#native american reader

[navisakura]

Is anyone else pleasantly surprised at the sheer amount of black, latino and other poc!reader fics that have come out of the ATSV fandom? Like it’s normally so rare to find fanfics with a poc or a dark/brown skinned reader in mind but seeing so many different people integrate their culture and background into their work is genuinely heartwarming

[recreationalfanfics]

Buddha + Loki falling for a Native! Diety s/o

Because as a native American woman who SIMPS for fictional men, it'd be nice to see fanfics of Native readers. Idk all the mythologies of other tribes so I'll try my best to keep it as Pan-Native American as possible! Obviously anyone can read this but just understand to respect the culture and know this is tailored to Native readers!

Buddha:

- The both of you weren't so different in terms of your beliefs and philosophies, in fact, Buddha had admired you and your people's culture from afar and it was mutual on your side as well.

- You were a God for much longer than he was and he swore you were the only one who still retained any love for your people.

- So he wasn't surprised when he saw you sided with the Valkyries, unable to stop himself from smiling everytime he saw the soft and adoring look you'd give the humans as they cheered for their champions.

- Your people called you The Creator, however, you felt as though that title might be a bit to...pretentious to go by when you were around other gods so you simply went by (Y/n), instead.

- But it was a fitting title, in Buddha's eyes. Many times when he allowed you to sit under his tree with him as he napped did he secretly open his eyes and see you sculpt creatures out of clay, breathing life into them and setting them down as you chuckled and petted them.

- You were humble, kind, and ethereal...even by a God's standards in his eyes.

- You'd be surprised with how down bad Buddha is for you tbh, you figured because of his easy going and calm disposition that he simply tolerated your prescence until one day when he offered you one of his snacks.

"For me?" You blinked in surprise, the bobcat you were sculpting now pushed into the back of your mind as you saw the treat being held before you. Buddha smiled and shrugged as he handed the lollipop to you, "I don't see anyone else here other than us."

"Hmm, I always figured you to be stingy with your snacks." You teased slightly but considering how its seen as rude to you and your people to turn down whatever you're offered, you gently set the clay animal in your lap and went to reach for the lollipop until you remembered...ah, yes, clay covered your hands.

Buddha seemed to notice your hesitance and sat up, crossing his legs and unwrapping the lollipop he was meant to give you. You watched carefully before he finally held it up to your lips.

"Let me help with that." He said suavely, a smirk on his lips.

You felt your face heat up at his actions but instead smiled and obligingly opened your mouth and smiled as he pushed the lollipop in, but then, as if nothing happened, he continued to lay down and nap and you continued to sculpt. However, the smiles you both shared were hard to wipe off as you continued to bask in the comfortable silence.

Loki:

- Creator Gods and Loki didn't really mix, but it wasn't hard to see why. Tricksters weren't exactly seen in the best light in most cultures, so a Trickster God didn't have that much better of a reputation. It also probably didn't help how often he liked to mess with them.

- But you, you were different. Trickster stories were quite common in your culture and while they were sometimes punished, they were also portrayed as heroes too sometimes.

- He suspected that you yourself, the esteemed Creator who made creatures from clay, seemed to enjoy tricksters. Unlike the other hoity-toity gods and goddesses who'd shoo or chase him away, you'd smile as you sensed his prescence and would make casual conversation.

- Many other dieties have called Loki many names, mostly behind his back since few would be bold enough to say them to his face, but you called him the names of many renowned trickster characters from your story. From Coyote, to Fox, to Rabbit.

- Whenever he asked what made you call him "Little Fox" one day to "Tricksy Coyote" the next and so on, you simply responded with a shrug and cheeky grin: "Is it really that hard to figure out? Some days, you remind me of a sneaky little fox but other days, you seem to have the appetite of a coyote looking to cause trouble."

- You understood the importance of balance. Yes dieties like you were important but so were God's like Loki, so you treated him with respect like you would any other God and while that respect was a little one sided for a while, it was clear he started to slowly hold you in high regard.

- Did this stop him from messing with you? No, it absolutely did not, and you weren't foolish enough to believe that you were an exception and that didn't upset you, not in the slightest. After all, he kept things interesting.

- It was a shame that you sided with humanity, although he can't say that he was surprised, you held your people in high regard. He'd be lying if he said that he didn't cheer you on during your battles instead of the side he was supposed to be on.

He knew you would win, there would have been no doubt about it. Perhaps the God against you had underestimated your power, maybe that's what made the fight more entertaining, the way you lowered his gaurd by making yourself seem weaker than you actually were...but perhaps you should leave the trickery to him, dear (Y/n), since you may have gotten a bit too cocky and sustained not a fatal injury, but you still had to see a healer.

You walked down the hallways to the healing wing, holding your side and scolding yourself for getting too prideful too early. Perhaps you should revisit the many stories your people made of warriors and creatures and their consequences of becoming too confident too quick. But, at least you managed to rack in another point for humanity. As the healer was treating you, you tilted your head and smiled softly at them.

"I had no idea you were such a skilled healer, rabbit." You remarked with a warm smile. The healer looked at you in shock but soon transformed into the mischievous green haired God, "Rabbit? That's a new one."

You shrugged and tilted your head: "To what do I owe the pleasure, Loki? I'd assume you'd be throwing a temper tantrum with Zeus and the others."

"But how could I be angry when you were the one I was rooting for?" He asked, giving you a close eyed grin. You raised an eyebrow and opened your mouth, only to be cut off when he held an eagle feather in front of your face.

"This fell off during your hobbling down here too, by the way." He informed. Your eyes widened in worry but he only chuckled at your sudden distress, "Don't worry, I grabbed it before it touched the ground. Honestly, you should be more careful in future battles, I'd hate to see the only God who knows how to have fun get hurt."

Ah, so he was following me,You thought to yourself, your amused smile returning.

"May I?" He asked, breaking you out of your thoughts.

You nodded and moved your face closer to him, one hand maneuvered gently under your chin to hold your face still and his other intertwining the eagle feather back into your hair. When he was done, he brought his hand back but still kept the one under your chin where it was.

You looked into his violet eyes with half lidded ones.

Hmm, you were wrong. You assumed he was a rabbit, just in a silly little mood ready to play his typical tricks. But you saw the hunger of a coyote in his eyes instead...but not for mischief or chaos for any of the sort.

It looked like he was hungry for you.

[lovelyyandereaddictionpoint]

Idk y I imagine that Ceil distant relative have this accent in the more cowboy states, like their mama is a mix race between Hispanic and Native while the father is the Phantomhive with proper talk ( before hubby death )

Kinda give a feel that the mother delt with the supernatural because of growing up with different types of superstition as Ceil watching her braiding her toddler son longish hair and placing the colorful beads back on

It’d be even worse because you may have not been able to get the most information because of general bias

So legally retaliating isn't your original go to

And if you do get past that your Native American heritage has their own name for creatures like Sebastian

“A Bakwa?! Or maybe a skin-walker?! No human could do something like this so what is he?!” 

Or if you're not confused and are aware that he’s not human you have your own remedies to deal with him

But so far from home those herbs and tools you need are nowhere to be found so all you can do is work with what you have 

“This smell? Mistress (Y/n) why have you spread this all across the floor?”

“You know why, creature. And I will do much worse if you come near my son.”

While so far away from home you do your best to keep your customs alive

Doing your son’s hair in specific braids and beads and if it was prevalent in your life the face markings as well

You don’t hide who you know them to be constantly warning your child while secretly training him to fight

Your will is strong and you have no intentions of living under the thumb of your sorrowly mistaken cousin

No matter how obsessed he is with keeping you ‘safe’

[xblackreader]

✨Cute lil something of Attuma x Okoye to feed y’all ❤️⚔️💙✨

[recreationalfanfics]

First Heartbreak

A Rensuke Kunigami x Fem! Native! Reader drabble, not really a full on detailed fic. Based off of this post and an angst of Kuni and the reader. Might make a yandere vers. follow up or something. Non Natives can interact, just be respectful of the culture!

Your jaw is tight as you string three more of the same colored beads into the fabric, the thread tightening and securing it into your piece. It feels too quiet for you and you hate it. You hate not hearing the sound of a soccer ball being kicked, the little grunts of him giving it his all and pushing himself to be better, you hate when you pierce your finger with your needle because you miss him kissing it better, but you just mostly hate the fact you miss him at all.

You don't realize you're crying until you feel a tear fall on your thumb and you sigh. You loved this park but you have to get up now, because memories of you and him still lingered there. Moving to Japan in middle school was hard for you, the way everyone stared at your hair. The way you heard them whisper about your jewlery and earrings. The way they made fun of your dialect when you spoke, mocking your accent because they hadn't heard it from any other tourist from other countries. You were alienated for a while until you met Kunigami.

He asked you about your jewelry first. You tried your best to explain to him about the significance it had to your culture, how you used it as a creative outlet and how you felt more in touch with your people with it. Then he asked another question and then another, not trying to be annoying but out of sheer curiosity and intruige. It was the beginning of your beautiful relationship and now you were beginning to experience your first heartbreak.

"Fuck does it even matter now?" You think, your anger consuming your sadness, "Bet he's gotten over it already."

He wasn't the same now. He wasn't the kind and loving Kunigami you knew before, the person who came back from Wildcard was a completely different person. You wished so hard that you could be numb to him, care about him a little less and focus on anything else but you couldn't. Being with Kunigami had been such a dream but it was time to wake up now. You wiped your tears away and tried to keep a straight face. One that had no tears and would get past your family without any prying or teasing, one that you could take off behind the safety of your door and hide under a blanket for a while.

Kunigami laid down on his side, the pillow on his head and the necklace you made for him in his hand. It reminded him of the historical beaded jewelry he'd seen in many displays, yet it was still so different. You had beaded a soccer ball emblem on it, which you apologized since you knew it was basic but he had disagreed. He had never seen anything like it before, no one had ever even made him anything like it before. It was meant for him but it was just so...so you. He still loved the texture, his thumb caressing the beads gently as he imagined what it must've been like for you to get them all arranged into the picture you wanted it. The exposed synthetic buckskin comforted him and broke his heart at the same time. The beading details you had done one the lace that went around his neck was orange, like his hair, combined with colors patterns from your tribe and clan. He put it under his pillow as he felt his eyes get tired...or maybe it was because the tears starting at the corners of his eyes began to bother him a little.

He remembers when things went downhill.

When he became colder to you, he hadn't meant too but you were just such a distraction. After his failure in the Blue Lock and being given a second chance, he couldn't afford another distraction, but he also didn't want to let you go. He didn't want to live with that regret...maybe that's why he acted like that, so you'd push him away instead and he wouldn't feel so bad. He was wrong. It only made him feel worse.

At least he still had a piece of you. Slipping his hand under his pillow, he closes his eyes and lets his thoughts go. He remembers your hand running through his hair and the way you sang to him, your voice moving and shifting in a melodic yet soothing way as you sang vocables. Sometimes you'd sing round songs from pow-wows your people had, other times you'd just sing what you wanted too until you messed up, laughing at yourself when your voice cracked awkwardly and him laughing with you. He'll miss those moments but they'll be back soon.

He promises.

When he becomes the World's Greatest Striker, the first thing he'll do is make it up to you. Try to make you see that he had to act the way he did to accomplish his dream and how he'd be better, not just reverting back to being your old Kunigami but someone better; someone not so niave and easily shaken. He'd be stronger and he'd be better.

And you'd take him back.

Right?

[gaysindistress]

Blue Star & a Coyote in love 

Pairing: shifter!Bucky x Native American!reader 

Summary: Ever the trickster, the coyote shifter named Bucky has fallen hopelessly in love with a woman who will never share his affection. 

Warnings: I didn't mean for this to get dark but here we are. violence, death, bucky being Joe Goldberg in the worst way, blood.

Word count: 2.7k

A/n: ahh this is so different from anything else I've posted! I hope that everyone loves it and let me know if anyone wants more of Blue Str and Coyote Bucky.

It's important to note that this is a dark retelling/twist of Native myths about Coyote and that means the reader is Native as are most other characters aside from Bucky. He isn't Native in the MCU and I will not write him as if he were, however, he does take on Coyote the trickster's persona. Coyote is known to go to extreme lengths to get what he wants so to me, it makes sense for him to appear as a white man (aka Bucky) when he wishes.

permanent tag list: @vonalyn @hidden-treasures21 @cakesandtom

gaysindsitress masterlist

disclaimer: credits to original creator/poster of image/gif. found on Google/Pinterest.

Night after night, day after day, dance after dance, the man others called Coyote yearned for me. When the deep red skies and yellow sun gave way to the brilliant blue night sky, he would wait for my sisters and I to emerge. In a clearing, he would lay on his back to admire the way we danced and laughed throughout the night. Never did he try to reach for us or call to us although I knew he wanted to. 

I could feel it in the heavy stare that stayed on my back each night. I could see it in the way his lips would part in amazement when I danced alone. I could see it in the way his pale blue eyes twinkled when I looked at him. 

My sisters would giggle amongst themselves as we danced across the sky. They’d say things like “once again the blue star outshines us all” or “the coyote has fallen for you, blue star” but it was all in good fun. I knew they did not envy the affection he showed me. He was the Coyote after all, the famed trickster that everyone knew of. He had brought fire, among other things, to earth but also brought the first lie. He had been the hero for some and the great villain to others. He was not a man…no… creature to be trusted so his apparent interest in me didn’t mean anything to me. 

All it did was bring me worry and concern when one night he was no longer laying on his back in the clearing. 

I freeze when I don’t see him and it causes one of my sisters to fall into me. 

“Blue star,” she starts, ready to rip into me for halting our dance but she too freezes when she sees what I saw, “he’s gone?”

I look at her over my shoulder, “he can’t be.”

“Can’t be? Have you grown fond of the trickster?”

“No,” I shake my head as strands of hair that escaped from my two braids blow into my face, “no he is there every night. If he is gone, I fear something must have happened.”

My sister, Yellow Star, rolls her eyes, “to him?”

“No,” I say again, growing frustrated that she is not hearing what I am saying, “I…I don’t know but it’s not good.”

Another sister, our eldest, motions for us to carry on and follow the rest towards the mountain we pass each night. We follow but I keep looking towards the empty clearing as we return to our dancing. A deep unease fills my body as the heavy fabric of my dancing robe bounces around me. The fringe at the bottom hits my legs as if to tell me to “keep moving, keep dancing, forget the Coyote” and I obey. 

My sisters are dressed in cream robes with various animals weaved onto their backs. Only I am dressed in a robe made of blues weaved to mimic the night sky however I don’t blend in. Instead I become a shining star for all those to follow when lost at night. My robes and dance give hope to those who cannot find their way. I provide comfort to strangers and family alike as we take our place in the sky. 

Soon I forget the dread that has filled my stomach and again I’m laughing with my sisters, twirling and stomping through the clouds. We reach the mountain before I realize and I smile widely at the sight, my sisters sharing a similar look. We descend towards the mountain peak when our youngest sister, Pink Star, lets out a scream of terror. The eldest few race to her, yanking her from the clutches of an unseen force. She cries as she holds her leg, blood spilling from the torn flesh. They surround her as we all land on the mountain and search for the thing responsible. 

The dread in my stomach has reached my throat, clasping down with a phantom hand. My feet move without my approval and I find myself walking away from the group, towards the creature that lurks beyond the trees. 

Yellow Star grabs my shoulder and gently pulls me back. She gives me a worried look as my eyes stay focused on the tree line. 

“I can feel it too,” she whispers to me, “he’s here.”

As if even uttering that calls him, the Coyote’s yellow eyes flash in the black space between the trees. His light footsteps turn heavy and those yellow eyes morph into the pale blue eyes I’ve memorized. He looks like a human aside from the elongated fingers where claws lurk and pointed ears that hide beneath his shaggy brown hair. Dressed in all black, he blends in with the darkness around him no matter how brightly we may shine. A shutter races through my body when we lock eyes and a smirk grows across his face. 

“What do you want?” My eldest sister, White Star, sneers at him as the others attempt to help the youngest. 

He doesn’t answer or even acknowledge her, his focus entirely on me. Yellow Star steps in front of me as two more of our sisters do the same. His eyes narrow at the action but he finally turns to look at White Star. She asks him again? “What do you want, trickster?”

He rolls his eyes at the name, “you’ll need to try harder if you want to insult me.”

Pink Star cries out again when someone ties a cloth around her leg and White Star snaps her full attention to him. She moves with grace as she stalks towards him, hands balled tightly into fists as she comes face to face with him. 

Well face to chest as he stands nearly three heads taller than her. 

He merely glances down his nose at her, “what do I want?”

Bending down so he can truly be face to face with her, he says to her, “I want your sister.”

“My sister?”

His piercing eyes flicker over her shoulder to where I’m surrounded, “That is what I said.”

“No.”

He looks back to her, a brief moment of surprise flickering across his face, “No? I wasn’t asking for your permission, I was telling you. She belongs to me and I want her.”

“No. She is not yours. You cannot have her.”

He brings one hand up to grab her face, the claws finally making their appearance, “I was being kind with the youngling. I won’t offer the same treatment for you or the others if you don’t give me what I want.”

White Star‘s anger seems to morph in a calm and collected facade as she leans into him, “I wouldn’t expect anything less from you. The answer is no, now and for eternity. No you cannot take her.”

I can feel the growl rumbling through his chest before I hear it and I let out my own scream as his hand drops to her throat. We all gasp and cry out as her body falls to the cold ground and he stands with her windpipe in his hand. He makes a show of dropping it and wiping the blood off on the fabric of his pants. The black fabric greedily drinks in the blood and there is not even a wet spot where it once was. 

The Coyote looks between her body and us, “unless you want to join your sister in the spirit world, I suggest you give me what I want.”

No one speaks and he rolls his eyes again as the claws from the other hand come out. 

“Give me Blue Star and I’ll even let you take the body,” he grinds out between clenched teeth. 

Yellow Star is the one brave enough to speak, “You’ve killed one of us and almost killed another but yet you expect us to obey you? Even you should know better than that, Coyote.”

He sizes her up, taking in her tall and broad form. She had always been the strongest one of us all but always the most kind hearted. His eyes flicker to where the smaller White Star lies and then to where the young Pink Star is safely tucked behind more of our sisters. Her cries have stopped but dry tears stick to her brown face and her eyes pink to like her name, are trained on him. 

“I don’t feel like playing games or solving riddles today,” he warns while stepping over White Star and towards us, “I also don’t want to repeat myself anymore.”

The two sisters who are standing at my side gently tug me back as Yellow Star walks to meet him. A few of the older ones join her but the rest come to surround Pink Star and I. My own tears have stopped falling and now rage fills my body as I look wildly between the inevitable bloodshed in front of us and the women around me. 

“Green Star,” I beg the woman to my right, “we can’t let them fight. It’s me that he wants, let me handle this.”

Her green eyes are full of sadness and despair as she searches my face. 

“No,” she finally says before wrapping her hand around my bicep. I try to yank it away but another sister, Purple Star, grabs the other. She gives me a pointed look causing the two lines that stretch downwards under both eyes to go taunt. 

“Don’t,” She tells me and drags me back. 

His voice pulls out attention back to him, “Come to me, my blue star.”

Both of us go still. 

He’s calling me. 

My sisters’ eyes burn into either side of my face as my mind races and I desperately try to come up with something, anything to say. 

“You have ten seconds before I rip all of their throats out,” he calls again and it grows more clear that we may not have another choice. 

Yellow Star puts a large hand to stop him, “Do not come any closer.”

“Stop me then,” he snarls at her while stalking closer like a predator readying to attack its prey and when she makes no such move, he pushes, “I will take what is mine and you cannot stop me.”

I can see the claws itching to find a home in her neck and the violent image of all my sisters ending up like White Star makes me ill. It seems as though the two holding me are also lost in their head and I manage to pull myself out of their grasp. Stumbling past them and the wall of others before me, I break through and nearly fall. Everyone’s eyes are now on me, waiting for my next move but I have nothing. I’ve come up with nothing but simply handing myself over to save them. 

A wildly stupid plan and the senselessness of it is only amplified by the grin that’s spread across the Coyote’s face. Yellow Star looks at me in quiet horror. 

A mistake she instantly pays for. 

One clawed hand slashes across her chest and neck and she staggers backwards, her eyes wide with fear and surprise. A choked sob breaks from my mouth and I launch myself to catch her as she falls to the ground. Cradling her against my chest, I mummer every kind and comforting word that I can think of. I refuse to look at the damage on her chest, too afraid to acknowledge that it might be fatal. From anyone or anything else, she would survive but those claws are sharper and stronger. They find their target no matter how quickly their victim is and unfortunately for my sister, she was too distracted by me to guess his next move. 

“My blue star,” he says with all the affection and tenderness in the world, “come here.” 

The sickly sweet drawl in his voice entices me to follow his orders but his actions have me rooted in my place with my dying sister on my lap. 

His blue eyes are replaced with the yellow of his animal form while another snarl rips through his chest and as my sister’s last breath leaves hers. Hot tears flood my eyes as I stare at her still chest but I tear them away to look at him. Waves of anger and frustration roll off of him as we make eye contact again. His soften for a moment when I finally look at him but mine harden all the more at the monster before me. He goes to take another step towards me, now only a few feet from me but I stop him. 

“You’ll kill them all if I refuse?”

“Yes,” he doesn't hesitate with his answer. 

“And if I go, will you let them go free?”

“Yes.” 

I look down to my sister. The bright yellow of her eyes has faded as she stares up at the night sky where we had danced only moments ago. I look to White Star and I swear that I see a tear fall from her snow white eyes. Behind me, I can feel the pain and sadness that fills my sisters as they watch us. I can feel the sheer heart break that no doubt washes over their faces as I gently lift Yellow Star from my lap and place her on the ground. Placing a chaste kiss to her forehead, I ask the spirits to welcome my sisters with open arms and full hearts. No one speaks or moves as I get to my feet and face the Coyote in his trickster glory. 

He extends a hand out for me to take, those terrible claws no longer in sight. The pale blue eyes have returned and for a moment, I forget that I’m not looking at any normal man.  For a moment, I forget the carnage he leaves in his wake or the blood that stains every inch of his sun kissed skin. I forget that this man has murdered my sisters and would have murdered them all if given the chance. 

For a moment, I feel safe as I take his hand in mind but the small cries of Pink Star behind me bring me back to reality. Sensing that I’ll back away and run towards safety, he nearly crushes my hand and drags me towards him. Whatever safety I might have felt is only a figment of my imagination, a cruel trick he used to convince me to come to him. 

The hand that held mine has moved to wrap around my waist so that I can’t move from his chest. The other grips my chin and his thumb trails over the three vertical lines there. The action sends a shiver through my body but I force myself to keep still and keep my eyes trained on his face. 

He dips his head down and his lips brush over my cheek as he whispers into my ear, “Finally my blue star. I’ve waited for you for far too long and now you’re mine.”

Whatever words I might have had are lost and he smirks at my silence. Drawing away, he orders my sisters to leave and tells them that they may take the bodies. His bruising hold doesn’t let up as I hear them scramble to grab our fallen sisters and dash towards the skies. Only when they are gone and we are alone does he let me have a few inches of space but only to grip my chin again. 

“What is your name?” he asks as he nuzzles against my hair, taking deep breaths as if I calm the storm inside of him. 

My hesitation frustrates him and the hand on my chin falls to my throat. He pulls back enough to be nose to nose with me. 

“Tell me your name.”

“Y/N,” I gasp as the hand grows tighter and the claws dip into the soft skin. 

“Y/N,” he repeats and grins. He says it again while his eyes flutter close and he nuzzles against me again. 

“Y/N, my blue star.”

My own eyes flutter close as his unspoken threat seeps into my heart. If it is freedom that I crave, it will be his heart that I need to carve out.

[luci4theminorannoyance]

Hi!! I'm bit shy but I was wondering if you could a valeria x fem!native American fluff if you can it's ok.

(I hope you have a nice day or night🤗)

a/n: Hii! Sure I write for all races so there’s no need to be shy :)

Valeria:

-always curious to learn things about you!! She adores doing anything and everything she can with you

-happy to do things with you always :)

-tried to study your culture a bit more once and got a bit confused but understood MOST of it luckily

[moeitsu]

The Tie Which Linked My Soul To Thee

Summary: Kate is not immune to the dangers of the land. No matter how much she loved it, the land will never love her back.

Ao3 Wattpad Masterlist - All Chapters Ch.1 Ch.2 Ch.3 Ch.4 Ch.5 Ch.6 Ch.8 Ch.9 Ch.10

Trigger Warning: Graphic depictions of violence and disturbing imagery. If you do not like depictions of war and torture please proceed with caution. I did heavy research for this chapter, but please know it is entirely FICTIONAL. The characters are not real, but the events are based on real American history. Tags: Arthur Morgan/Original Female Character, Widowed, Original Character, Mutual Pining, Slow Build, Eventual Smut, Eventual Romance, Fluff and Angst, Hurt/Comfort, High Honor Arthur Morgan, Friends to Lovers, Child Loss, Trauma, Canon-Typical Violence, Arthur Morgan Does Not Have Tuberculosis, Arthur Morgan Deserves Happiness, Chubby Arthur Morgan, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence

Ch 7 - The Sun Can Never Dip So Low

1890

I knew I was going to die. 

If the arrow in my side does not take me, then the man who rides the horse I lay across surely will. 

I felt no pain. Perhaps it was the fever of the fight. But it didn’t hurt. I thought of screaming and thrashing, but I thought better of it. As my father would say, ‘The one good thing about problems, is they’ll still be problems later. Don’t need to deal with them right away.’

Either way, I was still going to die. 

If only my father had taught me how to survive the frontier. I know now that you must learn to recognize those who won’t survive, and be wary of their doomed decisions. They are to be avoided at all costs. Because their fear is tragedy’s closest cousin. And tragedy is contagious in this place.

My mind was snuffed by a white blanket of fear, but somehow I prayed, and prayed, and prayed. But God had already abandoned me, perhaps he never loved me at all. My life had been an endless cycle of taking, why would it stop taking now. 

I had no idea where the man was taking me. I did not speak his language. I had heard stories about the wars between the Indians and Englishman. But I did not have a way to tell them I’m not a part of it, but I knew somehow if I could it would not matter. War will turn men into predators, and women into prey. 

Only days ago I felt like I was drowning under a waterfall, but now I see this is the real river of death.

The adrenaline had begun to leak out of my body along with the blood from the arrow. I watched in a blurred haze as the droplets disappeared into the ground as the horse took us swiftly through the dark forests. The pain began creeping in along with the darkness as I blacked out. 

When I woke I found myself laying on the dirt of a fort, the sound of Englishmen talking with the Indians brought me out of my haze. I thought I had been saved, I wanted to yell and scream for help. But the conversation did not sound pleasant, I could barely make out the figure of a man who must be a general and another who must have been the chief. To my surprise, I saw a young Indian woman standing behind the general, her wrists bound. She looked my age, but deathly beaten and ill. My throat closed in. 

The chief's voice rose in anger and I watched him point at me, then at the woman. After a moment the general waved his hands, and the girl was unbound and brought to the chief, he swiftly lifted and cradled her. I knew then it was his daughter. At the same time one of the general's men came walking in my direction and I realized I wasn’t being rescued, but traded. One woman for another, and eye for an eye. 

I thought death was better than being a prisoner, as my mind raced with panic. I almost begged the Indians to turn back and kill me. 

There must be a heaven, because that night I knew I had entered the gates of hell. Crawling on my hands and knees into the belly of the beast as he took me in his bed. Night after endless night. 

My days had turned into nights, and I no longer saw the point in living. Like my eyes had become devoid of color, and the world turned black and gray. Instead of praying to be rescued, I prayed my injury would kill me. 

There were other prisoners in the fort, mostly Lakota men. I bore no hatred for their people, but entirely my own. Their greed so suffocating they took the daughter of the chief, an innocent girl who had no part in their war. And turned her into a shell of herself. All in the name of greed. It was always greed. 

I thought my life couldn’t have any more surprises for me, that it must end here. But my life was about to change yet again. 

I noticed one of the other prisoners began watching me, then leaving behind extra food and water for me. After a few days, he approached me. 

“What is your name?” he asked, his accent thick. Like my language did not fit right in his mouth. Unlike his own.

“Kate,” I answered. Surprised to hear my own voice after days of torture, “what’s yours?” 

“Egwani,” he said, “or in your language little river. That wound in your belly is going to get infected.” River nodded at the small purple wound on my stomach . The general's men had cauterized it, but my body had been rising with a fever for the past two days. 

“It’s already infected.” And I hoped it would kill me quickly. 

River shook his head, “I can help you.” 

“Why would you help me?” Not that there was any hope for me anyways. Even if he stopped the infection, I was still stuck in this hell. 

“That woman the white man traded you for, she is my wife.” 

A chill ran down my spine. I did not want to think about what they did to her infront of him. 

“You gave your life to save hers. So I will save yours.” He said sincerely. Not that I had a choice in the matter, but still. If one woman came out of this alive, then I guess my death would have some meaning to it. 

“Even if you stop the infection, these men will kill me. There’s nothing you can do, I’m going to die here.” My voice betrays my thoughts. Desperation creeping its way into the cracks. Inside I wanted the pain to end, I wanted my suffering to cease. But I was still terrified, beneath it all I longed to return home. Pretend none of it happened. Return to my old life with my family. But that version of me no longer exists. 

River chuckled softly. 

“Is something funny?” The last thing I needed was to be shown kindness and then mocked. Like the general’s men had not degraded me enough. 

“You are stubborn like the Amicalola,” he smiled. Why was he smiling? Had he not suffered just as much as I had? He must have seen his wife beaten nearly within an inch of her life, and he could do nothing, yet he was smiling at me now. 

The pain in my body made my words come out bitter and sharp, “I don’t know what that means.”

“My people’s word for waterfall. You are strong like one too. It is a good name.” 

I scoffed, how incredibly wrong he was. 

“I’m not,” I stated with a groan. My head throbbed from the fever and my body was cold from the chills as the infection raged through my insides. 

“I can give you medicine. And when my people return in a few weeks, I will escape and take you with me.” He explained. 

“I think I’d rather you just kill me now,” I said, closing my eyes. The world around me was spinning in a dark haze, gravity pulling my body down with my thoughts. 

“You could have killed yourself days ago,” River began, “you could have taken a rope to your throat, or a knife to your heart. But you did not,” I opened my eyes again and looked at him, “that is how I know you are strong. Your will to live is burning through you right now with a fever.” 

My eyes filled with tears, and my throat suddenly felt thick. For the first time in what felt like forever, my heart began to fill with hope. River closed the gap between us and placed a gentle palm on my forehead, feeling the heat of my skin. 

“I have watched you turn towards the pain as it tears into you. I have seen the way you survive, these men think they have taken everything from you. But you have not let them devour your soul.”

“I could do nothing to stop them,” I croaked. Hot tears spilling down my cheeks like water through a dry creek bed. 

“Sometimes, there is strength in surrendering. But you have surrendered nothing to the pain. I see your tears, but you do not weep,” he brushed a thumb over my wet face, “you are a warrior.” 

━━━━━༻❁༺━━━━━

True to his word, River’s men showed up exactly two weeks later. But before that, he had given me a salve mixed from honey and sage and rubbed it over my arrow wound, as well as the numerous others I had accumulated in my time here. He also gave me an herbal tea for the infection, and by some miracle it was working. Each day I felt my strength returning to me. 

River took beatings for me, when I could not walk or do chores. Or simply when the men felt like taking their frustrations out on another human being. And I felt incredibly guilty for it. But he always assured me that I needed to save my strength for the real fight, when his people came. Yet nothing could have prepared me for what was about to unfold. 

They came under the cover of night, and used the forest and mountains to their advantage. They brought the fire, as the fort was made entirely out of wood and before long it became a fiery prison from hell. I knew our escape would not be easy, even with the help of Rivers' men. I had my strength back, but no knowledge of how to actually fight. I was lucky enough to escape with just a burn on my calf. 

It had been a bloody massacre, and the men fought savagely. The Lakota people came with arrows and tomahawks and spears, and I watched as they made the men of the fort suffer. It brought a sickening joy to my heart, to see the men who had raped me have their skulls crushed and insides ripped apart. It felt like justice. 

We lost people on our side, too many. None of the other prisoners had made it out alive. And I grieved for the other girls of the camp who did not make it like I had, it felt unfair. But we managed to escape. After hours of blazing rage, River swiftly lifted me onto the back of a horse, and together we rode far away from the fort. Only a few of his people escaped alongside us, as we left behind their final resting place. The numbing shock of war is behind me now, and hope has taken its place.

His men had informed us that his tribe had moved to the bottom of the Tennessee river, to escape the constant attacks and find refuge further west. So that is where our journey took us. As if life had still granted me the irony of continuing west, despite all the horrors I had faced to get there. 

It took us nearly three months. We traveled through the Appalachian trails and the journey was not easy. We lived rough, and we lived hard. I felt like a burden most days, as I knew I was slowing down their journey. I was still not entirely healed, and some days I felt I did not have the strength to travel at all. But River was patient, and never made me feel like it was my fault. 

He taught me how to hunt, how to fish, and how to set traps and skin animals. He even taught me some of his language, but most importantly he taught me how to survive. 

“When we kill an animal we must use all parts of it, to honor it. These creatures are innocent, and when we kill an innocent we become a little less of a man, and a little more of an animal.” He told me as he demonstrated how to properly skin a rabbit. 

Death is something we share with all creatures; rabbits, birds, horses and trees. It's everywhere, and eventually it will take everyone. Just as it had taken everyone who had loved me. Even as the stars die, we cannot run from it. 

Despite his people running from war, they could not escape death either. We arrived at River’s tribal camp, along the bank of the Tennessee river, and it had been reduced to ash. We were too late, or perhaps we were lucky, this could have been our fate too. River, and the men who came to rescue us, were the last of his people. I saw something dark enter him that day, as he held the charred bones of his wife and child. The woman whom I gave my life for, all for nought. As I stood there, living and breathing, and she did not. Their entire family history, wiped clean from the earth. 

His rage became the oil to my flame, I felt his anger mix with my own deep in my soul. All this death we had endured. Intertwined our fates like loops on a chain that bound us like shackles. But it was our grief that kept us on a tight leash. River sought revenge and justice, while I yearned to take from the world what it had taken from me. Together, we would instill fear into the heart of every man who crossed the land.

━━━━━༻❁༺━━━━━

Kate McCanon died the day I met River. What stood before him now was the Amicalola, the waterfall. I became a woman unrecognizable. 

Like many rivers, their journeys start with quiet beginnings, but as they are nourished by the waters of experience, they gather strength, flowing swiftly and deeply towards their desired path. If you follow their course and witness where they converge — they become a creature of beauty as well as fury. I became the waterfall: untamed and unbridled, sweeping away all in my path with wild abandon.

River made me into a warrior, and with each life I took, the world felt my turmoil. Anger guided my blade, for the world had stolen my family—my husband, and my daughter. It robbed me of myself, leaving me with nothing to lose. 

“Our purpose is to ensure our enemies' fear is greater than their greed,” he told me. We hunted poachers, bandits, and thieves. But his rage was never satisfied. 

He taught me how to kill, how to torture. How to fight with weapons capable of horrific fatalities. And I welcomed it with open arms. We fought and killed together for several years before I would begin to lose myself to the bloodshed. 

We were hunting a group of poachers, when we came upon what we believed to be their camp. River was the first to drag a man from his tent, a knife already in his side. He would ask questions, and then kill him slowly. His fate sealed the moment we found their tracks. The man claimed to know nothing, but we were not convinced. And it wouldn't matter anyways, we would kill everyone in the camp. Just for the sake of it.

“What you take from the land will be taken from you. Know that I am the land, and the land is killing you.” River spoke in his native tongue as he slit the man's throat. Sickeningly slow. He would choke to death in his own blood. 

A sound came from the man's tent and a figure emerged, I drew my bow, ready to release it as they stepped out. The moment a child appeared, I wished then that I had the strength to kill myself back at the fort. I had turned into a monster. 

My heart was in my stomach as a little girl cried for her father. What have I done? I had almost killed a child. And we just killed her father, I realized we had been at the wrong camp. And I had just doomed a mother to be a widow, and a childhood to be ruined. I might as well have handed my fate over to them.

River stood before me, his face shadowed and his eyes vacant. The man who once filled my heart with hope now dwelled in darkness himself. At that moment, I knew I had to leave. I could no longer fight alongside him; our path led to a place from which I could not return. Like Persephone, Queen of the Underworld, yet born under the light of Spring, I too would journey down the river Styx.

He did not resist my departure. River assured me I would always be welcomed among his people, and if I desired, he would take me as his wife. For years, River had been my strength, and I his, but now I was leaving him—to salvage what little I had left of myself. 

After calming the child, I made a solemn vow to reunite her with her mother. This marked the beginning of my journey to break the cycle, and seek redemption for what I had done. It would also mark the end of my journey as a warrior. As we parted ways,  he whispered a message into the wind. I could not tell if it was a goodbye, or a promise, or a warning. In his tongue he told me “follow the rivers, and they will take you to the waterfall.” 

~~~

AN: I seriously appreciate all the love you guys are showing for this story. It motivates me to write more, and I'm truly having so much fun with it. Thank you! <3

[xblackreader]

This is technically an attoye dream I had but I’m turning it into a free write story and gonna hyper fixate on this for a few days.

Historical romance price set in 1820-1870

A Muscogee indigenous boy, named Michael by the catholic school, is angry at the injustice of the world and wants to be free from his native residential school in Georgia. At 19, He is too old to continue school and refused to learn to read English, he can only speak it enough to converse with his bosses.

As a factory worker, he meets Miss. Celia, a 17 year old slave girl who is soft spoken and sensitive to the world. He sees her being harassed by a drunk plantation owner and protects her before she takes him to her home to patch him up.

He tells her his real name is Takoda Lanon , and she calls him that from now on.

When she figures out he can’t read, she attempts to teach him but he grows frustrated, but he continues to try because he is falling in love with her. And she is falling in love with him.

He sneaks to her little cabin in the fields every night to eat her food and try to get , her to run up north with him. She is hesitant as her life on the plantation is all she has ever known. When he gets her pregnant, she knows she has no choice however: if they find out who got her pregnant, they’ll kill her baby and hang Michael.

Will they escape Georgia before she begins to show, will he be caught running away from the catholic school? 🤭

[hfbeasty]

I have created a Navajo character for my webcomic and I am looking for feedback on her concept preferably from someone who is Native American/Navajo. I can offer art in return for a sensitivity reading! Dm me :)

[pickledpascal]

Bewitched

Chapter Seven: Bleed Magic

Warnings: Violence, assault, racial profiling, swearing.

Word Count: 2.2k

Bewitched Masterlist

Previous Chapter | Next Chapter

Beau was swamped at work. And Dalia was outside, playing somewhere. Kiera didn't mind having the house to herself but she was so used to having the chatty sheriff around that the house seemed too silent. She sighed and grabbed a shawl to wrap around her body. She had been working at home for most of that day and just finished everything up. File some documents, talk with a few clients over the phone, small stuff like that. She needed to find Dalia to get dinner, but she usually appeared on time once it was done.

Kiera drew in a deep breath. Much like Beau, recently, her mind had been a mess between work and trying to take care of Dalia and also having a personal life. Maybe a walk would do some good? Feel the cool night air pass through her lungs. Perhaps that was why some people thought she was a vampire. 

She went on quite a few night walks when things began to overwhelm her. She really wasn't beating the witch allegations either. 

Kiera pushed her hands into the pockets of her pants as she stepped onto the sidewalk. Her neighbors weren't too close but enough that they would be able to see fires in the sandbox behind her house or any other “activities” Dalia did. They sure as hell loved to complain. 

She took a deep breath as she walked, feeling the cool air fill her lungs. Strangely, it always made her feel better. She let out the breath, a light smile at the edges of her lips. She ran a hand through her hair and pushed it to gather on her right shoulder to feel the coolness on her neck slightly. The worries on her mind we're slowly melting away.

Kiera admired the trees, still green and blooming from the beginnings of spring. Dalia always loved picking flowers and giving them to her, wildflowers. 

Kiera wasn't sure how she knew the difference between poisonous plants and normal ones, but she hadn't needed to go to the hospital yet so Kiera imagined she was extremely careful or read enough books on flowers that she didn't need to guess. 

After a little while, she wondered what Beau was up to. If he was still at work or was back at his trailer. She hummed a tune stuck in her head, something new by Dua Lipa she heard while flipping to the Metal station. She had versatility, it wasn't like she couldn't enjoy other types of music, she just had more of a preference for Goth music and its subgenres.

An unsettled feeling formed in Kiera's stomach. Her eyes narrowed. She had learned to trust her instincts over the years. She glanced at her surroundings, no one else was out… 

Kiera began to turn around and blinked as a knife was slashed through the air, she just narrowly dodged it, getting nicked near her shoulder. It was too dark to tell what the person was wearing besides the mask on their face. 

Acting as quickly as she could, she grabbed onto their outstretched arm and used her other hand to punch the person in the jaw. They were knocked out cold. 

Hm, working out certainly did its intended purpose. 

———

Late nights at the Sheriff's office was not how Beau liked spending his evenings. He'd give anything to be in Kiera's bed, surrounded by her warmth and soothing scent—he wanted it injected into his veins. Well, maybe that was a bit dramatic. 

He scratched at his neck, letting out a frustrated groan as he went over a case file for the millionth time it felt like. 

“Hey,” There was a knock on his door. Beau looked up from the file to see Mo peeking inside. “It's, uh, something happened with Kiera.”

Beau blinked, immediately standing up from his desk, causing his chair to hit the wall. “What the hell happened?” His heart started to race. Kiera told him she could take care of herself and he trusted her but, at the same time, he couldn't help but worry. 

Mo coughed a little. “Neighbors called the cops, thinking she started a physical altercation.”

Beau raised an eyebrow and shook his head. “I'm gonna check it out, okay? And good-fucking-night cause I'm not coming back here ‘till mornin’.” He told Poppernack, grabbing his jacket and making his way to his truck.

He needed to add Kiera's neighbors onto his punch list. He gripped the steering wheel hard, knuckles turning white. Just what he needed after a long day, his girlfriend getting the cops called on her for something she likely didn't start herself. 

As he rode into Kiera's neighborhood, it didn't take too long seeing as there were a few cop cars and an ambulance. He could see Kiera inside the back of it. 

Beau jumped out of his car, nearly forgetting to put it in park. “Beau Arlen, Lewis and Clark County Sheriff's office,” he flashed his badge at the paramedics to let him through. As he got closer, he could see she was cuffed to the side of the ambulance. And the bandage on her shoulder. “Kiera, sugar, you okay?” He cupped her face. 

Kiera looked up at Beau and hummed a little. “Should see the other guy.” She teased, eyes tired. 

“What the hell happened?” He asked, looking for any other sign that she was distressed but found none and that… saddened him. 

“Fucker tried to shank me from behind, only left a small scratch.” She rolled her shoulder that had the wound on it. “In return, I gave him a mean left hook. I guess they thought I decided to beat someone up for fun.” She let out a humorless laugh.

Beau narrowed his eyes at Kiera before he turned to one of the paramedics. “Get these cuffs off her for me.”

“Um, yessir.” He was a young kid and did immediately as asked. 

Beau sat next to Kiera and wrapped an arm around her waist, “We can deal with this in the morning, hm?” He suggested softly. He could feel just how tired Kiera was by looking at her. It seemed her emotions were running thin, as was her capacity for empathy. 

After being with Kiera for a while, Beau started to notice things about her. Signs of when she was having worse days than others. How quiet she'd get, how much she tried to be excited about things but wasn't, things of that nature. 

“I was gonna make dinner.” Kiera murmured in a monotone voice.

Beau shook his head and helped Kiera stand even though she probably didn't need it. “I'm sure I can scrounge something up for all of us to have, sugar, it's alright.” 

“Where the hell is she going?” A woman cried out, arms crossed against her chest. She was fair skinned with blonde hair and a robe on, as if she was just awakened in the middle of the night. She probably was. 

Beau glanced from Kiera to the blonde woman. “That's Cindy,” Kiera said, “The one who called the cops.”

He pursed his lips and nodded. Time to turn up the charm. “Hello, Miss.” He turned to face the blonde. “I'm afraid you misread the situation with Kiera here, she was defending herself against an attacker. Now, if you'll excuse me, I'm going to take her home.”

“Excuse me?” Cindy raised an eyebrow. “Who are you to just let her off the hook? That thing,” She motioned towards Kiera's general direction. “Has been causing so much trouble in this neighborhood and I want her arrested!” 

Beau rubbed Kiera's unscathed shoulder before he looked back at Cindy, pulling back his jacket to reveal his badge. “I'm Sheriff Arlen, ma’am. And I know this woman personally. But I would love to hear about this trouble you speak of, has Kiera put you or anyone else in this neighborhood in any danger at all?” 

“No, well, I—”

“Then have a good night, ma’am.” Beau guided Kiera back home. 

Dalia was waiting in the living room, kicking her feet with her head held down. Kiera was silent and sat down next to her. 

Beau pursed his lips. He kneeled down in front of Dalia and cupped her face gently. “You hungry, honey?” She nodded.

Like mother, like daughter, huh? 

“Alright, I'll heat up some leftovers. That okay?” They both nodded. He stood back up and pressed a kiss to Kiera's head. “After dinner, I'm gonna take a look at that shoulder.” 

Dinner came and went, barely any sound besides their utensils against bowls and a slight wince from Kiera when she moved her shoulder the wrong way. 

Once Dalia was put to bed, Beau helped Kiera take off her shirt so he could assess the damage. It wasn't horrible and the stitches the paramedics gave her were expertly done. He sighed as he dabbed a bit of alcohol on the wound to clean it and bandage it back up for the night.

“Y'know… I don't know what I'd do without you.” He murmured softly, ripping the gauze before he taped it against her shoulder. 

Kiera let out a soft breath. “I know.” She lifted a hand to cup Beau's cheek, caressing it softly. “You are quite the diamond, aren't you?” Her eyes were soft and filled with adoration. 

Beau fastened the gauze on her, lowering his hand to rest on her arm. “What does that mean?” He asked with a small smile.

“Just that I love you,” Kiera smiled back. “And I could never dream of leaving you. Even if your hands were stained in my blood, I don't think—no, I know—I would smile through the pain.” She glanced away from Beau just as he was about to say something. “But you'd never do that. And that is what makes you a diamond to me.” 

Beau couldn't respond to that. What the hell would he even say? ‘Thanks.’ That didn't even begin to cover it. He pulled Kiera into a kiss, something soft but full of emotion. 

If things didn't go the way they did, Kiera might've been killed. And, fuck, that thought scared him. He would've been devastated. Dalia would've been practically homeless unless Beau properly adopted her and… well, he knew about the horror of foster homes and— and—

“You're thinking too hard, sweetheart.” Kiera's soothing voice whispered. “What happened happened. I'm alive.” She hooked a finger under his chin. 

Beau let out a humorless chuckle and nodded. “I know you are. I do. It's just—”

“Breathe.” 

“What?”

“Breathe with me.” 

“I don't—”

“You have a punch list or whatever. Do a breathing exercise with me, hm?” Kiera suggested with a slight smile. “And maybe lose the flannel.”

Beau glanced down at his attire and sighed, shaking his head but doing as asked. He stripped off his jeans, boots and flannel and got in bed next to her. She raised a hand to rest over his wildly beating heart.

“Deep breath in.” 

Beau drew in a breath.

“Hold it. For… one, two, three, four. Now exhale.”

He exhaled. Simply listening to the sound of her voice calmed him. 

“Can you just… keep talking? Please?” Beau asked gently. He could already feel his heart rate slowing. 

The edges of Kiera's lips twitched upwards. “About what?”

“Anything.” Beau breathed.

She pursed her lips for a moment. She could talk for hours about any given topic yet found it hard to choose just one. “Well, y'know I really like video games? My favorite is a series called Uncharted which was recently turned into a movie which fuckin’ sucked ass. I mean, they ruined Sully's characters so irrevocably. I understand they're going for a young Nate but goddamn, they really—”

Beau was listening. He was. Well, maybe not exactly. But he loved her voice and maybe, subconsciously, he was taking in the information and filing it away for later so he'd understand what she was talking about in the future. 

Eventually, Kiera talked Beau to sleep. He was quite the snorer. Probably something to do with those Texan genes. Not that Kiera had ever met a real Texan before Beau. So she didn't have anything to base that off of besides her own imagination mixed with stereotypes she’s heard. 

Perhaps Beau thought the same things about her. As both a transgender woman and a Native American. There were enough stereotypes about that to fill an entire three-hundred page book. He didn’t seem to care about that. Another reason he was a diamond. Someone who didn’t care about her identity—at least, not in that way. In fact, he was quite interested in her heritage and what it all meant. Not to mention, Beau quite liked trying new foods. 

Kiera got as comfortable as possible in bed with Beau, being careful with her shoulder and pressed a kiss to his forehead. She imagined Beau would be quite similar to a bear as he slept, big but soft and fluffy. He also really loved to cling to her and nearly always shifted in bed when she tried to go to the bathroom in the middle of the night.

Or maybe Beau was more like a dog. A big dog. Who loved unconditionally. Yeah, that was it. 

-------

taglist: @deans-spinster-witch

[rockislandadultreads]

Nonfiction Thursday: Native American Heritage Month

A Mind Spread Out on the Ground by Alicia Elliott

In an urgent and visceral work that asks essential questions about the treatment of Native people in North America while drawing on intimate details of her own life and experience with intergenerational trauma, Alicia Elliott offers indispensable insight into the ongoing legacy of colonialism. She engages with such wide-ranging topics as race, parenthood, love, mental illness, poverty, sexual assault, gentrifcation, writing and representation, and in the process makes connections both large and small between the past and present, the personal and political - from overcoming a years-long battle with head lice to the way Native writers are treated within the Canadian literary industry; her unplanned teenage pregnancy to the history of dark matter and how it relates to racism in the court system; her childhood diet of Kraft Dinner to how systemic oppression is directly linked to health problems in Native communities.

With deep consideration and searing prose, Elliott provides a candid look at our past, an illuminating portrait of our present, and a powerful tool for a better future.

An Afro-Indigenous History of the United States by Kyle T. Mays

Beginning with pre-Revolutionary America and moving into the movement for Black lives and contemporary Indigenous activism, Afro-Indigenous historian, Kyle T. Mays argues that the foundations of the US are rooted in antiblackness and settler colonialism, and that these parallel oppressions continue into the present. He explores how Black and Indigenous peoples have always resisted and struggled for freedom, sometimes together, and sometimes apart. Whether to end African enslavement and Indigenous removal or eradicate capitalism and colonialism, Mays shows how the fervor of Black and Indigenous peoples calls for justice have consistently sought to uproot white supremacy.

Mays uses a wide-array of historical activists and pop culture icons, "sacred" texts, and foundational texts like the Declaration of Independence and Democracy in America. He covers the civil rights movement and freedom struggles of the 1960s and 1970s, and explores current debates around the use of Native American imagery and the cultural appropriation of Black culture. Mays compels us to rethink both our history, as well as contemporary debates, and to imagine the powerful possibilities of Afro-Indigenous solidarity.

Canyon Dreams by Michael Powell

Deep in the heart of northern Arizona, in a small and isolated patch of the vast 17.5-million-acre Navajo reservation, sits Chinle High School. Here, basketball is passion, passed from grandparent to parent to child. Rez Ball is a sport for winters where dark and cold descend fast and there is little else to do but roam mesa tops, work, and wonder what the future holds. The town has 4,500 residents and the high school arena seats 7,000. Fans drive thirty, fifty, even eighty miles to see the fast-paced and highly competitive matchups that are more than just games to players and fans.

Celebrated Times journalist Michael Powell brings us a narrative of triumph and hardship, a moving story about a basketball team on a Navajo reservation that shows how important sports can be to youths in struggling communities, and the transcendent magic and painful realities that confront Native Americans living on reservations. This book details his season-long immersion in the team, town, and culture, in which there were exhilarating wins, crushing losses, and conversations on long bus rides across the desert about dreams of leaving home and the fear of the same.

We Refuse to Forget by Caleb Gayle

In We Refuse to Forget, award-winning journalist Caleb Gayle tells the extraordinary story of the Creek Nation, a Native tribe that two centuries ago both owned slaves and accepted Black people as full citizens. Thanks to the efforts of Creek leaders like Cow Tom, a Black Creek citizen who rose to become chief, the U.S. government recognized Creek citizenship in 1866 for its Black members. Yet this equality was shredded in the 1970s when tribal leaders revoked the citizenship of Black Creeks, even those who could trace their history back generations - even to Cow Tom himself.

Why did this happen? How was the U.S. government involved? And what are Cow Tom's descendants and other Black Creeks doing to regain their citizenship? These are some of the questions that Gayle explores in this provocative examination of racial and ethnic identity. By delving into the history and interviewing Black Creeks who are fighting to have their citizenship reinstated, he lays bare the racism and greed at the heart of this story. We Refuse to Forget is an eye-opening account that challenges our preconceptions of identity as it shines new light on the long shadows of white supremacy and marginalization that continue to hamper progress for Black Americans.

[tropical-lycan]

Looking for Indigenous / Native American sensitivity readers

Hey I know it might sound random, but I was wondering if there were indigenous people in the All for the Game fandom who could help me on something (specifically, native Americans -sorry I know this term is still up-to-debate but it's the most commonly used in my country and I used it here mostly to make the distinction on which indigenous people I'm talking about because the term can be vague). I'm looking for sensitivity readers.

I kinda want to give my version of Renee Walker an indigenous background for a fanfiction, but I needed to do some research because I don't want to write something based on stereotypes or to risk doing cultural appropriation (I'm a French white person, so for me it can be hard to distinguish real cultural information and things that have been twisted by media, especially since in don't live in America). I know it will be a minor detail in a fanfiction but I find it very important to make sure I don't accidentally offend anyone.

I'm not sure this aspect of Renee will make it into the final version of my fanfiction however, but if someone is willing to help I'd love to chat on the matter, my DMs are open.

If no one contacts me, it's okay! I'll simply remove that idea from my fic : )

[m11styy]

not to complain but we need way more indigenous reader fics etc

[mochminnie]

Distraction | Echo | Henry Lopez (Teaser)

Imagine Reader/Original Character (Faceclaim: Rita Daniela) being a Female 23 year old Hero/Avenger having a Relationship with Henry Lopez.

Stacey glaring at Erika. "What are you looking at me like that for? Did Biscuits tell you something I don't know about? I swear he can't keep a damn secret."

(Angel Locsin as Stacey)

Erika's older sister Stacey even saw her the other day with Henry. "Erika, we are at a small town where everyone knows each other. With the owner of the skating rink?!?! He is single for a reason. He could have a wife and kids." Sydney being concern for her sister.

"He's 45 and single. He got a niece." Stacey eyes widen as if what Erika said makes it a lot better. Not only she found out that Zane's men kidnapped Erika, Henry, Bonnie and Maya. She knows everything.

"He's dangerous! There is so many reason's why you should stay away from him. You heard what Chula said, "Those Lopez boys are trouble." I don't care that you're an Avenger you can't be serious right now."

“𝐈 𝐠𝐨𝐭 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐭𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐞 𝐟𝐨𝐫 𝐦𝐞𝐧 𝐰𝐡𝐨 𝐚𝐫𝐞 𝐨𝐥𝐝𝐞𝐫”

- 𝐋𝐚𝐧𝐚 𝐃𝐞𝐥 𝐑𝐚𝐲

Author's Note:

I really like Echo. Wish I see more of Maya and her Family. Hopefully we get to see Maya and her Family in future Marvel Projects like the Daredevil: Born Again show that's coming out in 2025.

There isn't very many Echo Books out there especially Henry Lopez fics.

I always been a fan of Twilight wasn't really payed enough attention for Chaske Spencer Portrayal as Sam Uley.

Why am I being attracted to another older man? His portrayal as a Single 45 year old stressed Uncle what got me. Who got a criminal past and owns a Skating Rink.  Not him as a Short Tempered Alpha Werewolf.

It is my first time writing about a huge 20+ Age Gap Relationship 45 Man and 23-25 year old Woman. Any tips?

What do you think of Echo so far?

How about my Original Character Erika and her sister Stacey and my aesthetic boards…

This book will also be posted on Wattpad, Quotev, A03

I’ll then post in depth with Erika and Stacey. What kind of Relationship between Ericka & Henry have.