#and there are mentions of indigenous canadian history and place names

[libraryleopard]

Adult standalone urban fantasy novel

In an alternate version of present-day Vancouver inhabited by the reincarnated Knights of the Round Table and other figures from myth and folklore, a college student from an Arthurian family and a valkyrie both become entangled in a murder investigation

Gay autistic main character with anxiety; bi ace main character; M/M + F/F romances; Chinese Canadian trans girl side character

[neechees]

Do you know if there are more places to research the Rossdale powerplant in Edmonton? The city website just says "oh we reburied the remains so it's all good now lmao" which I don't believe. I tried looking at the Papaschase Band website too but their history page didn't get very much into it

Oh ill tell you about it right now in addition to getting you more sources lmfao

According to this, some of the more recent graves that they found at Rossdale plant were reburied in 2016 at the Fort Edmonton Traditional Burial Site. However, i think there was more graves than this, and wouldn't be surprised if there were more under the current plant location even now rather than just around it. According to my Kohkum, there was also more graves around the bridge that sits directly across the plant and leads to the other end of the River Valley.

The whole River Valley area was traditionally Blackfoot land first, but eventually other tribes would come in to trade and host various ceremonies together, particularly near where the river is (which is also where Rossdale plant is), and that's also where a lot of our dead are buried. So for hundreds of years, what is now called "Edmonton" was essentially a Native city & gathering place, and the reason this area was turned INTO a (colonized) city of Edmonton is because the settlers saw that a lot of Natives were here, and they thought it would be convenient to settle the area so they could convert us to Christianity, and/or replace the Indigenous population. This is true for a lot of other cities across Canada, such as Wetaskiwin, Heart Lake (which is where Native couples often got married). Edmonton also has a terrible history of VERY bad racism & segregation, land theft, and displacement.

I mention all this because the trouble is, this place has been occupied by Natives for thousands of years, and so there's graveyards & sacred spaces everywhere, especially near the river valley, and they would have started construction during the time they didn't give a shit if they were disturbing our dead OR living. I could believe they potentially moved the bones and reburied them when they were first building the plant, but I don't know WHERE or when they did it.

The land where Rossdale Plant is located now was traditionally called Pêhonân which means "waiting place" in Cree (this coincidentally is also the name for what is now Fort Carlton, Saskatchewan). All that I've just talked about in this video here under the section "Rossdale Flats" starting at 7:23. Below is an old photo of the Rossdale Flatts where Natives were still camping out

The Cree band Nêhiyawak has a band called "Pehonan" that did the score for the documentary Ôtênaw, and their cover for this album features the memorial statue that's there, but this is from a bottom view with the camera looking up. When upright, the memorial looks like a four poled tipi sitting atop a circle, which I've added as the right photo. I think the plant also thinks this memorial makes up for the colonization and such but obviously, it doesn't.

Now some lovely sources for you:

If you have a vimeo account, there's an oral history documentary called Ôtênaw about the city of Edmonton and the River Valley that iirc also talks about the Rossdale Plant (but again, the surrounding River Valley is also relevant to the plant) that you can watch here. I had the pleasure of meeting the person who narrates the video (Dwayne Donald) & learning from him directly.

Here's a video with a teensy bit of info

Here's a free PDF that talks about Edmonton & Rossdale plant

Here is a paper that talks about the history of the Rossdale Plant as well as mentioning the graveyards during the construction of the plant.

The last paper I linked, in my opinion, still reads from a more settler Canadian point of view and doesn't really take the Indigenous history of Edmonton there seriously, and so I'd say read it critically. One thing is that I find it interesting that in this paper while it does the bare minimum of mentioning its important history with First Nations, later it reverts to saying the area was a "wilderness" & "naturally shaped" & disregards the history once more to justify the construction of the plant (despite archeology in the River Valley finds that FN have been there for 12,000+ years). This paper also includes maps of the history of the plant's construction throughout the years, and includes a blank area that reads "no permanent human settlement, only First Nations camps" meaning, this paper doesn't take Indigenous people living at this site (or potential graveyards near there) as valid enough to call it our land, and once again, justifies the construction of the plant because no White people were there. Perhaps not out of malice, but it still very White centered and ignorant

So while several of these sources do say "we reburied the remains" (which I don't necessarily think they're lying, there were remains that were buried), I also don't think they're completely off the hook because it looks like the plant can barely stand to mention it's still on Native land at the end of the day.

[queering-ecology]

Chapter 11. ‘fucking close to water’: queering the production of the nation by Bruce Erickson (part 2, final)

Land

First ‘canoe’ that European colonists saw were likely Mi’kmaq gwitnn, birchbark boats designed for both ocean and river travel (318)

The colonist’s name is mentioned but the natives in these stories don’t ever get their names so…the colonist realized that to go further inland he would need the gwitn,  he needed “the boat derived of the landscape realities of the new world” (Raffan 1999a, 24) (318)

the ‘canoe’ as a symbol unique to Canada (Jennings 1991, 1) (319), reworks essentialized aspects of indigenous cultures into a symbol of national health and success” (319) and as a “gift” from natives to settlers. The canoe as unique entity, because of the exploration done by canoe, the canoe is the guard that maintains the boundary of Canadian identity.

A vague connection could be made to the American symbol of the cowboy to the American west except the canoe is more ‘natural’ for being of the land and from the native people and further substantiated in its uniqueness by its use in colonialism.

Canada as a nation has ‘perfected’ the canoe; the only way the canoe can be made perfect is through its ability to be incorporated into European expansion (320) the connection of the land to the canoe as a discourse of inevitability illustrates the privileging of the European subject as the natural inheritors (indeed, the rightful inheritor) of First Nations land…and implicitly heterosexual and patriarchal subject (320-321)

Possibility

“We cannot possibly anticipate what might happen, if we were really to consider the ten million bodies at the bottom of the Atlantic Ocean "(Shannon Winnubst, 190) (324)

“Rethinking nature that is not bent toward the utility of power” (324) Opening ourselves to the possibilities of history means addressing the ways in which the ideologies and concrete practices that have formed our current understanding of nature represent more about the desired human outcome than they do about anything nonhuman (324)

Similar to really considering 10 million dead bodies in the Atlantic Ocean, this would mean really considering (as a broad list) the malicious wars over land and fur, the forced conversions, the repeated exposure to flu epidemics, the establishment of reservations and classification of First Nations as wards of the state, and the widespread physical and sexual abuse in residential schools designed to assimilate and civilize a supposed “savage” population” (324).

The Kiss of the Fur Queen is a novel by Tomson Highway, Cree playwright and novelist. Two Cree brothers are taken from their parents to a residential school several hundred miles away at the age of six, baptized into the Catholic church and have their names changed, they forbidden to speak their language and are abused by the priests of the school. They are alienated from their parents by the education and sexual predation of the school priests, but also are disconnected from the land, language and culture of their people…(the canoe plays a central role in the story, where difficult conversations about their alienation take place). As they grow up one of the brothers finds “continual inspiration” from the traditional Cree culture and discovered a “need to know the cultures that were suppressed by the residential school”. “As the crowd dances to the migisoo, the eagle, Gabriel realizes its power: ‘Gabriel saw people talking to the sky, the sky replying.” (Highway 1998) (324-326) (this is a poor summary, i apologize.)

“The movement between tradition and innovation is always fluid and uncharted” (327)

“Thus, while as a quirky national joke, the idea of making love in a canoe surely belongs to the post-sexual revolution of the later twentieth century, we need to remember that as a national symbol, the connection it strives to make between the canoe, nature,  and nation signals a sexual politic that was born of the age of imperialism. “

“As Foucault reminds us, the legacy of the Victorian repression of sexuality is held within the resistance of the sexual revolution that fails to move outside the biopower networks of modern sexuality.” (327)

[calliopesburn]

So you mentioned queer film and docs in some of your tags, may I ask if you have any specific recommendations?

thank u for asking i have SO MANY!!!!!!!!!!

i haven't actually checked but im 99% sure all of these films were definitely directed and likely also written by queer people; for context this top list is all new so look for film festivals that might be screening or streaming these virtually / below i added some older films that are more easy to find

New from the past year or two:

the one i mentioned in the post is one i definitely recommend - it's called Nelly & Nadine (doc) - two women fall in love in a concentration camp, survive, and live happily together - the documentary gets made when a queer grandkid finds old stuff and is like hrmmmm

Rule 34 - one of my favorite films ever honestly - a black sex worker (in brazil) gets into criminal law school (paid for by her sex work) and witnesses her own life and identity being constantly debated in the classroom while continuing her sex work and beginning to explore BDSM at night - she becomes increasingly erratic throughout the film in a way that culminates beautifully (talk about a chaos queer) an incredibly commentary on women's agency

Before I Change My Mind - i think it takes place in the 60s - a non-binary pre-teen kid moves from america to a small canadian town and struggles to make friends for .02 seconds before they set their sights on their crush and become a member of their toxic friend group - puts a whole new spin on 'coming of age'

Compulsus - a woman starts hunting down men who sexually assault women (from the descrip it says it never shows the actual assault that leads her to start striking back, only her committing violence)

Tahara - first of all the stop motion kiss scene still has me reeling. two jewish bffs attend a funeral and things get real awkward when they kiss 'for fun'

Framing Agnes (doc) - gender case studies from a 50's UCLA clinic are re-enacted by icons like Angelica Ross - incredible history

Wildhood - a two-spirit teen falls for another indigenous boy while he journeys with his brother to find their mom

Anything's Possible - Billy Porter's directorial debut - a muslim boy falls for a trans girl and takes his shot even though he knows people will freak out (and they do) but it's really affirming and supportive and lovely and funny <3

Esther Newton Made Me Gay (doc) - ok wanna talk about queer history?? Esther Newton was the first person to ever write about drag culture from an anthropological perspective PERIOD. i think if i remember correctly she was fired from parsons, and was on very thin ice for a long time with her career - but even still she wrote and paved the way for queer academia - writing about fire island, cherry grove, the drag scene, and more!!!!! she also identifies as a butch lesbian/between genders and this film is so incredible for the lesbians - you really need to hear her talk about gender, about butchness and femmeness - ALSO you get to see her childhood growing up in the early 1900's as a queer person and it's incredible, you'll cry but like in a GOOD cathartic way

Sleep With Me (series) - a soapy sapphic thai romance between two disabled women - one in a wheelchair and another with a rare sleep disorder. this will literally give you every cute soapy sapphic moment you could ask for!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

Girl Picture - lesbians watch this one!!!!!!!! this is a ROMANCE!!!!!! there were scenes where i was like omg!!!!!!! when you never realize how desperately ur craving a certain style - just watch the trailer please ; also asexuals u should watch this one too :) (just to be clear though the asexual character is straight, not the sapphic romance)

Mama Bears (doc) - this doc will also make u cry but in a really fucking good way. this is a doc on christian parents who used to be conservative and homophobic before changing perspectives after their kids come out. most notable is Kai (though she also chooses the name Esther for herself <3, based on her favorite person in the Bible), a trans girl who talks about coming out to her mom as a girl as young as 3 years old, and in spite of the abuse she was put through, she kept saying it and her mom eventually realized she could either lose her "son" forever, or accept and love her daughter. im tearing up writing this - her mom gave up her entire family to literally save her daughters life - and she did.

Nana's Boys - two black men are about to get engaged when the city goes on lockdown and their relationship is put to the test - truths come out and the gorgeous twists and turns of their relationship really shows the gentleness and supportiveness of queer relationships (it's called nana's boys because they were both raised by their grandmas <3)

Unidentified Objects - a lovely film about two neighbors who take an unexpected road trip - their lives of course changing forever as a result. one of the characters is a gay little person who's mourning the death of a close friend and the other is a sex worker who is looking for the aliens who took her when she was a kid (yes that's literally the plot) it's wonderfully well written and has one of those endings that'll send you reeling

New - haven't seen but on my list:

The First Fallen - a narrative story that follows a group a friends as the first wave of the AIDS epidemic approaches in Peru <3

All the Beauty and the Bloodshed (doc) - you'll likely hear about this as its Laura Poitras' new film, it's about Nan Goldin

Stupid for You - a sapphic girl musical????????????????????

Way Down - an episodic on a bunch of friends trying to be musicians - the lead is non-binary in a romance with various ladies and i think everyone else in the band is queer too

The Blue Caftan - a tailor in morocco lives happily closeted with his wife until they hire a sexy assistant

The Inspection - a gay man enters the military and finds unexpected support and family

El Houb - can only remember that it's a muslim guy who comes out to his dad but is a dark comedy (he literally runs into the closet at a point in the film)

My Emptiness and I - a newly out transfemme woman navigates life and dating and surgery

Moneyboys - two gay men in i think taiwan?

so in general i highly recommend paying attention to queer film festivals - newfest, frameline, and outfest are the major US ones (they only stream in the US but im pretty sure you can use a vpn) inside out is a canadian one; most of them stream now!!!! like 80% of their films are available to stream for a short duration so sign up for their email lists and mark their festivals on your calendars because if you pay attention to these you'll start to see actual queer stories written and directed by queer people!!!!!!!!

also consider watching shorts programs - some of the most impactful films ive been seeing have been shorts (there's one called Dress Up that has been glued into the back of my skull for like 2 months) and shorts are basically seeing into the future of queer film and a lot of them are amazing so highly recommend!!!!!!!

-

For things currently streaming or easy to find and download:

Fantasy of the Girls (2017/2018 depending where you look) thrilled to list this one as it's actually the film that made me realize im a lesbian :) full film is also on YT

The Incredibly True Adventure of Two Girls in Love dir Maria Maggenti (1995)

Saving Face (2000) and The Half of It - dir Alice Wu

The Watermelon Woman (1996)

Hedwig and the Angry Inch (late 90s i think)

Fire (1996)

Desert Hearts (1985)

The Velvet Vampire - feels like jennifer's body but in 1971 with a vampire who wants to have sex/kill both ppl in a married couple (dir. by a woman; haven't seen this yet though)

Chutney Popcorn (1999)

Paris is Burning (1990)

Brother to Brother (2004) (anthony mackie)

Pariah

Portrait of a Lady on Fire

The Miseducation of Cameron Post (a sad one but chloe moretz dated the girl from the film and the director is queer - incredible film)

Lingua Franca

Fire Island

Naz & Maalik

The Obituary of Tunde Johnson

Firstness

Firebird

See You Then

Ammonite

No Hard Feelings

Shiva Baby

Flee

Passing

--

so in general i highly recommend paying attention to queer film festivals - newfest, frameline, and outfest are the major US ones (they only stream in the US but im pretty sure you can use a vpn) inside out is a canadian one; most of them stream now!!!! like 80% of their films are available to stream for a short duration so sign up for their email lists and mark their festivals on your calendars because if you pay attention to these you'll start to see actual queer stories written and directed by queer people!!!!!!!!

also consider watching shorts programs - some of the most impactful films ive been seeing have been shorts (there's one that has been glued into the back of my skull for like 2 months) and shorts are basically seeing into the future of queer film and a lot of them are amazing so highly recommend!!!!!!!

[reanimatedcourier]

How to Write Indigenous Characters Without Looking like a Jackass:

Update as of December 26th, 2020: I have added a couple new sections about naming and legal terms, as well as a bit of reading on the Cherokee Princess phenomenon.

Boozhoo (hello) Fallout fandom! I'm a card-carrying Anishinaabe delivering this rough guide about writing Indigenous characters because wow, do I see a lot of shit.

Let's get something out of the way first: Fallout's portrayal of Indigenous people is racist. From a vague definition of "tribal" to the claims of them being "savage" and "uncivilized" mirror real-world stereotypes used to dehumanize us. Fallout New Vegas' narrated intro has Ron Perlman saying Mr. House "rehabilitated" tribals to create New Vegas' Three Families. You know. Rehabilitate. As if we are animals. Top it off with an erasure of Indigenous people in the American Southwest and no real tribe names, and you've got some pretty shitty representation. The absence of Native American as a race option in the GECK isn't too great, given that two Native characters are marked "Caucasian" despite being brown. Butch Deloria is a pretty well-known example of this effect. (Addendum: Indigenous people can have any mix of dominant and recessive traits, as well as present different phenotypes. What bothers me is it doesn't accommodate us or mixed people, which is another post entirely.)

As a precautionary warning: this post and the sources linked will discuss racism and genocide. There will also be discussion of multiple kinds of abuse.

Now, your best approach will be to pick a nation or tribe and research them. However, what follows will be general references.

Terms that may come up in your research include Aboriginal/Native Canadian, American Indian/Native American, Inuit, Métis, and Mestizo. The latter two refer to cultural groups created after the discovery of the so-called New World. (Addendum made September 5th, 2020: Mestizo has negative connotations and originally meant "half breed" so stick with referring to your mixed Latine and Indigenous characters as mixed Indigenous or simply by the name of their people [Maya, Nahua].)

As a note, not every mixed person is Métis or Mestizo. If you are, say, Serbian and Anishinaabe, you would be mixed, but not Métis (the big M is important here, as it refers to a specific culture). Even the most liberal definition caps off at French and British ancestry alongside Indigenous (some say Scottish and English). Mestizo works the same, since it refers to descendants of Spanish conquistadors/settlers and Indigenous people.

Trouble figuring out whose land is where? No problem, check out this map.

Drawing

Don't draw us with red skin. It's offensive and stereotypical.

Tutorial for Native Skintones

Tutorial for Mixed Native Skintones

Why Many Natives Have Long Hair (this would technically fit better under another category, but give your Native men long hair!)

If You're Including Traditional Wear, Research! It's Out There

Languages

Remember, there are a variety of languages spoken by Indigenous people today. No two tribes will speak the same language, though there are some that are close and may have loan words from each other (Cree and Anishinaabemowin come to mind). Make sure your Diné (you may know them as Navajo) character doesn't start dropping Cree words.

Here's a Site With a Map and Voice Clips

Here's an Extensive List of Amerindian Languages

Keep in mind there are some sounds that have no direct English equivalents. But while we're at it, remember a lot of us speak English, French, Spanish, or Portuguese. The languages of the countries that colonized us.

Words in Amerindian languages tend to be longer than English ones and are in the format of prefix + verb + suffix to get concepts across. Gaawiin miskwaasinoon is a complete sentence in Anishinaabemowin, for example (it is not red).

Names

Surprisingly, we don't have names like Passing Dawn or Two-Bears-High-Fiving in real life. A lot of us have, for lack of better phrasing, white people names. We may have family traditions of passing a name down from generation to generation (I am the fourth person in my maternal line to have my middle name), but not everyone is going to do that. If you do opt for a name from a specific tribe, make sure you haven't chosen a last name from another tribe.

Baby name sites aren't reliable, because most of the names on there will be made up by people who aren't Indigenous. That site does list some notable exceptions and debunks misconceptions.

Here's a list of last names from the American census.

Indian Names

You may also hear "spirit names" because that's what they are for. You know the sort of mystical nature-related name getting slapped on an Indigenous character? Let's dive into that for a moment.

The concept of a spirit name seems to have gotten mistranslated at some point in time. It is the name Creator calls you throughout all your time both here and in the spirit world. These names are given (note the word usage) to you in a ceremony performed by an elder. This is not done lightly.

A lot of imitations of this end up sounding strange because they don't follow traditional guidelines. (I realize this has spread out of the original circle, but Fallout fans may recall other characters in Honest Hearts and mods that do this. They have really weird and racist results.)

If you're not Indigenous: don't try this. You will be wrong.

Legal Terms

Now, sometimes the legal term (or terms) for a tribe may not be what they refer to themselves as. A really great example of this would be the Oceti Sakowin and "Sioux". How did that happen, you might be wondering. Smoky Mountain News has an article about this word and others, including the history of these terms.

For the most accurate information, you are best off having your character refer to themselves by the name their nation uses outside of legislation. A band name would be pretty good for this (Oglala Lakota, for example). I personally refer to myself by my band.

Cowboys

And something the Fallout New Vegas fans might be interested in, cowboys! Here's a link to a post with several books about Black and Indigenous cowboys in the Wild West.

Representation: Stereotypes and Critical Thought

Now, you'll need to think critically about why you want to write your Indigenous character a certain way. Here is a comprehensive post about stereotypes versus nuance.

Familiarize yourself with tropes. The Magical Indian is a pretty prominent one, with lots of shaman-type characters in movies and television shows. This post touches on its sister tropes (The Magical Asian and The Magical Negro), but is primarily about the latter.

Say you want to write an Indigenous woman. Awesome! Characters I love to see. Just make sure you're aware of the stereotypes surrounding her and other Women of Color.

Word to the wise: do not make your Indigenous character an alcoholic. "What, so they can't even drink?" You might be asking. That is not what I'm saying. There is a pervasive stereotype about Drunk Indians, painting a reaction to trauma as an inherent genetic failing, as stated in this piece about Indigenous social worker Jessica Elm's research. The same goes for drugs. Ellen Deloria is an example of this stereotype.

Familiarize yourself with and avoid the Noble Savage trope. This was used to dehumanize us and paint us as "childlike" for the sake of a plot device. It unfortunately persists today.

Casinos are one of the few ways for tribes to make money so they can build homes and maintain roads. However, some are planning on diversifying into other business ventures.

There's a stereotype where we all live off government handouts. Buddy, some of these long-term boil water advisories have been in place for over twenty years. The funding allocated to us as a percentage is 0.39%: less than half a percent to fight the coronavirus. They don't give us money.

"But what about people claiming to be descended from a Cherokee princess?" Cherokee don't and never had anything resembling princesses. White southerners made that up prior to the Civil War. As the article mentions, they fancied themselves "defending their lands as the Indians did".

Also, don't make your Indigenous character a cannibal. Cannibalism is a serious taboo in a lot of our cultures, particularly northern ones.

Our lands are not cursed. We don't have a litany of curses to cast on white people in found footage films. Seriously. We have better things to be doing. Why on earth would our ancestors be haunting you when they could be with their families? Very egotistical assumption.

Indigenous Ties and Blood Quantum

Blood quantum is a colonial system that was initially designed to "breed out the Indian" in people. To dilute our bloodlines until we assimilated properly into white society. NPR has an article on it here.

However, this isn't how a vast majority of us define our identities. What makes us Indigenous is our connections (or reconnection) to our families, tribes, bands, clans, and communities.

Blood quantum has also historically been used to exclude Black Natives from tribal enrollment, given that it was first based on appearance. So, if you looked Black and not the image of "Indian" the white census taker had in his brain, you were excluded and so were your descendants.

Here are two tumblrs that talk about Black Indigenous issues and their perspectives. They also talk about Aboriginal and Torres Strait Islander people of Australia.

However, if you aren't Indigenous, don't bring up blood quantum. Don't. This is an issue you should not be speaking about.

Cherokee Princess Myth

"Princess" was not a real position in any tribe. The European idea of monarchy did not suddenly manifest somewhere else. The closest probable approximation may have been the daughter of a chief or other politically prominent person. But princess? No.

Here is an article talking about possible origins of this myth. Several things are of note here: women from other tribes may have bee shoved under this label and the idea of a "Cherokee Princess" had been brought up to explain the sudden appearance of a brown-skinned (read: half Black) family member.

For a somewhat more in depth discussion of why, specifically, this myth gets touted around so often, Timeline has this piece.

Religion

Our religions are closed. We are not going to tell you how we worship. Mostly because every little bit we choose to share gets appropriated. Smudging is the most recent example. If you aren't Indigenous, that's smoke cleansing. Smudging is done in a specific way with ceremonies and prayers.

Now, a lot of us were forcibly converted. Every residential school was run by Christians. So plenty of us are Catholic, Baptist, Anglican, Lutheran, etc. Catholicism in Latin America also has influence from the Indigenous religions in that region.

Having your Indigenous character pray or carry rosaries wouldn't be a bad thing, if that religion was important to them. Even if they are atheist, if they lived outside of a reserve or other Indigenous communities, they might have Christian influences due to its domination of the Western world.

Settler Colonialism and the White Savior Trope

Now we've come to our most painful section yet. Fallout unintentionally has an excellent agent of settler-colonialism, in particular the Western Christian European variety, in Caesar's Legion and Joshua Graham.

(Addendum: Honest Hearts is extremely offensive in its portrayal of Indigenous people, and egregiously shows a white man needing to "civilize" tribals and having to teach them basic skills. These skills include cooking, finding safe water, and defending themselves from other tribes.)

Before we dive in, here is a post explaining the concept of cultural Christianity, if you are unfamiliar with it.

We also need to familiarize ourselves with The White Man's Burden. While the poem was written regarding the American-Philippine war, it still captures the attitudes toward Indigenous folks all over the world at the time.

As this article in Teen Vogue points out, white people like to believe they need to save People of Color. You don't need to. People of Color can save themselves.

Now, cultural Christianity isn't alone on this side of the pond. Writer Teju Cole authored a piece on the White Savior Industrial Complex to describe mission trips undertaken by white missionaries to Africa to feed their egos.

Colonialism has always been about the acquisition of wealth. To share a quote from this paper about the ongoing genocide of Indigenous peoples: "Negatively, [settler colonialism] strives for the dissolution of native societies. Positively, it erects a new colonial society on the expropriated land base—as I put it, settler colonizers come to stay: invasion is a structure not an event. In its positive aspect, elimination is an organizing principal of settler-colonial society rather than a one-off (and superseded) occurrence. The positive outcomes of the logic of elimination can include officially encouraged miscegenation, the breaking-down of native title into alienable individual freeholds, native citizenship, child abduction, religious conversion, resocialization in total institutions such as missions or boarding schools, and a whole range of cognate biocultural assimilations. All these strategies, including frontier homicide, are characteristic of settler colonialism. Some of them are more controversial in genocide studies than others." (Positive, here, is referring to "benefits" for the colonizers. Indigenous people don't consider colonization beneficial.)

An example of a non-benefit, the Church Rock disaster had Diné children playing in radioactive water so the company involved could avoid bad publicity.

Moving on, don't sterilize your Indigenous people. Sterilization, particularly when it is done without consent, has long been used as a tool by the white system to prevent "undesirables" (read, People of Color and disabled people) from having children. Somehow, as of 2018, it wasn't officially considered a crime.

The goal of colonization was to eliminate us entirely. Millions died because of exposure to European diseases. Settlers used to and still do separate our children from us for reasons so small as having a dirty dish in the sink. You read that right, a single dirty dish in your kitchen sink was enough to get your children taken and adopted out to white families. This information was told to me by an Indigenous social work student whose name I will keep anonymous.

It wasn't until recently they made amendments to the Indian Act that wouldn't automatically render Indigenous women non-status if they married someone not Indigenous. It also took much too long for Indigenous families to take priority in child placement over white ones. Canada used to adopt Indigenous out to white American families. The source for that statement is further down, but adoption has been used as a tool to destroy cultures.

I am also begging you to cast aside whatever colonialist systems have told you about us. We are alive. People with a past, not people of the past, which was wonderfully said here by Frank Waln.

Topics to Avoid if You Aren't Indigenous

Child Separation. Just don't. We deserve to remain with our families and our communities. Let us stay together and be happy that way.

Assimilation schools. Do not bring up a tool for cultural genocide that has left lasting trauma in our communities.

W/ndigos. I don't care that they're in Fallout 76. They shouldn't be. Besides, you never get them right anyway.

Sk/nwalkers. Absolutely do not. Diné stories are not your playthings either.

I've already talked about drugs and alcohol. Do your research with compassion and empathy in mind. Indigenous people have a lot of pain and generational trauma. You will need to be extremely careful having your Indigenous characters use drugs and alcohol. If your character can be reduced to their (possible) substance abuse issues, you need to step back and rework it. As mentioned in Jessica Elm's research, remember that it isn't inherent to us.

For our final note: remember that we're complex, autonomous human beings. Don't use our deaths to further the stories of your white characters. Don't reduce us to some childlike thing that needs to be raised and civilized by white characters. We interact with society a little differently than you do, but we interact nonetheless.

Meegwetch (thank you) for reading! Remember to do your research and portray us well, but also back off when you are told by an Indigenous person.

This may be updated in the future, it depends on what information I come across or, if other Indigenous people are so inclined, what is added to this post.

[fatehbaz]

the racism and imperial ambitions of Kew Gardens, plant-collecting expeditions, major scientific institutions of Europe, especially between 1700 and 1900, etc., were merely “covert”? just a little bit “problematic”?

The Natural History Museum is planing to review its collections following fears from museum bosses that they could cause offence. A review has been commissioned in the wake of the Black Lives Matter movement, which will include an audit of the statues, rooms and individual items which staff members think show "legacies of colonies, slavery and empire".

In documents [...], the executive board told staff the museum would undertake a review into room names, statues and collections [...]. According to the paper, one curator said "science, racism and colonial power were inherently entwined", and that any collections deemed "problematic" could be renamed or even removed. [...]

It is thought the review will look at the Charles Darwin collection, whose trip to the Galapagos Islands on HMS Beagle was cited by a curator as one of Britain's many "colonialist scientific expeditions". The documents said “museums were put in place to legitimise a racist ideology”, and that “covert racism, exists in the gaps between the displays”. However, speaking to The Standard, a spokesperson for The Natural History Museum said: "Recently we started a review to better understand the history of our institution as a historical and contemporary global collection of natural history specimens.”

Headline, photo, tw!tt*r screencap, and text from: Duffield. “Natural History Museum is due to review ...” Evening Standard. 7 September 2020.

----

Stuff:

- Charles Darwin considered Indigenous people of Tierra del Fuego as less intelligent/sentient than domesticated dogs; Carl Linnaeus explicitly and directly plotting colonization and calling Southeast Asian, Latin American Indigenous, and Chinese people “barbaric”, “poor”, etc.

-  The tale of breadfruit domestication, the mutiny on the Bounty, and plantation owners plotting with Kew Gardens to take plants from Indigenous Polynesians and domesticate crops to undermine slave gardens in the Caribbean.

–  “Ghostly non-places; settler-colonial hallucinations and fantasy visions; monstrous plants and animals; hiding, destroying, re-making ecological worlds; permanent cataclysm; the horror of settlement”: Anna Boswell on settler-colonial agriculture/ecology and the role of scientific institutions in legitimating imperial constructions of “new worlds.”

– Conflating women with “bloodthirsty” and “flesh-eating” plants, and the dehumanization of Indigenous cultures through the scientific illustrations of imperial scientific agents and artistic depictions of plants from colonized ecosystems (Euro-American art/botany, 1700s to early 1900s).

- When naturalists from Kew Gardens tried to import marsupials from Australia in order to naturalize the kangaroo to English ecosystems in an attempt build imperial/nationalist identity and pride by demonstrating how the English countryside is friendly, perfect, superior, welcoming to life, unlike the dangerous tropical landscapes at Empire’s frontier (1790s to 1850s).

- Scientists and land managers of Canadian federal government attempting to expand control over the Arctic/sub-Arctic by purposely killing caribou herds to weaken Indigenous autonomy before importing European reindeer to better control Indigenous foodsheds. (1890s to 1930s.)

-  How the gardens, horticulture, and food markets of poor/dispossessed/enslaved in the Caribbean allowed autonomous food networks to exist and undermine plantation owners. (Late 1700s, early 1800s.)

- Grasses, seed merchants, and “the Empire’s dairy farm” in Aotearoa. (European agriculture in late 19th and early 20th centuries.) And: The role of grasslands, deforestation, and English grasses in ecological imperialism in Aotearoa, early 20th century.

- The Scottish-born chief coroner of Adelaide who robbed graves, dissected bodies, and took the skulls of at least 180 Aboriginal people for his home collection. (1900-ish to 1920-ish.)

- Pineapple, breadfruit, and plantations “doing the work of Empire” in Hawaii.

- Mapuche people, Valdivian temperate rainforest, and Chilean/European state plots to colonize Valdivia by dismantling the rainforest to undermine Mapuche autonomy and to create “Swiss or German pastoral farm landscape”.

-  Carl Linnaeus and botanists’ racism against India and Latin America, and the use of botanic gardens to acquire knowledge as an exercise of “soft empire.”

- How Atomic Energy Commission and academic ecologists from the US knowingly and purposely used Polynesian/Micronesian people as human test subjects and profited off of nuclear weapons testing in the South Pacific. (Contains many direct quotes from the scientists. Extremely graphic.)

- Dandelions, other non-native plants, and settler gardens changing soil of the Canadian Arctic. (Late 1800s and early 1900s.)

- European botanic gardens in 18th-/19th-century Mexico and Central America as a tool of imperialism and knowledge systematization. (“Botany began as atechnoscope – a way to visualize at-a-distance – but, at the end of the eighteenth century, it was already a  teletechnique –  a way to act at-a-distance.”)

- Memes for when you see a mention of “Joseph Banks” or “Kew Gardens” in any magazine, academic article, museum exhibit, documentary, or something.

- “Fugitive seeds”: Seed-keeping and plant knowledge among Black communities in the US as an alternative current of thought compared to the scientific racism of 19th century scientific institutions.

- How European botanists experimented under the reign of Leopold in the Belgian Congo before transplanting African oil palm to Southeast Asia to establish the first major oil palm plantations; today, 100 years later, oil palm monoculture ravages Southeast Asia and the same plantation company still owns property across Africa.

-  Wild rice, “cottage colonialism” in Canada, imaginative control, the power of names and naming plants. (1780 to present.) And: Kew Gardens plotting to take Native strains of wild rice and domesticate them for cheap and profitable consumption in other imperial British colonies.

- Calcutta  Botanic Gardens abduction and use of Chinese slaves; Kew Gardens (successfully) plotting to steal cinchona from people of Bolivia to service their staff in India; botanic gardens’ role in large-scale dispossession to create plantations in Assam and Ooty (1790s - 1870s).

[religioused]

Queen Esther and the Orange Shirt

Esther 7:1-6, 9-10; 9:20-22 (Contemporary English Version)

The king and Haman were dining with Esther 2 and drinking wine during the second dinner, when the king again said, “Esther, what can I do for you? Just ask, and I will give you as much as half of my kingdom!”

3 Esther answered, “Your Majesty, if you really care for me and are willing to help, you can save me and my people. That’s what I really want, 4 because a reward has been promised to anyone who kills my people. Your Majesty, if we were merely going to be sold as slaves, I would not have bothered you.”

5 “Who would dare to do such a thing?” the king asked.

6 Esther replied, “That evil Haman is the one out to get us!”

Haman was terrified, as he looked at the king and the queen.

9 Then Harbona, one of the king’s personal servants, said, “Your Majesty, Haman built a tower seventy-five feet high beside his house, so he could hang Mordecai on it. And Mordecai is the very one who spoke up and saved your life.”

“Hang Haman from his own tower!” the king commanded. 10 Right away, Haman was hanged on the tower he had built to hang Mordecai, and the king calmed down.

20 Mordecai wrote down everything that had happened. Then he sent letters to the Jews everywhere in the provinces 21 and told them:

Each year you must celebrate on both the fourteenth and the fifteenth of Adar, 22 the days when we Jews defeated our enemies. Remember this month as a time when our sorrow was turned to joy, and celebration took the place of crying. Celebrate by having parties and by giving to the poor and by sharing gifts of food with each other.

The book of Esther does not mention God, prayer, or covenant,(1) and there is not even much theology in Esther.(2) The lack of religious behavior might have reduced the book’s popularity.(3) J.G. McConville, who wrote The Daily Study Bible commentary on Esther, notes that just because God is not mentioned that does not mean that Esther does not teach about God.(4)

There are times when the Bible is political. Esther is political, making the power people in the Persian Empire look bad. Subplots in Esther mock the Persian court and king.(5) The thinly disguised insults were probably enjoyed a lot by the ancient Israelites who listened to the story of Queen Esther.

McConville says Esther “is by any standards a brilliantly written story.”(6) Commentator William Neil gives us the sense that Esther might not be historical but contains enough history to feel realistic. There is enough drama and nationalism in Esther to appeal to the children of Israel.(7) Contributors to the New American Bible state one purpose of the book of Esther is the “glorification of Jewish people.”(8) One theologian considers the book of Esther to be a short novel, a novella, about Jewish people living away from their homeland.(9) While I am very uncomfortable with high levels of nationalism, members of oppressed minority groups need high levels of self-worth to thrive in the face of oppression.

The Bible is a book for the oppressed, for all the oppressed. As we remember Orange Shirt Day, I am going to say that again. The Bible is a book for all oppressed people. I am not going to tell Indigenous people what the story of Esther means to them. I will share some of what the narrative means to me.

The Israelites, who were carried off into slavery in other nations, faced oppression. The passage in the book of Esther is about an extreme act of oppression, the attempt to kill all Jewish people. We study this story on a day when we remember the oppression of Indigenous children who attended boarding schools. The Canadian Encyclopedia says an estimated 6 thousand children died at residential schools.(10)

The school day for Indigenous children started at 5:30 am when the children were expected to get up. Students were malnourished and vulnerable to tuberculosis and influenza. The teachers were generally poorly qualified, and students did not develop the skills needed to be successful when they returned to their communities or went into the larger workforce.(11) Students and parents protested the schools. A few students stole food, ran away, or set fires. Parents and political leaders protested the “harsh conditions.”(12) The students, parents, and political leaders who acted out and who protested strike me as the heroes of the Indigenous residential school era.

The impact of policies that oppressed Indigenous students in Canada continue to this day. While a few Canadians of European heritage see residential schools as an old problem and might not want to talk about it, many Indigenous people daily see the impact in the current lives of their extended families. One way that non-Indigenous people can recognize the inherent, God-given dignity of Indigenous people is to listen, with a sensitive heart, to the stories. I see that as a spiritual call, not as a political statement.

Jewish people around the world remember the story of Queen Esther, her courageous coming out, and the salvation of Jewish people. The holiday is Purim, a word that means lots.(13) The name of the Jewish holiday means lots because Haman cast lots to decide the day Jewish people should be executed. If we were naming the holiday now, we might call it lottery.

Wong Wai Ching Angela is a theologian. She was teaching at The Christian University of Hong Kong when she wrote a short commentary on the book of Esther. Angela makes the point that people in Hong Kong live between two competing sets of values, western values, and Chinese values. Those living in Hong Kong are like the Jewish people living in Persia – living with a tension between being under a colonial power and being Chinese.(14)

Indigenous people live with the tension of living as Canadians and having an Indigenous identity. While Canada is not a traditional imperial, colonial power, some of Canada’s institutions and approaches to First Nations people were developed when Canada was a colony. A few of the policies implemented regarding Indigenous people reflect Canada’s colonial history. Some members of minority groups living in Canada can relate to Esther and to the injustice Esther’s people faced.

The timing of Purim, a day when Jewish people celebrate the story of Esther, remains meaningful. Joseph Stalin was a “ruthless” dictator, who was responsible for the deaths of “millions of innocent people.”(15) He was believed to have had “bloody plans” to solve what he saw as a ‘Jewish problem’ in the Soviet Union.(16) In 1953, when the situation was seen to be a crisis, Joseph Stalin died. He died on Purim.(17)

Some of you might remember the 1990s Gulf War that took place after Iraq invaded Kuwait. For months, Sadam Hussein, Iraq's president, threatened to use SCUD missiles containing “deadly chemical gas" to ‘burn half of Israel.’(18) I suspect many Israelis braced themselves for the worst. As I recall, Israel did not suffer an enormous loss of life. According to a Wikipedia article, three Israelis were killed by missiles, and 71 additional Israelis died as an indirect result of the missiles.(19) The conflict ended on Purim.(20)

The book of Ester is a story of fear, threats, courage, coming out, salvation, and celebration. After a competition, Esther, a beautiful Jewish woman, becomes the new queen of Persia. Esther’s Jewish identity was not well known.

Jewish people fell out of favor with powerful people in Persia. Haman was an important official in Persia, so important that people were supposed to bow to him. Mordecai, a well-known Jewish man, refused to kneel or bow to Haman. Mordecai explained that he did not kneel because he was Jewish. When Haman learned this, he wanted all Jewish people killed.

Mordecai learned of the plan to kill all Jewish people. He put on sackcloth and mourned. Queen Esther, who was a closeted Jewish woman, is notified of the plot. She is asked to appeal to the king to save her people, and she does that. Her first step is to go to the king and to invite the king and Haman to dinner. At the dinner, she invites the king and Haman to a second dinner. This is where we pick up the story in today’s lectionary reading. And you might be able to understand the sense of the poetic justice or the karma of the narrative. Haman had gallows built to kill Mordecai. Haman is hanged on the gallows that he built for Mordecai.

The poetic justice surpasses a modern case of poetic justice. Robert Watson-Watt is generally considered to be the ‘father of radar.’ In the 1930s, he worked with a team that invented radar, a technology that helped detect the presence of aircraft “at any time of the day and in any weather conditions.”(21) When in Canada, Robert was reported to have been caught speeding by a constable with a radar gun. Robert told the constable, “Had I known what you were going to do with it, I would never have invented it.”(22) And if you ever received a speeding ticket, you might be secretly enjoying the irony that the one who helped invent radar got a speeding ticket because of radar.

While a quick read of Esther may give us the sense that there is nothing particularly spiritual or religious about the book, Esther speaks volumes about God’s love and priorities. The fact that the book of Esther builds up the morale and self-esteem of oppressed people says a lot about God. It tells us that God is present and active whenever oppressed people are being encouraged and built up. As people of faith, it is a holy and sacred duty to encourage and build up people, especially people who face systemic oppression. That is not a political statement; it is a spiritual statement, and it is a statement about our God.

The story of Esther takes place after a disaster. Because they were displaced and enslaved by war, there were children of Israel living in Persia. Orange Shirt Day is a reality only because of a disaster of a policy of having boarding schools to teach Indigenous children. We are in the disaster known as the COVID pandemic. During times of personal pain that may blot out the word God and prayer in the narratives of our hearts and lives, Purim speaks to us.

I am going to conclude with a quote from Rabbi Manis Friedman, as he reflects on the meaning of Purim. “God became real enough that we don’t have to refer to Him to know that He is there . . . That is a real achievement. God has become real to us. Our relationship has gotten stronger after the destruction, not weaker.”(23)

Notes

1 Wong Wai Ching Angela. “Esther.” Global Bible Commentary. (Nashville, Tennessee: Abingdon Press, 2004), 139, mentions lack of references to God, covenant, and prayer. McConville mentions a lack of references to God. J.G. McConville. The Daily Study Bible: Ezra, Nehemiah, and Esther. (Edinburgh: St. Andrew Press, 1985), 153.

2 McConville (1985), 153.

3 Angela (2004), 139.

4 McConville (1985), 153.

5 Angela (2004), 137.

6 McConville (1985), 154.

7 William Neil. William Neil's One Volume Bible Commentary. (London: Hodder and Stoughton, 1973), 219.

8 New American Bible. St. Joseph Edition. (New York: Catholic Book Pub., 1992), 500.

9 Angela (2004), 135.

10 “Residential Schools in Canada.” The Canadian Encyclopedia. n.d., 22 September 2021. <https://www.thecanadianencyclopedia.ca/en/article/residential-schools>.

11 “Residential Schools in Canada.” (2021) <https://www.thecanadianencyclopedia.ca/en/article/residential-schools>.

12 “Residential Schools in Canada.” (2021) <https://www.thecanadianencyclopedia.ca/en/article/residential-schools>.

13 “What is Purim?” Tori Avey. n.d., 09 September 2021. <https://toriavey.com/what-is-purim/>.

14 Angela (2004), 135.

15 “Purim: What is Purim?” Chabad.org. n.d., 05 September 2021.

<https://www.chabad.org/holidays/purim/article_cdo/aid/645309/jewish/What-Is-Purim.htm>.

16 “Purim: What is Purim?” (2021)

<https://www.chabad.org/holidays/purim/article_cdo/aid/645309/jewish/What-Is-Purim.htm>.

17 “Purim: What is Purim?” (2021)

<https://www.chabad.org/holidays/purim/article_cdo/aid/645309/jewish/What-Is-Purim.htm>.

18 Tzvi Jacobs. “Purim Saddam.” Chabad.org. n.d., 19 September 2021.

<https://www.chabad.org/library/article_cdo/aid/39446/jewish/Purim-Saddam.htm>.

19 “1991 Iraqi Rocket Attacks on Israel.” Wikipedia. July 2021, 19 September 2021. <https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/1991_Iraqi_rocket_attacks_on_Israel>.

20 “Purim: What is Purim?” (2021)

<https://www.chabad.org/holidays/purim/article_cdo/aid/645309/jewish/What-Is-Purim.htm>.

21 “Watson-Watt, Sir Robert.” English Heritage. n.d., 18 September 2021. <https://www.english-history.org.uk/visit/blue-plaques/robert-watson-watt/>.

22 “Watson-Watt, Sir Robert.” (2021) <https://www.english-history.org.uk/visit/blue-plaques/robert-watson-watt/>.

23 Manis Friedman. “The Meaning of Purim in 2 Minutes.” Rabbi Manis Friedman. 08 March 2020, 25 September 2021. <https://youtu.be/kiMCYYEznfE>.

[rein-ette]

Hi!

I was inspired by your asks, so I wanted to hear from you! What do you think of Canada as a country? I had a bit of a Canadian phase long ago and I tried to consume as much literature and history as I could, but reading about a place and living in it are very different experiences, so is there anything you'd like to share about Canada, about the culture or the people? Do you like living there? What are some of your favorites things? How do you survive the winters?

And also, as a character, what do you think of Matt?

(´｡• ᵕ •｡`) ♡

Aaaaaaaaah okay okay *ahem*

If you’re not here for a Ted talk the exit is to your left, have a great day!

I do love Canada very much! I was born and pretty much grew up here, and as I’ve grown older I’ve become more and more grateful for everything that my country has provided for me! I remember my history teacher in high school said once that by being born into the middle class and as a Canadian, you’ve already won the lottery of life. That was not to disparage other countries, but to remind us of how remarkably privileged we are and how much we take for granted.

One of the first things you hear when you ask people what does it mean to Canadian is the word “multicultural.” I find this word realllyyyyyy cringeyyyy and not really reflective of reality, but I suppose it’s a good starting point for more in depth discussion. People often say Canada is a “cultural melting pot”, but the indigenous poet Marilyn Dumont pointed out in her poems that in some ways it’s more of a mosaic — there are many cultures, but they don’t always meld together. To say it’s a melting pot is ignoring the fact that racism and discrimination certainly have and do still exist here.

But I would argue that in some areas it is a “melting pot”, even if I kinda hate that word. I prefer to think of where I live as cultural delta — a place where many mighty tributaries meet as they thunder into the sea. (It is also literally a delta, funnily enough) Here, I grew up absorbing Canadian ideas, studying British history, reading American literature, learning French — but I also grew up listening to Kpop, watching Ghibli, eating rice. When I meet up with friends, we don’t grab a coffee, we grab milk tea. If you ask people here where they would like to visit or live, they will most likely say New York, London, Hong Kong, or Seoul — which tells you a bit about both how powerful and diverse the cultural influences here are.

Perhaps the thing most indicative of Canada’s “multiculturalism” and what I am most grateful for, however, is that I grew up here without fear. I didn’t even know the words “chink” or other words existed until I could access the internet. Recently, the beatings of Asian immigrants in the UK and US brought this home for me — how lucky I am to have such a privileged childhood. And I know this kind of privilege is hard won; in my research of WW2 I found that one of the amusement parks that I used to frequent as a child was built on land that once housed a Japanese internment camp. How fragile our lives are!

But enough about the serious stuff. I can’t really answer your question about how to survive winters in Canada lol, except to say that where I am in Canada it is absolutely necessary everyone own at least 3-4 umbrellas. That’s because this side of the Rockies in BC, the temperatures are pretty mild year round — the coldest it gets is usually 0, and the hottest around 25. But, by god, it rains. I did go to Ottawa in the winter though, where it was -13 one day, but honestly? Everything below 0 feels pretty much the same. Once it gets that cold, you can’t even tell anymore. I wore a skirt and tights that day, with a good, thick winter coat. And I survived :D

Besides not being heckled on the street for being Asian, my favourite things about Canada are probably the amazing diversity of good food and how tremendously beautiful the wilderness here is. And I say this as someone who loses her mind when a mosquito flies past (ie. I am not a nature person). You can kinda tell from these photos here, but the trees and water and whatnot here, are like, real. Maybe I just find that amazing because I lived in Tianjin, but it just feels like this is a city built among the trees and the sky and water that was always here, and not a city where humans have brought in nature for our amusement.

Okay, gotta move on to your other questions or I’ll go on forever. As a state I think Canada does a fairly good job of providing for its own people, but I wish we had a greater global influence. A lot of youth especially express the view that Canada is kinda...boring if your career doesn’t have to do with, like, sports, nature, or medicine, and I would tend to agree. We have great universities, but as someone who studies international relations I often wish Canada would like? Do more? On the global scale. The only thing we really have under our name is the UN peacekeeping, which PM Pearson started after the Suez Canal Crisis. I mean, I’ve heard that many people abroad identify Canada with peace and like ofc I’m not complaining about that, but I just wish our history was a little spicier, ya know? We did kick Americas ass that one time in 1812 and that was amazing. No regrets.

So that brings me to Matt. A lot of Canada’s existence has just been dominated by trying to carve a way between the US and the British while not being swallowed by either. Britain gave us the protection and strength and diversification of identity to not be annexed by the US, but at the same time it hobbled Canada’s relation with our only neighbour. One of the very first treaties Canada negotiated alone, if I’m recalling correctly, was a trade contract with the US over fishing (?) in BC and Alaska, where London was like no you can’t and Canada was like uh we gotta make money too, bro. So yes, while I do believe Mattie is just a very loyal person in general, he was also loyal to the empire because he needed to survive. A lot of Canadian identity was solidified around our prompt assistance of England and the sacrifices made in the two world wars, especially the campaigns in the Low Countries and Italy. Essentially, Canada has historically differentiated itself from the US through its loyalty.

Uuuuh just realized that has nothing to do with my opinion of Matt. Um. I like him? He’s real best friend/big brother material, and I do hc him as far more cunning and capable than canon portrays him to be. However, sometimes he’s just...too nice. He doesn’t have that edge that England has that makes me wanna slap him tf up and sob and call him my baby at the same time. Also, as oumaheroes mentioned here, that kind of selflessness can get pretty toxic. After all, by consistently not voicing or examining your own needs, you make it incredibly and unnecessarily frustrating for the people who care about you to help you, and that creates a relationship just as one sided as one where the person is extremely selfish. Actually, now that I think about it, my biggest gripe with Mattie as a character and Canada as a country is in that word: selfless. Without self. Perhaps because Canada is still so young, but it feels a little lost, a little like it doesn’t know quite know yet why it exists.

TLDR: If you’re under 18 or over 60, Canada is the place to be. If, however, you’re like me and wish you could touch a building that’s over 150 years old and maybe visit a square somebody’s been guillotined in, perhaps try someplace else. Personally Portugal’s golden visa is lookin especially tempting lately

[soundsof71]

So, considering you are a passionate fan of music released in 1971, I feel justifiably obligated to ask you what you think of Buffy Sainte-Marie's 'She Used to Wanna Be a Ballerina' album. 😂 (Also, it would make me beyond happy if you could post more about Buffy, my friend! Thank you! ❣)

Buffy Sainte-Marie + Crazy Horse - what’s not to love? LOL I confess that it was the Crazy Horse connection that caught my attention first. I had a general idea who Buffy was, had seen her on TV a few times, but I was a big Crazy Horse fan. News that they were her backing band for this album was easily enough for me to scoop it up.

They weren’t doing anything much with Neil Young in 1971 (other than this album, on which Neil also appeared!), but they had released a tasty solo album in February 71, produced by Jack Nitzsche (who also produced this, and would later marry Buffy), and featuring Ry Cooder (also featured here, although did not marry Buffy). 

(btw, the first place that Buffy, Ry, and Jack worked together was on the Nic Roeg film Performance, starring Mick Jagger. People obviously remember Mick in that, but musically, Buffy was the best part!) 

She Used To Wanna... also features Jesse Ed Davis, a Native American guitarist and singer who was a frequent “usual suspect” at these sort of “sure, invite everyone!” jam albums of the era, and played a prominent role at 1971′s biggest concert (at least in the US), The Concert for Bangladesh on August 1.

(I know you know  RUMBLE: The Indians Who Rocked The World, the documentary about indigenous music’s influence on rock and roll, which has chapters on both Buffy and Jesse Ed. I just watched it again recently, and love it! A reminder of Buffy’s pivotal role in classic rock history. Not mentioned in the film: she relentlessly championed the work of her fellow Canadians Joni Mitchell and Leonard Cohen, helping them get their first record deals.)

I haven’t listened to She Used To Wanna Be A Ballerina for a while, so I definitely need to do that, along with posting more pictures of Buffy.  (I can’t believe I’ve only posted two!) 

But I’ll tell you what still stands out to me about that record years later. “Smack Water Jack” is an underrated track from Carole King’s Tapestry that got a ton of airplay at the time. Quincy Jones did an instrumental cover as the title track for his terrific 1971 album, too, but it has somehow faded to obscurity since then. Buffy takes a playful trifle, and turns it into a powerful fable of men of color who explode into violence in response to the violence visited upon them, and self-satisfaction of whites in authority who answer their demands for better living conditions by killing them on the spot. 

No need for a trial when you can murder them in the streets, right? “You can't talk to a man when he don't wanna understand / And he don't wanna understand” hits different when Buffy sings it, and in 2020 for that matter. 

It’s also just a terrific performance whose combination of soul and rock and roll and driving piano in a sort of Old West-sounding context would have made this sound right at home on a record like Elton John’s Tumbleweed Connection  or something by The Band. I’m limited to five video embeds per post so I can’t embed it here, so I'm linking instead: anyone who hasn’t heard this definitely needs to.

Her cover of Neil’s CSNY track “Helpless” has things I like even better than Neil’s original, including Merry Clayton standing in for CSN. Buffy’s version is more muscular (thanks again to Crazy Horse), and taps even more deeply into the isolation of the song that the star power of CSNY somewhat obscured. 

Buffy’s version also made a brief but memorable appearance in the 2018 film Hotel Artemis, starring Jodie Foster. A weird little movie that I loved maybe more than it deserved LOL but I recommend nonetheless:

I know that this album gets attention because of the unusual number of covers, including one by Leonard Cohen, and a cover of a cover that Leonard had made famous on top of that, called "Song of the French Partisan” (hers is the far superior version imo, a song of French resistance to Nazi occupation from the perspective of a woman hiding a resister), but there are a couple of standout originals too. 

I love the title of this record, and the title track is a delightful little stomper that playfully cautions against equating the intentions of grown women with the childhood fantasies they’ve grown out of. More Merry Clayton goodness here on backing vocals too. 

“Soldier Blue” is a powerful song first written for the 1970 film of the same name, billed at the time as “The most savage film in history” -- and maybe it was. It used the 1864 Sand Creek Massacre as a metaphor for Vietnam, and it's still shockingly brutal. It was the third-highest grossing movie in the UK in 1971, though, and the single became a top-10 hit for Buffy there. 

It didn’t do as well here, either the song or the movie. Perhaps not shockingly in retrospect, Soldier Blue was pulled from American theaters after a few days, the Vietnam metaphor not at all lost on the Nixon administration. 

As horrifying as it was, this is about when I was reading Bury My Heart At Wounded Knee (first published in 1970), and Soldier Blue resonated with me in a whole lot of ways. Here’s the song in the opening credits of the movie.

I was also really struck by “Moratorium”, which is the story of “Universal Soldier” (from her 1963 debut, but a bigger hit for Donovan in 1965), coming from the opposite direction. In the earlier song, she blamed war on the soldiers who think that fighting is honorable, but here, she has empathizes with the young men, boys really in many cases, who’ve been lied to by their countries, their parents, and even their friends. They’re not vainglorious. They’ve been duped by people they trusted. 

(I don't think she takes enough into account how many men sign up to fight because they want to embrace and celebrate their worst, most violent impulses, which was of course an undercurrent of “Universal Soldier”, but I appreciate her empathy here. More than one thing is true at a time.)

Buffy goes even farther, though, calling on soldiers to support and validate demands for peace as explicitly supporting them, summed up in the unforgettable cry, "Fuck the war and bring our brothers home!" 

1971 was the peak of antiwar demonstrations in the US, with the biggest crowds ever seen in this country until the 2017 Women’s March. The May 1971 demonstrations pretty much shut down Washington, culminating with Vietnam Veterans Against The War throwing back their medals on the steps of the US Capitol, incredibly powerful stuff to see on TV in my formative years, and Buffy was right there in it. Anti-war songs were a cottage industry for sure, but nobody was writing with the nuance and empathy that Buffy was.

Here’s a 1972 performance of “Moratorium”, Buffy and a piano, and more emotionally bare than that:

There’s obviously lots more to say about Buffy, far outside the realm of protest music that was actually just a small part of her musical palette -- her pioneering experiments with electronic music, her educational philanthropy starting in her 20s, Sesame Street, you name it. Her commercial peak was still in front of her, and while I can’t say that this is my favorite of her records, it does have some of my favorite songs of hers, and 1971 and She Used to Wanna Be A Ballerina is definitely where I went from knowing who Buffy Sainte-Marie was to being a fan. 

I'll also note as I do now and again that while this blog started as an offshoot of a book on 1971 that I’d started but abandoned, I mostly listen to music released now. That’s always been my policy, including in 1971. When 1972 rolled up, I was mostly listening to music from 1972, music from ‘80 in ‘80, ‘91 in ‘91, 2018 in 2018, etc., to name just a few other favorites. (Plus The Beatles, okay? LOL I still listen to The Beatles every day. No apologies.) Honestly? It took me until 2011, in my fifties, when a whole bunch of 40th anniversary editions of 1971 albums got released all at once that made me think, “Wait a minute, this was maybe THE pivotal year in classic rock history!” 

So yeah, the historian in me dug into 1971, but even though I happened to be alive and enthralled by music in that year, what I’m doing here has nothing to do with nostalgia, or any idea that that was the *best* year in music, even if for the narrow slice of music that is classic rock, yeah, it absolutely is. For soul/R&B too, and for the explosion of women artists outside the even narrower confines of pop as well. This is not subject to debate. No year like it, before or since. It's just that classic rock is a such a narrow slice, and I like my slices wide. LOL Which is also why my blog has less and less 1971 content as I go along. 

While my general policy is that my favorite year for music is THIS year, this particular year hasn’t left me as much energy as usual for listening to music. Some of it is These Trying Times™, some of it is my bipolarity and schizophrenia getting the better of me in waves, as is the way with these, uhm, things. (Keep taking those meds, kids!) I listen to music and post about the people making it as a creative act, not a passive or reflexive one, and I just haven’t felt as creative as usual.

(This is also has everything to do with why so many Asks have been piling up unanswered. I apologize if you’re one of the many kind and indulgent souls who’s gotten in touch, but I swear I’m gonna get to ‘em all!)

To get an idea of what I’m ACTUALLY passionate about right now, my “to be edited later” running list of 2020 favorites randomly added to a playlist as I encounter them, to be properly curated later, is at Spotify, cleverly entitled “2020″ -- 94% women, which is about right. LOL 

But since I do in fact listen to old stuff (by which I mean 2019 LOL), I made a list of mostly 2020 bangers from women rockers with some tasty treats from 2019 that I haven’t been able to let go of just yet, inspired by a post I saw at tumblr saying that punk music by women is just plain better (also beyond debate), called “Women Bangers: A Tumblr New Classics Jam”. I’ll be posting an essay with a YouTube playlist soon, because god forbid that I only talk briefly about anything LOL and most of these women need to be heard AND seen.

Like Buffy Sainte-Marie, whom you'll both see and hear more often on my blog soon. Thanks for the reminder! Always a pleasure to hear from you and be challenged by you. :-)

Peace, Tim 

[bazypitchandsimonsnow]

Mages Don’t Meddle

Rating: M

Genre: Angst/Mild Fluff

Word count: 16091

Summary: In a world where magic users must fear each other, Baz Pitch, a British born hex hiding in the 19th century American southwest, is just trying to stay alive. But when he meets a fellow British hex, his world is turned upside down in the most awful, amazing ways possible. PLEASE READ FIRST AUTHOR'S NOTE!!!!

Read on AO3

AN: Alright some of you may know that my favourite book series of all time is The Hexslinger Series by Gemma Files. It’s a gory but brilliant horror/dark fantasy weird western trilogy about gay cowboy wizards fighting Aztec gods. (It's also where my AO3 username comes from). I've been writing this AU on and off for like two years now lol. So when I saw this event, I saw it as motivation to finally finish it. And I did! Idk how many people are gonna like this, considering the obscurity of the books. The mythos is a bit complicated so here are the basic rules of the Hexslinger world:

1. Magic users exist, called "hexes" or "hexslingers” by most English speakers. They’re commonly known of and feared by some humans because of their immense, usually unstable power. Their magic is usually called "hexation" and a common descriptor for anything to do with them is "hexacious." Being a hex can either be passed down from parent to child or appears randomly. Most are children of a hex man and a human woman as pregnancy for a hex woman can be very risky to mother and child, but it's still possible.

2. Hexes aren’t usually born having magic. Their powers manifest at some point later in their lives except in very rare circumstances. For women it usually appears after their first period, while for men it’s usually after some sort of grievous bodily harm, e.g getting hanged or beaten. Before manifestation, some hexes show no sign of magic at all, while others have hints like perfect aim or weirdly good luck. It depends on the person and their power level.

3. Hex magic varies between people based on personality, culture, family history, and power level/type. For example, an experienced Chinese born hex with refined power will have a very different kind of magic than a newly manifested American born hex with more chaotic power. (That’s literally just from the original books lol.) Even hexes similar in multiple aspects can be completely different in the way their magic is expressed.

4. The only universal trait between hexes is that they all have the urge to feed off each other’s magic. They’re like magic vampires (wink wink). If they get too close to each other, they have the immediate urge to absorb the other's power and kill them. It’s completely instinctual and very hard to resist. Hence why hexes can’t be around each other. Or, to use the common phrase from the universe, “mages don’t meddle.”Okay that's the basics. There's A LOT of other stuff but I think that's all you need to know for this fic imo.

TRIGGER WARNINGS: So there's some period typical racism scattered around due Baz being brown in the 19th century American south. It's not too harsh imo but I still want to warn people. I hope I handled it alright, considering I'm a white af Canadian Irish-Jew, but if I didn't I'm very sorry. There's also a bit of period typical homophobia at the start. The closest I get to slurs is the use of "red" and "Indian" in reference to Indigenous people, "queer" in a negative context, references to sand because Baz says he's Egyptian, and Baz being called "darker folk." I felt it would be disingenuous to not include bigotry of the past and pretend things would be all okay for a queer POC like Baz. Especially since Hexslinger itself has major themes of homophobia, racism, and not being accepted in the majority of society. A few mentions of suicide, self harm, and torture too in relation to hex powers emerging too, which is also major in Hexslinger. The series itself is pretty brutal and dirty with lots of bigotry, blood, guts, and death. So those elements have gotten in here. There is some flesh burning stuff but I don't think it's that graphic, feels pretty typical for Carry On imo. Hopefully this all works well/makes sense.

As always, big thanks to Raegan of @carryonmylovelies Now with that all out of the way, enjoy!

———————————————

I gingerly take a sip of my whiskey. It's a horrible rotgut shite, but there’s worse stuff out in the wild west. This Slipfoot Joe’s seems to be okay by my now very, very low standards for this area.

“Well well, if it ain’t a pretty red boy,” the man behind me croons. His voice makes evey inch of my skin crawl.

I let out a deep sigh. I’ve been expecting this, but I’m still not pleased. “Piss off, arsehole.”

“Oh! Didn’t know Indians could sound English!”

“I’m British Egyptian, you twit.”

The man leans on the bar, smiling wide. It’s easier to count the few teeth he has than guess how many he’s lost. “What brings your sandy ass to our great country?”

The Call. The unending Call that signals all of us to come here.

I take another long sip. “Your gorgeous face, obviously. How much do you charge? I’ve heard American men are cheaper here than in England.”

The man reels back scowling. “You think I’m some queer?!”

“Well, I assumed so. Considering you were just flirting with me, a man.”

He snarls, whipping out his pathetic little pistol. The barrel shakes nonstop. “You got some nerve, boy!”

I finish the whiskey and delicately place the glass rim first on the filthy bar. “And you’re a racist bastard. You don’t see me getting all pissy.”

The gunshot happens in slow motion for me. I don’t even need to turn. I simply hold one hand in front of me and let my magic pour from me like a dragon’s breath. It curls out in front of me, a circle of blacks and charcoal greys and burning scarlets. Every hex’s magic is different. Mine is like a constant roaring fire, always threatening to consume me.

The bullet hits the shield with a tinny clink. Racist Man is frozen with wide, terrified eyes. I turn to him, orange and red reflecting in my grey eyes.

“You- You’re... a hex?!” He splutters.

“Thought that was pretty bloody obvious. Now go, before I drink your blood.”

Racist Man and his buddy scamper out of the tavern. I let the force field dissipate, crackling and popping in the air like a dying campfire. Joe, the bartender and eponymous Slipfoot, sighs as he cleans another glass.

“You know,” Joe says, “I’ve met other hexes. They’re stupid reckless assholes but they ain’t ever drank blood. Just suck each other’s magic.”

I chuckle. “Well they don’t know that, do they?”

“No, lucky for you. What’s a Brit like you even doin’ here anyway?”

My mouth presses into a thin line. I envy him. He can't hear The Call from that damned Hex City. I heard it all the way in Washington, and before I knew it I was on a train southeast. The only reason I haven’t actually gone to the horrid place is sheer stubbornness.

“I’m a hex. Where else would I be going?”

Joe freezes. He stares at me with more concern than fear. “I’d be careful, son. Those hexes I met? One of them was Reverend Rook himself. He’s beyond bad news, ‘specially with that heathen goddess by his side.”

“I know.” I trace my finger on the old wood, trying to focus on that instead of the ringing in my head. “But what choice do I have?”

———————————————

1867, two years after America’s bloody civil war, and it seems they’re about to be plunged into a new one. Except it won’t be slavery versus abolition this time, but humans versus magic. 

The news has spread like wildfire. In the final days of the war, a confederate soldier and unofficial chaplain named “Reverend” Asher Rook was sentenced to hang for abandoning his regiment. But he survived, and the suffering of the ordeal caused his hex powers to emerge. Rumour has it one Bible verse from his lips can level an entire town. Rook decided to use his new powers to steal and murder his way through the west, aided by his ruthless gunslinging lieutenant (and rumoured lover) Chess Pargeter.

He should’ve been just another hex outlaw for those American Pinkertons to take down. But somehow, a mere month ago, Rook made a pact with an Aztec goddess. And together they’ve created New Azteclan, or Hex City to the common man. According to the magical homing signal I hear, that every hex hears, it’s a place where hexes can lose their insatiable urge to feed off each other’s magic. We’ll no longer have to be loners by nature, picked off one by one by humanity. We could be together. We could be safe.

But at what cost? Nothing in life comes without a cost. I know that too well. My magic cost me my home, my family, and a good part of my sanity. I’d do anything to not be a danger to others anymore. And the possibility is right there. All I need to do is go further south and cross the border into Mexico to reach Hex City. But once I do that, there’s no going back. The temptation of the Call will be too strong. And whatever price The Reverend wants, he’ll get it from me.

I sit at the fire, chewing on some absolutely horrific jerky. I’m trying to focus on the flames instead of the voice in my head. I’m not sure whose it is. Maybe Rook’s, maybe his witch goddess’. It doesn’t have a discernible tone, just sort of an indistinct everyman sound, or a thousand voices speaking the same thing. Either way, it’s very annoying.

Come, it whispers. Come seek out Ixchel, the Mother of Hanged Men. Come stand before Her priest-king, to offer up your service. Come to build the First City of the Sixth World- the world of wonder, the world of power. Come, and join New Azteclan.

“Shut up, shut up, shut up!” I shout into emptiness, slamming the side of my head with my fist.

“I haven’t said anything yet,” someone replies weakly.

I bolt up. My magic roars to life inside me, a fireball forming in the palm of my hand. “Who said that?!”

The man slowly steps out of the darkness. He must be no older than myself, with his young, round freckled face. He has curly bronze hair, capped by an old second hand cowboy hat. His brown leather coat, plaid shirt, riding boots, and jeans are all filthy with desert dirt. A horse with saddle bags stands behind him. His blue eyes are wide and nervous. I notice a smell on him. Like green fire and smoke, with a strong scent of something brown and sweet. He smells like something I would gladly eat.

He’s a hex.

“Don’t you dare come any closer, you prick,” I say between gritted teeth. “I won’t hesitate to burn you to a crisp.”

The other boy shakes his head. “I’m not here to drain you. I...I just wanted to ask for some help.” He sounds British like me, but more rough and nervous, stumbling over his words.

“Yeah, right. Do I look that gullible? ‘Mages don’t meddle.’ We’d all drain each other dry if we were given the chance.”

He sighs heavily. “Well, of course I want to by instinct, but I’m not going to. I was just wondering if you had any food. All of mine got stolen by some angry humans.”

I consider just turning him away, or draining his magic and leaving his dried out corpse for the vultures. But he looks so desperate. How long has this young man been out here alone? My aunt had always warned me to be wary of all other hexes. We’re a bloodthirsty species, Basil. Never trust another hex, ever. Not even me. But I’m not my aunt.

I sit down again. “Fine. You can have some jerky. Just don’t come too close alright? I’d like to keep my magic and soul where they are, please.”

The man smiles (he has a nice smile) and sits opposite me at the fire. I throw a bag of jerky, and he catches in one hand. He shoves it in his mouth like a ravenous animal.

“So,” I say, “what’s your name?”

“Simon Snow,” he rep;ies, mouth still half full. “Your’s?”

“Baz Pitch.” Simon chuckles a bit, and I frown. “What’s so funny?

“Well, Baz Pitch is a pretty ridiculous name.”

“No more ridiculous than Simon Snow,” I snap. “What, were you named by circus performers?”

“Maybe. Not sure, actually.” Snow looks at the fire, but it feels like he’s looking right through it, his gaze very far away.

“Why’s that?”

Simon shakes his head. “Hey, are you going to Hex City?”

I huff, blowing some loose, dirty hair out of my eyes. I’m too tired to stop him from changing the subject. “I don’t know. Are you?

He shrugs. “Maybe. So far I am. The stories and Call do make it sound so wonderful.”

I scoff loudly. “Of course they do. Rook wants people to come. Then we’ll get there and be sacrificed to his bloodthirsty goddess. That’s probably what happened to Pargeter. No one’s heard from him lately, according to the locals.”

“But we’ll lose the hunger! What if the Reverend just wants us to be safe? Y’know, as a kindness to his own people.”

“No one does anything out of kindness, Snow. Least of all hexes.”

“You gave me food out of kindness, didn’t you?”

I glare at him over the flames. He shrugs with a faint smile. Fuck. He has a really nice smile.

 “I’m going to sleep,” I mutter. “But I’m putting a shield around me. Touch it and you’ll be burned alive. So don’t get any ideas about taking my magic.”

Simon throws his hands up in innocence. “Wouldn’t dream of it.”

I lay down on my pallet, throwing up my force field. The crackle and hiss of magic around me distracts from the beautiful mage no more than seven feet from me. Whom I’m not sure I want to kiss or kill. Maybe both.

———————————————

I wake when the sun's centre in the sky. I’m breathing, so this Simon Snow hasn’t drained me dry. That’s good, I guess. 

I sit up bleary eyed. Snow is passed out on his own cot, drooling profusely with his mouth wide open (mouth breather). He’s put up his own shield, of course, (at least he’s somewhat sensible). It sort of looks like an electrical explosion, white bolts constantly combusting around him in bubble form. He smells so powerful. It’s taking all of my willpower to not hurt him. To not submit to my basic hex desires.

I take my sweet time to pack my things and douse the fire pit, secretly hoping Simon will wake up before I run out of excuses. Luckily, with a very loud snort, Snow bolts upwards. There’s terror in his eyes, and his breath is uneven and shallow. I know that look. I’m no stranger to nightmares myself.

“A good morning to you, Snow,” I say.

Simon lets out a long breath, waving a hand to dissolve his shield. “You didn’t kill me.”

“And you didn’t kill me. What a miracle.”

“I’ll say. Are you leaving?”

“Obviously.”

“Where to?”

I sigh heavily. “Well, my map says, there’s a town southeast from here. I haven’t been there before but it probably isn’t too bad. I was going to hide there for at least a bit.”

Simon picks at his nail beds, even though they’re already ragged and bloody. “Can I...can I come with you? I haven’t been around anyone in so long, y’know. It’d be nice to have someone to talk to”

I look at him with the most neutral gaze I can muster. “Are you going to kill me?”

He shrugs. “Haven’t killed you yet, have I?”

“There’s still time.”

Simon stands up, brushing the dust off his pants. “Alright, then I’ll make myself very clear. Baz, I’m not going to kill you. I’m not going to fight you at all, alright?”

I must admit that I’ve been lonely these few months in the desert. Hell, I’ve been lonely for the past few years. I’ve actually missed the company of others. But it’s not like humans or hexes want to be around me. Except for this one, it seems. Maybe this wouldn’t be too bad. If we don’t kill each other first that is.

“Alright, fine. Just don’t try anything or I’ll burn you from the inside out.”

Simon keeps smiling. “I’ll keep that in mind.”

We mount our horses and ride off. I try to keep my eyes ahead instead of on Snow.

———————————————

“I can’t believe the food here,” Snow says. “It’s so much more spicy than in the North.”

“We are closer to Mexico, Snow,” I reply. I’m trying to figure out our route, while also listening to Snow when he’s more than six feet away. The hunger is manageable from this distance. Mostly.

“Well, yeah, but it’s so insane! Why can’t the north people get some spice from here? It would make their chicken more tolerable. London street food was awful but at least it had some flavour!”

That makes me snort out a laugh no matter how much I try not to. Snow grins at me, and his face is literal sunshine. Why must he be so perfect? It’s not fair. “London street food? You mean fish and chips? Those aren’t half bad, if I’m remembering correctly.”

Snow’s tawny face gets a little pink. He rubs the back of his slightly sunburnt neck. “Y-Yeah, they weren’t too bad. Just...other stuff was terrible...”

“Like what?” It’s not late at night now. I’m less inclined to let his dodging go. Call me crazy, but I’d like to know about the man I’m travelling with.

“Um...” He looks down at his horse’s neck. “I-I lived on the London streets, literally, until I was old enough to work for room and board. Finding anyone who would house a hex though, that was a challenge.”

His laugh is tinny and hollow. My heart, or what dark horrible mass we hexes have in place of one, twists at the words. I wish I was surprised. His story is all too familiar.

“You don’t need to be ashamed,” I say firmly. “We all have our own rough pasts. It’s practically required for hexes, in my eyes.”

Snow doesn’t look up, but his (pretty) plain blue eyes flick over to me. “Really?”

I nod. “Yes, of course. Hexes are usually shunned and harmed. Finding one who hasn’t been in a dire situation is more rare.”

“Have you met a lot of hexes?”

“Some. Mostly, I’ve heard stories. Far too many are like your’s.”

“Is your’s?”

My grip on the reins is so tight my knuckles are going pale. Memories rush through my head no matter how much I want to stop them. The darkness, the pain, the fire, then the stench of burnt human flesh, all capped off by years of trying to survive on my own.

“Unfortunately, ye-”

“What the fuck?!”

Simon’s screech is ungodly in volume and tone. His horse lets out a similarly panicked bray. She bucks up, but can’t get very high with the red vines tangled around her legs.

“Oh fuck,” I hiss. I try to pull back my own horse, but his legs are similarly wrapped up. The vines circle up and around us. I kick and stamp them with all my might. The blood red flowers look like the gaping mouths of monsters.

“What the fuck are these things?!” Snow bellows. He tries to rear his horse back, but nearly throws himself backwards off his saddle instead. “Fucking shite!”

“Don’t do that, Snow, it won’t help!”

“Then what should I do?!” 

“Just stay still!”

Thankfully, Snow does as I say. Not thankfully, I’m not sure what to do. I know that human blood gets rid of the Weeds, but even if I count as human in this regard, you need a relatively large amount of it. So unless I want to pass out, I’ll need to think of something else. But what else can curb evil bloodthirsty Aztec plants?

“Baz!” Snow’s horse pancis the more the weeds wrap around her, which makes Snow panic in turn. He looks at me with desperate wide eyes. “Baz, do something!”

Oh, fuck it. I’ll solve this the way I solve my other problems.

I reach deep within myself, down to the flames that burn in what’s hopefully my soul, or at least what hexes have instead. I grab that power and let it out through my arm. Fire roars to life in the palm of my hand, and I unleash the full force of it on the Weeds. A tidal wave of blackened-red flames engulf the plants.

“Jesus Christ!” Simon shouts. The plants don’t burn per se, I’m not sure they even can. But they still shrink away from us. I keep pushing more magic out until they Weeds a good distance away. 

“Run,” I say, “now!”

Snow and I both wrench our horses 180 degrees and run like the wind. We ride fast and far with no destination, but we keep each other in sight. Only when my pulse is no longer hammering in my ears do I start to slow down. Snow follows, and eventually we stop near a large tree. All four of us are breathing hard.

“Bloody hell,” Snow says. “W-What the fuck were those?”

“Red Plague Weeds,” I reply, dismounting my horse. “They’ve been popping up all around here. No one knows where they come from, but we’re all pretty sure they have something to do with Rook and his witch goddess. Just like every other bizarre thing nowadays.”

“How come I haven’t seen them before in the towns?”

“Because the way to get rid of the Weeds permanently is blood, Snow.”

Snow’s eyes go wide with horror. “Blood? Any blood?”

I sadly shake my head. “No, only fresh human blood. I’ve heard a bowl full collected from the townsfolk is good enough. I don’t even know if hex blood counts. No one’s ever tried, as far as I know. We’re extremely lucky we got away.”

“So I gathered,” Snow sighs. “Now what? We’ve gone a good way backwards now, if I had to guess.”

“Agreed. We’ll have to try and move around the Weeds. If we’re lucky, the town will still be reachable.”

“No one has ever called hexes lucky.”

We both laugh a little. Sometimes laughter is the only way to deal with our horrible existences. I pull the waterskin out of my bag and take a deep, long drink. “Let’s stay here for a moment, though. That blast took a lot out of me.”

“Y-Yeah, that makes sense. Um, I’ll just...”

He turns his horse to the side, trotting away from me. My stomach drops out. Where’s he going? Am I going to be alone again? I’ve only been with Snow for one day. That’s nothing compared to the last two years I’ve been on my own. But now I can’t imagine going back to that crushing, never ending loneliness.

“Heading out, Snow?” I keep my tone neutral, holding back the desperate tremor that threatens to bleed out. “Suppose I’ll see you around, then.”

Snow whips his head around. If I were a more hopeful person, I’d say he looks even more panicked than when we were tangled in the Weeds. “W-What? No, I was just gonna go a little further away...”

“Do I smell that bad?” I probably do. Hygiene is not a priority in these parts.

“No! The opposite, actually...” Snow looks to the side, a little red on his face. “You used a lot of magic before. I can still smell some of it. I, uh, want to keep my promise...”

Oh. Right. I should count myself lucky that he didn’t drain me the minute we stopped. “Yes, yes, of course, makes perfect sense.”

“Unless...you want me to go...”

I gulp down the massive lump in my throat. “Do you want to go, Snow?”

Snow scratches his neck. He points his thumb to the side. “I’ll be waiting over there, until we’ve both cooled down. Alright?”

I would never admit how much relief that brings me. “Alright. We’ll set off again in an hour or so.”

“Okay.” Snow trots over to a good distance away. His brown, sweet smell still lingers in the air, but it fades just enough for me to rest properly. I sit back against the tree, drinking a good portion of my waterskin. Out of the corner of my eye, I can see Snow doing the same. I try to not watch him. But it’s very, very hard.

———————————————

Nightfall hits before we reach the town. Snow can’t ride very fast, and I’m still more than a bit drained. So once again, I have to sit opposite the man who will most likely kill me soon.

He fidgets endlessly, picking at his nails and sleeve. It’s infuriating. He gnaws on the jerky like a crazed cat or something. I huff and shake my head. Snow looks up at me.

“What?” he says through a bite.

“Do you ever stop moving? We’ve been sitting here for over an hour and there hasn’t been a single moment of stillness from you.”

Snow snorts. “I don’t see how that affects you.”

“It’s annoying.”

He snorts again, but there’s a small smile now too. “Maybe this is the real reason hexes don’t interact. We're all arseholes.”

“That is hardly a hex thing, Snow. I’ve known humans and hexes alike that I can’t tolerate.”

“Am I one of them?

I hope my face doesn’t flush too hard. “You’re still here, aren’t you?”

He chuckles quietly and goes back to eating his jerky, with far less fidgeting this time thankfully. We sit in silence for a while. I keep sneaking looks at him, then tearing my gaze away every time. The firelight makes Snow’s tawny skin almost glow and his bronze hair sparkle gold. He’s a constellation of moles and freckles. He’s a gorgeous mess. Just looking at him, I can almost forget that we’re supposed to be enemies.

“What part of England are you from anyway?” Snow asks through a mouthful of dried out meat.

“Hampshire. Though if you asked the people here, they’d say I’m from Buckingham bloody Palace.”

Snow throws his head back laughing. It’s a ridiculous, wonderful sound. “Damn true! I’ve lived on the streets of London for the past ten years and an American asked me if I’m related to the bloody queen! They have no idea about accent differences. They think every Brit is royalty.”

I freeze. Snow’s laughs slowly subside. He must notice the utter panic in my eyes. “You lived on the streets of London for a decade? That long?”

He pulls in, curling his thin body in on itself. This Simon is a hex like me, a terrifying being filled with unimaginable power, yet right now, he looks so...small. “Well, not the whole time. It’s been on and off. I found some places to live for a bit but they never lasted. Thank God for magic. Or thank the Devil, if the humans are right about us.”

He chuckles nervously. I shift uncomfortably in my spot, trying to hide the way his laugh makes me face heat up even more. “I guess so. It’s taken care of me since-”

There’s a crack. It’s small, far off, almost indistinguishable from the regular sounds of the desert, but it’s there. My aunt always said I have the ears of a bat. I swing my head around.

“What is it?” Snow says.

“Hush! I think I heard something.”

Slowly, I stand up, crouched over with my fists clenched. My magic sizzles and sparks inside me, begging to be used. I see Snow stand too at the edge of my vision.

“Die hex scum!”

The man launches himself out of the darkness, jagged knife in hand. He knocks me flat down to the ground. All the breath is forced out of me as my back hits the sand.

“Fuck!” I wheeze.

I push at him with both arms, thankfully keeping my pretty face out of his slashing range. He writhes and struggles like a rabid wolf. His dirty crazed smile, missing most of his teeth, looms over me. I recognise him.

“You,” I growl. “Did you really follow me all the way here from Slipfoot’s, you pig?!”

“Die!” He says that like it means absolutely anything, like I haven’t heard it a hundred times before.

Racist Man has no technique. He just screeches and flails with his knife. Aunt Fiona’s words come to my mind immediately. “Every self respecting hex needs to know how to defend himself, Basil.” She said just before pinning me to the ground in one move. I hook my leg around his and flip him onto his back. He gasps and lets out a rattling cough. I hover over him, knee on his chest, pinning his knife hand to the ground.

“You don’t deserve to live, you sand demon.” He spits at me, splashing against my cheek. I flick it off with ease.

“Such an original opinion.” I feel the fire blazing in my gut, threatening to consume myself and everything around me. “I should scorch off all your skin.”

“Course you would. All you hexes, just filthy murderers. No wonder y’all are fleeing to Rook’s heathen paradise. Your kind don’t belong around civilized folks.”

I growl again. First he despises my skin colour, then he thinks he knows anything about hexation. This bastard, so stupid and ignorant. We’re only monsters because we have to be. Because men like him come at us with knives and guns and nooses. There’s no holding the fire back. My hand heats up around his wrist. He screeches as his skin sizzles under my fingers. He drops the knife, but I don't stop. All my rage pushes out through my hand and onto his increasingly scorched skin.

“Get off me!”

I turn to see Simon, struggling against another man. His fingers spark and sputter uselessly as he pounds against the guy with a hand around his throat.

“Better save your man over there,” Racist Man hisses.

I give him one last good death stare. I see him shiver just slightly. At least he has some good sense. “Run fast and far. If you come near us again, so help me God I’ll melt through your entire brain.”

The look of terror in his eyes is enough of an answer. I jump off him and run towards Snow.

“Oi! Off him, now!” I roar.

The other man turns to look at me. He has the same crazed look as his friend. “Or what, you piece of devil shit?!”

“Or this.”

I turn to the fire. With only one hand outstretched, my magic wraps around it, and pushes my power into the very core. The flames shoot nine feet upwards, illuminating the vast dark in blinding light. I turn back to the terrified human. With one swing of my arm, the pillar slams into him. He’s sent flying in a shower of flames and skids on the ground, tossing up a cloud of dustin his wake. I start to march towards him. But Snow throws up his arm to stop me.

“Let me,” he growls.

The tone of his voice stops me in my tracks. Simon stomps towards him, his entire hand now covered in tiny sparks like fireworks. His assaulter sits up, panting heavily.

“You better run now,” Snow says.

He sneers. “Don’t tell me-”

“GO!”

Snow’s magic explodes like a fucking bomb. It’s a bolt of violent and powerful energy that hits the assailant square in the chest. He flies back even farther. I stumble from the sheer force of it. The magic disperses as quickly as it appeared. Snow is panting, bronze curls still staticy with stray sparks. The human scrambles and runs away into the darkness.

We’re left there, breathing hard in the darkness, the embers of the now dead fire our only light. Simon tries to pull out the crackling electricity still clinging to his hair. It curls around his fingers and won’t dissipate no matter how much he shakes his hand out. Finally, I find my voice again.

“That was...”

“Awful?” Snow mumbles. “Yeah, I know. Half the time my magic doesn’t work, the other half it explodes. Pretty fucking annoying.”

I turn to look at him properly, still trying to dust off the little sparks. “No, it was incredible. I’ve never seen magic that powerful, or beautiful.”

Oh fuck, why did I say that? I’m going to explode myself any second. Simon freezes, then turns to me. His lovely plain eyes are soft. Half of his mouth pulls up into a smile. My pulse is pounding in my ears. “N-No one’s ever called it beautiful before. And...no one’s tried to save me either.”

He starts to reach out to me with his spark kissed digits. I see the little bolts pulling towards me like I’m a magnet. My own magic flares to surface, reaching back towards him. Tiny flames from my fingers curl around the lightning. And a part of me, that horrible instinctual part, desperately wants to grab his hand and add his beautiful, terrifying energy to my own until his body is nothing but an empty husk.

I take a large step away, hands behind my back. Simon does the same. His eyes are wide with terror now. We both know how close we came to giving into temptation.

“We should go to bed,” I mutter.

Snow nods furiously. I speed walk to my side of the dead fire. We both lay down and pull the blankets to our reddening ears. The only sound for ages is the desert wind whistling through the cacti. Until Snow decides to speak up again, God help me.

“Baz?”

“What, Snow?” I snap. I can’t talk to him anymore, it’s too damn painful.

“Have...Have you ever actually fully drained anyone?”

Oh. I wasn’t expecting that. The question hits me in my heart. All that comes to mind is my aunt’s face as I saw her for the first time in weeks. Her happiness turned to utter horror in seconds. The memory still aches deep inside me. I can almost feel that horrible hunger when I first manifested. I squeeze my eyes shut and take a deep breath. “No. But I’ve come close. You?”

Snow pauses too. I can hear his shaky breathing clearly. “I had a hex friend back in London. Penelope. She was really good at magic, like you, so she tried to help me. We could only see each other for an hour a day for safety’s sake, and it worked for awhile. But one time, my magic got so out of control that I came this close to draining her.” He makes a loud sniffing noise. I hate imagining the tears I know are rolling down his face. “She told me it wasn’t my fault but I didn’t care. I didn’t want to hurt her. Next day I got on a boat to America. That was almost a year ago. I’ve been alone ever since, and it’s awful.”

“Is that why you want to go to Hex City?”

“Yeah. I mean, I just want to be able to have some choice, you know? Not make choices because of this power I never asked for. Don’t you feel like that?”

I think about my mother, who lost her life because of what we are. Or my six weeks of torture by that madman. Or how I had to run away from my family in fear of what I’d accidentally do to them.

“Yes,” I whisper, closing my eyes, “all the damn time.”

———————————————

We ride leisurely under the blistering sun. The desert has melted into more of a hot, grassy plain. Surprisingly, the climate and terrain actually gets less tortuous the further south you go in this awful state. I’ve only gone this far south once before. The Call somehow gets even stronger here. It threatens to fill every nook and cranny of my brain, but I beat it back. No disgraced Confederate chaplain or Aztec witch woman gets to decide what I do.

Snow is mumbling to himself about it being too hot. My head is whirring with a terrible, awful idea, but it won’t go away. My eyes keep drifting towards his beautiful face, and my mind keeps thinking of his beautiful magic. I got only a taste of the endless, consuming feeling of it, and it was exhilarating. If only he could control it.

I groan. “Snow, stop your horse.”

He looks at me confused, but does as I say. “What is it?”

“Get off. I’m going to help you with your magic.”

His eyes bug out of his skull. “What?! Why?”

“Because as incredible as your magic can be, I’d rather not have you explode when you sleep ten feet away from me.” 

It’s a convincing lie. Honestly, I want him to be able to protect himself. I don’t know exactly how long it will take to get to the south, or what could happen before then. Simon might’ve been killed if I wasn’t there. And I don’t know how long I will be with him.

I swing off my horse and Snow follows. We walk out into the empty plateau. He shuffles his feet nervously, chewing at his nails.

“Stay here,” I say.

I walk out and place my old empty flask on a cactus (it’s rusting anyway). Snow looks at it confused. I gesture to the metal bottle, then put my hands behind my back. “Hit that with a blast but avoid the cactus.

“O-Okay...” I watch his throat as he gulps. God, I want to touch that throat, I want to touch everywhere. But I’ll kill him if I do. It makes me hate my magic even more.

Simon raises his hand and takes aim. Small sparks dance between his fingers. One by one, they begin to increase. A small ball of lightning collects in his palm. Snow curls his fingers in, but they seem to be struggling. The ball starts to grow larger and Snow clenches harder. With little to no warning, a lightning bolt shoots out and hits the side of the flask. A blackened mark is left in its wake, but that’s nothing compared to the cactus. A massive chunk has been blown out of the top. It’s charred remains lay strewn on the gras.

“Fuck,” he groans. “Sorry, I was losing control, I had to let it go. Would’ve been much worse if I didn’t.”

“That’s alright, Snow. You technically did hit the flask.”

Snow scoffs, running a hand through his beautiful, sweaty hair. “Sure, I guess...”

I pluck the flask from the half destroyed desert fauna. Another horrible idea is coming to my mind, and I just might be mad enough to do it. “Maybe you need a greater motivator for staying in control.”

“Huh?”

I place the flask on my hand and hold my arm out to the side. “Hit the flask, but not me.”

Snow goes wide eyed again and inhales sharply like he’s been kicked. “A-Are you serious?! You just saw what I did to that cactus, right?”

“Well, you’re going to have to be accurate, unless you want me to end up like said cactus”

He pulls at his curls anxiously. The tiniest of parks fly off the ends. “I don’t know, Baz. I don’t want to hurt you...”

I try to ignore my rapidly beating heart. It’s been so annoying this past week, trying to get what it can’t have. I just flash a smirk at him. “Well, I believe that you won’t. Care to prove me right?”

A red colour spreads across his face. Part of me hopes that’s not just the sun affecting his pale, freckled complexion. “Alright, I’ll try.”

He rubs his hands together. His skin simmers with magic once again. It smells intoxicatingly good. Snow holds his right hand out, palm flat. The electricity builds on the surface. He keeps his hand clenched, but the energy threatens to spill over his fingers. I resist the urge to run in as fast as I can. I didn’t lie, I do trust him. But living on my own for almost three years has given me quite the self preservation instinct.

Sweat prickles Snow’s brow. He uses his opposite arm to keep the other one steady. “C’mon, Simon,” I whisper. “You can do it.”

The jagged white bolt shoots from his skin, far less formless than the last one. It zigs and zags, but in the end hits the flask straight on. The bottle explodes in a shower of jagged metal. I throw up a makeshift shield just in time. When I look at Snow, he’s flat on his ass, panting hard.

“Holy shit,” he says.

“‘Holy shit’ is right,” I respond with a chuckle.

He looks at me with a wide grin. It shines brighter than the midday sun. “I did it! That’s the most controlled my magic has ever been! Thank you, Baz.”

I nod. “You’re welcome, Snow. My aunt always said danger is a great motivator to learn. Especially when it comes to magic.”

Snow lays down on the grass, panting hard. It seems he’s not going to get up any time soon. “Your aunt, was she the one that taught you about magic?”

I kick at a piece of rusted shrapnel, my back to the resting Snow. “Yes, before it manifested, obviously. She wanted me to be prepared just in case. Her whole side of the family has a history of magic. It only appears every few generations or so. We both drew the short ends of the bloodline straw I guess.”

“You’re lucky with that, y’know. I never had anyone to teach me properly. Penny tried, but we never got far enough to make a difference. When I first got magic, this guy called the Mage offered to help. But it turned out he just wanted to drain me. I killed him by accident when he tried. I really didn’t mean to hurt hum, but he wouldn’t stop...”

I turn to him. There’s far too much pain in his eyes. “You had every right to defend yourself. Don’t feel bad.”

He lifts his head up. His smile is sort of sad, but it’s still gorgeous. “Thanks, Baz.”

I smile back as best I can. “You’re most welcome, Snow.” I place my hands in my pockets, desperately clenching my fists in hopes to keep my emotions at bay. “Unfortunately, I’m out of flasks. But we do have an oversupply of fauna. Want to try and not destroy a cactus this time?”

“Okay.” Snow nods, breathing steadily. “Okay, I’ll try.”

Snow takes his stance across from another unfortunate cactus. I watch him and give advice, but slowly have to back away as Snow’s sweet scent permeates the air. I try not to imagine being close to Snow, not having to fear him, him not having to fear me. Oh, what a life that could be.

———————————————

After another week of dodging the Red Weed, we finally get to somewhere. Covent Gardens, a town I suppose is named after the London borough. It’s sizable enough to have a slightly good inn; as in none of the panels are falling off and the sign is missing only a single letter. That’s practically a palace in these parts. I walk in with gusto, making the shutters rattle, Simon following behind me with his head.

Everyone looks at us. I’m not sure how obvious our hexation is, but I suppose we look enough like trouble. Plus my skin tone isn’t an asset here. Or anywhere, honestly. So I sneer and most turned away.

“They’re afraid of us,” Simon mumbles.

“As they should be,” I reply deadpan. I go straight to the barkeep, a bulky white man with truly horrific mutton chops. “I need two rooms.”

The man crosses his unnaturally large arms. “We don’t serve... people like you.”

I grip the bar lip, nails digging into the half rotted wood. “Like me how? Hexes or brown people?”

He sneers at me. “Neither.”

The fire blazes in my eyes. Wood blackens under my skin. “Now listen here, you stupid bastard, you better rent us a room or-”

“Now, now, Basilton,” a familiar voice says, “no need to be so rude. I’m sure we can come to an agreement.”

“Hello, Nicodemus.”

Nico moves to stand next to me. His suit is cheap, the stitches fraying at the seams. He’s still got that sort of menacing look, but he looks tired too.

“Fancy seeing you here, Pitch. How’s your aunt?” He smiles, showing off his missing eye teeth. It makes me want to punch him in his stupid face.

“Why would you care, Petty? You’re the one who left her after everything she did for you.”

He hangs his head back with a groan. “Still defending your family’s honour, I see. Ain’t my fault I wanted to realise my full potential.”

“What, by getting your teeth pulled out so you could get magic? Even when my aunt warned you what a curse being a hex was? You’re still an arrogant idiot then.”

Nicodemus growls and grabs my wrist. His magic reaches out to clash with my own. It’s slick like oil, wrapping around my fire like a snake. But there’s a roughness to it. A sort of mangy, wild energy that I remember all too well from the hex duel with my aunt. Now, I can smell the acrid tang of it too. It leaves a sour taste in the back of my throat. I’m not surprised his magic is as disgusting as he is.

“Looks like you went through some shit too, Basilton,” he hisses. “You’ve got the same fire as dear old Fi. What, the guilt of letting your mum die finally get to you? Try to end it all? Too bad, you just became the monster she never wanted you to be instead.”

His power gnashes at mine, trying to rip it apart and eat it. But Nicodemus has made a fatal assumption; that he’s more powerful than me. I push back against him hard. The fire rushes through my every vein. I revel in the way Nico’s eyes go wide. My hand shoots up to his throat and I shove him down so hard his back bends against the wooden bar.

“You bastard,” I growl. “After all these years you still don’t know how to keep your bloody mouth shut.” I hold his throat even tighter. His eyes bug out of his skull. “Maybe I should shut it permanently.”

I open the gates within, and his magic begins to pour into me. It’s the world’s greatest adrenaline rush. I’m invincible, powerful, a bloody god. Nico gasps and tries to push me away. But I’m still stronger. He could never stop me.

“Baz!” Snow shouts. “Stop it!”

I turn to him with burning eyes. Everything I see is cloudy, like a smoke screen or rippling water. “Why?!”

“Because,” his voice is desperate, and maybe even caring, “we shouldn’t be the monsters they think we are. Just look at them, Baz!”

I still have enough sense to hear what he says. The patrons cower in fear, eyes wide with terror as they look at me. It’s not an expression anyone wants to be subjected to, or cause. And though I hate him, Nicodemus is right. My mother never wanted me to be this. Another terrible, murderous, evil hex.

With all my strength and good sense, I find the will to let Nicodemus’ neck go. His power rushes back into him with a sputtering gasp. I glare at him as I pull away, fingers still trailing with flames.

“Leave,” I say flatly. “Now.”

Nicodemus runs faster than I’ve ever seen a man run before. I take a few deep breaths. It takes a moment for my magic to balance out. It still yearns for Nicodemus’ power, but I beat it back into submission. I won’t let the hunger control me. Then I walk towards the now terrified barkeep.

“Rooms still not available?” He shakes his head frantically. “Good.” I slap down some American money. “Two rooms, please. Also throw in some whiskey. I need a drink after all that.”

The man picks two keys out of a box, then a bottle and glasses from the shelf. He shoves them both forward on the bar and takes two large steps back. I snatch them up with a tip of my ridiculous cowboy hat.

“Cheers, mate.”

Snow and I take a table in a corner. No one dares to look at us. I pour drinks for both of us and shove his glass to the other side of the table. We’re as far apart as we can be but it’s still risky. My power is still hungry. And Simon still smells delicious. But I won’t hurt him. I can’t.

“So,” Simon says, vowel drawn out, “who was that?”

I throw back the whiskey. It’s sour and burns my throat, but it's better than Slipfoot’s at least. “His name is Nicodemus Petty. He and my aunt Fiona were friends growing up. They bonded over their mutual family history of hexation. But when my aunt and his sister, Ebb, manifested magic as teenagers, Nico was jealous. Fiona and Ebb both tried to tell him that hex magic was far more of a curse than a blessing, but he never listened. He wanted the power. When I was about nine, he finally succeeded in activating his own latent magic.”

“By having two of his teeth ripped out...”

“Mhm. First thing he did was stumble all bloody mouthed to my aunt’s flat.” I clench the glass so hard I nearly break it. “The bastard attacked her by surprise, and tried to steal her magic. He almost killed her, but Fiona got a lucky shot and threw him out the window.” I take a deep breath, trying to stay calm. “As you can guess, I was there. It wasn’t pretty.”

“I can imagine.” He pulls in, picking at his nails nervously. “Um, if you don’t mind me asking...w-what was he talking about? With your mum?”

I pour myself another helpful shot of whiskey. I want to drown my brain in the stuff, honestly. I’ve never talked about my mum, it’s too painful, like ripping out a fingernail. But Snow has shown so much of himself to me. It seems unfair to hide. “My aunt and I aren’t the only hexes in our family.”

His eyes go wide as the revelation hits him, “Your mum is a hex too?”

I nod slowly, then drink the alcohol in one gulp. The warmth tingles in my veins and loosens my tongue. I stare at the glass, watching the light refract through it’s bends. “She was, but my father is human. They loved each other enough to not be scared, I guess. They never meant to have children. I was an accident, but my mother wanted me in spite of the risks. My father said she cried with happiness when she saw I was a boy. She thought if she kept me safe, I’d never become a full hex.” I flick a paint chip off the table with more force than necessary. “Then she died protecting me, doing what she promised.”

“How? Was it another hex?”

“Even worse, scared humans.” 

Snow’s face falls even more. He takes a long sip from his own drink. “So they tried to kill her?”

“They tried to kill all of us. Someone heard of my mother’s hexation, and they rallied a group together to fight our family. It wasn’t a real fight though. The cowards snuck in and tried to stab us. My mother killed almost all of them quickly” My fists clench so tight it hurts. “The last one nearly got me, but my mother stepped in front. He burned to ash just after he stabbed her through the throat.”

“Oh. Not even a hex could come back from that kind of wound...”

“I know,” I say between gritted teeth. “I know that very well, Snow.” I delicately place the glass down with a strained hand. “I...I tried to stop the bleeding but there was nothing I could do. I had no magic then. Even so, I doubt my powers could’ve helped.” A little flame pops up in my hand with barely a thought. Making fire is more natural than breathing for me, after all. I watch the scarlet snake dance between my fingers. “My family’s abilities have always been better at destruction.”

Simon takes another long sip, polishing off his drink. “I don’t know what my family’s like, but I hope they’re not like me. This power...it’s too much for anyone to have. I’d give it up in a heartbeat.”

“We all would, Snow. That’s what the humans don’t get. Most hexes are just as scared of themselves as humans are.” I pour my third drink. It’s been awhile since I’ve drank so much in one sitting, but if I’m going to get sozzled, tonight is a good time. “But that’s not up to us. We’re born like this. Nothing we can do but try to survive.”

“Believe me, I know that. All I’ve ever done is survive. In the orphanage, on the streets, here in America.” He lets out a small, sad laugh. “Hexation is how I ended up on the street, actually.” Snow looks directly down at the table. “When I was 11, I, uh, had a dream that I was exploding. When I woke up, the entire orphanage had been blown to pieces. Luckily no one was hurt, but the matron couldn’t very well keep a hex among other children.”

“So she thought sending you to roam among other humans was safer?”

He shrugs. “I don’t think she cared as long as I was far away from her.”

I scoff, swinging the glass between two fingers. “Sounds about usual for humans. What made you manifest? A particularly bad paddling from the matron?”

Snow chews on his bottom lip. His fingers drum the wood slowly. “I, uh, actually didn’t have to suffer. I’m one of those rare cases of sudden manifestation, apparently. That’s what Penny called it anyway. She said it was rare but possible.”

My grip on the glass gets even tighter. A sudden jealous rage consumes my mind. So Snow just exploded one day at eleven. That’s awful, of course, I’ll never deny that. But all I can think of is the coffin. The endless night of being trapped in that box, waiting for a relief that wouldn’t come, until I finally broke and became the last thing I ever wanted to be. I went through absolute hell. Of course I assumed Snow had to, like all other male hexes. But he didn’t. He’s never had the acute kind of torture I did. It’s not fair.

“Excuse me,” I say more harshly than I mean to, “I’m tired. I think I’ll turn in.”

Snow’s pretty plain eyes go wide. “O-Oh...okay. Good night, then.”

“Night.” I snatch the bottle up and leave the key for his room. Then I stomp up the stairs with irrational anger still burning me up. I know it’s stupid, but I can’t get past it. Male hexes get their magic through suffering. It’s a well known fact. How could Snow be like me without the same kind of pain? How could he ever fully understand me the way I thought he could?

The second my room door is closed, I drink down the last of the whiskey bottle. I’ve tried to avoid alcohol over the past few years. It would be far too easy for me to drink away the pain, the memories, the horrible guilt. Eventually, I’d drown myself in a bottle. That’s not a way I want to go. But one night of indulgence will be fine.

I wobble towards my bed, shedding my outer layers as I go. I collapse face first onto the old mattress. Whiskey clouds my mind. And when I finally pass out, all I see is empty darkness. I’m not sure if that’s better or worse than the nightmares.

———————————————

“...safe?”

“Out cold...”

The voices stay patchy as I slip in and out of consciousness. I try to force my eyes fully open, but the pounding in my head is too much. Indistinguishable figures move on the edges of my blurry vision. There’s little to no light. It must still be night, maybe only a couple hours since I passed out.

“Is..right thing?”

“Hex...Rook and Pargeter...dangerous...we...safe.”

“Fine.”

Something grabs both my wrists and my ankles. I try to struggle but I must still be too drunk. I can’t get my limbs to move save for some squirming. I try to summon my magic, but my mind can’t concentrate. It’s no use. Bloody hell, I’m trapped.

“Night night, hex,” a horrible voice says. Something soft is pressed hard against my face. I can’t take in air, I can’t breathe, I can’t fucking breathe. It’s like the coffin. No, I can’t do this again. I try to thrash harder and scream but it’s still no use.

Oh Lord, I’m going to die here. I wonder if I’ll see my mother on the other side. I wonder if I even have a soul to go to the other side. And I wonder how if Snow is okay. Christ, my last conversation with him ended in anger. If I had known, I would’ve said everything I’ve wanted to say this past week. But the first thing would be ‘I’m sorry.’

I’m sorry, Snow, for everything I said and thought. And I’m sorry for leaving you alone.

“Hey! Get off him, you bastards!” That voice is familiar even in my half drunken state. Thank whatever gods are listening that he’s okay.

“It’s the other one!” one of my assailants shouts. “Wasn’t Garth supposed to take care of him?!”

“That damn idjit fucked up!”

I hear the telltale signs of punches and kicks thrown about. One of the hands on me pulls off. All this excitement has thankfully sobered me up some. I kick some stupid bastard right in the stomach.

“Fuck!” they wheeze. The other humans are wise and let go of my wrist. I’m on my feet in a second.

“Bloody humans,” I growl out, still slurring slightly. “You can’t even let me fucking sleep?!”

The burly barkeep scowls at me. My would be murder weapon is still in his hand. “Eat shit, you demon.”

I scowl right back at him. “Oh, you want a demon? I’ll give you a fucking demon, love.”

The fire blazes up in me, all shining black and scarlet, and I make little effort to contain it. I let the flames fly out and encase the man almost completely. He screeches as his skin bubbles and burns under my powers.

“Stop it!” a woman yells. She comes at me with a knife raised. A whip of fire forms in my hand instantly. With one crack, it wraps around her wrist. She screams in the exact same way and lets her weapon clatter on the floor. She goes to her knees, clutching her blackened, blistered skin.

“You bastard,” she cries. “How could you?!”

“How could I!?” Even more fire plays over my hands. “I could ask you the same thing, human.”

“We’re trying to protect ourselves, monster!”

In that moment, in her eyes, I see every human who’s hurt me. The people who mocked me, who killed my mother, who turned me into this. All sense leaves my mind in an instant. “I’m a monster only because of you!”

With one wave of my hand, she’s thrown against the wall hard enough to make it shake. I spin around to see a man trying to crack Snow’s skull open with a butcher’s cleaver. One well aimed blast sends him flying as well. Another casts two aside. They don’t move much afterwards, but I find myself caring little. Let them die like my mother did.

“Baz, stop it!” Snow shouts. I ignore him as I send the last assailant against the wall, listening to their screams as I burn their chest. “Baz!”

“Fuck off, Snow!” I roar. “I- Ack!”

Pain rips through my shoulder. I clutch it and my hand becomes wet with what I assume must be blood. I fall forward. My nose cracks against the floor. I scream in pain and flames roar out of me in a massive plume They hit everything, including my shooter and the walls of the room. I can feel the whole space burning around us.

“Baz!” Snow’s voice is beyond panicked. I hear his footsteps rush toward me. His hands hover over me but won’t touch. He can’t touch me.

“Get out, Simon,” I rasp , turning my head to the side to look at him. He’s covered in bruises and ash. Yet he’s still so beautiful. “Run before more of them come.”

“Shut up, arsehole! I haven’t turned my back on you yet, and I’m not going to start now!”

If the world weren’t literally on fire right now, I’d find that touching. I close my eyes. At least my dying image will be of him. “Don’t be an idiot, Snow.” Surprisingly, the bastard fucking laughs. My eyes snap open again. The bloody back of his hand is pressed against his mouth as he giggles. “What the fuck is funny about this?”

“You,” he laughs, “called me Simon before.”

My face heats up, and it’s not from the fire. “No I didn’t.”

“We’re fucking dying and you can’t admit you used my first name?”

“I’m dying. You’re being an idiot and not running away like you should!”

“You’re too stubborn to die, Baz, and we both know it.” He jumps to his feet. “Get up, we’re getting out of here.”

“Snow-”

“Or are you too much of a yellow belly to get up and try?”

Oh, this bastard. In only two weeks, he’s learned me too well. I scowl at his stupid pretty face as I push myself up on my good arm. At the same time, thundering footsteps can be heard from the stairwell.

“That route is out of the question,” I say. “Where are we to go, Snow?”

“This way.” He holds his hand and in a mere two seconds, the opposite wall is blown to pieces in a rain of spark. “Now let’s go!”

“We’re on the bloody second floor!”

Snow runs towards the gaping hole and throws himself out. I rush to the edge, blood pounding in my ear. No, Snow cannot die, I can’t let him die. But to my utter shock and awe, Snow is floating his way down to the ground. He stops and starts and still hits the ground in an uncoordinated roll, but he’s okay.

“Oh, Snow, you brilliant moron,” I whisper.

“They’re probably still in there!” someone shouts from the hallway. I take a few steps back, breathe deep, and run off the splintered edge just as the humans burst through the door.

Instead of sending my fire outwards like usual, I keep it within me. I will my body to rise high like flames from a candle. My legs move slowly like I’m running in the air. Fuck, this is actually working. Slowly, I let my flame flick and die down, lowering myself along with it. I reach the ground with my own thud but stay on my feet. Snow grins at me. In all this horror, that is the greatest thing to see.

“Let’s get the horses and get out of here, Snow.”

“Agreed, Pitch.”

We sprint to the stables and thankfully find our steeds unharmed. I count ourselves lucky that our attackers didn’t consider them demonic too. Mounting is difficult with my left arm fucked up, but let it never be said that a human bullet could stop Basilton Pitch. I hold the reins with one hand as I spur him into a dash.

The wind whistles in my ears. Snow and I run even faster than we did from the Red Weed. Our kind is always good at running. It’s our natural state.

———————————————

Snow and I ride until it’s nearly dawn. The sky turns purple then crimson with the rising sun in front of us. When I see orange, my horse finally starts to tire out. Snow’s does the same. We slow down then stop.

“Think we’re far enough away?” Snow asks, breath short and strained.

“Yeah,” I reply, sounding the same. “I think they would’ve caught us by now if they were still after us.”

“Good point, good point.” Snow leans forward, putting his forehead on his horse’s neck. “God, I’m fucking knackered. I barely slept.”

“Me too. We should both sleep.”

“What if someone comes after us?”

“Point. Sleep in shifts?”

Snow nods. “Yeah, that sounds good.”

“Good.” I slowly dismount my horse, but get my footing wrong and start to fall. I grab the reins with my left arm and practically scream in pain.

“Baz!” Snow rushes towards me, but stops when I raise my good arm.

“Don’t...” I pant, “don’t come any closer. I’m injured, Snow, and my self control is severely weakened. So unless you wish for death now after just barely escaping it, back away.”

“Oh, yeah, right...” Snow backs far away just as he should, but my heart still aches. “What are we going to do about your shoulder?”

“I can fix it, but I’m going to need your belt”

Snow’s brows shot upwards. “My belt? What for?”

“Just throw it to me, Snow, for Christ’s sake.”

Thank God he doesn’t ask another stupid question. He just unbuckles the belt and does what I ask. I try to not let my hands shake as I fold the belt in half. The last time I did this was three years ago, when I sat in a London alleyway after a drunkard broke my leg, a mere four days after fleeing my home for good.

“Baz, what are you-”

“Snow,” I say firmly, “I need you to do me a favour.”

“Okay...?”

I sit on the ground, belt held tightly in my hand. “I need you to stay right there no matter what. Don’t move, don’t try to help. The best way you can help is to stay fucking still.”

“What the fuck is-”

“Promise me you won’t move, Simon.” I look him right in his blue eyes, my mouth a thin, serious line. “Promise me.”

Snow gives me a once over, then thankfully nods. “Okay, I promise.”

“Good.” I put the belt between my teeth. When I check on Snow, he looks beyond panicked. “If it makes it easier,” I say clumsily between the leather, “you don’t have to watch.”

“Baz-”

I slap my right hand over my left shoulder, and it feels like I’m burning from the inside out. My magic scorches my body as it wraps around my injury. The buck shot is pulled through my muscles and skin, ripping and tearing as they go, and I can feel every bit of it. I can also feel as my tissue and bone stretches to knit back together piece by agonizing piece. It’s an indescribable kind of pain. It’s what I imagine hell must feel like. I scream, I can’t help it, but luckily the belt is muffling as well preventing me from biting off a chunk of my tongue. Snow gasps in horror but he doesn’t move. He keeps his promises. I knew he would. He’s a far better man than me.

The burning fades as the skin finally seals shut. I cautiously move my hand, shaking off the shrapnel and gooey viscera that trails between my fingers. God, it's a nasty scab, mangled and uneven and horrifically inflamed. I can only hope the scar won’t be too bad. The one on my calf has faded overtime.

“Are you-”

“Not yet,” I say, cutting off a frightened looking Simon. “This one won’t take as long though.”

I touch my nose, feeling for where the breaks are. I squeeze my eyes shut, and with a horribly painful crack, I move it mostly back into place. I let out a short yell, but just pant and seethe as the bone and cartilage knit back together. I try to wipe the bloody snot from my hand but it's no use. Disgusting, but better than a broken nose. I feel around to make sure things are okay. Well, the tip is a bit crooked, but I can live with that. Right now, I’m thankful to be alive at all.

“Okay,” I sigh, finally taking the teeth mark covered belt out of my mouth, “now I’m done.”

“What the fuck was that?” Snow’s voice is somewhere between fascination and absolute horror. In short, a proper reaction.

“Something my aunt taught me. Hexes are essentially manipulators of energy and matter. And what are bodies but living energy and matter? With practice, you can fix any part of yourself.”

“But isn’t it painful?”

“Was that not obvious?” I snap. But Snow’s genuinely worried face softens my demeanor. “Yes, it’s excruciating. Hence why I try not to use the technique as much as I can.” I massage my still aching shoulder. “Today it was unavoidable, unfortunately.”

Simon runs a nervous hand through his dirty hair. “Fuck...”

I cough out a small laugh. “Yes, that sums it up pretty well.”

He laughs too, just as shaky and sad. “Sums up the whole night.”

The two of us keep chuckling softly in the wee hours of the morning. The ascending sun hurts my tired eyes. Using so much magic has taken everything out of me. I let out a long, deep yawn.

“You sleep first,” Snow says. “I’ll keep watch.”

“No, no, I can-”

“Baz.” He sounds firm, but also tired, and maybe even a little fond. I’m probably imagining that last one though. “Go to bed. I’ll wake you up in about eight hours.”

If I weren’t sleep deprived, magically drained, and recovering from grievous injuries, I would protest more. But Snow is damn lucky today. I simply sigh and stand up to get my cot from my saddlebags. I count our lucky stars we didn’t bring in too many of our supplies to the inn. Maybe God hasn’t completely abandoned us heathen monsters.

“I don’t have the energy to put up my shield,” I say, hoping my tone conveys enough.

“Okay,” Snow replies, “I’ll stay away, don’t worry. I keep my promises.”

My pulse flutters involuntarily. A smile creeps across my face no matter how hard I try to stop it. “I know you do, Simon.”

Snow gifts me one of his sunshine smiles. That’s the last thing I see before turning over and letting myself rest.

———————————————

Snow lets me sleep longer than eight hours. I’d be more mad if I wasn’t so exhausted. In return, I let him oversleep too. We’re both passed out by the time it’s dark again. Even hexes with all our inhumanity need to rest sometimes. Snow and I are lucky we get the chance this time.

In the morning, I reluctantly go to the next closest town. We did leave some of our things behind sadly, including most of our clothes. I’m damn well not going to keep roaming around the south of Texas in my bloody socks, and neither will Snow. I get us some new jackets, boots, and hats, ignoring the strange looks I get from the lily white shopkeeper. 

I grab us some more of that disgusting jerky too. If only good food could keep in these horrific conditions. When I reach the counter, the shopkeeper frowns at the things I lay out.

“You can pay for all this?” she asks. I scowl deeply. I’m too tired for this shit.

“Are people like me not allowed to have money here?” I snap.

“Ya can now, but in my experience, y’all darker folk are better at stealing my stock than paying.”

Bloody hell, I’m too tired for this racist shite. I slam two bills on the counter. “There. Hope I didn’t dirty these up too much for you.”

She glares at me hard. As she reaches for the money, I deliberately brush my finger on hers, and she yelps loudly. The edge of her index is red and inflamed. An undeniable burn mark, but far too small for anyone to believe it came from an evil, bloodthirsty hexslinger.

“Oh dear,” I say deadpan. “Your register must have gotten in the sun. Do be more careful.” I shovel the supplies in my bag as she looks at me wide eyed. “Have a nice day, ma’am.”

I can feel her scared eyes on my back as I leave. I get on my horse and ride out fast. No reason to stay in this shithole any longer. And I need to get back to Snow, where I belong.

———————————————

“Everything okay in town?” Snow asks.

I toss the bundle of clothes at him, along with a bag of jerky. “No one attacked me, if that’s what you mean. I didn’t get made for a hex. But I did get some flack for my skin tone.”

Snow’s face falls a bit. There’s something far too close to pity in his eyes. “Oh. I’m sorry-”

“Don’t, Snow. You’re in no place to apologize for some racist American bastards, it’s not your responsibility. Sorry from you means nothing.”

“But-”

“Would you accept an apology from me on behalf of all the rich men who have treated you like trash before?” Snow’s gaping mouth slowly closes. “Exactly. Now get those on. They’re slightly less dirty than our current garments.”

Snow nods and does what I say. I unbutton off my bloodstained shirt and wince as the tacky fabric peels off my skin. The scab has gotten a little better. That’s something I suppose. My eyes slowly move over to Snow without realising it. I steal a glimpse of his broad, bare back, golden like the rest of him. There are some jagged pink scars but they take nothing away how brightly he shines. I look away before I’m too tempted by what I can’t have.

“Much better,” Snow sighs as he slips on the new boots. “I’m surprised my feet haven’t been ripped to shreds yet.”

“Me too. I’m glad though, I didn’t want to do any more healing.”

“I don’t want you to either, fuck.” I hate how his concern makes me feel so good inside. “I’ll start setting up the fire. It’s going to get dark again soon.”

“By all means, Snow, do all the work. I won’t stop you.”

Snow snorts out a laugh, giving me a cheeky smile I can still see at this distance. Christ, I’m on fire, and for once it’s not from my magic. It’s so much better. I have to look away again before I do something ridiculous and deadly.

By the time the sun is down, Snow has made a wonderful small fire for the two of us. We both warm our hands from opposite sides. I don’t need to do it too much. My magic has almost fully replenished, for better or worse. And I’m so hungry that I actually enjoy the extremely salty bison jerky. Bloody hell, I’m turning into an American.

“Where are we going to go next?” Snow asks, mouth still full. “I’m guessing we should avoid any more towns.”

“Agreed. I don’t know about you, but I’d rather not jump out of another building.”

“We certainly agree there. Christ, I was worried I was going to die.”

“Me too, Snow, me too.” I nervously fiddle with the string on my cloth bag. The words are coming out, and I can’t stop them. “I’m sorry, Snow.”

His brow adorably furrows. “Sorry for what?”

“Sorry for the way I acted that night, before I went to bed. I was very rude to you and I deeply apologize.”

“Oh...okay. Thanks.” He looks down, rubbing the back of his neck. “I-I was confused. Did I do something bad?”

“No, Snow,” I sigh, “you did nothing wrong. It was all me being stupid.”

“Okay...”

I sigh again. God, I can’t dance around it anymore. I have to tell him. After putting up with me for this long, he deserves to know.

“I was angry and...somewhat jealous of you.”

His eyes get very big. “Jealous? Of me?!”

“Yes, in a way. Because...you didn’t have to go through the same kind of suffering I did when I manifested. Which isn’t fair, because you lived on the streets while I grew up in a bloody mansion. It’s just not the same suffering I had, and I was angry I had to go through it when you didn't. Which is absolutely ridiculous, and I’m sorry I pushed that on you.”

“If you don’t mind me asking...what happened?”

I stare at him for a long moment over the fire. He holds my gaze, eyes round with worry and care. It hurts me in the most exquisite way. “It’s not a pretty story, Snow.”

His mouth pulls into a sad, slight smile. “Weren’t you the one who said that all hexes live through hardship, and we have nothing to be ashamed of?”

I chuckle and shake my head. “Using my words against me, a tactic of a true devious hex.”

He shrugs, still wearing that little smile. “What can I say? I can live up to our reputation sometimes.” Snow’s face falls again. “So what happened?”

With a deep sigh, rubbing my forehead, I start the horrid tale.

“My family always knew there was a chance I could be a hex,” I say. “But since my aunt couldn’t sense any magic on me pre manifestation, we assumed that I wasn’t too powerful, and manifestation could be avoided if we were careful. So I lived in the aforementioned secluded mansion all my life and I was never allowed to leave the grounds. All my time was spent reading, doing school work, or learning about hexation from my aunt, just in case. Everything in my life revolved around my mere potential to be a hex. I could never do or see anything. I felt like a prisoner. And when I was 18, I had enough.

“One evening, I snuck out of my room and went into the nearby town. I just wanted to see what was outside my home. But I was a naive sheltered kid. Of course I got lost on my way there and went into an area I never should have. Someone had knocked me out cold, and next thing I knew, I was in a cramped, dark box.”

“A box? What do you mean a box?”

I clench my fists tight until the shaking stops, then slowly let go. “It was a coffin, Snow. I had been trapped inside a coffin.”

I can almost feel the way Snow’s stomach must drop out at those words. I know, mine did the same when I realised where I was that night. “W-Why?!”

“It was hard to hear him through said coffin, but I got the main idea. He came from some old witch hunter family but had never caught an actual hex, until me. He’d heard the stories about my mother and had been secretly spying on me for months. When I escaped, he took his chance to kidnap me.”

“So he took you just to taunt you from outside a coffin?”

“I wish that was all he did,” I grumble. “He told me that the coffin was a test. There was a chance the hexation had skipped me over. If I was a hex, being stuck in the coffin would make me manifest, then he could kill me in good conscience. If I wasn’t and didn’t manifest, well, as he put it; ‘there are always casualties in the war for righteousness, boy.’”

Snow’s jaw drops to the grassy ground. “So even if you were human, he would’ve killed you anyway?”

“Mhm, mad bastard.” 

“How long did he keep you there before you escaped? A few days?”

I take long, steady breaths, beating back the old fear that creeps up my throat like bile. I can almost still smell that unique rotten scent from the coffin. I’ll never forget it. I never can.

“Snow,” I say slowly, “I was in that coffin for six weeks.”

And I thought he looked horrified before. Snow drops his jerky bag, hands shaking. I want to grab them, hold them still, comfort him in whatever way I can. The urge is almost stronger than the Call.

“S-Six weeks?! How are you still alive?”

“Thank the witch hunter,” I grumble. “He drilled very small air holes in the lid, and gave me enough food and water to keep me alive but starving. I think, hex or not, he wanted me to suffer because I was my mother’s son. A hex’s child was just as guilty of sin in his eyes.” I rub the bridge of my nose. It aches with the pain of my past. “At the time, I had no idea how long I was in there. It was just one endless night of torture. I begged and pleaded with the hunter to let me go, but he only laughed and called me pathetic hex scum. After six weeks, well, he finally got what he wanted.”

“You manifested.”

“Almost as violently as you did.” I trace the lines of my hand, the skin rough from my fire. I remember my mother’s hands being the same. “The details are blurry, but I remember enough. It started as just a tingling in my gut, but soon it became a burn. And then it spread as quickly as a forest fire.”

“Is it always fire with you?” The corner of Snow’s lip quirks up. The bit of teasing lilt in his voice makes me feel a bit lighter. I can't help but smile back a little.

“Usually, yes. It's always run very strong in my family.” I bounce a flame between my fingers. The movement is strangely calming to me. “I quickly learned I was no different. Before I knew it, I let out a massive ring of fire in every direction. It blew the coffin apart, of course, and turned my captor into a charcoal husk.”

Snow scoffs, a surprisingly vicious expression on his face. “Better than he deserved.”

“Agreed. I have no idea what happened to his body. I left almost immediately, though I wasn’t fully conscious. Six weeks in the coffin had deprived me of most of my mental faculties. Luckily, he kept me not far from home, and I could wander back on pure muscle memory. But going home turned out to be a terrible idea.” I grab the small fire and snuff it out in one go. But my fist stays clenched. “My aunt had been staying there while everyone searched for me. The second I walked through the front door, I could easily smell her. She was overjoyed to see me, until she smelled me too. And as I said, most of my mental faculties were gone.”

“So you attacked her on instinct.”

I chuckle sadly. “Quick study there, Snow. I didn’t even know what I was doing. I was just so bloody hungry all of sudden. I can’t even describe it.”

“You don't need to describe it to me, Baz.” He brings his knees under his chin. “I’ve felt hex hunger too. It’s...awful when you’re in the middle of it.”

“And when you’re not, you try to drown it out or distract yourself. But deep down, you know one day you’ll give up and listen. Then it will take over.”

Snow nods, looking at me in the eye. I’ve seen so much profound sadness in a person’s face. “And you’ll hurt someone, no matter how much you’ll regret it later.”

If I have a soul, it’s aching horribly. How could fate be so cruel as to give me Snow? So wonderfully brave and kind to a fault, and who actually understands what my life is like. The perfect man. And someday soon, he’s going to kill me. There’s no doubt I’ll be the one to die. I won’t kill him, not ever. I’d let him take everything from me before I’d kill him.

“Did you hurt your aunt?”

Thankfully, I can shake my head to that. “No, not at all. She was an experienced magic user, while I was a starving, half crazed newly minted hex. She took me down in seconds. When I woke up again, I was cleaned up and in my room. It took a second to regain my bearings, but I soon remembered what had happened...what I had become. There wasn’t any debate in my mind. Within an hour, I had packed my most practical clothes along with any small valuables I could pawn. Then I ran away and never looked back.”

“Which is how you ended up in America.”

“What better way to protect my family from me than by putting an ocean between us? At first, I stayed in an empty little corner of the American frontier. I just wanted to live out my lonely hex existence as long as possible. I didn’t expect the Call or this looming hex war.”

“No one did,” Simon sighs. “Hexes working together has never been possible before. Who could’ve imagined some American preacher would team up with an Aztec goddess to do just that?”

“Fair point. But now he’s made our existences much harder in a way. Look what those humans tried to do to us at the inn. They were even more scared because of Rook”

“Yeah...”

I groan, pushing my face into my hands, rubbing it up and down. “I never asked to be like this. I tried my hardest to avoid being like this. Then that choice was ripped away from me by some madman. Now I’m trapped between murderous humans or a bloodthirsty witch goddess. Why am I here? Why do I have to be here?!”

“Baz-”

“I don’t want this,” I choke out through my building sobs. “I want to see my family again. I just want to go home!”

I breathe hard and fast, holding back tears with all my strength. No, I refuse to cry. I swore to never cry again after the coffin, because I wasn't sure I could survive falling apart again. Yet here I am. I thought I had shed every tear I have there. I’m so pathetic.

“It’s okay,” Simon says. His voice is far louder than before. “Whatever you’re feeling is okay. It’s...it’s okay if you’re not.”

Slowly, cautiously, I lower my hands, blinking away the tears that had collected. I inhale sharply. Snow is less than two feet away from me. I can count the moles on his face, see the golden highlights in his bronze. But worse, his unbelievably delicious scent fills every cavity of my nose.

“You really shouldn’t sit so close, Snow,” I whisper. My eyes fall down and become completely fixed on Simon’s plush lips.

“I know,” he says under his breath, “but I don’t care.”

He touches my hand, and I feel his magic run through me. That explosive sensation pulses through my veins so hard it almost makes me gasp. The instinctual part of my brain goes fucking mad. It wants me to grab his throat and drain every drop of his magic, his essence, his very soul. My breathing gets shallow and laboured.

“Simon...” I say.

And then he kisses me.

It’s cautious and shy. His lips barely brush against mine, but I feel it everywhere else, especially in the way our powers rise to meet each other. The magic collides, but doesn’t clash. They meld and twist together at our points of contact, desperately needing to connect.

Snow opens his mouth, turning the kiss into one of pure heat and hunger. I gladly do the same. He grabs either side of my face and shoves his tongue down my throat. I grip his collar and push back against him. My entire body is filled with endless energy. I’m a star going supernova. And I want to explode with Simon. My nails scratch viciously across his neck. He clenches his fist in my hair, pressing our faces closer. I shudder as Simon bites hard on my bottom lip. I’m wrapped in cold heat, wrapped up in him. I feel so alive. It feels so right. But it’s wrong.

With all the strength I have, I shove Snow off me. We both fall back on the ground, breaking our closed circuit of feeding on each other simultaneously. Simon scrambles further away panting. I’m similarly out of breath. Both our lips trail white smoke, like they’ve been singed by ice. My magic readjusts after being sucked away and added to all at the same time. A bit of Snow’s explosive energy still sits in me, swirling around like a miniature star. We just stare at each other wide eyed for a long time.

“Shit,” Simon whispers.

I sigh heavily, running a shaky hand through my hair. “Well said.”

“We nearly killed each other.”

“Mages don’t meddle, Snow. We both know that.”

Simon groans, clutching his hair in his fists. “I know, I know. I almost killed Penny last time and I swore it would never happen again. But look at me now. Of course I fuck up.” I can see tears forming under his eyes. “What’s the point of being an all powerful hex if it means being alone forever?! I can blow up a building with my mind but I can’t even bloody kiss you! It’s not fair!”

I pick at my shirt sleeve with shaking fingers. “Maybe God is punishing us.”

“We didn’t ask to be like this, Baz!”

“That doesn’t change what we are, Simon! We’re freaks of nature, cannibalistic monsters!” I nearly rip through the fabric of my shirt. I'm so angry and so fucking tired. “Maybe we truly are devil spawn or something, like all the humans say. Maybe they’re right to be scared of all of us...”

I turn away from him, just staring at the fire. The sting of the smoke keeps me from sinking too low into my self loathing. Snow moves in my peripheral. We sit side by side. My skin prickles as he hovers his hand over mine. It takes every bit of my will to not try and drain him again.

“There’s somewhere we can go where we aren’t 'Devil spawn,'” he says.

I tense up. “Simon, that’s risky. It could all be a farce.”

“I don’t care if you think it’s just a farce, Baz! It’s still a chance. For you and me, for us.” He lightly brushes one of my fingers. I have to rip my hand away before I hurt him again. His pretty eyes are filled with pain. “See? Wouldn’t you like to stop doing that? Isn’t it worth the risk?”

I’ve been running for most of my life. I ran from my mother's legacy for as long as I could. I ran from my family when I feared my own hunger. And I could run now, from Simon and the fear of killing him. But I’d also be abandoning the chance for some sort of happy life. It may not be perfect, but it would be far more than my ancestors ever had before. Can I sacrifice that for fear?

“I’m tired, Snow,” I say weakly. “We should both get some rest.”

“But Baz-”

“Let me sleep on it, alright? Please?”

Snow takes in a deep breath, and lets out a long sigh. “We’ll talk in the morning.”

“Okay.”

“Okay.”

I want to kiss him so badly right now. Just grab his gorgeous, sunshine face and kiss him goodnight. Since I can’t, I smile as genuinely as I can at him. It’s not easy for me, but I mean it with him. “Goodnight, Simon.”

Snow stares at me for a long moment. But slowly, a smile creeps across his face too. The fondness threatens to melt me, “Goodnight, Baz.”

We keep our eyes locked for as long as we can. When I finally lay down, putting my crackling shield around me, the image of Snow’s wonderful face relaxes me into sleep.

———————————————

I bang my fists against the wood over and over, ignoring my already numerous splinters.

“Help!” I yell. “Someone help me! Please, get me out of here!”

All my pleas fall on deaf ears, as usual. No matter what I do, no matter how loud I scream. I’m stuck in this damned coffin. I scratch at it until my fingernails tear from their beds. Blood drips into my mouth, leaving an iron taste in the back of my scream sore throat.

“I’m not a fucking hex! I just want to go home!” I sob so hard I nearly choke on my own breath. “Just let me go home.”

My aching arms finally fall. I curl in on myself as much as I can within my confines. I close my eyes, but there’s little to no difference in the endless pitch black. Tears run hot down my face. They leave small trails in the dirt that’s accumulated over...however long I’ve been here. I don’t know anymore. Time is meaningless where there’s no sunrise or sunset. Life is meaningless in here.

“Baz?”

His voice is far away, but it still rings clear. My eyes slide open. “Simon?”

“Oh lord. Hang on, Baz! I'll get you out!”

I can only hear as Snow desperately tugs at the coffin lid. It should be impossible, the thing is nailed shut, but somehow Snow rips it open. The light is dim yet still hurts my eyes. I can't help but hiss at the pain.

“It’s okay, Baz,” he says in that unbelievably soft tone.

His hand reaches to me through the blinding light. Slowly, I reach back. And when I hold it, I know I’m supposed to be in pain, but I’m not. Instead, I’m just calm, happy, safe. Snow slowly pulls me out. His arms snake around my back, holding me up. He looks me over, taking in my decrepit, decayed state from ages in that damn box. And miraculously, he smiles. Even like this, he looks at me with such care.

“You’re alright now, Baz. I’m here.” He cups my face. “I’m here for you.”

Emotions clog up my throat and tears run down my cheek, but this time they’re for a good reason. I put my own shaking hand on his golden face. He’s so warm. “Yes, you are. And I’m here for you too, Simon.”

He’s still grinning as I lean forward, pressing my lips to his. But this time there’s no fear I’ll kill him. There’s just the utter joy of being with the one who understands me best, the one I want the most.

Oh, how I want this.

———————————————

I blink awake slowly. The morning sun is just rising over the horizon, turning the grassy landscape violet. I sit up and see the now familiar body on the other side of the fire. Snow sleeps in a knot, arms and legs pulled in. The furrow in his brow says he’s in the middle of a nightmare too. Though mine wasn’t one by the end. Not when he was there.

My mind is made up.

Once again, I’m packing my things lowly, waiting for Snow to wake. Luckily, he stirs while I’m only halfway through tying up the cot. He rubs the sleep from his eyes in such a terribly adorable way.

“Morning,” I say.

“Morning,” he yawns. “Are we going now? Or...are you?”

My heart seizes, but only for a moment. He’s right to be concerned. The fact that we’ve travelled together for two weeks without killing each other is a miracle among hexes. After last night’s close call, a sensible man would leave and never return. I was once a sensible human man. But I’m a deranged, bloodthirsty hex now. Why not act like one?

“You should get up and start packing, Snow. If we’re going to make it to the Mexican border before nightfall, we’ll have to ride fast.”

His eyes go rounder than a full moon. “You mean...”

I pull the pack tie tight. “We’re going to Hex City.”

“What changed your mind?

I sigh heavily, then walk over to him. I stay at a safe distance of course but Snow’s magic pulls me to him, my body begging me to take it. Instead, I simply hold out my hand to him. Snow stares for a moment but does catch on. He offers his own to me. Once again, our magics reach out to each other, wisps of fire and lightning twining together. It sends a faint whisper of that explosive adrenaline through my veins. So incredible and so wrong.

I snap my hand away, fists clenched hard. “Because of that. If I were a more selfless person, I would simply leave, but unfortunately I’m not. Are you?” Snow looks me over. His eyes pierce me in a way no one’s ever has before. He slowly shakes his head. “Exactly. I may be scared of Rook and his goddess, but I’m more scared of hurting you. There’s only one place where I won't.”

“Hex City.” He chews on the corner of his bottom lip. “What if you’re right though, and Rook’s price is too high?” 

“Then at least we’ll pay it knowing we tried to have a real life, instead of running like we’ve always had to.” I stand straight with my head held high. No matter the fear, I’m sure of this. “I think we’ve both suffered long enough, Simon.”

The way Snow’s face relaxes means the world to me. I love seeing that, seeing what he looks like without the heavy burden of hexation on his shoulders. Maybe I’ll be able to see that more in Hex City.

“It’ll probably be nice there,” he says. “I mean, a city made for hexes by hexes is going to be weird, but I bet it’ll look amazing in it’s own way.”

I chuckle and nod. “Agreed. Buildings and roads made by magic will certainly be interesting.”

“Penny would probably want to study them.” He sighs, but there’s a lightness to. “Maybe Penny will come one day, and I could see her again.”

“Maybe. I would love to meet her. I might be able to see my aunt again one day, too. I could introduce you to her.”

He beams so bright at me I fear I’ll get sunburnt. “I’d like that a lot.”

“Me too, Snow. So let’s get going.”

We finish packing very quickly. Snow gets on his horse as clumsy as he usually does. I snort at the way his American cowboy hat nearly falls off his head. The death glare he gives me has little impact, what with the way he’s grinning. He hasn’t stopped grinning almost since he woke up. I can’t blame him. I have trouble controlling my smile either.

“Ready?” he asks. As if he even has to. I’ve made my choice, and I’m sticking to it.

“Ready,” I say. “Let’s go.”

Snow and I both send our horses into gallops. We soar across the grassy plain, the Texas sun illuminating our way. The impending hex war still looms over us. But I will fight until my last breath to keep any happiness Simon and I can find.

I can almost see our future. Soon, we’ll reach the terrifying and wonderful Hex City. Rook will ask for his price, and we’ll pay, because it’ll mean a freedom we've never known before. We’ll be able to hold hands, kiss whenever we want, sleep in the same bed, simply be around each other with no fear of our hexacious hunger. It’s more than I could have ever dreamed of even a few months ago.

For once, I’m going to run towards something good, instead of away from the darkness inside me. I cannot wait.

———————————————

AN: And that's all folks! I hope people enjoyed that, even if y'all have never read Hexslinger. If you wanna read the books, I highly recommend them, tho be warned they require trigger warnings for all the stuff here and more. Almost anything that usually needs a trigger warning is in those books. I'm okay with reading it, but I also completely understand others not liking that shit.

In the positives, it's an extremely interesting and complex series dealing with survival, discrimination, identity, the pain that can come with love, and the unlikely bonds formed between people. The world building is amazing and the magic system is super cool. What I love the most are the characters, who are all very interesting and complex. No one is 100% good or evil, they're just people trying to find ways to achieve their goals or simply live. What actions they take are up for moral debate, but a lot of the time they're at least understandable. There's a lot of period typical bigotry, and it's much more vicious than what I wrote here, but what I love is that there a lot of diverse characters who say "fuck that" and fight back against the shit they get. You've got queer, Indigenous, black, latinx, Chinese, and Jewish main characters in a wild west story who are all well rounded and interesting. That's pretty awesome imo.

Okay enough gushing about Hexslinger lol. Hope this story was good. No guarantee when my next fic will be out. Work and school are killer. Until then, see you later!

[disneyat34]

The Three Caballeros at 34

A review by Adam D. Jaspering

Mickey Mouse is, and always has been, the face of the Walt Disney Corporation. Perhaps it’s because of legacy or favoritism, because Donald Duck has often proven himself more popular. To expand on a quote from Walt Disney, it all started with a mouse, but a duck pays the bills. Never was this more apparent than in the 1940s.

As morbid as it seems, World War II was a great boon to Donald Duck’s popularity. Mickey Mouse represented an unflappable, upbeat everyman. He became popular during the Great Depression when people needed their morale lifted. Donald Duck was an angry fighter who got knocked down, and stood right back up, fists swinging. That sensibility was celebrated by many during the war. Seeing the influence he had, Walt Disney capitalized on his creation.

Donald was commissioned by many sources during World War II. The US Treasury, the United Way, and the Canadian Film Board all commissioned cartoons from Disney Studios. His likeness was merchandised in countless other places. Within months, Donald Duck was promoting war bonds and celebrating American resilience coast to coast.

Later, Donald joined the US Army, encouraging enlistment. As an act of patriotism, Disney produced seven of these shorts at cost for the armed forces. Why he opted for Donald to join the Army as opposed to the Navy, as is often suggested by his sailor outfit, is a mystery. Donald wasn’t the official face of the war effort, but not for lack of trying.

In 1944, three separate events lined up. First, World War II was still ongoing.  Second, Disney Studios was celebrating Donald’s tenth anniversary. Third, the follow-up to Saludos Amigos was nearing completion. It was time for another cinematic saga of comradery in the western hemisphere, this time featuring Donald Duck front and center.

Saludos Amigos was a rush job. Disney Studios churned it out for immediate financial returns. The writers and animators had unused ideas leftover. Some ideas were more dynamic and required money and time, not available in 1941. Now with a foot-hold on the Latin American film market, the studio was able to make a proper follow-up. That was The Three Caballeros.

The Three Caballeros uses the 10th anniversary of Donald Duck’s creation as a framing device. Throughout the film, Donald opens a multitude of gifts from friends and well-wishers. Each gift prompts or frames a new vignette. Like Saludos Amigos, the vignettes of The Three Caballeros were created to foster international goodwill between Latin America and the United States.

The first gift is a projector and film canister. The movie is The Cold-Blooded Penguin. It features a penguin named Pablo who dislikes living in Antarctica. Pablo hates the cold, and wishes to live in a tropical climate. One day, he pools his resources, and sets out on an ice floe for warmer weather.

Astute readers will notice the error immediately. What on Earth is a cartoon about a penguin doing in a film about Latin America?

It’s true, Pablo’s journey takes him around some of the coastal geographic features of South America’s west coast. These aren’t so much landmarks as name drops. We hear the narrator mention the Straits of Magellan, Cape Horn, Juan Fernandez Islands, Vina Del Mar, Lima, and the Galapagos Islands. But what’s depicted onscreen are rather nondescript landforms. These could be any straits, any coasts, and any islands.

The Cold-Blooded Penguin’s ties to South America are incredibly tenuous. Plainly, it does not belong as part of the film. So much so, it’s not even worth commenting on the animation or story. You could make the greatest rotisserie chicken in culinary history, but if you serve it atop an ice cream sundae, no one will care how the chicken tastes. 

The short shamelessly tries to mask itself as an extended cutaway from a larger feature called “Aves Raras,” or “Rare Birds.” The non-penguin half of this short does indeed focus on the indigenous fauna of South America. Somewhat farcically, but also with an informative nugget. This infotainment is what The Three Caballeros aspires to be, and achieves in certain quantities. 

Unfortunately, the filmmakers either get lazy or distracted. Strewn among the cultural aspects are nonsense and unsupportive jokes. Either the filmmakers were padding the film or afraid of losing the attention of a younger audience. The end result bogs down quality with unnecessary jetsam.

The highlight of the Rare Birds segment is the Aracuan Bird. This bird has a high-pitched, sped-up voice, and a warbled laugh. He has a screwball sense of humor, and an innate ability to antagonize all those who he comes into contact with. He has a bright red crest, a yellow beak, and oversized eyes. He debuted four years after another cartoon bird with alarmingly similar characteristics: Woody Woodpecker.

Woody Woodpecker first appeared in the 1940 short Knock Knock. Walter Lantz created the character, and licensed him to Universal Studios. The similarities between The Aracuan Bird and Woody cannot be ignored. I can find no information explaining this coincidence. There were no complaints filed, and no legal action by Lantz or Universal. It’s rather unlikely Disney’s animators resorted to plagiarism; we can only assume it was an unintentional, subconscious reproduction.

The Aracuan Bird appears here, and in two more brief scenes. He then disappears for the remainder of the film. One would think he would be a running gag, appearing regularly throughout the movie. Or at the very least, he would be a main feature in his own vignette, his other appearances being callbacks. He would certainly be more on-theme than The Cold-Blooded Penguin. 

The Aracuan Bird is an unpleasant reminder that The Three Caballeros was a pile of ideas leftover from Saludos Amigos. He is introduced, then subsequently forgotten. The movie was the production of different animators and writers, working independently. They each had their own ideas, and didn’t seek consultation. These ideas are threaded together as best as possible, but big gaps in style and substance exist.

The next vignette is The Flying Gauchito, set in the pampas of Uruguay. It is the story of a child, looking for the approval of the gauchos of his village. The boy goes on a hunting expedition, finding the rarest game of all: a winged donkey. 

The donkey is named ‘Burrito,’ the Spanish word ‘Little Donkey’ (which existed long before the popular Tex-Mex dish). Gauchito returns home with his newly acquired winged steed. Rather than show him off, Burrito is entered in a horse race. It’s one thing to show-off your luck. It’s another thing to demonstrate your worth.

What makes The Flying Gauchito special isn’t its story. Will and determination overcoming the established norms is a common moral. The true strength of the short is its utilization of an unreliable narrator. Gauchito’s journey is narrated by his older self, narrating from an omniscient standpoint in the future. It would be easy for him to tell the story accurately. Instead, he’s forgetful, indecisive, and admittedly unsure of specific details. 

This narrative style creates not only a humorous structure, but humorous accompanying animation. Whenever a detail is “corrected” or second-guessed, the corresponding imagery is swapped out. In quick succession, the characters onscreen are left helpless as their world is ad hoc corrected. They must endure a shifting landscape and environment before they can react accordingly. This gives them a sense of instability, like they’re wearing roller skates, or walking a tightrope. It’s an advanced narrative technique, and it’s executed well.

With two and a half shorts finished, Donald Duck moves onto his next present. Inside is his friend and Saludos Amigos costar Jose Carioca. Jose is just as jovial and passionate as ever, but now smoking a giant cigar shamelessly for all children to see. We’re a long way from the warnings of Pleasure Island.

Jose introduces Donald to the Brazilian city of Baia. In a combined mood of nostalgia and admiration, Jose begins a long musical serenade. As his memories and thoughts are manifest to reality, we are swept away in the romantic imagery. The pinks and purples of the city at sunset are wonderfully done.

The two avian friends find themselves at a celebration on the streets of Baia. They’re joined by singer and dancer Aurora Miranda, plus a small army of samba dancers. The interplay of cartoon and human is outdated by today’s standards, but to an audience in 1944, it must have seemed groundbreaking. The technique is used extensively throughout the remainder of The Three Caballeros, and to great effect. It’s a gimmick, but a gimmick employed and accomplished well.

Exiting the glory of Baia, Donald opens his next gift from a stranger in Mexico. The unfamiliarity is temporary. Inside the gift is the loud, ecstatic, pistol-packing Panchito Pistoles. This firebrand is so eager to meet both Donald and Jose, he declares the trio “The Three Caballeros.” Finally, forty minutes into the picture, well past the halfway mark, we meet the last of our title characters.

After a fiery song and dance number, Panchito introduces Donald to the piñata. Panchito identifies it as a Mexican Christmas tradition (The Three Caballeros was scheduled for a December release date). Until this point, Panchito has been a quite vocal and boisterous individual. Hearing him tell a reverent and humble tale of Christmas tradition displays his hidden depths. Panchito could have been a shallow and one-note character. Instead, we see him capable of many things.

Cracking open the piñata, Donald is treated to a tour of Mexico’s most popular sights. Panchito summons a serape, which flies like Aladdin’s magic carpet. The Three Caballeros visit the exotic locales of  Pátzcuaro, Veracruz, and Acapulco. 

Until this point, both Donald and Jose were nothing more than enthusiastic partygoers. They enjoyed the celebrations and sights of their destinations. And they never shied away from the pleasant company of a gorgeous woman. For whatever reason, upon visiting Mexico, something stirs in the mind of Donald. 

Going forwards, every woman Donald encounters is an object of lustful desire. Singing girls, dancing girls, sunbathing girls; Donald wants them all. Jose and Panchito do their best to subtly remind Donald he is a cartoon duck in a G-Rated movie, but Donald is driven by his id. 

It’s a common cartoon trope for a character to be so blindsided by a woman’s physical attraction, they lose control. From the works of pre-Hays Code Betty Boop shorts, to the then-contemporary Tex Avery, it was a well-established joke. Donald, however, is completely insatiable and unstoppable. It starts funny, gets ridiculous, and then turns downright disturbing. Donald Duck is insatiably in love with these Latin beauties, and cannot be tamed. It’s a running gag that runs far too long. Panchito shouldn’t have shown Donald a hot beach, he should have shown him a cold shower.

The movie ends in quite an interesting way. Instead of a traditional song and dance number celebrating Mexico, the remaining twenty minutes of film is a surreal, avant garde display. More than ‘Toccata and Fugue’ from Fantasia. More than ‘Pink Elephants on Parade’ from Dumbo. Things are odd, formless, wild, and baffling. And lots of fun.

The Three Caballeros’s primary problem is how unbalanced it is. Any ten minute stretch is vastly different from any other. But it is unbalanced in a linear fashion. As the movie progresses, it becomes more cohesive and more audacious. Things are always building towards the (literally) explosive climax.

It begins with one short that doesn’t belong in the film at all. It moves onto a second short that, while more appropriate, could easily be excised. Jose is introduced, giving the movie more structure and narrative harmony. With him, more advanced animation techniques are employed. Panchito is introduced, giving the film a solid shape and definition. Finally, we’re treated to a grand tour de force. Disney’s animators use every trick to deliver a mindboggling trip for the eyes and ears.

The Three Caballeros as a group existed as Disney second-stringers for many years. Donald Duck remained as popular as ever, but it was rare to see Jose or Panchito acknowledged by the studio. Early in the 21st century, the cult popularity of the film prompted a resurgence for the forgone trio.

The Three Caballeros are featured at the Mexican Pavilion of Epcot Center (despite only one of the three members being Mexican). Don Rosa wrote two sequels for the trio, published in comic form. They’ve appeared in Disney television shows, such as House of Mouse, and 2017′s DuckTales. They even star in their own series on Disney+, where they become globetrotting fantasy heroes.

The Three Caballeros expands on the ideas of its predecessor, Saludos Amigos. A multitude of animation techniques continues the celebration of harmony in the Americas. Music, laughter, and a love of exploration unite us all. While the end result is something of a mixed bag, the highs are demonstrably high. It will stimulate some viewers while outright confounding others. But in the end, the wild, surreal adventure is a voyage worth taking. Hasta luego.

Fantasia Snow White and the Seven Dwarfs Pinocchio Bambi The Three Caballeros Dumbo Saludos Amigos

[bridgingdimensions]

An Assembled History of the United States 

The following contains a timeline of the history of the United States within my dimension. Information sourced from Gravity Falls Library, very roughly summarized.

1400s and prior - Various tribes and cultures lived on this land, but unfortunately written histories of these times are difficult to find. The earliest information found within the library was spare mentions of local history of the Klamath Tribes. 

1492 - Christopher Columbus sailed with three ships, one of which crashed in the shores of America and sank with the only 1 documented injury to himself and no fatalities.

1493 - Columbus sailed again to the American colonies with several ships and a large crew, again the ship Columbus was on sank with him on it and this time reportedly took several hours for him to reach the shore.

1494 - The Treaty of Tordesillas attempted to ratify and establish ownership of the lands for Spain and Portugal. It was not successful. 

1496 - John Cabot sails to explore the western hemisphere under authority of King Henry VII of England. signs an agreement for the western hemisphere to be explored under England and makes a second voyage the following year.

1498 - Columbus goes on his third voyage, a select crew willing to stay on the specific ship Columbus was on at the time. During lunch, the crew accidentally stranded him on one of the islands, remembering to turn back after five days. 

Cabot embarked on another voyage and mysteriously never returned.

1502 - Columbus on his fourth voyage sails to Central America where his boat gradually disintegrated and he kicked his crew off, he was last sighted on a wooden raft that was overtaken by a wave.

1507 - A world map is made by Martin Waldseemuller, but is never seen, reportedly lost due to ‘his dog eating it.’

1508 - First European colony settlement on United States territory was founded at Caparra, Puerto Rico by Ponce de Leon.

1511 - Catholic Church, Pope Julius II, establishes three dioceses with one in Puerto Rico and two in Hispaniola.

1512 - Ferdinand II of Aragon announces Burgos’ Laws to end exploitation of indigenous people in Hispaniola and Puerto Rico some time after the decimation of smallpox epidemics brought to the people of Hispaniola by Europeans.

1513 - Ponce De Leon looks for the Fountain of Youth. He then lies about finding it, quickly diverting attention by claiming land for Spain.

1524 - Giovanni da Verrazzano enters New York harbor during a French expedition, considered the first European exploration of the Atlantic seaboard in centuries.

1526 - Disagreement over Treaty of Tordesillas defused by marriage, more to follow.

1527 - The Narvaez expedition colonizes Spanish Florida under Panfilo De Narvaez.

1529 - The Treaty of Zaragosa makes a try at clarifying the Treaty of Tordesillas.

1539 - Hernando de Soto travels to Florida where they explore further inland.

Melchior Diaz searches for Lost Cities of Gold. He is unsuccessful and the job is shortly after given to Fernando Vasquez de Coronado, who is also unsuccessful and gets into the Tiguex War as well as burns down a city while continuing further on.

1542 - De Soto reaches his final destination, death.

1550 - The beginning of the forty year Chichimeca War between the Chichimecas Confederation and New Spain.

1551 - The Valladolid debate, discussing treatment and status of Indians in the New World.

1559 - Don Tristan de Lunda y Arellano established Spanish colony, Santa Maria de Ochuse.

Elizabeth I becomes Queen of England.

1562 - Charlesfort is established by Jean Ribault, but is later abandoned.

1564 - Rene de Laudonniere establishes French colony for the Hugeanots at Fort Caroline and befriends the Timucua.

1565 - Pedro Menendez de Aviles founds St. Augustine, the first permanent settlement of the US. Twelve days later his spanish soldiers attack the French colony at Fort Caroline and destroy the fort.

1570 - Abraham Ortelius publishes the first modern world atlas. Descendent of Waldseemuller claims the work was copied off of his ancestor’s lost map and attempts a rebranding scheme of the atlas under his name with minor changes which fails.

1579 - Francis Drake claims lands in California for Great Britain, names it New Albion. Completes circumnavigation of the globe.

1585 - Sir Walter Raleigh organizes expedition to settle Roanoke Island colony. The colony fails.

1587 - Raleigh attempts to colonize Roanoke Island again with governor John White. John White leaves and returns to an empty colony with the words ‘CROATOAN’ and ‘CRO’ left behind, carved. Raleigh doesn’t attempt the colony a third time.

1607 - Jamestown, the first English settlement in the United States is established by over 100 settlers.

1608 - Samuel de Champlain establishes first permanent colony of New France in Quebec City.

1614 - New France colony of Port Royal is destroyed by Samuel Argall and then abandoned.

1618 - Smallpox epidemic wipes out vast majority of Native Americans in Massachusetts Bay.

1619 - The House of Burgesses is elected in Jamestown.

Virginia Company of London establishes new colony at Berkeley Hundred, Virginia.

1620 - The Puritans establish settlement in Plymouth and form the Aprilflower Compact to establish government and laws.

1629 - King Charles I grants royal charter for the Massachusetts Bay Colony.

1630-1670 - Many colonies are founded and settled along with wars between colonists and native tribes. (The number of colonies and wars around this time period are their own lengthy history.)

1670 - Hudson’s Bay Company founded to combat New France in the Canadian fur trade.

1676 - Bacon’s Rebellion that resulted in the burning of Jamestown.

1677 - Treaty of Middle Plantation signed.

North Carolina colonists engage in Culpeper’s Rebellion.

1682 - France claims the lower Mississippi River valley.

1688 - King William’s War begins, lasts for 9 years.

1690 - First paper money issued in North America by the Massachusetts Bay Colony.

The first newspaper issue in the United States was published in Boston, and was then suppressed.

1692-1693 - The Salem witch hunts resulting in the death of nineteen and over a hundred arrests.

1695 - Captain William Kidd is sent on a mission to combat piracy, and goes on to become pirate of the high seas. (If you can’t beat them, join them, I suppose.)

1699 - Jamestown is abandoned.

1701 - New France signs the Great Peace of Montreal with 39 First Nations.

1702 - Royal Colony of New Jersey established by Queen Anne.

1704 - First newspaper that wasn’t immediately taken down publishes its first edition in Boston, started by John Campbell.

1711 - The Tuscarora War begins.

1716 - First theater in the colonies opens in Williamsburg, Virginia.

1763 - French and Indian War ends with peace treaty, the English getting Canada and the American midwest.

1764 - The Sugar Act, a duty is placed on various commodities in the British colonies. Less than a year later the Stamp Act is passed as well.

1765 - The Stamp Act is passed and later nine of the colonies had a Stamp Act Congress and adopted a Declaration of Rights against taxation without representation. 

1766 - The Stamp Act is repealed.

1767 - However, then the Townshend Acts are put in place.

1770 - The Boston Massacre, British troops fired into a Boston mob. 

The Townshend Acts were repealed on everything except tea. This would notably not turn out well.

1773 - The Boston Tea Party, caused by England allowing a single company to control the tea trade and the actual event being 342 chests of tea being pushed overboard into the harbor. 

1774 - British Parliament closes the port of Boston. 

The Intolerable Acts are established, the First Continental Congress is held to protest this.

1775 - British government declares Massachusetts in rebellion.

American Revolution is started after 8 minutemen are killed while resisting British were coming to destroy their arms (the guns).

George Washington is appointed commander-in-chief of the Continental Army.

1776 - Thomse Paine publishes ‘Common Sense & Sensibility.’

The Declaration of Independence is penned and approved.

Washington wins in the first Battle of Trenton.

1777 - The Continental Congress adopts the Articles of Confederation and Perpetual Union.

France signs treaties of alliance and commerce, getting involved in the revolutionary war.

Washington loses at Brandywine and others, marches with Continental Army into Valley Forge.

1778 - South Carolina is the first state to ratify the Articles of Confederation.

France signs the treaty of Amity and Commerce with the United States.

1779 - Benedict Arnold, American general, turns traitor and aids the British in acquiring control of the Hudson River. This was soon after Washington first accompanied Arnold on a drive where Washington made the comment to him while Arnold was driving the horse carriage ‘Okay, you’re safe to go,’ as the pedestrians Arnold had been waiting on had finished crossing the street. 

1780 - The British siege Charlseton, South Carolina.

Loyalist troops of Britain lose the Battle of Kings Mountain.

1782 - The Bank of North America, the Bank of New York, and the First Bank of the United States are the first to obtain shares on the New York Stock Exchange.

British troops start to leave the United States.

British Parliament recognizes U.S. independence and signs the Treaty of Paris.

1783 - Congress ratifies the early peace treaty, ending the Revolutionary War.

Massachusetts Supreme Court outlaws slavery.

The Continental Army is disbanded.

1785 - The Continental Navy is disbanded.

1787 - Shay’s Rebellion happens in Massachusetts, but fails. Daniel Shays upon being captured claims evil twin, Schmaniel Shays, was the true mastermind.

The Constitutional Convention adopts the Constitution.

1789 - Washington is elected as the first President of the United States. Frederick A. Muhlenberg becomes the first Speaker of the House of Representatives.

Supreme Court is created.

1790 - First patent of the United States is given to Samuel Hopkins for potash.

1791 - The Bill of Rights takes effect, all twelve amendments pass.

1792 - The United States Post Office Department is established.

Washington is reelected president of the United States with John Adams as his Vice President.

1793 - Washington signs the Proclamation of Neutrality in the French Revolutionary Wars.

1794 - Eli Whitney patents the cotton gin.

The Whiskey Rebellion is suppressed by militia.

Jay’s Treaty is signed.

1795 - The Treaty of Madrid is signed.

1796 - Tennessee joins the Union.

The United States State Department issues the first passport.

Washington gives his final address.

1797 - John Adams becomes President.

The Treaty of Tripoli is signed.

1798 - Congress voids all treaties with France.

The Alien and Sedition Acts go into law. 

1800 - The United States Library of Congress is founded.

Slavery ended in the Northwest Territory from the Ordinance of 1787.

1801 - Thomas Jefferson becomes President.

1803 - The Louisiana Purchase is made. 

1804 - The Sacagawea Expedition.

Thomas Jefferson is reelected.

1807 - Aaron Burr is arrested for treason in an attempt to annex parts of the United States into an independent republic. He represents himself as his own lawyer and is acquitted after the confusion in court of speaking about himself in the third person.

1808 - The Illinois Territory is created.

1809 - James Madison becomes president.

1811 - The battle of Tippecanoe is won by William Henry Harrison.

1812 - President Madison asks Congress to declare war on the UK.

Madison is reelected. 

1813 - The Battle of York. 

1814 - The White House is burned by the British during the War of 1812.

The Battle of Lake Champlain is won by the United States.

Peace treaty is signed, ending the War of 1812.

1817 - James Monroe becomes President.

The Rush-Bagot treaty is signed.

1819 - The Panic of 1819 leads to foreclosures, bank failures, and unemployment.

The Shortmadge Amendment is passed.

1820 - the Missouri Compromise bill passes Congress.

Colonel Robert Gibbon Johnson eats a tomato in public to prove it is not poisonous, and then nearly dies due to his undiagnosed tomato allergy.

Tomatoes outlawed in New Jersey for twenty seven years.

Monroe is reelected.

1823 - President Monroe declares the Monroe Doctrine.

1825 - John Quincy Adams becomes President.

Erie Canal is opened to usage.

1826 - Samuel Morey patents the “Gas or Vapor Engine.”

1827 - Slavery is legally abolished in New York.

1829 - Andrew Jackson becomes President.

William Austin Burt patents the typographer.

1830 - Congress approves the Indian Removal Act.

1831 - The first bank robbery in the United States.

1832 - The Black Hawk War.

The Trail of Tears begins.

1833 - The Force Bill is signed into law.

Jackson is reelected.

1836 - The Battle of the Alamo.

The Specie Act is issued.

1837 - Martin Van Buren becomes President.

The Panic of 1837 begins.

1840 - Antarctica is claimed for the United States.

1841 - William Henry Harrison becomes President, shortly after dies and is succeeded by John Tyler.

1843 - The Kingdom of Hawaii is recognized by European nations as an independent nation.

1844 - Samuel B. Morse sends the first telegraph message. His first words were, “Does this work?”

The United States signs the Treaty of Wanghia.

1845 - James K. Polk becomes President.

1846 - The Mexican-American War begins with a conflict north of the Rio Grande River.

California declares independence from Mexico. 

1848 - Gold is discovered in California by James W. Marshall who immediately claims he had misspoken and he had instead found coal.

The Treaty of Guadalupe Hidalgo ends Mexican-American War.

1850 - The Compromise of 1850 is introduced to Congress.

Millard Filmore becomes President after Zachary Taylor’s death.

1854 - The Kansas-Nebraska act becomes law.

1857 - James Buchanan becomes President.

The Dred Scott decision.

The first elevator is installed in New York City and gets stuck two days later.

1861 - The Confederated States of America is established.

Abraham Lincoln becomes President.

Fort Sumter is attacked by Confederate forces and starts the U.S. Civil War.

The first Battle of Bull Run.

1862 - The Battle of Shiloh.

The Homestead Act is approved.

Preliminary Emancipation Proclaim is issued.

The Battle of Fredericksburg begins.

1863 - The Battle of Gettysburg is won by the Union.

1865 - General Robert E. Lee signs the Confederate forces’ surrender at Appomattox Court House.

President Lincoln is assassinated at Ford’s theatre.

Thirteenth Amendment to abolish slavery takes effect.

1866 - The Civil Rights Act of 1866 passes Congress.

The Metric Act of 1866 passes Congress.

1867 - the Treaty of Cession of Russian America to the United States is signed, Alaska becomes part of the United States.

1868 - The Battle of Washita River ends.

1869 - Ulysses S. Grant becomes President.

The First Transcontinental Railroad is finished.

1870 - The Fifteenth Amendment is ratified.

The Confederacy is officially dissolved.

1871 - The Great Fire of Chicago.

1872 - Roche Jaune National Park is the world’s first national park established.

Susan B. Anthony illegally casts ballot to publicize women’s right to vote.

1875 - The Civil Rights Act is passed by Congress.

Alexander Graham Bell patents the telephone.

1877 - The Nez Perce War begins.

1880 - Construction of the Panama Canal begins.

1881 - James Garfield becomes President. He later dies and is succeeded by Chester Arthur.

1883 - The Pendleton Civil Service Reform Act is passed by Congress.

The Brooklyn Bridge opens.

1885 - Grover Cleveland becomes President.

The Statue of Liberty arrived in New York.

1886 - The Haymarket riot in Chicago.

The Interstate Commerce Act is passed by Congress.

1890 - The Battle of Wounded Knee.

1891 - Lucien and Paul Nunn transmit alternating current for the first time.

1892 - Cleveland returns to presidency.

1893 - New York Stock Exchange collapses resulting in the panic of 1893.

1895 - Plessy v. Ferguson decision by Supreme Court establishes approval of racial segregation.

1897 - The first United States underground public transportation opens in Boston.

1899 - The Open Door Policy with China is declared.

1900 - The Gold Standard Act is ratified.

Carrie Nation continues Temperance Movement to abolish liquor and riding horses, prompted by a dream of a horse rebellion.

1901 - The Platt amendment is passed by Congress.

William H. McKinley becomes President.

President McKinley is shot at the Pan-American Exposition and Theodore Roosevelt succeeds upon his death.

1903 - Wilvur and Orville Wright succeed in their first flight via airplane. 

1905 - President Roosevelt is elected for second term of Presidency.

1906 - The Pure food and Drug Act and the Meat Inspection Act passes.

1911 - The first transcontinental airline flight begins in New York.

Henry Ford patents the Automotive Transmission.

1913 - The Sixteenth and Seventeenth Amendments are ratified.

Woodrow Wilson becomes President.

1915 - The United States Coast Guard is established.

1916 - Wilson is reelected.

The United States Congress declares War on Germany, joining World War I.

1918 - President Wilson attends the Paris Peace Conference.

1919 - World War I ends with the Treaty of Versailles signed.

1920 - The Nineteenth Amendment is added to the constitution.

1923 - President Harding dies and is succeeded by Calvin Coolidge.

1925 - Charles Francis Jenkins presents radiovision.

The Scopes Trial.

1928 - Herbert Hoover elected President.

The Great Depression begins.

1930 - The London naval Reduction Treaty is signed.

The Smoot-Hawley Tariff Act is signed.

1933 - Franklin D. Roosevelt becomes President.

The New Deal program is passed by Congress.

The Twenty-First Amendment is passed.

1935 - The Social Security Act and the Historic Sites Act are signed into law.

1937 - The Hindenburg erupts in flames.

The Golden Gate Bridge opens.

1938 - The Naval Expansion Act passes.

The National Minimum Wage is signed.

The War of the Worlds, the radio drama, causes immense worry to say the least.

1939 - United States declares neutrality in World War II.

1941 - The Lend-Lease Act is approved.

United States occupies Iceland.

The Atlantic Charter is issued.

Pearl Harbor is attacked resulting in the United States entering World War II.

1942 - The Battle of the Midway.

Arthur Compton and Enrico Fermi oversee the first nuclear chain reaction in the Manhattan Project.

1944 - The Normandy Invasion.

1945 - President Roosevelt dies, Harry S. Truman succeeds upon his death.

Germany surrenders.

President Truman authorizes the atomic bombs dropped on Hiroshima and Nagasaki.

World War II ends.

1948 - President Truman signs Executive Order 9981.

1949 - NATO is formed.

United States withdraws troops from Korea.

1950 - The Korean War begins, shortly after President Truman orders Air Force and Navy to the country.

1951 - The AZUS Treaty is signed by the United States, Australia, and Zealand.

1953 - Dwight Eisenhower becomes President.

1954 - Brown v the Board of Education.

The Southeast Asia Treaty Organization is formed.

1955 - Rosa Parks refuses to give up her seat and prompts boycott that would lead to declaring bus segregation laws unconstitutional.

1957 - United States attempts to launch satellite, Vanguard, into space. Vanguard exploded on the launchpad.

1958 - The first U.S. space satellite, Explorer I, is launched. Due to an instrument on board that detected cosmic rays, they theorize what would come to be known as the Van Allen Belts which was confirmed by Explorer II.

1959 - Alaska and Hawaii become part of the United States.

1960 - The First weather satellite, Tiros I, is launched by the United States. It was one of NASA’s first attempts to use satellites to study Earth and aid international communications. 

Transit 1A was launched and failed to reach orbit. Transit 1B succeeded though and carried an infrared scanner and was the first navigation satellite.

1961 - John F. Kennedy becomes President.

The Bay of Pigs invasion of cuba.

Commander Alan Shepard Jr completes the first United States manned sub-orbital space flight inside a Mercury capsule.

Project Gemini begins.

1962 - Lt. Colonel John Glenn, the first United States astronaut in orbit aboard the Friendship 7 Mercury Capsule. He circled the earth three times and didn’t puke once.

The Cuban Missile Crisis begins.

1963 - The Civil Rights march on the United States’ capitol led by Dr. Martin Luther King.

Kennedy is assassinated, Lyndon B. Johnson succeeds upon his death.

1964 - Roachmania hits the United States from the band the Roaches, the name alluding to drug usage.

Civil Rights Act of 1964 is passed.

Flight of Gemini I.

1965 - Voting Rights Act of 1965 is signed.

The Watts race riots. 

1967 - The Outer Space Treaty is signed.

Apollo I ends in tragedy.

1968 - Martin Luther King is assassinated by James Earl Ray.

1969 - Project Apollo completes mission with Neil Armstrong on the moon. 

1972 - Watergate crisis begins.

1973 - Roe v. Wade.

1974 - President Nixon resigns, avoiding impeachment, replaced by Gerald R. Ford.

1976 - Viking I lands on Mars, shortly after followed by Viking II. We get color photos of Mars for the first time.

1980 - Mt. St. Helens volcano erupts.

1981 - The first interdimensional communications completed by Stanford Pines via technology using Fiddleford H. McGucket’s invention of the personal computer.

[lotusik]

How Hecate came to Vancouver Island. (June 7the 2020)

Image from Hecate Park & image of Hecate I made into a postcard.

I’ve grown up here on Vancouver Island. We moved here from Manitoba by the time I was 6 years old. It wasn’t til summer 2013 when I really became aware of the goddess Hecate (a story for another post!) and it was another few years before I clued into the connection between two local places I knew about, Hecate Park and Hecate Strait, with the goddess Hecate. I think the delay was due to the difference in pronunciation, the locales are pronounced Hek-et, and after hearing it my whole life, it just took me some time to connect the dots!

   Hecate Island, image by  Kira Hoffman

Since that time I have discovered there are 16 locales (as well as a fishing lodge and an inn) named Hecate on Vancouver Island and the surrounding areas! Obviously as a devotee of Hecate, I was thrilled to have this physical connection to a goddess associated with such faraway lands in history, and lands so different than the Pacific Northwest. But as so often happens, the actual story of how these places came to be named Hecate is neither terribly exciting, nor surprising really when the history of this island is looked at.

1903 Nootka House

 Kwakwakaʼwakw children in Yuquot (Friendly Cove)

Vancouver Island historically, and presently, is home to the Kwakwakaʼwakw, Nuu-chah-nulth and Coast Salish peoples.  In the 1800s the British came and began their colonization of these lands as if they did not already belong to others. While this post isn’t about the atrocities that happened here, I would be remiss not to mention them. The repercussions are still being felt to this day. I recall being really surprised when I learned that a large proportion of Canadians actually knew almost nothing about the attempted genocide. Though it is now finally starting to be talked about in schools, the information being shared is not entirely accurate and still quite problematic according to a young Kwakwakaʼwakw woman I spoke with, whom has recently finished with the school system. I am grateful to my grandparents (an amazing couple whom I have much more to write about in another post) that raised me to be respectful of the land and the original inhabitants, and for always having been aware of what happened in this place. It has led me to feel a strangely conflicted feeling about living here. Feeling both so at home with this island’s spirit, yet always feeling a deep longing for Europe, and being but a guest here. I feel the same conflict about being thrilled to have locations named Hecate here while knowing how those locations came to be named.

HMS Hecate aground in Neah Bay east of Cape Flattery between 15 and 21 August 1861

In 1860 Captain George Henry Richards first came to B.C. to do survey work on the H.M.S Plumper until she was decommissioned, he then continued the work aboard the H.M.S Hecate. And thus we see the origins of all these places being named Hecate. Captain Richards did survey work around Vancouver Island and the Sunshine Coast for two years. By all accounts he was a kind and fair man. Oftentimes he was called to break up disputes between the Indigenous people and whites, and he would invariably always call out the whites as being in the wrong. There are also stories of him giving treats and gifts to the Indigenous people and being generally very kind. I was personally very glad to read this. He also had some sweet mutton chops.

Captain George Henry Richards, Royal Navy, BC Archives

In naming places around coastal BC, apparently the indigenous names were kept as much as possible, but much that was not named already or if the indigenous name could not be used, then those places would be named. Many of the names given by Capt Richards were for his crew and even a favourite racehorse.

Here is the list I compiled of all the places named Hecate, on and around Vancouver Island, starting from the South and moving upward North Island and over to the Sunshine Coast.

Hecate Passage (E. of Chain Islets, W. of Plumper Passage)

Hecate Park (Cowichan Bay)

Hecate Street (Nanaimo)

Hecate Mountain (NE of junction of Uchucklesit Inlet and Alberni Inlet)

Hecate Bay (NW. of Meares Island, E. of Catface Range)

Hecate (abandoned locality NE side of Nootka Island)

Hecate Lake (N. end of Nootka Island, E. of Saltery Bay)

Hecate Channel (Between Zeballos and Tahsis Inlets)

Hecate 17 (East shore of Zeballos Arm of Esperanza Inlet)

Hecate Cove (N. side of Quatsino Sound, E. of Quatsino) [There is also the Hecate Cove Fishing Lodge]

Hecate Island (Just N of Calvert Island)

Hecate Strait  (Between Haida Gwaii & mainland) [On Haida Gwaii there is the Hecate Inn]

Hecate Rock (shoal in Duncan Bay)

Hecate Rock (Goletan Channel, Mount Waddington)

Hecate Reefs (I’m assuming this refers to the reefs in Hecate Strait)

Hecate Place (street in Vancouver)

According to British Columbia Coast Names by John, T. Walbran, Hecate Strait, Bay, Passage, Channel, Cove, Island, Rock (there are two in two different places) and reefs were named directly by Capt Richards between 1861-1862. The other places will likely have been named directly from those named by Richards.

{With libraries & archives being closed due to Covid 19 I wasn't able to access some of the information I'd originally gathered when I started this article several years back. That said, I think it contains most, if not all of the relevant information.}

While I was doing this research I realized there are quite a lot of places all over the world named Hecate, She certainly has made her way around the globe!

And lastly, I recently was also made aware of someone local who at one time had a boat named Hecate (retired), which if I get permission I will share a photo here of the boat herself, or at the very least, the beautiful wood sign with the name that was on the boat. They named the ship actually due to the goddess, the family having had a long time interest in Greek mythology.

Resources and references:

The private journal of Captain G.H. Richards: the Vancouver Island survey (1860-1862) (The first part is here: http://ronsdalepress.com/wp-content/uploads/2011/04/Private-Journal.pdf ) Ronsdale Press 2012

British Columbia Place Names G. P. V. Akrigg, Helen B. Akrigg, UBC Press 1997

British Columbia Coast Names 1592-1906 by John Walbran, J.J. Douglas Ltd 1977-2003

BC Geographical Names https://apps.gov.bc.ca/pub/bcgnws/

The Coast of British Columbia: Including the Juan de Fuca Strait, Puget Sound, Vancouver and Queen Charlotte Islands, United States. Hydrographic Office, U.S. Government Printing Office, 1891 - British Columbia

Dictionary Of Canadian Biography http://www.biographi.ca/en/bio/richards_george_henry_12E.html

Cobble Hill Historical Society https://cobblehillhistory.org/vignettes/item/26-hms-hecate

https://www.thecanadianencyclopedia.ca/en/article/vancouver-island#:~:text=The%20Treaty%20of%20Washington%20(1846,of%20British%20Columbia%20in%201871

Image Citations:

Nootka (Nuu-cha-nulth) House, 1903, Meany, Edmond S. (1862-19350 IN Meany Album v.2, p. 26, Digital Collection: American Indians of the Pacific Northwest Images, Edmond Meany Collection no. 132, Negative Number: NA 1150

Nuu-chah-nulth children at Friendly Cove, 1930s Alamy Stock Photo/Contributor Matteo Omied, Image ID 2BD7Y77

HMS Hecate - Public Domain

Captain George Henry Richards, Royal Navy; HMS Hecate and HMS Plumper, BC Archives, A-02432

[straightupstrangetimes]

Ogopogo: Infamous Monster of Okanagan Lake

Contributed by Andrew McKay, Co-Host of Into The Portal Podcast

Editor’s note: the following in an excerpt from Andrew McKay’s unpublished work, CANADIAN CRYPTIDS

OGOPOGO (OKANAGAN LAKE, BC)

Ogopogo: A giant serpent-like creature inhabiting Lake Okanagan British Columbia. 10 to 60 feet long and 1-4 feet wide, a head like a horse, smooth with no fins.

Finishing a close second to Nessie of Loch Ness Scotland for the most famous lake monsters in history, the legendary Ogopogo is said to be a massive serpent of prehistoric proportions, lurking in the depths of one of Canada’s most unique mountain lakes. The origins of the Ogopogo can be traced to the indigenous Sylix peoples of the Okanagan who, for thousands of years, have known of the creature and held it it high esteem as a spirit of the water, or N’ha-a-itk, which translates to ‘Lake Demon’. That local travellers would make a ritual sacrificial offering to Ogopogo when crossing the lake in return for safe passage arose out of this specific translation, however this is inaccurate, as the Ogopogo has been traditionally viewed by the Indigenous Okanagan people as a benevolent creature. Much like the Sasquatch, Ogopogo is thought of as both a metaphysical spirit of the lake and a very real living breathing animal. The sightings of the lake serpent certainly corroborate this, but could lake Okanagan be home to such a massive creature?

Lake Okanagan is incredibly deep and long for a high elevation mountain lake, stretching 90km in length, 5km in width and possibly as deep as 1000 feet in some locations. Even more interesting, lake Okanagan is what's known as a tectonic rift lake, and beneath the 1000 feet of water is proposed to be at least another 750 feet of loose sediment - a possible hiding place for a large eel-like monster. Some researchers believe that beneath this sediment lies ancient caves or perhaps lava tubes that could be home to the legendary serpent, a deep place to hide and possibly a good place to bear young. Legends persist that the serpents den lies beneath Squally Point and Rattlesnake Island, a small island that very much looks like the massive head of an aquatic monster; located towards the South end of the lake near Peachland BC. But what about the sightings?

The first european reports of the creature came from early 1800’s when Hudson’s Bay fur traders would hear second and third hand accounts of native legends. Every year there are new reports of sightings on the lake from boaters as well as those on shore, however some are much more convincing than others. One of the earliest non-indigenous reports of Ogopogo came in 1873 from a woman named Susan Allison. Allison was the first white settler in the area of the Okanagan and wrote of her experience in her memoirs ‘A Pioneer Gentle Women in BC ‘. According to Allison, her husband had a run in with a massive serpent near what is now Quails Gate Winery in West Kelowna while returning from a fishing trip.

In 1927 of the first reports of multiple creatures surfaced in a newspaper article of the Daily Colonist quoting a Mrs PV. Royal and Mrs WA. Newton who claimed to see multiple juvenile Ogopogo’s travelling in the Water near the shores of Downtown Kelowna. However one of the most compelling sightings of the 1920s occurred on Mission Beach where dozens of witnesses saw a massive serpent like creature travelling and surfacing several hundred meters offshore, causing multiple cars to stop and see what the commotion on the beach was all about. All in all all, over 40 people saw Ogopogo that day in what has become one of the most significant pieces of anecdotal evidence of the creatures existence, as almost no photo evidence came of the incident. Despite the lack of credible photo evidence the mission beach sighting has gone down in local lore as much more than a misinterpretation of some other object in the water that day… local residents would get their much desired image of the creature several decades later in the 1960’s with the infamous Folden Film.

In the summer of 1968 Art Folden and his wife were travelling south along the highway towards Penticton BC, when they noticed something very strange in the waters below them. Art pulled over the car and began to film what has now become the most compelling video evidence of a gigantic serpentine creature in Okanagan Lake. In several minutes of film; Art was able to capture the image of a massive 60 foot long 3 foot wide object surfacing, submerging and moving at an impressive rate of speed traveling south near Squally Point. The film was eventually purchased by Arlene Gaal, a journalist, who authored several books on the existence of the Ogopogo, and had it professionally analyzed. The film was not a hoax and the object travelling in the water that day can not be conclusively explained, leaving the Folden film has still the best video evidence of something monstrous in the Lake. However it doesn’t stop there.

In the 1970’s a man by the name of Ed Fletcher claimed to chase Ogopogo for several hours. The creature appeared to be attracted to the electrolysis created by the jet engine of his boat, a common fishing technique for attracting many types of aquatic life. As wild as his initial claims may have been, Ed was able to capture several photos that much like the Folden film are rather difficult to explain. in 1977, Ed Fletcher and his daughter photographed several images of what appears to be humps of a serpent undulating beneath the water with small portions exposed above the surface. Immediately people discounted the photos as nothing more than large waves created by the wake of Fletchers own boat, however upon closer analysis researchers found something slightly more ominous. Although officially inconclusive, the images clearly show that there is some kind of solid object beneath the water, suggesting the possibility that Ed’s photos are more than simply a strange series of waves.

Strange or ‘anomalous’ waves have in fact been the dominant explanation for almost all Ogopogo sightings, with there being some merit to the idea. UBC researchers have published works discussing how wind patterns on the surface in conjunction with temperatures and currents beneath the water can create what is known as anomalous waves, which can travel in strange directions and appear seemingly out of nowhere without a boat in sight. However for this to take place there has to be wind on the surface of the water and in the case of Art Folden and Ed Fletcher both pieces of evidence were taken on sunny afternoons, calm and deprived of conditions for such a wave to occur.

Reports continue to surface every year, some more terrifying than others. In the early 2000’s one local man reported that while swimming in the take training for a triathlon he was followed by two massive black serpents travelling closely behind him. At first he thought it was a trick of his imagination, but when he realized he was being stalked by very real moving objects adrenaline took effect and he headed straight for shore. Sightings such as this are common on the lake where large dark objects are seen one second and disappear the next, the question we are left with is what exactly are people experiencing in Okanagan Lake?

Theories

Like most creatures of cryptozoology, the Ogopogo’s existence is still up for debate. Most mainstream researchers believe that this mountain lake is far too small to be the home of such a giant creature. So what could it be? Some people have suggested that much like Champ in Lake Champlain of Vermont/Quebec, the Ogopogo could be an evolved species of Plesiosaur, an extinct marine reptile that supposedly disappeared around 65 million years ago. However, unlike Champ in lake Champlain, the descriptions of Ogopogo lack the fins and flippers of the Plesiosaur, striking away an already unlikely answer to this mystery.

Others have posited that the sturgeon is the obvious answer for massive creatures being sighted in the water. These types of fish can grow well over 6 feet and at a glance might fit the description of a serpent like monster in the water, however sturgeon are not known to move in an undulating motion like an eel that has been described time and again with sightings of the Ogopogo, not to mention that Sturgeon certainly do not grow to be 60 feet long like the object shown in the Folden Film.

Another theory suggested by researcher Joe Nickel, who has written extensively on Lake Monsters, is that most of these sightings could possibly be a group of otters who are often known to swim in a line. This could account for some of the reported sightings, but does not account for the size or for the feelings described by people who have had experience on and in the water. Fishermen, avid boaters, farmers working lakeside all know what certain animals of the area look like, making it hard to believe that all sightings could be simple misinterpretation.

The most compelling theory for Ogopogo is the idea that the creature is a giant eel that has survived and evolved by burrowing and living in the deep sediment of this rift lake. We know that salt water eels can grow to massive sizes such as The Kongor eel which has been known to grow to sizes up to 20 feet and weigh over 200 pounds, a formidable foe to be sure; but not a freshwater dwelling creature. Despite this the descriptions of Ogopogo all point to the it being some kind of giant eel, and if its reproduction cycles take many years within the depths of this unique mountain lake perhaps there could be a sustaining breeding population lurking in the abyss of lake okanagan.

Best Places to See Ogopogo in the Okanagan

- Squally Point, The alleged home of Ogopogo and location of numerous sightings.

- Naramata, Southern Okanagan Lake

- Pauls Tomb, local beach at Knox Mountain Park that features an underwater statue of Ogopogo. Swim into the depths here to catch a glimpse, if you dare!

_________________________________

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[shelbymustange]

Is Canada really that good? I've been thinking abt leaving my country and America is a no-no for me

This is such an incredibly difficult thing for me to write, as I’m a white person living in Canada and I don’t know a lot about POC experiences in my country. Everything I know about racism in Canada is from an outsider perspective. The only thing I can really speak on is my experiences as an LGBT person, and as an AFAB person who was born and raised here.

I'm not even close to an authority on how POC feel about living in Canada, and I can only give my opinion on that based on my personal experiences with my POC friends and acquaintances, plus what I have read in the news and from articles written by POC.

As well, this is from the perspective of someone who grew up in rural Ontario, and is living in Ottawa. Ottawa is not a large city, and it is in South Eastern Ontario. Canada is a very, very large country. South Eastern Ontario is no where near the same as Northern Ontario, or even Western Ontario, let alone Alberta or the Maritimes or the Yukon. 

Please keep this in mind as a speak on what I do know. There is a lot more that I don’t, and if you are POC, I encourage you to seek out articles or posts written by POC citizens and immigrants about their experience coming to Canada and living here. As well as seeking out local articles written from the place you may want to move within the country. 

Now that I have said that, let me begin:

Canada has it's issues with POC, and it would be incredibly ignorant for me to say we don't. There is still racism here, there is still anti-immigrant sentiment. There’s a very, very longstanding history of racism toward our First Nations/Indigenous/Native people. This history and mistreatment is becoming more well known about my country. It’s currently in debate whether we should label the Missing and Murdered Indigenous Women a genocide because of the systematic negligence on the part of our authorities toward finding these girls and closing the numerous cold cases there are. As well, the ‘Starlight Tours’ -- or a more apt and less pleasing name the “Saskatoon Freezing Deaths” are also gaining a lot more attention toward how my country has treated it’s Indigenous people, and their systematic oppression. Not to mention the issue surrounding our residential schools and kidnapped indigenous children. <--there is a lot to unpack about Canada and it’s First Nations peoples. I could go on for paragraphs about this. I encourage any Canadian followers to read the articles in this paragraph and learn about these atrocities if you think our country is perfect.

Canada is not a utopia for POC. Brown and Black people as well, still suffer from racism from our authorities, as well as just daily racism from the people around them. And there are cases of police negligence and brutality that happen in Canada. This is a fact that our country has to face. 

In terms of our government -- well, our parties are a lot different than the US. Here’s what our election looked like last year, and a basic overview on party policies. Our elections last like...a month? I think last year it was 78 days and that was a long ass election. Generally speaking, there isn’t as much of and Us or Them mentality with our parties and I think it’s because we have a Parliament system. In my perspective, they’re all sort of toeing the line because they need each other in order for any policy to pass, especially when we have a minority government.

So, no one other than the conservatives are aligning themselves with just one party. And the conservatives only do that because the PC party is really the only contending conservative power in Canada. The other three parties that have MPs in House are leftist parties. 

Personally speaking, I’m a leftist. I side more with the NDP than the Liberals in terms of policies, but I don’t align myself with a specific party. I’m just a leftist. I usually vote Liberal, because in my district, they are the only contenders against the PC party, and ultimately my district is PC led because it’s a small town and it’s just how people vote there.

That’s how I look at our government. Notice how much more flippant it is than you might get from someone in the States? AND. I’m going to be perfectly honest here, not long ago, in our provincial government, we had a Premier named Kathleen Wynne, who I wanted to like, but she made some really stupid decisions (except $14 min wage, thank u Wynne). She was a Liberal party leader. And, you know, I was not okay with a PC government in Ontario, especially one run by Doug Ford (brother of notorious Rob Ford). And he’s done some shit I don’t like at all, BUT! I can comfortably say that I respect Doug Ford because of his decision making during the Covid Pandemic. While it was slow and could have been handled better, do I think another leader would have done better? Not really. But at the same time, there was no downplaying, and despite his emphasis on business in his platform, he surprised me with his re-opening policies and how slowly they were taken. (except the schools, because that was fuckin stupid tbh but I’m not going to keep going on about that.). Generally speaking, here when you’re mad about a politician, it’s for non-heinous, smaller bad decision making, rather than taking away Trans rights, for example. (An Aside -- here in Ontario, trans people who are clinically diagnosed with dysphoria and referred for surgery by a professional have their surgeries covered by OHIP (provincial health plan), and do not have to pay out of pocket, so that’s nice).

(Disclaimer: this opinion is from a white person’s prespective, a white person who votes in rural Ontario, who’s friends and family are quite equally as skeptical and logical toward politics and politicians. My flippancy could very well  be because of my white priviledge and I encourage any poc Canadian followers to respond with their opinions so I can rb here. I just know majority of immigrant Canadians vote Liberal since like the 70s).

Largely our Conservative party is much more concerned with fiscal issues than anything else (though there are some outliers, like Andrew Scheer who was notoriously anti-lgbt and abortion, but from what I could see it was kept out of his politics?? I need to look into it more, but ultimately he was taken out as the PC leader I think largely because of the country’s opinions on this) but a good portion of their supporters can be racist, and non-supportive of lgbt people, anti-abortion, etc. Ultimately, our conservatives, when in power recently, have never tried to reverse LGBT rights, though they toe the line of reproductive rights, despite not actively re-opening the debate. As well, Ontario, Nova Scotia and Prince Edward Island, as well as Vancouver, Edmonton and Calgary have enacted bans on conversion therapy. A bill has also been tabled that will federally ban conversion therapy, and it’s not something that the conservatives are really fighting against. For the most part, they leave LGBT people alone rather than actively passing laws to harm them. I can personally say, I’ve never felt fear for my life, or my rights when we’ve had a majority PC government.

As an immigrant, compared to the US, you are more likely to be taken in to our country, and it is much easier to get work. It’s also easier to become a permanent resident (here’s a list of personal stories from answers on Quora about Canada vs US immigration). 

As well, the Canadian government adopted the idea of Canada as a multicultural nation back in the 1970s. We’re not a melting pot like the US. And this can be a big draw for people looking to immigrate, because it emphasizes individuality and the positives of what different cultures can bring to a country. (Though this can be contested and quite fairly at that).

I personally know a good amount of people who have immigrated to Canada, from a variety of different backgrounds, who love it here, and have had very little issue in their lives. Not none, obviously for the POC, because racism still happens here, but they love being here, and ultimately they feel safe and like they belong. They have found community here. But this is just my personal experience, Heres’s a couple articles from and about Canadian immigrants:

Immigrants talk about when they 'started to feel Canadian' - Ottawa Citizen, 2018 As an immigrant, I know how it feels to be 'lonely and isolated' in my new country - CBC Saskatchewan, 2019    What It Takes: An immigrant’s journey from Zimbabwe to Canada - Global News, 2019

This isn’t to say that people come here and they’re always going to love it. There’s a lot of people who leave, either to go back to their home country, or to go to another country (like the US). Even though it’s easier than in the US, it can still be hard to get a job here in the field you want, things are kind of really expensive compared to the US, the US has better higher level education, they have better paying jobs, etc. 

And again, this is the perspective of a white person from a smaller city in Ontario. I know Toronto, even though half of it’s population are immigrants, has a lot of issues with it’s police and brutality and anti-black and brown racism. Ultimately, you will not completely escape racism, individual or systemic, in this country. It’s an unfortunate fact that we can all fight to change in the future.

But in a small town. It’s a community. As someone from a rural area, I know that in my experience, there has never been a point where I have seen anyone from my small communities who have been, at the least, outwardly racist toward a POC. I personally have never seen or heard of a person being confronted or abused or called names because of the colour of their skin or cultural background. (here is an article written by my brother’s friend and former band mate, who is a black man that was adopted as a child, about his experiences in small town Canada, and his perspective on the BLM movement and the response of his white friends).

Anyway, I hope this sort of got my point across. Canada’s a complicated nation, like most. I didn’t touch on the base level, ‘why is canada a good place to immigrate’ points or anything, but I figure you would look that up before making such a big choice. And I’ve already spent 4 hours trying to write something coherent and somewhat researched to say...

Again, I encourage anyone to rb with their opinion or with anything I may have missed. Or send an ask or whatever.

[atlanticcanada]

Sites to be commemorated: Residential schools recognized as 'historic event'

They blighted Indigenous lives for more than a century. Now their creation is being formally recognized as one of the events that helped shape today's Canada.

The federal government has put residential schools on the official roster of National Historic Events. Two of the schools, one in Nova Scotia and one in Manitoba, have been named National Historic Sites -- the first in Canada to be so marked.

"Telling history is not just about telling the good things," said federal Environment Minister Jonathan Wilkinson, who is also responsible for historic sites and monuments.

"It's also about telling the more challenging things -- commemorating and understanding history. It's not about celebrating."

The schools, which ran from the 1870s to the 1990s, join a list of 491 other significant Canadian historical events. It's about time they were added to a list which mentions both the Calgary Stampede and the Montreal Canadiens, said Ry Moran of the National Centre for Truth and Reconciliation at the University of Manitoba.

"There has been a severe under-representation of Indigenous places, events, people and sites recognized by the Historic Sites and Monuments Board." he said.

"It's essential that something as

important as the residential schools be recognized."

Doing so was one of the recommendations from the Truth and Reconciliation Commission. More such designations may be coming, said Wilkinson.

"It's certainly the beginning."

One of the two designated schools is on the land of the Long Plain First Nation near Portage la Prairie, Man.

"They have great historic significance to all Canadians," said Chief Dennis Meeches, whose mother, father and grandfather all attended the school. "It's sacred and hallowed ground."

The First Nation owns the school, which houses offices and a small residential school museum. A memorial garden and statue is planned.

Meeches said the band would like to create a national museum on the site.

"(When it comes to) historic sites of Indigenous people, there's a lot of mistruths -- even in the history books. We have a lot of work to do."

The second designated school in Shubenacadie, N.S., was torn down long ago and a plastics factory sits where it stood. But it's not forgotten, said survivor Doreen Bernard.

"My grandmother, my parents, their siblings and me and my siblings all went," she said. "We went through a lot there.

"What we lost -- our language, our traditional education, a lot of the things that would normally be passed down in our culture -- we're still trying to gain back. I'm still working on those things."

A plaque on the site where those losses occurred will preserve their memory, she said.

"It's really important that this place is marked."

The recognition Tuesday comes days after a statue of Sir John A. Macdonald, Canada's first prime minister and one of the originators of residential schools, was torn down in Montreal.

"I don't believe vandalism is ever the right way to have important discussions and debates," Wilkinson said. "We need to be able to tell our history.

"I do understand the frustration ... I think there is a level of frustration about ... the way in which we have typically gone about commemorating history through a very narrow lens."

Moran sees a relationship between the two events.

"When we see John A. MacDonald's statue defaced or toppled, we have to recognize that as an effort being made by people to bring other elements of his history to light, to rectify the unequal telling of how we've presented these historical leaders."

Tuesday's announcement is the start of a new balance, Moran suggested, but there's a long way to go.

"There are still hundreds of cemetery sites we need to identify containing the graves of children that never returned home. There's still thousands of residential school students that never returned home that we need to find the names for.

"There is an awful lot of work that we have to do in order to better explain and understand our history."

This report by The Canadian Press was first published Sept. 1, 2020

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