#mahalo!tabby <333< /div> Explore tagged Tumblr posts

[brooklynislandgirl]

Emma: Has your muse ever attempted a matchmaking scheme? Why? How did it turn out in the end?

Fragments || Accepting

The look that she gives Tabby is pure comedic gold, exaggerating her wide eyes as she glances at her friend sideways before rolling them and letting her face settle back into it's normal neutrality. "So, yeah. Alla time, I t'ink, t' veryin' degrees. Sometimes I'll try an' matchmake Panda, an' nevah work out because he's so pretty to look a' an' den he open his mouth, an' ruin everyt'ing." She isn't lying. Tabby, bless her heart, for as much as she loves Andy sometimes has a hard time dealing with all of him all the time, and does better than most. "Sometimes, try an' set up my cousin Tony. Tall, medium-dark, handsome, an' attracted to men. Italian. Amazing cook, well read, plays piano an' composes, an' is a federal agent. Tell me he's not perfect! But hardship is...findin' someone wor'dy, dat won't take advantage of him."

Beth's face squinches. "I mean if I could, I'd jus' t'row one big party an' den jus' pair people off two by two until all match up like Noah's ark. Somehow, I don't see anyone agreein' to dat, even if I do know best."

[brooklynislandgirl]

Inbox asks: "So, I know it's still two months out, but any tips on what you'd like for your birthday this year?"

Asks Open Forever

Unlike most people, Beth and Andy don't keep their things in the attic, but instead use the space above their apartment, a portion of the sixth floor, for storage. And with Spring in full bloom, inching ever closer to summer, Beth invited Tabby to come keep her company while she sorted to some things to be taken to a variety of donation centres. For a moment it seems like she hadn't heard Tabby's question, kind thought it was, as her attention fixed on a scattering of dust dancing through a beam of sunlight. Tiny motes that held a fiery gleam like floating lights or embers from a Fourth of July sparkler. Really, though, she was just processing the question. Both in terms of the actual words, fracturing the already broken sentence and putting it back together with with the glue and thumbtacks of context and micro-expressions. It's a sweet inquiry but Beth doesn't have an actual answer for her. The older she gets, the less inclined she is to make a deliberately big deal about it. But to say nothing or ignoring the question would be entirely too rude. She tilts her head toward Tabby and smiles. "I suppose wakin' up t' coffee an' breakfas' in bed might be nice. Real malasadas or King's French toast would be really ono. Spend whole day lounging around, or mebbe go t' da library, or down t' da beach. Dinner wi' friends. Don' really need gifts, much beddah for people t' donate f' charities, ya know?" Beth catches the corner of her lip between her teeth. "You t'ink dat's too mean f' say aloud? I t'ink mo'beddah I should jus' be grateful f' what ya might have in mind, an' dat it comes from a place of pure aloha."

[brooklynislandgirl]

74: If you were a stripper, what would your name be? And no, it shouldn't be any of those personal info traps like 'the name of your first pet plus the first street you live on'.

Things That Make You Squirm || Accepting

That Tabby would want to spend her night off in a bar seemed counter-intuitive to Beth but she wasn't about to argue how her friend wanted to spend her time. Not when she says it's nice being the one served. And Beth agrees and puts an open tab on her black AmEx. So they sit at the bar, and the one Tabby's chosen is fairly quiet, fairly out of the way, and are able to have a conversation ~so long as it isn't about studying and school or else she'd have to strangle Beth like she wants to Andy. Beth giggles and knowingly says not exactly the same but that she gets her friend's point. Margaritas with side shots of extra-tequila makes for unique opinions and questions but this one throws Beth for a minute. She would choose something clever, she'd have to. She'd also have to choose one that wouldn't immediately draw her brother's attention. So nothing he'd recognise from O'ahu. Nothing about her 'aumakua, or her love of sharks. Nothing like naughty nurse or billion dollar baby. She'd throw up a little in her own mouth choosing anything Gaelic, a tie to the Admiral. "Oooh, how about... Candy Strippah, like a play on Candy Striper? No, broke my own rule. Okay so. Uhm. Cinnamon Pearl, or Latte Light? Cause my skin tone. Naw. I mebbe need help, I don' feel all dat creative." She laughs. "But wha' about you? Wha' would be ya pen name if ya go write one of dem relationship-t'erapy books? What's ya fake doctah name, more specifically? And wha' would you call ya book?"

[brooklynislandgirl]

85. Would you ever date someone off of the Internet?

Generating Steam Heat || Accepting

Beth stops mid-brush stroke and looks up when Tabby asks the question. They're making posters for All Paws Animal Shelter's adoption fair, and as a no-kill rescue, Beth does every thing she can to help them and the animals cared for within its walls. She dips her brush in her paint-water cup then starts to dry the sable bristles. She's pretty sure that if Tabby had met someone online, she would have mentioned it sooner. That she wouldn't be going on dates with Andy, like dinner tonight and a movie. Maybe its the romantic heart that lies within her breast, the kind that thrives on the same sorts of faery tales that appeal to Beth at their core. That good will eventually always triumph over evil, that everyone is deserving of- and maybe more important will always find their true love. There are a dozen tropes they could easily name that are easily identifiable. One of them, of course, is the appeal of long distance romances. How many movies and books have been written about finding one's soul-mate via long love letters? "I don' see much of a difference between devotin' hours of ya time writin' beautiful lettahs back and forth, watchin' same-same movies t'rough streamin' services, talkin' about ya hopes and fears and dreams…Hones'ly only difference I see between meetin' someone online an' local is dat time an' distance gives you a chance t' truly get t' know someone wi'out da pressure f' act on dat knowledge. "I t'ink a lot of times, especially when people are in each of da oddah's proximity, hormones an' desires get in da way of every oddah kine. Dat we as people rush into physical expressions of our feelings wit' so very little else. An' you heah dese horror stories of people swipin' lef' and right an' none of it means any kine. Because dey lonely an' dey don' know how f' wait any more, to learn an' grow trust an' love…" She shrugs and shakes her head and there's weight on her shoulders, in her expression, even on her voice. Drags it down and low in its soft toned near whisper. "I t'ink it might be easier f' someone like me, a' any rate. Would be some kine dat mebbe Andy wouldn' be so crazy about. On one hand I could say yeah. On da oddah hand, I'd hate t' give a potential suitor all da wrong ideas an' eventually disappoint dem when dey finally meet me in real life. So, probably no." She dips her damp brush into a different colour paint and starts to fill in pre-drawn lines. "I…I don'…I don' t'ink I'm much for datin'."

[brooklynislandgirl]

"I'm pretty sure I'm not allowed to set you up on dates, Bethykins. Your brother might actually murder me." Before the server could put the offer into words, Tabby liberated a pair of champagne flutes from his possession, passing one to Beth and keeping the second for herself. Tabby never minded being a Riley-plus-one for these galas, except really, she felt Beth could do better. "But if we were playing hypotheticals, let's see. Definitely no one here, and I wouldn't let my worst enemy near that Bruce Wayne dude without a double dose of antibiotics." Tabby tapped the rim of her glass against pouted lip, trying to aid the thought process. "You deserve someone heroic. Or an actual superhero. Maybe Superman. Or Batman even, as long as he treated you right."

Adventures in Matchmaking || Accepting Tabby is not wrong, in the technicality of her comment. But there's worse things Andy can do than murder someone, and he's elevated being annoying to an artform. This is all case-in-point. He'd accepted the invitation on behalf of the family and a guest, then purposefully guilted her into making the appearance for him when she'd much rather be at home in her pjs, reading the stack of books on her nightstand that have started cultivating their own society they'd been there so long. Not that she doesn't love Tabby or her company. That's the only reason she agreed to go instead of threatening to stab her brother in the kidney. Beth drains half her glass in a single gulp, so very unladylike, and nods her thanks to her friend. Her eyes roll beneath thick, mascara-encoated lashes. "You know, Mistah Wayne's problem is...he's alla Andy's bad traits an' none of da good ones. Broody, moody, brilliant but no sense of humour an' ya right. I would nevah wanna be his personal physician. Dey would investigate my license, for over-writing prescriptions." Maybe the champagne has loosened her tongue. Maybe deep down Beth is just as snarky as her absent sibling. She laughs over the whole metahuman remark. She could never imagine herself being romantically involved in someone whose wardrobe primarily consisted of spandex and masks. "See I jus'...I don' get why people fawn all ovah Supahman. I mean yeah he's an alien, an' by all standards da epitome of whatevah-whatevah...but like... is he even compatible wi' humans? We don' really know anyt'ing about him except he save da world sometimes an' he can fly...but...eh..."

Clearly Beth has given this some thoughts. "Same same for Batman. Also... what's wi' da name? Don' get me wrong, bats are really cute an' really soft, an' very important part of da equal system, but how does dat correlate to a crime-fightah in tights? I don' get it." A longer, more thoughtful pause and she looks Tabby in the eye, her voice quite a bit softer. "I t'ink...for reasons...I would hafta choose da Ali'i of Atlantis, or his rival, King Shark. Although, I've gotta admit, if my preferences were to remain in da realm of mortal man, I sorta kinda hope one day Lex Luthor save a dance for me." They both know though that she's really scanning the crowd for her con-man of a magician, John.

[brooklynislandgirl]

Soft Sunday Meme: PDA that’s a definite ‘no’?

Soft Sunday Mornings || Accepting

Breathless, she winds her arms around his neck. His hands roam restlessly at the small of her back before they settle on the curves of her behind, lifting and separating. Elbow knocks into the table unheeded as they continue to kiss with passion. Beth's gaze flies to Tabby's and then her eyes roll so hard that even she fears that her retinas might detach from the strain. She shifts her chair so that the amorous couple isn't in her line of sight, then does her level best to put the lurid display out of mind, though not before she picks up her fork and chases some of the lettuce around her plate. "I mean, I get it," she murmurs quietly. "I can imagine bein' so in love, so full of desire dat you don' care who sees you....but like...not in front of people's salads. Dere's children here. Dere's strangers on da sidewalk. Dere's...a lot goin' on an' no one really needs f' see it. Time and place an' all." Public affection isn't anything Beth is against. If anything, there's certain situations that risking being caught in flagrante delicto can be arousing in a dark, secretive way. Maybe she doesn't realise how much she sounds like Andy, just then. Maybe the second hand embarrassment she feels hits a little too close to home. Guilt is front and centre. "I'm sorry. We could...get coffee and dessert somewhere else, don' wanna ruin lunch and da afternoon wi' dis." Her side-eye toward the oblivious couple drips acid, but her smile hides it.

[brooklynislandgirl]

Asexual questionnaire #16. Do Tabby need to fight anyone for making Beth feel un-okay about being ace?

The Real Feeling || Accepting

"I mean..." She begins and cuts herself short, eyes half closing and a sigh scuttles over her lips. "He means well, I jus' don' t'ink Panda gets it any beddah'n I do some days, ya know?"

Does she think tiny and mighty can take her brother? Absolutely. He can be a chauvinistic pig sometimes but that means he really won't hit a 'girl' especially when she isn't terribly bigger or more threatening than Beth herself.

"I also t'ink its left ovah rust from da Admiral." It is the man who first made her feel uncomfortable about herself in every possible way. If she was too smart, she wasn't fit to be a wife, her ultimate goal in his mind. If she didn't do as well as she could academically, she was clearly stupid or lazy. Her inability to procreate was a disgrace as grandchildren and great grandchildren was how to keep the clan growing, especially in light of Auntie Aisling living 'the devil's lie' with her whore, or as Andy and Beth called her, Auntie Siobhan. And the more and more it became apparent that Beth didn't particularly want any relationship regardless of its sanctification by the Church, things got worse. She was mentally ill ~not untrue but her disorder had nothing to do with her preferences or lack thereof. She was broken. Also possibly true but part of that was his blame to carry, after all she was the recipient of half his genetics. There was simply no winning with the man and Beth is already exhausted by what she can imagine he would say to Tabby, and just how much broken stemware would be left in the wake.

"I also don' t'ink it entirely fair t' say dat I don't have any kine sexuality. I do...it jus' doesn't fit mos' labels. Small-kine is close...ah...demi, dey call it. Or grey. Mos'ly romantically drawn t' kane, but two times I had...feelings... it was for wahine." One lithe shoulder rises and falls. "Nevah really maddah, mebbe. Nevah last." She doesn't like the residual upset lingering in her bones, changes the subject because it's easier than internalised dwelling. "Wha'bout you? How ole before you figure yaself out? An' how easy was it to accept?"

[brooklynislandgirl]

🍁 + Questions are hard so what's an aspect of Beth that you would seize the opportunity to explore more.

Curious Cat || Always Accepting

I honestly would love to develop Beth's mental health better, especially the way it is with Andy, and the way it is with other people, because the two are vastly different. I mean this in the way that Beth has rapid-cycling Bipolar Disorder.

A brief explanation: RC/BiPD is often diagnosed when a person experiences for or more episodes of mania {or the milder version, hypomania} and depressive episodes within the scope of a one year {12 month} period. For some, rapid cycling can be temporary, and it can occur with any type of bipolar disorder.

With Andy, it's as mild as it can get. Just as her spark of life offsets his pain and bodily dysfunction, he's always been critically aware of her mental health, charting things in his own way and mending the rough parts when he could. In most verses where he ends up dying as per canon, he never actually gets strong enough to cure his sister, a regret that he carries with him into the afterlife. In the verses where he survives, Beth makes it very difficult for him to even try and their relationship is never what it once was. Andy is hyper-protective about her illness and her in general, which leads to the occasional outburst of his temper.

As for herself, Beth doesn't really like to talk about it. It's bad enough that she can't hide her audio-processing disorder, she doesn't want to throw something else into the mix. She is extremely {negatively} self-aware and self-critical. A giant portion of this comes from growing up under the Admiral's constant abuse, the man has effectively destroyed Beth's sense of self, and her worth to others. She does her best to take her mood-stabilisers as prescribed but those are only crutches and not cures. During Beth's highs she often feels like she doesn't need them. During her lows, she's convinced they're part of what makes her sick, and that the Admiral has something to do with it.

Beth gravitates towards other 'damaged' people because of these feelings, getting on with people who are not neurotypical or with their own challenges than she does with anyone else. Deep down, it's easy to believe that people with disabilities of any kind or those with some kind neurodivergence might more readily accept her. The reason I don't delve into it is...I have clinical {chronic} depression, but not bipolar disorder and I don't want to misrepresent anything or upset anyone, especially my beautiful friends who do live with it. Also, as you can imagine, those threads are not exactly fun to right for the other person, and none of my partners signed up to be therapists. {With apologies to: @ronmanmob, @whosxafraid, and @mynameisanakin for having threads where this is a root cause}

[brooklynislandgirl]

Happy Birthday Turtle!

May it be a day of peace, pleasure, and salted to your taste.

❤

Thank you Tabs! You are so kind and so sweet and I appreciate you very much. Thank you for the gorgeous gifts, and for the well wishes and it’s so far shaping up well. I am very glad you could be celebrating with me and much love <3

[brooklynislandgirl]

Would you believe….

Ancient Seat The rock has been a habitation for men for thousands of years. Before the coming of the First men it seems likely that the children of the forest and giants made their homes in its caverns. Yeah, George.  I know. I heard you the first fifteen times. But what you make in your fantasy isn’t the myth. Or the majesty. You  want prophecy? How ‘bout I give you one. Fingal’s Cavern that gave him respite from the sea. The voices of the old still whisper him advice. A throne to be reclaimed when he is king again. Scion of the Sun. Brightest when the Shadow falls.

…..Caw,  in tones of ardent affection.

Wings and Things.

[brooklynislandgirl]

👑 + Wild West AU Beth (look it's cheating but I do what I want)

Every Face a Different Shade || Accepting

WOULD I: YES / MAYBE / NO In a fricken heartbeat, because I LOVE the Weird West story you wrote, and I would give my left... chicken nugget... to write a Deadlands AU. Not that anyone really knows what that is but whatever, I too do what I want.

HAVE I EVER BEFORE: YES / NO

I hesitate to answer this one as yes or no, because the lovely K over at @goodlawman and I have a Deadwood AU in which one of Beth's past lives {Rebecca O'Shae} lives and thrives and is making merry hell for one Seth Bullock, and we have many plans for this, but Rebecca, as much as I love her, isn't *actually* Beth, just the host for future Beth's avatar. <insert a hundred Mage the Ascension theses and explanations here> Bonus: I don't know exactly what I would call the sideblog or the verse for Weird West Beth specifically so instead, please have this sound-track. 1. Robin Loxley and Jay Hawk || The Crop Won't Ever Come 2. Black Rebel Motorcycle Club || Beat The Devil's Tattoo 3. Willie Watson || Gallows Pole 4. Rhiannon Giddens || Wayfaring Stranger 5. David Swallow Jr || Red Road Song

ICON & WRITING SAMPLE (IF YES TO EITHER PREV. QUESTION):

When she leaves the ranch, it is all raven hair pulled into tight braids shielded from the sun and from prying eyes with a respectable bonnet. No matter the bite of a Texas sun, sleeves are buttoned to the palm, neck buttoned to the point of choking that has nothing to do with dust. Florals when she can find it, cloth dyed by her own hand when she can't. Not a bead, quill, feather, or skin to be seen. She keeps her head bowed and speaks more softly than even how she walks.

She lets the town steal her voice, her sense of self, everything they can take away to find her palatable, but the whispers still remain. They burn within from the heat of their own jealousy. They envy the seeming effortlessness of the Riley prosperity no matter how much is given to them. They say that she sacrifices animals. They pull their squirming children closer when she passes by. The truth they do not seem capable of embracing or even imagine in their worst fears is... if her medicine were so powerful, there would be none of them in the lands. As one the Nations would rise up and drive their kind back to the sea. They would shout in one great roar that would thunder like the vanishing buffalo: NO.

But this they cannot do, much as her cousin or grandfather would like. Just as she can not return to the people, and leave her brother alone.

What she cannot deny is that sometimes she does water the thirsty ground with blood. It is her own and it is enough that the giving leaves her nearly as pale as the woman who scorn her and the men of town who would make a try at her if they did not fear the swiftness of her brother's gun. Just as they feared his reputation, his clout with President Lee, and the Ranger star he wears. They have their own medicine too, these Wašíču.

So perhaps it comes to no surprise when she stops outside of Miss Tabby's saloon, and the gathered crowd parts ways like her brother's holy book talks of the great red sea. She reads the poster hung from the peeling wooden beam holding up the sagging roof. Shootists Wanted To Form A Posse For the express purpose of Travelling to Dante's Ferry, Texas and apprehending certain Criminal Elements known to be engaged in Wanton Murder, cattle Rustling, and other Acts of Thievery. Good Pay & ammunition included. See Marshal Stanhope at 52 Taylor Street. ~*~

Just as the poster promised, Elmer Stanhope is found in his office the next morning. He eyes the group as though at any moment he expects there to be lions leaping out from under his desk or the 3:10 suddenly come busting through his walls. She can't help but allow the corners of her lip to twitch knowing exactly what causes him such distress. The poster had asked for Shootists. Her brother is clearly cut from that cloth, as is Sam beside him. But herself, Miss Tabby, and her cousin in full buckskins and war-paint are not. The Marshal, if he could be called that, is a terrible wreck of a man. She's not seen bleary, bloodshot eyes like that since the War. His grey hair is tousled, lank. Thinning atop his sweating pate. But it his breath that nearly knocks her over. The man is drunker than a peach-orchard sow! Still, he is enough in his wits that he watches them enter without a word, then quivering hands reaches for a shot glass in front of him, filling it with rye from a bottle. Tabby links her arm through Beth's, primly. "Howdy, 'Migos." He pauses and licks plump, sticky lips. "And of course...ah...ladies. I reckon you're here 'bout th' job." He tips his head back and drains the glass.

"Yes'sir," Andy says first while beside him, Sam touches a hand to the brim of his hat. The next few moments flood by like the stream of voices at a cattleman's auction. The Marshal is offering five hundred dollars each, plus two reloads worth of cartridges for any weapons the men carry. Andy was nearly about to mention the excess of such a price, while Beth herself knew instantly that the danger must be extraordinary when her brother is stopped short. The final sum comes out to a thousand dollars each, and four reloads. Sam whistles through his teeth while Beth steps forward. "Marshal, might you explain more...about the so-called 'criminal elements' mentioned in the poster?" He pales at her question before intoning, "Well, ma'am, S'hard to explain, really. Certainly there's a ranch full o' murderers east o' Dante's Ferry. But recently they's....other things gone wrong around town. Things I cain't rightly explain. And you ain't the first posse I've sent." He reaches into his desk drawer and hands over a page torn from a recent issue of the Epitaph. The men look over it before handing it back to Tabby, and Andy explains quietly to Chaska what they read and what's put a solemn grit into their faces. Beth, however, doesn't really listen. She is more concerned over the clearly intoxicated Marshal and his whiskey breakfast, but also that he's abjectly terrified. Of what, he's not saying. She goes to put a hand on his arm but he jerks it just out of her reach.

She cranes her neck back, and fixes him with a certain gaze. "...Sorry, ma'am. An' I'm sorry y'all have agreed to do this, but someone's got to go to Dante's Ferry. Somebody has to help them people 'fore the darkness plumb swallers 'em whole. And that's you, I reckon, 'cause there ain't nobody else left to do the job. Certainly not me, I cain't do it. I...cain't face him again. He's faster'n any gunslinger I've seen, and he never misses. His count'nance... dear Lord...jest thinkin' 'bout it strikes my soul ice-cold. You can see the fires o' Hell burnin' in them eyes."

Tabby frowns. "Who?"

"Papers call 'im th' Deadly Drifter. Not that he's any of your business, even if you was the hand of the Almighty come t' deliver us. It's all the other mess I 'spects ya to deal with, and God willin' you come back with proof t' claim your due. Without you, them people's good as dead."

"Wašté," Chaska says under his breath, and Beth finds herself choking back a sound, while Tabby raises a brow. She knows how Beth feels about the dark, just as surely as Andy does. Sam blows out a hard breath that puffs his cheeks and tips his hat back. "S'pose the ladies are going to need a wagon to travel in, and might as well bring some extras. What say you, Riley?"

"We'll see it done."

[brooklynislandgirl]

❔ Could Beth be in a polyamorous relationship that included another woman?

Soft Sundays || Accepting

In as much as Beth could be in a relationship with anyone, yes. Being both demisexual and quoiromantic as she is, or at least that she's been able to identify most closely with, relationships are tricky things. She is slow to find herself connecting with other people, regardless of gender. There are too many walls built up over decades of emotional neglect to outright abuse. There are too many pitfalls in understanding the motives of others and what exactly constitutes a romantic relationship from a platonic one.

Women are a lot more nebulous than men in her opinion because by the time she might notice an attraction to one, she's trapped in the ice-age of the frigid Friend-Zone. Not to mention it is really rare for Beth to meet a woman who even likes her, especially once they've met Andy. Beth isn't bitter about that. And it happens with men, too. Her brother is just naturally more attractive, easier to get along with, and isn't broken or weird or any of the other dozens of things that Beth has heard in the past.

Naturally, the easiest way for Beth to find herself in a polyamorous relationship if for the person to already be part of a couple or more, and then slowly let her natural romanticism guide the way. If the person she loves also loves someone else, she is more than likely to love them, too.

I use they/them pronouns because gender doesn't really matter to Beth in that way.

{and in at least one circumstance, Beth finds herself in an unrequited {?} relationship with an individual who is bi-gendered, and almost prefers the female presenting aspect of the individual as a romantic partner, though she loves the whole person entirely}. When pressed to express her sexuality, she often cites hetero-romantic because she doesn't have any real experience with other girls, and she tries to represent things in as truthful a manner as possible.

Beth also tends to prefer being a non-participating sexual partner in a polyamorous situation.

Beth tends to choose people to fall in love with as those she stands no chance of actually having a relationship with; particularly older persons, people who identify themselves as homosexual, inhuman creatures from the dawn of time, aliens, monsters, and the like.

Make of that what you will, and I am very sorry.

[brooklynislandgirl]

💒 What kind of wedding would they want to have? (roll the dice on the verse)

Soft Sundays || Accepting Beth pauses and straightens her back. One arm bent behind her, the other pressed to her brow. Flour covers most visible places and the long skirts of her dress as they flag around her ankles. Stray wisps of dark hair escape her braids with a little encouragement from the wind. She dusts herself off and goes to porch, sitting on one of the two chairs set out while Tabby is visiting. Chairs Andy will bring in after the sunsets. But for now it takes some of the pressure off her back and it feels good to be off her feet momentarily. She’s been awake before the sun, first cooking breakfast and making coffee before settling into the rest of the daily chores. From where they sit, Andy can be seen as a shadow in miniature on the horizon. He’s bringing in the cattle so they aren’t lost when the cold and the snow comes. These are autumn’s dying days, the last warmth before the dark comes too early. She pours herself a pitcher of the lemonade made for their guest and lets the sweet wetness rinse the dust from her throat. Her gaze never leaves her brother’s silhouette. “We...do not have wedding ceremonies like...” she lets the word hang silently in the air, not wanting to offend. “If a man wants himself a woman, he might take horses, tobacco, or something else of great value to her father. If her father thinks this worthy, then he might let her leave his lodge to go with the man. Of course a woman could make the same offer. Amongst our people, everyone ~man and woman alike~ are equals. Sometimes a man will have more than one wife, often the sister or sisters of his first wife. A widow might marry her deceased husband’s brother, or if a man’s wife died, he might marry one or more of her sisters. In some tribes, amongst some of the People, a man might fall in love with the wife of another, and they would sit and discuss things. If all partners agreed, then spouses would be exchanged for an agreed upon time. Sometimes, they would make a joint house between all the ones involved.” The priests and men who claimed to do the work of the Great Spirit often from found this unnerving and demonised the things they saw. She does not hold Tabby amongst them, the woman was unusual even mixed in with her own. “I have even heard stories that some young men when they leave they’re childhood behind are taken in the charge of their mother’s brother’s wife, who then instructs him in the arts of pleasing a woman, and continues to do so until he takes a wife, becoming a sort of...junior husband to her.” Beth dusts her hands, and leans forward on the edge of her chair.  “I do not know the truth of this, I have not seen it with my own eyes and do not presume to speak of the matter with any degree of expertise. What I do know is that there is not typically a ceremony involved, only recognition among the people that two have become one. And I do not think about these things. We are never going to wed, he and I.” She gestures toward Andy with her chin.

Her face becomes inscrutable, as it often does when the subject dances anywhere close to herself and her sibling. Whether or not the idea of being alone or alone at least in the eyes of the good townsfolk bothers her. Whether she years for the pretty dresses, one even from the store or catalogue, perhaps ribbons in her hair. A solemn mass or blessing beneath the oak tree. A sumptuous feast and raucous wedding night to follow.

“Do you dream of these things?” I see your eyes when you look at him. Do you think you would ever find yourself given to another? Some words are never said aloud, they are cruel knives that ought not be wielded against a friend. “What would this wedding of yours look like?”

[brooklynislandgirl]

TMIT: for Beth from Tabby while they are trapped in the midnight circus because why not. “So, with all this magick and fae and other weird crap, and we might, y’know, die, I’m gonna ask. Is there some cosmic reason that a shark bit your leg and Riley lost his? Like did you piss off some leg spirit in a past life or is it just coincidence?”

TMI Tuesday || Always Accepting

Beth can't prove it, though she knows something is off. She knows Ke kilonae exists, and that others of her kind can hear the Chant of Signs that the gods sing, but she has never been able to feel the rhythm to it, never felt its rhyme with her own senses. Has never seen it flow in and around other things, but time within the Circus is...broken somehow. She doesn't know if Tabby's question is meant to distract her from that, or if it's something to help her take a breath of respite while they seem safe enough in the empty fortune-teller's tent.

This circus is a nightmare. They should have felt that the moment they walked past the ticket booth and maybe they had. Ignored it for the enthusiasm of doing something dark and wilful. But the longer they perused the displays, the events the more damaging the incidents became until it was impossible to ignore the obvious; the wyrm-taint of the Midnight Cabaret surrounded them. Then the hunt began. Beth paces through the confines of the tent, bone athame pressed against her thigh just beneath her skirt, and that will be her last choice of defense if Andy doesn't come rescue them soon. Now, the question is odd and she doesn't really want to answer and neither can she really laugh about it. But with all that Tabby has seen and now knows, there isn't a real reason to hold back.

Beth half forms a fist with one hand, crackling the knuckles first on one, then the other and sighs before sitting on a crate pushed up against the sidewall. Her voice is low and there's a wild flutter laced through it.

"So I mean probably no kine I say aftah da t'ings we see tonight gonna sound weird or mebbe...mebbe it will an' ya goddah make of it wha' ya will but..."

How to put this in context. "So... ya saw dem wolves dat walk like men. Garou, dey called. Weah-woofs. But dey no only kind dat change. Gaia...yeah, dat Gaia, da Eart' maddah Herself... she create many many kind. Some are gone now, some are rarely seen. My grandfaddah on my maddah side... he one of dem. We call ourselves Rokea. Means...weah-sharks. He a mano niuhi, man-eatah, a great white...but he doesn't eat people. In fact, he one of da rare ones who heard Sea call him to Unsea. He met oddah changin' kind an' decided to make friends wi' dem, and not enemies. Make oddah Rokea really mad. See...Rokea don' like people. Don' care for any kind not born of Sea. Call dem like my grand-faddah Same Bito, an' have a blood hunt on 'em, to be kill on sight. Long long story an' mebbe I aks him t' tell you some time. "But dis hunt not jus' for Same Bito, but also dey kinfolk. Kinfolk...have changin' blood in dem but are not changers demselves. We important because we are da bridge between changers an' da world, and kinfolk...wheddah animal or human, are da only way dey have to make more. Da one dat bite my leg...I t'ink was tryin' f' figure out if I were kin or changer. But Andy was dere t' save me.

"An' as for his leg....we aren't jus' braddah and sistah. We share a soul between us, an' I know how dat sounds but... He say it best when he say... In da Beginnin', all was One an' da One was all. But some kine happen...an' Da One got broken, into da many. Some pieces small, some pieces big. But every human has a piece of da One inside dem. An' usually, dat piece stay sleeping. Oddah times...it wakes up an' ya get...people like us. Awakened beings who can do magick. Real magick. "Andy an' me...we were always supposed to be one big piece only mebbe we were so big we had to break. Become smaller. Every lifetime we go round... an' we have...life aftah life, in da river of Time.... an' what happens to one almost always happens to da oddah. An' not jus' cause we siblings. Sometimes we're lovers or friends. Sometimes we bitter enemies. Sometimes we don't meet at all, an' dose are our worst lives. Dis time...braddah an' sistah. Like twins, sharin' dat soul. An' it allow him to use some mana but leaves me incapable, an' vice versa. "Wen he wen' had his accident... I felt him dyin' an' every t'ing dat I am an' evah will be reached out t' him in terror, in fear, in as perfect love as could be had...an' it save him from dying. But dat kine magick...comes wi' a heavy cost, Tabs. I didn't know how f' use it wisely at da time. Didn't even really know it existed but dat meant... he was stuck wi' it. Da consequences. So now, even if I know how t' heal him. Give back his leg, heal his scars an' his pain... I nevah can. Not wit'out causin' him such catastrophic injury dat it would surpass what he experience an' neiddah one of us wan' do dat. So really...da cost of livin' was da sacrifice of his leg an' every kine he loved to do before..." She spreads her hands out wide and stares at the back of them like they are two of the very same monstrosities the girls have spent the night running from. "So...really...is my fault." Or it's coincidence. And Beth knows that coincidence is not really real.

[brooklynislandgirl]

Magical Frosted Forest- What is your favorite mythological animal? Why?

Candles Burn a Hole in the Floor || Accepting

It'd been a trade off. Tabby had brought over the new-ish Clash of the Titans because she figured Beth would enjoy it. And she had for the most part except the ones where she noticed the changes made. Some aspects were stylish and the actors made an honourable showing. She enjoyed it right up until the disrespect of Bubo, at which point she'd ranted and raved until Tabby agreed to watch the ancient 1981 version. She is a little petulant toward this new version, the idea that this film is only a cousin and a poor one at that. Tabby hides her smile because Beth doesn't really rise passionately of much these days. And after both films, there's coffee. And snacks. And debate. Beth picked up Tabby's question and turned it over and over in her thoughts. The first thing that comes to mind because it is always there, lurking in the shadows with a lashing tail and sharp teeth are the same-bito, those kin of hers who were born of Sea as both shark and human. Who broke off from the rest of the Rokea because they saw wisdom in working with all the other creatures created by the Emerald Mother, who even gave birth to Sea. But those are not Beth's stories to tell and she doesn't know them all, despite all the markings she bears of her heritage. She will not break that kapu. She could mention the rusalki. Originally they were spoken of as water spirits who aided in fertility rites, coming up out of the rivers and lakes to bring life giving moisture to the fields. Then around the turn of the nineteenth century they somehow transformed in unquiet spirits of unhappy brides, newly pregnant women, or some other sad and beautiful maiden who died near water or drowned in it. Funny how that happens; joy turning to sorrow, and how a mood can make a woman something soft but needed, something to be desired, or a monster. But Tabby also doesn’t need that kind of insight into Beth’s mind. “Mo’o,” she says, finally.  “Sometimes dey take bodies like monstrous reptile. Sometimes as tiny geckos. Sometimes as humans. ‘Aumakua or spirits associated wi’ power over weaddah an’ waddah. Whole stories about Hi’iaka-i-ka-poli-o-Pele, Madame Pele’s youngest sistah, an’ her quest to fetch Madame Pele’s lover from anoddah island, in which she defeated six differen’ mo’o. I t’ink I got a book abou’ it if ya wanna read it, but mostly, I jus’ like lizards.” She picks up her coffee and takes a sip. “Why you t’ink dat in almost all myt’ology an’ legend all ovah da world, we always gettin’ short end of da stick. Or more succinctly, who ya mos’ favourite an’ probably tragic female from stories?”

[brooklynislandgirl]

♥  When they have a crush on someone, how do they let them know?

The Courtship of a Nurse Shark || Accepting

“...W-why would you evah do dat...” It isn’t a question so much as a startled statement. Which all in all is unusual for Beth, first to be so vehemently passionate about anything that it immediately shapes her tone and colours her words, and second to burst out of her like a bull on a pulled gate. Normally, she takes anything Tabby says or asks and weighs it carefully against her own experience, then takes time to lay out her evidence and defense of her own opinion. An actual respectful debate or whole-hearted agreement. But with her expression, with her outburst, Tabby might as well have simply urged Beth to fish up a shark, butcher it with one of Andy’s sharpest knives, and serve it as a kind of sashimi. Her brows furrow above her eyes which have become quite dark, the amber in them eclipsing the green. Lines radiate outward from pursed lips and there’s high colour in her cheeks, a mark of some inner shame. She eases her chair back and rises from the table so that she can begin that perpetual motion of pacing. Crushes as Tabby calls them are few and far between in Beth’s life. She was already in her early twenties before she’d felt the first rush of feelings for anyone beyond friendship, beyond her definition of ohana. He’d been older, in a position of power and prestige, and Beth had swallowed down every ounce of feeling with as much willpower as she could so as not to tarnish his reputation or allow even the whisper of impropriety to rise up with all of its hydra heads: guilt, shame, rejection, rebuke, denial and so on. Romantic feelings always fade in time, even if they are closely and tenderly nurtured. Or they never catch flame at all and lie cold and heavy. At some point, one realises that the only consistent factor in such things is...themselves. That no matter how hard you try or how deeply you feel, no matter what you have to offer, it will never be good enough. Someone will always come along who is better, who is brighter, who is all the things you can never be. True love is only a concept in fairy tales, in romantic literature, in movies and television programmes where the people are paid to act out the fantasy. And so, the best way to protect oneself from being hurt is to feel nothing at all. It is safer that way, it’s better. Putting one’s head down and losing oneself in one’s work, in one’s community, in one’s family, that’s what matters.And given enough time, given enough distance, then maybe...just maybe, it doesn’t hurt. After all, there’s a reason why it’s called a ‘crush’. “If someone love you, or even jus’ like ya li’dat...mebbe is mo’beddah t’ wait for dem to say somet’ing. Wait for dem t’ make da firs’ move. An’ even den... I dunno. I’m da wrong person f’ aks dat. Beddah t’ aks Andy, or Jay...or anyone else. An’ if ya got a crush on someone we bot’ know, mebbe is beddah ya don’ tell me. I’m terrible keepin’ secrets.”