#Bessie Learn

[perfettamentechic]

5 febbraio … ricordiamo …

5 febbraio … ricordiamo … #semprevivineiricordi #nomidaricordare #personaggiimportanti #perfettamentechic

2022: Mavie Bardanzellu, pseudonimo di Maria Vittoria Bardanzellu, attrice e danzatrice italiana. Bardanzellu iniziò la carriera artistica con la danza, diplomandosi prima ballerina all’Accademia di danza classica di Torino. Trasferitasi a Roma, frequentò lo Studio Fersen di Arti Sceniche. Nel 1962 fu notata dal regista Piero Livi, che le affidò il ruolo di protagonista femminile in Una storia…

[crinolinedream]

I literally just found out Prudence Featherington’s real life parents are Carson & Dolores Umbridge.

[unityrain24]

why is there so much kelpie erasure on this sight. it's all "merfolk this" and "selkie that." what about the kelpies.

[emilythedog661]

Time to learn is a dumb episode

So if you've watched time to learn, you know the reason why robbie went to school is because the villian comic he read told him that 'he was number 10 on the list is because he didn't go to school and have a education'

the problem with this is...number one on the list is...

a chihuahua!

and if you don't know, dogs don't go to school! they can go to training school to learn tricks and have behavioural lessons to get use to things like other dogs, children, cars and others but they can't do math, science, they can't speak english and they don't even have hands!

this is like saying sportacus is the 10th best singer in the world but number one is a alpaca!

so yeah, time to learn is a dumb episode but it's still a funny episode 😄

[big-boah-2]

"No cheatin' now."

"It's kind of hard to cheat at dominoes, Arthur."

"You can cheat at anything."

"That might be the nicest thing anyone's ever said to me."

[dontworryitsjustafirstdraft]

Pls I need some thoughts about this, so to my 6 followers and anyone else this posts reaches, gimme some advice or opinions! Here it goes:

I want to be a tutor (for the most part, I think). Originally I wanted to ‘grow up’ to work as a history professor at a community college and work in an art museum or two as well. However, life doesn’t always like to follow well-thought-out plans of any sort, and life can also be very mean, so I never got to go to university to get a bachelors degree, let alone a masters (which I actually needed the most). And we aren’t going to talk about me informally dropping out of photography schooling 🙃

So my worry is this: I’ve been out of school for so long, I’m extremely worried about being up to date with what is being taught, let alone just being smart enough. I love learning. I love learning so much that I wanted it to be my job to help people learn. I love the fact that there is ALWAYS something new to learn. I love that knowledge is a good power to have and wield, that there’s never any excuse not to learn, and that everyone deserves the ability to learn and have access to proper tools to excel in their learnings. BUT (there’s always a but). I have not had the best education. To be completely frank, grade school has done me such an extreme disservice, and while this is not a slight to all community colleges, mine did not have a consistent basis in my learnings. I look back, and I’m incredibly sad with my schooling experiences. And with that said, I’m very scared of going into this and have the possibility of failing the students I would be tutoring with my subpar abilities.

But, would it still be worth it? Is it possible to spend most of this year reteaching myself the things I was taught years ago, along with the many many MANY things I am lacking in, and then pursuing becoming a tutor? Please know I am such an anti-work person and wish capitalism would suddenly stop existing-but if I’m forced to work for 90% of my life, is it wrong to want to do it with something I love? Something I’m passionate about? Something that feels fulfilling to me? Is it wrong to want to put my degree ‘to use’?

Does it seem worth it? How would I go about it? Where do I even start? Should I treat it as a business?

Again, the fear and apprehension is (mostly) not the job itself, but rather in my abilities to do the job. I’d love if teachers, tutors, students, etc. would comment with their experiences/thoughts/opinions! Thank you all in advance, especially if you read it this far!

TL/DR; I want to be a tutor, but essentially have a terrible education, but love learning and teaching. I want to know is it worth pursuing, if (prior to tutoring) I put in the effort to be current with the topic I’m interested in tutoring with. Experiences/thoughts/opinions wanted. Ty!

[vickyvicarious]

Bessy feels a lot more honest and unfiltered than Margaret is used to, both in general and specifically with regards to her views on religion. And I think her obvious genuine feeling (and the condition of her illness) makes it hard for her to be dismissive of her exactly (I mean - she does do that, sort of, but in a clearly uncomfortable way which suggests she herself can't just ignore it as nothing), but it's still kind of hard to know how to react to, maybe? Like, before that Father in Heaven line, Bessy is raging against her doubt and the injustice that she has suffered, and which clearly has led her to think and feel very deeply about her faith and what she believes. Margaret hasn't had these experiences. And Bessy means so well and it's hard to just write off her pain, her death, and her interpretation of religion. But they aren't the kinds of things Margaret has had to consider or heard spoken about so openly and emotionally, and it's difficult for her.

I find it interesting in chapter 13 how Margaret - whose faith, barring one lapse, is strong - is still uncomfortable with how Bessy speaks about her faith and particularly about Heaven. Her responses are very simple compared with Bessy's passion ("we have a Father in Heaven") and as soon as she can, she changes the subject altogether ("I would rather hear something about what you used to do when you were well").

Partly it's that she's uncomfortable with discussion of Bessy's death, but there's also a contrast between Bessy's open, passionate, literalist belief and Margaret's much quieter faith. I get the impression that Margaret isn't used to people speaking like Bessy does.

[nerevarbignaturals]

Every new year as an adult really is just "Oh, nice! Made it another year-FUCK I HAVE TO DO MY TAXES AGAIN"

[sophies-junkyard]

Truly the funniest thing about puppet history is that it’s still educational. I DID learn what defenestration is! I learned all about Bessie Coleman and Victorian medicine and the Trung sisters! I also watched a grown man passionately fist fight a puppet being worn by his friend. It’s about balance.

[heavenlymorals]

This started out as a list for me for fanfiction purposes, but then I decided I should just post it cuz why the hell not?

These are my observations for what religions some RDR characters may follow. These assumptions are going to be based off cultural details and dialogue.

Again, they're only assumptions, so I'm very much aware that they can be wrong.

Dutch: Dutch is really interesting in the sense that he believes in a higher power. The three main components of Romantacism were the relationship between man and man, man and nature, and man and god. Dutch is a romantic. He also has many lines where he talks about heaven, with one being: "Be a man who knows that there is a heaven above or scurry off like some god forsaken monkeys." We know Dutch isn't Catholic considering his negative views towards Catholicism ("Here we are in this strange land of Papists and rapists."), so he is most likely from some sort of protestant background who then rejected it for the romantic tradition as many of the newspapers in RDR1 would say things about Dutch not getting saved. John says the same thing. Dutch is a diest but not a Christian.

Hosea: Hosea is some sort of protestant Christian and we get this through cultural background and dialogue. We learn that when he was younger, he wanted to be a priest but let go of that because he needed to be Catholic. America was and still is a majority protestant nation but even moreso back then. We also hear him talk about heaven and hell a couple of times, lamenting about how when he does, he won't see Bessie because she'll be in heaven. He is angry at his faith, yes, with the line of "And we're supposed to believe in judgement" when ranting about Bessie's death, but then apologizes, admitting that he can't understand it, not that he doesn't believe.

Arthur is agnostic, but he's open to the idea of faith. In one of this journal entries, he says something about whether he can achieve salvation or heaven or whether that's all fairy tales, as he's not sure what to believe when he dies, even though to the nun, he says he doesn't believe in anything. Arthur also seems to have a distaste for the church as an organization, evidenced by his dialogue with the grave digger debtor, but he seems to like religious people, or at the very least he is open to them. He never knocks down Brother Dorkins and he feels at peace when he speaks to the nun in their final meeting at the train station. Very interesting that he feels better after he talks to the nun, a character who is supposed to embody positive religion and what it can do for people.

John is a non practicing Christian, which makes sense considering his background and the work he has to put in to keep his family safe. It keeps him from actively practicing. Though he's a realist and isn't practically concerned about religion in his everyday life, shown by his father dismissive attitude towards religious people in the game, God is still an active force in his life. Throughout the story, John has lines about God as an active force in his life. When he marries Abigail, he says he wants to marry her "in front of God." A preacher authenticates the wedding. John owns a Bible in his house, makes references about Dutch not getting saved, and talks to Jack about the possibility of redemption as something the "good book" says, despite not reading it with him.

Abigail seems to also be a more practicing Christian, given that she does ask Jack a couple of times throughout the story to read verses for her, but beyond that, I feel like she is also pretty lukewarm in regards to her faith, but she is still a Christian.

Sean and Javier are all most likely cultural Catholics. Sean is an Irish man and is proud of his Irish heritage, which also includes Irish Catholicism and he mentions being a child of God a couple times throughout background dialogue. Javier is a Mexican man and Mexico is very Catholic and though he doesn't really speak of it, he has done the symbol of the cross in game, so it's likely that he still holds some religious thoughts.

Molly is most likely an Irish Protestant due to her conflicts with Sean as well as her family's connections with the English.

Charles is tricky because we know that despite being proud of his native heritage, he is still very much displaced from his culture. What this means is that while he might follow native religion, it equally as likely that he follows some sort of protestantism because of his lack of time with his tribe, forced assimilation, and his relationship with his black father, who would culturally most likely be a Christian. There are really no clues or hints about Charles' beliefs besides his cultural backgrounds so take that as you will.

Micah is a reddit atheist. He doesn't believe in divinity at all and he uses that to shape his worldview as well. No such thing as heaven and hell, only winners and losers. He bullies Swanson a lot for his faith and constantly belittles the idea of religion.

Karen, Tilly, Marybeth, Grimshaw, Pearson, Lenny, Leopald, Josiah, and Kieran don't really have any clues as to what they personally believe. The only idea that we have is the setting that they lived in and the culture that they frequented which makes it most likely that they are some sort of Christian, but what denomination? Don't know.

Sadie is a Christian, but most likely non practicing. We have multiple lines with her referencing God as an active force. "Everyone's got to choose who they're loyal to. God, the state, themselves. If a bounty hunter wants to last, his loyalty has got to be with the one issuing the bounty, plain and simple." "Guess he began to believe he was God or something."

Uncle is nonreligious, most likely agnostic due to his very lax tone in regards to faith, which is also evidenced by his rather wild lifestyle in multiple stories of his. "Do you believe in reincarnation?" "I hope and pray to whatever is out there-" "It's like rooming with the King James Bible."

Swanson is a protestant. Need I say more?

I'll post more later if I feel like it 🫶🏼

[mokifish]

Bessières ^_^

Bessie & Lannes! (+ Masséna)

Drawing Bessie 5 times (and a mf horse) genuinely made me want to throw myself off a cliff ☺️. Anyways, I just wanted to experiment with the colors and composition of this piece. I think I’m finally learning how to actually draw these military uniforms ��.

Also, I got this napoleonic book from Half Price books and it has a lot of good uniform references. I’ll probably do some sketches of them and post it later lol.

[cloveroctobers]

GRANDMA’S HOUSE — ARMANDO ARETAS x BLACK! READER [Summer Randoms]

A/N: this was honestly inspired by typical family functions + a vid I saw on Instagram (possibly belonging to Tiktok) where we all have that universal experience where we spend the night at grandma’s lol.

SYNOPSIS: your grandmother’s always been in your business, you had a good job? Great! That job got on your nerves? Just be thankful that you have a job when there’s plenty that can’t even find one. You finally moved out of your parent’s house? Good for you, it’s about damn time. Now when you upgraded even more, hearing that you have finally got yourself a boyfriend after being single for only the lord knows how long…she opens up her home for you and Armando to crash instead of spending money (you both had it) out of the kindness of her heart—mostly.

<- read my previous anthology piece here.

⋅˚₊‧ ଳ ‧₊˚ ⋅ ⋅˚₊‧ ଳ ‧₊˚ ⋅ ⋅˚₊‧ ଳ ‧₊˚ ⋅ ⋅˚₊‧ ଳ ‧₊˚ ⋅ ⋅˚₊‧ ଳ ‧₊˚ ⋅

Your grandmother smelled like fresh baked cookies with a hint of peppermint, Armando thinks as the smaller woman embraces him at the front door. The ranch styled house is more fitting than the coastal one she offered you two to stay in last summer out in The Hamptons. From what Armando’s learned about the elderly woman is that she may have the sweetest face but her lip was more deadly than anything. He would have never guessed that Granny Bessie would ever want to be bothered with the folks out there but it was evident that she held her own.

He shouldn’t have suspected anything less.

“Oh you’re so handsome,” Granny Bessie pats Armando’s cheek before staring up at his hair, “You got Indian in you? Looking like you got that Arabian grade of hair.”

Armando casted a glance at you who deeply sighed at the slight ignorance in the entry way of the home. He kept a smile on his face, finding this humorous more than anything, “No, ma’am. I’m Hispanic: Mexican…and black. I used to get Guyanese all the time though.”

The woman nods in agreement as she waves him into the home, “I thought your daddy was coming too?”

Armando inhaled at the mention of the man, who your granny had no issue inviting to her home as well for the upcoming festivities, “Detective Lowrey’s flight got delayed, probably won’t be here until early morning.”

The woman raised a brow at Armando as she closes the door behind him, “You call your father by his profession?”

“Well he hasn’t been much of a father so, yeah.”

“Hold on now, that’s still your blood—

“Granny! How’s the garden been treating you?”

“Oh, It’s flourishin’, baby.” She grins as you slip an arm across her shoulders and sent an apologetic look at your boyfriend, “your cousin Saleema and I went out to the Lowe’s and picked up a bunch of flowers. She helped me plant half of them but I know you’ll help me do the rest.”

She had a whole lot planned it seemed, considering you two came up for a couple of days for the upcoming family reunion at her house. You honestly thought about not attending, since you didn’t feel like socializing with half of your father’s side (1. they were either in your business to make sure you weren’t doing better than them—it wasn’t a competition in the first place but apparently it was in their eyes, 2. acted like they didn’t know you and expected you to roll out the red carpet for them—meaning if you didn’t speak to them first then that automatically became a problem, or 3. simply weren’t wrapped too tight in the head) but pushed through it since your granny got sensitive about not seeing her grand babies as often now that you were all adults.

Armando chuckled to himself at that, you knew your granny would bring this up since your cousin wouldn’t stop boasting about their outing in the: first cousins group chat. Saleema was older, just touched forty and was single living in her condo with her funny looking cat. She was always your granny’s favorite—perhaps it had to do with her being the first grandchild since your aunt had her young—although Saleema was a true hell raiser throughout her teenage and college years apparently, she hardly got shit on out of the grandchildren and it showed.

“Sure thing…anything you want me to help with on the inside first? You know I’m not built for this type of heat.” You whistled, fanning at the back of your neck after swiping some of the braids to your boho Bob to the side.

Granny Bessie scoffs, “stop that lyin’ baby, you chose to live out there with them gators and those strange Florida folks so you have to be built for some of it.”

Armando laughs as he follows you two into the living room, spotting old photos of: Granny Bessie during her bowling tournaments with her voluminous hair, various of family members, and childhood photos of yourself and many more cousins from previous family reunions.

“Oh you should see her Granny.” Armando speaks up after putting a picture back above the piano, “I think she got bougie on you, she even walks outside with umbrellas.”

Not this man snitching on you?

Granny side eyes you, hand still latched on your waist, “…you not one of them demonic people now are you?”

Now it was your turn to send a dark stare to Armando, who bit down on his bottom lip trying to hide his laughter. He knew what he had started, knowing that your grandmother was religious and always had something to say about other aesthetics? The goths and the emos received no love from Granny Bessie.

“No, grandma!”

You only ever called her by that to show that you were serious.

“Good,” she states with a pat to your hip before adding, “you haven’t contracted high blood pressure yet have you? I just knew it would hit you like it hit your father and me.”

Shaking your head you reply, “Nope, still dealing with low blood pressure actually.”

“That’s why I told you to up your vitamins and eat better foods. Good thing you’re here with me for a few days, I’ll send you on your way brand new,” she dusts her hands off with a clap, “your doctor will be thanking me.”

“As he should, granny Bessie knows all!” You rested your head against the shorter woman.

“Damn straight, now y’all come on in here and get you something to eat.” The elderly woman with the Mother Nature braids waves you two along.

Armando starts to squeeze his way by at the news of eating, hands rubbing together in excitement as his stomach rumbled before he steps to the side to continue letting you two go ahead.

“…ah a gentleman! I think I like him so far.” Granny Bessie whispers up at you, carrying into the kitchen.

It was 7pm by the time Granny Bessie was packing it up and getting ready for bed. She made the arrangements, sticking Armando in the back room while it left herself and you on opposite sides of the home. She of course let the home be open to you two but you knew not to stay up too late since the woman liked to be up early and active. Granny Bessie was in her seventies and still moved quickly even when her Arthritis was acting up. Everyone told her to slow down but granny Bessie has proven that she was always going to what she damn well wanted to.

Which definitely stood when she sent her last warning to you two of where you two would be sleeping for the night.

The both of you stood at the entry way of the ranch home, lips attached and battling each others as Armando swung you towards the wall, hand going to your waist then down the side of your ass to hook your leg over his hip.

“You said Granny Bessie was a snorer didn’t you?” Armando breathed against your neck.

You nod as you lick your lips, “yeah but she’s still a light sleeper and I’m not in the mood to get cussed out when we get caught.”

“When?” Armando quirked up his brows to look up at you, “All you have to do is keep quiet, mami.”

“And you think you’re going to help me do that?” You question while Armando thinks about it, “Yeah no.”

You pecked his lips while running your fingers over his facial hair, “just call me on FaceTime if the night gets too bad.”

For as long as you’ve been dating Armando, you weren’t completely oblivious. You knew that he didn’t adapt well to new spaces and it only got worse at night. The nightmares kept him up and anxiety was a bitch, he was trying to get through it on his own and even tried to hide it from you plenty of times before he moved in but there wouldn’t be any secrets in your relationship.

And you wouldn’t disrespect your granny’s home—never did and never will.

“Alright,” Armando sighed as he kissed your forehead, “better keep your phone charged, we both know how you are.”

You scowl as he pushes the creaking door back that led down the narrow hallway, “that was only a few times and I had valid reasons.”

“Uh huh,” Armando holds his hand out back for you to interlock your fingers before stopping in the middle of the hallway, “…goodnight baby.”

“Sleep tight, don’t let the dolls bite.”

Armando halts at kissing the back of your hand as he steps towards you, head dipped as he quizzes with a soft whisper, “…what fucken dolls?”

You’re trying to silence your cackling at the deadpan angle of Armando’s face on your phone screen as you settle into bed. There’s no cable in this room so you’re stuck leaving the tv on some court show that’ll help you fall asleep. It only took maybe a minute or two for Armando to start calling you, you on your side and arms tucked underneath the comfy blankets that made you feel like you were back in your childhood.

Granny Bessie had all sorts of trinkets decorating the dresser drawer by the side of the door and you had to remind yourself that if you needed to get up during the night to not stub your toe.

“It’s not that bad is it?” You ask while Armando just simply blinks at you, which said enough.

Eventually you’re the one that falls asleep on Armando although you promise that you wouldn’t. He knew that was a lost cause after you decided to shut the tv off, welcoming the pitch black and snuggle deeper into the sheets without him. You were closer to the opposite end of the hallway with your granny right across the hall but her bed sat deep in her own room yet that didn’t stop you from hearing her lawn mowing snores. You even popped an earphone in one ear to drawn out the noise and just enjoyed the company of your man on charge.

He ends up falling asleep after you but it takes him much longer, browsing social media, checking up on his side business, ignoring a text from Marcus, and simply sending a thumbs up to Mike’s text that he was finally boarding. Armando managed to keep himself busy, fighting the urge to snatch up all the weird looking dolls, rip their heads off and shove them in the closet.

He guessed this was a thing with Grandma’s having obsessions with odd items?

He makes sure his own phone in on charge, bringing it back to the FaceTime call of your closed eyes before completely covering his head underneath the covers then dozed off himself.

That doesn’t last long being woken up out of his sleep. There’s a loud booming noise in the distance and he’s tempted to find his piece just to make sure no one was breaking in. Granny Bessie had an alarm system and that didn’t seem to be going off but that didn’t stop Armando from sitting up in bed. He looks at the dolls and it suddenly feels as if their soulless eyes are still watching him.

He tossed the covers back, feet on the carpet, eyes finding a random blue light that he couldn’t find the source of as he passed by the edge of the bed. This room was suffocating and he feels like he’s been sweating underneath the sheets. The house was cool before the both of you went to bed and now it felt like being inside of a sauna.

Armando pulls the door back, peeking out into the abyss of a hallway and he just hopes there’s no one else in the house but you three. Leaving the door open a crack he moves back into the bedroom to grab his phone to use the flashlight since he can’t remember where exactly the hallway light is.

The floor creaks underneath his feet as he moves from the back of the house. As he gets to the middle of the hallway, he picks up on Granny Bessie’s snoring and stops at your room. His fingers rack against the door and he gets no response so he moves forth with twisting the door knob. Your back is to the door now, phone abandoned on the floor but still charging.

He picks it up for you and steps back out.

Armando lets you sleep, heading towards the front of the house. He’s in the entry way and the home feels much bigger in the dark, more eerie but knows he’ll find comfort in the dining room or kitchen—where the snacks are.

It’s 3 in the morning when you get the violent urge to use the bathroom. You try to fight it but the pressure in your belly isn’t pleasant so you throw the covers back in annoyance. It was your own fault chugging that ice cold water before you started making out with Armando but you didn’t need to acknowledge that. Shoving your fuzzy socks on, you pull the door open and head out into the dark hallway. Eyes half lidded as you use the wall for guidance to the bathroom, your head turns to the left to see the hallway door is left open just a crack but you carry into the bathroom.

Leaning against the door after doing your business, you feel a pull to head out into the main areas of the home. You see a light from the right of the dining room and walk through the sitting room towards it. Turning to the right you spot Armando immediately, snacking as you plop down beside him in another chair.

Balling your arms up on the table, you rest your head against them as you ask, “Can’t sleep?”

“You didn’t hear that big ass noise?” He says around the dried fruit he’s chewing on, “Sounded like a whole bomb.”

You hum, “yeah we’re near the military base…I thought I mentioned that.”

“No. You didn’t.”

“My grandad was a vet. They moved here in the early 2000’s, it’s a whole community.” You yawn.

Armando shakes his head, “that sounds like nothing but triggers. I don’t know if that’s worst or the creepy ass dolls following me with their laser blue beams as I snuck out of the room.”

Frowning you sigh, “did you take an edible before bed?”

Armando feels his eye twitch, “no I didn’t take a fucken edible—I’m for real. Is this supposed to be normal? The dolls? The random lights? The bombs? The clicking and buzzing?”

You shrug, “…I didn’t hear any of that…or maybe I just learned to tune it out.”

“I see you didn’t get the light sleeping from your granny then.” Armando mumbles while you snort, moving one arm to latch onto his wrist.

Slowly lifting your head you say, “…well we can’t stay out here for the rest of the morning. Granny gets up at six and probably will let us rest until eight if we’re lucky so…”

Waking up early had no effect on Armando since he barely slept anyways. He already scoped out the area once the two of you got closer to Granny’s home from the airport for a good workout.

You just didn’t know it yet.

Working out with Armando in the gym was a death sentence and you’ll be damned if you do it out in this heat too? You rather go to hell in a pretty hand basket and Armando was willing to take you there honestly.

No pain, no gain.

*Cue the eye roll*

“That’s cool,” Armando shrugged, “but I’m not goin’ back in that room.”

Sitting back against the chair you huff, “fine you big baby…set the timer to 5:45 so you can go back to your room. Don’t think she won’t check once she’s up for the day.”

Armando scowls as you scrape back from the kitchen table, reaching over to slap your backside, “I’ll show you a baby if you keep getting smart.”

Rubbing the sting on your back side, you fan your hand back at him, which he snatched to hold while setting a timer as you both make your way to the hallway. Too tired to give him any lip, you were just ready to get back into bed and cuddling with your man didn’t hurt.

Your back is to Armando, he tucks himself right into you, feet intertwined, his hairy legs prickling your shaven ones, chin buried into the space of your neck and shoulder while cradling your stomach.

“…how long were your grandparents together?”

You heard him but take a minute to respond as you fight sleep, “They’ve been married since the early 60s…all the way up until pa’s passing in 2019.”

Armando breathes you in, “how’d they do it for so long?”

“That’s something you’ll have to ask Granny but they were everything good you can imagine—nothings perfect but they felt like it you know?”

“…Think he was used to all the noises here?”

You snort, “he’s always been a night owl so if any of us couldn’t sleep, he was always up in the living room in his chair, eating that a disgusting banana ice cream just waiting for any of us to talk. If we had a nightmare, he’d do anything to make us laugh until we forgot it.”

“Sounds like a special man.”

“He was.”

“…I want that you know? With you. The kids and the gran’s. The creaks and the strange, a loving home. A place where anybody can stay and feel like life’s worth revisiting, like it was nothing but a breeze once you see who you’re surrounded by. A less lonely life.”

You shuffle to face him now, resting your head underneath his chin, not finding this conversation to be new. Most nights when Armando couldn’t sleep, he would ramble about what a future could look like with you.

It warmed your heart just as much as how warm your granny kept the back of the house.

“Then let’s do it.” You mumble into the night as Armando squeezes you, placing a kiss right on top of your bonnet.

That sealed the deal.

“Morning, dear. How did you sleep?” Granny Bessie asks with a mug of coffee as Armando makes his presence known.

Armando glances at you who sips at your own mug with a hidden small smile, “Good. Thanks, Granny Bessie. I’m actually about to head out for my daily run…would you like to join us?”

That gets you to cast a glance at the man over your shoulder who softly squeezes your shoulders with a grin, “us?” You whisper.

Granny Bessie laughs, “oh no. I need to tend to some things around the house but make sure you eat something because the heat will rise by the time you’re out there. Also did you speak to your daddy about what time we should be expecting him?”

“He probably should have landed by now.” Armando shrugs, trying to ignore the feeling that he felt when Granny Bessie labeled the man as such.

You say, “He texted me about twenty minutes ago. He was heading to baggage claim, maybe in the next hour he should be here.”

“Alright, well you two best be going and stay away from the houses from the next two streets over…nothing but confederates on that side.”

The woman wags her finger in warning.

Armando nods, “Thanks Granny,” he pops a red grape into his mouth, “these are delicious.”

“Take as much as you want, darling.” The woman squeezes his elbow on her way by, “Now I’m going to go get fully ready for Mr. Lowrey.”

Frowning you ask, “now what do you mean by that granny?”

“Just that I need to be presentable in my own home.”

“Uh huh. I know you’ve been on Facebook and know what Mike looks like.”

“I am a woman of God, do not sass me.”

Armando snickers while you raise your hands in surrender, finishing off your morning juice.

“I see you Granny Bessie.” Armando teases while the woman fans her hands at him.

“Hush! Don’t make my bad list, Herman.”

You gently reminded, “It’s Armando, granny.”

“That’s what I said.”

“Okay! love you.”

“I love you too, baby.” She grins.

As you’re locking up the screen door, you and Armando walk around the path to the driveway to exit the home. He silently stops you, encouraging you to stretch while you send him an unimpressed look.

Armando was lucky you didn’t go into hiding around the house and shouldn’t be so bossy but you knew better.

“When did Granny see a pic of Mike?”

You switch to bending to the other toe, “when she wanted to see a picture of you. Then she proceeded to rate you, Dorn, Rafe, and of course…”

Armando laughs as he finishes, “Mike. your granny is a trip.”

“Tell me about it.” You try to prolong this morning exercise but he picks up pretty quick and isn’t having it.

He stops jogging in place, hand going out to slap your ass before pulling you along by the hand.

You’re wheezing, ready to throw a whole tantrum, legs stinging, wrists limp as you drag yourself up Granny’s driveway. There’s a Porsche parked to the right in the driveway by the rental you picked up from the airport. Mike’s already out of the car, at the trunk as he’s pulling out his luggage.

“Hey y’all! uh oh, Armando what did you do to my girl?” The smile vanishes from Mike’s face as his son glances back at you.

If the ground wasn’t so damn hot, if the air, if everything wasn’t on temperature hell you would have face planted right on the gravel.

Armando also looks back at you, hands on your knees as you give a wave to Mike, whose brows are deeply furrowed before he raises them to the twenty-eight year old closest to him.

“She’s aight.” He shrugs, “we needed to get our cardio in and she’s the one who wanted to tone that hot girl body up—her words not mine but I don’t disagree.” Armando looks at you again, biting down on his bottom lip, “she’s lucky I didn’t strap any weights to her ankles.”

Raising your hands above your head, you actually feel yourself sway doing that movement over touching your knees and Mike actually takes a step toward you but Armando presses the back of his knuckles against his bio dad’s chest. Mike takes his eyes off you for a second and sizes Armando’s hand as he’s now analyzing you closely himself.

“I don’t know how many serious girlfriends you done had in your life man but I’m telling you right now, if that girl ends up in the hospital with heat stroke because of you pushing her too hard, that’s your ass.” Mike warns Armando, who glares up at him.

He didn’t need Mike to tell him about you.

He was the one who took the time to get to know you mind body and soul.

Mike’s missed out on twenty-something years and didn’t get to give Armando any advice.

And that’s on Kanye!

Armando does move over to you the moment you feel your stomach clench, ready to upchuck any light breakfast you had. He doesn’t waste time picking you up and over his shoulder, you resting limply against him before he’s walking by Mike.

He pauses, “your room is the last room at the back of the house, padre.”

And with that Armando continues towards the house, ready to cater to you because what Mike Lowrey didn’t know was that Armando would die for you.

Mike is mumbling to himself, trying to control his temper since it felt like he was building a connection with Armando one minute and then in the next he was pulling ten steps back. The kid didn’t even offer to come back and help him bring his things in—not that Mike needed it but it was a decent thing to do.

Respect was earned and the duo had a long way to go.

So Mike lets it go, slamming the trunk shut before meeting a very excited Granny Bessie at the front door.

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More Armando content here.

[arthursfuckinghat]

There's thousands of details in rdr2 that I really love, and I say it all the time, but if I had to pick one as my favourite? It would be the campfire interactions.

From chapter one to even the epilogues, there's always something going on around a campfire.

It's always touched me in an emotional way, but the vulnerability, honesty and silliness that comes out of gang members during late night/early hour campfire conversations? It's truly a beautifully written and well executed feature that I spend a lot of time paying attention to.

The campfire is almost like the gang's communal safe space. They're free to talk, vent, sing or play instruments, and the others around will simply sit and listen or sing along. They bond over sharing these funny stories and tall tales, you have the opportunity to learn so much from the gang members by just listening around the campfire.

Lenny will talk about his father and their hardships, Hosea will talk about how much he misses Bessie or how special Dutch is to him, Reverend Swanson will be open about his addiction and the relationship he has with religion, Abigail will voice her frustrations about John, Bill will talk about how he got discharged from the army, John will talk about his worries regarding Dutch's leadership, Micah will talk about damnation and being prepared for hell, and Javier will be open about Mexico or his mother passing away and not being able to bury her.

There's plenty more, there's hundreds of different campfire interactions, but on a rare occasion - Arthur will talk. He'll sit down and begin apologising for how things have turned out, he'll admit how he's struggling to find a way forward for everyone and that he doesn't want to die but is willing to, then he'll ask for their forgiveness and excuse himself shortly after.

I find it hard to describe how despite gang members having differing options of each other, there's an unspoken mutual closeness that they share whilst talking around the fire. They'll jest and laugh and quip, but they'll also simply listen when they need to.

It's so wonderful.

[morbidology]

Born on August 25, 1965, in Louisville, Kentucky, Mia Zapata grew up in a family that nurtured her artistic inclinations. From a young age, she displayed a deep passion for music, influenced by artists such as Billie Holiday and Bessie Smith. Zapata learned to play the guitar and piano and by her teenage years, she was already honing her vocal talents.

In 1984, Zapata moved to Ohio to attend Antioch College, where she studied liberal arts. It was here that she co-founded the punk band The Gits in 1986. The band, which was known for its raw energy and Zapata's soulful, powerful voice, quickly gained a following.

In 1989, Zapata and her bandmates relocated to Seattle, a city that was emerging as a hotbed for alternative music, soon to be internationally recognised as the birthplace of grunge. The Gits became a fixture in the Seattle music scene, earning respect for their intense live performances and Zapata's emotionally charged lyrics.

Seattle, during this time, was teeming with creativity, with bands like Nirvana, Soundgarden, and Pearl Jam redefining the sound of rock music. The Gits, though not as commercially successful, were deeply respected by their peers and had a dedicated following.

On the night of July 7, 1993, Mia Zapata left the Comet Tavern, a popular hangout in Seattle’s Capitol Hill neighborhood, after spending the evening with friends. She never made it home. Her body was discovered early the next morning in the Central District of Seattle. She had been brutally beaten, sexually assaulted, and strangled to death.

The news of Zapata’s murder sent shockwaves through the Seattle community and beyond. In the wake of her death, local musicians and community members came together to form Home Alive, a nonprofit organization dedicated to providing self-defense classes and raising awareness about violence against women.

For nearly a decade, Mia Zapata’s murder remained unsolved. The Seattle Police Department, despite extensive investigations, was unable to identify a suspect.

But then in 2001, a routine search through the FBI’s Combined DNA Index System yielded a match between DNA found on Zapata’s body and that of Jesus Mezquia, a Florida fisherman with a criminal record. Mezquia was arrested in 2002 and extradited to Seattle to stand trial for Zapata’s murder.

In 2004, Jesus Mezquia was convicted of first-degree murder and sentenced to 36 years in prison.

[lazypapers]

do you have any HCs about how Arthur reacted to John being distant to Abigail when Jack was born? /how Arthur reacted when John showed up after a year

Oh definitely, my HC is similar to Roger Clark (the actor for Arthur). I think Arthur resented John for being distant and leaving her and his baby for a year. I imagine a couple years before Jack was born that's when he lost Isaac and that tragedy never left him and deeply effected him. He hated John for running away and taking things for granted from the very thing Arthur always sought and wanted. So when John returns, Arthur is just livid and their relationship is broken.

Arthur seemed like a character who wanted to be loved and belong in a family. He tried that with Mary, but I felt like Mary toyed with his feelings in the most wishy washy way (I get it. Like what future would you have with an outlaw). Obviously Eliza was a rebound from him breaking up with Mary. And that one night stand led to the conception of Isaac. He still chose to stay with Dutch's gang cause that was his family and he wasn't gonna stay with a girl he barely knew and didn't love. He probably tried to bring her along but she most likely didn't want to. I have this headcanon that their relationship was getting better and had potential to work. Arthur would have wanted to stay with them more often as his son got older with each visit. I would say maybe his son was like 4-5 years old the last time he saw him (since it's hinted in the game he taught a little boy fishing during the Jack fishing mission). However, this is when Dutch would manipulate Arthur severely.

He likely pressured Arthur to choose his loyalty to him and the gang over Arthur's son and Eliza. Think about it. When Hosea left to make a life with Bessie, Dutch got really messed up about it. Which explains his disgruntlement with John's loyalty and Abigail. For a bit he lost his family unit and control. He wasn't going to lose Arthur through the same thing. So he starts tightening that leash around Arthur through his low self-esteem and self-worth. He didn't want to lose his best dog. Definitely a red flag, that a lot of the gang members felt obligated that they owed Dutch just because he saved their asses (weird savior complex going on there 😬🙄).

As for why, he didn't seem all that bothered that John left. Maybe he kind of learned from his mistake with Arthur. Under his manipulation, Arthur completely broke when Isaac died (I feel like Arthur never fully recovered from that and Dutch noticed that he wasn't the "same" anymore). So not wanting to break his 2nd Golden Boy he loosened the leash. I'm pretty sure Dutch cared deeply about Arthur and John, and he isn't this evil selfish guy the way I'm describing him. That would be later in RDR1 😆, Dutch is complete bonkers in 1911. He is just incredibly flawed and super weird and a messed up way of showing he cares in 1899 prior.

Anyways I want to draw a storyline focused on the year John left and returned in the Golden Hour. Since the Golden Hour comics are basically about the close bond and eventual collapse of the gang. It would be fun to explore that part of the era of the gang. But once my wrist stops hurting and I have more time. All I can do is talk about it instead of drawing it.

[cartermagazine]

Today In History

Born January 26, 1892, Elizabeth “Bessie” Coleman became the first woman of African American and Native American descent to earn an aviation pilot’s license, as well as the first person of African American and Native American descent to earn an international aviation license from the Fédération Aéronautique Internationale.

Aviation professionals and aficionados continue to be inspired by Bessie’s daring and determination.

“The air is the only place free from prejudices. I knew we had no aviators, neither men nor women, and I knew the Race needed to be represented along this most important line, so I thought it my duty to risk my life to learn aviation.”

CARTER™️ Magazine