#i have hope for the rez dogs that if they want to they make it out

[4ever-the-nme]

I think I would have enjoyed this flashback episode more if it was about Rita, Teenie, Cookie, Bev, and their clique instead. As much as I like Bucky and Brownie, I prefer the aunties over them.

[mp3-max]

Rez Dogs Analysis

I want to do a scene analysis of this episode because it was absolutely beautiful!!

BIG TW FOR SPOILERS

In this scene we see Fixico worried about Chebon, trying to apologize (in his own way) by telling him that their family is there to support him. wich is what he really needs and even admits to Mable earlier by saying that Fixico doesn't acknowledge that he doesn't have parents, and how much different their lives are because of it...

but Notice the LIGHTING!!

it's so very colorful and almost Halo like, Chebon even mentions it "Don't you look at me with your holier than thou aura" while getting mad and telling him to fuck off

Then we have the star people secen, on the car ride back home from the river Irene and Bucky are going on about how the relationship between Elders and Kids is severed by the school system.

Immediately the lighting in this scene is very different, devoid of color and almost soulless.

Mind you this is just my theory and observations as a veiwer!!

I believe the alien claiming to be Chebon's "ancestor" dosent appear because of the drugs but in fact a direct consequence of having a broken relationship with family. Throughout the episode we see him denying support whether directly (like with Fixico) or indirectly (with the school coach). It's obvious he doesn't want help but the people around him can tell he desperately needs it and want to be there for him as a community

I don't believe it is entirely his fault although he does deny help, to me he has a reason to! he feels ostracized by his community, being picked on by his friends, and (assumingly) growing up in boarding schools he didn't get those same family relationships as his friends, besides Fixico who he's currently mad at.

The star person that shows up to me is a metaphor for losing your way. Based on the first couple of episodes of the season this visit has effected him into late adulthood, believing in the star people and seeking them out. Chebon/Max is simply a lost soul, failed by the system, and it makes sense he found Bear when he did; Bear was also lost not just physically but spiritually, wanting to leave the reservation and shooing off his spirit guide. He returns to the reservation after the Deer Lady finds him, but not before she kills the Boarding school director/principal.

are we seeing the common theme this season? schooling and taking Indigenous peoples out of their community, and how traumatic this can be on Indigenous peoples. all I can hope is that Bear and the rest of the rez dogs can break this generational trauma.

If you read all this you're a champ um but ya that is my analysis. feel free to correct me if I'm in the wrong in any way, or add on and let me know what you think of this ep and show my dms are open!

also can you tell im OBSSESED W THIS SEASON

[girlmadeofstarlight]

'Reservation Dogs' started season 3 off with a bang. The last we saw of the four Rez dogs, they had just said goodbye to Daniel at the one place he has always wanted to visit, the ocean.

We welcome the core four, Bear, Elora, Cheese and Willie Jack, in the season three premiere episode as they scramble around on how to get back home to Oklahoma after their money and car have been stolen. Luckily, Auntie Teenie comes to the rescue (I hope we see more of her this season) and just as quickly they arrived to California, they are back on the bus toward home. I appreciated that the bus ride gave each of them the time to reflect on the next stages of their lives, what is it going to look like? All return home with the exception of Bear, who was mistakenly left behind at the bus change stop, and that jumps us to the next episode.

The second episode beautifully highlighted Bear and his interaction with Maximus, a recluse he meets in the desert. So much symbolism in this episode! I appreciated how the writers showed how important family and community are to a person through the conversations between the two. 'Reservation Dogs' have done an excellent job bringing on legendary Native American actors for guests spots, previous seasons included Wes Studi and Gary Farmer, they delighted fans again by bringing in Graham Greene, who proved this episode why he is one of the best actors out there.

One thing to note, is non-Native viewers might be confused on Native stories and beliefs, that are sometimes highlighted upfront or casually mentioned in the background in each episode. I appreciated in the past hearing the stories of the little people, Deer Woman, and in this season, the Star People. The glimpse into the stories are not done to ridicule or make fun of but to honor and teach. The writers have done an excellent job in incorporating these lessons.

I cannot wait for the rest of the season and what they writers and actors have in store for us!

[when-did-this-become-difficult]

//

the question was what can you do a presentation on

I don't know very much about this! But goodness am I prepared to blather about it! I believe that the old "Golden Age of Television" prestige shows like the Sopranos, Mad Men, and Breaking Bad (the Wire is somewhat separate from this) will continue to have a fixed and revered place in the Canon of Prestige Shows, while up and coming Hulu/FX half hour prestige dramedy shows like Reservation Dogs, The Bear, and Ramy will continue to be considered great and yet not "canonical" in that same way. And it's not just because of hour vs half hour, old vs new, white men vs everybody else; it's also because of the shows relationship to violence, power, and morality.

Reservation Dogs, The Bear, and Ramy all feature characters who are trying to find their way, trying to figure out how to live in the world. Oftentimes it seems like they're just struggling to survive period, but there's this throughline in each show about how to live well, even if those characters are like, failing nonstop at it?

Like, Tony will go to therapy, Carmela will go talk to a priest, but they're never gonna make much progress on the absolute fundamental root problem at the core of their life, which is that their prosperity comes from other people's suffering. Great writing, the story of American history really. Valid story to tell, probably comes from the bottom of David Chase's heart and is what he really thinks, I'm not knocking the Sopranos.

In TV criticism, that extremely cynical and hopeless view of people never fundmentally changing in their evil is like...valued more artistically? I think it goes deeper than the old "dark shit overrated, funny/hopeful shit underrated" because that's true but also, Rez Dogs and The Bear and Ramy all get real dark sometimes. I just. Mm there's something about striving.

I personally prefer the half hour prestige stuff tho so like maybe I'm just over intellectualizing or whatever because I'm mad that this stuff hasn't reached canonical status when I feel it should. That's an option! That's always an option

Just me sitting here thinking a lot about it

.

Bonus absolute ramble, depressing and not very analytical! again im keeping this because my tumblr is my lil journal (my tumblr my house etc)

// Original answer

I wish I had a more fun answer for you.

Honestly not feeling terribly confident in the thoroughness of my knowledge about anything these days. Two of the good old standards (Parade's End first three books and Colombian electoral politics 1990) have begun to fade & I suppose I could do a presentation on jcink sandbox RP but idk if I would really want to.

possibly depressing ass ramble under the cut. CEO gets a yacht and I get an egg sandwich, that's why tumblr gets all my mental bandwidth

The real subject that popped into my head that I haven't consciously been perseverating on lately but which I might have lowkey been thinking about a little bit over decades of my life is simply the perception gap between imagined political enemies vs real ones in US politics particularly over time particularly with the internet particularly on the subject of abortion.

(Disclaimer: abortion rights are human rights, I don't feel like I should have to trot out much more slogans than that, you get the vibe.)

(Other disclaimer: this has nothing to do with E, who has actually a very good view into what's going on with Those Guys, hi E, I'm not roasting you I'm roasting some other fellows.)

Sometimes what's going on with your opponents is simultaneously not at all what you think and exactly what you think and maybe I don't want to give a presentation as much as I want to have an in depth discussion of how and why some quite intelligent and well-informed people end up all turned around and not having an accurate understanding of what's going on with their political opponents by simply selecting a handful of the most palatable (to them) truths and then focusing on those to the expense of all else.

And not only what is happening, but what is the utility of that? What are the drawbacks? I think as just a regular degular person who gets frustrated upon hearing other people Be Loudly Wrong, I find it really annoying. But if we put my feelings aside, is there a reason (other than soothing feelings and strengthening morale) that people develop all these semi inaccurate mental characterizations of their opponents? Is there actual political utility to it? And how much of it is consciously done vs happening because of the environment *gestures at media, social media*

Like I have really, really been inside the guts of "both sides" on this one in an insidery way so I just. #NotAllPartisans but a lot of them do not get it, "it" being each other, like at all.

But then one some bits they're spot on about each other.

Weird!

[jenkinsgallardo]

When we’ll meet another way (pt.3)

Took a wrong detour or something?" Roger sipped his coffee and taking a seat.

Belinda, his wife didn't even need to ask what he was talking about…

Belinda made a knowing face, she smiled softly hoping to not make a big deal of it..

Roger took a deep breath "Thought I dog proofed the area."

His wife took a quick deep breath... but her deep breath wasn't for the young wolf that dented her car.. it was her wolf of a husband.

"We don't even know what he was doing? and it wasn't even near our house like you said and"

"Belinda." Roger kindly stopped his wife from defending what he already knew the facts.

The fact was that it was Paul that dented the car. And the fact that Paul didn't listen to Rogers orders to stay away.

Now Roger might be a giant wolf and shouldn't be afraid of anything.. but he realized who he was talking to ..his wife

"I'm sorry" Roger stood up from the table and hugged her, leaning over to rest his head on top of hers

"Why is this something that's making you so mad…You don't seem to mind when it happened to you."

"Yea neither did your folks" Roger joked and kissed on top of her head and sat back down.

"Hey, that is not fair. Okay this whole thing is different."

"Why? cause the reservation has a stray dog problem."

Belinda sighs "It shouldn't have to be a problem.."

Roger looked knowingly at Belinda.. because she was right.. it shouldn't be a problem.

It was who he was and what he was tied down to that was the problem.

"C'mon barney!" Laura came running down the stairs with her pet pug.

"You ready?" Roger said while walking away from his wife.. and from a possible fight that would've happened if Laura hadn't came down..

"Yes" Laura said while finishing giving Barney some breakfast in his bowl.

"Alright Laura, take it easy on your dad. Let him keep just try and keep up with you" her mom teased while they made their way out.

"Yea I'll run slow for her" Roger teased back and gave his wife a kiss before he left.

Belinda waved goodbye to her husband and daughter while they drove off to go running.

She smiled down at Barney who was sitting next to her leg, already missing Laura.

"You think everything is gonna be ok with them?"

Barney barked back.

Belinda smiled down at the young chubby Pug.

"I hope so too"

Laura looked back at her dad, she knew that he could run up to her. But that didn't stop her from pushing her legs faster.

"are you ki-!"

She looked up with her dad already running next to her.

"Shi-!"

Laura jumped on her dads back only hoping to stop him…. but she was only hoping. Roger just laughed at his young daughter trying to hang on

him like a monkey.

Laura looked up from the ground to her dad waving at someone.

"Is that laura?!" she quickly turned her head over to her name.

"Who's that?"

Jack smiled "go over and find out"

Laura stood up and wiped the sand off her leggings. She ran over and the more closer she got the more she started to recognize him.

"Is that Sam" Laura said while running closer, and before he could reply back he hugged her almost off the ground.

"I haven't seen you since you were a baby" Sam said with a smile.

"Yea nothings really changed" her dad said walking up to them.

"Oh my goodness look at your guys eyes, they are so unreal"

Laura smiled at the young women; already so use too the eye comments she'd get every day.

Emily, the young woman introduced herself.

"Where do you go to school?" Emily asked.

"I go to Sutton, in forks."

"Aw your dad didn't want you to go school in the rez like he did?" Sam teased.

laura looked over and saw a picnic setup "how cute a lil picnic date."

Emily looked back and smiled "yea you want some cookies"

Laura smiled and nodded.

"Wow, laura must be fighting off the boys at school. She's adorable" sam said while looking over at laura and Emily laughing.

"Sutton is an all girls school" Jack said while taking a sip of water

"Hm, so it's every boy you're keeping away from? thought Paul was just special"

Jack gave Sam a stern look that almost made him think twice on who he was talking to…

"I was thinking, You guys should come to the bonfire tonight?"

"I don't think so."

Sam furrowed his eyebrows "You know they'll be other people. And look i'll even watch over Pau-"

"It's not that"

Sam just looked at Jack waiting for an explanation.

"I don't want her to get freaked out"

"Freaked out? doe- does she not know about?…"

Jack slowly shook his head

"And I want to keep it that for as long as I can"

````````````````````````````````````````````````````````````````````````````````````'

Chapter 3 finally. Yes, finally getting more characters in too. I'm kind of starting on chapter four but have a bit of a hard time getting everything together. Any ideas on what you want to see or anything? I have like a whole outline it'll be cool if I find out what you guys are wanting, or think might happen in this story. Be sure to comment and follow!

[tempestaslokni]

Rather than being put off, Lokni was intrigued. "I didn't know that about axolotyls, that's really interesting. Do you study wildlife?" he asked before addressing her inquiry about the bracelet, "to answer your question though, it feels kinda' like that. Like an extension of me. I don't need it to survive, but I feel that I'll need it eventually." He hoped that his explanation made sense, because to be honest, he wasn't sure that he quite understood it himself. Even though Lindi was driving a hard bargain with the bungalows and their usefulness, Lokni still felt that being off the grid was better for everyone. Lokni had met quite a lot of people, but that didn't mean that he trusted all of them. Most people had a bad side to them, even Lokni, maybe even this kind, energetic woman that he was conversing with. "I appreciate your offer, really, but I think it's best for everyone if I'm on my own. I want to help out, but I don't need to live in a bungalow to do that." The image of him making one of those bungalows his home was... strange. Reminded him of the rez dogs curled up in some ramshackle doghouse. They were all tethered to this island, but that didn't mean that Lokni had to accept it. There was a defiant seed rooted deeply within his heart. He wasn't going to roll over that easy.

Lokni's interest was piqued at her mention of Darcy. "Oh, you mean Miss Palmer? She's really nice, helped me get off of the ship. Are her theories about the island really that strange?" Lokni asked, holding aside a curtain of vines for Lindi to pass through. He was a little surprised at the tone that Lindi took on when discussing Miss Palmer. Had things gone sideways with the two of them? Her probing about his work made him a little curious. Did she really wanna' hear about all of that? "Well, I mainly herd cattle and dig holes for fence posts. Rodeos were for when I was a younger buck. At this age, if I took a tumble off a bull it could cost thousands in medical bills. I did some bull riding back in my day. Did a little bulldogging, reining, roping, but I don't think anything will top the races I did in Calgary. There's this event held in Alberta called 'Indigenous Relay Races.' I was gonna' go this year as well, I had gotten more confident in my horsemanship and wanted to give it another go." Lokni realized that his voice had taken on a lilt, his excitement at recalling the adrenaline he had felt at that time causing him to talk a lot more animatedly. "Enough about me though, what is the horseback riding scene like where you're from?" he asked, taking a moment to stretch, the phantom pains of old injuries ghosting around his ribcage. "Sounds like you really know how to give back to your community. That's really great, you know. I wish that we had had more people like you around on the rez. With the lack of infrastructure and all, we could use more help." He said, his strides in no hurry to get anywhere. It was true, a lot of reservations didn't even have paved roads. Memories of Lokni's poor attendance in school flashed through his mind. Teachers should've been better informed about how hard it was for Indigenous kids to get to school, but a lot of them were too preoccupied with paperwork to study up on reservation issues. When she mentioned her daughter, Lokni gave pause, he hadn't pictured her to be a mother, all smiles and energy. Compared to his own mother, she radiated health and exuberance. What made them so different? He wondered. Regardless, he was curious, "what's your daughter's name? Secondary school... so she's finishing high school, right? I'm sorry, I'm not familiar with systems outside of The States." He didn't know how to respond to hearing how she was divorced, but knowing what his mother and father's situation had been, he just assumed that it was for the best and that he shouldn't pry.

"Zaid's a damn good cook. You gotta' hand it to someone who can make a dish when there's hardly any ingredients available. The crab he cooked for us was great. I don't think I'll ever be able to turn down an invitation in the future. Dangerous man, that Zaid is." Lokni joked, waggling his eyebrows at Lindi in a playful manner. "Do you cook a lot at home? How do you prefer to do things?" At this point, he was bantering, but maybe that was an American trait. Awkward silences made him feel like things weren't right between them, and that he needed to fill it with something. "The fact that there are no cameras out here is why I want to stay away from the bungalows. I don't like it. I prefer my privacy where I'm able to get it." Lokni reiterated. Though, he couldn't expect everyone to understand that sentiment. After all, he had grown up in a place that couldn't afford cameras. Maybe it was just something that he had grown accustomed to. Regardless, he didn't want to just brush off what Lindi was saying, and he appreciated her seeing things from his perspective. It really meant a lot to him. More than he could iterate in his own words. "In all honesty Miss, I think that being "perceived" as a new age hippie here is the least of your worries. If resources start to run dry, it may turn into something much more than just a mission to get home. People can turn on each other in the blink of an eye in times of need." He said cautiously. It wasn't his intention to make the conversation so solemn, but he didn't want Lindi to fall into a false sense of security either. Despite this, Lokni knew that he needed to keep a close eye on the plants around and experiment with how long it took them to replenish their fruit and nutrient-packed roots. "What if we tried to make a community garden? I've collected some seeds from the fruits and vegetables I've been eating. We could probably help a lot of people out that way." Lokni said, looking up with his hands in his pockets. Shooting ideas out wasn't really his forte, but Miss Lindi did have experience with working in communal settings. Judging from the weather here, her wouldn't be surprised if the growing period was year-round, unlike America. They should use that to their advantage. If he did the muscle work, maybe they could make something really nice, for everyone. If they could get the other islanders in on it, they might be able to make a renewable source of food. It would also stave off potential conflict. "Speaking of strange things that have happened, so far aside from what happened with Maria, the strangest thing is me waking up here. I keep having people tell me of strange happenings, but I've not experienced anything too out of the ordinary aside from coming to on the ship." Lokni explained as honestly as he could. Was there something that everyone else was seeing that he wasn't? Lokni almost felt like there was some sort of barrier between him and everyone else. Again. The feeling ate away at him like an infection. Lokni didn't like that one bit.

Lindi did her best to listen as Lokni explained how his own bracelet felt strange, like an extra limb. "Like having a tail? The kind that can detach, like a lizard?" Or a newt. "Do you know axolotls can regrow their limbs and organs?" she piped up, and then sheepishly grimaced. She was dangerously close to descending into amphibian adjacent nerdery. It was a topic that often made her conversation partners' eyes glaze over with pure indifference, she wouldn't subject Lokni to that.

Somehow, Lindi had made a good go of convincing Lokni about the bungalows. Maybe Janice was right, maybe dipping her toes into real estate would have been the way to go. She could see Lokni turning over her points in favour of the bungalows over in his head, his aura a pleasing, steady glow with a slight shimmer. "There are plenty of bungalows available if you change your mind," she said, sounding like she was right out of the catalogue. God, she was wasting her talents on the PTA.

"I get along with most people," Lindi said, which was true enough. She should be the bigger person, refuse to engage in all of the nasty lowbrow rumour mongering. It was easier when she had Steve by her side, he would take every chance to stoop low and gossip and Lindi could stay within earshot and have the high ground. But he wasn't here (which was good, she didn't want him here, didn't want to subject anyone more to this even if she missed him). "Have you met Darcy?" she asked, aware she was being catty, bitchy… Whatever, sometimes it was nice to get it out. "I strongly disagree with her harebrained theories."

A much more pleasant turn in conversation was Lokni calling himself a ranchhand, which sounded like the non-chalant way of calling yourself a cowboy. A cowboy without the connotations and all of that. Did he still wear the hat? "I used to love horses, as a kid. Wanted a pony, the whole deal," Lindi said, trying not to gush about actually meeting a real life cowboy. "What sort of work do you do as a ranchhand?" she asked. "Like… rodeo sort of work?" she ventured, fishing but not fishing to see if he was more cowboy than not.

Lokni was so charming as he asked her how she filled her day, that she forgot to have her own internal angst and disappointment with herself over her answer. "I do a lot of volunteering, community boards, PTA, council meetings, that sort of thing," Lindi said, sidestepping the way of how she made money in a way that insinuated that money was not a problem for her. Well, now with her divorce, it was steadily becoming an issue. "I was on my way home from a job interview when all of this happened. I had a career break after my daughter," she explained, as if it was a short period without work, as opposed to nearly two decades.

Home, her job interview, her mortgage. All of that was up in the air, more and more uncertain with each day that passed. Lindi worried her bottom lip, humming emphatically as Lokni spoke about getting home as soon as possible, family worrying about him. It was almost too painful to think about, like his words had come and speared her through the chest. Even his aura had changed, wavering and dull with the weight of… his thoughts? Sadness?

His abrupt change to flirtation pleasantly shocked Lindi out of her malaise. Lindi blushed, and waved her hand at Lokni's prompting, giving an airy chuckle. It was easier to lean into the ease of flattery than to linger in her own sadness. "Well I'm divorced. Two months official and everything," she said, with a brave, bossbabe smile. "My daughter is just finishing secondary school…" Lindi trailed off, all of her ease and flippancy disappearing for a moment as she lingered on Paige. She needed to get back for her.

Lindi swallowed, blinking as she took a second to push thoughts of Paige out of the way. She smiled tightly, switching instead to discussion of crabs and cooking. "No, no, he had an utterly fantastic place in Soho," Lindi said, which made her sound like a rich prick, which she was, so that was fair.

"A lot about this whole situation doesn't sit right with me," Lindi said, parroting Lokni's words back to him. He had a wonderful way of putting things. "Normally I'm not too bothered by CCTV, but that's when I'm in London. Here it's almost… nefarious. Why keep tabs on us?" she asked. "At least out here there aren't many cameras. I can see why you want to stay in the forest."

Lindi knew that as soon as she started speaking about outlines and sparkles that she was going to sound insane. This whole place was insane. Selin changing sizes, teleportation, all tied back to the horrible noise on the speakers and Maria's explosion. "No, it's… refreshing to know I'll be believed," she admitted. "I don't know quite what to make of everything, really. I don't want everyone to think I'm some new age hippie. Not that there's anything wrong with that." The smell of incense gave her migraines. "Can I ask what strange things have happened to you?"

[nexility-sims]

get to know me.

tagged by: all my friends ! [insert crying emoji] thanks for the inclusion, @warwickroyals & @armoricaroyalty & @funkyllama & @trentonsimblr & @trouvailleroyals

favorite color: black, red, all of those verdant shades of green.

currently reading: [unhinged screaming] on the docket for today is gary nash's forging freedom and cynthia radding's wandering peoples. yesterday, i read stuff about the andes and also women in plantation households. for leisure, i've been reading since this summer: tommy orange's there there, ottessa moshfegh's my year of rest and relaxation, and stephen graham jones' my heart is a chainsaw. also y'all's stories ! i don't want to jinx myself, but i'm hoping to FINALLY catch up with @ardeney-sims this weekend, among some others i'd like to at least start. if anyone has suggestions for how to keep your place in stories instead of frantically scrolling someone's blog every time ... lemme know ...

last song you listened to: uh oh. spotify says "king" by florence + the machine, which checks out.

last series watched: my watching is all over the place. lately, it's been dance moms (finished. chaos) and season two of rez dogs (so good), plus i started rewatching american horror story: coven with a friend this week. i also started fear city on netflix last night but idk if i'll go back to it. why when i can rewatch goodfellas for the 1834935th time .... oh, and fear the walking dead ! i picked it back up recently but idk if i will continue anytime soon (more zombies, less interpersonal drama that isn't about zombies). either way, it's october. should be watching scary stuff.

sweet, savory, or spicy: i like them all but i'm a savory gal at heart. i love desserts so much, and i like spicy food more than it likes me, but ultimately... pretzels make my world go 'round.

craving: OKAY SO LIKE. i wanted italian food, and then when i sat down this morning to make my dinner plans, i was like "meh... vegetables?" i am craving green things, but i ain't a quitter, so we're having salad and decadent pasta tonight. we're in a weird and not-good place this week, mentally and emotionally, that's my explanation.

tea or coffee: i like both. but ... i have coffee daily—latte, almond milk because i hate the environment or w/e obviously, no sugar—but tea is more infrequent as of late. i am a southerner through and through, tho, so i love sweet tea. that counts.

working on: everything and nothing, it feels like. grading papers. trying to stay on top of my reading list. writing grant applications. writing a historiography for my dissertation proposal. building a house for sims who haven't even been born yet. researching tattoos and testing them in cas. procrastinating revisions for my story outline. ruminating on the asks y'all've sent. whew.

tagging: anyone who wants to do it ! i think everyone i might've tagged has either done it or been tagged. but, uh, tag me so i can see your answers, if you haven't & want to.

[pype-r-morgan]

Stoner Witchcraft Blog Post #1

Amarok, Trickster Wolf Spirit:

and why FN Stories are often similiar but rarely the same

Warning: This post contains information about Chaotic and therefore; unpredictable Deities and Spirits. Do not approach these spirits without reason or they approach you as they did me.

Everything comes at a price - Anne Bishop

Dark Witchcraft is the path rarely followed

I found this on Pinterest randomly. I'm a Plains Cree living in Northern Canada, so some of these I'm familiar with different names and/or origin. Many stories do cross from tribe to tribe, so variations make it hard to find where they came from.

Most of these legends come from above the Arctic Circle. There are some that have travelled south and southwest - Orca and Wolf spirit have often been said to be both at once. What's interesting though, no one taught me that beforehand. I just figured it out based on the spirits being so similiar. Intelligent, loyal, family taught and orientated, pack hunters, harmless until they aren't. I actually (stoner me) missed that first time I looked at until now.

No... The spirit that grabbed my full attention was Amarok.

A lone giant Dire Wolf that'll either kill you or make you stronger. Chances are not in your favour if you cross one by accident. They're chaotic neutral, as most tricksters. They're gender neutral like most spirits, unless you're brave enough to check. They can speak, but rarely.

Amaroks fit right at home with my mixture of chaotic or neutral (usually both) Patrons.

Anubis

Lucifer

Loki

Amarok

Orca

Anubis is really the only voice of reason, Loki and Lucifer try to help... The Orca has been with me since a child in its wolf state, but living in a river town, I often dream of Orcas in fresh water.

Now, before anyone goes "name your source" first is wiki, second is my own experience, third is I'm one of the last generation raised as a traditional FN. My first language is Cree, and I grew up with many stories about different spirits, including several similiar but different creation stories.

I do talk to these Deities and spirits often. No, they are not beginner material and I don't encourage anyone to approach any of these Patrons. They will kick your ass if you fuck up badly enough, but they repay handsomely for loyalty, for a price.

These Deities came to me for my unusual compassion and empathy for those most forget about. I'll take extra suffering to prevent another. I'll sacrifice what means most to if it helps me regain myself and offers hope. This meant that despite wanting to hold on, I had to let go of the fact that, right now, I can't have a dog.

This year I had to give up two. My SDiT for snapping at a child, and a rescue that wasn't suited for my small place with no yard. My break up with my long term partner and Sir broke more than my heart. My big girl passed last year at 15.5 years. That when Anubis first came to me. Lucifer shortly after, and Loki the beginning of the year.

Amaroks ... Wolves in general don't scare me. I was the toddler who sat with the feral Rez dogs and got bit in the face, only to go back and leave that one alone.

It's not lack of fear; it's blending into whatever energy is needed. It's chaotic energy in raw form.

I just wanted to share this because I have a lot of stored witchcraft knowledge packed in my minds sacred space.

From tarot, mythology, cryptids, channeling, pop culture and witchcraft, music channeling, TV channeling, meditations, pet and animal magik, dark (not shadow) witchcraft, what is and isn't a familiar (yes, they can be physical form but their spirit will never leave you. Not all pets or even spirits make such an impression on the soul. I've been blessed with three in my life, my Hybrid directly connected me to Anubis and still holds place at his side.)

[sherunsfaster]

he's only inciting more concerns in her mind about his past, but she covers up her curiosity. maybe one day she would let him know that it was okay for him to be open with her about anything, but for now she would let it go. she wasn't entitled to his past and can only hope that he has found some peace separating himself from it. leah had started to heal from the toxicity pack life had been and the haunting guilt of her father's death just from joining jake's pack. despite playing guard dog to the leeches with the knowledge that sam's pack would kill them too if they had to, she had some happy moments for the first time in almost two years at that point. ❝ well i'm still here, even after you decided to wander into the forest after i told you not to. so i guess you'll have to up your dumb stuff game. ❞ it's meant as a joke, a hope to lighten the mood a bit and give him an easy out to stop reflecting on the past if he wants it.

a small wave of relief encompasses her to see him talk animatedly about his childhood. at least jamie did have some memories that he held fondly. ❝ look at us, finding more similarities between us buried in our cagey pasts. maybe if you're lucky i'll invite you over next time i make my dad's fish fry. everyone on the rez was itching for an invite to harry clearwater cookouts on those rare sunny saturdays. ❞ her smile reaches her eyes, already craving the food herself, though that's an easy feat for her metabolism.

❝ not boring. ❞ she laughs along, with a shake of her head. ❝ guess i'll have to see the cliffs for myself before i question your sanity though. the ones at home can be pretty tall and the water pretty choppy. ❞ the wolf pack definitely only added to the rumor mill when the guys had made jumping off the cliffs regardless of the weather their favorite way to pass the time.

“oh.” jamie laughed nervously, scratching the back of his neck to calm himself down when she explained that not every mistake had to be punished. that was definitely news to him. in a hollow attempt to sound like he didn’t grow up under the iron fist of an abuse father or sister he tagged on an, “right— i mean, i know that… just, you know the dumb stuff i did before i knew it was dumb, that stuff.” he only made it sound worse, but he convinced himself it sounded like knowledge rather than him suffering for merely existing in a home that was never welcome to him.

the mention of fishing drew his attention and an excited smile formed on his expressions, lighting up his eyes once more. “i used to fish with my brothers all the time growing up, we’d camp out down by the river and spend the days chasing the currents and everything swimming in them.” jamie smiled at leah again, wanting more and more to ask her more about herself. she was growing on him quickly like moss on rocks. everything she shared made him feel even closer to understanding their bond and the fact she didn’t view him as some evil creature who only focused on himself— it was new to him, to not have someone want to hang around without wanting something in return. she was becoming more important to him than he knew then.

he tossed his head back with a laugh and shrugged. “I have a healthy respect for the water just not for myself.” he joked. “what do you mean, are you calling me boring— don’t i give off a desperation for adrenaline and adventure?” he asked with another laugh.

[beansnpeets]

Aauuuggghhhh I am SO unimpressed with the lady that runs our local rescue.

She made some long, guilt trip-y post on FB today about how boo hoo they had to euth a dog because they had NO fosters available and nobody wanted to step up and apply to foster when she made the post a few days ago asking for a foster for him wah wah wah oh, but wait! She didn't actually euth the dog, she "dug deep into [her] pockets for a miracle" and he was saved, but she hopes reading this long post about how sad it would have been makes everyone feel bad enough to apply to foster!

Like yeah, it sucks when you can't save them all. It sucks having to euth a perfectly healthy and pleasant dog. But there are only so many homes and so many fosters and we really can't save them all. There are so many rez dogs in our area that wander off the rez and into towns and end up in the hands of animal control. We will NEVER be able to save them all. Even if every household could foster we would never save them all.

I get that she's trying to get people to foster, but Jesus Christ.

Part of why she can't get fosters and some animals stay in their care as long as they do is because SHE is so awful to work with and she has insane rules for who she adopts out to. If she took her head out of her ass she would have an easier time.

[im-the-punk-who]

WIP Wednesday (a day late and a dollar short)

Just a snippet from Tying Rockets to Shoe Strings that gives me a lot of feelings. LOOK AT THEM THEY’RE BABIES.

“How could I have been safer with him?” 

“I’m sorry.” It’s soft, and small, and he knows she means it. It doesn’t make it hurt any less. He walks out of the room, feeling numb and maybe a lot betrayed. He’d always hoped that his mother had a reason to leave him. That she hadn’t been able to take him with her even though she’d wanted to. Now, having that reason, he finds it doesn’t help and it just makes him feel hollow and bitter and empty. 

He wishes Michael was here. Not that it would help how he’s feeling. But being around Michael always just...helps. But Michael is three hours away and probably in class, so Alex just opens up his phone and stares at the screen - stares at the empty bars on the corner that signals the reception is as poor as always in the house. 

He walks out of the small building, not really intending to look for reception, just not wanting to be in the space. He makes his way over to the sheep, who are grazing with Mozzy and Ollie nearby. He gives both of the giant dogs a scratch behind the ears and sits down with them. Mozzy wanders closer, sitting next to him and leaning heavily against his side. 

“Thanks boy.” He murmurs. 

He isn’t sure how much time passes, but a faint buzz sounds in his pocket that pulls him out of the blank thoughts. It’s from Michael, and Alex almost drops the phone to read it.

Michael:

 <3 If I drive out to see you tonight is that totally pathetic?

Alex:

I could actually really use a night away from the Rez, I think. 

The circle indicating the message has sent hasn’t even disappeared from the screen when his phone starts buzzing again, this time with an incoming call. Alex slouches down to not risk losing the spotty reception and answers. 

“You okay?” Are the first words out of Michael’s mouth and Alex smiles , despite himself.

“Sort of. Mom...told me some stuff and I guess I’m processing.” The call isn’t super clear, but he’ll take what he can get. 

“I can be there in...two and a half hours.” 

Alex raises his eyebrow even though Michael can’t see him. But Michael apparently knows him too well, because he sheepishly adds. 

“I may already be on my way.” 

Alex laughs as affection bubbles up in his chest. Michael is ridiculous, but it goes a long way towards making him feel less alone, somehow. Knowing Michael was also missing him. 

--

When Michael pulls up to the house a few hours later, Alex has managed to wrangle his emotions enough to throw a change of clothes in his bag and let his mom know he would be with Michael for the night. She looks sad, and he feels bad about that. But she lets him go without a word. 

Michael doesn’t turn back towards Albuquerque though, instead heading out further into the desert. 

“Where are we going?” Alex asks as the truck bounces and jostles along the unpaved rock. 

“I don’t wanna just turn around and go back to class. I came out here to spend time with you, not my Chem201 textbook.” 

Alex looks away out the window, feeling a little bit vulnerable, like always, in the face of Michael’s honesty. It’s not an uncomfortable silence that follows - the bump and rattle of the truck over the terrain fills the void - but Alex can tell Michael wants to ask him something more. 

“What did your mom tell you?”

Alex lets out a breath he hadn’t been aware he was holding on a sigh.

“She said....” he trails off, looking out at the desert again. It seems so normal. Like nothing has ever been disturbed there, let alone something like radiation. Wasn’t that for nuclear waste dumps? “I asked her why she left me with my dad.” 

Michael tenses - Alex can feel it in the way the truck momentarily shifts sideways as the wheel locks up in his hands. But he doesn’t say anything, just waits for Alex to continue. It takes a while for the words to come.

“She said she didn’t take us because it wasn’t safe here - some bullshit about poison or something that has been killing her family. But she came here -” he trails off.

“Maybe she didn’t have anywhere else to go.”

“I didn’t either,” Alex shoots back, a little hurt that it seems like Michael is taking her side. 

“Hey, I know.” Alex looks over at the tone in Michael’s voice to see Michael looking at him. His eyes are wide and earnest, with that hint of mischief that seems like it’s ever present. Michael looks serious, but that twinkle won’t fucking go away. “Did she say what it was? It’s safe for you here, now, right?”

“She said the government fixed it. That it was from some radioactive mining project or something they did.”

“Wait, when was this? Did she say what caused the radioactivity?” 

“I don’t know. She said it killed my grandfather, though.”

“Alex...”

“I just...so I could have gotten sick. But at least maybe I wouldn’t be...I don’t know. Like this.”

“I like who you are.” Michael has stopped the truck and he unbuckles his seatbelt to turn towards Alex. “If she had taken you, we never would have met. And it’s not like...” “She could have kept in touch. Done...something. I was alone for so long.” Alex stares at his hands, clenching his fists against the anger. “I just wish I knew why she thought my dad was the better option.” 

Michael’s arms envelop his shoulders, and he feels Michael’s forehead rest gently against the side of his face. 

“It’s not that ... god I don’t know what I’d be doing if we’d never met.” Michael’s arms tighten briefly around him. “But I just wish he hadn’t had so much power over all of our lives.”

They sit in the truck, Michael’s arms around Alex, and Alex brings his hands up to grip the arm around his chest. It doesn’t make him any less angry, but it’s easier, somehow, to acknowledge all the thoughts swirling in his head. When he can just pretend he can hide in Michael’s arms.

“I hope...if we ever find your family. I hope they’re not as fucked up as mine.”

Michael laughs.

“That’s a pretty low bar.” It’s not unkind, and Alex laughs along with him. 

“You know, I used to be so obsessed with finding them. I’d spend every fucking night out in the desert looking for any clue of where they were. I felt like I’d never belong anywhere unless I was with them.”

“What changed?”

Michael pulls away and Alex turns to look into his eyes. The emotion there is one that Alex is starting to recognize as love, but that doesn’t mean he’s any less terrified of it.

“I met you.” 

And it feels like something is gripping his lungs and making it impossible to breath, at the implications of that. Michael continues, a wry, amused smile on his lips. 

“I guess, after that, it didn’t matter as much why they left me. Why they hadn’t come back. I didn’t need them to feel like I belonged, because I felt that with you.” He pauses. Alex looks out the windshield. “I guess...I don’t know. It sucks, that your dad is literally a murdering fuckhead and your mom left you with him. But...I guess I just don’t think it has to define you, y’know?”

[what-a-messsss]

1x9 rewatch

Yeeeee, this has Jacob and Mathias.  Good good.  ...It bothers me faaaar more than it should (which is to say, at all) that the episode title “Dogs, Horses and Indians” doesn’t have an Oxford comma.  Like, a lot.  o.o

Aaaaaahahaha, and here is Mathias being sneaky, sending Walt and Vic off to the northeast quadrant!  And I am once again confronted with my own double standard.  Because Mathias doing this has me kind of proud of him, but if Walt did it, I would be loading the solar catapult.  Hm.

Henry gives Walt so much leeway.  Mathias’ little dig at Henry about living on the Rez his whole life makes more sense to me now.  After all, Henry and Walt worked on oil rigs up in Alaska for at least part of their 20s according to later info.  That and him living above the Red Pony now, in Durant, make sense that there might be some added friction.

Wooooow.  Vic repeatedly said how weird it was that Mathias was being agreeable, so she just takes it upon herself to be even more of a jerk to balance things out?  Which... the heavy irony being that her “Maybe they didn’t want you running the investigation” crack is right, but also super wrong.  

Haa, the campaign advisor running “joke.” And Henry’s smiiiiile.

Oof.  Walt does not know the meaning of “tread lightly,” but again, he’s not wrong about this one.  Mathias did massively mess with the crime scene and muddle the investigation to a spectacular degree.  But Mathias is wily, and far more savvy about politics than Walt ever chooses to be.  And he’s right that he’s in an incredibly tight spot, and it’s not like he could have just asked for help.  Even if Walt had been inclined to help (haa), doing so would have totally undermined his credibility with the force and the tribe.

“Come on, Sheriff.  Can you look me in the eye and tell me you’ve never broke the law for the right reason?”  Matty, that’s his whooooole modus operandi.  As I think you well know.

I do wonder how long it’s been since Cady got her own place.  No judgement on her credit card statements still going there; one of my bills still ends up going to my mom’s despite attempts to change that, and it’s been over 5 years since I’ve lived with her.  But I do wonder.  

GOLF.  Baaahahaha, golf.  Of course the Connallys golf.  Barlow is suuuuuuuch a piece of shiiiiiit.  And of course he’s already leveraging favours and keeping track.  Oooo, but they do make it delightfully easy to hate him, and very satisfying, too.

NO, Walt, somebody being your deputy does not make their personal life your business.  Even when it involves your daughter.  Until either of them make it your business, it sure fucking isn’t.  And then the look on Branch’s face when Walt goes, “You... that’s a different story.”  Aaaah, back when Branch was vaguely sympathetic sometimes.  Ish.

Why... why does Walt charge in with no backup so often?  I guess just general self-destructive tendencies and all, but ffs.  He takes on a biker gang in their home territory with no back up.  On purpose.  He has no idea that the deputies have figured out where he is and are coming.  He just goes charging in and does some impressive damage, but if they hadn’t showed up when they did he’d be in traction or just flat out dead.  Exhausting.

I cannot for the life of me remember the actor’s name, but he’s in my head as Gabriel from the bit of time I did watch Supernatural.  He’s so squeaky new!  He’s such a rube.

I wonder how many ‘excessive force’ charges have been filed against Walt.  Probably not one in 20 times they could have been.  Ruby is not impressed.  And Vic is, as ever, an enabler.  Oooooo, Ruby just called him Walter.  She means business. Too bad he doesn’t give a shit about anything but what he wants.  ...I think I just figured out part of why Walt pisses me off so much.  That entitlement to do whatever the hell he wants and bother the rest rings really familiar from my dad.  Womp womp.  That can go on the list of things to talk about with the therapist.

Awwwww, Cady’s graduation photo on Henry’s desk!  He’s such a good second dad.  

I hadn’t thought about it the first time around, but @cminerva said something in one of our musings (that I think went into our joint fic) about Walt making Mathias come to him for things.  And here we are in the Red Pony, with Walt having had the Tribal Council brought to him, all 10 or so of them, rather than to go to them.  Which... that’s some fucked up power dynamic bullshit right there.  And they’re all sitting in a semi-circle, with Walt and Vic standing.  This is... so uncomfortable.  Crusty old white man scolds Tribal Council, literally standing there with his hands on his hips.  WITH HIS HAND ON HIS GUN--I fricking swear to gods, Walt, what the flaming hell.

Yeeeeeee, Jacob.  He’s so fluffy.  The sides of his hair are so long.  This is a delight.  Ok, but can I just take a moment with the fact that Jacob bought Eaglestar’s debt?  From a cynical point of view, it could be to make sure that he had the president of the tribal council effectively in his pocket, and there was probably an element of that.  But I do genuinely believe that as much of a pragmatist as he is, Jacob is a thwarted optimist.  When he says, “Because I bought his debt.  ...I wanted to make sure no one could influence his decisions, no one could force him to act against his own judgment,” that he’s telling the truth.  “He may have had demons, but he was his own man.”  I think that he probably hopes the same for himself.

Cady’s faaaace when Walt gets back and is ignoring the excessive force charge.  Officially one of my favourite moments of the whole show now.  Yus.  The sheer lack of respect that Walt has for his daughter. Blatant lack of respect for her and her expertice.  Yeet him into the sun, I’m telling you.

Who she sleeps with is not about you, you jackass.  This is such a good scene for her as an actor.  And such a bad scene for him as a dad.  He’s such a bad father.  Which makes me about 400x more grateful that she basically has Henry as her Other Dad.  Who does not suck as much.  Damn.

Mmmmm, Henry’s glasses make a return.

Vic’s “don’t shit where you eat” is pretty rich, considering her multi-year boner for her boss, and then actually getting together with him.  

I’m pretty ridiculously gone on Jacob.  He walks back in at the end the ep and my sad little heart just goes pitter patter.  I’d sort of forgotten that he doesn’t meet the blood-quantum requirements.

“Not cynical.  Just suspicious.”  No, no, suspicious aaand cynical.  You’re mighty good at multitasking on the shitty stuff, Walt.  The accusations he levels at Jacob are so utterly circumstantial, so completely without any shred of proof to back them up, but we’re still in the early days of the show, where we’ve seen him spin these “here’s what happened” things had seen them pan out, that the audience is inclined to believe him.  Walt also has a tendency to complicate things.

If Jacob was setting up dominoes behind the scenes, the convoluted mess that Walt postulates still doesn’t really make sense.  It would make more sense for Jacob to buy Malcolm’s debt in the hopes that he would possibly feel indebted or otherwise favourable towards him to not pass the blood-quantum resolution in the first place.  Arranging a convoluted murder to get himself a place on the council when there are clearly election anyway is just... not clean, not smart, and too liable to go wrong.  Jacob is careful and while he prefers delegating, a total wild card like Mika would be a huge risk for something that could blow up in his face so spectacularly.  Walt, you make no sense.  Como siempre.

This scene at the end with Branch and Cady reinforces my theory that Branch desperately wanted anything positive from Walt.  “He’ll get over it.”  “Yeah, with you.  You’re his daughter.  But me?”  And that’s kind of gutting for him.  So he squares up and off he goes.

“And I’m no quitter.”  No, you’re a drama llama.  Sheesh.

[all-cursed]

Meet my first OC to have a specific fandom they’re attached to!

So I’ve never created an OC specifically for the universe of a show before, they’ve always been fandomless, but I was excited to create one for Wynonna Earp. I’m going to give him a proper page on the muse list as well as give everyone more detailed biographies eventually, but for now, this should work.

DISCLAIMER: to anyone who may have concerns, please know that I myself am Native American (Blackfoot and Cherokee), and did a lot of research while creating this character to make sure I do them justice and create an actual Native character that isn’t just a stereotype. Some parts that might seem stereotypical - such as the name this character chooses to go by - just comes with the modern era the universe is set in and the character’s own reasons. Several of the struggles he faces as well are specifically chosen because I hope to raise awareness in some small ways to the struggles that IPOC face even today. None of it is meant to be fetishising or stereotypical - some of it just exists in that space as an unfortunate reality.

Alright! Here we go.

                                                       [    i.    STATS   ]

NAME.  meecha wo’i  " crow "  redwolf .   

AGE.  23 as of 1x01 .

DOB.  nov 29th ,  1993 .

GENDER. gender-indifferent cis male  :   prefers he/him or they/them pronouns .

PREF. pansexual but has a preference for men and nonbinary individuals 

SPECIES.  human ,  witch  ,   skinwalker .

RESIDENCE.  the  ghost  river  triangle  .

OCCUPATION. former cashier ; former lead guitar in an up and coming rock band ; current bartender . 

ETHNICITY. in simple terms: native american. specifically: hopi and creek. some scottish but not by much. 

 [    ii.    INTROSPECTION    ]

POSITIVE TRAITS.   curious ,   adaptable ,  perceptive ,   creative ,   passionate ,   loyal ,   perseverant , open-minded , compassionate .

NEUTRAL TRAITS.  persuasive ,   withdrawn (at first; nervous about other’s intentions) ,   secretive , free-wheeling .

NEGATIVE TRAITS.  temperamental ,   unrestrained ,  spiteful ,   reckless ,   capricious ,   hedonistic .

DISLIKES.  sounds of traffic or loud machinery in general &  the sound of metal on metal &  the smell of cheap perfume/cologne &  hot weather &  dust  &  houseflies &  being told (instead of asked) what to do &  rap music &  wool scarves &  fluorescent lights &  lack of hygiene &  orange flavoured candies/sodas/anything that’s not an actual orange &  deep dark waters he can’t see the contents of &  mistreatment of animals &  having assumptions made about him  &  mathematics &  onions &  football  .

LIKES.  the scent and sound of rain &  physical touch &  candles , lighters , and controlled flames in general &  the smell of cedar , pine , and the forest &  music and playing musical instruments &  italian food &  raving about attractive people with others; intoxication is a bonus &  leather; wearing it and the smell of it &  glasses clinking together &  late night talks &  stargazing &  drawing / sketching &  records and record players &  animals &  'stealing’ and wearing the clothes of people he’s close with &  running &  card games &  dancing and singing & creating something out of nothing &  getting the last word .

HOBBIES. drawing &  singing and playing instruments &  exploring / learning as many places as they can like the back of their hand & people watching  &  drinking and bar hopping &  seeking pleasure and adventure wherever he can find it & collecting random things he enjoys / likes .

WEAKNESSES. he’s standoffish until he knows he can trust a person and can come off rude or aloof  & the inability to let go of most grudges &  his tendency to follow his desires and his heart before logic or his mind  &  impulsivity when emotional .

STRENGTHS. independence and ability to function and thrive alone (even if he would prefer to have company it is not mandatory) &  ability to be resourceful and adapt to new situations quickly &  handles time-sensitive situations well due to his tendency to act quick and think later &  stubbornness to stick to a task and see it through &  quick thinking &  agility and speed of inhuman proportions (thanks to his less than human side) .

HABITS. clicking his teeth together repeatedly when annoyed &  flexing  fingers & playing with his hair in absentminded / lazy moments &  silently staring at someone when he’s done with a conversation until they catch the hint and stop talking  &  if there’s music playing within earshot he always ends up swaying to the beat  &  will often make less than human sounds (growls, etc.) when angry if he doesn’t catch himself .

EDUCATION. average  student  throughout  elementary ,  middle &  high  school .  graduated with an equally average gpa of 3.0 , &  decided against college, choosing to seek education in less typical places .  fed up with his family and much of the treatment of his peers, he began to learn magic from a witch he met on one of his regular trips to wander the ghost river triangle and explore & learnt magic and about the more mystical parts of purgatory - ultimately becoming a skinwalker via the witch’s guidance and training .

[  iii. APPEARANCE  ]

FACECLAIM.  booboo stewart . 

HEIGHT.  5 ' 8 " ,  though when able to he wears combat boots that add a few inches to his height . 

EYES.  a very keen and observant hazel when he’s in human form .   when shifting , eye colour can range from yellow to red to green to blue depending on many factors - location , how far he shifts , etc .  always alert and bright unless intoxicated or in very rough shape emotion-wise . often wishes they were green or grey and has considered wearing contacts to change his eyes (human-wise) to those colours.

EYEBROWS.   defined  arch  but not so much so that it’s dramatic .  not too thin and not too bushy , and naturally neat - he rarely has to tend to them and usually only does so to shave a tiny slit or two through them as a stylistic choice .

HAIR.  long and dark ;  sleek with an ever so slight wave to it .  typically worn either down or in a loose ponytail , occasionally sections are braided .  falls just a few inches above his ribcage .  every so often he’ll dye streaks into his hair but has never dyed his whole head .

SCARS.  many . he has a variety of smaller scars from a rowdy childhood; a few faint ones on his hands and arms from scratches borne of cats and dogs . the typical scars that come from falling off bicycles or off swings ; scraped knees and cuts on chins . his forearms especially are covered in scars he prefers not to speak of .  there’s a scar on his forehead from a fight with his cousin as well as a few long scars on his back .

DRESSING STYLE.  it varies depending upon mood and whatever job he has at the time . especially fond of punk / alternative styles , likes leather , and enjoys the comfort of loose and flowing garments. whatever style he happens to choose at any given time , he wears well and somehow always manages to draw attention - whether from the jewelry he accessorises with (varieties of bracelets and cuffs , rings , pendants with gems , etc.)

LIPS.  naturally  full ,  scar at the right corner of his lip , occasionally  sore or split when he goes through anxious phases and tends to chew at his lips .

SKIN.   smooth , tanned . he doesn’t have much body hair , a fact that doesn’t tend to bother him much. he rarely engages in a skincare routine and much like his eyebrows generally stays neat and well-kempt without much effort . does not wear much makeup but enjoys eyeliner from time to time . if not for his skin tone, the dark circles beneath his eyes would be much more visible .

CHEEKS.  defined cheekbones ,   not easily flushed .  sports the occasional scars due to nervous picking when he was younger.

[  iv. ABILITIES  ]

LANGUAGES SPOKEN. english  [ fluent ] ,  hopi  [ conversational &  spellwork language ] , spanish  [ conversational ] .

THREAT LEVEL.  mediocre  to  high .

WEAPONS.  fairly efficient in his understanding of magic and can easily hold his own with either combative or defensive magic ,  but prefers when possible to rely on his own physical skills ; is proficient in hand to hand combat thanks to the speed , agility , and strength bequeathed upon him by his skinwalker nature . very skilled in knifeplay , whether throwing or up close . has little to no practise with firearms as of 1x01 . 

MAGIC. magic learnt by his mentor was primarily elemental based and neutral in that it could easily be manipulated for defensive or offensive ; he was never extremely proficient and left before he could complete his training so he is still learning his limits and the heights he can reach , and wants to branch out . as for the magical abilities granted by his status as skinwalker - he is able to shapeshift , which saps him of certain levels of energy that depend upon what creature he takes the shape of . he is also granted higher than average speed, agility, and strength because of this which he keeps with him even when not shifting.

 [  v. DETAILS  ]

➣➣ he was born in georgia originally to a loving but struggling mother and father - his mother was hopi and his father was creek, and while both parents had originally lived on their own respective reservations, they had met one another by chance during a trip and fallen in love, eventually deciding to seek out their own home outside of the reservations. his parents loved him but struggled financially; eventually his mother’s sister offered to take him in. as that was the better option rather than the three of them becoming homeless, crow’s parents sent him to live with his aunt in arizona on the rez. while they stayed in touch, his parents needed to stay in georgia, and as such he only would see them on the occasional holiday.

➣➣ while his aunt meant well, his cousins were another story. living with his aunt and uncle would have been fine had it not been for their two children; a son and daughter who constantly bullied him behind their backs for not being pure hopi as they were, often harassing him about being a ‘halfbreed’. a quiet boy at heart to boot, he faced bullying in school as well all the way through high school. his cousins, in tenth grade, snooped in his room and found his journal - which they used to out him as pansexual to the school.

➣➣ the moment he graduated, he spent as much time off the rez as possible, avoiding his cousins. on one of his frequent trips to simply explore nearby cities and towns, he found himself in purgatory. one drunken night led to following a mysterious woman into the woods. as it turned out, she was a witch. intrigued and excited at the idea of learning magic and having a way to defend himself, he quickly took her up on her offer to teach him. after a few months, she let him in on her secret - she was a skinwalker.

➣➣ she talked up how powerful she was because of it, and how no one would ever hurt her again. the more he heard about it, the more he wanted it. still unhealed from the way he was treated growing up and too caught up in the concept of never having to be beneath someone ever again, he agreed to let her hold the ceremony that would make him one as well without thinking of the consequences. when she told him that the final task he needed was to kill a family member... he almost faltered but agreed and went back to the rez. 

➣➣ he almost didn’t do it. it was night when he returned, and he could see his male cousin drinking on the porch. the concept of killing someone - even someone like his cousin who had treated him so poorly - was daunting. he might have changed his mind had his cousin not seen him arriving and was immediately being malicious; using homophobic slurs and accusing crow of having run off with a lover, talking about how disgraceful it was. and it all was a blur from there.

➣➣ bringing back a lock of his cousin’s hair to the witch, she finished the rituals and he became the creature she had promised - powerful but at what cost? still wrought with guilt despite having made the ultimate choice, crow left the forests on the outskirts of purgatory where he had been training and into the ghost river triangle itself, unable to go home after what he did and unable to stomach facing the witch. living out of his truck, he went from odd job to odd job, eventually landing a stable job as a cashier at a grocery store. around this time he chose to begin going by the name crow - both to distance himself from his past, and because if someone were to want to control or destroy him now as a skinwalker, they could do so if they knew his true, personal name. as such, a nickname seemed the safest bet. 

➣➣ fastforward to present day (1x01). after a few years of cashiering and attempting to rent rooms and apartments without success, as well as a stint playing guitar for an up and coming rock band, crow landed a job as a bartender at one of the local bars and instead of attempting to rent rooms or apartments, ended up moving into the trailer park. it was sketchy to say the least, but he couldn’t afford anything fancy and clearly didn’t handle having roommates well. a trailer seemed like the next best thing, outside of living in the woods or in his truck. his tendency to mind his own business and expect that of others meant that he mingled with normal purgatory residents and the revenants equally, pursuing his hedonistic nature as he pleased. which was all well and good, until things began to get... a lot more chaotic due to a curse and an heir he had originally had no knowledge of. 

               [ MORE TO COME THROUGHOUT                                               CHARACTERIZATION DEVELOPMENT ]

[grimmseye]

A Bird in the Hand: Chapter Seven

Read on Ao3 here!

Rating: M

Fandom: Critical Role

Relationships: Mollymauk Tealeaf/Essek Thelyss, Mollymauk Tealeaf/Essek Thelyss/Caleb Widogast (eventual)

Chapter Characters: Mollymauk Tealeaf, Essek Thelyss, The Mighty Nein

Chapter Tags/Warnings: Molly Rez, Amnesiac Mollymauk, Oh My God They Were Roommates, Essek’s Ex-Catholic tendencies, Non-explicit sexual content and discussion, (Sexual content is not between main characters sorry)

— — —

Messages from the Nein — more specifically, from Jester — always brought with them a sense of dread. Any amount of joy or amusement or frustration he felt at her jabbering in his mind could always be accompanied by the undercurrent of foreboding as he remembered exactly what he had done. Sometimes he grew convinced they'd found out, a spiral of paranoia leaving him sick and shaking and running through contingencies as madly as a demon's thrall —

Counterspell for Caleb, though maybe Jester would earn it first. They would be the ones to harm him with magic. Caduceus would have to be put down swiftly, an illusion might be enough to hold him in place but then he wouldn't be able to handle the rest — Yasha would fall easily to control, he didn't know her as well and wouldn't suffocate on his guilt if he pried her mind apart and made her into a puppet one more time, trained that sword upon the rest — though again, maybe that was best reserved for Caleb, even if he was likely to shrug it off with the same teachings Essek had faced to turn that fire against his friends had nearly been the end of them before —

No, running would be his best option. Running, hiding. A spell to hold them still or stunned to grant him his escape. Alone, Essek could maybe pick a few of them off, but at the end of the fight he would be dead on the ground. It was best if he just ran.

And now he had someone to take with him just in case they tracked him down.

But every time it was just Jester's voice, overly-friendly as she always was, and the panic calmed into confusion or mirth or exasperation, all depending on the day. Today the dread remained, as he slipped down the stairs to where Mollymauk was lounging across the floor, scratching images onto paper with his tongue half poked out between his teeth. His gaze lifted to Essek's approach, tail curling up into the air. It was a hello, he'd determined, remembering how Jester's did the same.

"The Nein are going to be returning," Essek told him.

It was a curious range of emotions that darted across Mollymauk's face, and none of them looked good. When Mollymauk did not fill the silence, Essek continued, "I am going to be teleporting them to their next destination. It is a visit, not an extended stay."

The silence continued, Mollymauk sitting upright but not speaking, his tail coiling over the floor. Essek hesitated for a moment, then asked, "Do you want me to tell them you're here?"

It was enough to get Molly's gaze to refocus. "That's an option?" He raised his eyebrows.

"Not forever," Essek gave a wan smile. "But for now, if you do not feel ready to meet them again, you do not have to."

"Huh." He puffed out a breath, laying back down in time with the exhale, until he was splayed out across the rug and staring up at the ceiling. "Maybe. Yeah, you know what? Let's call that the plan until I say otherwise."

"Just be sure to tell them you wanted this when they do find out," Essek said, with dry humor. "I do not want them to think I've lied to them." And certainly not to know.

Time was running low. The exchange approached, and then it would be over. The mystery could fade, never to be solved. The Nein didn't need to know, and would never find out. Eventually the guilt would fade. There was hope on the horizon, but he had expected the feeling to be much warmer than he found it.

"They will be here soon," Essek added, after a beat. "It will take a while to complete the circle and travel across the city, but —"

"You won't even know I'm there." Mollymauk rolled over to get to his hooves, gathering up his supplies — they'd made a run to an art store to get more materials for his cards.

With Mollymauk gone, it left Essek in pensive silence as he waited on the Nein. Once upon a time, he'd planned to call in a favor or three, send them in a few separate directions to throw them and anyone else off his trail, use the idiots who'd thrown a wrench in his plan to put the pieces back into place. It would be smart, to cover his tracks, to let them believe the trail had gone cold. Now, he couldn't bear to further his own deception. He made empty threats, promising some dreadful task with no intention of following through. At this point the farce was embarrassing to keep up.

It would be over soon. He only needed to wait for the Peace Talks to conclude. Ideally, whatever they were doing now would eat up the time left over, let them trudge back home to where Essek could finally breathe in the same room as them, to where he had their friend safe and sound, to a brand new day where the past could be left to rot and Essek could —

— what? Sever himself from the Assembly? Impossible. He'd already done too much to break ties now. If he turned his back on their research, then what was the point of any of this? And if he couldn't turn his back, then the deceptions would continue. He would betray the Nein, again and again and again, each new falsehood tightening the noose he'd placed around his own neck.

Ice-cold dread splashed down his back. He clasped a hand to his mouth, wheezing through his shaking fingers. Then what, his mind demanded. Then what?

When the Nein arrived, Essek had cleaned himself up, his guilt and his panic sealed behind a cool facade. They came in their usual whirlwind of chaos, and he wondered if Mollymauk was listening in as they chattered among themselves, talking over each other and at him as always, a trait that had gone from infuriating to only a mild annoyance. Any time their jabbering grew to be too much, spiked anger in his chest, some part of his heart reminded him that he liked these people, and the resentment couldn't take hold.

"Hey. Hey." It was Beauregard's abrasive voice that broke him from his thoughts. She lifted a quizzical eyebrow. If there was anyone to be wary of, aside from Caduceus, it was her. Her eyes were dangerously sharp. "You get stuck up there?" She asked, pointing upwards.

Essek looked up, pausing for a long moment. He knew he was wrong even as he asked, "Upstairs?"

"No the — the sky, the clouds, you know." She waved a hand. When Essek didn't grant her an inch, she blustered, "Head in the clouds? Stuck with your head in — never mind." She deflated with a sigh. Rubbing her temples, Beau said, "You're being weird, what's up with that?"

And that was exactly why he was wary of her.

It would be safest to just brush it off. He could blame it on a project, on stress, on other responsibilities. That would be safe, that would be smart, but curiosity, as always, was present to drag him down.

"Something you asked a while ago stuck with me, that's all," Essek told her. He brushed his hair up and back, out of his face. "Nott asked me about a — Lucien? Molly?" He struggled not to tack the mauk onto the end. It had been Jester who gave that name, hadn't it? Molly had a cult.

He should probably ask Mollymauk about said cult.

It took Essek a moment to notice the others had gone quiet. A few of them looked to Yasha, whose fingers were squeezed tight around her own arms.

Of course. He instantly realized how idiotic he'd been — they still thought Mollymauk was dead.

"Yeah," Beau said, with the kind of casual tone that was audibly forced. He didn't know the details of Mollymauk's death, not even how long ago it had been, but the Nein had arrived without him quite some time ago. They'd likely grown used to the sting, even if the tension in Beau's body was unmistakeable. "He used to travel with us, and then one day he died. Was killed. He — yeah. You know something?" She glared, defensive in the same manner as a dog that bared its teeth when it was hurt.

Essek ignored the question. "I just wondered who he was," he murmured, voice soft. "I... apologize if I've stumbled onto a sore subject."

If anything, it was just tense. They hadn't seemed to mind the conversation much when they brought it up, but it seemed that from an outsider, the question was ill received.

"He was..." Veth piped up with some hesitance. "Kind of a dick, honestly?" , It sent a ripple through the Nein. Yasha tensed, the rest looking torn between amusement and discomfort. "He'd make people squirm on purpose and had a lot of sex when he was rooming with Fjord." Her voice took on a hesitant laugh. "Like. A whole lot —"

"Yes, yes, but let's not speak ill of the... departed." Fjord's interjection petered into something soft. "He was a friend, you know."

"Of course!" Veth gave him a halfhearted glare. "I know that, obviously! I loved him as much as the rest of you. He was an — an asshole, and the fact he's dead makes us all act like that isn't true. But I loved him." Her shoulders sagged. "He danced with me, remember? That was fun."

The silence stretched. It was, of course, Jester who broke it in the end, with a bright, "Molly knew things!" Even through her cheer, there was a watery quality to her smile, while Beau winced. "When we first met, he told my fortune. Look!" She whisked a hand into her back, pulling out a deck of cards. She fanned them out for Essek to see, revealing that they were incomplete, most of them still blank. Several held a different art style from the rest, and the imagery presented made it easy for Essek to guess she'd picked up the legacy. Her art was actually quite impressive when she wasn't desecrating holy sites. "He made these himself!" She beamed. "He was — he was still making them — he —"

Essek's heart jumped. Her smile was broad, but tears were welling up in her eyes as she spoke, her voice starting to crack. He floundered, a hand lifting and hesitating in the air. Beauregard was already sweeping forward, putting an arm around her shoulders to pull her close.

"He was full of shit and every other word out of his mouth was a fucking lie," Beau bit out. "But he made people happy. And then he died." She clenched her jaw. "And I'm sure he's lording it over us somewhere."

The truth had become a jagged thing. It wasn't such an easy secret to hold onto now, barbed with thorns and drawing blood. Not his own, but theirs, it wrapped tight around their throats and threatened to slice. So Essek held his tongue, watching as the Nein recovered from the hurt he'd returned to them. Yasha turned and left, Jester breaking away from Beau to give chase. The rest remained in place, and Essek's gaze panned past Caduceus and to the other one of them who hadn't said a thing — to find Caleb with his eyes shut as he ground his thumb against his forehead.

There was the impulse to question again, wanting Caleb's opinion. What did he think of the tiefling, as ostentatious as he was, far too bright and too loud and yet...

The question would be out of place. And it was inane, regardless. The Nein clearly loved him. There was no reason to question their deeper bonds. But gods if he didn't want to know what the two of them had looked like side by side.

A flush rose to his cheeks, half embarrassment and half outright shame. Whatever depraved curiosity had seized him, this was not the time for it, when he'd just reawakened his friends' grief. It was wrong. And gods help him, Essek wanted to be better for them.

But he couldn't be. Not yet, and maybe not ever. That was something to calculate later. For now, it was just another feeble tally in paying back his debt to them all, as he gathered them up to whisk them away. Whatever he earned was nullified at once, with Jester spending paints of magic beyond even the best conjuration caster, just to make him a parasol. She could use those to open holes in reality, and she had wasted her paint to shield his eyes from the light.

Essek returned home with a burning in his eyes, and he wished it was thanks to the sun.

Working with the Cerberus Assembly did not mean Essek liked them. In return, he knew all too well they did not like him.

They needed each other, however. Mutually assured destruction was an excellent motivator. So as scheduled, Essek strode to the full length mirror in his bedroom. He'd locked and warded the room, so that no sound could pass beyond that door, no nosy tieflings could stick a hairpin in the lock. What Mollymauk was even doing wasn't of much concern right now, not when he'd spent the day scrambling through his reports to make sure he had all the right details in place, what to offer and what to withhold, what questions to ask as well.

The stern form of Ludinus Da'leth shimmered into view. As usual, Essek's gaze was drawn to his eyebrows, elaborately shaped caterpillars that they were. He missed the man's greeting entirely, but offered one of his own, coolly polite.

It was little more than the usual exchange of information. "I will be meeting you as usual, in the guise of Dezran Thain," Essek said, as they'd already established half a dozen times before.

"Yes, yes," Ludinus sighed. "We are all quite aware of the plan by this point. Do not mess it up, Thelyss."

Essek's gaze was cold. "Thus far my pieces of the operation have run perfectly. I've had no annexes gallivanting with demon cults thus far."

Ludinus' face pinched, to his gratification. "I'm sure there is much you could tell me about demon cults," he returned, and Essek hated to feel his lips peel back in a snarl. He schooled his expression, fingers curling into fists beneath his robe.

"After all," Ludinus continued, "you reported attacks by gnolls within the city."

Essek paused, then frowned. "How did you know that?

"Previously, we had seen similar activity in the Empire," Ludinus reported, "though not nearly so dramatic. We have good reason to believe they may be followers of Yeenoghu."

It wasn't really an answer, Essek noted, but let it slide. Yeenoghu was the demon prince of hunger, worshiped primarily by gnolls. Some even believed that gnolls were all demons sent by him to the Material Plane, but some also believed drow all worshiped Lloth. It would, unfortunately, explain the near-feral behavior of Xhorhasian citizens. The Nein had been dealing with demons — or at least fiends — for a long time, after all.

"Regardless, it's being handled," was all Essek said, getting a grunt in return. "If that is all?"

"It is. Farewell."

The mirror blurred an instant later, before returning to a reflective surface. Essek stared at himself, stiff and clean and not a hair out of place, and let out a long groan as he rested his forehead against the glass.

And then what.

He couldn't cut ties with the Assembly. He couldn't admit his sins to the Nein. So then what. One side was going to go up in flames and burn the other with it, and where did that leave Essek except as a wretched creature, sobbing that he'd been burned after reaching into the fire.

Returning Mollymauk was not going to relieve his guilt. He knew that. The lie had been a pleasant fantasy while it lasted.

Essek stepped away, taking a glance at the clock. The entire day had slipped by in a blink, and he hadn't eaten a thing. Nor had he heard from Mollymauk. Perhaps they could find a place to sit down and eat dinner, with Essek too tired to cook and too hungry to wait.

Mollymauk was not in the house. The suspicion settled in when he checked the tiefling's bedroom and the living room, and then the kitchen for good measure, and didn't find so much as a spaded tail. It was when he'd trekked around the house calling for him that Essek felt dreaded confidence take hold: Mollymauk had left.

A string of curses followed Essek out the door. He grabbed a lock of fur out of his bag, burning it to ash as he cast his senses out for Mollymauk's presence. The ley lines that twined through the air reverberated in response, empty of his target.

The cabbie he hired was more than a little confused at Essek's request, but happy to comply for the pay it would earn him. They marched up and down the streets of Xhorhas, combing through that web strand by strand. The spell ran out and he cast it again, irritation building at the sheer waste of magic. It only spiked when the spell reacted to its target.

The spell picked up on Mollymauk within a crowded bar. Essek grimaced as he handed over a handful of coin, waiting for the cabbie to trot away before he burned yet another spell. A drow who did not look nor dress like Essek Thelyss walked inside with a sour look on his face, eyes cast about the bar in search of the easiest person to find.

Mollymauk stuck out, but the tones of his skin actually gave him a vague chance at blending in. Searching for tails wouldn't do him much good, as some elves did have them, tufted instead of spaded at their tips, so it was horns Essek looked for instead.

He found the tiefling at a booth of the bar, seated in the lap of an elf with a hand rested on his cheek. There was a woman at his side, leaning against the first elf to murmur something in his ear, the two speaking conspiratorially as Mollymauk's smile grew broader, leaning away from the man to catch the female elf's lips.

It was a filthy kiss. Essek could see their tongues, an outraged blush rising on his cheeks. He twirled a wire tight around his forefinger, hissing, "Mollymauk, what in the hells are you doing?"

Molly's head twitched. Essek voice was a growl as he added "You can respond in a whisper."

The tiefling relaxed back into the lap of the male elf, tipping his head back on his shoulder and toying with his hair. "I'm having fun. You're free to join." By the movement of his head, Essek knew he was searching the bar. His eyes slid over Essek, not recognizing the disguise. "Where are you?"

"Looking directly at you."

It took a beat for their eyes to lock. Molly smiled, murmured something to his companions, and gave them each a kiss on the lips before sauntering his way across the bar and towards Essek. "I didn't think you were the type!" He grinned. "If I'd known, I would have invited you."

"I'm not," Essek said, voice terse. "I was looking for you because you left without saying a word."

"And you can just track me down?" He looked alarmed at first, then just sighed. "Fucking wizards. Well, apologies for the scare, Mister Thelyss, I'll be sure to at least leave a note next time, yeah?" He cocked an eyebrow.

"You should not be here at all," Essek hissed. Mollymauk's brow furrowed. "Aside from the blatant danger of a tiefling wandering around the city, it's depraved."

Molly blinked at him. "Huh," he said. "You're full of surprises today, Mister Thelyss. It's a little depraved, sure, but it's not bad."

"That —" Essek drew a breath and let it out with a huff. He'd been taught to be careful with such contact. Representing Den Thelyss meant having all eyes on him. Any amount of childish irresponsibility would be seen and remembered. "That is fair," Essek admitted, before his voice sharpened again. "I misspoke, but I still will not have you bringing some..." He waved a hand, "venereal disease back to my home. I am not paying a cleric because you played with the wrong person."

"Fucked," Mollymauk corrected. "Had sex with. Let's use our adult words." He gave a smirk, and in that moment Essek rather disliked Mollymauk Tealeaf. His glower must have translated, because the tiefling put up his hands a moment later, "But, alright. I'll be safe about it, pinky swear."

He dropped one hand, sticking the little finger out on the other. Essek just stared at him until Mollymauk gave a, "Oh for the love of — seriously?" Then he grabbed Essek's hand, bending his pinky up to hook them together. "Pinky swear! Like this! I didn't even have a childhood and I know what this is!"

"I didn't have much of one, either," Essek frowned. "I know what it is, but it seems... inane."

"Gods, you're so sad," Mollymauk breathed, looking aghast. "Are you sure you don't want to come back with me? You need to relax, and they like group stuff —"

"I am fine," Essek hastily interjected. "Thank you, Mollymauk, but I am quite fine."

"What if it was just me, then?"

The offer was stunningly sincere. It was blunt and honest, a genuine question, Mollymauk meeting his gaze with his head tipped to the side.

Essek swallowed.

Did he want to kiss Mollymauk Tealeaf? Yes, far too much. He wanted more than he should, and not just from Mollymauk himself. But it would be wrong, wouldn't it, when Mollymauk's mind was still piecing itself together, when everything Essek presented of himself was deception.

So he said, "No." And Mollymauk just shrugged, seeming perfectly unbothered. "But —" He sighed. He knew his irritation was born of jealousy, and now that he'd just turned down exactly what he wanted, he had no leg to stand on. "Just keep it subtle along with safe, please. I have a reputation, and you are beginning to extend to it. If the Shadowhand is seen with a tiefling with a reputation for being..." He grasped for a word.

"Slutty?" Molly suggested.

"Promiscuous," Essek said. "It will reflect badly."

Mollymauk stretched his arms over his head, and Essek decidedly did not look at how his muscles flexed with the motion. "Alright," he shrugged, going lax again. "That's a tall order, Mister Thelyss, but I'll see what I can do."

"You will?" He blinked.

Molly gave him a bemused look. "Yeah? You asked, so, sure."

"Fjord said you were a terrible roommate," Essek said. "You would invite people into your shared room without his input."

"Hey, he never asked me to stop! I think." Molly pondered it for a moment before seeming to give it up. "Ah, whatever. At the very least I'm respecting your wishes this time."

Essek shook his head, rubbing the bridge of his nose. "I suppose that will have to do."

"So if we're done...?" Mollymauk looked expectantly, and Essek sighed as he waved his dismissal. He watched the tiefling rejoin his partners, sinking back into the booth, and turned away before he could witness anything unsavory.

His life had become a stack of contradictions. The Nein were his friends, and yet he betrayed them at every turn. He wanted nothing to do with the Assembly and yet couldn't sever his ties. He wanted... something from Mollymauk Tealeaf, and refused it when it was offered. Essek's heart was heavy as he made his way home, the house quiet and empty and yawning.

Today, he was jealous of the other peoples of Exandria. Humans and halflings and tieflings, nearly anyone who wasn't an elf, they got the luxury of sleep at the end of the day. At least they could escape their thoughts when they rested.

[littlemisswolfie]

it’s really not that fair

Part four of this bullshit. Here we go.

Bella worries at her bottom lip with her teeth and taps her pencil on the hard plastic desk. A few of her classmates glare at her and she knows she’s being annoying, but it’s Friday, and that means Leah’s picking her up from school.

That is, if the damn clock will ever move.

It’s a little ridiculous, how much Bella misses her. She’d snuck into Bella’s room the night before (just like she had every night since the imprint) and woken her up with a soft kiss before she left this morning, so it’s been at most, like, nine hours. But it still feels like a little part of Bella is missing, and there’s a tug in her chest that goes towards LaPush, towards Leah.

From what the pack can tell, Victoria’s backed off since she realized Bella was under their protection. This suits Bella just fine, because she has enough on her plate, what with graduation coming up, with the imprint, with Leah. She’s just glad she already has her college situation figured out.

Neither Charlie nor Renee were thrilled with her decision to take classes online, but it’s for the best. Her GPA suffered a major hit when she was so depressed, after all, and most places she could have applied to were already closed to applications when she was suddenly reminded of her steadily approaching graduation date a few weeks ago. Her other reason, which had gone unspoken to her parents, is Leah. 

Bella knows it’s generally a bad idea to base one’s college decisions around their significant other, but the imprint complicates things. She’s sure she could go away, but it would be painful, both for her and for Leah. And there’s no way Leah could come with her due to tribal issues; her status as a protector to the tribe overrules any other obligations she has. Sam could let her go, but he’s not in any position to go against Old Quil and Billy.

So Leah has to stay. And so Bella will, too.

The bell finally, finally rings, and Bella gathers up her books and shoves them in her backpack as quickly as she can. Her body thrums, and she knows it’s because Leah is in the parking lot, waiting for her. 

In the desk next to her, Angela laughs. “What’re you in such a rush for, Bella?” she asks, a teasing note in her voice. “You got a hot date or something?”

Bella freezes.

It wouldn’t be a lie to say no--Bella can’t imagine anyone calling a pack dinner a hot date, unless their idea of a hot date is holding hands with their significant other while half a dozen half naked teenage boys inhale food like they’re never going to eat again.

But on the other hand, she can’t say the whole thing isn’t romantic. This past week, Bella felt like she was dying the longer she spent away from Leah. Leah is like oxygen, like a cool drink of water on a brutal Phoenix day, like coming home. At no point will Leah ever not be the most important part of her life. Not anymore.

But how can she express that to Angela? Bella hardly understands the intense connection afforded by the imprint herself. And with the added... everything surrounding same sex relationships...

Yeah. No. Bella’s not ready to tackle that yet.

So she gives Angela a smile she hopes isn’t too tight around the edges and says, “That’s a secret.”

*

While she wants nothing more than to run into Leah’s arms when she sees her leaning against her red truck, Bella, mindful of her schoolmates’ stares, settles for a faster-than-normal walk and a hug that’s just a tad too long to be platonic. She feels and hears Leah taking a deep inhale of her hair. Bella can’t imagine how hard this time apart has been for her--from what she can tell, the imprint is a stronger pull for the wolf.

“Hey,” Bella says when they separate.

“Hey,” Leah replies. She hoists Bella’s backpack onto her own shoulder and holds her hand out for Bella’s keys. “Do you need to go home before we go to the Rez?”

Bella hands over the keys and nods. “I wanna drop off my books and grab some extra clothes.” At Leah’s arched eyebrow, she flushes and adds, “I-in case I’m too tired to drive home!”

“Sure, sure,” Leah says, unapologetically stealing Jake’s catchphrase.

They climb into the cab of the truck, and they don’t touch again until they’re a mile away from the school.

Bella’s heart aches.

*

It’s easier at LaPush.

There, everyone knows about them. There’s no pretenses, no excuses, no hiding. It’s just Leah and Bella, and they’re together, and no one minds, just like no one minds Sam and Emily, or Jared and Kim.

After the ravenous pack dinner, everyone retires to Emily’s living room, and Bella once again ends up perched in Leah’s lap, and she relaxes against her shoulder while the pack talks shop. Emily and Sam are sharing the big living chair Sam usually occupies, fingers intertwined, and Kim is sitting cross-legged on the floor with Jared’s head in her lap. It’s a testament to the power of the imprint that none of the other guys comment on the couples’ obvious closeness. With any other group of friends, Bella thinks, there’d be immediate teasing.

After a confirmation that Victoria hasn’t been seen around the Rez either, things become much less formal. Emily whips up a new muffin recipe for Bella and Kim to try, “because the pack will eat anything, I can’t trust their opinion on my food, I need an outsider’s voice.” The pack takes advantage of the semi-warm day and starts roughhousing outside, shouting and tackling and just having fun. It warms Bella’s heart to see Leah and Sam being so friendly with each other now, without the pain of Sam’s imprint lingering over them. 

“I wish it could always be like this,” Bella says around a mouthful of cranberry orange muffin. It’s delicious, of course. Bella can cook, sure, but Emily’s the expert baker around here. “No teenage angst, no Victoria hanging over us, no hiding...”

“Hiding?”

Bella blushes when she realizes she’s spoken aloud. “Uh...”

“No, no,” Kim says, persisting. “What do you mean, hiding?”

 “It’s just...” Bella has to pause for a second, and takes another bite of her muffin to stall. “I don’t know how to explain what I have with Leah to the people in Forks. So I figure, hey, maybe I’ll just let them think we’re good friends, but then Charlie will say something like, ‘I’m so glad you have a friend like Leah,’ or my friends at school will tease me about dating, and I just wanna scream, you know?”

Emily makes a comforting sound in the back of her throat and lays a hand on Bella’s shoulder. “I can’t imagine how hard that must be for you. Like living a double life, right?”

“Yeah.”

Kim leans up against Bella’s shoulder in a show of sisterly support. Because that’s what she and Emily are--Bella’s sisters. Not like Alice, who wanted to use Bella as a living dress up doll, or Rosalie, who seemed to hate the fact that she even existed, but actual, genuine love. In being imprinted on by Leah, she got not only her soulmate, but an entire family of support. 

“Buck up, Bella,” Kim says, giving her arm a little hug. “Things’ll get better when you move out here.”

“What?” Move out here? Bella didn’t realize that was part of her future plans already.

Kim cocks her head. “Aren’t you, though? Leah says you’re just taking online classes, so there’s no school commute to think about. And as far as the council is concerned, you being an imprint makes you pack, and being pack means you’re tribe. You have every right to live here.”

“Kim,” says Emily, a warning on her tongue, but Bella cuts her off.

“It’s fine, Em. It’s just not something I’ve thought too much about, is all.”

Her eyes seek out Leah in the dog pile of pack, and when she sees Leah’s smile, everything seems okay.

*

“What was bothering you earlier?” Leah asks, later, when they’re lying in Leah’s bed with their legs tangled together.

Bella starts. “You knew?”

“I wasn’t trying to listen, but I could tell you were upset.” One of her hands comes up to comb through Bella’s hair. “Talk to me.”

Bella sighs and snuggles closer to Bella’s reassuring heat. “I don’t like having to pretend we’re not together when I’m not on the Rez,” she says, voice soft. It’s harder to say this to Leah than it was to Emily and Kim earlier. “I hate it whenever someone calls you my friend, because you’re so much more than that, and I want to tell everyone how much you mean to me, but I have no idea how to.”

Leah grunts. “I wish I could make it better for you.”

“Not your fault.” Bella yawns. “When I told Kim and Emily earlier, Kim said I should just move to the Rez after I graduate.”

Bella feels Leah’s whole body stiffen. “Really?” She’s trying to sound nonchalant, but Bella can hear the excitement in her voice.

“Really.” She reaches up to stroke her thumb along Leah’s cheekbone. “Is that... something you’d like?”

“Absolutely,” Leah says, with no hesitation, not even a little bit. Her lips, chapped and warm, press against Bella’s forehead. “I want you forever. I want your good mornings and your good nights. I want your bedhead and your morning breath, and I want your hair clogging up the drains, and I want to hear you humming in the kitchen while you cook and see you biting you lip while you read before bed. I want everything, Bella. Everything you’re willing to give me.”

Bella feels her eyes grow warm. It’s ridiculous, she thinks, that after less than a week of dating she feels ready to commit. But she wants. She wants so badly to be Leah’s forever, for Leah to be hers.

“I’m willing,” she says, not even embarrassed at the way her voice cracks with emotion, “to give you forever, if you promise me the same.”

And so they talk, long into the night, about a little house by the cliffs, of a built-in bookshelf in the bedroom by Bella’s side of the bed and a kitchen with an island and a big living room so the pack can come over, and they don’t fall asleep until the sun is peeking over the horizon.

“One day,” Bella says, just before she drifts off, “I’ll be able to tell the whole world, ‘I love Leah Clearwater,’ and no one will be able to do anything about it.”

Sleep claims her before she feels Leah go stiff, and before she realizes that this is the first time she’s spoken about love.

Before she can hear Leah say, “I love you, too.”

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[lethe-rpg]

Joseph Thomas, they named him. Joseph first, because he was the older of the two grandads, and because it was broadly agreed that he’d been a lucky sort of man. The Finedays wanted their son to have that, and all the drive, the grace, whatever it was that kept Joe walking the right way. Thomas second, because he was a good man, a good brother and husband and father, who got in trouble and made trouble and struggled and lost and struggled and won. And that ought to be honoured, too. Joseph Thomas Fineday - or J.T., because Joseph Thomas was the sort of thing you called somebody when they were in for it, and a mouthful besides - didn’t get to know his grandfathers well. Didn’t get to know a lot of things well, in fact, as his mom worked her way around the oil patch, far away from the rez he’d been born on, back in Saskatchewan. Leaving wasn’t an easy choice. But with his dad in the forces, gone for months on end, mom took the chance. For the family, for her son. The money was good; she pushed through night school along the way, set up a contracting business, made more money, made jobs. And when she had to, she could pick it all up and head to the next well. J.T. understood, but he didn’t always want to. Not when he had to get used to new schools and new towns, over, and over, and over. He knew he’d have his mom, and his dad, at least for a while, until the next tour. But mom worked so hard, and the two of them only got so much time together, too - asking for more, for him, seemed ungrateful. So he should just get friends of his own, hey? Only, most of those places they stayed, scattered through the prairie backcountry? Didn’t have too many kids to choose from. And most of those were white. Being one of the few brown faces in the room - or the only one - for a year here, two years there, and so on, putting up with all the bullshit that came with… it wore on him. First, he drew away into books. Tore through tiny libraries and battered secondhand stores. By his teens, that stopped working. Those rare visits home had dried up, cut off by loss, distance, and so on. Those once-precocious grades started sliding, fast. Those “friends” got worse, and J.T. got worse with them, trying to see who he had to be to keep ahold of the few connections he had. It was all sliding apart,  faster and faster - until a dingy school-lunch drama club in northern Alberta managed to hold that shit together. J.T. hadn’t expected it, to say the least. Fought it, for a while. But the lure of bringing something to life, stepping into a story, exploring people and moments and feelings… he couldn’t turn his back on that. Not for long, anyway. And that was just the start. Theater - the act, the history, all of it - became J.T.’s place to be. Wasn’t always easy. The same barriers his dad hit while serving, all the obstacles his mom ran into around the rigs, those homegrown Canadian prejudices, were waiting. But for that feeling, up on stage? J.T. told himself that was worth anything. And he told his students, too, as he somehow fell into teaching, one university improv group and community theatre club at a time. Along the way, he reached out into film, into art, into a world he’d never pictured himself as a part of - and he found that part, became it. Even if his parents didn’t exactly like all this, as a career path, they could love how much it did for their son. And, eventually, J.T. loved it for how much he could do for others, especially kids like he’d been. 

He’d still be doing that, if it weren’t for an exceptionally bad weekend. Exceptionally. A faculty trip out to the interior, a bit of backcountry hiking and so on, that’d sounded like a good time. Be nice to get out of the city, leave Vancouver behind for a couple weeks. So far as risks went, he’d anticipated busted ankles and blisters. Nobody mentioned wolf attacks. The ride to the hospital was long, and bloody. And fucking painful, to say the least. But if he’d gone to pieces, as much as his arm was, well, everybody would have lost it. So J.T. made sure they managed a few laughs, got some real road trip photos, yeah? He kept it up after the stitches went in, after he breezed his way back to work. While trying not to twitch every time he heard a dog growl. Or heave whenever he passed that hellishly nasty staff microwave. Or… there were little things, strange things, that sent him back to the doctor. Until he stopped bothering, because after a few scans and tests and so on, all the man said was that he ought to talk it out with his counsellor, and all his counsellor could do was listen and ask and miss what he meant, which sounded crazier and crazier every time he tried to find a not-crazy way to explain it. So those little things kept piling up, day by day - until it all fell down. Two months ago. Full moon. 

Now, you meet all sorts, in the theatre. Between students and colleagues, J.T.’s collected quite the odd mix of acquaintances - odd enough that somebody was able to suss out just what, exactly, was going on. Lycanthropy has some pretty predictable patterns, after all, and a fresh werewolf has some particular quirks, don’t they? Quinn Cameron, of course, had some personal experience to work from. They were friends - you’ve gotta be decent to whoever’s building your sets - just professionally, maybe, but between that and how jittery J.T. was, he listened when Quinn came around. To actually have someone put a name to it, make it real, was strangely earth-shattering. Or, more accurately, it… ripped the tape off, maybe. That first full moon had cracked J.T.’s world to pieces, broken rules, bent sense and story inside out. By sheer force of will, he’d kept his shit in order. More or less. Held the reality of it at arm’s length, because he had to. Because it shouldn’t be happening. Because it couldn’t be happening. But it was. It was, and he didn’t have any answers, couldn’t even imagine where to look. And as it pressed in on his life, as it tugged and tore at his body, J.T. started to feel something familiar: anger. At circumstances beyond his control, like when he was a kid, pushed around and pulled from place to place. He’d never liked being angry. It was something he wanted less of, wanted to beat and be done with. Hearing the reason, the truth, said - werewolf - didn’t help. What the fuck was that really supposed to mean, anyway? For him? For his plans, unraveling around the full moon, the days next to it, the days further, as he found himself tearing through his apartment night after night, unable to just will away this thing that had chewed its way into his schedule. A busy schedule. At this point, as he arrives in Lethe for what he hopes will be a short stay, J.T.’s trying to see this ridiculous, impossible situation as a temporary inconvenience. If the world’s weird enough for this B-movie bullshit to exist, it better be strange enough for an easy fix to be out there. And, based on what he’s been told, Lethe should be able to supply something like that. Right?

As for his thoughts on Lethe, well, J.T.’s still at the first impressions stage - he’s literally just arrived, and the walk from the inn to city hall has left him a little doubtful, to say the least. It’s weird how weird this place isn’t, given what Quinn told him. As for the Riverborn, or the Council’s shaky standing, or the recent and unfortunately relevant upheaval in the local pack, they didn’t get to that in any detail; at the moment, J.T. isn’t giving it much thought. He has his own problems, and, frankly, he’d like his life to get less strange sooner than later. Should be easy. Sure.