#Abraham Woodhull I know what you are

[culpeppercheckers721]

Ok before I stop ranting about Who By Fire since the last time I rewatched it, tonight, I give you this shitpost— COMBINED memes for this one 👍

Anyways, I think you get the idea 🤪

[enchi-elm]

On this day, September 5 in 1779, the historical Benjamin Tallmadge and Caleb Brewster were briefly united in person—a rare event, contrary to their portrayal in Turn: Washington’s Spies. The occasion was an attempt to oust a nest of Loyalist marauders—privateers—who were menacing the northern coast of Long Island in the very area where Abraham Woodhull was conducting his spy activities. The Loyalist “freebooters”, as Tallmadge describes them in his memoir, were encamped near a fortified post, the garrison Fort Franklin, on a “promontory or elevated piece of ground next to the Sound, between Huntington Harbour and Oyster Bay”. The site is known today as Fort Hill Estate.

Tallmadge and Brewster and their men (a detachment and Brewster’s whaleboat fleet) arrived on Lloyd’s Neck at 10 pm after a five hour row across the Sound and set about attacking the encampment. Tallmadge’s plan was to take them quietly—without a single shot fired—so that once the marauders were dispatched they had a clean shot at the nearby British garrison. They captured almost the whole band, with only a few escapees, one of which fired a shot that alerted the British—their chance at the garrison was foiled. Still, Tallmadge, Brewster, and their prisoners departed quickly after destroying all the boats they could find. They rowed back to Connecticut (presumably another five hour row, argh) and arrived before sunrise without the loss of a single Patriot.

244 years later, on this day, September 5 in 2023, I finished my Tallster fanfiction “You’ve Caught Me Between Wind and Water”. I did not include any pirates, to my great regret. This story is my longest project to date and one that’s very dear to me.

I was pondering its 1-year completion anniversary—today, September 5, 2024, and whether I should write an epilogue for the story. What would they be doing a year after the events of Wind and Water? Bonus, what would they have been doing in that September of 1779 specifically? Imagine my tickled surprise, dear Readers, when the historical record delivered such serendipity. (Big BIG thank you to @ollieoliveoboelo22 for giving me photos of Tallmadge’s memoir and Alexander Rose’s book on the passages in question).

Of course they’re together in real life. Of course they’re ousting pirates. Of course they’re performing a raid.

And—the garrison! As readers may or may not know, taking down a garrison head-on was the planned finale for much of the time I spent writing the story. (It’s not subtle, there are a lot of hints.) In the end, I ended up shifting the focus to taking down a bunch of marauding Loyalists who were terrorizing the country-side and hassling Patriots. That fictional raid ended up being a major reconciliation for Ben and Caleb, who were on the outs.

So to go back in time and read about the events of September 5, 1779, and find out that Ben and Caleb were brought together in real life to take down a garrison—and failing that, settled for taking down a bunch of marauding Loyalists who were terrorizing the country-side and hassling Patriots… well, it must be some sort of divine sign.

[macaron-n-cheese]

Not on my watch!

TURNsgiving Day 3: You in Turn

Tbh I haven't given much thought to what I'd be in Turn. I just want to be Ensign Baker's friend lol. Honestly I'd rather be a guy in this situation...

Alright I'm a soldier in the British army as an ex-Marine or ex-sailor. I am in Setauket and I'm bored, I want adventure. The change of a calm, waterfront town was a nice change, but its charms wear off once you've been stuck there for a year with no family or friends. Sure, sure, there's camaraderie in the barracks, but it's not the same as on the sea. Some of the officers are INSUFFERABLE. Hewlett is a fair man, Simcoe is intense but competent, but Eastin and Joyce are self-centered and scheming. Ensign Baker is the only officer who is trustworthy and caring of us plain soldiers. Though I get along with other privates, none have my confidence like Baker. We have become good friends.

Recently, Baker has told me about trouble at the house he's quartered in. And then the battle happened, goodness, and I thought Setauket would stay boring. However, I was held captive with Baker and still didn't have a full adventure. After the battle, we were so deep in conversation about what had just passed that I didn't realize I was following him home! I said goodbye at the door, but froze, hearing agitated voices from within. Uh oh, this sounds like it's something different than the usual drama in the Woodhull household. Quickly, I throw open the door and rush in. A shot rings out and whizzes by my ear as I tackle Mr. Woodhull to the ground. Conveniently, the confused shot flies through the open door, missing Baker. He and I hoist up the man, hauling him to the garrison. Will our word be enough to convict him?

Fast-forward Abraham Woodhull, innocent. Mrs. Woodhull had conveniently burned all the evidence, there is no flintlock to be found, and Abe's "courageous" acts in the recent battle by helping negotiate peace clears him. I fear for our safety now that he is free. I pleaded with Baker to move quarters, but he claims, "It is my sworn duty to protect this town. I have no doubt that Mr. Woodhull's presence is endangering to us all. Certainly he has brought war to Setauket." Damn his unshakable sense of justice! With him coming so close to being killed, I cannot rest peacefully without knowing he's safe. I'm going to save him, somehow.

[turnwashingtonsbaddies]

PLS PLS OKS DEAR GOD GIVE US THE PUSS PUSS EATING RANKING OF TURN CHARACTERS I NEED IT LIKE SPONGEBOB NEEDS WATER (must include robert rogers)

ok im officially done with school (woo 🥳) so i can give everyone in my ask box what they've been waiting for. i am going to keep the list limited to the ppl in this promo photo bc there are so many goddamn characters in that show and if you want heavy-hitting analysis, i've gotta keep a short list (at least for now)

analysis under the cut:

as mentioned before caleb brewster does indeed SWEEP the pussy eating power rankings

as also mentioned before john andre is as mediocre in eating pussy as he is in acting and flute playing. he thinks he's amazing at it tho

now for the fun. i need to get this first paragraph out of the way bc it is about the man who made me begin to ponder this question 2 years ago in the first place. abraham. fucking. woodhull. this beanie-wearing menace to society has NEVER made anyone other than anna strong come. point blank period. even with anna tho, he's done it like maybe once or twice. whether or not he did it by giving her head is up for another debate tho

oh and speaking of anna strong. she gives me pillow princess vibes for a reason i cannot quite explain. it is just kind of a gut feeling i have. maybe it has to do with the fact that ppl are always just throwing themselves at her, so she doesn't have to bother with actually working on pleasuring them

but back to abe for a minute. he's actually (believe it or not) NOT the worst one on the list, and that is because richard woodhull has NEVER ONCE made a woman come. not even his wife. not once. richard has never even eaten pussy before. richard has only ever had sex in the missionary position. abe is a terrible partner for a reason, and that reason is bc he was raised by richard

one member of the woodhull family does possess some finesse however. mary woodhull eats pussy like a mf champion. i imagine her learning it was much like her learning how to fire a gun. at first she was like 'wtf is going on??? i cant do that??' but give it few tries and she easily upstages all the men around her

using mary shooting a gun as my transition here..... let's talk about simcoe. honestly, he does give me the vibes of someone who really wants to be good at eating pussy, and maybe he even enjoys doing it. however, i think he gives toothy head. and i also think he does it on purpose. that's right. he's a biter

speaking of ppl who enjoy eating pussy, i think hewlett slays in that department ngl. ik i said before that caleb is arguably the only man on the show who enjoys eating pussy, but i actually want to amend that bc i think hewlett does too. however, i think the one drawback for hewlett is that his desire and ability to give good head does come from a place of him being (and i mean this with peace and love hewlett enjoyers) a massive simp

i straight up dont have a transition for this one but it was literally an intrusive thought and i just need to expel it. ben tallmadge the type of guy to apologize after eating pussy. why? who knows. it could have even been decent head. he's still apologizing anyway. however my bet is that decent is the best he can do bc he's an overthinker, which can get in the way of having strong head game

finally, and yes i made you read all of this before giving you what you wanted anon, robert rogers. "(must include robert rogers)" is SO REAL. SO TRUE. you're right for saying so. however he is such an enigma to me and i really don't know where to place him both as an eater of pussy and frankly as an entity in general. i know he has to exist in some kind of extreme tho. god-tier head or the most abysmal head ever anyone's ever experienced. maybe he's even literally eating pussy, like in a cannibalism way. i'm not ruling that out either. honestly, maybe the quality of head varies between sessions too. after all, he's always gotta keep em on their toes

[deathzgf]

i had some Odd conversations with my mother today , most of Which happened to be recorded in oomf ' s discord dms . So ! here ' s the transcript no one asked for :3

me : john adams big naturals

mum :

mum : what about john adams and his big naturals ?

me : i ' m gonna bite them

mum : have you got a big enough mouth ?

me : WHAT ? HAVE I GOT A BIG ENOUGH MOUTH ?

me : HOW BIG DO YOU THINK JOHN ADAMS BIG NATURALS ARE ?

mum : well ! i ' ve heard they ' re huge

me : wheyuh ?

me : did thomas jefferson tell you that ?

me : what do you think of thomas jefferson telling king george iii that he could eat a fat dick ? ( in reference to fredrick douglass vs thomas jefferson )

mum : i ' m not sure that that was actually uh what was said

me : it did ! it did !

mum : i think that ' s someone being mischevious

me : no no no

mum : perverting history by making up stories about what was said

me :

me : wait till you find out about benjamin franklin ' s sex cult

me : if thomas jefferson has the fat dick

me : and john adams has the big naturals

me : who ' s flying the plane ?

mum : 🤓☝️ well they didn ' t have planes in those days so

me : i have a challenge for you

mum : what ' s the challenge ?

me : name one austrian who has contributed to something positive to society

mum :

me : is camille desmoulins like an archaeopteryx ?

mum : no

me : ok ok ok listen

me : federalist party vs democratic republican party

me : oiled up and booty butt naked ; who ' s winning the twerk off ?

mum :

mum : Wow

me : or would john adams big naturals win

mum :

me : federalist party vs democratic republican party vs john adams big naturals oiled up and booty butt naked who ' s winning the twerk off ?

mum : so oiled up . . . beauty butt naked

me : booty butt

mum : so in their birthday suit

me : yes

mum : and what was the final thing ?

me : who is winning the twerk off

mum : what ' s a twerk off

me :

me : where . . . where you compete to see who twerks the best

mum : is that . . . ejaculates the highest ?

me : no ? ? ?

me : actually who would ejaculate the highest

me : i feel like . . . thomas jefferson and his fat dick would win the ejaculation off

mum : right

me : but the twerk off

me : i feel like aaron burr would take that home for the democratic republican party

mum : yeah ?

me : yeah . . . but against john adams big naturals . . . ough

mum : well that sounds pretty hard to beat to be honest

me : wait wait wait would james monroe or aaron burr win the twerk off for the democratic republican party

mum : [ sings monty python ]

me : are you an annalett yuri truther

mum :

me : and look ! the reasons clear ! for the first time in a year ! john adams big naturals aren ' t here !

me : mum would you still love me if i was a liberal

mum :

me : my pretty princess 2008 john adams big naturals thomas jefferson

mum : but he ' s not a pretty princess

me : YES HE IS

mum : since when ?

me : SINCE [ starts crying ]

me : ok ok what are your thoughts on jamilton

mum : jamilton ?

me : JAMILTON

mum : who ' s that

mum : is that a crossbreed between hamilton and jefferson ?

me : ARE YOU AN ANNALETT YURI TRUTHER ?

mum : no

me , the # 1 annalett yuri truther : NO ? ?

me : are you a sewlett yuri truther

mum : no

me : ok are you a hamburr yuri truther

mum : no i ' m simple plain mum

me : do you think benjamin tallmadge is baby boy

mum : dain . i have no idea what kind of conversation we are having

me : but but but do you think benjamin tallmadge . is . baby . boy

mum : how do you think we ' re going to solve the world ' s housing problems ?

me :

me : with baby boy benjamin tallmadge

me : do you think abraham woodhull is baby boy

mum : excuse me ?

me : abraham woodhull is baby boy

mum : i don ' t even know if what you just said is a sentence or not

mum : abc

me : thomas jefferson ' s fat d

me : wait what comes after d

me : abcde E . estrogen

me : estrogen could have saved like . Everyone in the french revolution

me : estrogen could have saved camille desmoulins . estrogen could have saved louis antoine saint - just . estrogen could have saved maximilien robespierre . estrogen could not have saved georges danton . i hate danton . estrogen could have saved georges couthon . i looove couthon

me : you know what killed john laurens ?

me : the Fog

me : if the fog was british

me : i ' m britsh

mum : what do you think of antidisestablishmentarianism ?

average interaction with my mother

[meerawrites]

for the WIP ask thingy! 3 & 12

Nobody’s innocent, nobody’s proud, now that the chips are down… �� Hadestown

WIP.

Read more.

meta.

art for art's sake.

Q: favourite character in the fic?

A: presently tied between my original character, Audrey and Benjamin Tallmadge. In Magdalena's defence, I came up with her on the fly and in Lestat's defence, he is our antagonist as much as there is one in a fic where everyone is a lying liar who lies and is slipping morally or has already slipped and simply doesn't care or pleads the keenest observation that morality is relative.

Q: What do you expect readers to feel?

A: well, this is a self-indulgent fan fic, so what people take away from it is up to them. Mostly, I would like to remind the reader that to quote Anne Rice, "evil is always possible and goodness is eternally difficult." You can sympathize with a liar, spy, monster, or murderer, you can even love them. That doesn't make it less monstrous. It is about seeing ones self in the ‘monstrous’ other and against your better judgement, forgiving your own and learning to love it better.

Suddenly it all fell into place. It stung like a slap to the face. The thought of Audrey facing such indignities on his behalf and yet… he wants to run de Lioncourt through with a bayonet. How can he possibly be sure this isn’t some elaborate game to ensure he leaves alone, or… worse, sold out to the English. The war, after all, had not yet ended.  “I think you should step outside,” Audrey’s voice came sweetly. Breaking him from his disheartening reverie. She only means for him not to get killed.  “I’d rather stay,” Tallmadge insisted gently, simply. He only means to protect her, and what remained of her dignity. It hurt like an ever-twisting blade, the thought of Audrey indulging others. Yet, still, even then, she was protecting him. She was the weapon, the leverage, and the bargaining piece. He only wished this wasn't a twisted gamble for freedom. ‘All I ask is that you fight for what you believe!’ He had said, to a friend of his, Abraham Woodhull, once. Was Audrey not fighting for their way out, and keeping him alive? Though why he still didn’t know.  “As you insist, ma chér,” Audrey murmured, not pushing the issue.

( chapter 13, Anti-hero )

[timelessxmemories]

____________☾✧ ✩ ✧☽____________

「☆」⸝⸝ closed starter. ✧

⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀@lauraroleplayss

「☆」⸝⸝ pairing. ✧

⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀townhull.

____________☾✧ ✩ ✧☽____________

Two hours ago, Mary had been trying to convince Robert to allow her to do the fitting around Robert's waist with a corset, of course, Robert being Robert refused to go through with it many times, until finally, he gave in and that's how he ended up here. Wearing a loose ruffled white shirt and Mary standing behind him, placing the corset around his waist and trying to get Robert to hold still.

"That's.. That's a bit tight, Mrs. Woodhull.." Robert mumbled softly as Mary shook her head with a soft laugh. "It has to be tight, Robert. Otherwise it would just fall right off. Now stop squirming and hold still." Mary replied with a small smile as she continued to tighten the corset around Robert's waist, Robert making sure to stand as still as he possibly could. So still you could mistake him for a wall.

Suddenly, Mary pulled tightly on the strings on the back of the corset, causing Robert to jump ever so slightly and yelp a little. Mary chuckled softly as she shook her head, placing the palm of her hand onto his back to hold him still as she continued to tighten the strings on the corset. "Almost done, Robert. Just a little longer." She hummed with a smile as Robert sighs in relief. Mary smiles and takes a step back for a moment, then walks around and stands in front of Robert, furrowing her brows, stepping closer to him, causing Robert to cock an eyebrow upwards before Mary then began messing around with his shirt and corset, trying to get it the way she wanted it to be.

She then walked back around and placed herself behind him once again, guiding him with his shoulders to move him around some before getting right back to work on the corset once she got him where she wanted him to be. “Abraham and Thomas should be home soon..” She mumbled with a needle in the corner of her mouth as Robert’s eyes widened. He completely forgot about Abraham’s existence. Mary seemed to take notice of Robert’s sudden silence as she chuckled, shaking her head. “You know. You really should smile more, Robert. It lights up the whole room, as Abraham says.” She hummed, tightening the corset once again as Robert gave a gentle sigh.

“I’m not sure what you mean, Mrs. Woodhull.” Mary glances up at Robert’s averting gaze. “First of all, call me Mary. Secondly, Abraham talks about you all the time, Robert. He talks about how handsome and charming you are. How attractive your voice is, and how wonderful you are as a person. He’s like a schoolboy in love.” She smiles with a soft giggle and a shake of the head, her words causing Robert’s cheeks to turn a light shade of red, before he awkwardly clears his throat. “...He talks about me?” Robert inquires as Mary nods. “All the time. He even talks about you to Thomas.” She laughs at this, and so does Robert.

Finally, Mary finishes the corset and she walks all the way around Robert, making any small adjustments that needed to be done. And with a smile, she takes a few steps back, looking at the man in front of her, she smiles proudly and nods. “Well. Take a look, Robert. How do you like it? Does it feel alright?” Robert steps down from the small stool and looks down at himself before walking over to the mirror, tilting his head at the sight of a corset around his waist. “I like it. It looks and feels nice.” Mary then walks over, adjusting the strings a little. “Not too tight? Not too loose?” Robert laughs a little. “It’s just fine. Thank you, Mary.” Mary nods and smiles. “Any time, Robert.”

Suddenly, a door opens and shuts, the sound of footsteps could be heard from the front entrance as Mary smiles, laughing softly as Thomas runs over to Robert and hugs his leg with his small arms, Robert laughing and crouching down, ruffling his hair softly as Thomas giggles loudly. Roberts hair was down instead of it being tied into its usual braid, a few strands of his hair falling in front of his face as he picked Thomas up in his arms and stood up fully, Thomas smiling widely and reaching out to play with Robert’s hair. “Pretty!” Thomas exclaimed happily as Robert laughed, brushing Thomas’ hair out of his face as Mary smiled and shook her head, walking out and into the kitchen, making tea.

Robert then places Thomas down and turns towards where Abraham was standing. Robert wore his hair down, a few strands in his face, high waisted button up black breeches, a white ruffled shirt on his torso being tucked into his pants, a black corset around his waist and tall black boots upon his feet. Around a week ago, Robert had ended up with a bullet to the shoulder while in the woods on his horse, Abraham had ended up finding him slouched down on the ground and bleeding out, Abraham managed to take the bullet out and disinfect the wound the best he could. Needless to say, Robert appeared to be fine now, still in a little bit of pain obviously, but not as bad. You could see the bandage from around his shoulder peeking through his shirt as the top three buttons were undone.

Now that the war had ended, everything was much calmer. Robert was less stressed, but still had a very rough time sleeping, he was able to do what he wanted to do which was writing music, mainly for piano and violin of course, and as well as spend time with his dog, Nelly. However, recently he hasn’t been able to spend as much time as he’d like with Abraham due to him trying to write music sheets down for his boss within a certain amount of time.

[audaciiaearchive]

@honorhearted

"Ah, Major Tallmadge. It's so nice to finally get to meet you, don't you think? After all, I've heard so much about you! How are feeling, hm? I see you got knocked on the head there. You've been out for a couple hours, at least."

Conall leans against a table as he speaks, and he is suspiciously out of uniform for someone so high ranking in His Majesty's army. Instead, he is in something more casual, the sleeves rolled up, his braided hair up and out of his face. It can't mean anything good, especially when it's marked by the grin on his face, nothing but sharp teeth and almost too wide for his face.

"Now, Major...I would hate to ruin that pretty face of yours, so I'm going to give you a chance to tell me the truth. I know you run a spy ring. I know Caleb Brewster is a part of it, and I suspect that Abraham Woodhull is also a part of it, although I have no proof of such a thing. You can confess to me. Now. Of your own volition. Or...I can tear it out of you, and I can promise you that you don't want the latter. So, what shall we do, hm?"

[anoseforrottenapples]

The Aftermath--Mary and Captain Wakefield

@unyieldingvalxr​

Abraham and Ensign Baker are both dead. Mary rolls the words around in her head, still trying to come to terms with them, and with the other secrets she must not disclose… even to the kind Captain who had stumbled upon the scene and hurriedly escorted Thomas and herself to White Hall. Wakefield’s timely intervention saved her from Corporal Eastin and his loathsome companion. She is sure this double murder is tied into Simcoe’s mad plot that saw Richard shot as well. Major Hewlett is already arranging to have Simcoe sent far from Setauket for a court martial, but Simcoe’s stooge Eastin is still free to roam around the village as he pleases. Dear Ensign Baker… that poor man had the uncommon knack of walking into a room at the worst possible time. His fondness for the Woodhull family had stayed his hand for a brief moment though—he was no traitor like Abraham, but he was still a human with a warm heart who hesitated at the thought of depriving a boy of his father, through either arrest or death. In Abraham’s panic, he had not hesitated with his gun, but his shot went wide and splintered into the doorframe. That was when Eastin made his unwelcome appearance, announcing that he had heard everything and was prepared to arrest all three of them. Abraham’s charge would be spying. Mary and Baker were condemned for not reporting him… even poor Baker who learned of the situation mere minutes before Eastin. Protests at the unjust threat quickly turned into shooting… and now the two men she relied upon as protectors are both gone… Eastin had been in the process of suggesting a vile arrangement to silence him regarding Mary’s role in her husband’s espionage when Captain Wakefield arrived. Whatever errand had brought him to the farm at such an hour was quickly forgotten at the sight of the bodies. When Eastin explained that Abraham had been a spy and murdered Ensign Baker, Wakefield accepted the answer and turned his attention to Abraham’s newly minted widow. Mary had been too stunned to offer a rebuttal at the time. It has taken over an hour in White Hall and a pot of tea for her thoughts to settle enough that she can speak about the situation. Wakefield has hovered nearby almost that whole time, except to make reports to Major Hewlett and Richard. While they took some soldiers to the farm to investigate, Wakefield stayed with her. In any other situation, his awkward attempts to help or soothe might have been a touch amusing. Right now, she can only find them oddly endearing.

Finishing her latest cup of tea, she looks up as the captain finally speaks to her. Clearing her throat, hoping her voice will be steady when she speaks, Mary graces the man with a hint of a smile. “Thank you, Captain. The… the only thing that I request is that Corporal Eastin not be permitted to see me at all, either alone or with others. Given… given what happened… I could not stomach an interview with that man right now.” She can still see Eastin leering at her… even Simcoe did not stare at Anna so lasciviously, and the whole village knows about his attraction. To be left with that monster, even for a few minutes, would be far, far too dangerous a suggestion for her to face.

[sharp-teeth-and-archived]

anonymous asked : Lydia: Courageous, kind, even-tempered (for the most part), and an invaluable member to the ring.

Send your muse’s thoughts about mine on anon. -- accepting

        𝐖𝐢𝐭𝐡 𝐟𝐚𝐭𝐢𝐠𝐮𝐞 𝐜𝐫𝐞𝐞𝐩𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐚𝐥𝐨𝐧𝐠 𝐮𝐧𝐝𝐞𝐫 𝐡𝐞𝐫 𝐞𝐲𝐞𝐬, it took a few moments for her to blink the blurriness out of her vision to focus back on the parchment before her. As sleep fatigued as she was, she managed to get through a decoding report this morning, even if she managed to trudge through it at a slower pace than usual. The war never sleeps, and holding true to the expectations that fell over her and the other camp followers, she thought that she was going to spend the rest of her day doing laundry with the promise of supporting the army. With the hard labor, it would have guaranteed her some rest tonight and if she was persistent, it wouldn’t be long until the sun would lower to night time. Then in the cold blanket of nightfall, she could rest her weary form.

        Until the flap of the tent opened and in a rushed tone, a woman had passed along a parchment folded in the resemblance of a bird. A swan, it seemed.

        ❝ Don’t know who wrote this, but I was told it needed to be brought to you immediately. ❞

        The tiredness that had clogged her brain had momentarily dispersed as the daylight punctured through the opening of her tent and a chill ran along her form with the urgency of this letter. However someone managed to fold this into this shape, Lydia wasn’t certain she could figure out how to remake it, so she slowly went through the motions of unfolding it. With its bent edges, she tried to remember the manner it was folded in, but that remembrance was lost on her as her eyes looked over the words. No author and certainly there was no urgency about it. The message was more wholesome than she expected it to be.

        Depending on who you asked, Lydia might fit this description or not at all. Abraham Woodhull might not say these traits are the most notable of Mrs. Barnett, but he would disagree with the idea that she was even-tempered. Her mother, with all of her love and adoration influencing her intense protectiveness of her daughter, would find the claim that Lydia being even-tempered as a contrast to how Lydia was as a child. But Lydia found it to be true, for the most part. She had surely grown more patience and had a better sense of when to hold her tongue than when she was younger. Still, the words felt almost too kind. She didn’t feel as if she  didn’t deserve them, but they felt… out of place. What did she do to owe such a compliment? And why was it seen as an urgency for her to look over it?

        She had a few people in mind: that one woman's chores she took care of when she was sick, Anna, maybe, but Ben seemed the most prominent culprit. Though, she would think he would be less lenient when it came to judging her temper. But in the last few months, there hadn’t been any arguments between them, so perhaps Ben had changed his tune regarding her.  Maybe.

        Regardless, even as she couldn’t figure out how to fold it back to its original shape, she stored it away under her inkwell. She had neatly folded it, even as creases ran across its surface, memorializing its original formation.

[culpeppercheckers721]

I'd love to hear you rant about the closet scene in Private Woodhull. If you'd like to. Heehee

YES, YES YES YES YES THE COAT ROOM SCENE, THE COAT ROOM SHIT 🤡

(Apologies it took me so long to answer this ask, wanted to take my time with it because I fucking LOVE this episode and the Kennedy House Party scene and I have much to say about it 🤪)

Although I regard the draughts scene in the finale as the moment I ACTUALLY started shipping Townhull, I started to notice their subtext earlier in season 4 which is what eventually made me start shipping them, and the point where that subtext became SO OBVIOUS to me was THIS FUCKING EPISODE. 🤡

I could talk all about the heated glares they shoot each other in Rivington’s and the undertones you could pick up from some of their conversation and how hilarious that scene plays if you imagine they ARE in a… ehem, what do people say now, “situationship”? But the real shit is definitely the Kennedy House Party scene, which Rob litERALLY INVITED HIMSELF TO WHEN HE WANTED TO GET ABE ALONE THERE. HELP.

So yes, Abe is already nervous but when Robert walks in you can tell he’s even closer to losing his composure, and the way that whole scene is framed and they stare at each other in surprise, is, as many people have pointed out before me, framed like an actual Romeo & Juliet knock-off. Quite literally. And after all of those meaningful stares, and the sheer MANNER in which Robert looks at Abe as he walks by and then talks to Arnold instead (and it is hard to see unless you zoom in but you can just barely see a very tiny Rob in the background of that shot as Abe approaches him because HE DID NOT STOP LOOKING AT HIM), it’s implied that as they’re both putting on a mask, a performance for all the redcoats and loyalists around them as they try so hard to appear “normal” once again, Robert is basically keeping an eye on Abe the entire evening before he actually appears again after the coat room debacle but let me get into that specifically!! That scene:

So of course, as we all know, it’s actually Cicero who wrote the “cloak room” note (so tempted to make the Stranger Things joke I did on my first watch like “MEET ME. BATHROOM. STEVE.”) so we don’t get a scene of them both in a dark enclosed space sadly. (Who else was half convinced they were gonna make out in the coat closet lmaooo.) But, on your first viewing, the AUDIENCE is definitely under the impression (as is Abe) that Townsend is the one who wrote the note, and is trying to have a private word with him in the coat room, and if that doesn’t read like implications of a liaison I don’t know WHAT does.

And you’re right, I didn’t even think of that, but it is really wild that the audience was led to believe they were going to meet in a CLOSET. HELLO. (And even if it’s not a traditional coat closet because the only actual use we see it get is as a “restroom”, I would still call it one.) God I wish they had in fact ended up in there after his talk with Cicero ahahah. 🤭

[But at least we have fan-fiction for that 😌]

But anyhow, after Abraham opens the coat closet, already bickering with Robert (“do you really think this is the place—”) before he realizes it’s Cicero, the immediate moment he walks back out, Townsend is already staring at him and instantly seizing his attention as he advances on him, so much so to the point where it almost looked like they were about to bump into each other before the two of them stop themselves.

And as Townsend is acting more assertive as he so often does with Abe, you can easily interpret double-meanings from some of their ensuing dialogue (“didn’t stay in New York to sit still,” “tonight, outside the coffeehouse,” etc etc, it is all very easy to take out of context if you ask me), and I also noticed it really looks like Abraham glances down at his lips or something as they’re talking? Like his eyes go down but he doesn’t seem to be facing the floor, he’s looking higher than that…?

Just food for thought, and after some more very heated stares and their talk in the hallway, again I think they laid the subtext on THICK in this scene.

Even the way it’s shot, which is significant in many of their scenes— it’s implied they’re in a hallway where they can be overhead, and yet they look so physically close to each other, and the space looks so small and enclosed as Robert properly glares at him. I don’t think it’s subtle.

The meaningful looks & typical glaring, just that way they look at each other, the implication that they could have met in a literal closet after all, how it’s all framed, the simple fact that they’re both putting on an act until they’re alone with each other… It’s something to contemplate.

What might be perceived as an incidental stare means a lot more when viewed with the history of their relationship, and with how very much tension and chemistry I’d say is woven into all of their interactions. The undertones are THERE.

I ultimately believe that, as much as so many of their scenes are laced with double-meanings, this one is particularly special as it really caught my attention the first time I saw it, and makes me think it was no accident that these two behave the way they do together. Overdramatic as it sounds, I think there is, truly, an inherent homoeroticism to the way they’re framed and portrayed in scenes like this, and how contrasting yet endlessly similar they are. There’s something so beautiful about it. Fucken love them. I may cry.

As per usual, this is not as eloquent as my language can potentially get, but I find this scene so amusing and I was so excited to do this ask that I can’t be scholarly about this right now. 😂

I usually don’t say this, but I really appreciate anyone else interested sharing this around since I spent way more time on it than was necessary. ;D

Thanks for reading! 🍂🫡

[enchi-elm]

Caleb and Ben bought land!

I have found the source!

"Loyalism in New York during the American Revolution", found (where else) on Archive.org, a website I will be donating my entire first paycheck to when I find employment again for saving my ass at least a dozen times this year and that is not an exaggerated number. (https://archive.org/details/loyalisminnewyor00flic/page/252/mode/2up)

Page 251-252:

The entry notes that the Loyalist owner of the land, Richard Floyd, disposessed of his land by attainder, had his land sold to "Benj. Talmage and Caleb Brewster" for 730 pounds, covering The Middle of the Island Farm in Brookhaven township, 4 1/3 lors, about 320 acres, "reserving to William Floyd, Esq., and to his heirs and assigns one lot and one-half lot of the above described lands claimed by him as his property." The land was bordered in the north by William Clark, east by William Smith, south by John Homan, and west by the Connecticut River.

Parker Wickham, also under attainder, had his land sold for 1250 pounds to Ben and Caleb. It was a "tract in Southold township known as Robin's Island, about 350 acres. No definite boundary given."

(5K, domesticity, bittersweet ending, but hey that's just where my mind goes.)

There's more, though. With some... familiar names.

We've got a listing for a Joseph Brewster of Brook Haven Township, buying land bordered by a Benjamin Floyd. I cannot for the life of me find a Joseph in Caleb's known family tree but maybe I'm using incomplete information.

(EDIT: FOUND HIM! And you'll never guess where. You know Abraham Woodhull, the Abraham Woodhull, well he had a daughter, Elizabeth, who married an Isaac Brewster, who is the son of a Joseph Brewster from Setauket. If this is the same Joseph, he's Abe's daughter's in-laws. They're parent-in-laws. What the-- Oh, and is this Joseph a direct relation to Caleb Brewster? I honestly don't know, WikiTree is so unhelpful in mapping out these families.)

Benjamin Floyd himself is buying land that's bordered in the east by a Nathaniel Woodhull -- land that was Richard Floyd's, taken by attainder. Is this Woodhull a relation to Abe? No idea. Is Benjamin Floyd a relation to Richard Floyd? Could a family member buy land that had been taken by attainder?

And then we've got Caleb Brewster himself throwing in lots, literally, with the same Benjamin Floyd, buying four lots in Nocamock.

(Benjamin Tallmadge, you may remember, married a Mary Floyd, though I can't find evidence of a Benjamin in her family).

Ooooh I wanna know, I wanna know so bad. What was going on here? How did they all know each other? And did they?

[honorhearted]

“ why you gotta cause me so much trouble … ?? (Abe)

@faithhearted

Benjamin's smile was bright and smug, his hands coming forward to take his winnings from across the small table. "I don't know what you mean," he replied, feigning innocence. "I believe it was your idea to bet money, and it was your idea to take me here in the first place."

Alongside him, Caleb gave a mocking gasp. "Oi, what's this then? Woody? Makin' a bad decision? Well, stop the presses, 'cause this here'll surely make the headlines!" Playfully reaching over and jostling Abraham's shoulder, he added, "If you're so beside yourself, why don'tcha deal this time, hmm?" He grinned and elbowed his friend. "The more ya cry, the less you'll piss, amirite?"

Benjamin met Abraham's gaze across the table and smiled, offering a conciliatory shrug. "We could stop," he agreed. "Heaven forbid Judge Woodhull cut off your 'wenching funds.'"

Caleb snorted. "What wenchin'? His right arm's about as buff as yours, Tallboy...if y'get my meanin'."

With a none-too-gentle jab to his arm, Benjamin felt a modicum of satisfaction once the whaler jerked back, cursing under his breath.

"C.hrist, Almighty! Well, I guess now I understand why you're enlistin'," he grumbled.

To Abraham, Benjamin added, "Are you dealing or not? Or should we play quoits or nine-pins instead?"

"I dunno," Caleb drawled. "Those require dexterity. Abe's only dexterous at--"

"We know, we know: boxing the Jesuit," Benjamin finished for him, rolling his eyes. "It's a miracle we're friends, Brewster. Your mind's about as one track as a couple of canoodling rabbits. Is this truly how we're to spend my last night in town?"

[annastrxng]

@anoseforrottenapples TROUBLE AT THE TAVERN (preplotted DRAMA)

A darkened HAZE still HANGS indecisively the air and the STENCH of SMOLDERING ruin ruminates in every particle of the air. For a moment, Anna casts her gaze to the hill where Whitehall once stood. In the place of the stately manor, stood a few awkwardly sprouted charred wooden beams. It's ALL gone.

A place that memory held so dear and precious was reduced to a HEAP of ash. With a heavy heart, the brunette swallows down the urge to SOB.

Robeson, who had heard from his wife, who related the tale from Mary Woodhull, insisted that the REBELS burned the Magistrate's house. Some sort of retribution or other. But for what? Anna's keen mind can NOT decipher. Perhaps, when she saw Abraham again, she could MAKE her inquiries. Or if she saw Caleb, she could demand of him an explanation. One way or another, she FELT the need for clarity.

The SHOCK hadn't even worn off yet, when DeJong seizes her by the elbow and instructs her to make four rooms ready. It would seem the Magistrate, Abraham, Mary, Sprout, and Major Hewlett would be FORCED to stay for some time. Worrying her lip betwixt her teeth, she tried to determine which unlucky SOLDIERS would be forced to room together in order to make a more hospitable place for ostentatious company.

Quavering, raw hands clench into her skirts. THIS ARRANGEMENT, she knew, was only beginning to BREW discord. Something she needed FAR less of. Conducting her operations as a SPY was hard enough with them LIVING in WHITEHALL. Moving them all here---Making them all Anna's charges --- It was gifting her a throbbing temple.

It takes her a few hours, and a few hasty quarrels, but all four requested rooms were eventually prepared. Taking the flight of stairs through the kitchen, she walks Mary and Richard to their respective rooms. "I'm so sorry about all of this. If-- if there be anything I could do to ensure that your stay is pleasant---"

Richard hastily cuts her off. "IF I FIND OUT THAT YOU HAD ANYTHING TO DO WITH THIS, I WILL SEE YOU HANGED. THE WAY YOUR FATHER SHOULD HAVE BEEN."

Oh, how Richard needles her when he is in the mood to berate and bruise. She flinches at the venom of his pointed words. Tired eyes dolefully flicker up to meet his. "I can't imagine," she starts swallowing breathlessly, "this has been easy for any of you--" She counters, trying to appease. "Will you require Cicero to take you and the Major into town for ---for clothes? I can have him ready in the morning." He gruffly brushes past her as if, she no longer existed.

Turning to her cousin, Mary, Anna huffs out a breath. "Since the attainder, I haven't much to spare but I have a few dresses that should be found suitable. I even left a blanket for Sprout." Swallowing, she adds, "I know you will likely wish for your own-- but please, take them. After all you've lost, I can not help but feel--" She pauses. "Welll--" she clears her throat, attempting to absolve any guilt she may inadvertently confess to. "Here is your room. Mine is---across the hall, should you NEED anything.

"Can-- can I get you something to eat or drink?" Anna asks, pressing her back to the door.

[faithhearted]

“You may have consigned yourself to it, but you never would have initiated it!” she volleyed, “Even I can see that isn’t the sort of man you are, Major. You are not one to purloin the wife of someone you care for so deeply!”

Mary used to believe the same about herself, that she would never have stepped outside of her marriage to Abraham, no matter how he’d hurt her. Despite not being one for pity, in her piety and self righteousness, she felt safe – but now, now she’d given that up – all for a chance at affection from a man who loved Abe just as much as she had. Good God, what had she done?

"Because of us both," Benjamin corrected hoarsely, "Mrs. Woodhull, this sin is just as much mine as it is your own -- if it were not enjoyable, then perhaps I would not feel such guilt about it. Perhaps your husband, my best and dearest friend, would still be alive, had God not sought to punish us both." 

Whoever was at fault, the punishment had been too high a price to pay. But there was no turning back now. Abe was gone and it couldn’t be undone. 

“Think what you will of me, Major. I may have strayed in a moment of weakness, but I never wanted for Abe to be hurt for my transgressions. I cared deeply for him and prayed nightly that someday he might feel the same…” 

Had he lived, however, she highly doubted it would ever come to pass. Anna had already claimed his heart long ago.

"If we truly wish to atone, then we should keep our distance…”

“Major, no.”

"Because the very idea devastates me, wounds me,” he continued, “I know that never sharing one another's company will serve as proper penance."

“And do you truly think that’s what Abraham would want?” she countered, closing the gap between them in desperation, not so much for herself, but for her son, “If you want to atone for this, sir, then marry me. Care for me and be a father to Thomas. My husband would trust you above all others to do so.”

It was a ludicrous situation, but what choice did Mary have? She had to find a way for her son to be taken care of. For Thomas, she told herself. This had to be for Thomas.

She gazed up at him urgently and shook her head as she dared him, “Tell me I’m wrong.”

“Major, what am I to do?”

The helplessness in her tone made Benjamin wince, rolling his lips inward, shaking his head in answer. "I don't know," he whispered. He didn't -- he didn't -- because when it was all said and done, the only viable option for Mary was to pursue marriage with another man...and yet the thought of some newcomer, some stranger raising Thomas made his insides fold in on themselves. More disconcerting still, Benjamin realized that he wished to have a hand in the boy's upbringing. He'd grown to love Thomas like a son, and nothing, not even all the weapons in this hellish war, could keep him from reaching such an overwhelming conclusion.

“We?" Mary jerked away from him then, startling Benjamin into the present. "Tallmadge, I’m his wife…and I’m the one who…who kissed you, who elicited the infidelity."

"And I'm his best friend," Benjamin countered, viciously jabbing his hand against his chest. "Do you truly think I just stood there, innocent and without any complicity to your actions? Madam, I was all but ready to take you in my arms, and...!" Catching himself, his cheeks blazed pink and he gritted his teeth, unwilling to put words to such a confession.

"It is not ‘we’ who are at fault, but me," Mary continued, "and the worst part of it all is that…that…”

She trailed off then, and her soft sobs stabbed through Benjamin's heart like an awl, each weepy inhalation ticking down over his ribs akin to a blade.

"My son is without his father...because of me..."

"Because of us both," he countered, his throat raw. "Mrs. Woodhull, this sin is just as much mine as it is your own -- if it were not enjoyable, then perhaps I would not feel such guilt about it. Perhaps your husband, my best and dearest friend, would still be alive, had God not sought to punish us both." Chin wobbling, Benjamin punched his fist into his cupped hand, frustration lighting up his mournful features. "If we truly wish to atone, then we should keep our distance... I'll find a new tutor for Thomas, and you...I-I can find you a potential group of wives who can serve as suitable friends, and each with children around Thomas' age." His eyes grew glassy within the early morning light. "Because the very idea devastates me, wounds me, I know that never sharing one another's company will serve as proper penance."

[audaciiaearchive]

" you have to believe me, i didn’t do this! " abe & conall (or robert).

Dire situations || Accepting

"Mhm, of course not. You haven't spied, you haven't lied, you haven't done anything of the sort, have you? Oh no, of course not, because Abraham Woodhull is from a family loyal to the king, so what would you have to gain from losing it all by being a spy? You have a family, a reputation, blah blah blah...did I get it all in? Everything that you're going to say to me? I've heard it all before, Abraham. There's no sense in trying to convince me of something I already know isn't true."

As Conall speaks, he wipes his hands on his pants, staining them with Abe's blood. He looks horrific, blood all over his clothes, his hands up to his elbows, his face from where he's been rubbing it. It's even in his hair, despite him pulling it up. It doesn't seem to bother him, though, and he clicks his tongue, tilting Abe's chin up with the knife.

"I have to wonder how long you'll keep this up. I can't let you die, after all. I have to get a confession from you first. I'll take anything, really. A confession, a name of your contact in New York, whatever you have. It doesn't matter to me." He moves the knife, then, pressing it against Abe's throat. "Now sing for me, Culper. I'm waiting."