#i keep saying ''saskatchewan!!!''

[ihavemanyhusbands]

The Black Kaiser's Nightmare

Duncan Vizla x Assassin!FemReader

A/N: Shout out to beelmons and G for their endless support and help with my fics <3 :') where would I be without y'all?

Summary: You run into your long-time nemesis in the last place you ever expected, but things take a turn for the worst when you find yourself stuck with him during a snowstorm.

WC: 7.2k words

Warnings: SMUT! (18+ ONLY, MINORS DNI), enemies to lovers speedrun into the bed, mentions and depictions of violence, fighting, accidental assassination of a third party, some serious bickering, abundant cursing, rough sex (unprotected, don't do it at home!), choking, very light knifeplay, dirty talk, slight degradation mixed with some praise, rampant sexual tension, ooey gooey lovesick fools who are just SO SO STUBBORN, I think that's it but lmk if I missed anything!

You are responsible for your own media consumption!

----

Triple Oak, Montana.

It’d been a while since you’d last found yourself in such a quaint little town, especially in the middle of winter, but you supposed you’d been in way worse places. It was barely even on the map, which made it a convenient place to lay low. 

You didn’t have to worry about interacting with many people, and you sure as hell didn’t think you’d encounter anyone you knew. At least for the time being, you felt like you could relax just a little bit while you made plans.

In a few more days, you’d continue driving north and cross the Canadian border into Saskatchewan, where you were meant to carry out your next assignment. Your target was a skeevy arms dealer that had to move his whole operation out of Serbia and was now shacked up somewhere in the vast prairies. 

You’d been tracking his activity for some time, slowly narrowing down the list of possible locations. You’d also scored some insider information about a big upcoming transaction with a terrorist cell, and your goal was to get to him before the sale was finalized.

Successfully eliminating him would pay handsomely, and you were already planning on a months-long vacation in which you’d go fully off the radar. Preferably somewhere by the beach, where you didn’t feel the constant threat of frostbite.

You pulled into a small gas station — the only one to be found in a long stretch of the highway between the town and more secluded cabins  — and occupied one of the three measly pumps. There was only one other old pickup truck next to you, but the owner was nowhere to be seen. 

You blew hot air into your hands as you walked into the convenience store, eager for some coffee despite how shitty it was. 

“Hey Lou,” you said to the now familiar attendant, the little bell above the door ringing as you pushed in. “How’s it goin’?”

“Eh, slow, the usual,” he shrugged. “At least it’s decently warm in ‘ere. They say there’s gonna be a snowstorm over the weekend, starting tonight.”

“Shit, really?” You groaned, not only because you loathed the freezing temperatures, but because it would set you back by a few more days. 

“Yup, perfect time to cozy up with the missus back at home.”

You poured yourself a large cup of black coffee and snapped the lid on top. On the way back to the register, you grabbed a couple of magazines and a pack of Ding-Dongs to eat on the road.

“Well, lucky you,” you said, putting everything on the counter. “I gotta find ways to keep myself busy and warm in case I lose power.”

As you spoke, the door to the restroom opened behind you and a tall, rugged-looking man stepped out. His eyes instinctively flickered between the two of you, even if he couldn’t see your face. He lingered close to the back, trying not to bring attention to himself.

“You sure you’ll be good all by yourself out there?” Lou asked. “Enough supplies and all?”

“Yeah, I’ll be fine. I can take care of myself,” you said, fishing cash out of your wallet. “Give me thirty on number two, also.”

“You got it, tough gal.”

You chuckled as he rang you up, glancing outside. The man behind you tensed, gripped with the dread that came with sudden recognition. Your voice was one he knew well, the very same one he’d heard all seventeen times he’d almost died. Well, eighteen if he counted that one brief altercation in Belfast.

And that laugh… How many times had it been directed at him? Taunting him, teasing him, driving him utterly mad. 

It was perhaps the only thing that stopped him from actually getting rid of you that one night you slept so soundly at some shoddy little hotel in Madrid.  He’d watched your chest's steady rise and fall from his spot in the darkness, and he just couldn’t bring himself to do it.

And now he’d most likely have to pay for the consequences of his mercy. 

Lou looked over your shoulder at him, but you didn’t immediately notice since you were absently flipping through one of the magazines. 

“Need anything else, Duncan?” He offered. “Pack of Winstons?”

Your skin prickled at these two very familiar details, but you didn’t move, still staring down at the magazine without actually reading. It was probably a mere coincidence. Really, there had to be dozens of Duncans in the world that just so happened to smoke Winstons.

But then, a very particular smell reached your nose — cheap cologne you didn’t know the name of, with strikingly bitter notes that had flooded your nostrils when his hands were tightly wrapped around your neck.

You glanced up at the fisheye mirror above the register… and there he fucking was, in all his deadly glory. The Black Kaiser himself.

You couldn’t help an amused huff, especially after hearing the faintest rustle of a knife being unsheathed under his coat.

“Are you sure you want to stab me with that, old man?” You said slowly over your shoulder. 

“Less impersonal than a gun. I owe you that much, don’t I?” he said with that deep, gravelly voice of his that always made a stubborn tingle form at the base of your spine.

Your hand just barely inched towards the hidden holster of your gun. “Oh, but you know I get a little crazy when the knives come out.”

Lou looked between the two of you, confusion and a tinge of fear in his eyes. 

“Uh, you two know each oth—”

Before he could finish his sentence, you whirled around and shot Duncan’s head. He ducked, but not before hurling a large knife at you in return. You dove out of the way, hearing it whizz right past your ear, and it sank into Lou’s forehead with a wet thud. His body slumped behind the counter, blood spraying over the stuff you’d intended to buy.

“Hey!” You yelled from your hiding spot. “I didn’t even get my change back!”

“You’re not gonna need it anymore,” he said gruffly, his voice not too far from you. “But before that… want to tell me what the fuck you’re doing here?”

“I could ask you the same,” you said, glancing up at the fisheye mirror once more. 

Unfortunately for you, you couldn’t get a very good look at where he was, but you couldn’t stay put. You slowly began to inch to the end of the aisle, staying low. “Let me guess, you missed me so much these last three years that you decided to hunt me down.”

He scoffed. “Three years was not nearly long enough time away from you.”

You dove around the corner to the next aisle, but he wasn’t there. You started pulling yourself forward, but suddenly you were flipped onto your back. You were about to whip your gun around, but it was harshly knocked out of your grasp, sliding against the linoleum. You thrashed against the weight that pressed down on you, but he pinned your hands down beside your head. 

“Who sent you?” He asked. 

“No one sent me, you paranoid geezer!” You sneered, driving your knee up full force right into his crotch. “Not everything’s about you.”

He growled at the pain, swaying to the side, his grip on your hands relaxing. You pushed him off of you, scrambling to get to your gun. Right as you managed to get a hold of it, he was on you again, pulling you back by the legs. You tried twisting around all the way, firing another shot semi-blindly. It narrowly missed his shoulder, shattering one of the windows.

“Can’t kill me without paralyzing me, eh, little Nightmare?” He taunted.

“Oh, you’d like that wouldn’t you?”

You swallowed a scream as he stepped on the hand you held your weapon with, his heavy boot cracking your wrist. Your fingers splayed involuntarily due to the pain, and he bent down to take the gun. He kept it pointed at you as he removed his boot from your wrist and grabbed your arm.

“You’re coming with me,” he stated, starting to pull you up. 

“Like hell I am!” You spat, but you froze as you felt the barrel pressed against the back of your head.

“You were saying?”

He dragged you to your feet, leading you through the broken window, glass crunching under your boots. The wind seemed icier than it had been when you first arrived, which made you remember Lou’s warning about a snowstorm.

There was no way in hell you’d be stuck with him during it, so you’d have to find a way to weasel out of his grasp… and kill him in the process. 

He led you towards his truck, but you pretended to trip at the last second, bending down and retrieving a knife you had hidden in your boot. You stabbed backward, aiming for his femoral artery, but he moved and the knife stabbed into his thigh muscle instead.

“Motherfucker,” he hissed through clenched teeth, but he didn’t let go of you, tightening his grip on your arm. He fired off a warning shot into the air, which made you flinch a little. “Try me again and I won’t hesitate to put the next bullet through your thick fucking skull. I only have so much patience.”

He shoved you into the passenger seat of the truck, managing to tie you up with the seatbelt. Your bound hands were still slick with his blood, and you smiled triumphantly at him as he slid into the driver’s seat, immediately peeling out of the gas station.

“This is what gets you hard, isn’t it?” you said, raising an eyebrow at him. “You’re kind of a sick fuck, old man… but I didn’t expect any better from you.”

He said nothing, instead momentarily glaring at you. He grunted as he pulled the knife out of his leg, tossing it out of the window. You grumbled about him owing you a knife, but he continued to ignore you. He drove mostly in silence, winding through the icy roads as he gripped his wounded leg with one hand.

So far, it had been one of your tamest encounters. Really, it had all sort of felt like a game, but neither of you had won quite yet. After all, a game such as this could not be left unfinished.

Usually, the circumstances were vastly different. Your respective agencies had assigned you the same target a couple of times, and it always turned into a competition on who would finish the job first. As it turned out, the two of you were very competitive.

You’d left plenty of souvenirs on each other every single time you crossed paths – broken bones, an assortment of scars, and bruises as dark as the midnight sky. You wondered vaguely how much more damage you might make by the end of the day.

Why neither of you had succeeded in killing each other was… a bit of a mystery. Maybe he saw something in you that reminded him of himself, or perhaps he was growing soft with age. He would never admit it, but he’d had plenty of fun in this deadly dance with you so far, and it seemed a shame to let it come to its conclusion so soon. 

He’d have to do it though, after some thorough interrogation.

Soon enough, he pulled up a long gravel road hidden among the tall pine trees. In the clearing ahead, you saw what you supposed was his cabin. It was modestly sized and a little dilapidated, but at least it seemed to be sturdy enough to withstand harsh conditions.

“Nice place,” you said sarcastically. “I don’t suppose you have many visitors?”

“Rarely,” he said without looking at you. “I like the quiet. No one’s going to bother us here.”

“You mean no one’s gonna come running when you scream?”

He grunted, readjusting his position in his seat. You were mostly tied up at the arms so your legs had some room to move. Rookie mistake on his part, which you would definitely take advantage of. 

Before he could pull up in front of the actual cabin, you leaned back and kicked at the steering wheel. The truck swerved to the right, throwing you against the window. He tried to correct it on time, slamming on the brakes, but the snow made it careen right into a tree. 

It wasn’t a tremendous crash, but the windshield still broke, glass raining down on both of you. You were both disoriented for a moment from the whiplash, but then you began to untangle yourself from the seatbelt. You kicked at him when he tried to reach for you, but he managed to pin your legs down.

“Can’t you stay put for one fucking second!?” He growled, fully bracketing you between his sturdy legs as he freed you from the seatbelt. 

You panted heavily, trying to thrash beneath him, but he only pressed his legs tighter against your sides. A small, high-pitched whine escaped your lips as you felt the air being squeezed out of you, and you stopped moving. 

“Satis…fied?” You managed between gasps.

“Not nearly,” he said, grabbing a fistful of your hair as he pulled back. “Come here.”

He kept a firm grip on it as he dragged you out of the truck and towards the cabin. He wobbled a little with each step, his leg still bleeding some. 

“I warned you about the knives,” you said. “Even if you didn’t let me finish having fun.”

He chuckled sardonically. “No, you’re mistaken. The fun is only just beginning.”

He led you inside and locked the door behind him, making you sit down on a rickety chair. He bound your hands and feet with duct tape, wrapping some of it around your torso and the back of the chair for good measure. You decided not to struggle for the time being and instead ponder on your next move, covertly glancing at your surroundings for anything useful.

When Duncan was sure you wouldn’t be able to bolt, he went to grab something from an adjacent room, returning with his version of a first aid kit and a bottle of vodka. He looked at you from the corner of his eye as he undid his pants and lowered them to his knees.

“I didn’t realize it was that kind of fun,” you said, raising an eyebrow. 

Still, your gaze was drawn to his crotch first before trailing further down to the injury you’d caused. Rolling his eyes, he plopped down on the bed, which creaked a little under his weight. 

He took a long swig of vodka and then poured some on the bleeding gash, hissing through his teeth. Your expression of slight amusement didn’t change as he glanced at you once more, taking out a needle and thread.

“I have to be careful about infections, who knows where that knife of yours has been?” he said.

You merely watched as he began stitching himself up without so much as a grimace. His breathing was slow and steady as he concentrated, and you found yourself entranced by the precise movements of his hands.

An obscene thought about those hands wriggled into your mind, but you immediately pushed it away. It was all the more reason for you to get the hell out of there, especially now that his pants were down.

As he was finishing his stitches, you leaned forward onto your tiptoes and then threw yourself back as hard as you could. The chair broke apart under you, the force of the blow and the angle in which you fell spraining one of your wrists. The adrenaline made you barely register the pain, and you quickly wriggled out of the tape wrapped around you.

You pulled a Swiss army knife out of your boot and hastily sawed off the tape binding your ankles. He swore as you stood, lifting your arms and slamming them down to free your hands. You stumbled towards the front door and yanked it open.

Outside, the wind howled ferociously and a thick flurry of snow limited your vision of your surroundings. You felt the unforgiving cold slicing through you as you hesitated, knowing deep down that your chances of survival were very slim. 

Still, you were reckless enough to try and brave it. You started towards the steps when you were yanked back once more, your back pinned against the wall and Duncan’s hand around your throat.

“You just don’t fucking learn, do you?” He growled. 

“You only caught me because I hesitated, old man.”

His grip tightened a little in warning. “Didn’t anybody teach you never to hesitate?”

“There is a very fine line between foolishness and courage, you know…” The corners of your mouth twitched, an amused gleam in your eye. “I wonder how often you cross from one side to the other.”

He clenched his teeth and an absolutely devious, cheshire cat grin spread across your face. The mere sight of it made his blood boil with both rage and arousal, and he felt it flowing southward. Your back instinctually arched towards him, as if you could somehow sense the sudden influx of violent desire, and became infected by it.

You stared at each other for a charged moment before he suddenly fell upon you, intent on devouring you. His lips clashed with yours in a fierce kiss and you buried your fingers in his hair, tugging at it as you retaliated.

You bit his lower lip hard, making him groan into your mouth. You used this opportunity to slide your tongue against his, and he moved the hand that had been around your neck toward your jaw. Without thinking, you pressed harder against him, your fingers about to slide under the hem of his sweater.

He clasped your wrist to stop you, assuming you were reaching for some hidden weapon. You whimpered slightly, painfully reminded that it was in fact sprained. He pulled back to look at you, both of you panting heavily and still clutching each other tightly. 

“I fear that line was blurred a long time ago, and I suspect it’s the same case with you,” He murmured. 

His words broke through your daze and you immediately pushed him away from you, cradling your injured hand against your chest. A maelstrom of emotions roiled inside of you, predominantly confusion and a worrisome throb between your legs. 

“And what now?” You asked, glancing out of the window. “It’s clear neither of us are going anywhere any time soon.”

“Now we weather the storm,” he said, crossing his arms over his broad chest.

“No, seriously.”

“I am being serious.”

You huffed in annoyance, pinching the bridge of your nose. “I… can’t believe I’m asking this right now but, maybe we can… put the killing each other thing on hold for a few days?”

“So you were coming for me.”

“No! I wasn’t!” You threw your hands up exasperatedly. “Not that it’s any of your fucking business, but I have work further up north. This was just a pit stop.”

He assessed you for a moment, trying to find any clues that you were lying. You stood your ground, keeping your eyes on his face. He sniffed, leaning against the wall to get his weight off his injured leg. 

“I’m fine with a temporary truce, but only if we both keep our weapons in plain sight at all times.”

“I am a weapon myself, big boy.”

“So am I. I suppose we’ll have to keep an eye on each other as well, then.”

“Fine,” you huffed, stomping to the couch and pulling it over to the kitchen. “I’ll stay on this side of the cabin, you can stay on the other side.”

“What!? This is my house!” He scoffed.

“Yeah, well, I’m being generous by letting you keep your bed. Not to mention, your life.”

He rolled his eyes, limping back over to his bed. “Whatever you say. Now, can I please fix my stitches in peace for one fucking second?”

———————

There was no sleep for the entirety of the first night. 

The cabin creaked and groaned, straining against the disastrously strong wind. Your breaths fogged up in the air as you shivered under the thin blanket Duncan had given you. The cold seemed to seep into your very bones as if punishing you for your decisions. To distract yourself from the chill, you kept an eye on his prone form across the room, knowing well he wasn’t sleeping either. 

When dawn broke, a thin grayish light filtered into the room. The storm raged on and all you wanted to do was doze off, but you were still on edge. You clenched your jaw to keep your teeth from chattering, irritated by a headache. Your mood didn’t get any better when Duncan rose from his bed, crossing towards the kitchen.

“What do you think you’re doing?” You inquired, not moving an inch.

He stopped in his tracks. “I’m hungry. Don’t you want to eat?” 

Your stomach growled in answer and he lifted an eyebrow in slight amusement. You unwillingly threw the blanket off of you, getting up with an annoyed grunt. 

“I’ll give you the food. Let’s see what you’ve got,” you said, rummaging through the cabinets.

“I could just show you…”

“No, stay on your side. Even better, why don’t you go sit back down on your bed?”

He followed orders, not really wanting to start quarreling with you so early in the morning. You finally found some oatmeal packets in one of the cupboards, and you took out a few and poured them into a pot along with some water. You left it to boil over the stove top, crossing your arms over your chest and turning to face him.

“How’s your leg doing, anyway?” You asked. 

“Fine. Why do you care?”

“I really don’t.”

He chuckled. “Good thing you’re a better assassin than you are a liar.”

You sighed deeply. “Well, it is your house, I should at least have some manners.”

He scoffed, still amused. “We are way past manners. Our only courtesy to each other would be a painless death.”

“Oh, really? Painless?” You arched an eyebrow. “Did you forget Lisbon? And that grenade launcher you stole?”

“Okay, well, I wasn’t technically aiming at you. You just happened to be in the way,” He argued. “And it’s not like you haven’t given me the same sort of treatment…”

You shrugged one shoulder. “It’s only fair.”

The two of you lapsed into silence as you turned your attention back to the pot. Once the oatmeal was ready, you spooned it into two bowls and walked to the invisible line that divided the cabin in two.

He got up and met you there, reaching slowly for his bowl so as not to seem threatening. Not that you were viewing him that way, anyway. At least not in the clearly exhausted state he was in. 

“Careful, it’s hot,” you said. “Need me to blow on it first?”

He raised an eyebrow at you, resisting the lure of your impish grin. He figured it was perhaps the more masochistic part of him that made him so drawn to you. Always pushing him, testing him, keeping him on the edge. He would never admit it to himself — much less to you — but it made him feel alive in a way he hadn’t for a really long time.

He muttered a quick thank you before heading back to his side of the room, plopping down on the bed and immediately digging in. If he burned his mouth, he showed no indication of it, but you still huffed in amusement. 

When he was done, he said nothing as he lied down, his back to you once again. A little confused and wary, you watched him as you slowly ate. Soon enough, his breath evened out into a steady rhythm, and you assumed he’d fallen asleep.

You glanced over at the dining table, where the two of you had laid out all your weapons, and considered them for a long moment. 

It seemed too easy to have such a window of opportunity. Normally, you’d have jumped at any such chance, but once more, you hesitated. Not out of any sort of newfound benevolence, but something deeper than that. Something that had been gnawing at you since the previous night.

In the end, you opted not to do anything. Surely, it was bound to be a mistake to not have killed him at that moment. But that would be a problem for another day, perhaps when the storm was over. 

You sat down on the floor by the foot of the couch, back resting against the frame. Sleep deprivation was starting to hit you as well, and you knew that if you were to lay down you would certainly fall asleep. Instead, your eyes focused on the suspiciously peaceful sight of Duncan sleeping. 

The longer you stared, the blurrier the lines seemed to get. Literally. His broad form was smudged into a single sphere, and without much thought about it, everything suddenly went black. 

Until… Shit. 

How long were you asleep?

It had been long since you’d last awakened to a man in front of you, let alone holding a knife to your face. The blade shone in your half-open eyes, reflecting the setting sun outside the window. You must have been unconscious for over two hours.  Stupid, so very stupid.

You blinked the haze of sleep out of your eyes and followed the glint to his fingers, his forearm, up his broad chest and shoulders, until it finally landed on his face. 

 “So, the game ends at last, huh?” you muttered, your gaze not wavering from his.

“Could’ve ended long ago, but it didn’t,” he said, once again looking every bit the coldhearted killer he was. You could still see, however, the presence of doubt in his dark eyes. “Why didn’t you kill me?” 

“I knew you weren’t actually sleeping…”

“Even so,” he pressed, straightening to his full, imposing height. “You didn’t even try. Why?”

You blinked, not really having an answer, not one that would satisfy him at least. What's more, you had a set of questions of your own, ones that would likely also have no answer. 

The words slipped before you could even think about them. “Why did you kiss me?” 

Silence hung between you like a heavy drape. You were cornered in more than one sense. Windows for precaution and escape had long since closed, maybe even since the moment you ran into him in that little gas station. And through hardships, you learned that if there’s no way back, the only way is forward. 

The wound in his thigh didn’t seem to bother him as much anymore, so there was no way you could outrun him. You looked down to avoid his scrutiny and he used the back of his knife to force your chin back up. 

He didn’t speak, but his eyes bore into yours, almost as if seeing through them into parts of you that were foreign even to yourself. The flat part of the blade trailed up to your cheek in what could be interpreted as a caress. 

Your hand unconsciously intended to return the favor, running up his knee to his thigh, extra cautious around his wound. You noticed a change of pattern in his breathing, and so you looked down only to find one of the answers you sought — the print of his hardened cock cruelly imprisoned within his pants. 

“Oh,” you breathed, surprised. Then again, when the reality of what you were looking at fully sank in. “Oh.”

Your hand moved on its own accord again, slowly slipping further up his thigh. Again, he tightly grabbed your wrist before your fingers reached their target, and you hissed in pain. He immediately let go, withdrawing the knife as well.

“Are you hurt?” He asked. 

“A sprained wrist isn’t gonna kill me,” you said, keeping your hand on his leg to drive your point across. “Now that, on the other hand, has to be taken care of.”

“Taken care of, huh?” He rasped, his voice hoarse with want and self-directed anger because of it. 

He raked a hand through your hair, gathering it in his first and pulling your head towards his crotch. He pressed your cheek against his bulge, his hips bucking ever so slightly. 

“And how do you suppose that’s gonna happen?” He added.

“I have a few ideas if you’re open to them,” you panted, ignited in a way that almost fully consumed you. 

His eyes searched your face for a moment, drinking you in as he searched for any indications of doubt, and then he whispered, “Are you sure?” 

This time you didn’t hesitate. “Yes.”

He saw the feverish gleam of hunger in your eyes as he pulled away and unbuckled his belt, pushing down his pants. The outline of his cock was even more prominent through his briefs and you couldn’t help a sharp intake of breath at the sheer size of him. He was still holding onto your hair, stepping closer and effectively cornering you against the couch. 

You boldly started to reach for the hem of his briefs, but he said, “No. I want you to use your teeth.”

“Getting a little bold there, old man,” you said with a smirk, keeping your eyes on him as you dipped your head to plant a soft kiss on his thigh, right by his stitches. 

He winced slightly at the contact, but you could see his cock throb against the fabric covering it.  Your smirk only widened, “But I gotta admit I’m pretty impressed so far. Didn’t even have to slip a blue pill in your oatmeal.”

He gripped your jaw, clicking his tongue in disappointment. “I think you need more proof, actually. Allow me.”

With his free hand, he roughly tugged down his briefs and his cock finally sprang free — so thick and long and just fucking perfect — hitting his lower abdomen. The head of it glistened with precum, which he spread with his thumb. You shifted in your seat, biting your lip as saliva flooded your mouth.

“Open,” he ordered.

You immediately complied, wondering when the fuck you’d gotten so obedient. He gripped the base of it and fed it into your mouth slowly. You wrapped your lips around it, feeling it slide smoothly against your tongue. 

A small groan escaped him, his head tipped back at the first rush of pleasure. You hummed a little in response and he felt the vibration of the sound against his shaft. His hips began to move again, shuttling his length deeper into your mouth, until you could feel the head of it reach your throat.

He let you steady yourself by placing your hands on his legs, his hand returning to the back of your head as it bobbed up and down. Then suddenly, when you’d reached the very base, he kept your head down. Your nose was against his pelvis, your deep, even breaths fanning against the fine hair that curled there. 

Your nails dug into the flesh of his legs as you staved off your gag reflex as best as you could. Still, you couldn’t help but squirm a little, already pretty slick between your thighs.

 He cursed under his breath as he let you come up for air, an obscene string of saliva connecting your lips to the tip of his cock.

"If I knew you were such a cock drunk slut, I would have dropped my pants much earlier just to shut you up,” he said with a smug grin, looking down at you.

“More bold words from someone who’s only gonna last this round. I’m gonna have to take care of myself after you’re done,” you taunted lightly, making him pull at your hair.

You kept eye contact with him as you stuck your tongue out and traced it over a large vein on the underside of his shaft. You left a trail of wet, sloppy kisses as you made your way back to the tip, and he lightly slapped it against your tongue a couple of times before pushing your head back down on it. His balls tightened momentarily as he sucked in a sharp breath through his teeth, and you knew he was enjoying himself much more than he let on.

"Well, if it's gonna be only one, might as well make good use of it, don't you think?" He said, pulling you off of him and making you stand up.

His lips were on yours in the next moment, just as desperate and hungry as the first kiss. He kicked his pants off the rest of the way and yanked your sweater off along with your thermal undershirt. He reached for your pants, but you slapped his hand away, extricating yourself from his lips to undo them yourself.

As soon as they were off, he turned you around and bent you over the back of the couch. There was a wet spot in your underwear that made him smirk, but he also couldn’t deny the way his cock throbbed at the sight.

“This is in the way…” he grunted, tugging at your bra strap.

Before you even registered what was happening, he brought the knife back out and sawed the bra off of you. You let out a gasp that was both surprised and indignant as he proceeded to rip your panties off with his bare hands, tossing the scraps of fabric aside.

“Hey! Those are the only ones I have here!” You huffed, glaring at him over your shoulder. “Unless you have a secret stash of women’s underwear, you seriously owe me.”

He nudged your knees apart with his leg. “I don’t think you’re going to need them while you’re here. You were already ruining them yourself, anyway.”

Before you could retort, you felt him push inside of you slowly, grabbing your hips as he let out a low moan. 

“Fuck…” you sighed without thinking, leaning your elbows against the back of the couch. 

“Yeah? Does that feel good?” He cooed condescendingly.

“In your drea–”

His hips snapped into yours harshly, interrupting you. You felt the heat of him against your back as he leaned over you, his breath fanning across the side of your face. 

“If I were you, I’d be careful about lying again. I might just stop and leave you all drenched like this, with your hands tied behind your back so you couldn’t touch yourself.”

He felt you clench around him at that and his smirk turned victorious. He kissed and sucked at your shoulder and neck, making sure to leave plenty of marks. His thrusts were hard and deep at first, hips barely pulling back as his weight pinned you down.

You let out a sound that was a strange mix between a whimper and a gasp as he bit into the tender flesh of your shoulder, hard enough to leave teeth marks behind. The jolt of pain mixed with pleasure – not to mention the slight shame that came with the feeling of your arousal dripping down your inner thighs – only fueled the fire that was steadily growing within you. 

Then, a little mindlessly, you pleaded, “Harder. Fuck me harder.”

He straightened immediately, readjusting himself to start pounding into you at a nearly punishing pace. You bit your bottom lip to try and keep quiet, but wanton sounds of pleasure escaped your throat despite your efforts. He was hitting a spot that made your head spin, tugging you backward onto his cock to meet his thrusts.

The lewd sound of flesh slapping together, along with your collective pants and groans, filled the room. He reached forward to grab your throat again, keeping you semi-upright as he continued to take you. In truth, he was focusing hard to stave off his release. He had plenty of stamina for his age, but the way your cunt took him so perfectly, as if molded just for him, was enough to have his balls tightening again. 

But he would never hear the end of it. 

Your legs began to shake a little as the coil in your belly tightened, threatening to snap. “I-I think I’m gonna cum, fuck…”

“Not yet,” he said firmly, immediately stopping his motions. 

You cursed him under your breath, beyond frustrated. You pushed your hips back, intent on fucking yourself on him, but his firm grip stopped you. He landed a firm smack on your ass, making you involuntarily clench around him. He hissed, feeling the strong urge to give in and continue fucking you until you came all over his cock, but he kept his composure. He wanted to keep indulging you for as long as he could, still not fully believing he wasn’t just having a dirty dream.

“Do that again and I’ll rip your fucking head off,” you snarled as he pulled out, grabbing your arm and leading you toward the bed.

“I told you I was going to make it count.”

He tossed you onto your back on the bed, crawling on top of you and pushing your knees up to your shoulders. He positioned himself between your thighs and sank back into your cunt with no further preambles, his strong body covering yours once more.

His hands cradled your head as he began to move again, reaching impossibly deeper than before. You clawed at his biceps as he ground his pelvis against you, making your brain practically short-circuit.

“There we go… See? I knew you could take more,” he said, kissing the corner of your lips. “Are you scared I'll pull out again? You keep sucking me back in.”

Too dazed to form words, your lips chased his so he would kiss you properly. Your tongue trailed over his upper lip enticingly, and he opened his mouth so his tongue could meet yours. This kiss was deeper, less frantic, finally giving yourselves a chance to taste each other properly. 

Soon you were clenching around him again, too distracted by your mounting pleasure to continue kissing him properly. 

“Fuck, don’t stop, Duncan. Please, please, please, just like that,” you begged desperately, moaning as he moved to kiss your jaw. 

“Yeah? You want me to fill you up, too?” He rasped against your skin. “Claim this needy cunt all for myself?”

You nodded eagerly, face contorting with ecstasy as you held onto him for dear life. Your muscles seized up as your climax washed over you, overpowering your senses. His hips stuttered as you cried out, your hot flesh molding into his like the deepest embrace. 

He kissed you again as he felt his own release rippling over him, groaning into your mouth as he shuddered, unable to hold himself back any longer. He thrusted hard a few more times before remaining fully inside of you, and you felt heat flooding your cunt. 

A whimper of slight overstimulation escaped you, but he soothed you with a whispered praise in your ear. You couldn’t help but smile beatifically, almost purring in content as he kept his cum inside of you.

As you both rode out your highs, your kisses turned lazy, almost tender, and even the way he held you felt different. Somehow, in some deep recess of your mind, it seemed right… and that scared you a little.

Still, you tried not to let it get to you then. Not as he leaned his sweaty forehead against yours, still panting, and said, “I think I tore my stitches.”

You chuckled. “You should probably take care of that, then.”

“In a minute…”

He disentangled himself from you, pulling out and sliding his body down between your legs. You tried to draw your thighs together, but he stopped you, planting a kiss on your mound.

He spread your lips with two fingers so he could see his cum trickling out of you, but then he pushed it back in with those same fingers, making your hips jerk slightly.

“T-this was a one time thing, you know,” you breathed, trying to sound firm. 

He barely glanced up at you, seemingly unbothered. “I wouldn’t have it any other way.”

But only an hour or so later, you found yourself riding him on the couch. Then, he took you against the wall, over the kitchen counter, off the edge of the bed, and subsequently on the floor. He seemed intent on making sure you never questioned his endurance ever again.

Even throughout the night, you slept sporadically, pawing at each other whenever you stirred. Not many words were exchanged during this time, but that didn’t mean your mouths weren’t put to good use. As usual, you both wound up with bruises, bite marks, and scratches all over each other, but the intention behind them couldn’t be any more different.

The storm died sometime during the night, but instead of fleeing right away, you let him hold you until dawn broke. There were too many new questions floating about in your head, but you weren’t really sure you wanted the answer to any of them for the time being. Perhaps it was simply best to let what happened remain in the past and simply move on.

As quietly as you could, you got up from the bed, cleaned yourself up, and dressed. You sheathed your weapons, avoiding looking at him as you prepared to leave. When your hand was on the doorknob, his voice stopped you.

“You didn’t kill me again,” he said. “Should I take that as an indication that you like me?”

You looked over at him, frowning. “Absolutely not. I’m serious, this was the last time it’ll ever happen.”

“I’m not sure I can trust your word.”

You huffed, irritated. “Well, you’ll have to. I intend to keep it.”

You yanked the door open, about to stomp outside, but you heard the creak of the bed as he sat up. 

“You know, I’m going to be in Portofino in a few months. I heard it’s beautiful there in the summer, and I figured I could use a vacation.”

“Are you trying to make yourself an easy target?”

“...Maybe.”

“And if I decide not to hunt you down?”

He raised an eyebrow. “If?”

You grimaced. “All I’m saying is don’t get your hopes up. I’m a very busy gal, I don’t have time to play cat and mouse with you.”

“And who’s who in that analogy, hm?”

You shook your head, rolling your eyes. “Goodbye, Duncan. Truce is over, do you hear me?”

“I’ll see you in Portofino. Make sure you bring sunscreen.”

The door slammed shut behind you. 

---——-

Part 2 out now!

[neechees]

Do you have any more context for the whole thing happening with Buddy Sainte Marie rn? I mean as a cree person, does your community have suspicions about her? I’m from way out west, and I’ve not heard anything, and I was wondering if the cbc has a foot to stand on at all

Absolutely not, no suspicions. Ask some Crees around Saskatchewan & there'll be some who can tell you they know her family (both her biological & adopted Cree family) & even some that are related to her, in Alberta too. The only Crees that would be believing Keeler at all are, like my Nîtisân said, the facebook ndns who will claim Johnny Depp & Cher based on nothing but then believe Keeler's baseless claims. The type who have no critical thinking & have nothing better to do with their day.

Keeler's claims are baseless for a number of reasons & shows how fucking ignorant and stupid she is, because her basis for how Buffy is a pretendian is that 1. She was adopted, 2. She couldn't have been a victim of the 60s scoop because she was born in the 1940's (& this is why she was adopted), & 3. Her actual birth certificate isn't recorded. But I'm gunna debunk all those right now without google because

The 60s scoop does not refer to exclusively kidnappings of Native children ONLY in the 1960's, it also goes as far up to the 80s formally (but this literally continued), and goes back years before that too, the government was doing this to Native kids years before the 1960s, but the 1960s is just when a lot of them happened & there was a spike

Buffy went BACK to a different Cree community & was adopted by another Cree family formally & started reconnecting more to her Cree culture again. To Crees, if you're adopted by a Cree, especially if you start taking part in the culture by the will of your parents, you are Cree. Even if she was "White" or any other ethnicity to begin with & she was adopted like this, she would still be Cree by our (& many other tribes') standards.

Afaik its just her birth certificate that isn't documented, but other documentation exists that shows Buffy is Cree. Lots of Cree people don't actually have proper documentation for a lot of things, even today, for a number of different reasons, but it was especially popular back then. I think even my grandfather didn't have a lot of proper documents because he literally couldn't write.

Additionally, Buffy just SHOWS she's Cree. She has a Cree accent, she LOOKS Cree, and she knows Cree things even a dedicated "pretendian" wouldn't know. I've heard her talk about things like Michif folk tales & oral history that even I didn't know existed, I know she speaks Cree, she knows about Cree culture, things like that. Also like I said earlier, she literally knows what reserve she came from originally and who her parents were before she was kidnapped & she's talked about it extensively, so its not like the usual jig of a pretendian randomly claiming Native ancestry with no basis, her claims are easily provable by talking to other Crees who know her family.

But of course, Keeler is the type of person to not recognize these at all, because shes the fuckin Blood Quantum vampire police who only thinks about you as Native if you have some kind of documentation that youre enrolled in a federally recognized U.S tribe, you're not mixed race, and you "look" Native. Everyone else in her mind is "faking" & a "pretendian". Keeler is an ignorant, xenophobic, racist bully who seems to only call women & twospirit people (particularly successful ones) "pretendians" so of COURSE She'd go after Buffy.

Keeler has also literally claimed that documented, enrolled, Native looking ndns are "pretendians", & in one case she claimed that she had "contacted" the (iirc) Cherokee Nation to say that THEY said that this one person she was claiming was a "pretendian" allegedly wasn't enrolled, only for the Cherokee Nation to call her out for lying & that this person WAS actually enrolled in a legitimate Nation. Later they had to keep telling her to fuck off bc she kept using them to lie about legitimately enrolled people.

So no, there's no basis to Keeler's claims bc shes a fucking idiot American who doesn't know shit about Crees or even how Canadian shit works. Any sensible Cree person will tell you Buffy is Cree, & shes our Kohkum.

[schnitzelsemmerl]

So......i like to torture you guys >:) i wanted to write Angst but yea. I was kinda lazy

The St. Cassian Chamber Choir of Uranium City, Saskatchewan had just won a singing competition. Now, we'll ignore the fact they were the only one competing.

The choir conductor Father Marcus had decided to take all the kids to the yearly Fall Fair in Uranium. The fair had existed ever since mines were opened in the small Canadian town.

Father Marcus looked at his students: Ocean O'Connell Rosenberg and Constance Blackwood, inseperable since Pre-K. Noel Gruber, who always assisted him in organizing and decorating venues they would sing at. Ricky Potts, who was unable to speak, but even more so important: he played the accordion alongside his friends. And lastly, Mischa Bachinski. The teenager from the Ukraine, who had - thank the Lord, quickly found friends... well, if you count the choir as friends. Friends isn't the word I'm looking for, though; more like.. aquaintances. That was his choir. Father Marcus was sure he didn't forget anyone.

He couldn't be more proud of his students and the responsible teens, senior graders, they turned into. I'm sure nothing bad will happen.

Constance, who could be best described as a bit of a wallflower, spoke up, "Which attraction should we go to first?" Her voice was filled with enthusiasm. Happiness, and joy. If he could, Father Marcus would freeze this moment and keep it playing somewhere forever. He himself never had children, so the choir was the thing most similar to children. Some of them also had, ahem... questionable home lives, which only added to the fact.

"Oh, why don't we go to the-", Ocean chirped, her long, silky, ginger hair getting blown into all directions, specifically into Noel's face.

Noel looked absolutely done. He gritted his teeth, "I swear to God..." Ricky and Constance had to physically restrain him from choking Ocean, who began screaming bloody murder as she realised what he was trying to do. Though this, thank God, like many things, did not last for long; Mischa requested they should "check out the madwickedawesome beer garden", which was shut down by Ocean.

Constance spoke up again, this time a bit louder. "Why don't we ride the Cyclone over there?" Ocean clapped, "Well, nothing can bond a choir together more than going on a rollercoaster! I read about that stuff in my new book on how to make friends."

"You most certainly need that book," Noel spoke under his breath, so Ocean couldn't hear him. Mischa, on the other hand, joined in.

"She also needs book teaching her how to fuck off."

Constance took her bestfriend's hand, leading her to the Cyclone. The others followed. While Father Marcus did a quick head-count, six people, Ocean bought the tickets.

"Ocean, I'll be waiting for you kids here," their teacher exclaimed as the choir walked upfront to board the Cyclone.

The six were now all strapped in their seats, though the whole choir- minus Constance, for some odd reason- seemed a bit wary of the rollercoaster. The fact it was old, rickety, made strange noises, looked like it was older than Father Marcus and had a drunk carnie as the responsible person for the fair attraction didn't help.

Ocean gulped. She hoped this was going to be over soon. She still had that geography project to do. And...choir stuff! Yes, that. Maybe she should just say she felt sick? Noel always said she looked like a "ill Victorian child", so... but on the other hand, it would break Connie's heart.

Just close your eyes, it'll be over soon.

Ocean shut her eyes. The machine started. Gears began to turn, she could hear it. Her heart was beating like a drum. Tock-tock-tock. A lump formed in her throat. God- no, gosh, she couldn't start panicking. Not here. The Cyclone now began transporting the kids further up. Ocean opened her eyes... just a little bit.. she could hear Connie's gleeful laughs. They were now at the top. Everything looked so small from down here. Ocean looked at her bestfriend. Constance grinned and took Ocean's hand into her own. Ocean managed a soft smile.

Constance laughed excitedly. "We're at the start of the loop-de-loop now, that's my favourite part!" She put her face closer to Ocean's- well, as close as possible. Ocean blushed.

The Cyclone rushed down.

Then up.

Constance was joyfully screaming.

Then she wasn't.

And then, it felt as they were all sailing through space.

Didn't know up from down.

Ocean felt a little strange from all that spinning round.

Then.

The voice.

"Greetings, children. It's time to play."

[kaleidoscopiccc]

@june-doe-2024 day 2 (alternate universe)

Lightening Thief AU!!!

Cyclone character (pjo role they replace: how they do it) - godly parent

Penny (Percy: main character) - hades

Ezra (Sally: mcs human family member who dies) - none

Ricky (Grover: satyr undercover and pennys best friend, second quest member) - pan

Ocean (Annabeth: love interest, third quest member) - athena

Noel (Luke: traitor, pennys first friend at camp) - aphrodite

Mischa - ares

Constance - demeter

Astrid (Clarisse: may or may not attempt to kill penny during capture the flag) - ares

Tammy (Silena) - aphrodite

Savannah (Thalia: almost dies and becomes a tree under Ricky’s protection… rip her) - zeus

Talia - (camp Jupiter camper) - ceres

———

after the drug bust penny and ezra start moving schools a lot because they keep getting in trouble (poor Ms peachery is fighting for her life out here), og pjo shenanigans ensue, ezra has no idea what’s going on but gets dragged along with ricky and penny on the way to chb because they assume he’s a halfblood too, he “dies” at the hands of the minator pissing penny the HELL off and making her kill it, penny goes to the underworld to try to get the lightning bolt back from her dad and save ezra instead of her mom

ricky is still disabled as a satyr and doesn’t just use his crutches as a human diguise

penny has a very brief intense crush on Tammy when they first meet (Tammy just sort of has that effect)

Noel and Mr d are sworn enemies

Savannah, ricky, and penny are different people

On that note ricky names pennys doll Savannah when they go to school together and just says it’s a special name he’s been saving up

maybe her doll plays a part in her powers?? idk

when she’s knocked out after the minator fight she has these weird dreams about a jane doe she can’t quite make out the face of but who’s body looks easily similar to a more grown version of hers… I’m sure there’s nothing weird or foreshadowy about that)

mischa and Talia are in a long distance relationship, neither of their fellow campers in both camps believe the other exists

Tamara sends mischa off to canda for him to go to chb so he can be safe after she dies

oh did I mention chb is now in canda

not in uranium though just Saskatchewan

[atlanticcanada]

Survey shows nearly 20 per cent of Canadians skipping meals to cope with food costs

For months, putting food on the table has become a challenge to many, but a recent survey found some are coping with the cost of eating by sometimes skipping meals.

The survey was conducted by the Canadian Hub for Applied and Social Research out of the University of Saskatchewan.

Nearly 20 per cent of respondents reported skipping meals or reducing meal sizes in order to save money.

At the Glace Bay Food Bank, those numbers didn't come as a surprise as it's roughly on par with the uptick they've experienced.

"Absolutely not. Not with the cost of groceries and the cost of living, it doesn't shock me at all," said Linda MacRae, food bank coordinator. "I would say close to 20 per cent. I really would. I'm surprised we're keeping up, to be honest with you."

Among the 1,001 Canadians polled, 59 per cent said they're coping by decreasing household food waste, 54 per cent reported making meal plans, while 30 per cent said they are eating less healthy food as it's often cheaper.

"Food bank use and unemployment have always trended together," said Food Banks Canada CEO Kirsten Beardsley. "This is the first time we're seeing those trends decouple. We have very low unemployment, and our highest food bank use in Canadian history."

The majority of survey respondents said they are using coupons, or hunting for sales. Nearly 5 per cent admitted to stealing food out of necessity.

"To go from this situation into what will be job loss, a recession, even tougher economic times, I'm actually really worried about what's to come," Beardsley said.

A recent report from Food Banks Canada said visits to food banks increased 15 per cent over the winter, and prices have only gone up since.

"I'm extremely worried what the next few months are going to bring, especially over the winter," MacRae said.

Nearly 80 per cent of respondents supported an increase in minimum wage, however many opposed strategies that saw an increase or creation of taxes.

from CTV News - Atlantic https://ift.tt/1hslaAn

[finishinglinepress]

NEW FROM FINISHING LINE PRESS: Sisters of the Protectress—A Creation Story by Darlene St. Georges and Alexandra Fidyk

On SALE now! Pre-order Price Guarantee:

https://www.finishinglinepress.com/product/sisters-of-the-protectress-creation-story-by-darlene-st-georges-and-alexandra-fidyk/

darlene st. georges is a creation-centred artist|scholar. She is associate professor of art education at the University of Lethbridge, Alberta, Canada. Her theoretical and practice-based research is rooted in emergent and generative knowledge and knowing that honours the inward and creative ways being and knowing––living literacies expressed through aesthetic translations of voice, breath, body, and spirit.

alexandra fidyk, award winning transdisciplinary scholar and teacher, serves as professor in the Faculty of Education, University of Alberta, Canada. Through somatic, relational, poetic and creative-centred processes, her research engages with teachers and youth on issues of place, suffering, wellbeing, and love. Her writing continues to be influenced by the long sky of Saskatchewan.

#poetry #creationstory #poems #readinglist

PRAISE FOR Sisters of the Protectress—A Creation Story by Darlene St. Georges and Alexandra Fidyk

Lavish here. Let wash. We wee humans need images adequate to hold us open into this earth body of ours, and here they are, written out. Spaced. Placed. Hoarse cawed. This very same body as the Crows crow, the plants plant, the air offers. Sun-drenched jaws. Bears themselves dreaming us over ambles downhill. This book brooks words. Images. Dreams. darlene’s. alex’s. mine. yours, readers. Watch out, though. These possessive cases can easily betray us. These words and their readings are co-inhabitants with the full scatters and splays of breaths, of wonders. These seeds up yesterday morning, little heralds. Listen. This book will help you smell the sun in them. Let the spaces last exactly as long as you need. Slow over them. Let them be exacting. Me. My grandson in arms. Me in his, too. Look! Crow. Bear. Seed-springings. Thank you for this gathering up. I gather up, go plant.

–David Jardine, Professor Emeritus in Retiracy, currently undergoing an Early Childhood Education

Let yourself be suspended and traverse the land and sky through this creation story, Sisters of the Proctress, marinated in the poetic and primordial. St. Georges and Fidyk invite us into dwelling in worlds between the interior, imaginal, primal, and sacred where the reader inhabits the terrain where spirit and body thrive. Here, one can dream themselves alive as they say, and ruminate in layers of wisdom and insight where the ancestors’ live and hope resides. This poetic book is a journey in and of itself where an aesthetic sensibility touches the heart and reminds one that place is imbedded within mystery and keeps calling us home to awe. Beautifully and sensitively written and designed, they call forth what the bodysoul yearns for.

–Celeste Snowber, PhD. Professor/Poet/Performer, author of Embodied inquiry: Writing, living and being through the body. Simon Fraser University

In Sisters of the Protectress: A Creation Story, Darlene St. Georges and Alexandra Fidyk weave together stories of Bear Woman and Crow Mother to, as they say, “cross the celestial veil to ignite the imaginative and mythological realms.” In Crow’s return and Bear’s reawakening, imaginaries appear and disappear as exquisite voices. Evocative drawings alongside the spare poetic text create mirrored, shadowed lives—giving testimony and bearing witness. “Not everything that goes / leaves a trail” St. Georges and Fidyk write, concluding “we need more Storytellers.” In this gorgeous hybrid format, these lyrical sister-voices give shape to that process.

–Laura Apol, author of A Fine Yellow Dust, winner of the Midwest Book award for poetry

In this visual|poetic creation story, Darlene St. Georges and Alexandra Fidyk pay homage to Bear Woman and Crow Mother. This “hybridity of fur and feather” aligns with the “imperceptible rhythms / that ignite imaginaries.” Narrative and lyricism combine gracefully. This evocation deepens our connection with earth and sky, waking and dreaming, inner and outer worlds. And we emerge humbled and humane. “Calling the Ancestors—” and at once the “Ancestors are calling—” Images of Crow and Bear spaciously move with words and phrases to create a powerful sense of renewal. “Unearthing tongues between worlds,” Sisters of Protectress draws on creation-centred and Jungian insights.

Open this book to be pulled into a story from the natural and archetypal worlds which will ignite your spirit.

–Sheila Stewart, author of The Shape of a Throat, University of Toronto Mississauga

Please share/repost #flpauthor #preorder #AwesomeCoverArt #read #poems #literature #poetry

[newluddite]

Another Pretendian.

Buffie Sainte-Marie is not a first nations or even just mixed race person anymore. She has no ties to Canada having for years claimed to be from somewhere in Saskatchewan. They found her birth certificate in Massachusetts. She has sisters and brothers who for years got threatening letters form lawyers to keep quiet. Nice person eh?

She is of Italian ancestry on both sides.

She got her start as a folk singer in New York City during the early hippie days. It suited her brand to claim to be first a Mikmaq Indian from eastern Canada, then an Algonquin from central Canada, finally a Cree from Western Canada. Back in the post war era there were many first nations children "freed from poverty" by forcibly adopting them into white families. True dat, but since there was so much smoke and confusion almost impossible to trace.

And living in New England, Canada is a distant place of mystery. It is where the snow storms come from.

Eventually somebody mentioned on a tour or something that she may have come from Piapot Saskatchewan as a girl was taken from there years ago. She visited and was formally adopted by a Piapot Cree family. That part is true and her only legitimate claim. My Mother was from Piapot Saskatchewan, but of Scottish and Irish ancestry by way of Nova Scotia. My mom had a better claim than ol' Buffy there as at least she was from the right area.

I actually wonder how being born in the USA with an American Passport she managed to get so many honors in Canada as if she were a citizen.

Part of me can sympathize it may have been an almost innocent claim at first, like saying you are descended from royalty or something as a stage name or persona. But as she grew more prominent the story got more important. It eventually defined her. She is not that great a singer or a songwriter. But telling the story of "her people" got her an audience.

I wondered with all the mixing and the centuries if I had a bit of first nations blood in me from the Maritime Provinces. Apparently it only takes a distant great-great-grandparent to get legitimized. But 23 and me shows no I don't. I am as white and European as anyone could be going back a few thousand years. Back then there were no races or countries for that matter. So maybe people who want to make such claims should spit in a tube and see what they get.

It would bring some clarity to the issue.

Another one bites the dust.

[likeadevils]

2009 Lover Diaries Transcripts

Mar 17, 2009

Hi. It’s me, the girl who always forgets to write in her journal. Oh yea. Her. I just got back from Australia. It was there for 2 weeks and it was amazing. Gorgeous there. So… what else has happened since I wrote… I was on the cover of Rolling Stone. My tour has sold out every venue including Madison Square Garden (in 1 minute) and Staples Center (in 2). I somehow feel like it’s my destiny to roll my eyes at happy couples and resent Valentine’s Day. I also feel like I’m the girl before “the one.” I’m not he “the one.” I’m the girl you think is the one for you, and when it doesn’t work out with me, you meet the next girl and realize she IS the one. The one you’re gonna stay with. I might get married. But I think it’s ultimately my fate to light candles and pine away and roll my eyes at happy couples and resent Valentine’s Day. Taylor

Jul 11, 2009

I just got back from a trip to Canada that was absolutely refreshing and good for the soul. I never really knew what a good thing having no cell or internet could be. But it was a great thing. I did things a little differently up there, and I actually liked it. I started reading self-help books. It’s really uplifting knowing that you can change your life today, tomorrow … just by doing a few things you never thought of. Or doing things differently than you’ve done them before. New things I adopted from a self help book: Get up early. Keep your cool. Don’t tee off on people you love. Laugh more. You can control your moods. Create a love account and make deposits, in other words, show people that you love them. Another new hobby of mine is ….. antique stores. And not just neat, organized antique stores. I really like the ones where there’s so much crap to dig through, you can find absolute treasures for nothing. I went to 2 antique stores in Saskatchewan, and one today in Winnipeg. I bought all these old glass mason jars. I’m gonna use them for candle holders. I bought old scales and watch faces and chairs and old trunks and a bird cage and 2 lamps. This weekend, I gave everyone in the band raises. That was before the first show we played. Calgary. Then, before the show we played tonight, I called the whole crew in for a meeting, and bonused everybody. 72 people. Taylor [name tag "Taylor Swift - Fearless 2009 Tour. Taylor. Singer"} My tour name tag.

Jul 12, 2009

Today was a wonderful day. And not because of some massive career accomplishment or award show. It wasn’t about world domination or another number 1 song. Today was just … wonderful. Today was simple. And perfect. Because today was just me and my mom, driving around, looking at antiques in little antique shops, talking about what chandelier should go in the foyer and if this cabinet would look right in the guest room. We stopped for ice cream cones. It started raining hard while we were shopping, so we had to run back to the car, getting soaking and screaming. We met up with Dad and Austin for dinner at Kabuto. But the best part of the day was just driving around with my mom. Correction: riding around with my mom with a bunch on antiques clanking together in the trunk. I just keep thinking, when I’m 90 years old, reliving the good old days, I doubt I’ll look back on the number one parties as fondly and as frequently as I’ll look back on today. Wearing red lipstick for no reason, mom in her black t-shirt and wet hair, driving around talking about which chandelier should go in the foyer. Taylor

Sep 18, 2009

Ahh… the things that can change in a week… Let’s just say, if you had told me that Kanye West would have been the number one focus of my week, the media, and my part in the VMA’s, I would’ve looked at you cross-eyed. If you had told me that I would win the ward I was nominated for, I wouldn’t have believed you. And if you had told me that one of the biggest stars in music was going to jump up onstage and announce that he thought I shouldn’t have won on live television, I would’ve said “That stuff doesn’t really happen in real life.” Well… apparently… it does.

(2003 • 2004 • 2005 • 2006 • 2007 & 2008 • 2009 • 2010 • 2011 • 2012 • 2013 • 2014 • 2015 • 2016 & 2017)

[catpcgames]

I just wanted to say this while I'm thinking about it that as a Canadian trans person, I'm tired of seeing americans act like everything is okay up here, while yes y'all have it worse down there, I hate it when I see people talk about how it's better here.

In New Brunswick we had the Policy 713 changes that basically snowballed everything here in Canada. Which made it so that students in school can't be called by their preferred name and pronouns in school without parental consent if they're under 16.

Then Saskatchewan followed suit doing basically the same thing in the form of Bill 137.

Then most recently in Alberta we had Premier Danielle Smith saying she was going to make it so that:

Trans students under 16 need parental consent in order to go by their preferred name and pronouns

Students who are 16 or 17 will still be outed to their parents if they want to go by their preferred name and pronouns

Ban gender affirming surgery for anyone under 18 (which was for the record, already the case just not written into law)

Ban HRT for anyone under 16 (but specifically only if the person is trans)

Require parental consent for their children to be taught about LGBTQ+ topics in school

Lastly, implement restrictions on trans women participating in women's sports (saying it was for "safety reasons")

Most of the above was done under the guise of "parental rights" when parents don't have rights in regards to their children, they have a responsibility to take care of their children.

Parents are given power over their children because then (at least in theory) they can use that power to help the child learn and grow and keep the child safe, not abuse that power to control the child.

Circling back to what I said at the beginning, I'm sick of people acting like everything is fine up here, or that the US is the only country with threats to trans rights at the moment, given how important the US is in global politics, other countries are bound to copy them, and while yes things are very bad there, they aren't the only country with issues.

[phantomdecibel]

hey if u ever like,, have to get a cheque reissued or whatever and send it back to whoever u got it from,,, please be polite,,,, the people you think you’re yelling at are never gonna fucking see ur lil temper tantrum okay the ppl who are actually reading probably weren’t even involved in sending you the first cheque or even sending them out in general man,,,,,,, it’s usually just temp staff and students looking over this stuff,,,, we didn’t print or mail your cheque,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,, do you realize how many cheques we’re looking over right now??? I’m on file 5258 and there are plenty more, you cashed your cheque FOUR MONTHS after you came over here to complain. I do Not want to hear it, let me focus on the people who actually haven’t received this shit,,, over half the time whatever issue means you didn’t get your cheque? it’s because whatever fucking. handwritten note you sent us was messy as fuck and literally no one could decipher it properly,, please don’t write in cursive I am begging you do you know how hard it is to rwad that,,,,, do you know how tired I am,,,,,,,,, you’re not the only person venting in the comment section okay whatever ur complaint is I can’t. do anything about it, I can’t fucking fix the economy I can’t get you a job I can’t do anything about your divorce I don’t know where your fucking husband ran off to I don’t know where your cheque is,,, tge people you’re yelling at for being incompetent and failing at their jobs aren’t the same people who sent you ur papers in the first place,,, did you even update your property information in the first pkace?? any information I could possibly pull up for you comes from there I can’t read your mind no one here is a mind reader,,, if u don’t tell us you’ve moved we can’t send ur cheque to you,,,,,,,, wait a fucking second you live in Saskatchewan????? you dont?? qualify for this????? what are you even talking about,,,,,,, listen you can tell me you’re eligible for this all you want but I am not the person who looks into that. please be polite, I get ur pissed off u didn’t get ur money but like,,, there are so so so many reasons why that might be like yeah sure it might be our fault but maybe it got lost in the mail or – have you talked to your spouse? says here they’ve cashed it. please stop yelling at me, whatever it is you’re suggesting would not, in fact, make anything more efficient. I don’t need to know your life story man I’m just tryna make enough to pay for groceries and school okay, I had nothing to do w sending out your cheque I don’t know where it is and you don’t know anything about how any of this works so shove it. Up! your fucking ass

On the other hand if you’ve got a fun email those are great keep up the good work ‘head-full-of-stars’

[neechees]

you don’t have to answer this if you don’t want to but do you have any tips for learning Cree? also, have you ever run into the problem of learning Cree but your community speaking a different dialect of Cree then what you learned?

Just to get this out of the way so I dont have annoying moniyaws in my notes, Linguists go away & DNI.

You probably know that there's sub dialects even within sub dialects, & might change depending on location or community. My dad's Métis/Cree side of the family speaks Northern Cree (a subdialect of Plains Cree y dialect), vs. My mom's Cree side uses one that's more Southern, so conversations on either side of my family could be different, but I grew up more with my mom's Cree. One of the things I ran into a bit is that the previous dictionary I had used was a more Saskatchewan based dialect of plains Cree, but I'm from Alberta. So sometimes when I would try to use a Cree word, people at home wouldn't always understand me. But since starting school for it we've been using a dictionary that fits our local area. However, we have a saying about Cree, & that's "for every word in Cree, there are 4 different ways to say it". It shouldn't be TOO big of a problem, so don't beat yourself over it, dialectic differences happen even between fluent speakers. Just know that it's something you might run into. Try find dictionaries that use the same dialect as you & are close to your area.

I think this is one of the most important things, but focus on learning the Cree letters & their proper pronunciations first, this'll help you for getting words right. If you know the proper sound each individual letter makes, you'll know how to sound out things a little better in Cree, even if you don't know right off the bat. Also know that the macrons (the little "hats" or symbols you see over the vowels) changes the sound, & can change the entire meaning of the word, so pronounciation is important. For example, Sakahikan means "nail" or "spike". Sâkahikan means "lake". That "â" made all the difference, & they are pronounced a little differently, even if they are spelled virtually the same except for that a with the little hat. Remember the little hats.

Somewhat connected to the above, but if you want to learn syllabics thats cool too, but I don't think it's super necessary. But if you do choose to, learn them while you're studying the sounds.

If you look in the dictionary, you might see words labeled by letters like "VAI" or "VTA-2" or "VTI". Those are verb types, & the label is telling you what kind of verb it is. This is important for when you're going to conjugate that verb into a sentence, and tells you the context of that verb. There are a few verb types in Cree: the V stands for "Verb", a T means "transitive", I means "intransitive" and/or "inanimate", & the A stands for "animate". Usually the sequence goes (Verb)(whether it is transitive or not)(whether it's animate or inanimate). Don't fret over this too much & don't be daunted, you're just a beginner, but if you see those abbreviations, that's what they are. For now if you're just working on expanding your vocabulary a little more and not so much on the grammar, spelling rules, or conjugation, you can focus on that a little later. But I'll put a further explanation under the cut if you wanna know more on how it works & what it means.

Listen to Cree. Find Cree songs, shows, movies, books, anything you can get your hands on. Get Cree dictionaries & grammar books. Also try to find other people who speak Cree, fluent and not fluent, to practice with. You need to hear other people speak in order to get better. I'm gunna make a Cree spotify Playlist for this, so stay tuned.

And keep trying! You got this. More info under the readmore for the verb types. Everything I've given as advice is what I would've told my younger self or that I wish I knew before, so I hope this helps.

So to go back to the verb types, for example Vii means "inanimate intransitive" , and an example would be general observations about the weather, like yôtin ("it is windy"). There is nothing animate involved, and there is no second actor to the verb, it's just a fact. A VTI (transitive inanimate) example would be nipēhtēn, "I hear it": it's transitive because of the "it" (a second actor", there is something else involved), and it's also inanimate because the "it" would indicate it is something inanimate or not alive/living (as far as the hearer knows). If instead it was "I hear you" (aka, something living, thus making it animate & a VTA, a transitive animate verb), it would then become kipêhtâtin. A last example is VAI, animate intransitive, would be something like nimīcison ("I eat"). It's animate because the "I", the speaker, is a person who is alive saying it, but it's intransitive because there is nothing else involved, it's just the speaker generally declaring "I eat" (but not specifying anything that they are eating). Here is a really helpful, simple video about what transitive and intransitive verbs are, it helped me understand more about how they work. A lot of Cree dictionaries might also have an index at the beginning describing these verbs as well that you can look through, and Cree grammar books will go more in depth with them & how to use them when you're ready.

[raspberrysmoon]

oh my god @rtcshipweeks today was rough im so sorry this is so late its almost 11 here sobs - day six: favorite jane ship!! sugardolls :D

this ones a bit longer- fic below :)

nobody knew what her name was. not even her.

constance felt terrible for her. their beds were next to each other, so she tried to include the girl in things, but she couldn't say she felt comfortable around her yet.

it was killing her.

the girl was now vaguely familiar. wavy brown hair and pretty hazel eyes that constance remembers thinking about when class got boring. she was kind, and pretty funny despite being strangely deadpan most of the time.

she talked about animals a lot, and she seemed to know loads about conservation efforts in saskatchewan.

she liked lemon deserts, but poppy seed muffins were an absolute no-go. anything with crunch was well received, like toffee, but if it had a melt-in-your-mouth texture she absolutely adored it.

constance asked her mom about coating toffee in something that melted, and her mom promised to look into it.

it took months for her to remember even her favorite color, or if she had any allergies. but she never knew her name.

sometimes she had bursts of memory, too. she would meet constances gaze and a medication name, or even a persons name, but no one could connect it back to anyone in town.

together, they discovered that the girl is scared of needles, and that she doesn't like her own blood, but is fascinated by others blood. she has a high pain tolerance, and she has a high tolerance for painkillers.

together, they discovered that shes mildly lactose intolerant, and almonds make her want to puke. constance helped her through as much as she could bear.

she couldn't sleep without someone, usually ocean, next to her, though. the doll was.. too much. most nights ocean was more than happy to push their beds together and have a sleepover, but some nights she just wanted rest.

tonight was one such night.

it was like constance could feel the blank, porcelain stare of the doll, lovingly named jane, even through the curtain.

she repressed a sigh and pushed herself out of bed, grabbing her cane. she walked to the window, and stared at the street below. she could seen nurses starting to leave and switch over to the night shift, and if she looked far enough she could see the mall closing.

she rested her head on the window and let her mind wander. always back to the beautiful hazel eyed girl, of course.

her smile, the excitement that took over when she remembered another fact that she hadn't told yet, the scrunch of her nose when she ate something sour.

"you should be asleep, connie."

she nearly screamed when she registered how close the voice was. she turned, meeting the girls gaze shakily.

"you scared me, sugar." she paused, brow furrowing. "you should be asleep too."

she simply shrugged, walking closer to the window and leaning on the sill. "i was thinking."

constance hummed, settling back into her original spot. "what about?"

"a boy." constance felt her heart squeeze. "i keep dreaming about him, and i can't figure out why. he looks like me."

constance looked down at a passing red chevy. "maybe you have a brother."

the girl shrugged, pressing her shoulder to constance. "maybe i do. i would hope he'd come looking for me, though."

"he could be." she looked over, smiling softly. "its not easy to get to us though, he might not be allowed in."

she hummed. "why are you awake? i thought you had a good sleep schedule."

constance giggled a bit. "better than rickys. i just have trouble sleeping alone, i guess. i feel very disconnected from everyone and it makes me anxious." it wasn't technically a lie.

the girl nodded. "do you want me to stay with you? you need sleep, you're still healing." she glanced down at constances hip briefly, before making eye contact.

constance blinked, and then blushed, ducking her head. "if.. if you want to, that would be nice. i can stay awake for one night, its not a huge deal."

the girl shook her head. "lets go lay down and get you off your hip."

god, constance really had it bad. she followed the other girl, and together they managed to push their beds together without waking anyone else.

they laid in silence, with constance tracing random shapes onto the girls hand. eventually, though, the silence was broken as it always must be.

the girl shot up and constance yelped as she was dislodged from her previous position.

she looked back at constance, with wide eyes and a wider smile.

"penny."

constance cocked her head. "penny?"

"my name. my name is penny."

constance didn't think she could possibly have fallen any harder, but she could barely breathe.

the beautiful girl, with big hazel eyes and soft brown hair, and a voice to rival an angels. the girl with the blinding smile and a gorgeous laugh, in front of her joy radiating off of her, finally finding a piece of herself.

constance grinned, holding out a hand to the girl. to penny.

"its nice to meet you, penny."

[cutecumber-water]

☘Welcome to my Blog!☘

Hey friends! My name is Meghan (or Meggles), I go by They/She pronouns and am currently in Saskatchewan, Canada! I’m a 24-year-old first-year university student taking Archeology/Anthropology with a Minor in French! I am in love with Art/Art History and everything nerdy! I am also an artist online using Procreate and the paint tool sai as well as using gouache and clay. I'm an ENFP Hufflepuff with mental health and chronic pain issues.

I’m extremely passionate about Education, Mental health/Chronic illness awareness, LGBTQ2S+ issues, as well as Indigenous issues here in Canada, as I am a part of these groups and believe in equality and justice for all. 

{ Photo description: A photo of Me! I can be seen smiling wearing blue pants and a black shirt in between a bunch of hanging chains from an art exhibit /end description}

☘What will I see?☘

A whole plethora of things! Mental health stuff, Education things, art/art history, fanart, wiccan things, whatever I like! There will be trigger warnings in the tags if need be.  So please keep that in mind when scrolling through my page.

☘Is your ask box/inbox open?☘

Yes! It’s always open for people to come in and chat with me! Please note that because I am a student it may take some time for me to reply and see your message but I always appreciate it <3

Thanks for taking a gander at my page!

[cmlbcommish]

CMLB: Aureliano Mason, Saskatchewan Skates, 5

"You guys were a hlockey team??" Riley says in disbelief.

It's been a few weeks since the first game of the season, and as time goes by, Riley and Haruta, the two players recruited for the active roster who weren't part of the original team, are just learning about the history of the Skates.

"Yep!" Eli smiles. "We loved playing team splorts, so after we couldn't play hlockey anymore, Nagomi made us this blaseball team!"

Haruta claps in applause, and Eli strikes a pose, but Riley frowns. "But, why couldn't you play hlockey anymore?"

Eli pauses thoughtfully, "Honestly? That's more of Aureliano’s story to tell than mine. It was after he got injured the second time so you should probably ask him.”

Riley doesn't miss the way Haruta mouths 'The second time?', but he ignores that in favour of thanking Eli and dragging Haruta over to Aureliano.

"Aurel!" Haruta waves, and Aurel waves at them with his detached prosthetic arm that he's fiddling with.

"Hey guys! How's it going?"

Aureliano Mason is always covered in some sort of mechanical oil and is constantly tinkering with stuff, though they keep trying to stop him from doing so.

The most noticeable fact about him is the two wings sticking out of his back. They're about the proper size to allow him full flight, though this means it's hard for him to fit through doorways and in enclosed spaces. 

Doesn't stop him from making attempts to fit in places he shouldn't be, however.

In the short time Riley has known him, he has gotten stuck 5 times in different places he shouldn't have even tried to fit in, having to be pulled out by an exasperated Eli and a worried Wyatt every time.

“Eli said you probably know more about why the Skates couldn’t play hlockey anymore, we’re curious.” Haruta explains. 

Aurel tilts his head curiously. "Well, I guess I could tell you a little story about that, if you want?"

They both nod, sitting down beside him on the bench.

"Hmm… Where to start… I guess it was the second time I got put in the hospital for hlockey related injuries…"

<0>

After the accident, the first person to visit Aureliano in the hospital is Nagomi, the captain of the Skates hlockey team.

He isn't sure on what he expects her to say, but "Was it worth it?" as Nagomi pulls up a chair to his bedside is definitely not anywhere close.

He zones out a bit, he is on a LOT of painkillers, as Nagomi stares expectantly. Eventually she snaps her fingers in his face to get his attention.

"Losing your other arm and both of your legs. Was it worth it." She says, and he feels more than hears the bite in her tone. 

He closes his eyes. "I don't know." He whispers, his head lolling to the side. Nagomi reaches over and brushes his bangs off to the side as he opens his eyes to gaze tiredly at her. 

"You didn't struggle when you lost the first arm nearly as much as you're going to struggle now." She mutters at him, gently fiddling with the bandages that cross his forehead from another injury sustained in the fight.

"Better me than Wyatt." He fires back, it's a weak response and they both know that. Wyatt Morse, despite his sensory issues causing him to cover his eyes a majority of the time, has never got into a life threatening hlockey fight and lost limbs before. Aurel has done it twice now and now has no more limbs to lose except his wings, which escaped both fights unscathed, somehow.  

Nagomi rolls her eyes regardless. "All you're doing is causing him more stress." This does snap Aurel's attention a bit, and he bites his lip. This was the realization in the aftermath after his first fight too, when Wyatt came into his hospital room nearly inconsolable, and spent so much of his time at the hospital in the coming months that King and Nagomi had to stage an intervention for his own well being.

"I'm going to be in here for a lot longer." Aurel sighs, and Nagomi nods. "Fuck."

Nagomi snorts at that. "Fuck is right."

Aurel sighs again and rolls his head back to a neutral position. He realizes through the haze of painkillers that the hospital staff left his prosthetic on his left arm, the one he lost in the first fight. He holds it up to his vision, flexing his fingers and listening to the sound of the metal joints clicking and whirring.

He does this for a while. Evidently Nagomi realizes how bad his focus is right now, because she doesn't comment on the flexing and unflexing, just tilts her head and waits to see if he will say anything.

"Gomi" Aurel whispers, “I really fucked it up this time, huh?”

She sighs. What do you even say in this situation? There's no going back after limb amputation if you have regular human genetics, albeit with a birdlike twist, like Aureliano does.

There's nothing she can say to make it better. Instead, she changes the subject. "The league is kicking you off the team."

"They're… What??" Nothing she's said has captured his attention as fast as this does.

"They have deemed you a hazard to the safety of the players in the league and they're kicking you off the team." Nagomi states. The tone of voice she uses is factual, she doesn't cushion the blow. 

"I never started either of those fights." Aurel whines, "Both of those assholes were using excessive force against Wyatt! What was i sposed to do? Let it slide?" 

"Why wouldn't you stop when the Zamboni got involved?" Nagomi responds patiently. "According to them, your inability to stop is the problem here."

Aurel sighs. He can't deny that, she's right. 

"Part two. I'm pulling the team out of hlockey." 

He's thrown again. "What do you mean by that?" 

"We're a team." She says. "When we became a team I swore to myself that I would protect all of you, and I'm not letting a stupid admin issue tear us apart." 

It's been a while since Aurel has seen her look this smug. "So… What?" 

"I'm making us a blaseball league." 

He blinks. "None of us have played blaseball." 

Nagomi shrugs. "If they're gonna ban us from hlockey, I'm gonna prove to them that they're gonna miss us." The smug grin persists, and Aurel knows Nagomi well enough to know she pretty much has this all planned by now.

But..

"...You know what happened in the ILB though." 

"Fuck that." She scoffs. "If I'm making my own league, I'm making my own rules. No funny business, no weird weather, nothing." She crosses her arms, leaning back in the hospital chair.

"It feels like a really dramatic move to make a whole league in a different splort just because we can't play hlockey anymore." Aurel states, looking over at Nagomi curiously, "How are you even going to find teams?"

Nagomi hums, "The market is open for a semi-pro Canadian league. I figure if I advertise well enough, we'll have people lining up to form teams."

"And what does Parker think about this?" Aurel says flatly, "You know his history with the ILB." 

"We know his supposed history with the ILB." Nagomi corrects, "Nothing we know about his involvement in anything has come from the man himself. I'm not going to force him to stick around if it hurts him, but this is literally my last option to keep us together." 

Aurel sighs, and Nagomi gently grabs his hand. "I know its not ideal, but I wanted us to play splort as a team and well, maybe I'm too stubborn to let it go but…" She looks away, gazing out the window.

"I get it." Aurel whispers, "I don't want to let you guys go either. You're all like a family to me, y'know?"

"Yeah." Nagomi squeezes his hand before letting go. "Now that the heavy stuff is out of the way, I'm gonna go tell the nurse and everyone else that you're awake."

Aurel chuckles as she leaves the room. Blaseball huh?

<0>

"And I mean, that's pretty much it." Aurel shrugs, finally reattaching his other arm. "Nagomi said 'I'm using my family's money to make a league.' And we all knew Gomi was stinkin rich but she never acts like it."

Riley nods in understanding. "She did it to keep you all together."

"Yup." Aurel gives a soft smile. "With the way she looks, sometimes it's hard to see she's got a soft side but the ol Commish is a real softie under all that gothic fashion!"

"I'll tell her you said that!" Pipes Eli from across the room, as he slings his snail shell backpack across his back. "We'll see what Gomi says when she hears you've been talking smack about her!"

Aurel gasps, vaulting himself across the room and hanging off Eli's arm. "Eliiiiiiii! don't tell her! She'll noogie me for DAYS! Have mercy!" 

Eli simply lifts his arm, his tall height and strength easily lifting Aurel, who is short and is built light for flight, even with his limbs being mostly metal. 

He walks out of the room, bickering with Aurel the whole time, who continues to cling. He waves to Haruta and Riley as they go.

"Quite a fun little group we've ended up with, huh Haruta?" Riley says, amused.

Haruta giggles back, a little smile on her face. "They're perfect." 

[fleurcareil]

BC fires update

Hi all, here's a quick update on my travel plans; although my storytelling still has me in Saskatchewan ready to cross into Alberta, I'm actually already in Nelson in Southern BC. Been traveling a lot and seen/done amazing things so I'm a little behind! 🙃

As you may be aware, there are currently terrible forest fires across all BC including a few big ones near Kelowna and Kamloops, where I had planned to travel to in the next week. Although I have full belief that the government & wildfire services would keep me safe, it doesn't feel right to continue traveling as if nothing is happening... roads are being closed on short notice and hotels are filling up with people evacuated from their homes, so this is really not my place to be. The smoke has been bad on & off the last few days - there was some blue sky & mountains to be seen yesterday but then today it's really bad with ash covering the car. Not fun camping but honestly the smoke is everywhere including in the restaurant I am now.

All that to say that I'm canceling my plans to travel further west to the Okanagan and Haida Gwaii, which I had been really looking forward to (since about 14 years!), and instead am returning to the Rockies and Alberta where there's also fires 😞 but less.

Not all is bad; I had one of my best experiences in Canada 2 days ago soaking in a natural hot spring next to a glacial river deep in the forest, keep meeting very friendly people everywhere and am already planning my next fun things to do.

I'm sure I'll come back to this region as it's stunning, but in the meantime there's still a lot of Canada on my way back home in the next weeks that I'm looking forward to explore!

Hug, Fleur