, your ass cheek or something right?”

“You’re as crude as Robyn warned me you’d be.”

Qrow perked up at the name, remembering her as the outspoken journalist he’d looked after during his first stint in Mantle.

Clover placed a hand over his left bicep. “No, no, it’s nothing like that. It’s under this.”

“Okay then, what’s the proble- Oh, shit.”

His heart rate jumped from resting to cardiac arrest in record time at the sight of the brand – not a harsh word like so many others had been forced to bear, but a simple, cursive script of the man’s own last name. The mark of someone who was in service of the Atlas military.

Which meant he was probably being set up right now.

“Fuck!” Qrow stumbled backwards, looking around wildly for a weapon. An exit. Anything.

“Hey, it’s okay!” Clover followed after him, albeit at a slower pace. “Come on, you said you wouldn’t freak out.”

He picked up an umbrella, holding it en garde like his sister used to with her katana. “We’re way past that, buddy. So, what is this? A trap? Are a bunch more of you about to bust through my wall to take me in?”

“Don’t be ridiculous. Will you just – put the umbrella down!”

He came within striking distance – so Qrow struck. A fast swipe at his face.

Clover didn’t even look as his hand shot up to catch it. With strength he wasn’t even trying to hide, he yanked the makeshift weapon right out of Qrow’s grip and tossed it over his shoulder. He caught the fist that came next, boxing him into the corner so that he didn’t have room to move. It was an oddly uncomfortable feeling, being pinned down and powerless.

But while the hold was solid it wasn’t tight, nor was Clover’s face aggressive. “Can you calm down, please? I didn’t come here to turn you in. I came here because I want your help.”

“Why?” He barked back. “You chose to take that mark. Feeling regretful now soldier boy?”

The omega’s expression shifted darkly. “The only thing I chose was to fight for my kingdom, because I believe in protecting the people. This mark is something I have to bear, if I want to pursue that goal.”

His hands slid off, giving Qrow some breathing space. As he stared at the other, suddenly it came to him. “Wait. Ebi. I knew I recognized your name. You made headlines recently. You’re the captain of Tin Jimmy’s specialty squad.”

It had been a huge sensation, an omega taking a leadership position like that. It was practically unheard of and people talked it up like it was a sign of the ‘changing times.’ But he had brushed it off as another one of the kingdom’s typical publicity stunts. They always had something or the other going on to turn the people’s heads – because if everyone was looking at Atlas, no one would see anything else.

“I don’t get it. Why?” His brow furrowed, trying to make sense of it.

“Because I represent something larger than just a captain of a team. I represent hope. The worst thing for us is when no one’s talking. And I sure got them talking.”

That made sense. Nothing changed if no one was having the conversation. Still… “Rebranding could get you decommissioned. Negative PR be damned.”

“Well, as they say: Sometimes you got to risk it all for a dream.” Clover said with a quirk of his lips. “So, will you help me?”

It was one of the most needlessly reckless decisions he had ever made, but he did. In two, relatively short sessions, they were done. He slept with one eye open every day in-between, but when they finished and Clover was instead urging him to keep his contact info (“Just in case you ever get in trouble.”), Qrow felt oddly at ease. Like maybe he truly did make a friend in all this.

He never questioned why the case never hit the news – but if he left Mantle a little quicker than normal, well, that was his business.

Now, as he hit dial on that old contact, he could only pray Clover at least was going to keep this part of his word.

He picked up after the second ring. “Hello?”

“Hey soldier boy.” Qrow started, trying to sound casual. “It’s Harbinger.”

A beat. Then, “Oh. Oh! Uh, two seconds okay?” There was a muffled bit of a noise and a faint, “I’ll be right back. Gotta take this.” A bit more shuffling and background noise as Qrow assumed he left the room, then Clover’s voice was back in his ear, surprisingly frantic. “What’s going on? Are you alright?”

“Yeah. Sorry, it’s not an emergency call.” He replied.

The omega let out a sigh of relief. It felt oddly nice to be worried about. “Oh thank Gods. So then, what’s up?”

“I was hoping you might be able to help me with something.” Qrow said, unconsciously pacing around his box-in-the-wall apartment. “Might be a longshot but, you got any connection with OPS?”

The OPS, or Omega Protection Services, were a kingdom-to-kingdom association that talked big about how they were dedicated to the proper care of the omega brethren in need. While in some veins of their work that was true, like funding lobbies for better rights in the system or providing financial support to those in trouble, it was equally true that under the table the organizations were fed big money from the reformatories to turn over a revolving door of clientele.

The biggest contributor of which was the Crisis Department. It was no secret that a death of a bond mate was devastating to an omega and there was a small percentage of those who became non-functional after the loss. Therefore, any omega known to have recently lost their mate was visited by an OPS agent. If the agent found the omega to be in such an extreme state, it was customary that the widow would be sent away for rehabilitation and any children would be rehomed either with known family or into a foster family until the parent was well enough to care for them again.

The key words being a small percentage. However, according to statistics, almost a quarter of all widowed omegas were in need of ‘reformation’. A percentage that went up or down depending on what kingdom was involved. Vale, their home country, was the only one underperforming on those numbers. By all accounts, Tai never should have gone to a reformatory at all.

The issue was the OPS agent assigned to the omega was from their alpha’s home kingdom. Which meant the agent that knocked on Tai’s door was from Atlas, the kingdom boosting the highest reformatory count by almost double any other one. They also had one of the strictest policies on how they rehomed children. Rather than even consider familial connections, they fostered all of them, claiming it would provide a more stable environment without the potential of an omega in probation from seeking them out and ‘influencing’ their young one’s minds before they were fully well.

All this to say it was almost impossible to know where Tai’s kids were unless he could talk to someone on the inside.

“I know someone who works out of there.” Clover said, before prying almost teasingly. “Why? Who are you looking for?”

Qrow realized too late that he probably should have expected this. “Don’t get any ideas!” He squawked. “I’m… trying to get some info on my niece. Nieces, actually. Just wanting to make sure they’re doing alright.”

“Oh.” Just like that, Clover was all business again. “Yeah, I can swing that. Just gonna need their names and ages, but it shouldn’t be too hard to find them. The names of their sires helps too.”

A sense of relief spread through him. “Yeah I can get that to you. I’ll message it.”

“Perfect! Should have something for you in a few days, okay?”

“Thank you Clover.”

“Anytime.”

It was only after the call ended and he’d written out the requested information, that it hit Qrow.

If he disclosed all this, it really wouldn’t be much further of a stretch for Clover to locate his own information alongside it. All these years on the lam potentially wasted in one single text message.

He flopped onto his bed with a groan, mussing a hand through his hair as the weight of the decision nettled him. Yet, as his thumb moved over to erase everything, his gaze unconsciously fell to his nightstand, where the pages of Tai’s designs were still resting. Thought of all the pain his friend still had to go to finish them, coupled with all he bore before this. Wouldn’t just a day of solace be worth it?

His thumb moved back up.

Sometimes you just had to risk it all, right?

Qrow hit send.

~

Tai smelt his anxiety the moment he walked through the door.

“Everything alright?” He asked, looking about the room as if he expected to find a portion of it on fire.

“Yeah, yeah.” Qrow assured, doing a very bad job of actually appearing alright as he fidgeted with his necklace. “I just have something I wanted to show you. Come here.”

“O…kay?”

Tai followed him over to his bed, sitting down beside him. It was more comfortable than the stiff plastic of the mismatched dining chairs at least, but now Qrow was also realizing it was painfully intimate. As he sat there, fighting the urge to just shove his scroll into the other hands, he realized maybe he should have planned this better. “So, I know this guy from Atlas, right? Someone on the higher end who has a lot of connections. And well, I asked if he might be able to check in on your daughters.”

“What?!” The omega gripped onto his arm, a sort of manic desperation dancing in his eyes. “Qrow, are you serious?”

He nodded, plucking his scroll off the nightstand and swiping over to his photo album. “Yeah and he was able to get me this from their file.” He handed the device over, seeing the way Tai eyes went wide. The photo was reportedly back from January, taken on some sort of outing the family had been on. The two girls were sitting in a sandbox, Yang pushing sand into a yellow bucket with her hands while Ruby watched her, biting on the end of the shovel that her sister probably should have been using.

“They’re with a beta family. An older couple whose kids have already left the house.” Qrow rambled as his friend just continued to stare at his children. “It’s a real nice place. Both the girls have their own rooms and there’s a backyard for them and everything. And the expense reports are showing their getting a nice, balanced diet and toys and even some learning, uh, things. Books and flashcards and all that fancy shit. And, well, uh – T-Tai?”

Tears dripped from the man’s chin, hitting the display of the scroll. “Yang’s in pigtails.”

“What?”

Tai lifted his head, eyes swimming. “I couldn’t get her to let me brush her hair most days, let alone put it in pigtails.”

“Tai…”

The omega brought the device to his chest, as if it was a suitable replacement for the children he’d rather hug. “And look at how big Ruby is now. She’s sitting up all on her own now. Probably walking.” He sobbed, a wretched, terrible noise that burst from something aching to his very core. “What else have I missed? Ruby has to be talking now. I didn’t even get to hear her first word. And Yang’s old enough to be in kindergarten – I should have been there to take her to her first day. But I wasn’t! I wasn’t there for any of it!”

Something in Qrow’s own heart shattered listening to the father’s anguish and he surged forward, gathering Tai up. Pulled him into a tight embrace as if it could protect him from all the hurt he had to bear.

“It’s not fair.” Tai cried into his shoulder. “It was awful enough, losing Summer. But then those OPS bastards came into my house, took one look at my marks and said I was unfit to raise my own kids! I felt so humiliated.” He clenched onto fistfuls of Qrow’s shirt, shaking hard enough he might just fall apart. “It’ll be almost two years by the time they give them back to me. They took those years away from me and I’m never getting them back!” He heaved over another sob. “What if they don’t even remember me Qrow?”

He ran his fingers soothingly through the other’s hair. “No one could forget you Tai. Not with that big, stupid, sunny smile a’yours. Those girls’ll take one look at it and go ‘there’s daddy!’. I just know it.”

It earned him a watery laugh that only delved into more tears. If he could have, Qrow would have torn up all of Atlas to find those pups and bring them back to Tai right then and there. As it was, there was little else he could do but hold him through it.

When the cries eventually turned to sniffles, Tai pulled away to wipe at his face. He looked a mess, eyes bloodshot and blotchy and red. “Sorry. Didn’t mean to lose it on you like that.”

“Think I should be the one saying sorry.” He cast a guilty glance to his scroll, which had fallen onto the bed at some point. “I just thought – I don’t know what I thought. Maybe I wasn’t.”

“Oh, no! Qrow.” Tai pat his knee reassuringly. “I can’t even begin to tell you how much it means to me to see them. To know you did all this for me.” He cast his gaze away, sighing. “It’s just, some days I feel like I’m drowning. There’s not a day that goes by I don’t think of my girls. Worry about them. But if I’m too emotional, suddenly I’m ‘too unstable’. So, I’ve been trying so hard to hold it together.”

Qrow’s jaw clenched. Becoming a professional arsonist was sounding better and better every day. “You don’t have to, not with me.”

“Heh. Even if I cry every day?”

“Cry every hour, if you need to.” He made an aborted gesture towards Tai’s hand. Touched his forearm instead. “Whatever you need, I’m here for you. Alright?”

Tai had no such inhibitions, his other hand laying down over Qrow’s, squeezing gently. “Thank you. I know I haven’t said it nearly enough, but I really do appreciate everything you’ve done. I don’t know how I would have gotten through these past few weeks without you.”

“You would have.” He said, doubtless. Tai was strong inside and out. He’d always admired that about him. “But, I’m glad I can help.”

Anything was worth bringing that smile to his face.

As if on cue, one stretched across Tai’s lips as he said, “I’ll pay you back one day, promise.”

One day, maybe Qrow would tell him he already had.

[bbyx]

ripple effect - part six

Summary: During her fourth year at Hogwarts, (y/n) Deauxville falls for none other than Cedric Diggory. But it's not easy when you have to deal with protecting your family's fortune, keeping your father's illness a secret and having two of your closest friends catch feelings for you.

Pairings : reader x cedric, reader x draco, reader x harry

It was Friday morning, the first week had gone relatively fast. (y/n) was still angry with Draco so she decided to sit at the Gryffindor table. She was popular enough that she didn't get to many glares as she sat down with her friends with her green robes.  You yawn, having spent all night studying.

"I have a quiz in muggle studies today"

"Who do you have class with?" Ron asks

"Ravenclaw" You sigh and bury your head in your hands " I'm bound to have the worst mark in the class."

"At least we have Care of Magical Creatures together." Hermione says playing with a strand of your hair.

You stare at your class notes trying to drill them into your brain.

"Guys, who killed Lincoln again"

"I didn't do it!" Fred screeches.

"I have an alibi! I swear!" George adds wearing an identical grin as his twin.

"John Wilkes Booth"

"Thank you Hermione" You answer glaring at the twins.

"You're eating again, I notice" Ron says to Hermione who's buttering a toast.

"I've decided there are better ways to make a stand about elf rights."

"Yeah....and you were hungry."

You, Daphne and Millicent walk down to Hagrid's hut for Care of Magical creatures.

"Ew what is that?" Millicent says pointing to the cage with strange lobster scorpion hybrids.

"Blast Ended Skrewts!" bellows Hagrid excitedly.

"Oh wow they're... interesting."

"Eurgh" squeals Lavender Brown.

"On'y jus' hatched," said Hagrid proudly, "so yeh'll be able ter raise 'em yerselves! Thought we'd make a bit of a project of it!"

"And why would we want to raise them?" says Draco turning his nose up.

(y/n) picks up some frog liver, trying not to gag and drops it inside the box of skrewts. A flash erupts from the rear end of one of the creatures and she feels a sharp pain in her right hand.

"Ow! Shit! It burned me."

You look at your shaking fingers, whimpering. Your index and part of your middle finger were bright red and blisters were starting to form all over. You bite back tears as a pale pair of hands grab yours.

"(y/n)! Are you alright?" Draco says with a frown as he looks down at your fingers "Bloody hell that looks bad. Come I'll take you to the infirmary."

Hagrid steps forward and tries to inspect your injury but Draco starts pulling you away.

"My father will hear about this." He spits out venomously.

Draco leads you inside the castle.

"Not gonna faint on me this time?"

You smile through the pain. "That was ONE time!" You say thinking back to when you and Draco were little and you fainted on him after scraping your knees.

"Not another one!" Madam Pomfrey exclaims as you walk inside the infirmary already full of students who were burned or stung by the skrewts. She grabs your hand "This is pretty bad" she mutters  quietly " You must have been close to the blast."

"Okay that's it (y/n). I'm taking you to St.Mungos right away." Draco says, looking paler than usual.

You roll your eyes at him. He's always been an overreactor

"Nonsense! Absolute nonsense! I'll have it fixed in a jiffy." huffs Madam Pomfrey, pulling out a turquoise paste from her apron. As soon as the minty paste touches your skin it instantly numbs the pain and makes your hand feel very cold.

"Apply this every morning for a week and you'll be just fine." She says, handing you the paste in your healthy hand.

You string together a few thank yous and slip out of the infirmary. You're walking next to Draco when he grabs your forearm and forces you to face him.

"(y/n) i'm sorry."

You let out a silent sigh of relief because some part of you feared that he would never apologize and your friendship would never be the same.

"For what?" (y/n) wanted to drag out his apology, she wanted to savour this moment, to embed it in her memory forever because Draco Malfoy never apologizes. She's known Draco since before he could talk and she swears he's only apologized to her twice.

"For being a dick." He says grudgingly.

"Annnnd?"

"And being rude to your friends." He chokes the words out like saying them was physically hurting him. He looks so uncomfortable that it's nearly impossible not to keep going.

"Becauseee?"

He signs and turns slightly pink "Because I was jealous."

"That wasn't that hard now was it Drakey?" You had about a thousand nicknames for Draco like Drakey, Dracula, Dee, Little Lucius, Casper the Ghost ect.

"Never doing that again." He scoffs.

"So you forgive me?" You nod. "Really? huh.Thought you would give me a harder time."

You laugh. You've missed this, how easy everything was with him.

"Yes well I need my study partner back before the Muggle Studies quiz."

"Study partner? Please! I'm practically your tutor."

"Whatever shut up Dee."

(y/n) was the last one to leave the Muggle Studies classroom after taking forever to finish her quiz. It wasn't that she wasn't smart but she had had a lot on her mind the past two years and it was taking a toll on her grades. And Muggles were so bloody complicated. She walks into the courtyard just in time to see Professor Moody turn Draco into a small white ferret.

There was a terrified silence and (y/n) ran forward and kneeled on the floor to pick up the ferret.

"Draco?"

"LEAVE IT!" Moody shouted.

"Leave — what?" Harry said, bewildered.

"Not you — her!" Moody growled.

Before you could turn around the ferret leaped out of your hands towards the dungeons.

"I don't think so!" roared Moody. He proceeded to levitate the ferret and slam it back and forth into the ground. You wince every time the ferret hits the floor but find yourself unable to move. Finally Professor McGonagall steps in and turns the ferret back into Draco. You practically jump on him, hugging him tightly while McGonagall scolds Moody.

"Are you alright? Are you hurt? Can you walk?"

"I'm fine" He huffs staring daggers at Harry but when he sees your worried expression his eyes soften and he offers you a slight smile. "Really, i'm all good"

His eyes are still glossed over when he mumbles in your ear "Just wait until I tell father about this"

"Oh yeah?" said Moody quietly, limping forward a few steps, "Well, I know your father, boy. . . . You tell him Moody's keeping a close eye on his son . . . you tell him that from me. . . . " He looks at you dead in the eyes, sending a violent shiver down your back. "That goes for you as well. Now, your Head of House'll be Snape, will it?" He takes Draco's arm and roughly shoves him towards the castle. You stay fixed in your spot pondering Moody's words.

"Don't talk to me," Ron said quietly to Harry, Hermione and (y/n)

"Why not?" said Hermione in surprise.

"Because I want to fix that in my memory forever," said Ron, his eyes closed and an uplifted expression on his face. "Draco Malfoy, the amazing bouncing ferret . . ."

"Shut up Ron"

"C'mon I know you secretly loved watching Draco get his ass handed to him on a platter." He nudges you with his elbow.

A small smile hints at your lips. "Maybe a little"

It was Saturday morning, and you were sitting at the Slytherin table. Everyone was avoiding the topic of Professor Moody because Malfoy was still fuming about yesterday's incident.

"What's that?" says Theo pointing at your SPEW badge.

"Hermione's starting a society for the promotion of elfish welfare." The whole group burst into hysterics but you silence them with a lethal glare. Pansy practically skips over and squeezes herself between you and Blaise.

"Oooh Dracooo? Will you come to Hogsmeade with me today? I really need to buy something, pleaseee?"

"What are you buying?" He answers cooly.

"Guess! It's something I really need." She says with what you think is supposed to be puppy dog eyes but it just throws her facial proportions even more off.

"A personality?" You spit out venously. As if on cue Daphne adds " Some friends maybe?"

Pansy scoffs and turns back to Draco. "I need an owl."

Blaise jumps in, saving Draco "Draco didn't you say we would go buy new quidditch robes today."

"Oh right. Sorry Pansy"

(y/n) starts thinking about her owl, Juniper. Juniper is a streaked brown and white barn owl. Juniper didn't live in the Hogwarts Owlery. Instead she lived at the Deauxville Manor and it was specially trained to take your fathers letters before he could see them. Then Juniper would bring them to you and you would respond to your father's business letters for him. Reading your father's mail had felt uncomfortable at first but you had to remember that you were just trying to save his life’s work.

You watch Daphnee and Millicent blush and Draco clench his jaw. "Ready to go?"

You turn to see Cedric looking a little uncomfortable under the glares that most of the Slytherin boys were giving him. You give him your most reassuring smile.

"Yeah, let's go before my brother kills you."

He holds out his hand to help you up take it, feeling an electric rush pass through your arm as you do. Walking out, it seems that every single person in the Great Hall has their eyes fixed on the couple. Cedric doesn't seem to notice and throws you a chocolate frog. You catch it with ease.

"How do you have so many of these?"

"Easy. I have a box of them with (y/n) written in big red letters on it." He says with a grin as you plop the frog in your mouth.

"So what do you want to do?" Cedric asks while the two of you walk.

"I'm not sure. Let's go have butterbeers."

You're waiting at a booth in the Three Broomsticks while Cedric goes to buy two butterbeers. He hands you a mug full of rich brown liquid.

"Thank you."

"No problem at all" He pulls out a red liquorice wand and snaps it in half. He slides you a piece.

"Cedriccc. First of all where are you getting all these sweets from, second of all licorice is eurgh."

He shakes his head. " No, no, no. See this?" He says holding out the candy.  "This is RED licorice. It's big in the United States, tastes completely different. I want you to try it."

"No please don't make me. I'll throw up on you I swear" You plead.

"Yess"

"Noo"

Yes"

"No"

"Yes"

"Fine!" You finally give in when he flashes you his breathtaking lopsided grin. "You are so stubborn!" You slowly drop the red candy in your mouth. You expect the nauseating taste of molasses to take over but surprisingly all you taste is strawberries.

"Cedric! This is kind of good." You say while chewing. He laughs and your hands brush slightly together as he gives you another piece which makes your cheeks go red.

"So who do you think is gonna be the impartial judge who decides the champions?" You ask quickly hoping to distract him from your embarrassing blushing.

"Eh, maybe the sorting hat?"

"I hope the hat doesn't pick Nick then because he wouldn't last five seconds."

"Come on, give him some credit, he's pretty talented in transfiguration."

"Wouldn't know, we barely talk anymore." Your voice takes a bitter tone.

"Is that why you didn't come to St.Tropez this summer."

"Yeah and I had to take care of family stuff." You say not wanting to look at his face because it would make lying so much harder.

He grabs your hand on the table. "(y/n) I know your dad is sick."

"NICK TOLD YOU?? I'M GONNA KILL HIM HE REALLY IS A USELESS PIECE OF SHIT" You jump up raising your voice, everyone in the bar looking at you. Cedric's face stays calm and compassionate.

"Please calm down, let me explain." He grabs your hand and forces you to sit. "During the summer I found Nick crying by the pool one night. He didn't say much, just that your father was sick and there was no cure. He was really upset and kept mumbling stuff about being a shit brother and such. I'm so sorry. I shouldn't have brought it up. I just wanted you to know that i'm here for you."

Cedric slides closer to you and wraps an arm around your shoulder. You rest your head on him.

"Alzeihmer's" you whisper.

"Pardon?"

"He has Alzeihmer's. He can't even remember my name most days." He wraps his other arm around you, engulfing you in a hug.

"God (y/n). I'm so sorry."

" It's okay, I've become a little bit numb to it all." You breathe in his scent. "Cedric you can't tell anybody okay? Promise me."

"I promise" He whispers and squeezes you tighter.

You stayed like that for a while, it was nice, for once your thoughts seemed to come to a stop as you focused on Cedric's heartbeat.

(y/n) and Cedric walk back to the castle. She has a bag full of candies from Honeydukes and bag with a pair of earrings for Millicent's birthday. He's holding your hand which makes your little heart do backflips in your chest.

"So what happened to your right hand?"

" A blast ended skrewt's ass exploded on me.'

He picks up your other hand and gives it a small kiss. "There. All better."

You try to contain the furious blush dotting your cheeks as you laugh. "You're so cheesy Ced."

"No but seriously I think there's a plant in the Hufflepuff common room that can help with the blisters."

"Whoa watch out for Cedric Diggory, future Mediwizard."

He smirks. "Dr.Diggory does sound pretty nice."

"Well Dr.Diggory how does it feel to have the second nicest common room."

"You're kidding right? Hufflepuff has THE nicest common room. It's next to the kitchens, it has plants, it always smells like cinnamon..." He keeps listing reasons why his common room is the nicest all the way to the castle.

"Unfortunately Cedric" You say standing in front of the entrance to the Slytherin common room. "This still remains the best common room."

Cedric is about to answer but you stop him in his tracks by standing on your tiptoes and kissing him on the cheek.

"Bye Dr.Diggory" You whisper in his ear before slipping inside.

The whole school was buzzing because today was the day that the delegations from Beauxbatons and Durmstrang were arriving. All the Hogwarts students were waiting outside for their grand entrance. Dumbledore smiles and calmly says.

"Aha! Unless I am very much mistaken, the delegation from Beauxbatons approaches!"

"Where?" said many students eagerly, all looking in different directions.

"There!" yelled a sixth year, pointing over the forest.

Something large, much larger than a broomstick — or, indeed, a hundred broomsticks — was hurtling across the deep blue sky toward the castle, growing larger all the time.

"It's a dragon!" shrieked one of the first years, losing her head completely.

"Don't be stupid . . . it's a flying house!" said Dennis Creevey.

When the thing gets closer, you realise that it's an ornate powder blue carriage pulled by a giant winged horse. It comes to a stop and a boy in pale blue robes comes out and pulls out small golden steps. A comically huge woman walks out and greets Dumbledore in a thick accent. (y/n) spots Cedric in the crowd and he waves enthusiastically.

The Black lake starts to bubble and the water separates, a thick brown pole sticks out. A big wooden boat starts emerging from the hole. Durmstrang students start filing out of the boat. They were all muscular and bulky. You take a moment to look at the contrast between the Durmstrang and Beauxbatons students. Ron gasps and jumps up.

"Harry — it's Krum!"

But you don't hear him because in the crowd you've spotted a familiar face in pale blue robes eyeing you. A beautifully creamy face wearing a very hateful expression.

Your cousin Fleur has arrived at Hogwarts.

[blackfemininity]

Introduction to the Black Femininity Series | Part One

"Femininity—also called womanhood—is defined as a set of characteristics, behaviors, and roles generally associated with girls and women. Femininity is made up of both socially defined and biologically created factors. Femininity is an internal expression before it is an external appearance.”

The History of Black Womanhood

The suppression of femininity in black women mainly has its roots in racism, colorism and sexism. The societal circumstances that many black women live in forces them to take on roles out of survival, not choice. Many black women have been conditioned to perceive femininity has weakness so, as a way of protecting themselves, they suppress it. Instead of expressing their femininity, many black women have internalized the stereotypes that society projects on them. An example of this is the “strong, independent black woman” stereotype. This stereotype places pressure on the shoulders of black women to help everyone else while receiving little in return because of the idea that we're strong enough to handle things on our own. This toxic concept of pseudo-strength forces black women to further suppress their true emotions and feelings. When the accumulation of suppressed emotion is finally expressed, we get labeled another stereotype—the “loud, angry black woman”. 

In some cases, the suppression of black femininity is even passed down generationally as black mothers can sometimes suppress their black daughters’ femininity. Many black girls, myself included, weren't allowed to express their femininity during their childhood and adolescence.

Release the weight of this old paradigm.

Allow yourself to be feminine. Let go of the "strong, independent black woman" archetype. You are not obligated to carry this weight on your back. Your identity is not being a bag lady. It is not possible to develop your femininity when you're dragging around stagnant weight. Let it go and build boundaries. Let go of your super-hero complex. Let go of the “obligation” to "save” other people. Set healthy boundaries and focus on yourself. Take care of yourself. Work on yourself. Care about yourself. Know your worth. Be so fully grounded in your self-worth that nothing and no one can take you out of your element. Give yourself the love, attention and care you’ve continuously extended to others. Be self full and fill your own cup. Commit to loving yourself and raise your standards.

Abundance Mindset vs. Scarcity Mindset

An abundance mindset is a mindset of confidence. Thinking abundantly means that you know you have enough and you will always receive. A scarcity mindset, however, is a mindset of lack. Thinking scarcely means that you feel you don’t have enough and you won’t receive. One mode of thinking is based on security and the other mode of thinking is based on insecurity. Society has conditioned us, as black women, to think with scarcity and accept less. To reclaim our femininity, we must cultivate an abundance mindset. 

Thinking abundantly means allowing ourselves to be open and receptive. Receptivity is an aspect of femininity. We must eradicate the “strong, independent black woman” mentality (scarcity mindset) and replace it with a receptivity mentality (abundance mindset). To be open, heal the source of what’s suppressing your femininity. To be receptive, practice accepting compliments, gifts and help with grace. Allow yourself to receive. Believe that you’re worthy of living a life filled with love, peace, respect, opportunity and stability.

The Role of The Media

Brands use the media to culturally appropriate and they often profit from it.

Black outrage is a marketing tactic that brands use to get more views, clicks and exposure. Aspects of black girlhood & womanhood (such as hairstyles, bodily features and style)  get picked apart and repackaged by brands under the guise of cultural appropriation which creates attention. Brands thrive off of any social media attention because its essentially free marketing.

Your attention is an investment. Attention is an important thing because it can condition your mentality. What you see and hear repeatedly eventually become a belief. Your beliefs will motivate the majority of your decisions and ultimately the way you carry yourself in life.

Regulate Your Attention. Ignore anything that may cloud your perception of yourself. Instead, surround yourself with positive images and examples of black womanhood. Block and ignore anyone or anything that tries to suppress your femininity. Clean up your social media of anything that hinders you. Replace it with content that uplifts, motivates and nourishes you. Fill your space and surroundings with what you want to see more of.

[tessatechaitea]

Justice Society of America #7 (1993)

The fantasy: old white men are the heroes. The reality: old white men are the villains.

A Facebook memory from my friend Doom Bunny in 2012 came up today that made me cry. Not sobbing or anything! It just made me feel loved and noticed and, sure, proud of my past self. I'm not good at earnestness so please don't mock me or I'll retreat back into the safety of cynicism and sarcasm!

Doom Bunny might have taken the advice a bit too far.

One of the defining moments in my life that helped shape me into a better, more empathetic person was when I killed a massive wolf spider that had gotten into my room and was headed for my gerbil's cage. I caught it in a huge jar to take outside. The spider was so massive you could hear its fangs clink on the side of the jar. I went to go release it outside and was struck by a sudden terror that it would come back. Not the kind of terror that involves life and death decisions. More like the kind of terror that is just a rush of creepiness and discomfort at the prospect of the spider coming back and crawling on my while I slept. So, you know, not terror. But I treated the uncomfortable feeling like terror and decided I should probably kill the spider. Now, if it had been a small spider, I, like millions of people every day, would have probably crushed it without a thought and gone on with my day. But this spider was massive, probably the size of my palm. It wouldn't be a simple swat and done procedure. I tried filling the jar with some kind of cleaner in the hopes of poisoning it but that didn't work. So then I took a stick or something and began smashing it. It didn't die easily. It struggled and it put up a fight and it took multiple attempts to really smash it while in the jar. And even before I had delivered the killing blow, I knew I had made a terrible mistake. This spider didn't deserve this death. This wasn't a struggle to live. This wasn't part of nature. This spider was struggling against the pettiness of one human individual. The spider's only offense: giving me gooseflesh. But once I'd maimed the spider, I had to finish the onerous job. I cried afterward. I sobbed. I mourned this wretched beast. And maybe that's why Doom Bunny's memory made me cry. But I didn't just kill the spider that day. I killed a part of me. Luckily, it was a part of me that was useless and selfish and a thing I was well rid of. Maybe, as a rational justification to make a bleak act I participated in seem more uplifting, I can take solace in the idea that the spider, in death, was able to rise above its natural station. It was the Jesus Christ of spiders, dying so that so many more spiders could live. Who knows how many hundreds or thousands of spiders survived because of this one? And not only that, it was this sentiment (and seeing a documentary on Japanese "fishing" of dolphins) which turned me into a vegetarian. So the spider not only saved many spiders but many other (arguably higher-tier! Is that bad to suggest?!) creatures. Now, I'm not a vegetarian anymore. I was for about ten years and then got, well, a bit lazy and maybe a little less passionate. I got older and dumber. But I'm not what you'd call a meat-eater! I prefer lentils over steak (which is an easy comment to make because I can't even remember the last time I ate steak. I never really cared for it before I went veggie. The main reason I liked steak as a kid was the steak fries soaked in a little bit of steak juice (you know, blood?)). When I eat meat now, it's usually chicken or turkey. Not great, I know. I probably need to get out there and murder a turkey so I can be reminded how fucking terrible it is to kill something with your own hands. But that's part of it, you know? I'm not against eating meat. But we're going about it all wrong. It's too easy and too harmful. We should probably develop a system where people can only buy live animals and must do the killing and butchering themselves. Of course then only sadists will have the option of a delicious chorizo omelette at breakfast! The point is, yeah, I still eat meat. But I also don't rationalize my eating of it! I'm wrong in doing so. It's better for the world if humans, who have a choice in the matter being sentient and rational beings, would choose to stop. I try not to eat it much but that's just a little bit of a little thing and it doesn't make me "less wrong." I'm still just wrong. And I'm tired. And I'm old enough to hope the younger generations do better while I just get the fuck out of the way. Who are all these old people fighting change?! Why do they need to get so worked up about a world they're not going to be part of for much longer?! Let it go already! Especially old people with loads of money. I don't get how they still need to be angry about everything! You're set, you dolt! If you don't want to participate, go live in your vacation house and don't participate. But certainly don't actively try to hamper change! Christ, you're just obstinate dumb ass fools! Did I rant enough against old rich guys to distract from the fact that I had some turkey tacos for lunch? I hope so! Anyway, I guess the rant about old people hurting the world is a good enough segue back into this comic book about old people hurting the world. Not that the JSA is actively hurting the world! But their old man foes certainly are! Plus, I understand if you're old and powerful and rich and immortal, how you'd continue to fight change. But then again, if you're immortal and you've seen how you can never fight change, generation after generation, perhaps by continuing to fight against change, you're just showing how stupid you are? The JSA might not be actively hurting the world but it's still troubling that they think they need to be an active part of it. Just retire already and let the young heroes take over! Maybe, as Alan and Jay wanted at the beginning, stay accessible as mentors. But don't be dicks trying to push your old timey beliefs onto the young heroes' new and modern attitudes! Especially the ones that are sex positive and enjoy showing a lot of skin in their choice of costumes. Hooray for change!

Enough with being earnest! Let's now pretend her dad's advice was sexual in nature!

Jesse wanders into a part of the island that's off limits and after being attacked by guards trying to detain her for trespassing, she decides she now has a right to trespass. That's how law works, right? If I'm falsely accused of murder, I get to do one free murder! Ted Grant has been taken into custody by the Bahdnesian government because he interrupted a boxing match and beat the crap out of one of the fighters. Just because somebody is in a ring boxing doesn't mean anybody can enter the ring and start punching them. That's assault and I'm all for Ted Grant being arrested. Asshole thinks he can do whatever he wants just because he thinks of himself as a hero. Well, no more, old white man! There are consequences to your actions now!

The Atom doesn't think it's wrong to interfere in another country's arrest of a foreign national assaulting one of their own. No, what would be wrong is exposing the Justice Society of America's plans to infiltrate and spy on this nation.

The Atom rushes off to tell Alan and Jay about Ted being kidnapped. They heard Ted was injured and taken off for treatment which is a lie. Al tells them the truth but tries to make it sound like it was unjust. "Ted walloped some creep in the boxing ring and the guards dragged him away." Yeah. Of course they did! Ted wasn't supposed to be in the ring! IT WAS FUCKING ASSAULT! By the end, when we learn that the nation's king or manager or president, St. Germaine, is some villainous creep, all of the Justice Society's actions will be justified. But I want to point out that they have no justification for anything but observing right now! It's like that time in Star Trek: The Next Generation when one of the Captains of a Federation starship begins blowing up Cardassian science stations and supply vessels. They might have been up to no good but there was no proof! Picard does the right thing, in the end, by arresting the captain. Sure, the asshole captain was almost certainly right about the Cardassians being up to no good. But there was no proof! You can't just blow Cardassians up or disappear people from the streets of Portland simply because you suspect them of being up to no good. Fucking assholes. Jesse Quick runs into Doctor Mid-Nite who has found the Bahdnesians and a whole lot of other islanders as well. They're locked in cages underground because they're too sick or infirm to work in the tourist trap topside. So I guess the Justice Society of America has a right to start tearing this nation down. I guess. They're just lucky their instincts were so dead on or else Ted Grant's temper would have started an international incident with a happy-go-lucky nation. Doctor Mid-Nite has a plan to free the people from their cages.

It's not like she can, you know, run at super speed to do the same thing that distracting them with her tits did.

If The Flash had run into Doctor Mid-Nite, would the plan have been for Jay to strut out from the dark with his balls hanging out? Although it was a terrible and unnecessary plan, it might be one of my favorite bits because now I know Liberty Belle loved flashing her tits for justice. Johnny Thunder goes on a day trip to the place he first got his Thunderbolt genie. He discovers that after he left the island with their genie, the entire place fell apart. See, now that's appropriating a culture! Being white and selling burritos out of a burrito cart is just called having a job. The rest of the Justice Society just hangs out until they can hear from Doctor Mid-Nite. That doesn't happen until he interrupts St. Germain's speech about how great and beautiful and the best his island nation of Bahdnesia is.

Oh! The days when you could describe a terrible country treating its people in the worst ways imaginable and the first thing you would think of is Nazi Germany instead of present-day America!

St. Germain's plan was to create a sham utopia and then find a job as a consultant with other governments. After he was offered a job, he would blow a nuclear weapon in the volcano and destroy the place. But when the Justice Society appears, he throws his plan out the window and yells, in front of everybody at his press conference slash job interview, "I've got a bomb in the volcano and I'll blow up the entire island!" So I guess that's his reputation blown! Like the guy in The Dead Zone who uses the kid as a human shield and ruins his entire political career! Sort of. Anyway, that's a thing I just remembered that seemed somewhat like what just happened here, so it felt like a smart thing to add. During the tussle, Ted Grant knocks the detonator out of St. Germain's hands and it sets off the bomb. The volcano explodes but it doesn't destroy the island until the Justice Society can completely evacuate it. St. Germain just looks on and shouts, "My utopia!" That guy might need to get his head straight to decide what he really wants out of life. A utopia? A consulting job? Revenge on the Justice Society? In the end, Thunderbolt reveals that the only actual Bahdnesian left is Kiku, the young girl who has become Johnny Thunder's sidekick. So I guess that's the mystery solved that could have been solved two issues ago if Johnny had just thought to ask Thunderbolt one simple and direct question. Justice Society of America #7 Rating: B-. St. Germaine was yet another immortal guy who was once a Nazi. I think there's some legendary St. Germaine that's supposed to be immortal or something but I'm too hot and uncomfortable in my office to do any research about it right now. There's a similar character in Warren Ellis's Castlevania on Netflix. And, no, I don't want to discuss Warren Ellis. I don't actually want to disucss the Justice Society of America either! At least I only have three more issues to go!

[artificialqueens]

Withstanding The Test Of Time Ch6 - Shalaska - pureCAMP

A/N - Yes it has been a long time and yes, I’m still writing all my fics! Hang in there, any old fans, I haven’t given up on you.

Last time: Sharon and Alaska had a fight on the way home from the party, and Sharon was given an opportunity to express her views.

This time: Wait and see…

When a society is on the precipice, moments away from falling off the edge, it is nearly impossible to tell. Any act of defiance - any protest, any argument, any kind of resistance against the social norms - any of them could be the proverbial straw on the camel’s back, the tipping point that throws everything into chaos. Sometimes it can be a call for change, a new leader, a shift in the ways of thinking. 

Sometimes, it can be something as innocuous as an article, written by a newly-promoted journalist, desperate to use her degree and have her voice heard all at once. Sometimes, it can be as little as one woman’s fury to send the media into a frenzy.

That’s right. I didn’t want to get married. In fact, I was pretty much dragged to the registry office kicking and screaming, for all I didn’t want to be there. My childhood plan, to run away with my best friend and live as a fugitive for as long as possible, never came into fruition. I kept tape over the accusing numbers on my arm, and when the name appeared and I had to face facts, I did so with my own mortality at the very back of my mind. When a car wasn’t enough to finish me off, I knew a marriage to someone I didn’t even know definitely would be.

Alaska had gone to work before Sharon left the house, as usual. She had a habit of eating a disgustingly healthy breakfast and then going for a run before changing at the office, so the two had very little interaction within their shared home. It was better that way, Sharon mused. To live like distant flatmates, rather than actual married women. 

It had been a very slow morning after the whirlwind of Alaska disappeared through the front door. Sharon dragged herself up for a sleepy shower, did her best to make her face presentable if nothing else, and had left for work after possibly the slowest bowl of cereal she’d ever eaten.

Even the lingering grey clouds above her were dull. The world seemed to move in slow-motion, everything listless and unimportant. Despite the dreary weather, it was a little too warm for the long sleeves Sharon had opted for, but she shrugged her shoulders and tried to pretend that she wasn’t overheating on the way to the office. It was always freezing in there anyway, and she much preferred to sit and be too warm than to advertise the name of her wife to the world around her.

Just as she got to the lift, praying for a somewhat quiet morning, a familiar face appeared. Sharon reminded herself at the very least that it wasn’t one of the bitches, so she couldn’t be rude.

“Morning, superstar!” Sasha greeted, her mane of hair fluffed and curled messily around her shoulders. Her eyes were glittering with excitement, and she seemed to bounce as though she couldn’t keep all her energy in. 

“Uh, morning, Sash.” Sharon replied, still half-asleep. She was sure that at some point that morning, in an attempt to keep from falling back asleep, she had blinked too hard and smudged mascara everywhere. Hoping that wasn’t the case, she rubbed gingerly beneath her eyes and tried to muster a little more enthusiasm to match her friend’s, at the very least.

Sasha didn’t seem perturbed. “How are you feeling this morning, huh?”

“Tired?” Sharon suggested, growing confused. “I don’t get what the purpose of this interrogation is.”

All of a sudden, Sasha’s eyes grew wide and, if possible, even brighter. She seemed to be completely unsure of what to do with herself. Shrugging, Sharon walked a nearly-speechless Sasha to their desks. Her friend didn’t regain the ability to speak until she had thrown herself into her chair with a loud sigh.

“Have you… you haven’t been online this morning, have you?” Sasha’s tone was leading into something, but Sharon had no idea what it was. She shook her head. “Okay, um… Go on Twitter, I guess that’s probably the best place to go. I’m surprised your phone hasn’t blown up yet.”

Still baffled but choosing to trust Sasha’s judgement, Sharon pulled out her phone and tapped impatiently, waiting for it to respond to her touch. Before she could even reach for the Twitter app, however, she had accidentally tapped on one of the rapidfire notifications that were appearing at a seizure-inducing rate at the top of her screen. As it materialised and grew large on her screen, she did a double-take.

‘Stupid fucking liberal cunt, doesn’t know what the fuck she’s saying DO YOU @sharon_needles!! People like you who claim that soulmate love isn’t real should be EXECUTED! DISGUSTING!’

She blanched, not at all hurt by the bizarre statement but completely dumbfounded at its existence. As far as she was aware, Sharon didn’t know a @BillDewinski1956, let alone tweet anything that would catch his attention. At her expression, Sasha grabbed her phone and then gasped.

“Jesus! Some people are so charming, aren’t they… But I mean this! This is what you need to see.”

She handed the phone back on the list of trending news. The list was as she expected; something about the President’s latest fuck up, some viral tweet about girly movies, a singer making an apology for something dumb. But the banner at the very top was what caught her eye - a photograph of herself.

Media  .  16 hours ago

Controversial ‘timers’ article divides the internet with an unheard perspective on the law

97k people are tweeting about this

As soon as the words registered in her mind, Sharon’s stomach twisted into knots. She wasn’t sure if it was a pleasant sensation or not; all she knew was that her heart was hammering in her chest, her mind was racing, and she didn’t have a single idea what she was supposed to think.

Did this mean she was successful? Did this mean she was going to get fired? As disgusting as some of the replies to the article were, people were definitely interested. At least half of the responses seemed somewhat supportive of her - Sharon scrolled through replies of people who said they had cried when realising they weren’t the only ones, or explained how they’d managed to get past it, or simply commented that she had opened their minds to something they hadn’t considered before.

For the first time in her life, Sharon’s anger was powerful. For the first time, she had the power to influence how people thought and how people felt, and it was a very strange power to possess.

“Well?” Sasha prompted, pulling Sharon out of her introspective silence.

“Well…” Sharon answered, not nearly as eloquent in person as she was in writing. “Shit. That’s all I have to say.”

Sasha was practically beaming, and despite all the confusion and conflicting emotions Sharon felt about the whole situation, her friend’s glowing pride made her feel incredibly uplifted. It was rare that Sharon ever felt so supported and cared for.

“I always knew you would take the world by storm once they let you.” She praised, Sharon waving her off so that she didn’t end up blushing unattractively. “The website is down this morning so there’s not much we can do until maintenance fix it. Too much traffic from everyone trying all at once to read your article. You really swept everyone off their feet.”

Sharon shook her head, unable to accept the compliments. Sure, she’d caused a stir, but controversy always did. It wasn’t like they were praising how it was written, or the language and composition of the piece… no, had it been the usual lovey-dovey drip of an article about timers, no one would bat an eyelid. It was controversy, not skill, that had brought her notoriety.

“Trinity isn’t in this morning, but Peppermint wants to see you.” Sasha finished gently, noticing the slight embarrassment she’d caused. “No doubt to assign you another task to blow out of the water.”

For the first time since entering her job as an underpaid intern, nobody yelled, clicked at, or insulted Sharon as she walked through the office. No one demanded a coffee, or sent a scathing look in her direction. In fact, not a single head turned in her direction at all - possibly the closest thing she could get to a success.

Peppermint, or Agnes, as Sharon supposed she should call her, was the more forgiving of her two bosses, and as she made her way towards her office she prayed that nothing bad was going to happen. After all, she knew they couldn’t fire her for how the article was written, as she had taken the time to ensure it all made sense, but that didn’t mean her audacity couldn’t be the reason she got fired. As much as was her own thoughts, the content was a little outrageous given how few companies were willing to give platforms to voices like hers.

Thankfully, she was greeted with a smile. “Ah! Morning, Sharon. Just thought we could have a chat about that little article of yours.”

Oh god. Here it came. The pointed smile, the cold eyes, the flat tone of voice as she was told that they had taken a gamble on promoting her and it was clearly the wrong decision to make, and that she would need to be fired completely to avoid the humiliation of a demotion and for the good of the company overall, and she would have to rescind her article along with a grovelling apology for daring to be so forthright with her opinions in a society that didn’t want to hear them-

Agnes leaned forwards. “I loved it.”

Sharon was so taken aback, she nearly fell right off her chair. “I- What?”

“Look, Sharon…” She admitted, her voice low. “I’m a trans woman, I know all about causing a stir. There’s bigoted people out there who say I don’t deserve everything I have, simply because I transitioned. So even if we disagree, I want you to do more of this. Share your voice. Angry women change the world, and I can see you have some fire in you.”

Never in her life had Sharon expected to be praised for her boldness. It was something that people in her life had always endeavoured to change about her; the conviction with which she held her beliefs was dangerous. But someone, for the first time in what felt like forever, was encouraging her. Someone, even if it was Agnes alone, believed that what Sharon had to say was valuable, and wasn’t trying to silence her voice.

It was a strange feeling.

She wandered back to her desk in a daze, baffled enough by the meeting and sudden influx of attention that she felt slightly light-headed. Ignoring the swathe of notifications still flooding her phone from all apps, she opened her Twitter once more and decidedly, absently, to briefly address it and then move on. After all, she had more controversy to cause.

Sharon Needles - @sharon_needles

Angry women change the world ..

“She wants more.”

Sasha blinked. “Huh?”

Sharon shook her head, trying to mentally pull herself together and wrench her mind away from the absolute chaos she had somehow managed to cause. She switched her phone off, overwhelmed by the constant notifications, and wheeled her chair around to properly look at Sasha with a little more clarity.

“Peppermint… Agnes… whatever… She wants more from me. She wants me to keep doing what I’m doing, and not issue an apology, and I’m not fired, I don’t have to clear my things…” Sharon muttered, mostly to herself. “She- She wants to keep me here?”

Practically squealing, Sasha kicked the desk and propelled herself backwards in her chair, spinning gleefully. Her enthusiasm was strangely contagious, and within a couple of seconds, Sharon felt the same unbridled happiness bubbling up inside her. It was utterly euphoric.

“I didn’t get fired!”

“You didn’t get fucking fired!” Sasha repeated, her eyes squeezed shut in excitement. She had shuffled her way over to Sharon, and begun spinning her chair so that the both of them were racing round in circles, giddy and giggling.

Sharon laughed at the absurdity of it all - spinning around in her desk chair at work, rapidly promoted, a sudden success in a short amount of time. It was as if her luck was finally beginning to balance out, the bad making way for the good to start shining through.

“Okay, I… I need to start my next one. Or plan it. Or do something, I don’t know.” She babbled, skidding to a halt back at her desk and fumbling with the keyboard. “There’s so much I could touch on… God. I finally get to use my degree, huh?”

Sasha winked at her, the pride emanating from her bright eyes. “Get writing, bitch. Go and knock ‘em dead now that they’re all listening. I know you can do it.”

Now that was something she’d never tire of hearing, something new to her ears and like music every single time. People - a select few, but a rapidly increasing amount - believed in her.

The rest of the day passed in a blur of writing, planning and numbing excitement. It was no secret that Sharon had a lot to say, and she had been trying for years to get people to listen to her. All the protests, the arrests, the candid photographs of a young teenager with a sign in her hands, desperate for some kind of change to protect her from the uncertain future that gave her nightmares… they had to be worth something. Sharon had a voice now, and she couldn’t throw it away.

Time seemed to escape her, each second sliced away by the rapid clicking of keys beneath her fingers. There was so much to be said, so much to do, and before long, Sasha’s hand was gently shaking Sharon’s shoulder, wrenching her from her writing-induced stupor. It was beginning to darken outside, and the majority of the office were leaving or had already left.

“Fuck,” Sharon hissed, stretching and wincing slightly at the cracking of her bones. “I’m gonna go blind if I look at that screen for any longer. Thanks, Sash.”

Sasha smiled kindly. “Anytime. You’re doing great, just make sure you don’t burn yourself out. Try to relax tonight, yeah? Just take it easy, chill a little. I’d invite you over for drinks to celebrate, but I can imagine you’re exhausted.”

Her mood lifted from such a productive, surprising day, Sharon found herself in higher spirits than she expected. “Aww, maybe I’ll come see you and Shea tomorrow. You’re right, though, I think I need a night in to just relax and be by myself. And maybe mute my Twitter, seeing how crazy it was earlier.”

Her friend laughed appreciatively. “I’ll get some red wine in for the weekend, you’re welcome to come over anytime. Now get out of here, freak. Go home.”

Absent-mindedly, Sharon wondered if her slightly later-than-usual exit from work meant that she could claim for a little bit of overtime, or if it would affect which bus she got home on. The elevator music provided the perfect mindless background music for her thoughts, her brain having checked out of work-mode the moment she logged off her computer. As it dinged, the little noise always sounding before Sharon expected it to and making her jump, she walked out into the car park and started towards the bus station. Then she stopped.

Alaska’s car was parked next to Sasha’s, which was quickly pulling away. She was sitting behind the wheel, her arms folded across her chest, her eyes staring straight forward. When she spotted Sharon, her gaze only lingered for half a second before she turned away again, her expression completely, eerily blank. Somewhat apprehensive, Sharon approached.

The car window rolled down. “Alaska?”

“Thought you might want picking up. The buses around here aren’t very safe.”

Sharon lingered awkwardly. On the one hand, she didn’t really feel like spending time with Alaska, given the tension between them that seemed as though it would never go away. A fucking soulmate marriage counsellor, after all, and a fierce anti-timer law advocate, were hardly a match made in Heaven. On the other hand, Sharon had witnessed her fair share of bloody fights and drunk, leery men on her bus rides home.

Reluctantly, she opened the door and got into the passenger seat, glancing furtively at Alaska before lowering her gaze. This was weird - everything about all of their interactions was weird. At least this time, she supposed, Alaska wasn’t begging Sharon to like her. She just started the car without a word.

They drove in silence for a few excruciating minutes. Sharon didn’t usually mind awkward silences - she was usually the cause of them, after all, and would relish in the suffocating misery and discomfort that followed. But this silence wasn’t her own doing, and all of it sudden it wasn’t so nice to get a taste of her own medicine. She flexed her hands, unsure of what to do with herself, as Alaska sat rigid and drove seemingly without blinking. In a last-ditch attempt to break the tension, Sharon reached out toward the radio.

“It doesn’t work.” Alaska told her. “Don’t bother.”

“Oh.” Sharon stopped in her tracks, slowly retracting her hand. “Okay. Sorry.”

Alaska shrugged, barely. “It’s fine.”

They lapsed into silence again. This wasn’t right; Sharon was the one to sit and make others feel weird and strange, not Alaska. Her wife was supposed to be the one who wanted approval, not Sharon. The loss of power was unsettling.

When they came across a queue at a traffic light, Alaska huffed out a breath, as though she was irritated about something. “Want to get something to eat before we go home?” She asked, rather curtly. 

Her tone of voice knocked Sharon for six. It took a few moments for her to register the words, let alone come up with a response. “Uhh, no. Let’s just go.”

It seemed Alaska wasn’t having it. “Well, I think we should celebrate. There’s a good Thai place down this street, it has lots of vegan options too.”

Out of everything, the weirdest part was Alaska’s cold exterior. Sharon had to admit, begrudgingly, that as much as she didn’t like Alaska, she was always inviting and kind and willing to give a second (or third, or fourth, or fifth, or sixth) chance. She always offered little acts of kindness that Sharon turned down, her good intentions clear all the time. But this… whilst her words seemed kind, the chilling voice with which she spoke them were anything but.

“I don’t want anything, I just want to go home.” Sharon shot back.

“Or there’s a good pizza place, too.” Alaska ignored her. “Pretty cheap, but the garlic bread is super good. Special occasions call for special dinners, I think. We should celebrate your success at the very least. It’s only a ten minute drive extra from home.”

Sharon scowled, growing more annoyed by the second. “Why the fuck are you being nice? Shut up, fucking hell.”

Alaska snorted derisively. “The question is, why aren’t you being nice? You don’t have to be a cunt all the time, you know that, right?”

“I didn’t ask for you to fucking pick me up and start trying to buy dinner when all I want to do is get home and be on my own!” Sharon exploded. “Like fuck, girl, take a fucking hint! I can make my own goddamn way home!”

Alaska slammed on her brakes as the traffic came to yet another stop, jolting them both forward. “Why don’t you then, huh? Get out of my fucking car and walk home if you hate it so much. Go on, hurry up.”

Sharon recoiled, as though she’d been slapped. “What the fuck?”

“You heard me!” Alaska seethed. “Get out now while it’s not moving, or else I’ll fucking push you out whilst I’m driving. I’m sick of you, I’m fucking sick of you, and I don’t want to deal with your ass anymore. Get out of my car.”

The light turned amber.

“Gladly.” Sharon opened the door and slammed it shut, just in time. Alaska sped off as the light turned green, leaving Sharon in her dust.

It took a minute for everything to connect in Sharon’s head. What the fuck had just happened? Alaska had snapped. Everything that Sharon had done to torment her and make her life difficult had worked, and it had culminated in a burst of anger, which was exactly what she wanted - tangible proof that the soulmate business was a load of shit, and they just weren’t meant to be.

And yet… why did it feel so awful? Sharon walked faster than she thought she ever had before, her furious strides rivalling that of a yoga mom in a park. A mixture of rage and… was that guilt? wrestled in the pit of her stomach, festering and bubbling in a way that made her nauseous. This was exactly what she wanted, after all, for Alaska to stop fucking trying and accept that, no matter what, Sharon was never going to love her.

It seemed that her anger and hurt weren’t quite linked, and she couldn’t work out where they were coming from.

It was surprisingly cathartic to walk home in the brisk cold, the weather cooling off her angry heat as she walked the rest of the journey home. She had almost gotten over it completely when Alaska’s home came into view - and everything seemed to reignite at just the sight of it. No doubt Alaska had slammed the front door and stormed inside, judging by her haphazard parking job.

She pounded on the front door and waited. Of course, today had to be the day she forgot her key.

It swung open almost violently, revealing a pissed-off Alaska. “Oh, it’s you. I was hoping it was going to be a door-to-door serial killer. I should be so fucking lucky.”

Sharon shook her head in disbelief. “Okay, what the fuck is your problem? 

“My problem?” Alaska asked indignantly. “No, this isn’t my problem, Sharon, this is yours.” She all but yanked Sharon inside, shutting the door with an almighty bang and beginning to pace up and down the corridor. “You’re the one with the issues, and I’m tired of being nice to you only to get treated like shit in response. Willam told me to be patient with you, and fuck, I’ve tried, but you’re giving me nothing and I’ve had enough. So what, please tell me, did I fucking to do you?!”

Fuming again, Sharon shrugged off her coat and stormed into the kitchen, Alaska hot on her heels. She could practically see the steam coming out of her reddened ears.

“What the fuck are you talking about, Alaska? I don’t have time for your stupid games.”

Alaska almost growled. “You! I’m talking about you, Sharon, and how you seem to have no fucking regard for other people. I don’t care if you don’t like the laws about timers because fuck, tons of people don’t, and they’re fucking excessive and I understand that. Hate the system all you fucking want, but don’t take your anger out on me when I did nothing to you. I’ve done everything I can to make you comfortable here and then you- you-”

Sharon stood still and seethed, listening to Alaska’s rant with her jaw clenched. “Communication is key for a healthy marriage, you of all people should know that. Get to the fucking point.”

“I’M GETTING THERE!” Alaska screamed, and the force of her shout shocked Sharon into silence. Her face was distraught, pulled tight with fury and rage that seemed entirely uncharacteristic for someone like her. She was rational, collected, measured - someone who was pragmatic and logical. She didn’t just explode in emotional outbursts, or at least, Sharon had never thought she would.

“All I want to know,” She breathed, her tone dangerously calm, “Is what I did to make you hate me, and what I can do to make you like me. Because this- this-”

She held up her phone, the screen flashing in Sharon’s face - a screenshot of her newly-viral article. 

“I don’t know what the fuck I did to deserve this, okay?!”

Sharon rolled her eyes. “Oh please. I had the freedom to write about what I wanted, and so I wrote about what no one gets to hear, because sycophantic bitches like you who love the taste of government boots sit here all day and tell us how wonderful it is that we’re forced into marriages! Well, fucking newsflash, I don’t think that!”

“And you’ve made it quite fucking clear, from the day I met you!” Alaska cut in. “But for one fucking second, did you think about how this would affect me? How this would humiliate me?”

Tears were beginning to gather in the corners of Alaska’s eyes - hot, angry tears, threatening to spill over her scarlet cheeks and flared nostrils. In the midst of their blazing argument, seemingly a battle of attrition with hurled insults as their ammunition, Sharon started to feel… bad.

“What do you mean? It’s not like I fucking named you. You don’t need to be so sensitive.” She cursed.

Alaska shook her head, and Sharon sensed that if she pushed her any further, she would explode like a grenade. “I have been ridiculed all day - by my co-workers, even by my fucking clients. I walked into work with your name visible on my arm, so everyone knows that the Sharon Needles who wrote the scathing article is the same one that I’m married to.”

As she ranted, tears spilling over, Alaska kicked off her heels, ignoring how they flew across the room and likely damaged something of hers. The resulting clatter seemed to only exacerbate her fury.

“I’m a marriage counsellor, Sharon.” She stressed, leaning over the worktop. “My entire livelihood is helping people come to terms with their relationships and live out long, happy lives together in whatever way suits them best. All fucking day, I’ve had people laughing and sneering in my face, my own fucking clients telling me that if I can’t fix my own marriage, how the hell am I supposed to fix theirs?”

She swiped away her tears in a vicious motion. “Humiliated and ridiculed, all fucking day, because you made your goddamn think-piece into more of an attack on me than you did an attack on the system that you’re actually mad at. I just- I can’t take this anymore, Sharon.”

With mounting guilt, Sharon mustered as much disdain into her voice as she could. “Can’t take what? Enlighten me.”

“You!” Alaska’s eyes were shining, her chest heaving with the effort of yelling and crying all at once. “You’re spiteful, you’re mean, you’re bitter and nasty and cruel and I have noidea why that is, but I wish I fucking knew so I could something, anything! I’m not asking you to love me, Sharon, because I don’t think you have it in you to love. I’m just - fuck, I’m asking you to try and not be a cunt all the time because maybe if we could be respectful to each other, something could grow out of that. We could be friends. But you’re just fucking horrible.”

A thousand insults sprang to the forefront of Sharon’s mind, her brain working overtime to provide her with harsh, cutting remarks that could stop Alaska in her tracks and effectively win the argument. Each and every one of them halted at her tongue, disappeared, and Sharon deflated.

“I know.”

Alaska faltered. “You- what?”

“I’m a horrible, terrible person, Alaska. I don’t think about anyone else because the only person I can rely on is me, I don’t fucking want anybody else. A soulmate goes against absolutely everything that I stand for as a person.” Sharon found herself suddenly bearing her soul in front of her furious wife, more vulnerable than she had felt in a long time. “I should’ve thought about what this would all mean for you. But I don’t think about others, ever. I get hurt when I think about others.”

Little tear droplets clung to Alaska’s eyelashes, clumping them together as she regarded Sharon with a gaze far gentler than her previously stony glare. All at once, her anger seemed to dissipate.

“I’m never gonna hurt you, Sharon. At the end of all of this fucked up shit, I’ve got your back. I’m your soulmate.”

Sharon shook her head, faster than she meant to. “There’s no such thing.”

Alaska softened. “I read that true hatred can only come from something you once loved. I don’t know if that’s true, but-”

“I don’t want to get into it.” Sharon answered, quietly. “Can I just apologise and try and be better?”

Biting her lip, Alaska nodded infinitesimally and sighed. “Yeah… But if something’s hurting you, and I can help-”

“I can’t talk about it.” Sharon replied curtly, then apologised. “Sorry. I just… I can’t.”

“That’s okay.” Alaska promised, her teary eyes suddenly holding tender sadness in the place of her former rage. “Do you… Can I give you a hug? Just to… consolidate a truce, I guess, and give you a little bit of comfort.”

The words got stuck in Sharon’s throat, but it didn’t end up mattering. At the slightest inclination of her head, Alaska rushed forwards and wrapped her arms around Sharon, the both of them melting against one another in a moment of sheer exhaustion and weakness. There were tears beginning to well up in Sharon’s eyes, too, but she did her best to blink them away, determined not to cry in Alaska’s embrace.

It was nice… nicer than she’d expected. Alaska was warm, and welcoming, and at heart she was a good, loving person. Sharon was selfish and rude and petulant and she didn’t deserve the love, let alone the friendship, of someone like Alaska. But something about the tightness with which Alaska held onto Sharon told her that, somehow, this was someone who would give her infinite chances. Alaska had never waited for Sharon to fuck up, not like everyone else. She had gotten angry, and then her angry had been pushed aside completely in favour of a sweet embrace.

It felt so good to be held by someone. Sharon lifted her own arms to squeeze Alaska and buried her face, hoping that her wife couldn’t tell that she had started sobbing.

[andmynewlymeltedheart]

write natasha realizing she's in love with pierre

@transpierre would DIE for you mal

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Natasha sat alone, wrapped in a down blanket she had dragged into the drawing room some hours before. It was an unearthly hour-- not even the servants of the house, whose work often dragged on well after she retired for the evening, were stirring now. She tugged from a pile a few small logs that had been brought in that morning and kindled a fire for herself, something her parents told her countesses didn’t do but that it was what good Russian girls with good Russian families learned in secret when their good Russian families happened to know this sort of thing. Pride pushed forward for a moment, emanating from deep within her and pulled upward just beneath the center of her chest, thrust there by memories of her uncle teaching her the Barynya, clapping loudly and over and over proclaiming in his booming tenor voice “kazach'ya grafinya!” And that was how she always felt. A cossack countess-- refined and poised and elegantly dressed full of life and fight and passion and

A shiver shifted from the nape of her neck and down her spine, radiating slightly outwards and raising the hair on her arms in small goosebumps that diminished somewhat as she ran her soft hands over them. She had been all those things once, she was certain. But now… she wasn’t so sure. So much of her had been stolen away in pieces and moments throughout the past few years. Nikolai had been gone too long, in body and in words. She hadn’t heard from him in weeks, and her concern exhausted her and her anxieties pooled in the middle of her stomach, swirling now in again in thoughts of grave injury and death. Anatole… had taken away trust. She was cautious now; not fearful but rather much more capable of understanding just what a person wants by looking, really looking into their eyes. She had come to learn that everyone’s true intentions lived in how they held their gaze on another. She looked back on her memories of Anatole’s stare that first night all that time ago, a night in which she saw intrigue and mystery and what she thought might be blossoming love, but (she realized now) how tragically she misunderstood the hunger of a predator’s gaze. With Petya… she didn’t dwell on how much of her heart was lost with him. But, equally devastating, she thought, was that with Andrei went her optimism and cheerfulness and faith in happy endings. She felt keenly how cruelly the universe had rebuked her by giving her back her first love, to have him offer her forgiveness for her foolish misdeeds in a final moment of quiet, steadfast, true love, and then to take him again in a noiseless and violent end.

She saw herself as a shadow of who she had once been. She felt cold, though not from the winter that seeped upward through the old wooden floorboards of the house she now found herself in, catching her toes and forcing her to pull her legs up on the chaise and underneath her. This cold lived in her now, seeped into her bones and into her spirit and threatened chronic bitterness that would cloud the rest of her days with gray memories of wonderful things passed away from her life.

She felt the darkness threatening to overtake her, and so she decided to pull back the pieces she still had left of herself in thoughts of her father, her mother, her cousin, her father, her mother, her cousin, her father, her mother, her cousin and

Pierre.

Pierre Bezukhov. Always regarded in the lowest of opinions by those whose thoughts should matter but never really did.

But Natasha…. Natasha thought the world of him.

He was kind, truly kind in a society where kindness was only ever employed to leverage status and favors or to gather information. He was strong of heart, even when his will faltered, and he always tried to do right by those he felt affection or reverence for. He was often said to be silly or stupid, but in him Natasha saw a brilliant mind shut away by cruel words or flustered stares-- after all, his conversation was often stirring and provocative, and society conversation was never meant to be more than light patter or petty gossip. His appearance was often mocked, something that had always caused anger to rise and bleed into Natasha’s pretty features, but which especially did so as she sat alone in the room, and she noticed herself clenching her fists without meaning to.

It was certain that he could be unkempt and disheveled, his glasses were often askew on his nose, and some taunted his thickset body, but Natasha always rather liked the way he looked. She found the nervous way he shifted his coats and how often he had to push his glasses back up to the hook of his nose to be an incredibly endearing thing, and often thought that his ruffled hair suited his rosy cheeks-- it made him look youthful and robust. His body, however, was something indescribable to her. It was the source (much to her chagrin) of a series of thoughts that had entered her mind suddenly at functions and in sleepless nights throughout more recent years, the nature of which caused her to blush a deep rouge, even now.

But she cherished him most of all for the friendship he had always given her. His belief in her goodness, his uplifting words in times when her own thoughts told her how wretched she was, his laughter at offhanded jokes or heavy handed compliments that she directed at him only half doused in flippance. She treasured his company, and yearned for it in the still solemnity of the dimly lit parlour.

She imagined him walking through the doors for one of their afternoon talks over cakes and tea, which were sometimes about how he conducted business, sometimes about Natasha’s family, and which sometimes were about grand politics and wars and social injustices. She thought of him jamming his arm a little as he tried to make it through the thin jam unscathed, her rising swiftly to comfort him, and him kissing her hand before it could reach his arm.

She took in a sharp breath at the thought of his lips on her skin.

Pierre’s lips, to the naked eye, were nothing special. But Natasha, for reasons she attributed to the keenness of an artists’ eye, had always found them a fascinating study. They were not thin, but he often pressed them in a line when he was thinking very hard, and he thought very hard very often. But when his expression softened, they were different...fuller. The top lip dipped in a cupids bow just a little off center, leaving the left side a little larger than the right, but in a way that Natasha felt made his smile delightfully crooked. His bottom lip was fuller, lighter on the edges but a deep pink towards the center. There was a scar on it that cut from just right of center down to the crook of his chin, and disappeared when he bit his lower lip (a habit he had picked up when confused, curious, fascinated, or entranced.) His mouth moved handsomely, and occasionally he shifted his jaw to one side and then the other when he couldn’t quite gather a thought. But best of all was that when he fought one of his lovely smiles, his lips pulled together and pursed in a way that seemed to Natasha like a kiss tossed into the air… or to her.

And she realized she felt a little warmer.

And that warmth pooled in over the anxiety collected deep within her and permeated her marrow, and she felt that warmth flood her toes and her ears and her neck until suddenly she felt as though it were the loveliest spring night anyone in Russia had seen in decades. And she felt her old self return to her body, to her home for just a moment, and that old self greeted the woman she had become, and embraced her and told her that she had things to examine.

Air escaped her for a moment, and Natasha pulled in a long, shuddering breath. A breath that carried something that she didn’t know was inside her but which had been with her since she-didn’t- know- when.

There are times that love, in the great novels and oral traditions, is described as coming on passionately and suddenly, that lust sparks it and that flames burn brightly and that intensity doesn’t fade. It comes from nothing and builds on nothing but magically, spectacularly, it never dies. Natasha had thought fondly of a great romance such as this for some of her youth and wondered often when it might be that she would be swept off her feet.

But Natasha had never thought about a grand romance built on actually knowing a person. She never thought of the idea of a courtship built cautiously and carefully over the keys of a piano forte, long nimble fingers guiding their clumsy albeit persevering partners through a simple melody. She never considered the passion shown in support, in kind words and gentle touches of the hand, in comforting embraces, in strands of hair detached from tear stained cheeks and tucked back in place with tenderness and care, in a lingering, consoling hand on that cheek. She never thought about the romance of a listening ear, of having someone dear to her who truly cared to listen to her and who understood her thoughts and treated her as the intelligent woman she was.

She never thought of what it might be like to fall in love with her most beloved friend until it had already happened. And it warmed her in a way that she felt could never fully fade away.

And that warmth stayed with her a moment longer, before she could stop to wonder if he felt the same, before she could think of the shame of her feelings for a man already married to a woman who was, in her perception, of much greater elegance and taste, before she had the presence of mind to realize that Pierre was gone, too… that he now was missing to a war he was never meant to fight.

She pushed those thoughts away for a moment, and she basked in the glow of the firelight, considering all the ways she might figure to tell him if given the chance.

[danielmaraisdjpaws-blog]

Rationale

I decided to make an album that will showcase different cultures/tribes within South African, through sound and recognizable chants. Each song is infused with a Techno style beat because I would each song to be dance-worthy and to uplift these sounds of the tribes/cultures by allowing the listener to head bop or dance and enjoy the infused culture curated songs.

Every week I wanted to find new ways in which I could express these cultures, so I explored all over the internet, asked people of different nationalities and even looked for sounds that I may have heard before while traveling. I managed to incorporate multiple different sounds each week followed by its unique beat. A lot of the music I compose is done through emotions and feelings, which I also tried to incorporate into this album, allowing each song to take the listener into a new world - hopefully, a trance - as a result, the album tells a story. 

Week one: Alone Season 4 Soundtrack 

This song introduces the listener into the album, putting them in a rhythmic peaceful realm, showing the listener the possibilities of where the album can go. The Wild forestry and birds that feature in the song are there to bring out the tribes that still live in the bush and believe that this their way of life, which there is nothing wrong with, I guess to society it may seem ancient or strange. I believe that they live the most peaceful nights and when they do party, it may sound something like this song, just done with live instruments. 

Week two: Silent Cries 

I had imagined a tribe does a sort a warcry, just before a war, specifically the Zulu nation. These people played a big part in our history and they had to be brought to light in a creative way. I decided to incorporate chants, ululating, African drums and a suspenseful violin to give it that extra feel of Africancity. Everything initially sounds chaotic at first, but this clearly represents the different kind culture that Zulu people represent, the fact that the beats don’t have to continuously have to follow a four-beat sequence. On another note, the symptomatic, emotion hums in the back, again give the listener a sense of calmness while they’re listening, while the beat keeps your heart pumping.

Week three: Shamans den

Based on the Islamic religion, many people don’t classify other religions other than their own, as a ‘real’ religion. I believe those people are brainwashed by what their people and culture say, so they decide to discriminate against Muslims. In this song, I wanted to showcase their peaceful prayers and how mesmerizing they can be, and along with the added pads that give that effect of an eccentric open world. These prayers feature all over the country, saving many people from evil. 

Week four: Fire, Water, And Earth

Monks that usually hang around mountains with waterfalls and are believed to have superpowers…well, I’m not sure how to that is, but I managed to get some sort of ritual, a prayer that they were signing. It sounds so different, something many people around the world have never heard before. Presenting the song in the way that it is, gives the viewer an overall background of the monks, Africa, and techno. What better combination could there be... Lol, I think this song was well-executed in terms of bringing the monks to light and allowing people in the music industry to recognize them. 

Week five: Happy Feet

This song represents Townships and the cultures that came out of them, heavy bass lines, loud chants, drugs, violence street racing and drags. Although I couldn’t find proper street racing sounds, I managed to get the chants correct as well as the beat, which you would hear in a Quantum taxi specifically. Most people in African cultures know this subgenre called Gqom, very hyped up, perfect for a party. This song is meant to but the listener in a tavern or a quantum, full blast, and for them to feel the frequencies rush through their body.

Week six:  Art Angels

Heavily inspired by Claire, commonly known as Grimes. I don’t know what it was about the video that I watched, but I felt like I channeled into these ‘art angels’ that helped me come up with this song. This song represents how the tribes from many years ago figured out that animals provide up foo. But certain tribes/ cultures slaughter goats as a form of celebration or tradition when someone dies or gets married. This song represents the lambs calling for their moms even when they are older. Followed by 3 stylistic African beats to represent the different stages of the lamb as it grows up and then lives to see the cycle repeat itself.

Week seven: It Was All Just A Dream

At this point in the album, I felt it was best to tone down the complexity of the songs ending off the album on a peaceful note. This song is based off the whole thought process around all the other songs in the album, and the dreams I had about them and the sounds that I heard after I saw the worlds that I was in, I hope that I could take any listener there. At the same time, the composition of this song makes me feel so nostalgic like I’ve been rebirthed, it just has such an amazing feel to it, and I feel our country as a nation felt that way when Madiba came into power. This song represents South Africans, who strive for greatness.

[fatecaster]

25 wicked Wiccan quotes that will instantly enchant you - Reblog

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25 wicked Wiccan quotes that will instantly enchant you

Often life can drag us down to the point where we feel hopeless. Whenever I get to this point I look to something such as Wiccan quotes for inspiration. While many people will wonder how Wiccan quotes can have an uplifting effect, look no further than this list of inspirational quotes. Each one is from an informative Wiccan author or philosopher

#1- “We are not on this planet to ask forgiveness of our deities” -- Scott Cunningham

Scott Cunningham was a famed Wiccan author with a ton of knowledge on the movement. His thoughts on asking forgiveness from Gods always serves as a powerful reminder that we are divine and whole and not products of sin. #2 - “At heart we are all powerful, beautiful, and capable of changing the world with our bare hands.” -- Dianne Sylvan

Another famed author, Dianne Sylvan is a fictional Wiccan author whose quotes remind us that humans have a divine potential for change and inspiration.

#3 - "Therefore, let there be beauty and strength, power and compassion, honor and humility, mirth and reverence within you.” -- Doreen Valiente

Again, I firmly believe in the Wiccan principle of divinity with every individual, regardless of race or creed. And that power can be tapped into when we find strength in our divine nature, which must be discovered through inner soul searching.

#4 - "If you have time to breathe you have time to meditate." -- Ajahn Amaro

While not strictly a self-practicing Wiccan, Ajahn Amaro was a Buddhist monk whose teachings often align with the Wiccan movement. You can develop a stronger sense of oneness with our inner divinity through daily meditation. This allows us to tap into our own developing gift for the magickal arts.

#5 - "The death of fear is in doing what you fear to do." -- Sequichie Comingdeer

Another non-Wiccan author, Sequichie Comingdeer was of all things a Cherokee Native American. However, while pagan in his teachings, his thoughts on fear and suppression to the surrender of the will to the popular movements reflects my own thoughts on not living a life devoted to our own pursuits. While Wicca is an official religion, it's pursuit of inner divinity and magic comes from a reflection of the strength of the individual.

#6- "No one can give you magickal powers. You have to earn them. There is only one way to do this. Practice, practice, practice!" -- Donald Michael Kraig

Again, I love the idea of using meditation and practice to develop inner strength and wisdom. The idea of devoting time to pursuit the magickal arts provides a deep sense of calm and rhythm when in the midst of life's daily struggles.

#7 - "Magic is not always serious or solemn. It is a joyous celebration and merging with the life-force." -- Scott Cunningha ​ ​Going to author Scott Cunningham, the very idea of using the magickal arts to uplift our own troubled spirit is more than just rote rituals and boring religious practices. It's the act of celebration and become one with our divine nature explored through Wicca.

#8 - "Good energy was never meant to be waisted on idiocy." - Silver RavenWolf

Another Wiccan author, Silver RavenWolf reminds us that while life can be full of people who on the surface appear crazy, we all have the energy of divinity and oneness to suppress the natural tendency to waste our potential. There's nothing more uplifting than becoming one with the spirit that enchants us.

#9 - "I have learned a great deal from other Witches, Wiccans, Odinists, Voodoo and Houdoo practitioners, Druids and many others who consider themselves Pagan. The one common thread is that every single person has been nonjudgmental. Isn't this what it's all about, acceptance? Are we not here to design our own spiritual path?" -- Arin Murphy Hiscock

I love this quote from Arin Murphy Hiscock, author of numerous Wiccan fictional books. Part of the joy of practicing Wicca is the act of finding inner strength and in our divine potential. One that is devoid of judgment and opposing opinions.

#10 - "We believe that we can connect with the God and Goddess and hear their voices, receive their inspiration directly and take responsibility for our own actions, without the intermediary of a pope or rabbi." -- Arin Murphy Hiscock

Again, Hiscock's quotes remind me that even in the midst of a society built on hallow lies, we can find strength in our own practice and religion by holding ourselves accountable for how we treat others. One that doesn't rely on religious authorities to tell us how to behave.

#11 - "We should educate people that 'Witch' is not evil but ancient and positive." -- Margot Adler

​Part of my spiritual beliefs includes the notion that no one is incorrect in their beliefs per se, but that the error is the indoctrinated enforcement of absolute truth. Part of this is reminding ourselves as Wiccans that we have an inner divine nature that can be used to bring positive force into this world full of chaos.

#12 - “Where once I prayed for forgiveness from a father God who held up huge palms and said “Thou shalt not,” now I find peace with a sister god who takes my open hands in hers and says, “You will.” -- Betsy Cornwell

Betsy Cornwell reminds us that while there is a father in the universe there is also a feminine form of divinity that is just as capable of being tapped into. One that is nurturing and healing and not forcing us to behave a certain way.

#13 - "Magic is natural. It is a harmonious movement of energies to create a needed change." -- Scott Cunningham

I love the idea that as a Wiccan we can create power from our own divine self to enact change in a world hell-bent on destruction and authority. That to me is the greatest power that we all are capable of tapping into.

#14 - "A witch is someone who has dedicated her life to learning about the connections between things. She studies the different cycles and her place in them. She learns how to use the energy in herself and in the world to make changes. And most of all, she tries to make the world a better place for herself and other people.” -- Isobel Bird

Again, when life becomes too depressing there is something deeply satisfying about learning to improve our surroundings without succumbing to the popular theories and movements of the times. One that is built off increasing our own positive energy so that we can help others improve their own lives.

#15 - “Wicca's temples are flowered-splashed meadows, forest, beaches, and deserts.” -- Scott Cunningham

Another great quote from Scott Cunningham, I love the idea that the very foundation of Wicca is built off serenity and inner strength found in a harmonious reflection of nature. Though we are all capable of caving into the demands of a society devoid of any true meaning, there is strength in knowing that Wicca allows us to tap into our own divine spirit.

#16 - "I put a capital N on nature and call it my church." -- Frank Lloyd Wright

While known primarily for his architecture, Frank Lloyd Wright was known for his own Pagan influenced religious attitudes. And while Wicca is known for its own reliance on inner divinity, there is peace to be found in what we call nature, which is essentially a reflection of our own harmonious relationship with the Earth.

#17 - “There isn't shame in having shadows - we all have them to varying degrees. it's simply a part of being human.” -- Timothy Roderick

​Timothy Roderick is a fellow spiritual writer whose own training has included time in practicing Wicca. His thoughts on having our own hidden secrets that he refers to as shadows remind me that we all have our own weaknesses that can be seen as a strength. This often helps me overcome my own bouts with depression in times of crisis.

#18 - "My religion speaks of the old ways. It is the perfume of my night, the sanctity of my day." -- Karla Bardanza

Karla Bardanza is a practicing poet whose thoughts on Wicca include the very notion of our connections to the old and new. While hard to find, her quotes often serve as a reminder of how our own practicing religion can help us find peace and harmony.

#19 - "The magic begins in you. Feel your own energy, and realize similar energy exists within the Earth, stones, plants, water, wind, fire, colors, and animals." -- Scott Cunningham

Another Scott Cunningham quote, this one reminds us that we can become one with the Earth and the divine force present in everything if we can find our own divine selves. Nothing is more relaxing than knowing when all else fails, we have our own divine nature.

#20 - “Consider the holiness of your hands. They are how you do your work on this earth; they are a microcosm of the hands of the Goddess, and can change the world as easily as hers can.” -- Dianne Sylvan

​Going back to the aspect of self-divinty, Wicca is the embrace of our own ability to create magic in the world just as the divine spirit can. This includes doing good work on the land and helping the world become a better place.

#21 - “Magick is the science and art of causing change (in consciousness) to occur in conformity with will, using means not currently understood by traditional Western science . . .” -- Donald Michael Kraig

Again, I find strength in knowing that just because the Western world has the attitude that their science can explain everything, there are still mysteries in the universe that only currently be explained through spiritualism and Wicca. This includes finding inner strength when everyone else sees only negativity.

#22 - “When your heart is broken, it’s easier to follow rules” -- Betsy Cornwell

Betsy Cornwell's quote serves as a reminder that while it's easy to become trapped in a masculine way of seeing only rules and order, there is beauty in chaos and self-will that can be expressed through Wiccan practices. 

#23 - “I am not, as it turns out, incapable of changing myself or my life. I am not, as it turns out, worthless. I am, in fact, one seriously badass Witch who holds in her hands the power to change the world. ” -- Dianne Sylvan

I love the notion that through the magickal arts we can become divine in nature and enact change in a world focused on rigid rules. Sylvan's quote serves to remind us how we can become divine if we find strength in our own selves.

#24 - “Therefore, let there be beauty and strength, power and compassion, honor and humility, mirth and reverence within you.” -- Doreen Valiente

​Which brings us to this quote from Doreen Valiente. While the magickal arts can often be seen as exotic and dangerous, there is strength in knowing we are good people capable of creating a better world.

#25 - “We are disconnected from nature, we are wounded from the Spirit outward, and that has caused the largest majority of the problems that plague the world today.” -- Dianne Sylvan

​Again, the relaxation that comes from Wicca rests in our own reliance on finding harmony in nature and the divine spirit of the natural world. This can help us to find peace when everyone else wants destruction.

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Conclusion

So let me ask you, readers, did you enjoy this list? Sound off in the comments below and share your thoughts! While it can be easy to feel distracted and depressed, remember that there are Wiccans out there who have felt just as you have. Find strength in this list of Wiccan quotes and know that you do have the power to improve the world. And your own sanity! Feel free to share this article if you enjoyed it!

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