#indigenous creators

[cadencejames87]

Pairings: Bucky Barnes x Female Stark Reader

Summary: You help Bucky with his nightmares.

Honestly, if you read this, I apologize. It's basically word vomit that could have been trimmed. I focused on areas that didn't need to be focused on and glossed over bits that could have been more in-depth; my brain is all over the place these days.

Word Count: 5.3k

Warnings: House fire, death of a parent, PTSD, talks of trauma, hostage, abuse, sad Bucky, sorry if i missed any

*not beta'd thus any and all mistakes are my own*

~Dividers within story by @firefly-graphics~

"You should have seen his face," Clint mimicked the dumbfounded expression that wavered heavily on Tony's ordinarily know-it-all smug mug when he wandered into Clint's safe house not too long ago. "And all this time he's been hiding you from all of us." Clint sets down a large bowl of popcorn and falls onto the couch with the rest of the team, minus Cap and his wingmen, currently on their way back from an extended mission.

Tony wasn't absent in your life, though he wasn't really present either. You were a surprise after a one-night stand with a pretty face changed his life.

Your mother was a nursing student, waiting tables at night. She enjoyed that most nights were quiet enough to sneak in studies. At least they were until an extremely intoxicated Tony Stark stumbled into her diner seeking shelter from the rain, cover from the paparazzi, and a burger with a side of fries to soak up the alcohol.

You could call it love at first sight since he stopped in every night after until she finally agreed to a date. Your mother knew he was a playboy, nothing near marriage material when they met, yet, a girl could dream. Maybe she might be the one to change his ways. She quickly learned how much the man needed to grow up, and those fantasies soon died, but not before she was pregnant with you.

Though your mother refused to jump into a relationship because of one hurdle, which Tony had been slightly relieved to hear, she accepted his need to be a part of your life. No way would she deny that from either of you. He had been nothing but wonderful to her from the moment they met. He was simply not the right fit at this time, and if they would never be anything more than co-parents, she could not have asked for a better partner in raising you.

Of course, Tony being the man he is, tried to pay for her schooling, debts, and even rent when she found her dream space, for a steal, in the heart of Soho. She would never know it was all his doing. He had bought the brand-new building originally advertised as potential office space, had the interior quickly remodelled, and slipped a flyer into one of her books. He even personally screened each and every one of her neighbours and kept the best unit open, denying all who applied until he saw her name on the list.

She rejected his help in her personal finances, though when it came to you, she planned to do everything 50/50. Naturally, he completely squashed that plan, whether it was pettiness or pride, the moment you took your first breath, he was there 100% for you. He covered medical and dental, paid for the finest education, and spoiled you with toys, clothes and whatever else he could think of, despite your mother's objections over lack of space. His presence in your life wasn't just money; he wanted to be there for every school play, graduation, and birthday, even if it meant sending Happy with a camcorder when he was otherwise engaged. He saved all the videos of every milestone, your art projects, and pictures as you grew up.

When it came to college, he set you up with your own downtown apartment in Vancouver, Canada, after receiving a scholarship to one of the top film schools. {Which you turned down so they could offer it to someone in need and kept that little secret between you and your father.} You graduated after a two-year program and chose to continue your education at Stanford. Tony happily helped you relocate. He was so proud of you for going after what you wanted and knocking it out of the park by getting into another top school. He paid the tuition in full and even bought you a car, despite telling him you could take transit if needed. I mean, you did live within walking distance of campus. Anyway, the years flew by, and you graduated with a major in astrophysics and made your way back home to NYC, where you picked up a job as a barista, refusing any more handouts while searching for a more permanent job that fit either of your studies without your father's influence. You wanted to prove you could make it on your own.

After the attack on New York, Tony started rethinking everything. He wanted to keep you safe, which meant protecting the world from more attacks. Maybe he would convince you to work in Stark Tower or a new building he could have built overnight. He also began re-evaluating his current relationship with your mother. Was there hope to rekindle what could have been? A near-death experience will do that to a man. He was finally ready to quit his partying ways and take things more seriously, and all of this over Shawarma with the team.

As he flew over Washington Square Park down Broadway, he could already see the dark clouds of smoke filling Soho. Sirens of fire rescue ring out as people run for safety, shouting about an explosion, bombs, and aliens. Stark makes it through the thick smoke and fights through the flames of your mother's building, searching desperately for her. He finds her in the bathtub, covered in a wet towel, choking on the smoke. Against Friday's advice, Tony removes his suit, places her inside, and sends her out the window.

He scrambles back through the apartment to find the entrance blocked by debris. He searches blindly for the window to the fire escape and breaks out, basically falling down the steps as he scrambles to his escape. As he drops the last couple of feet to the pavement below the fire escape ladder, he searches the street filled with emergency vehicles and first responders. He spots your mother on a gurney receiving oxygen, climbs to his feet and hurries over with a faint limp. The EMT nursing her burns gives him a grim look. “We have to transport her immediately. It doesn’t look good.”

“Well, what’s the holdup?” Tony helps load the gurney and climbs in, taking her hand in his. “Hey, sweetheart. We’re going to get you help, okay? You are so strong! Just hold on a little longer, for our daughter; for me. I love you.” He brushes her hair with his hand and kisses her forehead softly.

“Tony?” She pulls her oxygen mask down to speak. “Take care of our girl,” she breaks into a coughing fit, and the EMT jumps into action, pushing Tony aside to suction mucus and intubate. Tony watches on, eyes filling with tears, feeling helpless as the mother of his daughter, the woman he loves, fights to breathe. The EMT keeps an eye on all the monitors as he pumps air manually into her lungs. When the heart monitor flat lines, Tony feels his own heart stop. He can’t seem to breathe, there's a ringing in his ears. The EMT yells at Tony to take over so he can start compressions.

After your mother’s funeral, you distanced yourself. Tony figured it was probably for the best. How could he keep you safe if his enemies ever figured out who you were to him? The building you grew up in had only been a target as it was a property owned by Stark.

Unfortunately, some enemies were closer than he realized. They knew of you and your mother and why her death hit him so hard that even those closest to him struggled to keep him sober. You were grateful he had Pepper when you disappeared while he was still mourning. However, you didn’t know it until Cap carried your limp body from a room he had seen before, a replica of one he dragged his best friend from before losing him on a mission. He blamed himself for years after for roping Bucky back into the fight. Learning what really happened when they were reunited did nothing for the guilt.

Once Tony finished clearing the building and made it on the jet, you told him you did not want to go home or to the tower, expressing your fear those who took you would know that is where you would be. You needed space and time. Tony understood that, yet his need to keep you safe outweighed everything else. He settled you into a room at the new compound, freshly reconstructed from the old Stark Industries warehouses. You witnessed the evolving relationship between Tony and Pepper as Stark Tower was gradually moved into the new facility before the Avengers would call it home. You loved the impact Pepper had on your father, and seeing him in this new light, taking on more responsibilities, with a newfound passion for his work and the positive changes saving people had created in his demeanour.

It was possible his over joyous personality was in reaction to finally having you home after being gone for three years and presumed dead right after losing your mother. You hated to ruin it, yet you failed to feel comfortable enough to speak about what you went through to anyone, not a therapist, Happy, or your father, who used to be one of your best friends, other than your mother. Ultimately, you decided to distance yourself further from this new life he had built. Whether it was the fear of falling victim again to one of his enemies or just the space and time you needed; without Tony encroaching. He gave you what you needed and set you up in a cabin in the countryside of upstate New York. Naturally, the whole proximity was wired with motion sensors and hidden cameras and had a few suits as security measures stowed in the garage.

Tony still popped in occasionally to catch you up on Avenger gossip, including the falling out with Steve, who you kept in touch with over text. You understood both sides, though if you were to choose whose back you would have, it would be the man used as a weapon, held hostage and tortured for years.

They were unprepared to lose you again so soon when Thanos snapped away everything he fought mercilessly to defend. Though, Tony wouldn't know for sure if you had been victim to the snap for nearly a month after. So when he finally got you back, he promised to hold on tight. You had a new sister and finally sat down to thank Pepper for being there for your father and being just what he needed to keep going all these years.

You all stayed together in the cabin, though you migrated to the studio above the garage, where you often escaped to craft dreamcatchers; a craft you learned in your early childhood from your mother who had learned from her mother. Your studio sessions started with one for yourself when you struggled to sleep before the snap, and another for Tony, when he opened up about his anxiety after you returned. Then one for Morgan, when you caught her admiring one hung in a studio window. One your mother crafted, kept safe in your Chelsea apartment when the fire wiped away everything, pictures, baby clothes, art, report cards, your mother's memories of a life before you, and dreamcatchers she made every year of your life; even the ones you crafted alongside her. After a short conversation with Pepper over tea under the stars, in which she complimented the beauty of your dream catchers and what a shame it was that more people couldn't enjoy them, you made over two dozen more for a farmer’s market.

Tony popped into the studio for his daily chit-chat, wandering the room and appreciating the collection of dreamcatchers hanging all over. “Word on the street is the Capsicle is planning on jumping ship again after this mission.” You had been the one to convince him to stay when no one else could, not even his best friend. Though you had your suspicions, he never really tried, and you planned to ask him when you finally met him.

Now you are sitting in the Avengers compound, getting to know the team and waiting on the man of the hour. Except when he finally walks in with his team, your attention falls to the brunette on his flank. Something about him seemed so familiar, his face, those eyes, that walk. Had you seen it all somewhere before? I mean, you knew of the man from stories and history lessons. In more recent years, the news and Tony's personal ghost stories. Also, Steve had come to visit, the only Avenger who knew of your existence, and of course, he shared a few memories from both the past and present of Sergeant Barnes. He said Tony might be a little indifferent, less sympathetic than he should be, considering their history. He only wanted to give you a chance to hear how he saw him, and when the day came, you could form your own opinion.

As far as first impressions go, he has yet to say hi, and you are drooling over this God of a man. Nope, no, down girl! You take a moment to glance around the room, hoping no one noticed your internal freak out just then. When your eyes return to James, he freezes. He looks at his friend for help, but Steve obliviously continues on as Bucky searches for an escape. He swallows, eyes falling to the floor as he backs away, glancing up with sad eyes once more before turning back the way he came. What the hell was that? “Y/N, I’m sorry about the outfit. I wanted to come and say hi as soon as we touched down. This is Sam.”

Sam smiles flirtatiously, takes your hand, and bows to kiss it. “Down, birdman! That’s Stark’s daughter.” Banner warns.

Sam backs away, hands up in surrender as Tony stares him down. You smile politely and look back to the empty hall. “I was only saying, hi. Besides, I think Cap’s already called dibs with how much he gushes over her.”

“You realize I’m right here.” Stark questions Sam, who immediately mimes zipping his mouth closed and tossing away an invisible key.

“I’m sorry about him. He was raised in a different time.” You turn back to find Steve giving you a shy smile. “And what he said, I never—”

“It’s fine. Don’t worry about it, Steve.” Your eyes move to the hall again.

“Oh, and this is…” Steve finally realizes Bucky is no longer with them. “Well, if you saw him, that was Bucky. I promise he is the sweetest person you will ever meet. Don’t let anyone tell you otherwise.”

“Not even his own face.” Steve shoots Sam a look. “You know what I'm talking about. That staring thing he does. Where it looks like he wants to kill you.” He turns to the others in the room as he searches for backup, quickly finding it as Nat shrugs and nods back. Steve gives them both a look of disapproval.

"Alright, that's enough. You're going to kill Grandpa.” Tony jokes as he pushes through the group to meet Scott and his tray of milkshakes. “The burgers?”

“Almost done, Mr. Stark. Thanks again for inviting me.” Scott sets the tray on the coffee table and rushes back to the kitchen, wiping his hands on his frilly apron.

"Was that Ant-Man?" You ask in confusion.

"Don't worry, he's getting paid." Tony looks over at Banner and shakes his head.

"Dad?!"

"The point is, he is enjoying himself, and he offered."

After the brief intros, Sam and Steve excused themselves to unload the jet, write their mission reports and freshen up before dinner. When they returned, Bucky was still nowhere to be seen. “Don’t take it personally. He gets in these grumpy old man moods after missions. You’ll meet him soon.” Nat settles in next to you before Steve has a chance.

“I’m not –”

“You were obviously keeping an eye out for Barnes. It's totally fine. You should know he and Sam are in your wing.” You turn quickly, brows furrowed. “It used to be Steve, Clint and myself and one empty room. Well, not empty. It was decorated and off limits, and now we know why.”

“Where did you go?”

“Clint’s not here as often as he used to be, so when Sam joined, he moved to one of the loft spaces on the upper floors. Then we found Barnes, and I gave up my space when he moved in, thought it would be an easier transition after everything.”

You stayed up as long as you could with everyone, but you were pretty tired after a long day of driving, and the anxiety of just being back in the city was exhausting. You slipped out of the room as everyone watched their second movie of the night after dinner and wandered the halls.

As you approached your room, a terrifying sound had you spinning fast and your most traumatic memories flooding back. Memories you had repressed. It was an all too familiar scream. One filled with anguish and fear. You stood frozen against the wall next to your room, staring wide-eyed at the door across from yours. The screams echoed in your memory as they faded in reality and turned into soft whimpers. You felt your trembling legs step forward before you could stop yourself. You took a deep breath and leaned gently against the door, listening.

You heard shuffling and then footsteps, pacing back and forth and suddenly growing louder as they came closer. You scrambled back and tried to flee into the safety of your room, but your back hit the wall again, and you stared up at Bucky as he stepped into the hallway. The much smaller than you remembered a second ago, hallway. “Sorry."

"I didn’t mean to scare you.” His eyes avoid yours as he escapes to the common area down the hall with his head hanging low. You hear the kitchen sink turn on and water filling a glass. Your heart rate finally returns to normal, as you let out the breath you had been holding. You scold yourself and turn to your room, dragging yourself to bed.

The following weeks went on with Bucky avoiding you while you continued to get to know the team. Your sleep schedule was thrown off completely, waking each night to Bucky's screams, mind racing with your own traumas while wanting so desperately to reach out and comfort him. You never did, of course, instead, you kept your distance and gave him his space. When you woke in the middle of the night, you turned to your dreamcatchers.

Meanwhile, for the ex-assassin, most nights were filled with cold showers and sitting alone in the dark with his thoughts, shivering; like he was punishing himself. Other nights, he would find himself in the training room, lifting weights and doing pull-ups until his muscles screamed. And some nights, Steve would keep him company and remind him there was no way he would have done any of the things Hydra made him do without being tortured and lied to. It wasn’t really what he wanted to hear or could even believe, no matter how many times anyone told him. Those nights usually ended with an early morning run.

He still remembers his years with Hydra vividly, the terrified cries and screams, titanium wrapped tightly around innocent throats, lifeless eyes, blood, so much blood, fire, gunshots, explosions. He was hyperventilating when you walked into the common area. Having a full-on panic attack as he stared at his hands, shaking, and mumbling, “It was still me. It was still me. It was still me.”

“Bucky?” You approach him slowly, unsure if you were being cautious for his sake or yours. You clear your throat, ”James?”

He freezes slightly, eyes watching from the corner, trained on your feet as you round the couch. He presses his back further into the sofa behind him, hands gripping the floor beneath him for purchase.

You pause at the corner, looking down at the broken man on the floor. “I am James Buchanan Barnes. Sergeant with the 107th, 32557038. I am James Buchanan Barnes.” You slowly kneel next to him. His rambling fades lower. “3255…” His eyes dart to you and back at the floor. “70…” You scoot a little closer. “38.” He wills himself to look at you. “I’m sorry,” his whisper comes out shaky, eyes filled with tears. “I’m so sorry.” You shake your head and pull him into a tight hug. He clutches onto your shirt and cries into your chest. “I didn’t want to hurt you.”

“Shhh, it’s okay.” You rub his back.

“They made me take you.”

You brush your fingers through his hair. “I know.”

He pulls away to look you in the eyes. “I’m sorry.”

You wipe his tears. “I forgive you.” He breaks again, this time though, it is relief that fills his eyes before he buries it back into your shoulder and holds onto you for dear life. He cries himself to sleep, and you continue to hold on, leaning your cheek on the top of his head.

Sam and Steve enter the kitchen in need of water, Sam panting as he downs his glass. Steve smiles at his friend as he leisurely sips his own. Steve opens his mouth to poke fun at Sam’s endurance when a deep sleep-filled breath grabs their attention. “I got him, I’m sure you need a moment to catch your breath,” Sam says sarcastically and sets his glass in the sink before crossing to the living area.

Steve lets out a soft chuckle. “I could use a shower,” he shrugs.

“Steve.” Sam stares down at the two of you still wrapped in each other’s arms, though you are now snuggled into Bucky's chest as he leans into the corner of the sectional, protectively holding onto you. “Sorry, man,” Sam apologizes to Steve as he joins him.

"It's like our childhood all over again."

"Maybe there's a reasonable explanation for this."

"Either way, Tony's not going to like it," Steve says with a shake of his head.

"Not going to like what?" It comes out in a raspy whisper as you stretch and look back at the men over your shoulder. They stand in shock, unsure how to proceed. You look around, realizing where you are and then look at the man beneath you. "Oh, right." You quickly get up, "Let's just not tell Tony." You push past both men as you make a mad dash for your room, hiding your face as it burns with embarrassment.

Bucky startles awake with the slam of your door. He lets out an exasperated sigh as he climbs to his feet, “I’m not going for a run.”

“Neither are we.” They keep a close eye on him as he crosses to the kitchen.

“You know I could have killed you, standing over a guy as he sleeps, lucky I wasn't armed," he mumbles. "What’s wrong with you?” He grumbles as he grabs himself a protein bar from the cupboard.

“I have the same question for you. Your best friend pines over a girl for years, and we find you wrapped up in an embrace, sleeping with the woman of his dreams out in the open.” 

“Seriously?” Steve stares at Sam like he revealed his deepest secret.

“It’s not like she’s in the room, man.”

“We’re not sleeping together, and it wasn’t a romantic embrace or any other kind of embrace. We were... She--" He lets out a frustrated groan. "Never mind, you wouldn’t understand.” Bucky exits the room before they can say anything more.

Sam turns to Steve, still staring at him. “What?! Why didn’t you say anything?”

“Maybe we read into it.” 

The following night Steve woke with Bucky, and instead of sitting with him in the living room, he suggested they hit the gym.

You turned to your dream catchers, the newest wrapped in black suede, weaved with black sinew and gold beads. It was time to add feathers, and you couldn’t decide if you should add navy blue and red or even gold to the bunch of black feathers you had already carefully selected.

“I can’t do this anymore. I need a shower.” Bucky turns to leave.

“Come on, Buck.”

“No, you want to talk, let's talk. Stop pretending this is anything more than that.” 

“Bucky, I’m just trying to help.”

"No, you're upset with what you saw yesterday and I know, I heard you and Sam talking, if Tony would have walked in, I wouldn't have woken up." He grabs a towel from the bench. “Maybe it would have been for the best. None of this changes anything.” He storms out and returns to his room, though just as he steps into the hallway, he is hit with a fond memory. One of hardly any he has of his time with Hydra, he leans into the memory, drawn closer to your soft, melodic humming.

You lay on your back in the tall grass, watching a meteor shower. “You know you’ll get in trouble if they find out.”

“Their torture is better than hearing you go on and on for weeks on end about a bunch of stardust,” he grumbles from his perch behind you on the back of a quad. Successfully masking the fact he enjoyed your company and the show in the sky.

“That’s not true,” you whisper, “you forget they have me observe and—” You sit up, hugging yourself. “I know you have nightmares.”

He snaps a branch he had been absentmindedly fiddling with. “We should head back.”

You quickly turn around on your knees, “No, please. I don’t want to go back, not yet.” You spot the discarded branch and pick it up. “I can make you something. It will help with your nightmares.” Your chin quivers as you fight to hold back your tears.

He checks over his shoulder, sighing heavily when he turns back and gives you a quick nod.

You take the lantern next to Bucky and comb the beach for materials, Bucky sticking close to your side. You find plenty of feathers scattered along the pebbles and grass. You kneel on the ground in your tattered skirt, wincing as the varying rocks and debris dig into your skin. “What are you doing?” You look up, studying the man above you for a moment, and then you return to the pebbles, “I need one last thing. Do you see these bits of colour? It’s sea glass. I love these pretty blue ones, my favourite colour.” You hold up a small piece of glass the same colour as his eyes.

He catches the blush tinting your cheeks before you can hide your face and kneels beside you on one knee. “How many do you need?”

“I need one red one, but it has to be at least this big.” You hold up your thumb and forefinger about the size of a dime. “It’s the most important piece.” Bucky sweeps a hand through the pebbles and helps you search. “You keep looking, I’ll get this started.” You tuck the feathers into your sleeve as you pick at a loose thread on your skirt. In spite of your careful movements, the thread breaks, and yet you continue to collect more. When you finally gathered what you needed, there was a wide slit into your skirt. You knot the ends together, blow out the candle in the lantern, and dip the material into the wax.

“Are you done?” Bucky feigns annoyance as he relights the lantern and moves it closer to himself, a safe distance from you.

You let out a quiet giggle. “Two questions, do you trust me? And can I borrow a couple of things?” You cautiously reach for the tact knife on his thigh. Bucky eyes your hand and readjusts his position, pushing his thigh into your palm as he rakes his fingers through the pebbles again, seeking a suitable piece of sea glass. “I don’t understand why you need all of these straps,” you take hold of one of the offending straps on his tact suit and bring up the knife. You look at him for consent. His jaw clenches as he gives you the same quick nod he did when he agreed to stay longer. Watching you from the corner of his eye as you gently cut through the leather strap and unfasten the other end. “I need one more.” He gives you better access and you repeat your actions as he returns to his search. When you finish with his knife, you place it back in the sheath and gather all your materials.

You wander back to your spot in the grass, humming a tune and get to work. Picking up the discarded branches, you braid them, form a circle, and tie the ends together with the waxed thread. You wrap the branches with the leather straps and begin to weave a web within the circle of wrapped branches with the waxed thread already attached. Bucky makes his way back to you, keeping quiet so as not to disturb you. “Did you find it?” He holds out a perfect piece of sea glass, larger than a dime, maybe even a nickel. Your smile fills him with warmth, and he struggles to hide the twitch of his lip. You'll never know he found plenty of red bits that he deemed unsuitable. Whatever piece he found needed to be perfect, like you in his eyes.

Clearing his throat, he stands and returns to his perch on the back of the quad, taking out his tact knife to pass the time. You wrap the sea glass into the final weaves, knotting the end in the web and securing the sea glass a little more until you run out of thread. You let out a huff as you hold out the dream catcher. “It’s not the greatest, but, it should do.”

Bucky takes the dream catcher, admiring the finished product. “What do I do with it?”

“Smuggle it back in and hang it by your bed.”

“They won’t let me keep it.”

“Hide it under your pillow?” You shrug.

 “What about here?” He opens his jacket and tucks the dreamcatcher close to his heart.

“Well, I guess the straps are good for something.” You smirk.

“You can come inside if you like.” You heard him, thought he would return to his room, but his footsteps slowed and altogether stopped between your rooms.

“I didn’t mean to disturb you.”

“You’re not.”

“Did you make all these?” You nod. “Gorgeous.” His fingers brush the feathers attached to one of the dream catchers. “Softer than mine.”

“You remember it?”

“It gave me hope,” he moved to your bed and sat down. “When I helped you escape, left you at that facility,” he swallows a lump in his throat. “They stripped me down to wipe me, found it in my gear. They took it and burned it in front of me.” His eyes filled with tears. “I used to look at it every night. Hid it under my pillow, like you said. Carried it with me everywhere.”

“Did it help?”

He nods. "It reminded me of you. A bright light in all that darkness.”

You turn back to your desk, pick up the dream catcher you were working on, and join Bucky on the end of your bed. ”I didn’t think you made it out of there with the other.” You hand him the new dream catcher, inspired by his new arm, the black and navy-blue feathers hung with gold sinew and red beads to tie in his new tact suit. “And you can actually hang this one without fear of anyone confiscating it.”

The tears fall freely as he accepts the gift. He tries to give you a smile, sniffles and wipes away the tears with the back of his hand. “Thank you.”

You pull him in for a hug. “I can make you a small one for your keys that you can carry everywhere.”

“I won’t need it, I’ve got you.”

“Do you now?”

“I’ve also got this.” He removes a small object from his pocket, the sea glass he found. He takes your hand and places it inside. “It’s not blue.”

“This one is more special. You found it.”

"For you."

You turn the glass over in your hand. "Did you know that penguins search for the perfect pebble to gift to their love?" You turn to kiss him softly, you meant to aim for his cheek, and he looked up last minute. When you pull away, he follows and deepens the kiss.

Steve lifts his hand to knock on your door, pausing when a soft moan escapes your lips. “James.” His heart breaks as he tears himself away from your door. I guess his best friend is willing to risk it all for you, and this moment is what solidifies his choice to go back in time.

[dungeonofthedragon]

Games by Indigenous Creators

There are obviously so many out there! But I have been sitting on this post for a while and need to get it out there. Feel free to reblog with additional games of your own, or ones that you've enjoyed!

Coyote and Crow by Connor Alexander (Cherokee)

Cost: $25

Science fantasy at its finest. This game is pretty well known by now. Want a cool sci-fi vision of a future where the Americas were never colonised? Here it is!

There's an upcoming Kickstarter for a horror expansion: sign up here to be notified when it goes live!

Exceptionals by Bramble Wolf Games (Cherokee, ᏣᎳᎩᏱ ᏕᏣᏓᏂᎸᎩ)

Cost: $15

This is a game about the spaces marginalized communities make for themselves. It does this through the lens of superhero stories (think X-Men.)

Gubat Banwa by makapatag (Filipino)

Cost: $20

Play as powerful martial artists poised to change the world. Designed for dramatic war stories and god, if it doesn't have some of the most beautiful art I've seen!

you're going to your ideal wetland by takataapui (Māori- Kai Tahu, Te Ātiawa)

Cost: pwyw

A relaxed solo game about visiting your ideal wetland (swamp, marsh, bog etc.) It's all there in the title really. It's a lovely little game.

[4directionsteam]

After an outpouring of support for our Native American Heritage Month video, we're excited to announce our stream team, The Four Directions. Our goal is to uplift Native streamers, raise awareness on Native issues, and give back to our communities.

Make sure to follow all of our socials to keep up with the team!

[twistingtreeancestry]

My Cherokee Princess

It's a tale as old as bloodlines.

In honor of Canada's observance of National Indigenous Peoples Day, I want to talk about the Indigenous North American myths in the closets of my family history.

Before I get to that, however, I want to highlight some amazing, educational, funny, dedicated, and/or crafty Indigenous creators or brands I follow. They are not listed in a particular order, and this is not a comprehensive list. I do my best to only use the names and titles that the individuals publicly use themselves. Please let me know of corrections!

None of the links I'm including in this post are affiliated or endorsed in any way.

Birdie Sam, T'lingit

Bisan Owda, Palestinian

Angeline Boulley, Nish Kwe

Ari Tison, Bribri

Melissa Blair, Anishinaabekwe

Dani Trujillo, Indigenous and Chicana

Azalea Crowley, Kānaka Maoli and Filipino American

Ida Helene Benonisen, Sámi - Reconnecting

One Way Sky, band, Gila River Indian Community and the Tohono O'odham Nation

Turanga Morgan-Edmonds, Māori

Yolteotl Creations (Angie Zuzeth), Tongva - Reconnecting

Mozart Gabriel, Taos Pueblo and Diné Navajo Salt Clan

Birdy Brzezinski, Menominee/Potawatomi

Paaka Davis, Māori

Che Jim, Diné, Nishnaabe, and Chicano

Vanessa Brousseau, Inuk

Waŋblí Luta Win, Sicangu and Oglala Lakota

Ray Tony Charlie, Coast Salish Elder

Hāwane Rios, Kānaka 'Ōiwi

Lily Hi'ilani Okimura, Kānaka Maoli

Nikki Apostolou, Kanien'kéha

Kayuula Nova, Inuk

Tse shá’íí Chíníí, Lipan Apache and Shoshone

Next, I want to share some websites (also in no particular order and non-comprehensive) that I'm currently adding to a Linktree that I hope to air soon.

Land Back

Protect Uncontacted Tribes Petition

Helping Homeless Keiki Succeed

Demand a Ceasefire in Gaza

Orange Shirt Society

Native Justice Coalition

MMIWUSA

Defense for Children International Palestine

Indian Residential School Survivors Society

Council for Native Hawaiian Advancement

Lāhui Foundation

Palestine Children's Relief Fund

International Work Group for Indigenous Affairs

A Little Background

It was said my paternal side had distant blood relations to the Apache, Blackfoot, Cherokee, and Comanche nations (as well as French and English), while my maternal side had distant blood relations to the Sioux Confederacy (as well as Scandinavian and Irish).

As a child, I took this at face value. I thought surely the elders of my family would know with certainty who we were and where we came from. As an adult, I know better.

Raised with my paternal family, we "knew" we had Native American blood, but it wasn't something to specify outside of the home. My Pawpaw would tell me since we didn't live the way Native Americans did, it wasn't right to call ourselves that. We were proud Cajuns, and that's all anyone else needed to know. At the time, and even among some today, it's believed that to be Cajun automatically makes you at least part Native, though that's a false generalization.

My mother never spoke much about the alleged Sioux connection within her family. It was just a "truth" passed down. She used to call me her "Indian baby" [mega cringe to think back on] due to my tanned skin when I was born and how dark my tan could get as I grew. In elementary school, I was called an "Indian Coonass" and was relentlessly told that my skin wasn't tanned, it was dirty. Spoiler: No, it wasn't.

Whether I was Native American or not, it became a minute piece of my identity—a negative one, at that. By middle school, I rejected the Cajun and Native American identities that were forced on me and I stayed out of the sun as much as I could. By high school, I was no longer fluent in Cajun or Metropolitan French, had largely dropped my accent, and all thoughts of being Native American or Cajun were banished to the void.

After I left Louisiana, my actual knowledge of Native American issues began to deepen, and it finally started sinking in that the family lore was likely wrong. I never considered myself Native American again, as I doubted I would find proof to the contrary.

Nearly Caught Up

It was about this time that I initially made my first family tree on Ancestry.com. I had multiple reasons for doing so, but it was in part to set my familial record straight. I wanted to prove once and for all that we had no Native American blood or affiliations to stop the perpetuation of the Cherokee Princess myth. It was literally the least I could do.

I realized fairly quickly that I didn't know much about my relatives. I didn't care to know my biodad's side of the family that I already knew, and my mother's side had always been somewhat of a mystery.

Thankfully, the family members that I kept in my life were able to give me a great headstart. Sadly, I didn't know much about how to research family history at the time. When I kept hitting brick walls, I got bored and put it down. It was largely forgotten about for years.

In 2016, I discovered Find a Grave. I regularly visit cemeteries, so it seemed like a great idea to help connect the dead to their living or departed families. It gave me a chance to discover more about these long-forgotten people and to tell their stories—to let them live if but for a moment in someone's consciousness.

While researching, I discovered multiple other sites and tools. It eventually led me back to my family tree. This time around, I've learned more than I ever thought I would. As I added individuals and family to my tree, it was amazing to make speculative connections from the past to things about me now. I've always been afraid of sailing across the ocean. Could that be generational trauma that influenced my genes from my ancestors and their families dying aboard ships during Le Grand Dérangement?

Now, as I briefly mentioned in my essay, Happy National DNA Day!, I have 0.3% Indigenous American traces in my DNA. This lends credence to having a Native American ancestor. Is it on my maternal side? Paternal? Who knows, because I haven't definitive proof that the individual even exists.

23andMe traces back roughly 8 generations, so I have an approximate time frame. That's not overly helpful when I can't even make it past 3rd great-grandparents on some branches. Still, I've ended up with 3 unverified possibilities.

"Potential" Indigenous Ancestors

Marie "Madam Treville" Lantier

The first possibility is my supposed paternal 4th great-grandmother, Marie. She was an alleged Indigenous traiteur who lived in Egan, Acadia Parish, Louisiana, USA. I learned of her through a distant relative that I met while inquiring about my 3rd great-grandmother Mary Louise (Marjolet) Simon. No sources or additional information were given, save for the warning that my relative couldn't verify Marie existed. Neither have I.

Joseph Doucet

The second possibility is my paternal 5th great-grandfather (of a different lineage), Joseph. Other descendants of his have accepted the claim that he is Joseph "of Atakapa" Doucet. Granted, I haven't done a lot of research on this family unit, but I did make it a point to look into this for a few days.

According to a French adventurer named Louis LeClerc Milfort, Joseph was a European Jesuit who had been chosen by a band of Atakapa Natives to be their chief and had been living with them for barely over a decade with his six children.

I've read and reread the entry Milfort wrote in 1781 that discusses this encounter, and I cannot rightfully claim that my ancestor Joseph Doucet is Joseph "of Atakapa". There is no substantial identifying information that possibly links the two. For one, it never mentions Joseph's surname. As a matter of fact, these are the only two times his name is even mentioned.

"He told me that his name was Joseph [. . .]" "[. . .] I took leave of Joseph and of the Atakapas [. . .]"

The entry doesn't list a wife, and the only wife I have a record of is Celeste Bellard, but they didn't marry until 1805. The only children I have a record of are their two children, the first (my ancestor) was born after the entry. None of the six children mentioned in the entry were named.

"I have six children whom I love a great deal, and with whom I want to end my days."

There's also an issue with the timeline. Based on the father I have listed for my Joseph, he couldn't have been born before the late 1760s. However, based on the listed siblings I have for him, it's more likely he was born in the early to mid-1770s. This would put him at approximately 11 years old or younger. That's pretty young to have 6 kids and be a chief. Even if you assume he was born in the late 1760s, that really only tacks on an extra few years.

Based on a lack of substantial information and evidence, as well as my observations, I don't consider my Joseph and Joseph "of Atakapa" to be the same individual.

Germain Doucet

The last possibility is Joseph Doucet's 3rd great-grandfather, my 10th, Germain. According to the Mi'kmaq Nation's tribal pages (which has since been modified and no longer shows this passage) said:

"Germain Doucet, born 1641, is a Mi’kmaq man with a Turtle Island YDNA haplogroup, his lineage founded a ship building company that is still in business today, the family-owned fishing schooners and some Doucet men were registered owners of ships in the international shipping industry during the early 1700s. Germain and his descendants are Mi'kmaq men and members of the Mi'kmaq Tribe."

Now, there is a new passage that reads:

"The genealogy of the Doucet Turtle Island YDNA haplogroup descending from Germain Doucet raised by the French colonist, Germain Doucet is possibly the YDNA male clan lineage of the Membertou family of the Mi’kmaq Tribe. DNA testing of the 1610 Wampum Belt Treaty with Pope Paul V could confirm Turtle Island YDNA and MTDNA haplogroups of all who have touched the 1610 Wampum Belt Treaty, including Pope Paul V. DNA is a molecular clock. Because the identity of Germain’s mother is not recorded it is unknown what the mtDNA haplogroup is of Germain’s mother. Autosomal DNA test results of Germain and his wife Marie Landry’s descendants will eventually assist in the triangulation of kinship relationships to identify and confirm the identity of Germain’s mother and her relationship to the Membertou family."

Due to the Native Heritage Project, it seems beyond a shadow of a doubt that Germain is indeed a Mi'kmaq Native. I don't count him as an ancestor yet, despite getting a DNA match with another descendent of his, because I haven't done my own research and collected documented evidence that I'm a direct descendent of his and Mary/Marie Landry.

So. . . Am I Indigenous? Can I claim Indigeneity and join a tribe?

What happens if I can definitively prove these three ancestors (or anyone else) are Indigenous? Does that make me Indigenous? Well, in the most basic of ways, yes. I have Indigenous American DNA, so to that extent, I am a wee bit Indigenous American. Does that mean I get to claim Indigeneity? No, it certainly does not. Can I join a tribe? No, I certainly cannot.

While some tribes or individuals are quick to genuinely welcome anyone with a single drop of Native blood with open arms, that isn't the rule, and it shouldn't be expected or demanded by white folk who get excited at trace amounts of Native DNA.

According to the Native Governance Center, "about 70% of the federally recognized Native nations that share geography with the United States use blood quantum as a metric for citizenship." Generally, you'd need about 25% of your DNA to be Indigenous American to be recognized as such. I have less than 1%. How could I seriously justify making such a claim about myself? How could I seriously think I have a rightful place within a tribe?

Being Indigenous

Due to the history of Indigenous people being stripped of their land, families, spirituality, and other cultural and religious practices, many tribes and individuals are stringent on who can call themselves Native. Many white folks get up in arms about this, calling it gatekeeping and racist, when in actuality it's a safeguard against further whitewashing and colonization. It's a protective barrier against those who willy-nilly want to be "Indian Princesses" or want to reap the few benefits that Indigenous people can get.

This brings me to the term "Pretendian". A Pretendian is someone who is not of Native descent, typically knows that they aren't, but still peddles the false narrative that they are in order to capitalize off of the (usually) stereotypical identity/product/service. This term also encompasses my family, even if we assumed it to be an honest mistake. The issue is that for generations we blindly accepted that we were Indigenous, took on Indigenous trauma and triumph that we had no right to, without ever looking to verify it.

Pretendians happen for many reasons. Some are intentionally malicious while others are completely innocuous, or somewhere in between. It could be shame over the atrocities ancestors committed against Natives, assuaged by assuming a Native identity. It could be for a leg-up on land claims over other colonizers. It could be that other races/ethnicities would rather be thought of as Native instead of their actual race/ethnicity. It could be that a non-Native family lived among Native families, and over time the story changed to the non-Native family being a Native family.

No matter the reason, it's never a good excuse to continue perpetuating this harmful practice when you either know better or could easily learn better in 2024.

Indigenous people have always deserved better from us, and we've failed them at every turn. They simply want their right to exist as they please and return to being stewards of the land we've decimated.

Indigenous Voices

There is still a lot that I don't know about Indigenous issues. Am I using the proper terms? Is the history I reference/know true or colonized and whitewashed? Am I misrepresenting a people I'm not part of? What if there are conflicting viewpoints among the same group or individuals?

Until I get checked, I won't know.

The important part of striving to be an ally and accomplice to Indigenous people is accepting that because you're not of them and don't share their experiences, you'll likely never know everything you should or want, but you should never stop learning what you can.

It's also important to accept that you'll be checked at least once as long as you're participating in discussions involving Indigeneity. I've been checked multiple times over the years, most recently by a Romani person. Due to listening to other Romani voices, I pushed back against a picture posted on Facebook that used the g-slur. It definitely wasn't used in an intentionally offensive way, but I'd learned that as an ally and accomplice, I should still push back.

I wasn't aggressive but offered an alternative picture that didn't use the word with an explanation of why. Then the Romani person confronted me and told me that I shouldn't speak on behalf of their people and that they saw no issue with the use of the word. What should I do in that situation? There are conflicting voices and I'm being publicly reprimanded.

When Indigenous people (or anyone of any race/ethnicity/nationality) use their voice to correct you on topics that pertain to them, you should put your pride and ego aside to listen. Could they be way off-base? Sure. They're human, too. Does an individual or tribe speak for all individuals or tribes? No, humans are too varied for that kind of overarching consensus (most of the time, anyway).

However, it's worth the time to reflect on what was said to you (especially if it triggers you). You might discover a mindset or behavior that you never realized was problematic.

For me, I was triggered momentarily when the Romani person corrected me because I was merely trying to do what I was asked to do in a situation where the slur was used and then suddenly I was being scolded for interfering. It was contradictory and confusing, which can easily lead to irritation or even aggression.

Instead of arguing, I politely explained why I interjected, that I accepted their voice on this topic, that I apologized, and that I would use more caution in the future. Afterward, I was still a bit spiffed at the way I was admonished, but I took time to reflect on my actions and their words.

Honestly, I'm still learning how to navigate potential similar scenarios to come, and have curtailed how often I interject on behalf of others until I figure things out. Allyship and Accompliceship are positions of constant learning and evolving. It's hard, which is why it's so easy for others to see and call us out when we're not being genuine or doing our due diligence. Besides, being an ally or accomplice can't compare to the hardships of being the actual marginalized person or community.

In Conclusion

My family, purposefully or ignorantly, are/were Pretendians, and I'm sorry from the pit of my gut for my part in it. I take full accountability for my naivety and ignorance. Despite undoubtedly having Indigenous American trace DNA, I do not and will not have the right to claim Indigeneity and all that entails.

The importance of uplifting Indigenous voices cannot be overstated. They are still fighting against the systemic and systematic oppression that endangers their rights, protections, families, practices, and land. Follow Indigenous creators, learn whose land you live on, listen to how you can help (and be flexible on the feedback you get from doing so), stop believing the racist and dehumanizing things you've been told about them, and don't make trouble that they will incur the consequences of.

[twotwotwospirit]

creator free me from skinny masc propaganda and let me embrace beefy hunky butch love

[serenado-exe]

So anyway -

The point is that Pizza Tower still has a racist, outdated stereotype of Indigenous people in the Oregano Desert level.

It even has a achievement for rain dancing around a totem pole (totem poles are a Pacific Northwest thing, not a Plains Tribe thing). They war cry at you and they throw tomahawks (because it's always tomahawks or spears).

Bellyache about the screencaps being 5 years old if you want, but the stereotype made it into the game, so he hasn't changed that much. He didn't change enough to have a shred of awareness about using a racist stereotype. And before anyone tries: that trope isn't a hallmark of Wario games or 90s animation, it's a hallmark of racism.

Even if he "doesn't" make bigoted jokes anymore (though I would consider the Tribe Cheese one such joke), he made an entire level based around that trope.

And like every other time there's an anti-Indigenous caricature in videogames or popular media, it doesn't get mentioned, or it gets glossed over because the creator went "Oopsie! That was cringe."

The exclusion of the Tribe Cheese from that salvo of screenshots undermines the entirety of it, because it's a solid example of him not having changed enough to be conscious beyond "that was unfunny," and everyone just focuses on what he said and when - without the connection to how that mindset still lingers in the final product of the game.

[the-aila-test]

I want to bring a bit more attention to this:

I mean this 100%. If you are an Indigenous person who wants to create content for Youtube, make video essays, etc, message me with your questions and if I cannot help you personally, I will point you in the direction of colleagues who can. I want to see more Indigenous content creators. I want to see people who were too shy or nervous or not confident enough to make their own content take a chance, find their courage, and at the very least treat this as a hobby. Your perspective is needed and valued more than ever. Speak your truth and speak from the heart.

[cadencejames87]

Making a dream catcher inspired by a new story I am writing. An old idea I stepped away from because tumblr can be toxic sometimes. But it's in the works as are a handful of dreamcatchers and I am in my element 💗

The first pic is my WinterSoldier inspired dream catcher, currently waiting on new feathers I ordered to fill it out and finish. In that same order are all the colours of materials I need for my Bucky Barnes, Captain America & iron man dreamcatchers... hurry up post man and bring me my materials 😂

The second pic is a dreamcatcher I made a couple years back for Sebastian Stan which inspired this story for his character Bucky. For those curious, I did send it to him along with a business card and script.

[dungeonofthedragon]

Coyote and Crow on Sale

The amazing Coyote and Crow is now only $10 on DriveThru RPG! It's been on my wishlist for a while and, well, I thought I would let other folks know so they could grab themselves a copy.

(Fantasy roleplaying in an uncolonised future for under half price? If I had the money I would have nabbed it in a heartbeat!)

[4directionsteam]

Introducing and Highlighting: Zoe Rain, The Cro Show, SimplyAretha, and AlinaInverse! 🧡✨

✨ We are here to uplift Native Streamers and give back to our communities 🪶

Check them out below!

Zoe Rain

The Cro Show

SimplyAretha

AlinaInverse

[navajo99]

10 Facts on "What's so special about The Haudenosuanee and Lacrosse?" (From a Native American perspective)

Lacrosse is one of the fastest growing sports in the world right now, but most people look at the sport as expensive, exclusive, and very white. Most people who play the game have no idea the origin that goes behind it or how it was originally played. Lacrosse is a spiritual game for many Native Americans and other indigenous people. Here are 10 essential facts on Lacrosse and the Haudenosuanee. Please leave feedback on your thoughts and opinions of the 10 facts listed below!

Lacrosse is the oldest team sport on our continent, originated by a North American tribe. Some people might say it started around the 1100’s A.D. The Native American tribe originators of this game are the Haudenosaunee.

The Huadenosuanee call lacrosse “Dehontsigwaehs" which means they bump hips.

In the 1630’s, French Jesuit missionaries who were working in the St. Lawrence Valley saw the Huron Indians playing the Medicine Game. The name of Lacrosse is just a reflection of this term, another way of how the French pronounced this game was “le jeu de la cross” (the game of the stick).

 Traditional lacrosse game sticks were made from hickory tree wood which represented all plant life. It was said the original game of lacrosse could last several days and have been played with 100 to 1,000 men in a 2 mile radius of land. This game is still played to this day amongst certain Native American tribes.

The cosmology of this game of lacrosse started out way before it was even put on earth for the people; it started out with the animals in the sky world. 

The game was given to them by the creator and is very sacred to the Huadenosaunee people, some say it even has healing powers. It's referred to as the medicine game amongst the Haudenosaunee.

This game was called to make peace amongst nations, heal the sick, an exchange to the creator if there was ever a drought, fight diseases, stop war, fix conflict, and to be played with a good mindset at all times, for the creator.

It was never about the outcome of the score but about harmony through the game.

A Haudenosaunee tradition that is still practiced today, is when a male baby is born they receive their first wooden stick and at the end of their journey here on earth, they are buried with the stick. So they can continue playing the game with their ancestors.

Lacrosse is one of the fastest growing sports in the world right now. Thanks to the Haudenosuanee for sharing it with the world!

Let's use this post to spread knowledge to others about the Creators game of Lacrosse. Giving true credit to the Haudenosuanee who gifted this beautiful game to the world. In the spirit of connective blogging, your experiences, insight, stories, and knowledge will help grow this community. Let's create a safe space where we can learn from each other and have allies supporting the Haudenosunee Lacrosse Team's journey as they embark in 2028 Los Angeles Olympics. Here is my question to get the blog started. Do you think after reading these facts, they should be allowed to compete as the first Native American tribe under their own flag? and as the founders of the game of Lacrosse? Yes or No? Have a great day! AHO!

[plutointerludeart]

Ndn goth femme art for upcoming autumn 🍁🕸️🐦‍⬛

[thuun]

We are a mixed-race trans couple working daily and diligently on kawaii-aesthetic designs for tabletop and more! Stickers, magnets, socks, shirts, and other knickknacks, all available via our RedBubble~

We are also open to design requests and suggestions! If there’s something you’re hankering to see us make, let us know :D

Any and all support helps, thank you so much!

[its-a-cautionary-tale]

This wave of people joining “creators for Palestine” has me really frustrated.

I have no issue with supporting the right to safety and freedom for the people of Palestine and I have no issue with wanting to help but I DO have an issue with the organizations that they are choosing to support.

One of the main organizations is the UNRWA, a confirmed Hamas puppet. The UNRWA is actively stealing aid from civilians, and members were actively a part of the October 7th massacre and held hostages in their homes. Why would you want to send them money?!?!?

The amount of misinformation and disinformation that is being spread at the moment is absolutely appalling. Israel isn’t “not sending enough aid”, Hamas is attacking humanitarian aid crossings and stealing the aid that they do let in.

In many of the cases of these creators, I do believe that they have only the best intentions but they are choosing to support a terror organization rather than actually helping the people they claim to care about.

There are also so many people denying the very legitimate REASONS that Israel is doing what they’re doing. I’m not saying I support everything they are doing but I understand why they’re doing it. If you want safety and freedom for the Palestinian people, you have to support the destruction of Hamas. There will be no peace until they are gone. It’s really a simple matter when you strip it down to the basics (not the conflict itself, that’s very complicated, but the reality of the current situation regarding any hope for peace).

Anyway… I now have to decide if I’m going to unfollow all of these creators whose work otherwise brings me joy. They are contributing to the false narrative and waving a literal imperial flag under the guise of “indigenous liberation” (don’t even get me started on the stupid fucking watermelons…)

If anyone has any advice about how to deal with this (tips on separating the content from the creator perhaps) or people who ARE doing good work and are actually helping the situation, please let me know.

This post is most specifically about SMOSH but it applies to a lot of creators. I’m so tired, and I can’t even begin to imagine how the Jewish people in those circles are feeling. People have been calling for Noah Grossman to be fired for being Jewish a zionist for months now, this cannot be helping that situation. I want him to know that the people with critical thinking skills and fucking basic understanding of the complicated history and current situation in the Middle East support him.

[survivalove]

one day we’ll talk about how extremely xenophobic the atla fandom is in how they justify the original cast’s horrible writing in the (more western 😃) sequel series by demeaning and degrading the cultures that they’re based on

starting with: aang being a bad dad makes sense because he grew up with monks and didn’t have a biological father

how utterly disgusting and weird. but honestly i just feel bad that so many of you have been brainwashed so effectively

meanwhile zuko is, according to the fandom, a good father and that makes sense despite his biological father being abusive for his entire childhood

but watch they will bring up iroh as if aang didn’t have gyatso

watch how they will complain about toph being a cop despite her last canon appearance being a 12 year old just like aang

watch how they will criticize katara and sokka’s (lack of) character development while claim that aang was written perfectly.

[unsp0k3n-desires]

best powwow ever !!! 🥰