#Passing Through Prairie Country
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lgbtqreads · 2 months ago
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Happy Native American Heritage Month 2024!
Happy Native American Heritage Month 2024! To celebrate, we’re featuring books starring queer Native American and First Nations characters, by Native American and/or First Nations authors, as well as poetry and nonfiction. For even more recommendations, check out last year’s post! (And again, while the usual affiliate links are included, you’re strongly encouraged to order from the Native-owned…
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walkintomymystery · 16 days ago
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Fall Into Me
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(Set after Sonic 3 - Alternate Ending - No spoilers!)
Defeated, world-weary, and impossibly lost, Shadow allows himself to be taken back into G.U.N custody. While they decide his fate, he is housed in a secret facility hidden deep in the heart of one of the country's National Parks. Still reeling from the heartbreaks that have shaped his life, Shadow never expected to find the closest thing to a home he'd known in over fifty years.
Pairings: Shadow the Hedgehog x Original Female Character
Warnings for this chapter: a little about not eating/sleeping, a bit of action but no blood
//
Chapter Four
Shadow stared emptily at the wall opposite him. It had been another long night.
His self-inflicted confinement wasn’t so harsh really; he’d always been fairly adept at amusing himself. Without Maria by his side, the ARK had been a lonely place, and when she was too sick for him to visit, Shadow had to find ways to keep his mind busy.
The days were easy. He re-read his books, combed the room for cameras and bugs again and again, and tried to build a mental map of the base, for future reference. Shadow also found a chessboard tucked away in the bottom of his closet and had whiled away many hours beating himself in game after game.
He’d be alright, if it wasn’t for the nights. Time passed so slowly in that other world. In the deep violet twilight, Shadow could practically feel each second easing by.
The silence made his head hurt, and all he could do was stare and stare, and try in vain to keep his thoughts from wandering to places he’d safely locked away, never to be opened again.
Shadow still hadn’t slept. If anything, avoiding sleep had only gotten easier with each passing day, as if he’d finally pushed through and out the other side of his fatigue. Now insomnia clawed at him, and he wasn’t sure he’d be able to sleep if he wanted to. The thought of resting, of letting his guard down and surrendering to that exhaustion, filled him with more dread than ever before.
His empty stomach twisted and wrung itself in the pit of his belly, begging for food. It had been two days since he last ventured out, since he last ate anything, since he last saw Kit, and Shadow could feel his now mortal body growing weaker and weaker with every hour.
He’d considered sneaking out to the cafeteria, but every time he got close to caving, he was reminded that Kit was able to hear his every move, even from down the corridor. Sometimes, Shadow amused himself by muttering under his breath, cursing her and the people who kept him here, just in case she happened to be listening.
He didn’t want to give her or any soldiers the satisfaction of catching him sneaking out, so Shadow stayed locked up in his room, trying to formulate a plan.
All the information he’d gathered from the books Kit had left for him had been carefully stored away in his brain, filed and categorised for future reference. It would be hard to find someone on Earth who knew about Northern Montana than Shadow did, much to his dismay.
Consisting of just over a million acres, Glacier National Park was an enormous place to be lost in. There were mountains to traverse, over 130 lakes, thick brush, wild animals, tundras and prairies.
Even if he did manage to find the Going-to-the-Sun Road, the highway ran for fifty miles before it reached any kind of civilisation, and what then?
Without his powers, Shadow had no way off this planet. They’d catch up with him eventually, and he’d be right back where he started. But if he kept to the dense shrub, then it would take even longer to get away from The Hill.
Shadow sifted through the facts and figures he’d committed to his expansive memory. According to one of the books he’d devoured, 75% of the park still remained untouched, useful for keeping hidden, but he would have trouble finding his way.
Shadow sighed and lay down on the bed to stare up at the ceiling instead.
There was a way out of every trap. He’d learnt that the hard way. He just had to find it.
Shadow and Kit soon fell into a routine again. As he refused to sleep or leave his room, their morning and nightly rituals were his only way of keeping track of time.
In the mornings, Kit knocked and asked if he’d like to explore the woodland with her, or if he wanted to meet some of the people who worked at The Hill. Every morning, he ignored her, and she went away with a sigh.
Every evening, Kit would knock to tell Shadow that dinner was ready and that she’d love to see him in the cafeteria, before giving up and walking away again.
But tonight was different. When Kit knocked at the door at the usual time, she hesitated before speaking.
In the dark of his room, Shadow raised his head. The light from the hallway seeped under the door, casting a golden rectangle on the floor. He watched Kit’s shadow shift nervously from foot to foot, restless and uncertain, framed by yellow light.
“Shadow?”
Her voice sounded softer than usual, as if through ignoring her, he’d finally worn away its edge.
Kit knocked again.
He could imagine her ridiculous ears swivelling in every direction, trying to pick out his movements beneath the laughter in the next room, and the blaring television noise down the hall.
“I brought you those books you asked for. If you want, I can take away the ones you’ve finished?” She paused, then tentatively added, “I’d love to know what you thought?”
Shadow almost ignored her, but curiosity got the better of him. Though she was deceptive and annoyingly cavalier about his imprisonment, something about Kit made him want to look again, to take his time.
Shadow had tried to picture her in his head a few times but could never summon a complete image of her. Snatches of her bright, lavender eyes, her short, sharp black claws, and the dagger of her smile flashed through his mind, but Shadow found it hard to piece them all together into one person.
He could recall her voice though, as clear as a bell. Low and soft, clearly smart, enough to toy with her words and with him, but never cruel. And when she called his name through the door, Shadow found himself surrendering to that curiosity despite his better judgment.
Kit seemed even more surprised that he’d opened the door than he was. She smiled, and for the first time, it felt genuine and perhaps even a little shy.
“Hi, Shadow.”
He huffed in response, and felt a surge of victory when Kit’s smile dropped a little.
“What did you ask about the books?”
“What? Oh, I asked if you liked them?”
“Why?”
Kit glanced away, then back to him, confused.
“They were mine first. I’ve read them too. I just wondered what you thought of them.”
“Why?”
Kit only looked more confused.
“What?”
“Why?”
”Because,” She shrugged, her voice cracking as she searched for an answer. “I want to know your opinion. I’m interested.”
“In me?”
“Well,” Kit looked sheepish. “Yeah.”
Taken-aback, Shadow set his teeth.
Who was this fox? She moved and changed like the phases of the moon, one moment tough and inscrutable, the next earnest and forthcoming, and now this.
Kit shifted awkwardly from foot to foot again, reshuffling the small stack of books she held in her arms. Conversely, Shadow remained absolutely still, like a moss-patched statue.
It was Friday night, not that that meant anything to Shadow. The corridor was empty but most of the doors had been left ajar, like a college dorm. People could move easily to and fro, some just poking their head around the door, while others brought beer and snacks to share with their friends.
“How are you feeling?”
Kit kept her voice low. Though no one was paying them the least bit of attention, she didn’t want to be overheard.
Shadow’s frown deepened.
“How am I feeling?” he repeated incredulously.
“Fair enough. Stupid question. That’s on me.” Kit held up her hands to show him the books she’d brought for him. “Here. I raided the library. Well, we call it that but it’s more like a big…”
She trailed off, sensing he wasn’t in the mood.
“Anyway, the point is… Books.”
Shadow hesitated, then took the small stack she passed to him, being careful not to let their hands brush.
Something was wrong.
Kit looked nervous. He didn’t think he’d ever seen that before. Even in their first meeting, when he knew she must’ve been on high alert, she had maintained a mask of calm. Now, Kit’s soft lavender eyes were wide, and her gaze kept flicking to the left, down the corridor, as if she anticipated someone coming around the corner.
She fidgeted in the doorway, and he wondered momentarily if she was waiting for him to invite her in. But then Kit forced a smile again and her anxious hands stilled.
“I’m sorry about the other day. You’re right, we don’t know each other yet, I shouldn’t make assumptions. But I’d like to know you. And I’d like you to know me. Maybe even trust me. We really don’t expect anything of you, Shadow. We just want you to feel at home while you’re here, so… When I knock for you tomorrow, will you come to the door?”
Shadow wasn’t sure how to respond. He’d always appreciated candour, and others being straightforward with him, but an apology had completely blindsided him.
Again, he considered how little he understood about Kit, her motives, her actions, her attitude towards him. She shifted and reformed like the clouds, never settling in one place for very long before she reshaped herself.
He hated the unpredictable, and he couldn’t wrap his head around her. Shadow didn’t know if she was throwing everything she could think of at him to see what stuck, or if she was just as uncertain of how to navigate their relationship as he was.
“I just…” Her gaze rose to the ceiling briefly, then back to Shadow. “I just want you to feel as at home here as I do.”
“How can you ask that of me?”
Shadow readjusted the books in his hands, and Kit watched his movements, innocuous as they were. Still wary of him then, despite everything she said, despite the power she had over him.
“I know, I know…” Kit gave him a weak smile. “But I think we have more in common than you think. I-”
The laughter coming from next-door rose suddenly and Kit turned her head towards the sound, startled. When she looked back at him, her mask was back in place.
“I asked about your shoes. You should have them back soon but… I’m sorry. I did try.”
“What are they doing with them?” Shadow’s grip tightened on the books until his nails came close to puncturing the tough material of his gloves. “They were given… They’re important to me.”
“I know, I’m sorry. I’ll keep asking. I promise.”
For some reason, Shadow believed her.
Kit took a tentative step closer, and he fought the instinct not to move away.
“Will you come tomorrow?”
Again, her eyes darted down the hallway, as if she was waiting for someone to come around the corner at any moment.
Was she not supposed to be here? No, that couldn’t be it. As Kit had reminded him many times, they were both allowed to wander around the base as they pleased, he just couldn’t leave.
So what then? She was allowed to be here, it was her job to speak to him… Perhaps Kit was saying things she ought not to be and was afraid of being overheard. But Kit was also, as she put it, a ‘guest’. She seemed right at home, practically one of the family. What did she have to be afraid of?
Shadow scowled. He felt exhausted and ravenous and weak, and the last thing he wanted to do right now was unpack the riddle of his captors.
“Will you ever leave me alone?”
“Never.” Kit smirked. “I told you, I’m persistent. This place… It means a lot to me. It could mean a lot to you too. I know it.”
“Why would I-”
“Because you don’t have a home. And this could be it. We could be… You could be happy. This is a good place, Shadow.”
He sighed.
“So you keep saying.”
Shadow had never been very good at reading people and their intentions. Keeping others at arm’s length tended to deal with that neatly, and Kit was no exception. But she seemed genuine enough.
In the low light of the hall, Kit’s eyes shone, open and honest, her small hands folded in front of her. He watched her thumb rub anxiously back and forth across the backs of her fingers, then his gaze found the brass rings snapped around her wrists. His own still buzzed angrily, sending short bursts of pain shooting through his marrow.
Shadow sighed again.
“I want my shoes back.”
Sensing an impending surrender, Kit brightened.
“I will get them for you, I promise. Cross my heart.”
With her index finger, she traced an X over the left side of her chest.
It made Shadow’s stomach twist to see it. Maria used to do the same. Whenever she made a promise, she would raise her right hand while the other crossed her chest, and all with a huge smile. Kit’s smile was almost as bright.
Shadow huffed and pulled the books closer to his chest.
“See to it that you do.”
He didn’t give Kit a chance to respond. He tapped the door closed with the heel of his borrowed sneaker, then sat down at the table to read.
Shadow slid the books slowly off the pile and placed them down, one by one, on the table in another stack. A few were non-fiction, more information about the park, but there were a few novels as well. The titles seemed vaguely familiar, and he wondered if he’d seen them before in the ARK’s extensive library. Maria loved to read.
At the bottom of the pile, he found a small rectangular box, the same size and shape as the books, disguised in their midst by its dark colour.
Shadow frowned, glancing towards the door.
When he slipped his thumb under the plastic lid, he found it came off easily. Inside, neatly organised into different compartments, was dinner. Vegetables, chicken, some fruit, something sweet, all from the cafeteria, but whether it was his aching hunger or the way it had been presented, it looked like a meal fit for a king.
Shadow stared. He stared and stared some more.
Slowly, he picked up the plastic fork that had come with it and poked tentatively at the chicken. It was the most delicious thing he’d ever tasted.
Though his stomach begged him to hurry, Shadow took his time, knowing he’d make himself sick if he ate too fast.
Had this been what Kit was so nervous about? She was supposed to be his keeper, the one to convince him that this was home now and he should make himself comfortable. Perhaps they’d told her she had to entice him out, with food and water and a breath of fresh air, and she’d defied them. Perhaps false kindness was part of her plan.
Head churning with second-guesses and double-bluffs, Shadow ate his dinner, read his borrowed books, and finally felt the gentle hand of sleep on shoulder, rather than the thorny snare of his nightmares.
That night, he slept peacefully for the first time in fifty years.
/
Kit rolled back and forth on her feet from heel to toe, working up the courage to knock on Shadow’s door.
She’d been awake for hours already, which wasn’t like her at all. Most of the base was usually up, dressed, and on the way to work before she was even able to crack open her eyes.
Since Shadow arrived, things had been a little different. She had a mission now, an important role that only she could fill, and Kit would rather die than disappoint the people that took her in when she had nothing.
Being Shadow’s keeper meant getting him to breakfast before the cafeteria closed, which meant getting up at a good time, even if she’d only managed to draw him out of his room a grand total of once, so far.
Today would be different though, she could feel it. Or maybe that was just blind, desperate optimism.
Kit pulled in a deep breath, then briskly knocked four times on the door, as if anything about the situation was ordinary.
“C’mon,” she whispered to herself as her ears circled left and right, searching for him. “C’mon, tough guy. Give me a break. I’m doing my best here.”
Kit almost punched the air in celebration when she heard shuffling movement behind the door.
She took a step back, giving Shadow space, and tried not to look too worried when he finally showed his face.
She knew he hadn't been sleeping. Sometimes, Kit awoke in the night to hear him shifting around in his room. It was faint and difficult to pinpoint amongst the others in the base, but once she got a lock on him, he was unmistakable. Shadow’s heartbeat was almost twice as fast as the humans that bracketed him, and he liked to huff and sigh to himself like an old man. Which, she supposed, he was.
His eyes had been so bright and stormy when he arrived. You could see the power crackling behind them, the rage and the fury that burned in his core. Now, he just looked tired and faint, like ink running off the page of a tear-stained letter.
Kit didn’t think pointing out how awful he looked would make Shadow any more agreeable, nor would suggesting he get some fresh air and then some rest. She didn’t think Shadow was open to taking any advice at all, least of all from her, so Kit stuck to what she knew.
“Morning, handsome.”
As expected, his response was gruff and terse, but Shadow did at least appear a little more amenable than he had the night before. The food must have done him some good. Which reminded her…
“I brought you breakfast.”
Kit pressed the handles of a small brown paper bag into his hand, being careful not to let their fingers brush, just as Shadow had the night before.
Shadow peered curiously inside.
“What is this?”
“Pancakes. They’re rare here so I thought I’d better snag you some before they went. They’re all boxed up so you can save them for later, if you want.”
She wasn't planning on this becoming the norm, but Kit simply couldn’t let Shadow’s hunger strike go on any longer.
“Here.”
She held out a steaming styrofoam cup, and Shadow hesitantly took it.
“I wasn’t sure if you’d like coffee or not but it’ll keep you warm either way. You’ll need it, it’s cold out today.”
Shadow scowled, first at the coffee, then at her.
“I don’t want it.”
Kit huffed.
“It’s not poisonous, Shadow. C’mon, it’ll make you feel better.”
He stared at her for a second, then Shadow lowered his head and gave the drink an experimental sniff.
The sharp smell of machine brewed coffee made his nose wrinkle, and Kit couldn’t blame him, it wasn’t the nicest stuff. Sometimes, Lisa brewed her own and that was infinitely tastier, but she hadn’t had time to ask.
Resigning himself to the situation, Shadow carefully wrapped his hand around the cup, then held it against the black sweater he wore, warming his chest through the material. It was the first and only time Kit had seen him be gentle.
“What do you want? What’s so important?” he asked.
“Lisa wants to meet you. I thought we could all go out onto the trail together.”
“Why would I want-”
“Lisa said she’d turn off your bracers. Or, at least, lower the inhibition rate.”
Kit glanced down at the rings around his wrists. Hers had only ever been switched on for a few minutes at a time, and only once or twice in all the time that she’d worn them. She remembered how it felt though, to have every ounce of life sapped from you as they buzzed and hummed through your bones.
She had mentioned the long-term effects of their use to Lisa. Shadow had been at the base for a week now, and his bracers had been permanently switched on, night and day. His back was starting to arch, and anyone could see how lifeless his eyes had become. He swayed slightly on unsteady feet, and if you looked closely, you could see that Shadow was trembling.
The bracers had never been used like that before, as far as Kit knew. But Lisa had reassured her that there would be no lasting effects; they would never do anything to harm Shadow. Kit had still looked concerned so Lisa promised that if he behaved, she would switch them off.
“It might make you feel better,” Kit said quietly, looking him up and down again, her chest tight.
Whether he’d finally realised that he could trust her, or his will had bent and snapped like the bow of a cedar in a storm, Shadow closed his scarlet eyes with a sigh.
“Fine,” he said.
Kit grinned.
/
Shadow left his breakfast behind but took the coffee. Every so often, he took an experimental sip, and seemed to hate it less every time.
Together, they trudged across the clearing towards the tree line.
It was a beautiful time of year in Glacier, before the snow settled, when the forest was still teeming with life and the burning orange and yellow leaves lay as a blanket of fire for them to follow.
The air was rich with woodsmoke and pine sap, and a gentle breeze brushed Kit’s cheeks as they made their way into the wood, which welcomed them with open arms.
She could feel Shadow’s eyes on her. He still didn’t trust her, that much was obvious, but she thought he might believe her when she said that no harm would ever come to him here. Then again, if she’d been through everything that Shadow had, Kit supposed she wouldn’t be very trusting either.
To her surprise, Shadow was the first one to break the silence.
“How long have you been here?”
Kit raised her hand to push away a low branch and held it aside, gesturing for Shadow to go past.
He regarded her curiously but did go on ahead.
“At The Hill?” she clarified.
“On Earth.”
Behind the tree line lay a foot-worn trail, carved out by many decades of hikers, and now the heavy, ridged boots of the soldiers. It wound deeper into the woods, curving behind a clutch of brilliant gold larches.
Kit knew these forests like the back of her hand. She surprised even herself. Sometimes, areas of the park felt familiar, even if they were entirely new to her, as if the whole wood was music on a stave and she could read every note intuitively. The park just made sense to her, this world made sense to her, even when nothing else did.
“To be honest,” Kit said. “I’m not sure. I think it’s been around six months.”
Shadow stopped and turned to her. He looked suddenly uncomfortable to be leading the way. It meant his back was to her, and though Kit wanted to show him that she wasn’t ever going to hurt him, she gave him this, and took the lead again.
She heard Shadow begin to follow her, his soft-soled sneakers carefully picking through the fallen leaves. His heart was beginning to race in his chest, she could just about hear its soft melody under the forests’ chorus
“How can you not be sure?”
“I…” Kit readjusted, settling her voice. “I don’t remember how I got here.”
“How can you not remember?”
She stopped, one hand pressed against the solid, cracked trunk of a fir tree. Its envy-green needles stretched out all around it, granting shade and shelter to those who passed beneath.
It was one of her favourite trees in the forest. Sweet-smelling resin seeped from its leaves when crushed between her hands, and the bark was often beaded with sap blisters, a reminder that this forest was alive and breathing and watching.
Kit turned to Shadow to find him gazing at her curiously.
You could easily forget that he was new to this world, new to everything that wasn’t the dark hull of a spaceship, suspended above all life on this planet. He wasn’t from Earth, but he wasn’t quite alien either.
How tragic, Kit thought, to be from nowhere, to have no one, and to know that your one purpose was gone. It made her want to reach out, to expose frayed nerves of her own, despite the strict orders she’d been given.
“Apparently, I fell to Earth like a star. All I remember is a bright white circle of light. And pain. It hurt.”
Kit grimaced.
“A few of the rangers found me in the woods, all muddy and wet. I must’ve been laying there in the rain for hours. They brought me back here, patched me up... I couldn’t remember anything, not even my own name. I still can’t.”
It was a thought that haunted her like a second shadow. Where had she come from? No one seemed able to tell her. How had she come to be here? Did anyone miss her? Had she come to Earth of her own devices or had someone pushed her here? These questions kept Kit up throughout those first few terrifying nights at the base.
But the humans who saved her had quickly become family, and the desire to know what had happened to her and the ache of a home she couldn’t remember were starting to fade. Kit had a sense of purpose now, she had a mission. Her fears and worries could be put to the wayside. She had someone else to look after.
Shadow frowned.
“They named you?”
Kit couldn’t help following the arc of the red arches above his bright eyes, how they seemed to emphasise the slightest shifts in Shadow’s expression. She’d thought him so blank and impassive when they first met. Now in the bright morning sunlight, Kit could see that wasn’t the case. You just had to look closely enough.
“Lisa did,” she said, and watched Shadow’s frown deepen.
“So you are a prisoner too.”
“Guest.” Kit spread her arms, emphasising all the freedom they had granted him. “You don’t look like a prisoner to me.”
Shadow’s sharp eyes fell to the bracers snapped around her wrists.
“You don’t look like a guest to me.”
Kit’s good mood soured. He had a habit of doing that. Just when she thought they were getting along, or at least starting to, Shadow cut through to the bone. The weight of responsibility resting on her shoulders only grew heavier with every step he took back from her.
But she had faith. Kit had never been one to shy away from a challenge, and getting Shadow to trust her, trust her friends, was definitely that. This was a good place. He would see that too, soon enough.
Tired of talking, Kit turned and pushed further into the woods until the trail widened up into another, smaller clearing where Lisa was waiting for them.
Her face immediately broke out into a smile when she saw them coming, dislodging her round glasses. She had to push them further up her nose to stop them slipping off.
Lisa raised her hand and waved.
“Good morning, guys! It’s good to finally meet you, Shadow. My name’s Lisa, I’m the head researcher here at the Hill.”
Shadow hung back at the edge of the clearing. He looked Lisa up and down, scowling so deeply, Kit was worried he’d give himself a headache. It made her chest squeeze to see.
“You’re the one I have to thank for these,” he said gruffly, and held out his gloved hands, making the bracers glint in the sunlight.
Kit glanced nervously at Lisa.
She wanted, needed, Shadow to like Lisa, to trust her as she did. Kit knew the scientists would help him either way, and keep him safely hidden away from the world for as long as was necessary, but she couldn’t help thinking Shadow would be happier if he felt at home.
Selfish as it was, she was lonely. It would be nice to have a friend who knew what it felt like to be otherly on Earth.
Lisa pressed her lips together in thought, or perhaps sympathy. Pushing her glasses up her nose again, she took a step towards Shadow, reaching out to him with clever, gentle hands.
“I’m sorry. The adjustment period can be rough, but it’s the only solution we have.”
She knelt down in front of him so that they were at eye-level.
Shadow regarded her warily, his lip curling back in a snarl, baring one sharp fang that gleamed brilliant white against his dark fur.
He seemed so unnatural out here, amongst the deep greens and earthy browns. His sleek black body was so alien against the trees, his red markings a warning to others not to get too close.
“Hey,” Lisa smiled and poked his chest. “This sweater used to be mine. My sister gave it to me, and I gave it to Kit. Is it keeping you warm? It can get pretty cold out here at night, huh?”
Shadow said nothing, though he did look down at the black pullover he’d chosen that morning.
Sensing she wasn’t going to get much out of him, Lisa pushed up her sleeves.
“Here, let me take a look.”
Lisa wrapped her long fingers around one of his bracers without fear.
Kit noted that she spoke to Shadow like a colleague. They knew he was smart, his impressive IQ had been just one of the many astounding statistics in his file, so it seemed ridiculous to even consider talking down to him.
Shadow watched her closely but allowed Lisa to lift his hand and turn it over, palm up. Her deft, careful movements were so different to how he’d been treated in the past.
Kit couldn’t imagine how much effort it must take for Shadow to rein in the anger and frustration coursing through him and allow someone to get so close, especially a scientist, someone he didn’t know and had no reason to trust.
Her ears twitched, swivelling in his direction, and heard his heart skip a beat when Lisa carefully pulled his hand closer to her. He was afraid.
“Are they still hurting?” Lisa asked.
Kit flinched when Shadow’s gaze rose to meet hers over Lisa’s shoulder. He seemed… Embarrassed? As if he would rather Kit weren’t here, like she was interrupting something private, encroaching on doctor/patient confidentiality.
It occurred to her later that although Shadow claimed to hate scientists, he fell into the role of test subject very easily. It was home to him, familiar, but with no semblance of warmth or comfort to be found.
“I feel… Cold all the time,” Shadow said quietly, his gaze falling to watch Lisa’s hands again. “I feel the need to eat and to sleep. These are not urges I am used to.”
Lisa nodded sympathetically.
“The bracers cut you off from your powers. Without them, you’re just like everyone else. Hunger, exhaustion, pain… Hopefully, there’ll come a time where we can trust you, and you can trust us, and we won’t have to use them anymore.”
“Your pet still has them.”
Shadow’s sharp eyes found Kit again, and she scowled. She regretted reacting to that word so visibly when he first used it, now Shadow knew he had good ammunition against her.
It was a sore topic. Though most had welcomed her to the base with open arms, there were a few who apparently couldn’t resist antagonising her. They made her feel like a wild animal that the rangers had brought home one day, a mascot for the base. They were a reminder that she did not truly belong here, as much as she yearned for it with all her heart.
Lisa looked back over her shoulder and shot Kit a reassuring smile that made her chest feel a little less taut, then she turned back to Shadow.
“Kit’s powers are impressive. She can do things that fall right out of science fiction. Her bracers can help her channel her power as well as cut them off. Speaking of…”
Lisa straightened up and slipped her hands into the pockets of her army green jacket.
“How would you like to stretch your legs?”
Kit watched, hardly daring to breathe, as Lisa pulled out a small device from her pocket, almost like a television remote. There were a couple of buttons near the top and a dial set into the centre, sleek and black and designed to fit comfortably in Lisa’s hand.
Something in her chest twisted. Kit didn’t think it was a good idea to give Shadow anymore leniency then they already had. Even with his bracers, he was dangerous to be near to. One afternoon stroll through the forest where no one got hurt did not mean that the Ultimate Lifeform was in the mood to comply.
Kit opened her mouth to speak but stopped when Lisa looked her way. She didn’t have to say anything, a flash behind her dark eyes let Kit know that now was not a good time to interject.
Kit shut her mouth.
Lisa pressed her thumb against one of the buttons, then slowly turned the dial to the left.
Immediately, Shadow gasped, his coffee cup falling to the ground. His knees buckled beneath him and he staggered forward a step, only just catching himself on a nearby tree.
Kit instinctively took a step closer but Lisa silently held out her hand, warning her to stay where she was.
Shadow’s fingers dug into the rough bark of the tree, just barely keeping himself upright.
Kit knew what he was feeling. To abruptly jump from knowing nothing but an all-consuming numbness to feeling the power in your veins surging like an electrical current, it was almost too much to bear.
Shadow closed his eyes, his brow creased in concentration as he slowly rose to stand upright again. His back seemed straighter, his gloved hands balled into tight fists.
Shadow’s whole being was alight with the power that he’d been gifted at his creation. Kit could practically hear the energy cascading around his body.
Lisa wouldn’t have turned his bracers off completely, just lowered the inhibition rate enough to give Shadow some of his strength back. It wasn't enough to cause harm to others, but it would pull the most important scientific asset acquired in the last century back from the brink.
Shadow raised his head, and the whole forest seemed to bow in deference.
Fascinated, transfixed, Lisa grinned.
“Better?” she asked.
Shadow rolled his hands into fists.
“Much,” he said.
He didn’t let a single new second pass him by. Shadow bent his knees, drew in a lungful of clear, crisp air, then shot off into the woods, disappearing between the trees in the blink of an eye.
A quiet stillness fell in the clearing. There was only the gentle wind through the leaves to break the silence, and the sound of Kit’s own heartbeat thumping hard in her ears, her neck, her wrists. He’d acted just as Lisa predicted he would.
Beside her, the scientist took off her glasses to clean them on her sleeve. It was a habit Kit knew by heart, she often did it when she was thinking.
Lisa slipped her glasses back on, letting another few moments go by before she said,
“Kit?”
Though it made her heart sink in her chest, Kit nodded.
“On it.”
She caught up with Shadow quicker than she thought she might.
Though he had a speed advantage, his bracers were still switched on, even if their control had been reduced. He was not as fast as he was used to, and the strain it put on his body caused him to lose strength quickly. At least, that’s what Lisa had hypothesised.
Kit knew these woods as if she’d lived there all her life, every fallen tree trunk, every hillock and knoll, every bramble patch and streambank. Shadow’s senses were still dulled, while hers were sharp and focused. He had no idea where he was going; Kit would do anything to not disappoint her saviours.
A rush through the fallen, dry leaves to her left made Kit change direction on a pinhead and within seconds, she had eyes on Shadow. He ran across her path and she flung out her hands, knocking him off his feet with one burst of her power.
Shadow grunted as he hit the ground hard, rolling a few feet before finally ending up on his stomach. He immediately tried to get up, his worn, old sneakers scrabbling to find purchase on the carpet of silken leaves beneath him, but Kit waved her hand, pressing him down against the earth.
It came as naturally to her as breathing. With Lisa’s help, she’d only grown stronger. What had once required all her concentration now only warranted a passing thought, what had once been a tremendous effort was now just a flex of her muscles.
“You see how this works?”
Kit knelt down beside Shadow, her hand held out at her side. Fingers splayed, she held him in that position, focusing all her energy to the palm of her hand.
“If you behave, you get your freedom. If you try to run, I take you down.”
Shadow managed to turn his head, his cheek pressing into the dirt. He bared his teeth, his whole body trembling as he fought against her, but he barely managed to move an inch.
“I was right,” he spat, “You are their pet. Just an attack dog, to keep me trapped here.”
His words stung but Kit brushed the feeling away.
“I’m on your side, Shadow.”
“Then let me go.”
Kit shook her head.
“It’s not up to me.”
Shadow growled deep in his throat as he tried to push himself up, but he couldn’t move his arms. He kept trying to hook his hands under his chest but Kit only had to circle her wrist and he was pinned tighter to the ground.
But then, to her horror, the bracer at her wrist started to hum.
“What-”
Kit gasped as a sudden rush, like ice cold water, suddenly spread throughout her entire body. Both her bracers buzzed and seemed to tighten around her wrists, clamping down until it felt claustrophobic.
Her concentration broken, Kit grabbed at them, trying to dig her fingers under the bands to tug them away from her skin, but the awful numbing sensation only grew stronger.
They were too deep into the forest. They were out of range, and the failsafe settings had kicked in.
Sharp pain shot through her, breaking through the sudden dull haze that enveloped her. Kit cried out and tried to grab at her ankle but Shadow had swung his leg around and knocked her off her feet.
The world flipped on its axis. Kit fell hard, jarring her forearms and elbows as she attempted to catch herself.
She blinked and Shadow was on top of her, his body heavy against hers. He held her legs down with just one of his own so that her feet kicked uselessly against the ground. His hands found her wrists, pinning them by her shoulders so that they twisted painfully.
“Why are you keeping me here?”
“Shadow-”
Kit sucked in a sharp breath as his fingers tightened around her wrists. She was sure he’d be cutting off the circulation if it weren’t for the bracers.
“Tell me!”
“They just want to study us!” Kit’s arms trembled as she tried in vain to push him off. “We’re still aliens, Shadow. They’re putting a lot of trust in us. We should be thankful for their kindness, for letting us stay here. Ou-Our powers could be used to help people.”
Kit’s eyes flew wide as Shadow lowered his head, closing in on what remained of her personal space, his nose just a breath away from hers.
“I am not a lab rat,” he seethed.
Despite the panic clawing at her throat, Kit managed a dry, strained laugh.
“Aren’t you?” she shot back.
As Shadow’s eyes narrowed, the terrifying, awful crackling that seemed to rise from his chest filled Kit’s ear. To her own disappointment, she gave a frightened whimper while her legs scrabbled uselessly beneath him.
As the light behind his eyes grew brighter, she could feel the hands that held her down growing hotter and hotter, sparking and cracking like red-hot embers as Shadow’s power manifested.
But then, Kit felt her bracers switch off again. She sucked in a deep breath as the world came rushing back to greet her.
With a rough cry, she splayed her fingers and sent Shadow flying backwards.
She didn’t have time to think. Shadow landed on his feet and immediately ran at her again.
Kit waved her hand and knocked him off course, sending him sprawling into a bank of burning red and yellow leaves.
Shadow groaned, but she knew it wasn’t her doing. His bracers had snapped back into life again, severing his connection to his powers.
Slowly, Shadow sat up on his elbows. His face was all screwed up with frustration, and Kit knew his once sharp senses were whirling around his head, just out of reach.
“If I help you,” he growled. “Will you let me go?”
“Shadow, if you help us, we can both get what we want.”
Kit shook out her hands, bending and arching her fingers. It was good to have her powers back safely in her grasp. It almost felt like pins and needles, the prickling, uncomfortable sensation of life returning to her.
“Lisa is trying to find a way to get me home. She can help you too.”
Shadow struggled to his feet, snarling.
“I have no home.”
“Then why are you trying to escape? Where are you running to?” Kit shook her head. “The faster you realise that this is a good place, the faster you can leave. Please help us, Shadow.”
The bracers at her wrist stuttered and died again. Kit’s teeth clenched together so hard, she almost bit through her tongue.
Shadow’s sharp gaze crossed her face, immediately sensing the shift in her.
Without a moment’s hesitation, he leapt forward and swung his fist at her head, but he wasn’t as fast or as strong as he was used to.
Kit managed to duck out of his way in time but still felt the power behind his fist as it whistled past her head.
Shadow swung again, this time grabbing onto one of her long ears and pulling down hard.
Kit shrieked, her hands flying to prise his off her, but Shadow flung her against the nearest tree trunk.
He pressed his forearm against her throat, not hard enough to choke her, but enough pressure to make Kit scrabble and panic as she tried to wriggle out of his grasp.
“Your powers,” Shadow leaned close again, crowding her body with his till she couldn’t move an inch. “Lisa said she was helping you grow stronger. What did she mean by that?”
Kit tried to tuck her fingers under his arm, hoping to pull it away from her throat, but Shadow just pressed down harder.
“Tell me!”
“She thinks I might be able to control more than the physical!”
Kit clung to his arm, raising her chin as far as she could to ease the strain on her windpipe, but it had little effect.
“She thinks, with time, I might be able to control the mind as well. See into people. The results are- Ah! They’re limited at the moment but I’m growing stronger with every session. That’s why she invented the bracers, to help me concentrate my powers.”
Shadow narrowed his eyes.
“And take away mine.”
Right on cue, Kit felt the bracers flicker into life again. She closed her eyes, reached out to her power, and pulled it back to her.
Shadow grunted as his back hit the rough bark of a nearby tree, scraping his skin and knocking the air from his lungs.
With her hand wrapped around her throat, Kit pulled in deep breath after deep breath, trying to calm her racing heart.
This was not what she thought convincing Shadow would look like. This was beyond anything she’d ever trained for.
Doubt clouded her mind but she tried to push through the fog. Lisa had entrusted her with this for a reason. She could do this. If Kit ever wanted to find out who she was, if she ever wanted to find a way home, she had to do this.
Kit sighed as she approached Shadow, disappointed that it had come to this. She’d never had to use her power for self defense before. It irked her that she obviously wasn’t very good at it.
“I’m sorry. But you’re just too dangerous, Shadow.”
Kit flicked her hand and lifted him a few feet off the ground, pinning Shadow against the tree trunk until he was forced to meet her gaze.
“They have no reason to trust you. Give them one.”
Shadow huffed. His arms hung limp at his sides now, all his fight gone.
“You can reach into people’s minds?”
Kit flattened the ear he’d grabbed and carefully ran her fingers along its edge, feeling for any tenderness and hissing between her teeth when she found it.
“Barely.”
“For now. How will I know you’re not controlling me?”
Again, Kit was surprised by how much his words hurt.
She didn’t think befriending Shadow would be easy, not by a long shot, but she thought she’d done enough to show that she just wanted him to be happy. Obviously, she was wrong.
Kit had to remind herself that Shadow was frightened, he was alone, and a very long way from everything he’d ever known. She could relate to that, but he didn’t seem to care.
Did he really think so little of her? Kit supposed they still hardly knew anything about each other, apart from what she’d read in the extensive, boggling notes left by Gerald Robotnik and G.U.N. She’d have to fix that. Maybe, if he let her, she could fix him too.
“Hopefully, we’ll get to know each other a little better over time, and you’ll realise what a ridiculous question that is.”
Kit raised her hand and slowly, carefully lowered Shadow to the ground.
She tensed, bracing for another attack, but instead, Shadow sank down, his back sliding against the tree trunk until he was sitting on the ground, his knees drawn up to his chest.
He watched her, and she watched him right back, the freak and the monster, alone in the woods.
At last, Shadow sighed.
“What could I possibly help you with?”
That was the million dollar question. Kit wasn’t sure just how much she was permitted to give away. They weren’t hiding anything from Shadow, not really, not forever. But he was already proving uncooperative and unpredictable. The finer details would be kept close to their chests. For now, all that mattered was making sure Shadow felt at home.
“Look after the forests,” Kit shrugged. “Help people. Learn about this planet. Tell Lisa everything you can about other worlds. And be kind to yourself.”
Kit offered him a wobbly sort of a smile, hoping to claw back some of their already tattered relationship, but of course, Shadow did not return it. He didn’t scoff or try to argue, though, and in that was one small glimmer of hope.
“Isn’t that what you’re for?” Shadow asked. “You’re my keeper, aren’t you?”
Kit began to smile properly then. Was that an attempt at humour? He was a strange one.
“You’re right. I haven’t been doing a very good job.” She moved closer, kicking a stray pebble aside with the toe of her shoe. “But I think you need to meet me halfway, Shadow.”
“Will you leave me alone?”
“I still think we could be good friends.”
Shadow huffed, and it was as close to a real, genuinely mirthful laugh that Kit had ever heard from him.
“You’re crazy,” Shadow muttered.
Kit took a few steps closer, but she wasn’t afraid. If Shadow tried anything, she could easily put him right back down. But he wouldn’t, she was sure of it. He was angry but he wasn’t stupid. He acted forcefully, not thoughtlessly.
“Maybe,” Kit said. “I don’t really know anything about who I am.”
She held out her hand to him, open and empty.
“Help me figure it out?”
Shadow stared at her palm.
She watched a hundred different emotions pass behind his eyes, flashes of light, uncertainty, fear, memories, and under it all, an aching, reaching, grasping, squeezing feeling of longing. He wanted to trust. He wanted to belong. Who didn’t?
Finally, Shadow took her hand and let Kit pull him to his feet.
“Okay.”
/
He awoke in the middle of the night again.
For a few moments, Shadow couldn’t breathe. All he knew were flashes of the inside of a laboratory, stark white walls, a cold metal gurney, and the most overwhelming sense of fear he’d ever known.
Shadow wasn’t sure what was worse, that awful, lonely room, or the blood-soaked pictures that usually haunted his dreams.
He felt better than he had in days but he still wasn’t comfortable. His belly was full, he’d been able to stretch his legs and feel his powers warming his body again, but he was still here, alone in the dark.
Just a few rooms away, Kit was sleeping soundly. He wondered what she dreamt about. She had even less than had. No memories, no one to miss, not even the soft anguish of knowing you were once loved by another, even if that person was now gone.
Kit’s mask of amusement had slipped just a little when he asked her about it, and Shadow was granted a glimpse at the face beneath.
Something, something behind the soft lavender fields of her eyes, was guarded and sharp. He had prodded and poked and picked away at her and found something real and important at last.
Her hand had risen subconsciously to her wrist again, and fiddled with her bracer. Though she claimed she understood the reason behind their use, she didn’t seem completely comfortable with them. Heavy and clumsy, they slipped up and down her wrists as if she still wasn’t completely used to them, even after six months.
I don’t really know anything about who I am. Help me figure it out.
It was an antagonistic thing for her say. Shadow didn’t care about Kit. He didn’t care about this place and its mission. But curiosity, a need to understand his new circumstances, a desire to be free despite everything, forced him to recognise that knowing his captors would be the surest way of surviving them.
Shadow closed his eyes and slipped slowly off to sleep again, his dreams alight with sunbeams cutting through the leaf canopy, of the dewey grass against his fingertips, and the smile on Kit’s face when he agreed to help her.
Anything to shut her up and get her off his back. That smile was his ticket out here.
That smile.
//
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ladyofthe-lake · 3 months ago
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"Dean Winchester is Saved" — a suptober24 ficlet
Summary:
In Hell there is no moon, no bright reflector of light, until the angels come.
In Hell there is no moon.
Dean had never been one for stargazing when he was still topside, but as the years pass in perdition, he swears to himself that if he ever finds his way out of this funhouse of horrors, he’s going to make time to look at the moon every now and then. To let its constancy, its drifting through the night sky, soothe something in him — if anything, at that point, remains.
At the end of each day on Alistair’s rack, there had been little of him left. The body that Dean knows is just an illusion, a manifestation of his soul to allow for the greatest suffering, and it collapses whimpering and pathetic as Alistair retires to wherever he goes for the night, leaving Dean to relive the pain of the day and Alistair’s cold stare.
For thirty years, his arms and legs had been bound to the same rack; Alistair had used every combination of pain he could think of, drawing blood and screams in equal measure as he carved Dean’s soul up with his array of tools.
For thirty years, Dean missed the moon. He wanted to look up, to let a scream rip free into the bowels of hell, and to see, even if just for a moment, the night sky. Whether the moon would be pregnant-full or the sliver of a fingernail, he wanted to see it desperately. To know that others were looking at it too; that he wasn't the only one to see.
All he had, though, were Alistair’s white eyes. No substitute for a moon that pulls and pushes the tides of the Earth’s great oceans. No substitute for a night driving in the Impala down back country roads in search of the next motel room that’ll host his tired body.
Hell is no substitute for anything; Hell is, simply put, the most of itself that anything can be — it is crisp and dark and sharp, it is unrelenting and unforgiving.
In the thirty-first year, Dean had taken enough pain. It was time, finally, to dish it out. He allowed Alistair to guide his hand, starting with the knife before moving to more complex instruments. He felt the splatter of blood, warm on his face, as another poor soul was carved, this time by Dean’s own hand.
The first joy in Hell comes when he finds that he’s good at this. When he carves a waning moon into the skin of some sinner's chest, when he finds its whole, naked face in the split-open pupils of fear. When he’s not cleaving the remains of a soul from itself, he does nothing, thinks of nothing.
In the fortieth year, he’s been doing this for so long that it feels like he was born with a torture instrument in his hand. Alistair’s breath at the back of his neck, urging him forward, is the whisper of wind across the prairie of Kansas. His victims' screams are the first cries he took as a baby, gasping out in a hospital room for air.
In short, Dean Winchester’s life, his memories of the Earth he used to walk, are replaced by his life in Hell, his position as the right hand of Alistair.
In the fortieth year, he looks up one day — or night, the passage of time just endless nothing — and sees a light in the sky that resembles a star. A dying star, an explosion. To its left comes another one, a bright white light like nothing he’s seen in Hell before. He stops what he’s doing, the instrument stilled in his hands, to look up. To gaze at the sky.
The garrison falls through the layers and pathways of Hell, fighting viciously each demon who casts its poor self in their path. The beat of their wings fills Dean’s head and he falls to his knees, covering his ears, but something yanks at his head, pulls him to look up — amidst the stars burning into and out of Hell’s atmosphere is one much larger, a thing to behold with no face nor shape, a Heavenly and winged being, and amid the shooting stars of the fight, it comes straight toward him.
The moon barrels down toward Dean and he watches its face, transfixed, as it collapses into the ocean of demons that surround Alistair’s rack, the central operating base out of which Dean has worked and been worked upon throughout these decades.
The moon fights its way through the lieges of demons that crawl across Hell’s underside, its blade clashing, flashing light with each death. Dean watches, unable to tear his eyes away, stilled with awe at what lays before him.
The demons and the souls in their possession die in numbers unimaginable. The tide of the ocean is drawn toward the righteous man. The moon has its own gravitational pull. The demons that survive follow the being of light, clawing at the edges of it.
The rest of the garrison has landed and joins in the fight, carving a pathway for this central figure to make its way toward him, flashes of starlight distracting Dean’s vision.
When the being reaches Dean, it steps up onto the platform and Dean cannot look at it head-on. He bows his head as if to pray, and the being lays a hand on his shoulder.
Dean Winchester is saved.
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onwardnozward · 2 months ago
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The Great and Terrible Humbug of Nebraska
Oscar Zoroaster Diggs was the son of a failed politician, growing up for the first part of his childhood in Omaha, Nebraska during the 1840s. His father was a cowardly humbug, relying upon the blinding greed of others to achieve his goals, however the one thing he was capable of teaching his son was how not to achieve success. Oscar was a dreamer, he saw the potential in his father’s lies, in the stupidity of men in power. From a young age, he knew the only thing he lacked was his own power to put his ideas into action.
The sins of his father would later catch up to the man, as he left Oscar behind without as much as a note before skipping town. The kid would roam for a while, before falling in with a traveling circus having stopped for a rest. It was here that Oscar would find his first home, finding familiarity in the carnie circuit as he got to experience adventure upon the midwestern prairies of the 1850s, and here where he earned his title and act, “the Great and Powerful O.Z., Sorcerer Extraordinaire from Faraway Lands.” Merely a con, he fabricated a story of having learned the Ancient Wisdom from the great crowned mystics and monks from Europe to Asia, using his learned talents for the manipulation of divination cards, sleight of hand, illusion, ventriloquism and mimicry in order to sell his act.
Years would pass, acts would be traded in for others and money would be lost with it, as well as general disinterest as the country closed in upon war. Oscar had grown almost disinterested in the circus, as his dreams of power had regained traction with his age. He tired of performing illusions to the everyday uneducated bumpkin in exchange for spare change. During his travels in the circus, he had overheard the older carnies and magicians talk of practices from older societies, of grimoires that held the key to power, the ability to control the very weave of reality. He had replaced his hobby of illusion and tarot divination with a true devotion to uncovering the secrets of the occult and ancient mysticism. It was during this time that he would become associated with the high ranking clerics and priests of the Theosophical Society, and the truth of the stories that had fueled his new found passion, the Lemegeton.
Many phony replicas had been produced in the centuries since its binding, however after tracing down the origins of the grimoires mythology, digging through many crypts only ‘said-to-be’ belonging to obsolete kings, Oscar would uncover the reason as to why the true Lemegeton had never been recovered; the court sorcerers of the dead king had recited a ritual to hide the book away beyond the veil of mortality, within the Other World.
Oscar Zoroaster Diggs was the son of a failed politician, desperate to prove he was better than the hand he was dealt. In the 1870s, he would research the ceremony to cross the planes of reality under the tutelage of his former associates, arrange the proper sacrifices, and hijack an old hot air balloon used for advertising the circus to sail into the arcane vortex ripped into the atmosphere by the ritual.
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97-liners · 1 year ago
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characters: mingyu, a gender neutral y/n
tags: zombie apocalypse, horror
warnings: major character death, gore, gun violence (and other violence, idk this is a zombie apocalypse setting), resource scarcity (see setting), mentions of a global pandemic (see setting)
60-minute free writing exercise
words: 2.3k
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.
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Mingyu was silent when he died.
Your hand on the trigger, his knees at your feet, you looked down the barrel to see him crying. In a moment of clarity, he had stopped fighting, and he was Mingyu again. Your Mingyu. And you knew that it was your Mingyu, that he still loved you, because he let his hands still at his sides and sat back on his heels, eyes glassy and wide and terrified, afraid to die, but afraid of what would happen if he didn’t. And because you knew he loved you, and because you loved him, loved him so much it was like a vice grip on your chest and on your finger-- because you loved him, you didn’t let his last little gift go to waste. Before the moment of clarity could pass, you pulled the trigger.
That was a week ago.
Now, you’re in your car-- his car, Mingyu’s old Toyota that he bought when he graduated college and got his first real engineering job. The days are long, and the nights are dark, but you have a destination in mind. The two of you were going to go to California together, where there’s a large settlement on the coast. In the last days before the cell towers went down, Mingyu had been on the phone with one of his old childhood friends, talking about it. “Let’s go,” his hand on yours, chest full of that stupid optimism that got him through junior year and the first six months of his shitty job in Jersey City and the time the two of you were stuck waiting for the MTA for 45 minutes, “Minghao says there's space for two.”
You’re alone now, driving through Nebraska on the I-80. There’s gas stockpiled in the trunk, and there’s still about a hundred miles until you get to Cheyenne, where you’ll get out and look for a gas station with still-functional pumps. The shotgun is on the passenger seat, accompanying you like a friend— like a lover. (There’s still blood and brains in the crevices of the gun. You spent hours with a rag next to a muddy puddle of water by the side of the road, wiping down every square inch you could see. Fresh water is hard to come by, however, and it’s not smart to stay in one place for too long. Hell, you haven’t even been able to shower in weeks. Your skin still bears the chemical burns from when you had wiped yourself down in bleach. It hurt, but you couldn’t risk the virus getting into your bloodstream, even accidentally.)
It’s sunny today. Nearly painfully bright. It feels like it shouldn’t be this sunny, not after everything that’s happened. But the sun is distant and uncaring and beats relentlessly down on the rolling plains around you.
And then, from miles away, you see it— a rest stop. The light-up sign has long since blinked out, but the shape is unmistakeable in the sea of blond grass rippling in the wind. A box-shaped building, next to it the hollowed-out remains of a Wendy’s. And a gas station. The huge kind, with two rows of pumps and a parking lot. Your breath hitches as you get closer and closer and the details materialize into view. There’s even gas prices still posted on the sign — under five bucks a gallon. That must have been put up before people started panicking in earnest and entrepreneurial gas station owners cranked up the prices to fifteen, twenty dollars a gallon, until the power lines went down and cell service went out and paying with a credit card didn’t really matter anymore. This far out into the country, when it’s been hours since you last saw anything but miles of prairie in every direction and the empty cassette ribbon of the I-80 cutting through the land, there’s a real possibility that the gas station and the accompanying convenience store might still be intact.
You pull into the parking lot. The windows are unbroken and the door is still chained shut — a good sign. You reach behind to grab the crowbar from the back seat, and when you twist back forward, you’re almost certain you catch a glimpse of Mingyu in the passenger seat. A flash of golden tan skin, of scruffy black hair, and you swear you could almost see his face, but when you turn around fully, the passenger seat is empty, save for the shotgun. And in an instant, you make the stupid decision to leave the car without bringing the gun. It’s quiet, you rationalize. There’s nobody out here. Nothing out here.
(In the days since he died, you think you’ve been hallucinating. You see the fuzzy figure of Mingyu in reflections, in shadows, in the staticky darkness when you close your eyes. Maybe it’s normal. After all, the two of you were always together, even before the pandemic. Since the first time he told you he loved you, this has been the longest time the two of you have been apart. Will be apart. Forever, you brain supplies unhelpfully.)
The door is easy to pry off its hinges, and the glass breaks but it doesn’t shatter. The inside of the convenience store is everything you had hoped for— dark, cobwebbed, but stocked full of mass-produced junk food filled with preservatives. They’re calories, artificially fortified with nutrients and chemical flavoring, meant to last for years on a shelf. Immediately, you head to where the granola bars are and begin to empty the shelves, filling your backpack in the process. Your mind is thinking ahead — this is more than enough food to last you the entire trip. This is enough to feed a couple of people for a few weeks. Is there food in Minghao’s settlement in California? How much should you take? Can all of this fit in your car? How many trips back and forth should you make?
Your stomach grumbles and you’re reminded that you’re hungry— it’s been a few days— so you take a Clif bar off the shelf and tear open the wrapper. You eat ravenously.
(Mingyu was always good at cooking. He knew how to make every soup imaginable, how to pull together the end of the month pantry staples and wilted produce and fill your tiny Brooklyn apartment with the smell of home. He knew how to fish, how to gut and clean the dirty little perch that he pulled from the Hudson, how to fry them over a fire to make them taste less like mud and more like food. How to build the fire so the smoke wouldn’t be seen, how to put it out so the embers wouldn’t give away your campsite.
You can’t cook. You’ve never had to learn, not with Mingyu by your side.)
Like your own shadow, little piece of Mingyu follow you as you make your way up and down the aisles. It’s just the hallucinations, you tell yourself. At the end of the cereal aisle, you stand still for a moment and stare at yourself in the fisheye reflection of the security mirror mounted on the ceiling. The store is dark, and the mirror is dusty. For a moment, you think you can see Mingyu standing next to you. You see him, tall, broad, alive, so beautiful he might be an angel.
It’s still breathlessly silent around you, however. You know Mingyu can’t be standing beside you, because the air around you feels empty. But there he is, in the blurry reflection of a convenience store security mirror. You blink, and he’s still there.
Suddenly, you begin to feel uneasy. He’s just another hallucination, isn’t he? The mirror is too blurry for you to get a good look at his face, and a large part of you doesn't want to see his face anyway. You're certain it’s him in the reflection. You could recognize him anywhere just from the way he stands. But something about his figure isn’t quite right.
You know what you need to do. You need to look to your side, where he’s standing in the mirror. You know, whatever it is you’re seeing, you need to just turn your head to the side and look to know what it is. Just look, it seems to tell you. I’m right here, Mingyu says.
You blink, and the Mingyu in the reflection is gone.
It’s just you, standing there in a dark convenience store, backpack open in your hands. And uneasily, you laugh. “Hey, Mingyu,” you say aloud. It’s been a week since you last said anything, and your voice sounds thin and reedy in your head. You don’t hear a response.
“Mingyu, wouldn’t it be fucked up if ghosts were real too?”
A few months ago, zombies were just something you’d see in a video game or TV show. Maybe it’s not a hallucination, but you’re not sure if that makes you feel better.
By the time you’re done raiding the convenience store, several trips back and forth to your car later, the back seat is stocked with all kinds of shelf-stable calorie-dense food. Like little luxuries, you made sure to leave some room for toilet paper, for shampoo and soap, for toothpaste, for a few boxes of instant coffee. You still need to fill up the two empty gas cans in the trunk, but first, you think you’ll use the bathrooms here.
The doors to the bathroom are on the outside of the building, and you find the keys hanging by the staff break room in the back of the store. It takes a few tries, but eventually the key turns in the lock and you’re able to push the heavy steel door open with your body weight.
As soon as the door closes behind you with a loud bang, you instantly get a bad feeling. Everything in your intuition is telling you to run. The bathroom is dark, save for one humming emergency light still illuminated overhead, and it’s completely silent. You exhale, and the sound bounces off the tiled walls and floors, whispering before settling back into that tense silence from a moment ago.
By the entrance, there are three sinks lined up in front of a large cracked mirror. You peer around the corner to see three stalls, each separated by a wall, with tall floor-to-ceiling doors that don’t leave even a centimeter of a gap between the wall. It’s still completely silent, but the persistent buzzing undercurrent of anxiety in your head is screaming at you— something isn’t right. You inch forward, skin prickling, and lightly push on the first door. It swings open. Then, you push on the third door, which also opens. You place your hand on the center door, and you can immediately tell that it’s locked.
But the bathroom is so, so quiet. Even when you stand still, glued to your spot in front of the stalls, and listen, you don’t hear anything. It’s empty, it has to be. You glance back over your shoulder at the wide mirror hanging over the sinks, and you half-expect to see Mingyu standing next to you again, but all you see is yourself—dirty, greasy, haggard— and the bathroom behind you. It’s empty.
Slowly and quietly, you walk past the center stall and enter the last one. There’s no toilet paper, but it doesn’t matter. You finish peeing and consider flushing the toilet. There’s probably still water in the tank. But something about creating all that noise doesn’t sit right with you, so you decide to forgo the last little bit of socialization clinging to your brain and exit the stall. You should probably wash your hands, you realize, so you step up to the sink and turn one of handles and, to your surprise, a stream of clean water dribbles out.
You put your hand under the water. It feels decadent. It feels like an unspeakable luxury, as you push on the soap dispenser and let some of the pink slime fall into your palm, as you lather it up into a foam. You scrub at your hands, trying your best to get out every last bit of dirt and blood embedded beneath your fingernails. And when your hands are rubbed raw but clean, you cup your hands and collect some water to rinse your face with. You wash your face with the same pink liquid soap you used to wash your hands, something you would be aghast at in another life, but now it practically feels like a spa day. Weeks of grime dissolving under your fingertips and swirling down the drain.
You shut off the water and reach for the paper towel dispenser. Maybe the bathroom really is empty and your instincts are all wrong. The door to the middle stall could be jammed, or it could have been locked by building staff before the pandemic even broke out. It would be stupid of you not to come back and fill a jug with clean water, no matter what your intuition says.
For a moment, you stand stock-still, just so you can get another gauge on the bathroom. The last bit of water leaves the sink drain and it’s silent again. You watch yourself in the mirror, hold your breath, try to sense even the tiniest shift in the air. It smells like Mingyu, you realize. Clean and soapy and warm. It’s the same scent his skin used to carry. Like he’s here, next to you.
The bathroom is silent.
Your reflection stares back at you. The overhead light casts harsh shadows over your face, leaving your eyes dark and empty.
The bathroom is silent.
Mingyu’s scent, but it’s not comforting at all. Not in the way you used to nudge your nose against his throat during lazy Sunday mornings and inhale his warmth. Not in the way you’d wear his hoodies and press your face against the lining.
The bathroom is silent. And then, with a click, the middle door unlocks.
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everydayesterday · 1 year ago
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the CBC hit job on buffy sainte-marie is truly baffling. the claim is that, because her white parents' names are on her birth certificate, and because she has a younger sister from that same family, who is very much lily-white, she is not legitimately a member of the piapot first nation.
let me use a personal example showing the idiocy of this determination by the CBC. my son is black. once the adoption process went through, he was issued a new birth certificate showing my ex-wife and I as his legal birth parents. we are both white. it is quite obvious that we are not his birth parents, but that's what the birth certificate says (the original birth certificate showing his black parentage is sealed and unavailable except through court order; that how it works).
are you seeing where I'm going with this?
while no one would ever suggest that my ex and I are claiming our son is white, many in the first nations are "white-passing" (you can decide for yourself if you think buffy "passes").
she has always claimed that she doesn't know with certainty her true ancestry, and ultimately understood that she was adopted as an infant, tracing that back to saskatchewan (buffy says this is because her adoptive mother ultimately straight-up told her she was adopted from an unwed mother somewhere north of the piapot first nation).
the CBC also points to inconsistencies in how buffy's heritage was documented in the press, though they're not really inconsistencies. their investigation states that some referred to her as cree (the piapot nation is cree), algonquin (the anishinaabe language group that extends into the canadian prairies includes algonquin and oji-cree), or half-mi'kmaq (her adoptive mother, while white-passing, did actually claim connection to the mi'kmaq, so even that isn't inconsistent if that was before she knew about being adopted from saskatchewan).
claiming that her adoptive white parents *must* be her birth parents is erasure of that [possible/probable/whatever] first nations heritage; it's pure and simple racism (and if you're shocked by racism against the aboriginal community in canada, you're ignoring the country's entire history and present-day situation).
that she has a younger sister or a second cousin who know nothing of a possible connection to the piapot first nation doesn't really mean a damn thing—if buffy was raised as white, then that's all that her younger sister would've known; you can't blame buffy for her sister being kept in the dark.
all that the CBC investigation does is confirm what buffy sainte-marie has always said, which is that she doesn't know with certainty who her birth parents are, and provide yet another example of the mess that interracial adoptees face in figuring out their cultural heritage.
[also, regardless of her birth, she was adopted as an adult into the piapot first nation 60 years ago (they didn't have a problem doing so), which legitimates her status. she has spent her adult life connecting to that first nation and working to support aboriginal recognition and rights.]
[EDIT: Yes, it could be a big lie. I didn't feel that the evidence proved anything beyond a doubt, and to my knowledge her parents never actually denied her supposed Cree ancestry—Albert Santamaria died in 1998; Winifred in 2010. The information about the birth certificate hit home with me as an adoptive parent. I wouldn't understand her motivations if it is all a lie.]
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novistarplanet · 2 years ago
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Prairie View
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CowboyTenkoShigaraki x MailBride!Reader pt1
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summary: Who said growing up in a small town would be hard? But when unforeseen events happen in your life causing you to move miles over towns and marry a certain Blue hair gapped cowboy
cw: 1.7k
wc: applied female reader,Separation, mentions of being sold, Fluff, anxiety, death of a parent, marriage, shig with a gap, first name, country accents. lmk if I missed anything!
A/n: I tried to give them accents so if its horrible I'm sorry in advance also I initially imagine this to be a black reader but it could be anything you want it to be ALSO im making this into 3 parts!!
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Walking towards the train through the thick crowds of townsfolk, all waiting for the train to stop.
You couldn’t help but think about your new life waiting for you. Your hand tightens on the handle of your big leather suitcase, carrying all your memories and treasures of your old life.
“Y/N WAIT!!” just as you were about to board the train, you turn back to see your brother Jake waving his hands 
“Jake, what are you doin here?? you shouldn'a be out theyer taking care of Granny?” 
“m'couldn'a let ya leavin' witout this” He takes your hands into his dirty big ones and places an old silver heart-shaped locket in your hands
your left speechless as he pulls you into a hug “ now don'tcha forget' to write me and grann' dun’t let the big city make ya forget about us”
You freed yourself from his embrace and kissed his forehead, tears flooding your waterline and sniffing up as you wish him farewell. Taking a foot inside the train, leaving the life you once knew behind.
a couple of minutes pass everyone seated and chatting you took it upon yourself to look out the window and looked at all the trees passing by.
you couldn’t help but stare down at your locket, opening it and revealing an old wrinkled photo of your family. Featuring a younger version of you and Jake, both of your parents, and your grandmother. 
Your grandmother was a mail-order bride being sold off by her parents when she turned 16. She told you many stories about her husband on dark nights when brushing your hair.
She never wanted you to experience what she did, but life did after your parents' tragic death and your grandmother's illness forced your remaining family into intense debt.
A couple of months ago, you were looking for ads in newspapers for any able jobs. it wasn’t uncommon for a woman in your town to work as a live home nanny.
flipping through the pages you came across the mail bride section.
You always walked pass the bullet board for them heading towards the town's bakery. Sometimes you took time to read, and them only wondered how much confidence it took to entertain the idea.
but the ad you saw was different.
he was a young rancher from a big town a couple of towns over from yours. He was short and straight to the point, saying how he needed someone to take of the housley chores and most importantly an heir.
you immediately went into your father's old study and wrote up a letter.
you poured out your heart and soul into the letter writing long tales explaining how you were the perfect fit.
of course, when your grandmother found out she was upset ranting on and on about how you could just work at the bakery or maybe as a teacher in the nearby schoolhouse.
but once you told her about his letter and how he's offering to send double the money back home she could no longer put up a fight.
as more and more letters got sent and sent off your grandmother soon found out about his status in his town
She told you a man of his reputation you must display eloquence and grace with each step you took
she even took her time and sewed you up some of your mother's old fancier dresses.
you snapped right out of your trance as the train stopped with a loud “CHOO-CHOO” looking around and noticing a bunch of people stepping out the door
once you walked out the door, you were greeted with a bunch more active sight people going in and out of other trains, horses tilting their heads back and forth trying to take off and people being reunited with others.
You looked around for your future husband during the time you two spent sending letters to each other. Tenko described some of his features in the letters he sent.
he had a long scar that crossed his lip, dark red eyes, and long blue locs.
you couldn’t wait to see him scanning the crowds of people until your head stopped at one rancher with a brown cowboy hat with a symbol of a horse in the middle of it
as you and he locked eyes, he can rush towards you.
using his pants to rub off the dust before taking the bags from your hands and leading you up on the covered wagon 
using his hand as a booster for you to get onto the seat next to he's
“ atta' girl Aah hope the train ride weren’t too rough on ya” 
“no, it was alright I just didn’t expect it to be so long”. a small smile crept on your face the way he’s hand scratched his neck as he was trying to come up with small talk is sweet.
you can tell he’s nervous 
“Well, the trip to the ranch an’t all’ dat long I guarantee ya that we can go and fix up some supper for ya”
“ I’ll lac'k that very much” opening up a bright smile towards him
“’M right then”
You didn’t miss the way he’s cheeks turned red
he hops on the wagon grabbing the two handles that connect to the horse's saddle “Giddyip!”
and with that, the wagon started to move with a couple bumps here and there you couldn’t stop to think this was it.
You are here far away from your family and friends and here in this new town. It looked nice from what you saw it definitely wasn’t a small town you weren’t used to.
you wondered if you could even fit in here Tenko spoke so well it only proved himself to be of the upper class.
meanwhile where you came from your folks only knew so much and were taught so little
looking back seeing dust and dust combine in the air and looking at all the faded buildings in your visons.
"I'm guessin' you ‘dudn’t come from a big city?"
“hm?” you turned to him staring at him for a couple of seconds before he began talking again
"T’s way your ‘lookit at me an’ all’ tells me your aint from nowhere near these parts" He looks right at you only for a brief moment before taking his attention back onto the trail.
"me and mah family comes from a little small town. Everyone knows everyone." Staring up back at him you could read his face almost like he didn't know what to say.
he took he's head and just nodded.
for the rest of the ride, you two sat in complete silents. It would be an understatement to say you are nervous. Your grandmother told you on the first day of her marriage they had sex immediately.
you hope he wasn't like that.
"im afraid were here" the horses came to a halt and with that, your head quickly bounced up, and took a look around.
wealthy was a lie.
he was loaded.
green grass as far as the eye can even see a river the size of the ocean circling with the fresh cool breeze causing your hair to blow in the wind. A big ol red barn full of animals, horsing roaming across the wide large field chewing on the long grass that reached mid-way at your leg along with a white house with fences surrounding it.
you'll have a lot to tell granny about.
a low chuckle came from beside you "Im guessin' you lik the place?"
the only thing you could even do is move your head up and down. This place was nothing like anything you had seen before.
"lemme git ya down and I can give ya a tour" He took the two black stallions into the barn cubby making sure their feed and their gates are properly shut.
he reappears in your vision coming up to your side and sticking his hand out for you to use. Once you got down he went and grab your luggage.
"follow me" you lead right behind him walking on the Stoney pathway towards his house well your house now too.
with each step you take on the stairs to the door you start to feel even more homesick it doesn't make a loud CREK! sound like yours do.
" c'mon in ill show ya your room" tapping you lightly on your shoulder.
you begin to bite hard on your lip to the point where blood almost drew
with a quick glance at the door putting all your anxiety in the world in your palms you went in before him taking a few steps forward looking back and seeing him close the door.
He wasn't able to move well not the way you were standing right in front of him gaping at the interior of the house.
the outside didn't do the house any justice.
he chuckled a little at her starstruck-ness
" 'm guessin your gonna lac your room then?" he bends his head down and chuckles a little "ill give you a tour of the place once your settled in"
"we can go now i dont wanna stall on you or nothing"
“ ’M right then”
he leads you up the shiny wooden stairs dissecting the painting that hung from the wall looking at one and noticing the child version of Tenko in the painting. Just looking at these paintings tells you he comes from old money.
taking you to a well-light hallway with pink flower wallpaper on the walls he stops at a birch door and quickly unlocks it.
Once he open the door it was like you were in a new world you took a look at the high ceiling, the soft velvet carpet the shining white vanity with pearls and rings present, and dresses hanging on the dressing screen.
“M’ room is across the room down the right hallway if you need me for anythin’. With that, he placed the luggage down onto your new bed.
You couldn't help yourself but smile at him.
For the first time throughout the trip, he showed you a wide smile showing a little gap.
“Thank you so much for the opportunity I am forever grateful”
he walks over to you his hand placing itself on your lower back while his other hand is tilting your head to look at him placing a warm kiss on your forehead.
“get some sleep Y/n”
maybe living here won't be so bad.
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©NoviSt3rplanet/I do not like reposting, modifying, or translating on any platforms! thank you 🤎
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nancypullen · 1 month ago
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It Is What It Is & It Is Not Great
Anyone else just existing right now? We have a grace period of about two months, and the incoming regime is making preparations to be every bit as horrible as we'd expect. Possibly worse. Right now I feel like doing one of two things: 1. Sell the house and car and keep only treasured items in storage. Buy a ticket to Amsterdam and spend the next four years wearing out our visas country by country. I think most European countries allow you to stay 3 months (90 days) without a visa, so really, we could even hop country to country without having to worry about that. or 2. Buy some land, just a few acres, build a little house and start growing and raising enough food for our family. This appeals to me. Although I know i could grow and can food, the "raising" part would have to just be chickens for the eggs because I can't kill and eat an animal that I've named and loved. So that's basically all of them. I'm willing to become Ma Ingalls and churn butter and make cheese. I'll isolate myself out on the prairie while the world goes mad. Pretty sure that the mister would choose option 1. I'm trying to keep myself busy. I'm preparing for Christmas like a mad woman. It was raining boxes here on Sunday so I wrapped gifts and tied bows while listening to a murder podcast (I mean, it was a holiday murder). Matt will be home for Thanksgiving, but the Edgewater gang will be in Tennessee, so ours will be a small holiday. I've ordered a pie from Craft Bakery (yum!) and we'll probably go into D.C. to the Christmas Market and spend an evening there. That'll be fun. Fall colors are fading here, but it's still pretty. I sat in my porch spot today and listened to birds sing in this tree.
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Squirrels are rushing around, getting ready for winter. I read somewhere that they forget 75% of the nuts they bury. Same, squirrel, same. How many things have I put in a "safe place" only to never see them again?
While I was in Florida I checked the ring doorbell after a package delivery and noticed that twoo of my little porch pumpkins were out on the sidewalk. There hadn't been a storm or even a windy day that might have caused them to roll off the porch steps. I checked back later and saw this guy rolling one away.
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Okay, that's a terribly blurry screenshot, but it's a squirrel making off with one of my pumpkins. When I got home from my trip I spotted this.
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So I scooped up all of the pumpkins and put them in the back yard for a royal feast.
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They've been having a ball with them. At any given time I can peek out a window and see six or eight fluffy tails poking up around the pumpkins. I hope their tummies are full. Molly is loving watching the action from her bedroom perch.
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In an attempt to enjoy the last bit of autumn color we went ove rto Adkins Arboretum one afternoon for a hike. The weather was perfect, and I just love the quiet. Bird songs, woodpeckers at work, crunchy leaves, fresh air - just what I needed.
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Time in a forest is time well spent. That was followed by a weekend visit with our grandgirl who leaves laughter and fairy dust in her wake. We talked about Christmas, played unicorn school (long story) and raked leaves in pajamas (another long story).
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I finally took down my Harris/Walz sign, with a heavy heart, but I did replace it.
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So that's what I'm doing on this end, searching for scraps of joy and hanging onto them for dear life. The colors of autumn, a giggling grandgirl, holidays with people I love - it gives me glimmers of hope. There is always something to care about, to smile about, even if it's just a beautiful moon or a happy wren singing. All those little moments add up. Savor them. Sending out so much love tonight. Help yourself to what you need and pass it on. That's how we'll get through this, by holding each other up. Take care of yourselves, my dears. Stay safe, stay well. XOXO, Nancy
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scotianostra · 4 months ago
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The Scottish folk singer Jean Redpath died on August 21st 2014.
Blessed with a sweet but slightly roughened mezzo-soprano as gentle as mist and haunting as the highlands, Jean Redpath was one of the definitive interpreters of Scottish traditional songs. She was also a noted folk music ethnographer who played an important role in the reconstruction of nearly forgotten Scottish songs and was a lecturer at Scotland's Stirling University since 1979, and also lectured regularly at Wesleyan University in Middletown, Connecticut and other prominent institutions, including Harvard.
She was born in Fife country outside Edinburgh. Her father played hammered dulcimer, and her mother was well versed in Scottish oral history, most of which was passed from mother to daughter via songs. One of four daughters, their mother passed on the music to each. Her knowledge of the ancient songs proved useful while Redpath was attending the School of Scottish Studies at the University of Edinburgh and had begun formal research into her native ballads and compositions.
In 1961 she immigrated to New York, where she began singing in Greenwich Village coffeehouses. Redpath also gave formal concerts at events such as the Lincoln Center's Mostly Mozart Festival and soon became an extremely popular performer on the folk circuit. Not only did they love her unique, sensitive voice, audiences were also impressed by her knowledge about the over 400 songs in her repertoire and the fascinating insights about the music that Redpath offered during her concerts.
In 1963 she sang for the first time at the New School for Social Research and this led her to sign with Elektra, where she recorded through 1975, when she switched to the Vermont-based Philo label. With them she became one of folk music's most prolific recording artists. One of her most notable achievements was an ongoing project to record all of the songs written by Robert Burns. Out of 22 planned volumes, only seven were completed due to the death of producer Serge Hovey. Other well-known Redpath series include a compilation of Scottish songs written by women, including Lady Nairne, if you recall I posted her rendition of one last week.
In addition to recording and performing live, Redpath also appeared on such radio programs as Morning Pro Musica on Boston's WGBH public radio station. Between 1974 and 1987 Redpath was also a regular on Garrison Keillor's Prairie Home Companion radio show. In August 2014 she died from cancer at a hospice in Arizona at the age of 77.
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aggiepython · 8 months ago
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a piece i did for a class on native american history, inspired by Murder on the Red River by Marcie Rendon (more info under cut)
“She bounded down two concrete stairs and stepped out on to the green grass of the campus mall, surrounded on either side by thick stately oaks. She could tell each one had been strategically planted along the winding sidewalks between the red brick buildings. Even with groups of students sitting on the grass, leaning against their trunks, the trees seemed lonely. Nothing like the oaks along the river that grew where they wanted to grow and leaned in and touched each other with their middle branches, whose voices sang through their leaves like the hum of electric wires running alongside the country roads.” From Murder on the Red River
This piece is inspired by Murder on the Red River, a mystery novel by Marcie Rendon. It’s about Cash Blackbear, a young Ojibwe woman who investigates the murder of a Native man. Cash was taken from her mother and siblings as a young child and lived in a series of foster homes, most of which were abusive. About a third of Native American children were taken from their parents and placed in foster homes, even when they could have been placed with relatives instead of being separated from their community members and culture. Native American boarding schools, which also separated children from their families and culture, had mostly all been shut down by the 1970s (Katherine Beane), when Murder on the Red River takes place. But the removal of children to foster homes was just another way that the government tried to force Native Americans to assimilate into white culture. The Indian Child Welfare Act was passed in 1978. It set requirements to keep Native children with relatives when safe and possible, and to work with the tribe and family of children. This act has made progress, though Native children are still adopted or placed in foster care at a higher rate than non-Native children (NICWA). In my illustration, there are four trees, representing Cash, her mother, and her two siblings. In the image on the right, the trees are growing as they do in their natural forest habitat, winding together. In the image on the left, the trees have been planted on the neat lawn of the college campus, a place where white culture is dominant. The trees are apart from each other, separated as Cash’s family were torn apart. They were forced to assimilate as many Native Americans were. The trees are bur oaks, aka Quercus macrocarpa, a species native to North Dakota where the book takes place. Their range encompasses much of the U.S. and parts of Canada (Lady Bird Johnson Wildflower Center). The grass on the right image is Kentucky Bluegrass, aka Poa pratensis. It is invasive to North America. It was introduced in the 17th century from Europe, and is now found all over North America. It is commonly used for lawns and pasture, and can outcompete native prairie plants (North Dakota State Library). The Red River borders North Dakota and Minnesota. The Ojibwe have lived in Minnesota since before the 17th century, after migrating from Northeastern North America over hundreds of years (Minnesota Historical Society). The shape of the Red River traces through the image, weaving and intermingling through the branches of the trees, showing Cash’s deep connection with the land she is from.
Works Cited “About IWCA” National Indian Child Welfare Association, https://www.nicwa.org/about-icwa/ Beane, Katherine, American Indians in Minnesota, 12 March 2024, Nicholson Hall, Minneapolis, MN. Lecture. “Kentucky Bluegrass”, North Dakota State Library. https://www.library.nd.gov/statedocs/AgDept/Kentuckybluegrass20070703.pdf Rendon, Marcie. Murder on the Red River. Soho Crime, 2017. “The Ojibwe People”, Minnesota Historical Society, https://www.mnhs.org/fortsnelling/learn/native-americans/ojibwe-people “Quercus macrocarpa”, Lady Bird Johnson Wildflower Center, https://www.wildflower.org/plants/result.php?id_plant=QUMA2
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jabbage · 11 months ago
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spinningorigins · 1 year ago
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So it's my birthday tomorrow.
I thought about sharing my thoughts regarding my aunt and uncles passing, and everything they took with them, but I don't think I will. Here's some memories from them instead.
When I was ten, my sister and I went to the Salina mall, which was dying even back then. The arcade was hopping though, and we found a side-scrolling, 4 player X-men game. It was fun, but we were no good at it. This group of teenage boys came up and I thought they were going to kick us off, but instead they took turns on the other two player slots and carried us through the game. I remember the thrill of it, that very human connection of strangers coming together to overcome a challenge. That this gang of teens looked at us and decided they were gonna help these little girls win the game. I never got their names, and I never saw them again, but I hope the stresses of living in a small midwestern town were not overwhelming to them.
The Flint Hills are some of the most beautiful country I've ever been through. The prevailing thought about Kansas is that it's flat as a board, but that isn't really the case. The hills are low, yes, but they roll like waves on the ocean. There is movement in the land. It's mostly pastureland with some prairie restoration areas. When we went out in the summer for the county fair, it was a million shades of green, dotted with wildflowers and cows. But when we went for Thanksgiving, the land was precious metals; copper, silver, gold, rusted iron. A world of autumn color without the need for trees. The sunset fills the entire sky.
The grass is different in Kansas, from what we have here. In my aunt and uncles lawn, and at their farm, with the lilac bushes where I saw my first swallowtail butterfly. It stays low, and its leaves grow sideways, at angles. They interlock and form a soft cushion that feels very nice to walk on. It's probably invasive; the whole area was big and little bluestem once. That was long before me.
I'll probably never see it again. They were the only reason we ever went out to that town. Now they're gone, and the farm will be sold, and the house I spent so much time in will be sold, and all of these things are behind me now. But tomorrow is my birthday.
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butmakeitgayblog · 2 years ago
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How would MBFW Clarke and Lexa handle Valentine’s Day. Would they normally do valentines celebrations when they were both single and just ignore talking about it when one of them had a date?
It's cute that you think they would ignore it when they're in a relationship 😅
There's a reason the longest real continuous relationships either can manage lasts roughly 12-18 months. It's always the same timeline, ~inexplicably~, just long enough for Christmas, New Years, birthdays, and valentine's day to roll through. Once all those pass, said partner really sees the image become incredibly clear that,,, holy fuckin shit these two idiots are dating each other
If they're not on the same side of country, the first order of business for the day would be to "surprise" each other with a gift package (they do this every year. neither is surprised. No one is surprised). Lexa showing up to work to an overflowing bouquet of flowers crammed onto her desk. Nothing as prosaic as roses tho. More fanciful choices like buttercups and lilies of the Incas, tropical picks from places they've vacationed together, assorted prairie wildflowers, fringed tulips because Lexa once said she likes the way they tickle her nose. Sometimes new writing journals, fancy leather ones embossed with her initials and gold lining to make her feel like a big deal writer. Sometimes a new handmade scented candle from a seminar Clarke just so happened to take just for fun. Clarke generally gets sweets, sometimes tickets to a show or museum she's offhandedly mentioned she wanted to see, sometimes an art piece Lexa saw and just felt Clarke should own. Of course those come with cards that, for them, are perfectly chaste, and yet each somehow seem to know better than to let anyone else get their hands on them 🤔... just cuz, ya know, it's personal.
And they facetime at some point, because they have to, even if it's only for a few minutes. Because even if they're in a relationship that doesn't mean they're ever not each other's valentine. It's just "in a different way."
They really can't understand why their significant others don't seem to be able to get it 🤨
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piizunn · 1 year ago
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harvest 16/9/23
harvest 9/16/23
i think i saw jupiter that night. 
when i am out in the country i try to hold my breath so that i do not miss a single note the land has to offer.
i burn the image into my eyes 
of the sun set over the foothills and mountains beyond. 
great teeth biting into ripe fruit. 
seated in a circle we passed our meal around
it brought to mind a story an Elder once told me, of spirits feeding each other with long spoons from a shared pot. 
the air was warm the way late summer is with the smell of the solstice, drying leaves, wild rose hips, the sweetgrass fields, and a reminder of cold nights to come. 
the headlights of a truck parked on the grass illuminated our path, avoiding the prairie dog dens. 
the sky seems a lot closer to us out here on the plains. i made a promise to myself that one day i will be able to name every planet, star, and constellation in the languages of my ancestors, and ask the question of how far through time and across
the distance between us
did this light travel to visit on the night of the harvest dinner. 
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minni6419 · 7 months ago
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Williston Basin International Airport: Connecting a Growing City in North Dakota.
In the vast expanse of North Dakota, where the prairie stretches to meet the endless sky, lies the city of Williston. Nestled in the heart of the Bakken Formation, Williston is known for its thriving energy industry, drawing workers and investors from across the country. However, with growth comes the need for better infrastructure, and in 2019, the city unveiled its newest asset: the Williston Basin International Airport (XWA).
Best Things To Do In Williston, North Dakota United States.
Spanning over 1,400 acres, XWA represents a significant investment in the region's transportation infrastructure. It replaces the aging Sloulin Field International Airport, which struggled to keep pace with the city's burgeoning population and economic activity. With a modern terminal, expanded runway, and improved facilities, XWA is poised to meet the needs of both residents and visitors alike.
One of the key features of XWA is its ability to accommodate larger aircraft, including Boeing 737s and Airbus A320s. This allows airlines to offer more routes and increased capacity, opening up Williston to a wider range of travelers. Whether it's business executives flying in for meetings or families visiting loved ones, XWA serves as a gateway to the region.
In addition to its passenger services, XWA also plays a crucial role in supporting the area's oil and gas industry. The airport is equipped to handle cargo flights, transporting equipment, supplies, and personnel to remote oil fields across North Dakota and beyond. This logistical support is essential for companies operating in the region, helping to keep operations running smoothly and efficiently.
But XWA is more than just a transportation hub; it's a symbol of Williston's resilience and determination. Despite facing challenges like fluctuating oil prices and harsh weather conditions, the city continues to grow and thrive. The opening of XWA represents a new chapter in Williston's story, one that is defined by progress and opportunity.
Furthermore, XWA is not just a means of getting from point A to point B; it's an experience in itself. The airport features amenities such as restaurants, shops, and business lounges, providing travelers with comfort and convenience during their journey. Whether you're grabbing a bite to eat before your flight or picking up a souvenir for loved ones back home, XWA offers a welcoming environment for all who pass through its doors.
In addition to its economic and practical benefits, XWA also serves as a point of pride for the community. The airport is a testament to what can be achieved when people come together with a shared vision and determination. It represents the spirit of innovation and progress that defines Williston and sets it apart as a city on the rise.
Looking ahead, XWA is poised to play an even greater role in the region's growth and development. As Williston continues to attract investment and expand its economy, the demand for air travel will only increase. XWA stands ready to meet this demand, connecting the city to the world and helping to write the next chapter in Williston's remarkable story.
In conclusion, the Williston Basin International Airport is more than just a transportation hub; it's a symbol of progress and opportunity for the city of Williston and the surrounding region. With its modern facilities, expanded capacity, and strategic location, XWA is poised to support the area's growth for years to come. As Williston continues to evolve, XWA will remain a vital link, connecting the city to the world and driving economic prosperity for all who call this vibrant community home.
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rabbitcruiser · 8 months ago
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Dawson Creek, BC (No. 1)
Dawson Creek is a city in northeastern British Columbia, Canada. The municipality of 24.37 square kilometres (9.41 sq mi) had a population of 12,978 in 2016. Dawson Creek derives its name from the creek of the same name that runs through the community. The creek was named after George Mercer Dawson by a member of his land survey team when they passed through the area in August 1879. Once a small farming community, Dawson Creek became a regional centre after the western terminus of the Northern Alberta Railways was extended there in 1932. The community grew rapidly in 1942 as the US Army used the rail terminus as a transshipment point during construction of the Alaska Highway. In the 1950s, the city was connected to the interior of British Columbia via a highway and a railway through the Rocky Mountains. Since the 1960s, growth has slowed, but the area population has increased.
Dawson Creek is located in the dry and windy prairie land of the Peace River Country. As the seat of the Peace River Regional District and a service centre for the rural areas south of the Peace River, the city has been called the "Capital of the Peace". It is also known as the "Mile 0 City", referring to its location at the southern end of the Alaska Highway. It also has a heritage interpretation village, an art gallery, and a museum. Annual events include a fall fair and rodeo.
Source: Wikipedia
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