#I cried reading through what John had written in the journal

[arthursfuckinghat]

Epilogue 1 - John Marston

[vocabulari]

Today

I laughed until my abs ached with a coworker over silly emails. I wrote texts in iambic pentameter at the bus stop for the fun of it. A baby leaned on my chest like I was the safest place in the world, and another stretched her arms up to me to be held like I could bear her to the moon itself. A book about emotions during Holy Week written for toddlers moved me so much I read it twice. I walked briskly, squinting into warm sunshine, the brightest in days. I saw Jesus more clearly in the character of Moses by reading Acts 7 as if for the first time, I empathized with Paul as I reflected on this murderer going before his old enemies to declare his new allegiance, the shame, the fear. I marveled that Stephen saw Jesus standing at the right hand of God, a Chekhov’s gun I recalled in my class this evening, which, by the way, was the best I’ve been to so far. I realized it’s all about the long slow work of building a community. All of it. This is the work of God Himself. And we image Him in a thousand little ways, with our singing and storytelling and desire to create beautiful, uncorrupted things. Tears pricked my eyes as I realized this. I cooked myself a delicious dinner from scratch while singing Sondheim with my roommate, and put away leftovers for tomorrow. I ate peanut M&Ms and pineapple upside down cake, and felt food freedom and joy in my body. This body can hold two hefty babies at once. This body can sprint to the bus stop and jog up the escalator. This body can do a silly little dance in the kitchen and slide on the tile in socks. I felt seen in my botticelli shirt, known as people recognized that not once but twice I’ve worn artwork. I gave Abby a big hug. I spoke of church without shame in my class, though my heart raced before. I puzzled over the poem mine own John poynz on the metro, missed my stop, and had to backtrack. I read Dracula and chuckled at how girlhood hasn’t changed in 100 or 1000 years. Humans have always laughed and cried and shared salacious stories with their friends. I fretted over what to wear to the movies tomorrow night to see my friends all together. I felt useful and accomplished today. I felt so, so human today. I nearly cried euphoric tears while washing dishes. What greater joy could there be than to be alive on a Wednesday? What greater hope could there be than a realer, truer, freer life to come?

There is no poem that I could write to say

In better terms than this plain journaling

The wonders of existing in the world

Embodied, in community, and free.

I’m weak and I’m decaying, sure, that’s true

But I will never be this young again

And never have more clarity of thought

Or lightness in my heart than I do now.

Great God, what gift you’ve given me to see

That greatness isn’t some ambitious goal

Or changing the whole world, just baby steps,

and loving others through the little things.

Miss Lois told me that and she was right.

Amen and glory hallelujah, Lord!

[ramrodd]

Lost in Translation:The Redeemer in the Book of Job is NOT Jesus!

COMMENTARY:

Jimmy, the reason why Christians assume Jesus is the Redeemer in Job 19 is because He is  the Redeemer in Job 19, You alleged history jocks really need to put the Philosophy back into your Ph.D. I keep telling you that  Mark 15:36 And at the ninth hour Jesus cried with a loud voice, saying, Eloi, Eloi, lama sabachthani? which is, being interpreted, My God, my God, why hast thou forsaken me? Is a deliberate allusion to the Book of Job in the 3 cushion carom from the Cross, to Psalm 22 to the Temptation in the Wilderness to the Book of Job and Jesus is the Redeemer in Job 19. The  66 books of the Palestine Bible is the book in which is written Job's righteousness. This is the way the literature of the Bible works. The thing you need to come to grips with, Jimmy, is that not going to Vietnam will not prevent you from dying. The Gods envy us because we are mortal,  I'm as afraid of dying as anyone reading this, but the difference is that I know I am afraid of dying and being afraid of dying has helped keep me alive until now, with a lot of help from my friends, including Jesus and the Holy Spirit. If your job is to go into burning buildings, you can get killed doing that, But is is also pretty exciting, Plus, you've promised in front of God and the Rule of Law that you'll keep the faith with the job of going into burning buildings and all the other thrill seekers who have the same job and taken the same oath, The Oath that MAGA Mike Johnson and Sam Alito are violating, And January 6 proposed to replace with the appetites of Donald Trump, felon, The Book of Job is a farce that was literally composed by Elohim the verb from Genesis 1:1 and Revelation 4.2 in 3760 BCE as the divine anchor for Enoch's 7000 yar Epoch and as a testament to the faithfulness of God N;T. Wright describes. God is tricked, twice, by The Satan to allow The Satan to force Job to renounce Tod. The Satan successfully challenges God's virtue, The balance of the narrative describes the consequences for Job unti God realizes He has been made a fool of by The Satan, The Bellhop by Jerry Lewis is a restaging of the Book of Job. God promises to never let that happen again and offers Jesus as the lead component in a covenant cutting ceremony and atonement, Jesus died for the vanity of God and God's promise to eternally defend the integrity of Free Will in the Kingdom of Heaven, 19 is the Alpha and Omega of the Mind of Elohim the verb, Sura 74:30 The Hidden Secret: "Above it is Nineteen: establishes the divine origins of the Meccan Suras of the Koran, The Satanic Verses begin with the death of Khadijah, The literature of the Bible captues the Mythos of the anthropology, The archelogy just establishes that a Mythos was in progress, but it cannot convey the kinetics of the Mythos. Dr. Molly Worthen has escaped the toxic paternalism of the Plato's Cave of Post Modern Historic Deconstruction through the synthesis of her training in journalism and the military journalism of the Gospel of Mark and the protocols of contemporary eyewitness testimony with the Holy Spirit to achieve her Resurrection Epiphany, which has done for the Jesus Seminar what P-52 did for Johnnie scholarship prior to its discovery. If you have the intellectual dexterity and moral integrity to turn your 45 years of scholarship of its dead and go from the fallacy that Harmonics are the enemy of the Truth to the veritas that Harmonics are Veritas, your career will experience a divine serendipity,   My  guess is that Molly Worthen, as she considers the experience, will realize that she has an authentic John 14:32 memory of her process, The thing to understand about about N/T. Wright's writing is that it is infused with Christology, but the Mythos is Druid, The King James Bible is the Druid interpretation of the Greed, The legions that Constantine brought to the Milvian Bridge had been marinating in the Druid Mythos of Britain since 53 CE or so and the XP was a Druid talisman of Boudicca, Queen of Battle,

[vanillasakura]

RDRSW21 Day 2- Epilogue

Title: I Learned it All By Heart

Words: 2098

Pairing: Abigail/Sadie

Warnings/Notes: NSFW

(Title from comme tu dis by Pomme)

≿━━━━━━━━━━༺❀━━━━━━━━━━≾

I'll try to believe in myself. Like you say that you believe in me

“He almost loo.. Loo-kehd? No, that’s not a word.”

“You sure you don’t need any help, Ma?” Jack asked, looking at Abigail from across the kitchen table.

“I’ve got this, thanks though. I know this one, I know I do, it just always trips me up.”

“I can just read it to you, if you want. Or if you’d prefer that I wait until Miss Gaskill is able to come over, I don’t mind at all.”

“Jack, I wanna read what you wrote. I know I can’t offer as good advice as Mary-Beth, if I can even offer any at all, I just need to work on my readin’, or I’ll never get it at all.”

“That is true.” Jack clicked his tongue. “Do you want me to give you a hint?”

Abigail sighed. “Sure, that might help.”

“Two os next to each other don’t always make an ooo sound. Sometimes, like in the word ‘good’, they make-”

“Looked! ” Abigail exclaimed triumphantly, grabbing the pencil she kept next to her and writing down the word, its pronunciation, and Jack’s hint in her journal. She knew the alphabet by now (largely thanks to a mix of help from Jack, Charles, John, and, whenever she could make the trip west, Mary-Beth), but still struggled with bigger, more complicated words. Still, Jack told her she was doing great, and she supposed that was true, given that she could read through most of his old penny-novels now.

“Anyways, where was I.. ‘He almost looked like someone you would expect to find in a bib… bib-li-cal story, but this was not the bib … oh, bible, this was real life. This was a real man, and one who had lived... through his fair share of hardships, if the scars and the lines that marred his face were anything to go by.’ Jack,” Abigail put the paper down for a moment, looking her son in the eye, “this is amazing so far. I could never formulate words the way that you do.”

“Thanks Ma, I appreciate it.” Jack smiled, and Abigail did too. She was blessed that, despite all of the hardships he had gone through, Jack was still a happy and polite kid. He still loved reading more than anything (she doubted that would ever change, but why should it, when it provided him a way to pass his time and gave him a way to be happy?) and had been working on writing since he was eight or nine. Ever since John had run into Mary-Beth about six months ago, however, she had been coming out to Beecher’s Hope every few months, not only helping around the farm, but also doing her best to work with Abigail on her reading and giving Jack pointers on his writing. Honestly, as long as Jack was happy, Abigail was content. She wasn’t alone anymore, like she had been for so long, she had a wonderful lover, a husband who cared for her even if the romance had faded away, and said husband’s lover to lighten up her life in ways she had never dreamed possible for someone like her.

“You two been okay while I was gone?” The door swung open, and Abigail turned around to see Sadie walking in, a pleasant smile on her face.

“Sadie!” Abigail cried, getting up from her place at the table and running over to the other woman, practically throwing herself into her arms and kissing her cheek gently. 

Sadie chuckled, smoothing her hands over Abigail’s hair. “Oh come on, Abi, I didn’t leave you alone for that long, only eight hours or so.”

“Still, I missed you.” Abigail insisted, pulling back a bit to give Sadie some space. “D’you need anything? I bet you’re exhausted.”

“I’m alright, just need to rest a bit is all.” Sadie walked over to the table, peaking at the paper in front of Jack. “You still working on your story?”

“Yep. It’s coming along pretty well, too. Miss Gaskill said she should be able to make it over in two weeks or so, so I’m trying to get three more chapters written before then.”

“Ooh, Mary-Beth’s on her way? That’s great news! I hope John and Charles will be back from… wherever the hell they are before then so we can have a real party.”

“I’m hopeful they’ll be back too. It’s always great when everybody’s here.” Jack smiled.

“That it is.” Sadie agreed, moving to sit down in the empty chair to Jack’s left.

“Oh, I figure we should tell you; Ma’s been getting a lot better on her reading!”

“Hm, is that so?” Sadie glanced in Abigail’s direction, a small smile forming on her face as their eyes met.

“I mean, I suppose.” Abigail blushed, embarrassed by the attention. “

“Suppose? Ma, you got through three pages of my work in about fifteen minutes, and that’s including the time you took to write down the hard words and your notes and such. You’re doing amazingly well! Just wait until Mr. Jones and Pa and Miss Gaskill all find out, they’re gonna be blown away!”

“I’m pretty blown away too.” Sadie said, her eyes still locked onto Abigail’s. “You should be proud of yourself. Readin’ ain’t easy.”

Abigail somehow felt herself turning redder, and spun on her heel to go and work on sewing. She heard Sadie laugh behind her, the sound ringing out like brazen bells.

--

Abigail watched as Sadie changed into her nightdress, entranced. She was gorgeous, her sun-kissed figure nearly glowing in the low light. Something about the way that she went about unbuckling and unbuttoning every piece of clothing was enough to put Abigail in a spell. She still didn’t know how she had gotten so lucky so as to be with a woman so wonderful as her.

“I meant it when I said I missed you, y’know.” Abigail said.

Sadie turned around pulling her nightdress over her head. “And I meant it when I said I was proud of you.”

The comment had Abigail blushing again, biting her lip as she tried to avert her gaze from Sadie’s piercing eyes.

“I’m serious, Abi.” She walked over to the bed, taking a seat on the edge next to her. “Let me compliment you, please.”

“It ain’t anythin’ that really warrants a compliment. It’s pretty straightforward, I just need to get around to doin’ it more often.” Abigail laughed. “If I had started a bit earlier, I would probably be literate by now. And if I had more time I could dedicate to it, I’d be a hell of a lot closer.”

“I’d already say you’re pretty damn near literate now.” Sadie pressed a kiss to Abigail’s temple. “You can read Jack’s old books without a problem, and with someone’s help, you can read bigger works, like his work in progress.”

“I appreciate it Sadie, I really do, I just don’t know if it’s somethin’ that really warrants this much.”

“Well I sure as hell do.” Sadie reached her hand out, rubbing it softly in circles on Abigail’s thigh. “If anything, I think this kind of progress deserves a reward, don’t you?”

Abigail made a happy noise, resting her head on Sadie’s shoulder. “Not sure I’d say that much, but I’m the last person to be complaining.”

“Good.” Sadie reached her free hand out, turning so she faced Abigail and letting it rest on her cheek. “Because I’m gonna force you to be proud of yourself.”

Abigail wasn’t sure just who leaned in first, all she knew was that their lips eventually met and they were kissing, slow and warm and relaxing. Sadie slid the hand on Abigail’s cheek back, letting it tangle in her hair as she undid her braid. All the while, the hand on Abigail’s thigh kept stroking.

They broke apart momentarily, Abigail lifting her night dress up and over her head, casting it somewhere off the side of the bed. Sadie’s face lit up, and she eased Abigail down onto the mattress gently, kissing her once more, catching her bottom lip and nibbling gently.

“‘M gonna make you feel so good, Abi.” Sadie drew her hands up and along Abigail’s breasts, smiling at the breath that caught in her throat as she did so. “Just like you deserve.”

“Mm, why don’t you show me then, instead of tellin’ me?” she teased, unable to help herself. “Don’t you think that would be better?”

“Hm, maybe you’re right…” Sadie traced the outline of Abigail’s left nipple, smirking at the shaky gasp she let out. “Need to get you nice and wet for me first, though.”

“Then touch me where I need it.” Abigail sighed again as Sadie kept teasing her nipples, spreading her legs in an attempt to entice her lover. “Sadie…”

“Fine, you do deserve it after working so hard today.” Sadie let one of her hands dip down between Abigail’s legs, finding her clit and massaging in slow, steady circles. “This feel good?”

“Yes.” Abigail breathed out, arching her back into Sadie’s touch. “Don’t stop, please.”

“Wouldn’t dream of it.” Sadie eased herself down, using her left elbow to support herself as she leaned over Abigail and whispered in her ear. “You’re so smart, d’you know that? You pick up on things so quickly, you always take the time to teach yourself about things, you think things through logically…” Sadie trailed off, scraping her teeth along the side of Abigail’s neck. “It’s attractive. It’s so attractive, Abigail. You’re so attractive.”

“Were you thinkin’ that earlier?” she asked, smiling as pleasure fizzed through her. “You sure were lookin’ at me like somethin’-- fuck, Sadie -- somethin’ was on your mind.”

“I sure was. Damn near wanted to kick Jack outta the house and take you right there on the table. But that’s not all. You wanna know what else I was thinkin’ about?” Sadie’s breath fanned down Abigail’s neck.

“What?”

Sadie pulled back a bit so she could get a better look at Abigail, smiling down at her as though she were the only thing in the world.

“I was thinkin’ about how lovely you are. How cute you are when you blush, how perfect you always are… you’re so attractive, Abi. You always have been.”

Sadie’s words drew a moan out of Abigail, who began to grind against her fingers. “Sadie, my love…”

“Shh, I gotcha. I’ve always gotcha.” Sadie moved her finger down Abigail’s slit, circling her entrance once, twice. “I think you’re wet enough now, my darling.”

Abigail had to bite down on her lip to try and keep herself at least somewhat quiet as Sadie slid into her, stroking at that soft spot. “Sadie, goodness…”

“I know, that feels really good.” Sadie added a second finger, leaning in and capturing Abigail’s lips with her own once more, this kiss more heated than any previous one.

Abigail felt her legs begin to shake as she neared her peak. She pushed Sadie off of her lightly to try and warn her, but Sadie was already a step ahead, moving her mouth down to Abigail’s neck and sucking gently on a spot her collar would cover.

When Sadie’s thumb pressed into her clit, both of her fingers crooking just right, that was all, the coil in Abigail’s stomach coming undone as Sadie covered her mouth with hers, lips and tongues crashing together as Abigail rode out her high. She couldn’t remember the last time she had come this hard for seemingly no reason, but she wasn’t about to complain, not when everything felt this good.

Sadie pulled back as Abigail began to calm down, her breath hot and heavy on Sadie’s forehead as Abigail pulled her flush against her chest.

“That good, Abi?” Sadie asked, kissing the top of a breast lightly.

“Stop sellin’ yourself short.” Abigail panted, running a hand through Sadie’s undone hair. “That was amazin’ and you know it.”

“You really did deserve it, Abi. I’m so proud of you.” Sadie kissed Abigail’s breast again, wrapping an arm around her. Abigail hummed.

“I’ll take your word for it, then. If every time I do well on somethin, this is the reward I’ll get, I’m gonna be readin’ until I pass out from exhaustion.” she laughed.

“Just keep it at, Abi. I know you’ve got this, and you’re only gonna get better. You’ll be literate one day, and that day just keeps on gettin’ closer with every bit of progress you make.”

Abigail sighed happily. “Let’s both look forward to it, then.”

[missscarletta7]

The Broken Crown- Chapter 2

Summary: All Margaret Shelby ever wanted, was the opportunity to write her own story. Only now is she beginning to realize that her brother may have already written it for her...

Hello! Enjoy chapter 2!

OoOoOo

"Keep spendin' most our lives, Livin' in the gangsta's paradise,

Tell me why are we so blind to see,

That the ones we hurt, are you and me"

~Gangsters Paradise~

1919

"Mags." Was the first thing the young girl heard as she was gently shaken awake, "Go lay in your bed, eh?"

Upon half-opening her eyes, she saw it was Tommy who had been talking to her. Maggie only then realized she had fallen asleep sitting upright. She responded by rubbing her neck and slowly nodding. Clumsily she got off the bed with her journal in hand.

It was early. The exact time she wasn't sure, but sunlight wasn't streaming through the window yet. She entered the quiet hallway, navigating herself to her bedroom in the darkness. When she opened her door, she discovered a figure standing in the middle of the half-lit room changing clothes.

"There you are," Ada whispered out, shimming out of her slip, "Was wondering what happened to you."

"Slept in Tommy's room," She explained, yawning lightly. "Just get in? What time is it?"

Her sister nodded as she continued to change into a nightdress, slipping the fabric over her head. "It's just past four." She informed as the younger girl motioned her way around her sister to flop onto the bed, making it creak from the force of body weight.

"How was your night?" asked Maggie, moving to make her head more comfortable on the old shapeless pillow.

"Romantic." The older girl hummed, sliding into bed next to her sister. "I've never felt this way about anyone."

Maggie turned her body on her side. "Wish I could put a name and face to this mystery man." She watched her sister's eyes flash with guilt. At the realization of her thoughts were now said aloud, regret formed in the pit of Maggie’s stomach.

"I promise I'll tell you sooner than you think, I just-" Ada didn't have to finish the sentence for Maggie to understand what she was going to say: 'I just can't deal with our brothers if they find out '.

"I know Ada," was the last thing the sleepy girl said before closing her eyes and drifting back to sleep.

Eventually, she woke up again around seven in the morning. Carefully, she got out of bed trying not to wake up her sleeping sister, and dressed accordingly in one of Ada's old dresses. She also made sure to pack her journal into her book bag before making her way downstairs. Once in the kitchen, she saw Tommy reading the paper and Finn eating his breakfast.

"Morning." She said, grabbing a bowl and spoon to scoop mushy porridge out of a metal pot, which was sitting on top of the only working stove burner. Polly had most likely prepared it for them. "How did you sleep?"

Tommy knew that question was directed to him, "Better than I have in weeks." This made his sister smile as she sat down in the chair next to him. "Your writing has improved. But then again, I haven't heard you share your work since you were twelve. Pol says you won't even share with her or Ada. Why's that?" He was genuinely curious.

"I don't think it's ready to be shared yet," Maggie shrugged.

He peered at her as he set the paper down onto the table, "You shared last night."

"Only to put you to sleep." She countered, bringing the spoon to her mouth to consume the beige-colored substance.

"Going to have to sometime," he spoke sincerely. "How else are you going to become a writer, eh?"

He was right, she knew that, but right now, her writing felt sacred. As if her words were only meant for her. She was still coming face to face with a paradoxical problem. Every time she would write something down, it would instantly not be good enough. The pages of her journal seemed to have more scribbled-out lines than actual words. She just couldn't explain this feeling properly, and if she couldn't express her feelings in words, how could she write? No, sharing her words would only lead to not being understood. Her thoughts were soon interrupted by the opening and slamming of the front door.

"Tommy!" John angrily stormed into the kitchen, "It's Danny! Those fucking Wops got a hit on him."

Tommy answered back by pushing himself out of his chair and hurriedly following his brother out of the home. Finn quickly tried to follow, but Maggie grabbed him by the collar of his shirt, "Let go Mags!" he cried out.

Maggie sighed, "C'mon, let's get you ready for school." Finn could only respond with a groan, allowing his sister to lead him upstairs.

OoOoOo

The next day, a smiling Maggie was squished between John and Finn in the family car. She could barely move without hearing a complaint from John, but she didn't care, she was too excited. They were all on their way to the fair, which had been set up right outside of Birmingham. It had been so long since she had been to one. They were almost there, and she could see the big red and white striped tent peaking over the trees in the distance, so she was confused when Tommy parked the car in a clearing that was still a good distance away.

Arthur spoke up at once, "Thought you said we were going to the fair"

"Yeah, what are we doing?" She asked nervously, leaning her elbows against the front seat.

"We have business first. C'mon, bring your wits." Tommy said getting out of the car with John and Arthur following. He glanced over to his younger siblings noticing they were trying to do the same. " You and Finn stay by the car."

"Seriously?" She just wanted to have a normal day at the fair with her family. Was that too much to ask?

Tommy pointed at her to emphasize. "Stay by the car, Mags."

"What business?" Arthur questioned.

"That's the Lee family," She heard John say.

Great the Lees, thought Maggie sarcastically, as she sank into the seat. Though she did perk herself up when she saw a familiar face walking towards the car.

"Hi, Johnny!" She smiled and waved at the man.

"Well hello pretty lady," Johnny Dogs greeted as he approached the car. "Tell me, have you seen a lass named Maggie?" The teasing tone of his voice was prominent. He had not changed a bit in the four years his presence had been absent.

The girl giggled slightly at his antics, and with a playful air replied, "I'm Maggie."

"You canna be her." He overly acted out in disbelief, "Last time I saw her she was but a child!"

"Hang on a minute," They all heard Arthur say, "You're not swapping the family car for a bloody horse!"

Johnny turned around and quickly walked up to the oldest Shelby, "Of course we're not swapping it. Huh? That would be mad!"

"We're going to play two up," Tommy explained, handing a coin over to the family friend.

"Jesus." Arthur breathed out anxiously, as they all watched the pair toss their coins into the grass and lean forward to get a better view. Silently, Tommy handed over the keys to the car, much to the irritation of the eldest, "I knew it. Tommy, you bloody idiot!"

"Shut up Arthur. I won," Tommy told him, "I promised Johnny I'd let him have a spin in the car if he lost." He watched as the relief washed over his brother's face but was interrupted by collective snickering. He turned to the three men dangerously, "Are you Lee boys laughing at my brother? Are you? Eh? I asked you a question!"

"Tommy! Tommy, c'mon it's just a craic." Johnny reasoned, trying to keep everyone calm, "Get your family out of here and go enjoy yourselves at the fair before they start a war." Johnny then turned to the Lees, and Maggie was able to make out most of what he said. It had something to do about the grandfather she never met before one of the Lees replied, "Yeah, but his mother was a Diddicoy whore."

That had done it. Whipping his weaponized hat off of his head, Tommy slashed at the man's face. Arthur and John quickly joined in. Blood could be seen gushing from their faces as they all yelled obscenities at one another. Finn looked in awe at his brothers, his gaze never wavering from the fight, but Maggie felt sick.

OoOoOo

An hour later they had finally reached their original destination. Looking and walking around the fair was an amazing experience. The many rides, animals, oddities, and food all in one place were a wonderment to the many families that came out from all over the area. Yet, Maggie's level of enthusiasm was less than what Tommy had expected. She couldn't shut up most of the way there, now she was as silent as a stone.

"What's the matter with you, eh?" Tommy questioned as they walked around the fairgrounds together, "Did you want to take a spin on the big wheel ride?" He pointed up to the giant machine with carriages that slowly spun in circles.

She asked quietly, "Did you have to hurt them?" Sure, Maggie knew what her brothers did. She would be naive if she said she didn't, but she had never been a witness to it. The violence that she had often heard others speak of was now forever ingrained in her memory, becoming a standard for their future offenses. "The Lee's." She clarified although she was certain he knew what she was talking about.

"They were disrespecting us Mags," He explained as if she were younger than Finn. "You heard them."

Tommy had always tried to keep her in the dark about their business practices, which was easy when she was younger. Unlike Finn, she had always kept her nose in a book, never really paying attention to the transgressions of her siblings. But now she was beginning to notice and was starting to ask questions he'd rather not answer.

"You couldn't walk away?" Maggie inquired, looking towards anywhere but his face.

He remained silent for a moment before stiffly asking, "Do you want to get on the fucking wheel ride or not?" That was Tommy-ese for 'drop it', so she did, and added herself to the growing line. Tommy followed her lead, standing behind her he pulled a cigarette out to smoke as they waited.

Maggie was quiet the entire duration of the drive back home. The setting sun rays peeked through the gray smog as they entered Small Heath, they all noticed the place had been trashed. Broken and ripped furniture looked like they were just tossed in the streets and all those who watched the Shelby car roll slowly down the street managed to give them all a dirty look.

Arthur was the first to speak up, "Now, what the bloody hells been going on here?"

OoOoOo

Apparently, from what she gathered it had been the new copper that had been behind the trashing of their neighborhood. Maggie and Cara walked through the crowd, as they recounted the events of each other's day. Thankfully the Ryans dress shop had been spared from the destruction and Maggie told her friend everything about the fair, excluding the violent beginning of course. In front of them stood a pile of portraits that had been gathered from around all the homes and businesses of the community. Once they were lit on fire, familiar faces were lit up as well to contrast the darkness. They both soon saw Ross with a crowd of men, most likely coworkers from the BSA. Once he saw them, he waved them off and began moving toward the girls.

"Are you ever going to tell him?" Maggie asked her friend, as they watched the young man weaving his way through the crowd of people.

"I will!" Cara defended before adding, "Eventually." Maggie tried to hide her smile.

"All right ladies?" Ross greeted once he was near enough.

"So, what's all this about then?" Cara questioned somewhat flirtatiously, pointing at the heap of portraits.

"Ask Mags," Ross replied, sending the dark-haired girl a smirk, "It's her brothers that have organized all this, went 'round taking everyone's pictures."

"Oh right, because they run everything by me first." she joked, causing both her friends to chuckle. Cara soon took over in leading the conversation, but Maggie was only half paying attention. Curiously, she watched as Tommy spoke with a man that she had never seen before. He must have felt her gaze because he found her face in the crowd, causing Maggie to quickly divert her stare off her brother. Ross then pulled out a flask from a pocket inside his dark coat.

"Care for a swig?" He asked them, shaking the container slightly. Drinking alcohol was something she had never really made into a habit, for her it was only for special occasions. Without hesitation, Cara took the silver flask from his hand and drank a few gulps before passing it on to Maggie. Maggie glanced back to her brother, who was no longer watching her, but instead had gone back to his discussion with the man who was now writing something down on a pad of paper.

She grabbed the small open bottle in her hand and raised it to her friends, "Cheers." The liquid burned in her mouth, but she forced herself to swallow. She coughed at the sensation, making Cara laugh as she took the flask back in her hand, downing what was inside again. The small group of friends joked and drank for the next hour or so, as the flames of the bonfire created a comforting warmth over the burning expressionless eyes of his majesty the king.

OoOoOo

After drinking so much during the bonfire, Cara must not have been feeling too well because she didn't show up to school the next day. Not only that, but it also seemed as though Finn decided to skip again. So unfortunately for Maggie, she was fated to walk home alone. Slung over her shoulder was her book bag which carried a few books, pens, and her journal. As she walked past the first alleyway, she felt a presence quickly appear next to her.

"In need of some company?" Ross asked, tossing his finished cigarette onto the pavement.

"That would be nice." She smiled up at his tall frame, which had a good five inches on her.

He motioned to the bookbag that rested on her shoulder, "Let me help with that."

"I can carry it myself." She calmly asserted, which made the young man grin.

"Now how would it look to all these people around us if I didn't help you with that, Hm?" He waved his index finger around to point at various people going about their day, "Word will get back to my mum, and she'd beat me for not being the gallant gentleman she raised. And you'd be responsible for that. I'm only trying to save you from a guilty conscience later on."

She supposed she shouldn't let that happen. With a small smile, she passed the bag to him which he took gladly.

"Last night was fun, eh?" He continued, slinging her bag over his shoulder.

"It was," she replied, allowing her mind to wander through the fresh memories. "Though I think Cara had too much fun."

"Sounds like her," he snickered out, "Never scared of fun."

"What else do you think about her?" The dark-haired girl pressed.

"Who, Cara?" He asked and Maggie nodded. "I dunno." He shrugged, adding, "Nice I suppose."

"Oh c'mon, you have to see the way she looks at you" Maggie alluded.

"Never noticed." He admitted, looking uncomfortable.

She knew she couldn't push the matter any further than that. It was time to change the subject, "How's work?"

"Factory is on strike again." He answered her, appearing more relaxed, "Freddie thinks we should be compensated more. Guess we'd need that in order to make up for the wages we've lost."

She couldn't stop herself from rolling her eyes. Of course, Freddy had something to do with this. Though she always admired her brothers' old friend for sticking to his beliefs, she silently judged anyone whose beliefs ranged on the spectrum of radical. "Freddie needs to be more careful. As do you, he's going to get everyone in some serious trouble."

He smiled at her worried words, "He'll be fine. I heard from other workers that he skipped town after the raid. As for me, I think that a bit of trouble is the only way to get what you want."

They had just turned onto Watery Lane, their pace began to slow until they eventually stopped just across the street from the front door of her home. "You didn't have to walk me all the way home, you know," she told him as he handed her book bag back.

His hazel eyes meet her blue ones, "I'd do anything for you, Margaret," he declared seriously. She couldn't help but think that there was a hidden meaning in his words. Was she reading too much into this? He must have meant that as her friend, right?

"I-," she started.

"Maggie!" Tommy's voice rang out.

Maggie turned her head to see her brother as he made his way toward them. The girl's heart clenched at the thought of what he was going to do. Her mind had quickly jumped back to the memory of yesterday, the slashing, the anger, the blood. She glanced over to Ross, whose expression went from nervous to stoic in a matter of seconds.

"Go inside," Tommy instructed once he stood close enough to the two teens.

"But-"

"Now Mags," he commanded with a low voice. Coolly, Tommy took a drag from his cigarette that was resting in between his fingers, not taking his eyes off Ross.

With a huff and a final look towards her friend, Maggie bid him farewell before swiftly walking toward the front door of her family home. Once the dark-haired girl was out of earshot Ross apprehensively spoke, "Mr. Shelby I- I was just walking her home, I wasn't trying to-"

"I know Ross," Tommy assured the anxious young man, tossing his finished cigarette to the ground. Pol had told him that the young Murray lad had helped look after his sister while he and his brothers were away in France. Had even heard a rumor amongst some of the younger men in the betting shop that he knocked the shit out of another boy who was sniffing around Margaret. If that was true, Tommy felt indebted. He was a busy man, so he cut to the chase, "You beat a bloke that was giving Maggie trouble?"

Ross modestly nodded at his question. "You're a good lad." The gangster commended, passing the young man one of his cigarettes from its silver metal casing. He also lit a match to assist him with lighting it. "Is your Uncle Ian still living in Dublin?"

Ross had to admit, he wasn't expecting the line of questioning to head in this direction. Nevertheless, he nodded once again, removing the rolled tobacco from his lips to allow a puff of smoke to escape from his lungs. The young man's confusion ceased when he watched Tommy pull out two pounds sterling from his pocket. Ross’s eyes couldn't help but widen at the act.

"Good, I want you to do me a favor. Call him and tell him to ask around all the local pubs in town if they know anything about a barmaid named Grace Burgess." As much as Tommy wanted to say he didn't care about this new woman who had found herself working at The Garrison, he needed to know exactly where she came from and if she was telling the truth. Digging out another pound he said, "Here send this to your uncle too."

"I will Mr. Shelby," he assured, accepting the coins in his outreached hand.

Tommy turned away and began walking toward his home, without looking back he added, "Welcome to the Peaky Blinders, Ross."

OoOoOo

When Maggie entered her home, she found Polly sitting in the kitchen reading a newspaper and drinking tea. "Hello, love. How was school?"

"Fine." She replied curtly, dropping her book bag onto the floor beside the table. She immediately moved to the window, looking out just in time to see Tommy lighting a cigarette for Ross. Relief washed over Maggie, this conversation thankfully seemed as though it wouldn't involve fists... or razor blades.

Polly's eyes were now on her, "What are you looking at?"

"Nothing." Maggie tore herself away from the window to sit down opposite her aunt, pulling out her journal and pen from the book bag next to her feet. Tommy ended up entering the kitchen not two minutes later.

"I hope you didn't tell my friend that you'd hurt him." Maggie told her brother much more boldly than she felt, "He was just being kind."

He stared at her for a moment before replying knowingly, "Now why would I hurt my newest recruit." With that, he exited into the betting shop closing the doors behind him. She gapped, still looking at the shut doors trying to process how Tommy could ever involve her friend in whatever schemes he was engaging in.

Her emotions must have shown all over her face because her aunt chuckled slightly. "I wouldn't worry too much about your friend," Polly told her eyes still on the black and white paper. But Maggie couldn't stop herself from slumping into the old wooden chair before she continued writing, ultimately stopping when she felt her sister's presence enter the room.

"Good of you to join us," Polly said to Ada from behind her newspaper. "Where have you been all day?

"In bed," Ada replied. "Couldn't sleep, then I couldn't wake up, then I was cold, and then I had to go for a wee. Then I was with this bear on a boat, but that was just a dream, then I was hungry." Maggie looked up from her journal once again to see that Ada took the empty seat between her and their aunt with a massive slice of bread with a jar of jam in hand.

Maggie looked pointedly at the last of the bread that she had made recently, "Jesus Ada, save some food for the rest of us."

Ada stuck her tongue out, before looking at her aunt, "Why are you reading the paper?" Ada inquired.

"Why wouldn't I be?" Polly questioned back, picking up her teacup.

"I've never seen you read the paper. I've only ever seen you light fires with them." The older Shelby sister continued, taking a bite of her food.

"BSA is on strike" Polly explained, "The miners are on strike. IRA are killing our boys, ten a day." Though when Polly stopped talking, she continued to stare at Ada eating.

The older girl soon noticed her aunt's gaze. "What?" She asked in between her chewing.

"Stand up," Polly commanded.

"Why?" Ada questioned.

"Just stand up," Polly ordered standing up herself, eventually Ada compiled, "Side on," Polly added and Ada motioned her body to face to the side. Maggie was taken aback when Polly suddenly cupped one of her sisters' breasts.

Though Ada was much more reactionary, "What are you doing?!"

"Ada, how late are you?" Polly asked seriously and Maggie couldn't stop her mouth as it fell open slightly.

"One week." Not too bad, Maggie thought. "Five weeks," Ada amended. It wasn't ideal, but maybe she was due any day now. "Seven, if you count weekends." The girl corrected herself once again.

"Holy Fuck, "Maggie shook her head in disbelief.

Ada seemed desperate for this not to be the reality, "I think it's a lack of iron. I got some tablets." She explained to them, as Polly sat back down in her chair.

"But they didn't work." Their aunt concluded.

Ada too sat back down, "No."

Maggie gulped at her sister's answer and looked to her aunt, watching Polly as she took a deep breath. The thought process could not be seen on her face, but the young girls knew that the situation was being meticulously addressed in her mind. "Get dressed. We're going to the midwife. Let's just make sure you are before anyone makes any rash decisions."

Ada nodded, holding back the tears that threatened to spill over. Maggie's heart clenched, and moved her hand over her sisters, squeezing it slightly. Whatever was to come, they would weather through it together.

[unabashegirl]

#3 “Equatorial Sun”

Author’s note: Just a little Harry to keep us strong through this quarantine thing. 

***Paragraph in italics has been taken from the actual book Love Letters of Great Men. Vol 1 by John C. Kirkland. It is not mine ***

masterlist 

-- 

They sit across from each other. The room smells like vanilla. It is not brightly illuminated, but it’s slightly dimmed. Just enough to allow her to continue reading the book that she had been putting off because of him. They had finally decided to leave the bedroom. The couple had spent the first few days of quarantine, locked up in their bedroom making up for the lost time. 

Y/N sat on the corner farther away from the glass windows.  She is constantly cold and after much complaining, she decided to claim that corner as hers since it was perfect. She wears a matching set of pajamas that she had received from Anne for her last birthday. Her hair is down, covering the sides of her big framed glasses. Her legs are stretched out, but they still don’t reach him. 

The arm that holds the heavier side of her book rests over the back of the couch as her side is pressed up against the cushions. Her body is facing him, but her eyes are glued on the thin paper of her poetry book. Love Letters Of Great Men Vol I is her choice of the day. Her new fascination for romantic poetry had just recently started. 

Harry had traveled to Paris for Fashion Week and had taken her with him. While he attended to the Gucci show, she stayed behind and discovered the streets of Paris. She found her first book in a little shop a few blocks away from their hotel. Harry at first couldn’t understand her obsession with reading about love. At first, he assumed that she was lacking some love from him. He felt horrible and it wasn’t until he sat down with her and asked her what he could do better that she revealed the truth. Now that she was in love, she could finally understand the poems and the hidden feelings that each stanza revealed. 

Harry gently shuts close his leather diary after completing three pages. He shifts his body and faces her. He doesn’t say anything and just observes her from the other side of the couch. Her left-hand grips tightly the edge of the book while the other plays with the top corner of the pages, slightly bending them inwards. Her lips are slightly parted as she quietly mumbles the words that she reads. She knits her eyebrows in concentration. 

“Have I ever told you that you are beautiful?” He asks as his chin rests on his hand that lays on the back of the couch. She raises her head and closes the book, but keeps her finger in between pages as a marker. 

“I love you” A smile appears across her face which he only mirrors back. It is one of those famous smiles of his that reveal his left dimple. 

“How is the book?” He asks as he leans a bit forward, intrigued by the words that his girlfriend is finding entertaining enough. “Would you read me some?” Harry picks his head up just to run his fingers through his hair before settling it back down. She bits her bottom lip and opens the book. 

“This is a letter from Napoleon to Josephine, his wife” Harry only nods back before Y/N starts reading out loud the loving words from the man. “... in truth, I am worried, my love, at receiving no news of you; write me quickly four pages, pages of those delightful words that will fill my heart with emotion and joy. I hope to hold you in my arms before long, and cover you with a million kisses, burning as the equatorial sun”  Y/N shuts the book close and settles it on the coffee table. 

“That was beautiful” Y/N nods back and sits up straight. “Maybe I should start writing you love letters” He suggests as he sees the adoration and passion that her eyes fill with as she read. There is nothing more attractive to him that when she speaks about something that she is passionate about. 

“What are you talking about? What about your music?” Harry grabs her ankle and tugs her closer to him. It takes him a few gentle tugs to finally get her beside him. She is finally close enough for him to able to touch her. 

“What about it?” Harry asks as he plays with a strand of her hair. He tugs on a small piece that always curls beside his ear. It is the stand that she always battles with especially when she had to attend to one of his fancy events. 

“Baby” she giggles, “Those are love letters” Y/N smiles as she pecks the tip of his nose. None of the songs were about her specifically, but they were all lovely. Each one of them described the way that Harry was feeling. They were beautifully written and they made the fans feel what he also felt once. He frowns and pulls away a bit from her,  clearly disagreeing. “It’s your feelings. All the love, pain and anguish you felt once”. 

She didn’t need him to write her songs or love letters. Harry did enough every day to prove his love for her. He did little things every day. They were never overlooked or disregarded by her. Harry would pull her in for a kiss, a long hug, a neck nuzzle, a hair stroke or all together for no reason at all. He would hold her hand whenever they walked down the street. When shopping for groceries, he would remember the type of milk she likes and her favorite snack to munch when they watch a movie in bed. Whenever she cooks for them, he always offers to do the dishes. He gets excited to hang out with her family and considers them his own. It’s always the little things. 

“If you say so” Harry takes her hand and kisses it before pulling her into a warm embrace. She hides her face in the crook of his neck instantly getting a sniff of his expensive cologne and aftershave. His arms wrap around her, holding her tiny frame against his.  

“I know so” She pecks his lips once more before pulling away from him. Y/N has always hate how much he underestimates and doubts himself. She has always hoped for him to look at himself the same way that the entire world saw him. He has the purest heart. He is constantly worried about everything including the things he can’t control. Attempting to divert him from it has always been a challenge. She has given up on it because that’s the way that he is. If she was to change him, he would no longer be the Harry she knows and loves. 

It isn’t until a few months later when the world goes back to normality that he is finally able to write her one. After spending so much time locked away, he had grown even more accustomed to having her around him. The departure had been rough this time. They had both cried, but at different times. She had done it before he climbed into the car whilst he had done it, ten minutes into the ride. She has seemed him cry multiple times, but he had opted not to cry in front of her this time around because he needed to act calm and collected for her. 

She finds the letter three days after his departure. She is doing her usual cleaning routine of the bedroom when she opens the second drawer of her nightstand. There is, nicely folded and carefully placed over one of her books. It is not only handwritten but the paper he has used it’s from his journal. He hadn’t bothered in using scissors to cut the side of the paper that has been ripped out. She doesn’t mind, she finds it charming and makes it more special. 

It’s three pages and each of them is dated and has the address written on the top left corner.  Harry had found it silly to write the complete address by the time he got to the third page and instead he had written ‘our home’ with a small smiley face beside it. 

How could I ever begin to describe my love for you? I’ve always thought that I had experienced love, but not until I met you. I can still remember that first day when we finally crossed paths. Do you remember, my love? That day in the farmers market? How you kept gently squeezing the avocados looking for the perfect ones to take home? I keep rethinking our conversation about my music being love letters and it doesn’t feel right. It doesn’t feel right because none of my current love letters are about the woman that I love. I promise you that this will change. Never my love for someone has been so easy, so flawless and so carefree...

Y/N lays back her bed, completely forgetting about continuing to clean. She slips off her shoes and lays over the blankets while she continues to read the letters that her boyfriend had written for her and for her eyes only.

[purplesurveys]

1248

Your ex taps you on the shoulder and says, “I still love you.” You say?  I feel like I’ve answered a similar situation recently, but I would assume it was a drunk text or wrong text, inform them about it, and move on.

Do you play video games?  Nah. I do feel a sort of connection of video games since I grew up surrounded by them, though; but I’m more of a watcher than anything. I like watching playthroughs of video games I’ll never play. Do you spend a lot of time with family?  No. We used to, back when the quarantine was still a relatively new thing – we hung out in the living room all the time. But now that we’ve settled in this new normal, we’re back to our normal routines and I usually like staying in my room.

Is your house more than two stories tall?  Technically, yes. We have a rooftop that serves as the ‘third’ floor.

Have you ever hit your significant other? Has he/she ever hit you?  My ex and I never hit one another; that’s a gigantic red flag even I would notice, considering I ignored most of the ones I saw hahaha.

What makes you an attractive person? (Talk about your personality too!)  I’m not sure if I’ll be able to answer this question directly, but I like my generosity. I’m not sure if I can call it attractive, though. But if we were focusing on physical features, I like my smile.

What color is your hairbrush/comb?  Pink.

What snacks do you have available in your household atm?  My dad splurged on chips in his last grocery run so we actually have quite a lot of junk food in the pantry at the moment. He also bought several packs of cookie sandwiches, wafers, sunflower seeds, and garlic-flavored peanuts.

Has anyone recently told you that they like you, or find you attractive?  Neither.

Are you attracted to the last person you Facebook messaged?  No, she’s just a good friend of mine.

Do you care about anyone that doesn’t care about you?  I guess I don’t, because I’m not even aware of them.

Was your last Facebook friend requests from a male or female?  Guy. It was another reporter, so I just ignored it and luckily he didn’t PM me just to ask to add him back, which others have already done. I really hate when work people try to make their way into my personal accounts.

Which one of your relatives is most likely to embarrass you?  My parents, especially when they are rude to service crew. Gen X-ers are impeccably talented at that, apparently.

When was the last time you ate a bar of chocolate?  Around two or three weeks ago when I had dinner at Angela’s. Her dad gave me a bar of Crunch so I can have something sweet after our meal.

Do you play any games on Facebook?  No, I never did hop on that trend.

What would you like to get a degree in?  I wanted a degree in journalism, and graduated with such. At the end of my college stint I didn’t want to pursue it anymore, but I pushed through with it anyway because it was too much of a hassle to shift and start all over.

Do you wake up a lot in the middle of the night? Technically not, because I stay up until the middle of the night anyway. It’s been a while since I fell asleep anywhere between 8 to 10 PM.

Would you prefer to read a book, watch a movie or TV show, or play a video game?  Watch a show.

Do you usually get popcorn or soda at the movie theater?  I don’t like either; I get fries instead.

What genre of films do you like the best?  Drama.

How many bank accounts do you have?  Two but I haven’t been using the other one in months. That was the bank account I initially opened when I first started ~adulting~ but when I got employed I was required to enroll in this other specific bank, so that’s what I mainly use now.

Have you ever had the flu?  Not really. I just get the occasional fever that pop out of nowhere.

What is your goal for the next few months?  Start saving FOR REAL, and also prioritizing furniture over merch for a while so I can finally fix up my room, which is quickly starting to look and feel like just a warehouse and not very homey at all.

Have you ever had some kind of sleep-disorder? How did it affect your life?  Nope.

Have you ever had food poisoning before? Describe the experience.  Yeah, it was from barbecue that apparently went bad, even though it tasted nothing of the sort. I woke up at 3 AM sweating profusely and with the most excruciating stomachache; I was feeling hot, cold, and nauseous all at the same time, and it probably lasted for like an hour or so.

What are two things that you have no problem paying full price for?  Sealed albums and my pets’ vet expenses.

Funny, charming, cute, romantic, smart - choose only 2 for the opposite sex.  Charming and smart.

Have you ever let somebody use you? Why did you do it?  It felt nice to help people.

You can go back in time & change something in your mom’s past - what is it? Good question; I’ve never encountered this before. I would let her live a more comfortable, privileged life, where she didn’t have to staple her shoes to keep them closed or have to choose between eating at a fast food restaurant or being able to commute back home.

Do you know anybody who is around the exact same size as you? Who? I’m not sure, actually. Everyone’s always slightly taller than me.

Ever been to a haunted house? How scared were you?  I haven’t.

Been on any websites today you wouldn’t want your parents to see?  Tumblr, I guess? My survey blog isn’t for any irls to see.

Which is worse: dusting or mopping?  I don’t really do either often, but I’ll go with mopping.

Would you marry somebody who was intensely religious?  Not for me.

Did you pull a senior prank?  No, that’s not a thing here. Did you graduate?  Yeah, elementary, high school, and college.

Have you ever been unfaithful in a serious relationship?  Nope.

What was the last song you listened to?  It’s a song called Epiphany.

Are you one of those lucky people with 20/20 vision?  Not ever since I was like 9 lol.

Is fashion one of your interests?  I’m way more interested in it now for sure, mostly because the celebrities I’m into these days put a lot of effort when it comes to their style; so it makes me more aware of the trends that come and go, as well.

Do you think you’ll eventually find that special someone?  I’m keeping it as a possibility, but it’s not a priority for me now.

Do you care what people think?  To an extent, I would say. My life doesn’t depend on it, though.

Is acting something you enjoy?  Never been.

What was the last thing you broke/sprained?  Do you mean a thing or a body part? Anyway, I’ll answer both. The last thing I broke was my BTS Mic Drop pen of V looooooooooool the figurine came off the pen :(( It was pretty cheap though so I’m fine with it; I can always get another one. Last body part I sprained was my ankle, when I had a bad fall a couple of years ago.

Have you ever fought with a friend because of their boyfriend/girlfriend? Because of yours?  Either hasn’t happened.

Has a stranger ever yelled at you for your language?  I don’t think so.

Whose house, other than yours and your families', are you most comfortable at?  Angela’s. Also JM’s, just because their family doesn’t hover and that vibe can sometimes be nice whenever I’m at someone else’s place.

Has any of your friends’ family ever yelled at you?  Never.

Did you ever play a sport as a little kid? Did you enjoy it? Not as a very young kid, but I took up table tennis starting when I was 12. Did you ever watch the show Full House?  Nope.

Is there a celebrity you are just DETERMINED to marry?  Now that’s just delusional haha. I’m pretty obsessed with some celebrities, that much I can admit; but thinking of them in the context of marriage is so many steps overboard.

Have you ever burned someone’s picture?  No. I could, but I am scared of fire and will probably just think of other ways to express my anger, like tearing up the photograph. What’s the longest hike you’ve ever been on?  Total length was probably like 3 hours. I haven’t gone too far when it comes to hiking.

Would you ever get a lip tattoo?  Not interested.

Who is the first person of the opposite sex that pops into your head? Hans.

Do your parents smoke cigarettes?  My mom tried it once in her life, I think. My dad has never smoked.

What does one of your T-shirts have written on it?  “Hope right here!”

Name a pet you definitely wouldn’t want.  Anything that’s supposed to roam freely in the wild, like squirrels.

Would you prefer your partner smaller or taller?  Taller, since I’m already quite pint-sized to begin with lol.

Do you enjoy going through old pictures? Sometimes. Other times, it's too painful. It also depends on the era of the pictures. < Agree, especially with the eras. Childhood photos are always fun to look at, but I have had to delete a CHUNK of photos from years ranging from 2014 to 2020 because I’ve lost a handful of friends from that period.

Do you believe people when they say they don’t judge people?  It’s hard to for the most part, but I’ve noticed very few people people really don’t. Most of the time it’s bullshit though.

What did you love the most about the town you grew up in?  That it’s pretty close to the metro.

What’s a movie that you laughed the hardest during?  Hmm, I prefer TV shows if I’m craving comedy.

What’s a movie you cried the hardest during?  Life Is Beautiful.

What’s your favorite restaurant?  Omakase for my sushi fix; School Tteokbokki if I want Korean; Yabu if I’m looking for a generous rice meal.

Is there a dessert you don’t like?  Anything with fruits.

Favorite album?  After Laughter by Paramore.

What’s a book that you read because everyone else was reading it?  I can name authors instead of books – John Green and Haruki Murakami.

Underwater or outer space?  Outer space.

Dogs or cats?  Dogs.

Kittens or puppies?  Puppies.

Bird watching or whale watching?  Whale watching. I don’t get to be in the water as much, so I would jump at the opportunity.

What is your spirit animal?  I dunno if I have one but let’s just go with dog and elephant, I guess? They’re my favorites.

What was your best subject in school?  History.

What was your worst subject in school?  Chemistry.

What is one thing you wish you knew in high school?  Don’t waste your time.

Who is your fashion icon?  Audrey Hepburn.

Diamonds or pearls?  Diamonds.

What color dress did you wear to prom?  For my own prom it was cream-colored/beige. When I went to Mike’s ball, I went with a royal blue gown.

What’s your favorite plot-twist?  I don’t think I’ve found my favorite yet.

Honestly, are you jealous of someone right now?  Not actively.

Honestly, what’s the worst thing you’ve done when you were mad?  I dunno...road rage, maybe?

Honestly, ever made anyone cry when you were mad?  It’s very likely.

Honestly, when was the last time you REALLY cried your heart out?  Sometime in the last week.

Ever pop someone else’s pimple? No thanks.

Do you need to return anyone’s phone call?  Nope.

Who are you closest to?  Angela.

Have you ever had a bad concert experience?  No, all the ones I’ve been to have been amazing experiences.

Are you currently sad about anything?  Not really. I can’t complain.

Have you had any form of exercise today?  Nah.

Can you handle blood?  Nope, I will feel faint if I see it 100%.

Has any place hired you underage for a job?  No.

Have you ever carried a concealed weapon?  I haven’t.

Are you currently searching for a job?  No, I like the one I have.

Does eating breakfast make you sick?  No?

[ms-rampage]

Eden’s Gate: Left Behind Chapter 16 - This Life

Warnings: Swearing, birthday sex, oral (female reciving)

Word count: 2.9k

Summary: Time flies by, John and Kate continue their relationship, Kate’s birthday and earning her degree. 

Guest OCs: Paige Winchester [mentioned] Kenneth Smith [mentioned]

Guest characters: Chuck/God [mentioned], Archangel Gabriel [mentioned], Castiel [mentioned].

Note: Chapter 2 of The Mother will be posted soon!!!!!

**************************

“You’re okay. You’re okay” John says, holding Kate in his arms. Stroking her hair.

“What-what- what happened?!?” she wheezes out.

“You were dead!!” Morgan tells her.

She looks at her confused, “Maybe that's why I saw my dad” she says.

“What?!” John asks while looking at her confused.

“Your dad?” Morgan questions.

“My dad. I saw him, and I spoke with him” she tells them. 

“Isn’t your dad dead?” Morgan asks, eyebrows raised.

Kate nods, “Yeah but I saw him. On the other side!”. 

Morgan, and John look at each other in confusion, “You mean Heaven?!?” he asks.

“Plane of existence actually” she says, in a matter of fact tone.

“Okay, you really need to get some rest. You spent the last hour dead, and you lost way too much oxygen in that noggin of yours” Morgan says.

They help Kate stand up, and they take her to her room to lay down.

After helping her, Morgan leaves the room, leaving John and Kate alone together.

He lays next to her on the bed. He sighs, and says to her “I read that brown leathery notebook”.

She looks up at him, “What?!”.

“That notebook, the brown journal” he says, pointing to the bookshelf.

She sits up, and asks “What did you read from it?”.

He looks at her, “A little too much about you, and your family”.

Looking down at her hands, “Yep, that's my whole life, and before I was born written in that notebook by my dad”.

John gets up from the bed, grabs the notebook from the shelf, and sits back down on the bed. 

“My dad wrote this before my sister was even born. Every hunt he went on with his brother, or with an old friend, or any other relative, or friend. It’s all written in here”

She flips through the pages on the book, and sees the photo of her and Paige.

“I saw that photo earlier” John says while resting his head on her shoulder.

Kate chuckles, “I think I was 2 months old? A month in a half?. Maybe?”.

“I believe so” he says and looks over at her, “Sasha”.

She looks up from the notebook, and looks over the imaginary camera in her room. 

“What?!” she asks, acting like she doesn’t know what he’s talking about. 

He smirks at her, “Sasha Georgia Winchester”

She looks over at him with wide eyes.

“That was supposed to be your name” he says chuckling, padding her hand.

“Where did you find that info?!?’ she asks looking away from him.

He cocks his eyebrows at her, “From the notebook of course” he says sarcastically.

“Sasha Georgia?. That name wouldn’t have suited you” he adds, sighing. 

“Yeah I know. Katella Evyanna doesn’t suit me either” she says, looking down at the photo.

“Yes. It does” he says, disagreeing with her opinion, “It goes perfectly with you” he kisses the side of her head. 

Kate sighs, “If I had to choose my name, or if I wanted to change it, my name would be either Jenna, Saraya, Katherine, Daenerys, or Lacey”.

“If you were my daughter I would’ve named you Allison, Samantha, or Isabella” he tells her.

Kate smiles, “If I had a daughter I would name her Daenerys, Saraya, or Arya”.

“What kind of name is Daenerys?!” he asks, mispronouncing the name. Saying it as Dee-nay-ers.

“Day-nair-es. It’s the name of a character from my favorite tv show, Game of Thrones. She has bleach blonde hair that's in beautiful well done braids, and she has 3 dragons. She’s the Mother of Dragons”

“I’ve never seen it” he says, sitting back in her bed. 

“It’s a great show. I love it, season 1 of course is like watching porn” she says, making John chuckle.

“One scene some guy is getting his head cut off, and the next scene is some girl is getting fucked in the ass” she adds, laughing a little.

John chuckles again, and says in a lustful tone “What are you suggesting?” as he moves closer to her. His hand moving up her back. 

“I’m suggesting” she says, moving closer to him, “That we watch Game of Thrones”.

“Or we can do something else, while that plays in the background” he says, placing his hand on her thigh. 

Kate lets out a soft giggle, placing her hand over John’s, rubbing it gently.

He starts to nibble at her neck, then turns into light biting, then kissing. 

Kate moans softly at this, lifting her head to give him better access.

“You know I can hear you right?!?!!” Morgan yells out from the living room.

Making John stop for a moment, and Kate lets out a loud laugh.

*******************************************

Several months later, John and Kate are still together, after everything that had happened she had Castiel wipe John’s memories of Saleos possessing him, and everything that Kate had told him about demons, ghosts and everything related to what happened.

But his memories of that can be restored if Kate, and Kate only were to bring it up to him.

It’s August 5th, and it’s also Kate’s birthday, she is now 20 years old and is 1 week away from earning her Masters of Science degree in Psychology.

There was supposed to be a graduation ceremony, but with the Cult terrorizing the town, all the students who are graduating were to be given their degrees handed to them, or mailed to their residence.

She’s surprised she was able to keep her grades up for all 8 of her classes, and managed to keep her job. All at the same time.

Especially with her personal life going into the shitter. Well more like Hell. 

Her friends getting attacked by demons, her boyfriend getting possessed by a demon, forcefully being atone for her sins, exorcising the demon from her boyfriend, working cases, getting involved with a Cult, being dead for a whole hour, and meeting her dead father for the first time in her life.

Yep, that’s the life of a Winchester, and it couldn’t be any weirder. Fuck it, it can be if Chuck wanted it to be, or maybe let Gabriel make it weird for him.

To her surprise Kate got a call from her older sister Paige, whom she hadn’t heard from in months. She wished her a happy birthday, and mentioned that her and Kenneth are getting married in April of that following year. 

In regards to her birthday, John wanted Kate’s birthday to be special. 

He went the extra mile to make it a private ceremony/party for him and her.

Not really an extra mile, but fuck it. He loves her, and it’s her birthday and she earned her degree for being a Doctor.

Even though she doesn’t have her Doctorate Degree, and she’s technically not a Doctor yet, that's her next step.

John hired professional chefs to make them dinner, and dessert. 

He surprised her with expensive gifts. Expensive clothes, jewelry, shoes, and other miscellaneous items.

After dinner, and moving on to dessert. 

The chefs brought out a 3 layer red velvet cake with vanilla buttercream frosting, Kate’s favorite. She's not much of a chocolate fan. 

Halfway towards the end of dessert when the chefs cleaned up and left, leaving John and Kate alone.

That’s when he gives her his birthday gift.

He lifts her up, grabbing her ass, and lays her down on the kitchen counter.

His hand creeping up her dress, the other reaching over to the cake, and grabs a piece of it.

Having her lick the frosting off his fingers. Pushing them into her mouth.

“Happy birthday darlin” he says, as she licks his fingers clean. Sucking on them.

“Thank you” she moans, as he moves his hand away from her mouth.

He undoes his pants, and slowly removes her panties. Her bare ass touching the cold kitchen counter. He lifts her dress up, and rams his cock in her tight cunt. She cries out in pleasure, arching her back up. 

His hands holding her hips in place, he moves them up so he’s pinning her hands down.

Attacking her neck with kisses, and bites as he thrusts in and out of her. 

He lifts her up with one arm, and unzips her red dress from behind with the other.

Slowly moving the straps down, kissing her exposed soft skin. 

He removes her dress completely, dropping it to the floor, leaving her completely naked on his kitchen counter. Admiring her amazing body, licking his lips, the feral lust growing in his eyes.

John takes off his shirt, tossing it on the floor. Kissing her stomach, and curves. His fingers tracing the Lust scar on her chest.

“You’re so beautiful” he moans in between kisses, “So exquisite. You’re so perfect. You belong to me”.

His hands covering her breasts, kneading them as he moves down to her nether regions. 

Her breath shaking as he kisses her inner thighs, her fingers running through his hair. 

Slowly spreading her legs open, kissing her wet core. His body holding her legs open.

His beard tickling her thighs. He gives her a long, hard lick to her wetness.

Making her moan loudly, her stomach in knots.

“J-John” she whimpers.

“Hmm?” he hums as a response. 

“I want you. Please” she moans, “Please touch me”. 

He lifts his head up from her legs, their faces inches away from each other.

“It’s your birthday. What do you want?” he whispers into her ear. His hot breath giving her goosebumps.

“Fuck me. Please, fuck me” she begs him. Feeling her eyes getting watery. 

He smirks at her, finding her pleads for him to fuck her adorable.

“Anything in particular?” he whispers in a teasing manner, while moving her hair away from her face.

“Anything” she whimpers again. Her eyes looking so innocent, pleading him to fuck her. 

He chuckles, moving her hair away from her face. 

“You’re gonna be sore once I’m done with you” he chuckles, his voice filled with malicious yet lustful intentions.

He pulls her closer to him. Her bare ass dragging along the cold, marble counter.

He shoves his cock in her, fucking her so hard and so fast that she felt herself piss a little.

Like he punched her in the vagina with his dick.

Immediately hitting her G-spot over, and over again.

His movements are so fast that she can barely keep up with his pace. 

She couldn’t make any sounds because it took her by surprise, all she can do is look up at him, her mouth dropped open. Tears leaving her eye canals.

All of her moans, and screams trapped in her throat. 

John’s grunting grows louder, and louder by the second. Not once did he slow down, he practically fucked the wind out of Kate. 

She closes her eyes as he fucks her senseless, tears streaming down her face, his hands gripping her thighs move up to her chest. 

His mouth latches onto her right nipple, still keeping his fast pace.

Wrapping his arms around her as his mouth plays with his nipples. 

“John” she moans, her fingers tangled in his hair, “John”. 

He moans in response, tugging, and sucking at her nipples. 

“I love you” she moans, not realizing what she just said. 

He stops, her nipple in his mouth, he lifts his head from her breasts, and moves up to face her.

Those perfect blue eyes staring down at her brown eyes.

He looks her in the eyes, and says “I love you too”.

She smiles in response, tears streaming down her cheeks, wraps her arms around his neck, and kisses him deeply. 

His soft lips crashing against hers. Forcing his tongue into her mouth, wrestling with hers. 

“I love you so much” he moans against her lips. 

John wraps his arms around her, sitting her up on the counter.

He rests his forehead against hers, both of them out of breath. 

“You love me?” he asks, breathing heavily. His arms wrapped around her.

“Yes” she responds, “I love you”.

Trying to hold back his tears, “Say it again” he whispers, voice raspy. 

Kate smiles, “I love you John”. Running her hand through his beard. 

Biting his lip to keep the tears from falling, “One more time”. 

“I love you John Seed” she says again.

“I love you too Kate Winchester” he says, looking into her eyes. 

He pulls in her for another deep passionate kiss, lifts her up off the kitchen counter, and bridal carries her upstairs to his bedroom. All while kissing her, like it was their wedding day.

He drops her onto the bed, and he immediately starts to make love to her. 

Crashing his lips against hers. Desperate, and hungry for her, needing to be inside her. His hands tangled in her hair. His body pressed against hers, pinning her to the mattress. 

Kate wraps her legs around his waist pulling him closer to her, begging for him to be inside her. 

He pulls away, looking down at her while he thrusts in and out of her.

Watching her facial reactions as he fucks her. 

He places his left hand around her throat, making sure it’s not too tight. She lets out a loud pitchy moan, “Oh John”.

Burying his face in the crook of her neck, biting at it.

Moaning into her ear, “You were made for me. Your body knows how much you want me. Only I can make you feel this way, only I can make you feel this good”.

Moaning loudly into her ear, his breath giving her goosebumps. 

Kate feels his cock twitch inside her, and she prepares herself for his ejecutlation in her. 

He stops, slowly pulls out of her and sits on her chest. His knees on either side of her head.

His dick right in her face, just barely touching her nose.

She immediately knows what he wants, and she wants to hear him say it.

“You did a great job before” he says, biting his lip, "You know what to do". 

She takes a look at his cock, it's hard, pre-cum dripping out, and well trimmed like he planned all of this. 

Taking all of him in her mouth, his right hand holding her head. He lets out a loud raspy moan, thrusting himself in her mouth.

Pulling her head forward, making sure to get every inch of himself in her mouth.

Making her gag. His raspy moaning echoing off the walls as Kate sucks, and swirls her tongue around his cock.

The tip reaching back of her throat, making her gag once again.

He hisses as her tongue sucks along the vein.

Her hands creep down from his sides down to his balls.

Moaning her name several times in less than a minute that's how she knows he’s close.

Rocking his hips forward, fucking her throat.

She feels his cock twitch against her tongue as she sucks on it, and he holds her head in place.

Releasing his load into her mouth, down her throat.

He pulls himself out of her mouth, leaving drips of cum on her chin and chest.

“Since it’s your birthday” he pants, looking down at her all sweaty, out of breath, and God she finds it so fucking hot. 

Moving his wet hair away from his sweaty face.

The sweat shining off his toned, tatted and scarred up body.

“On your hands and knees” he orders her.

Kate does as she's told, and lays on her stomach with her ass in the air.

John positions himself behind her. Normally he would finger her, stretch her out a little but he wants her now, and doesn’t have the patience to tease her. His cock brushing her wet entrance.

He forces his cock into her tight cunt, digging his nails into her hips.

She cries out, moaning loudly at his sudden penetration. 

“Ohh darlin you’re so tight” he moans, picking up the pace. 

His cock deep inside her. Making her scream, moan and beg for him.

“John, fuck, John” she cries out, “Fuck me, shit fuck me”.

This is how John imagined it. How he imagined life with Kate. 

Her being his wife, the mother to his kids. Seeing this view whenever they have sex. 

The sight before him, Kate on her hands and knees with his cock buried deep inside her pussy, made him fuck her even harder. 

His faster, harder pace makes Kate go into tears.

“Fuck, fuck” he grunts as his movements speed up. His nails digging into her flesh.

Joseph was right. He was right about everything. He didn’t want to lose Kate, he loves her, and she loves him. 

They were meant to be together, when the Collapse happens everything will be in motion.

That’s when they make the next generation of the Winchester, Seed family. 

Going to the gates of Eden with Kate as his wife, and their children. 

Lost in his thoughts, Kate cumming on his cock, and her loud moaning snaps him back into reality. 

“John, John” she cries. A moaning sweaty mess underneath him. 

“Good girl” he moans while rocking her hips against his. 

She collapses on her side, John lays next to her. Holding her close in his arms.

“Best birthday ever” she says out of breath, before falling asleep. 

He chuckles, and kisses her temple. 

Falls asleep with her in his arms. Holding her close to him. 

[redeadepression]

hey!!! so i was curious because i’m a John hoe. how do you think John processes emotions? like we see how Arthur does, through his journal and everything. and even though John is played as through most of the red dead games, we don’t really see much of what’s going on inside his head. what do you think?

Hey, thanks for the question! I honestly love answering questions like this about John and also Arthur to an extent. So if anyone ever has anything they wanted to ask/curious about my opinions of the character etc. PLEASE feel free to drop me an ask. ❤

I write about John processing his emotions a lot in my fics. I definitely think he’s a lot more complicated than he lets on. His journal does give us a little glimpse into how he thinks. But we don’t have the opportunity to read his thoughts through many significant events like we do with Arthur so it’s only a little taste.

John grew up in a world full of toxic-masculinity. The ‘boys don’t cry’ mind-set was running rampant at the time. So I believe from a young age he was taught to suppress his emotions. If he couldn’t suppress them then he certainly needed to hide them. No one wants to see a male over 5 crying. 🙄

I think that while adult John has become somewhat of a master at suppressing most of his emotions... Anger and Rage are also emotions that he feels and expresses quite frequently. However at the time, they are socially acceptable emotions for a young man to feel so no one sees an issue with that behavior. 

Whenever he feels sad, depressed, anxious, lonely, frustrated etc, he pushes that deep down and eventually it erupts in fits of rage and aggression. This leads to impulsive violent behaviors that often end with him in more pain. Whether physical or emotional, doesn’t matter. He chokes it down and goes about his day until something else tips the scales and he repeats the cycle of:

pain, suppress, anger, violence, pain, suppress, anger, violence.... etc.

People can only suppress so much pain before it bubbles to the surface and meaningless violence isn’t exactly a healthy outlet or really a proper outlet at all. Especially for emotional hurt. 

So eventually, after enough repeats of this cycle OR a significant emotionally draining event (i.e spending time in Prison, Being left for dead by his Father-figure) he would break down. Generally in private but sometimes his closest friends or his S/O can be witness to it. Since this breakdown tends to last a few days it can be hard to hide. But he has the good sense to at least spend most of it alone in his tent/room. He finds it hard to get out of bed, if he’s being honest. He barely eats. He cries a lot. Like, opened the floodgates, can’t stop kind of crying. He jumps from his starting point to anywhere throughout his life and basically cries about everything he’s ever suppressed or not processed properly before then. 

(we’ve all been there haven’t we? You start crying about something legit like the death of a pet and before you know it, it’s 4am and you’re blubbering about that time in Grade 3 when you got detention for not eating your sandwich and the other kids made fun of you.) No? just me? Cool cool cool cool no doubt no doubt....

Sometimes an S/O’s presence can help and can actually pull him from his depressive episode more quickly than he could work through it himself. But more often than not, the embarrassment he feels as being so ‘weak’ just adds to his negative state of mind so he prefers to suffer alone. It depends on the S/O and how close they are. How kind and reassuring they are of these emotions he suddenly can’t help. Eg. We all know I love Abigail but I don’t exactly see early game Abi being a pillar of strength for this man that is suddenly breaking apart in front of her. Epilogue Abigail, sure! 

Once John manages to work through his breakdown and starts to feel himself again. He immediately goes back to suppressing any kind of negative emotion that isn’t anger. He can be a little more fragile for a few days after he’s started to interact with everyone again but he won’t let it show. He might take an jab to heart more than he would have under normal circumstance but the hurt that comes with that is locked down deep inside until the next time it all gets too much and bubbles to the surface.

pain, suppress, anger, violence on an infinite loop until it suddenly branches off and leads to breakdown once again.

~~~

I would also like to say that while I didn’t talk about it much here, I think that child/teen John had a lot of trouble suppressing his emotions and the reason he is, the way that he is as an adult is because crying or feeling anything other than happiness and anger was beaten (both emotionally and physically depending on the person) out of him hard.

TW: Self-Harm

Also I believe John uses some very unhealthy coping mechanisms to help with the suppression of his emotions. Including, alcohol, drugs (which were all legal back then), sex and self-harm. I’ve written about the self-harm aspect of it in the past. You can read about it here if you are interested and haven’t already. 

I hope my answer was what you were looking for or at the very least satisfied your curiosity about my opinion. :)

[flamehairedwritings]

The Fire In Your Eyes: Chapter Nine

Characters: Arthur Morgan x Original Female Character

Rating: The whole series will be E, 18+ ONLY for violence, gore, character deaths, animal deaths, parent deaths, swearing, grief, sexual themes and unprotected sex.

Summary: Saved by Arthur Morgan when her town is attacked, a young woman’s past comes back to haunt her when she has no choice but to join the Van der Linde Gang.

Read on AO3

The Fire In Your Eyes Masterlist

Please don’t copy, steal or re-post my work; credit does not count.

By The Light of the Silvery Moon

Arthur, John and Dutch were gone for the rest of the day. Nothing to usually be concerned about, but she’d overheard Hosea talking with Abigail, saying they’d gone to see Angelo Bronte to get Jack back.

Angelo fucking Bronte. To fucking get Jack back.

She couldn’t believe Arthur had gone with her. He should have left with John, he should have been running to help them get Jack, but instead he’d gone with her to do something they could’ve done when there were slightly less pressing matters to attend to. Why the hell had he gone with her? No matter what way she thought about it she couldn’t wrap her head around it. One minute she was incensed, the next she was touched, the next she was mortified, the next she was just plain confused. She’d considered that maybe it wasn’t that strong a lead, but immediately shot herself down, almost laughing, with the fact that none of those men would leave without Jack, no matter what.

Sadie found her, almost mumbling to herself, frowning at the water from where she sat on the jetty after dinner.

“Somethin’ on your mind, lady?” Sadie said, taking a seat beside her with a groan.

Ada exhaled a breath and shook her head. “No, just...”

Now hang on a minute...

This was something she could talk with Sadie about without divulging any information about herself.

Thank God because if I don’t talk to someone about it I will go insane.

Licking her lips, she looked at her. “Arthur came with me to visit Sean’s grave earlier.”

“... Yeah?” Sadie prompted when she just stared at her, arching an eyebrow.

Ada shook her head slightly, her hands palms up. “He came with me when he’d just told John that Dutch was in Saint Denis and they were planning on getting Jack, today, now.”

“Yeah?”

“Sadie,” she paused to let out an incredulous laugh, “... He came with me to Sean’s grave instead of going to rescue Jack. He prioritised coming with me rather than getting Jack, it’s insane, I don’t understand it.”

Sadie looked at her. Then she burst into laughter. Ada pulled her head back, staring at her.

Maybe I’m not the only one going insane.

“Excuse me, what the hell is so funny?” she demanded as Sadie grinned, a hand over her stomach.

“Dear Lord, my sweet summer child,” she laughed, rubbing her stomach. “You sweet thing...”

“What?” Ada demanded again.

Her chuckles subsiding, Sadie fixed her gaze on her, amusement dancing across her features. “Annie, that man likes you.”

Ada stared.

Now that was one option she hadn’t quite entertained, because...

“No. No. No.” She shook her head, pulling a slight face as she looked back at the water. “No, that’s... No, he can’t.”

“He ain’t that disgustin’, is he?” Sadie laughed.

“No, no, it’s not that...” Far fucking from it. “It’s just... He can’t.” She nearly implored Sadie as she said it, nearly begged. Because he couldn’t. Any way she thought about it, he just couldn’t. She had an undecided death wish against his adopted father, she was Michael O’Driscoll’s daughter, Colm O’Driscoll’s niece, she, well, she was her, she was just Ada, it didn’t make any sense.

And it completely complicated things.

“Whatever you say, honey,” Sadie chuckled. “But I know infatuation when I see it, so you’re either callin’ me dumb or you’re just in denial.”

“Infatuation...” she breathed the word, half-laughed again.

This wasn’t part of any plan. Not that she had a plan. But this certainly wasn’t part of it. Yes, he was kind to her and he was nice and considerate and he made her laugh and feel safe and respected but he only did that because... Well, there was no sane reason for it. Other than that he... Well, no, there was a sane reason; he was a good man.

Sadie just watched her, smiling. “You think any harder about it I think your brain’s gonna fall out. Just relax, woman. Just take a chance, if you like him, which I think you do. It ain’t no bad thing.”

Oh, but yes it is.

“Hang on, you think I like him?” she asked.

“Like I said, I know infatuation.” Sadie nudged her with her elbow. “Just relax. Live your life. Take all the good things that come, Annie, you know we ain’t been gettin’ many of ‘em.”

Well, she wasn’t wrong there. But a whole lot of catastrophic badness could come from this.

If there was ever a time to start drinking.

“Hey, do you think we—”

A woman screamed. Both of them were on their feet in seconds, staring towards the main path, three riders cantering down it.

Then they realised it was a delighted scream.

Glancing at each other, they ran for the house.

Dutch, John and Arthur came through the darkness, pulling their horses to an abrupt halt, and Susan gave another delighted cry, clapping her hands together, though Ada didn’t quite know why she was so—

“Hey, they’re back!” Uncle called out, rising from the log he’d been sitting on. “I... I think I see Jack!”

Ada’s heart stopped as she and Sadie slowed as the rest of the group convened. And he was right. There the sweet boy was, sat with his father.

“Abigail!” Dutch called out, a wide smile on his face. “Abigail! We got you your son, everything—”

“We got him!” John cut in with a grin as he saw Abigail. “He’s fine!”

“Mama!” Jack shouted, grinning and looking so like his father.

Abigail cried out as she ran through the group, tears falling down her cheeks as she beamed. John dismounted and lifted Jack out of the saddle, putting him on the ground as he continued, “I’m fine, Mama, they fed me good, Italian food. You ever eat that?”

“Come here, you silly boy,” she wept as she fell to her knees and pulled him into her arms.

Ada closed her eyes for a few moments as she listened to them.

Thank God. Thank God.

She didn’t even want to think about what would have happened had something happened to the boy.

“Now let’s celebrate!” Dutch cried, and for once she was happy to obey.

Dismounting, Arthur watched as Abigail cried and cried and held her son as he babbled on about what a great time he’d had while they’d all been pulling their hair out.

Meeting Bronte had been... Well, he was certainly a different kettle of fish. He was a new kind of criminal, one that operated in broad daylight, had a fancy home on a fancy street, everyone knew what he was doing and no one dared to stop him. He’d caught Dutch’s admiring gaze, at both the house and the man who owned it. Arthur didn’t like any of it.

He thought about what he’d written in his journal while he’d waited for them all to join him at Shady Belle.

‘I cannot decide which I like less, the swamps or the city. Both are full of parasites, reptiles and slime. We’re a long way east of land we know, and far from real open country.’

How he longed for fields and wide open spaces where you didn’t meet anyone for miles.

He also didn’t like how easily Bronte had got them to do his bidding, but, well... Then again he did have Jack. But, he was back now and that was all that mattered. For now. Pushing his hands into his pockets, he followed the rest of the group to the main camp fire. Ada, Sadie’s arm looped through her’s as they walked along, looked back at him and gave a wide smile. It warmed his chest as he smiled, inclining his head. He wanted to speak to her but Hosea appeared at his side, clapping him on the back and asking for every detail on Angelo Bronte.

Javier was already tuning his guitar and starting to strum out a tune as people opened crates and passed around beer and whisky bottles, taking seats on whatever they could or standing and swaying to the music. Dropping their arms, Sadie sat on the log as Ada stood, folding her arms and smiling as she watched the group. This was when they were at their best; singing, happy, sharing alcohol, not a care in the world because they had this win, despite what would face them once against tomorrow.

“For you.” Lifting her head, Lenny smiled at her as he offered her an open bottle of whisky.

She raised an eyebrow as she smiled. “You know I don’t drink.”

“Come on, girl,” Uncle chimed in from where he sat beside Sadie. “We’re celebratin’ ain’t we? One won’t hurt.”

Glancing at him, Sadie and Lenny, she sighed and accepted the bottle. “Fine, fine, if it’ll get you all off my back...”

Raising the bottle to her lips, she took a sip... and instantly nearly choked on it. She managed to swallow it down as they laughed, pulling a face and hissing through her teeth as the amber liquid burned down her throat.

“Oh, God... Oh my God, that’s awful...”

Sadie cackled as she took the bottle from her, shaking her head. “Well, hey, at least you tried it.”

“Yeah, and I’ll never try it again.” Ada coughed, still cringing at the taste. “Does anyone have any water?”

Charles handed her a skin of water, a smile tugging at his lips, as Sadie laughed again.

“You’re all awful,” Ada declared before taking a large sip of water, washing the taste out of her mouth.

“Awh, I’m proud of ya,” Sadie grinned, patting her leg as she handed the skin back to Charles.

“I absolutely despise you.”

Sadie’s cackle was soon drowned out by the sound of Javier striking up a new, rousing tune that they all around the fire began to sing with him. Ada watched them all, folding her arms as she coughed again. She couldn’t help but smile, though. At their very best.

Her gaze travelled them, going from person to person, until it reached Pearson’s wagon, Micah and Bill talking beside it, drinking, and a foot or so away, leaning against a table, Arthur.

“Ay, ay, ay, ay!” the group yelled out, raising their chosen drinks at the apparent chorus of the song, as she moved over to him, smiling lightly.

He raised his eyebrows as she approached, returning her smile.

“Well, that was entertainin’ to witness.”

She snorted. “I’m sure it was. I’m so grateful to have so many friends around for that rite of passage.”

“It grows on you.”

She wrinkled her freckled nose. “I don’t think I want it to.” She looked him over as he chuckled. “How was it, getting him back?” she asked, her voice lowered.

He shrugged, taking a breath. “Easy enough. We just had to sort out somethin’ for Bronte, nothin’ too bad. That was it.”

Her eyebrows rose slightly. “That’s extremely fortunate.”

“Yes, it was.”

She could sense that troubled and perplexed him as much as it did her and she opened her mouth to ask more when Karen’s voice suddenly cut across Javier’s ending song.

“Annie! Come ‘nd sit with me, Annie, c’mere.” Karen, who had started drinking even before Jack had returned home, gestured her over, patting the chair next to her that had just been vacated by Pearson.

Ada met Arthur’s gaze, a smile pulling at her lips. “Excuse me.”

He smiled as he watched her do as she was bade, sweeping her skirt out under herself as she sat. Like a proper lady.

 Karen slapped her hands onto her knees as Ada sat, squinting her eyes a little. “How come you ain’t married, Annie? You’re so pretty, I bet you’ve had suitors at least, you must’ve.”

Ada’s eyebrows rose slightly as she glanced between the women watching her intently and a few of the men taking the time to drink.

“Well, I did have a couple when I was younger, yes, but nothing came of them.”

“Awh, you didn’t love ‘em?”

Ada smiled lightly as she shook her head, her hands in her lap. “No, I didn’t.”

"Are you a romantic, Annie?” Mary-Beth asked with a smile, her lovely face slightly flushed from the alcohol.

“Not particularly.” She shrugged, playing with the material of her skirt. “I declined them more out of practicality, they had nothing to offer.”

Karen released a laugh, raising her bottle to her lips. “That’s my girl.”

“How’d they court you?” Mary-Beth leaned forward slightly.

“Ah,” Ada waved a hand. “The usual, flowers, mediocre poetry, asking to dance with me when we had town dances.”

“Oh, that’s so nice,” Mary-Beth beamed.

 “Not particularly.” She went on as Mary-Beth looked puzzled, “It just made me uncomfortable because I knew it wasn’t real, they didn’t mean it. It felt performative.”

Karen laughed again. “Jesus, God help the man who tries to charm you.”

“Amen to that.” Glancing up, Ada met Sadie’s twinkling gaze, raising her eyebrows.

Ada’s lips twitched as she shook her head, looking into the fire.

Hell... Yeah, God help him.

The conversation seemed to be over when Karen began to sing along with Javier, laughing at nearly every line. She wished she could join in. They always sang songs she’d never heard of, ones that Ada didn’t think anyone would dare write, ones that were gently sweet, and some she couldn’t understand because of the language they were in. But it was entertainment enough to see Karen, Tilly, Mary-Beth, Susan, Uncle and Lenny sing along, as drunk as they were. It was the only time Susan and Karen got along, too.

She laughed and clapped her hands along to the music, though, as Uncle and Mary-Beth danced together to the fast tune, laughing themselves. It tugged at her heart a little, the happiness.

God, I wish Sean was here.

Her throat suddenly dry, she stood and moved behind the chairs to Pearson’s wagon, needing a drink.

“You and I should go out for a drink in Saint Denis sometime, I promise not to lose you this time,” she heard Arthur say to Lenny, clapping him on the shoulder.

“Oh, God, Arthur, I think not,” the young man replied, laughing even as he pulled a face.

Arthur chuckled, patting him on the back before he saw her at the wagon. Moving back over to it, she lifted a skin of water.

“Can I offer you a water, too?”

“Sure.” As joyful as the night was, he just didn’t feel like drinking the hard stuff.

He took the skin from her as they both leaned back against the table, watching the revellers by the fire.

“You’re not going to ask anyone to dance?” she asked, a smile pulling at her lips.

He huffed out a laugh. “I ain’t much of a dancer.”

“Maybe I could teach you sometime.”

Glancing at her and her smirk, he arched an eyebrow as he took a sip of water, handing it back to her. “Oh, you’re that good are you?”

“So I’ve been told.”

“By one of your many suitors?”

Her smirk widened as she shrugged. “Yes. And many others.”

“How lucky we are to have you, Miss Sawyer.”

She laughed, and he looked at her, the little lines that appeared at the corners of her eyes as she did, the curves of her nose and lips, the curls that framed her face.

Ask her to dance.

She looked up at him and opened her mouth to say something when she suddenly looked beyond him, frowning slightly. Following her gaze, he saw Dutch striding out from behind the ladies’ wagon, Molly following close behind him. Neither looked happy.

“Oh, Christ...” he muttered as he straightened, already knowing what was about to come.

“You have ruined my life!” Molly yelled at Dutch, the music and singing luckily keeping the group occupied. Or they were just too polite to stare. Or used to it.

“I see things differently,” Dutch shot back, lighting himself a cigar.

“I’m sure ye do.” Molly sounded drunk, and close to tears. “Ye see everythin’ differently.” She sniffed then shook her head fiercely, halting. “Just leave me alone, ye bastard.”

Dutch just continued on, smiling and joining the group as if nothing was amiss.

"Are they all right?” Ada asked Arthur quietly.

“Nah,” Arthur sighed. “Haven’t been for some time.”

She followed him as he rounded the corner of the house, watching to make sure Molly actually made it inside. She did, tripping on the side-door step slightly, unaware of both of them watching. Shaking his head, Arthur continued to walk along the side of the house, Ada beside him.

“Why doesn’t she leave?” she asked, her voice lowered.

“Where would she go?” He gripped his belt, shaking his head. “She ain’t got nobody else. Like all of us.”

She frowned. “But to be this unhappy, though? Rather than free?”

His jaw moved slightly as he exhaled a breath. “You gotta have money to do that. Molly’s money is Dutch’s money and he don’t give her much if any ‘cause she don’t contribute. Better to be unhappy and secure, she probably thinks.”

“That’s so sad,” she murmured.

“I guess.”

She didn’t want to dwell on the tricky topic, though, not tonight, not when they’d just got Jack back safely. Clasping her hands behind her back as they wandered across the grass at the back of the house, her eyebrows rose a little.

“So, Saint Denis is an interesting place.”

Arthur chuckled, grateful for the change in topic. “Yeah. Could be some business to be made.”

“With street urchins?”

“Christ, don’t bring that up again,” he muttered.

She smiled broadly. “It’s not often I see you flustered, Arthur Morgan—”

“I was not flustered.”

“Rattled, then.”

“I was not rattled—”

“Shaken. Traumatised. Overcome.”

“I was none of those things,” he muttered. “I was just faintly surprised. The kids were a second or two quicker.”

“I think age is catching up to you.”

He snorted. They came to the small fishing shed that sat at the back of the property, Arthur slowing to let her move up the steps first. He followed her along the wooden walkway that wrapped around it and moved out onto the back landing. She exhaled a slow breath as she leaned back against the shed, her arms folding across her chest. The lights of Saint Denis shone in the distance, beckoning and welcoming.

“It’s so bright,” she murmured as Arthur leaned his hip against a barrel, raising his gaze to the lights.

“Yeah, and loud, and busy.”

She smiled. “You just don’t like people at all, do you?”

He glanced at her. “Not particularly.” She was certain he was mocking her earlier words.

“Another sign of age.”

“I am not gettin’ old, I just have my preferences.”

“That’s exactly what an old man would say.”

“Will you shut up? I’m tryin’ to enjoy this joyful night.”

She laughed, shaking her head. “You are a bossy man, Mr Morgan.”

He looked at her, raising his eyebrows. “Am I?”

She lifted her chin, nodding. “Yes. Extremely. Been bossing me around since the moment we met.”

“Why’d you agree to come with me, then, in Strawberry?”

“Lesser of two evils.”

He chuckled, shaking his head.

Her gaze lingered on him as they fell silent, biting at her lower lip. She liked their silences, liked how comfortable they were but... It always gave an opportunity. An opportunity to ask one of the hundreds of questions she had, the comfort and ease they shared in each other’s company making it always seem like the right time to ask.

“Arthur?”

“Yeah?”

His gaze returned to hers. She shifted her position against the shed, her hands behind her back.

“Colm said you were going to leave me. That you tried to escape.”

He blinked, shifting his own stance slightly. Now how long had she been thinking about that? 

“I didn’t know what I was doin’. Half outta my mind, I think.” He inhaled a breath, shaking his head. “I thought I could hear Ophelia close by and I thought if I got to her then I could go to get help, but then I didn’t want to leave you with them.”

She was quiet again, and he could practically see the thoughts rolling around in her mind.

“Why did you come for me after, when we were at that farm, when you’d escaped from the cellar?"

“Ain’t we already talked about this?” He exhaled a laugh. “You really have such a hard time believin’ I can do the right thing sometimes?”

She smiled lightly. “It’s not that, I just... you barely knew me. We meant nothing to each other. You could have gotten yourself away with no trouble at all and not wasted the last of your energy. I would’ve no longer been your responsibility, then.”

He chuckled, shaking his head. “You either have a hard time believin’ I can do the right thing, or that someone would do somethin’ right for you.”

She scoffed, opening her mouth and closing it. Well... Now... Agreeing to either one of those... was just going to lead to complicated conversations that she certainly didn’t want to have.

He watched her, slightly flustered as she was. He decided to help her out, shrugging a shoulder as he looked out across the water. 

“Either way, I’d do it again.”

She looked at him, a slight fluttering in her chest. Lord, she needed answers.

“You went with me today, too.”

He glanced at her, pausing. “Yeah.”

She licked her lips. “You went with me instead of going to get Jack.”

She couldn’t read his features. “Yeah?”

God, is anyone sure he and Sadie aren’t related.

She lifted a hand, probably looking as helpless as she felt. “Well, I don’t understand why, Arthur.”

He studied her, silence stretching between them.

“You wanna know why I saved you and why I went with you?”

She nodded a few times, her gaze locked on his. “Yes.”

“Because you’re the most irritatin’ woman I’ve ever met.”

She blinked, her head pulling back slightly. “Excuse me?”

He pushed away from the barrel, beginning to move closer to her.

“You’re irritatin’ and stubborn, difficult to read and understand, sometimes a damn fool and I couldn’t bear the thought of leavin’ you behind. ”

She stared at him, her heart beginning to beat a little faster as he approached, his voice lowering.

“And I can’t stop thinkin’ about you. You make me feel somethin’, Ada. Most of the time it’s annoyance but sometimes it’s somethin’ else.”

She laughed, the sound short and breathy. “You really know how to charm a lady, don’t you?”

He smiled and placed his hand on the wood beside her head, and it made her heart stutter. “You prefer I was like one of your suitors? Bringin’ you flowers and writin’ pretty poetry?”

Her lips twitched at the thought. “I’d like to see you give it a try.”

He tilted his head. “You ain’t one of them girls, though, are you, Miss Adaline? You’re a practical woman, if I remember rightly."

Oh, God, his voice...

“What can you offer me, then, Mr Morgan?” she murmured, her head leaning back against the shed.

“Nothin’.”

She thought she saw his eyes, possibly, briefly, drop down her body.

“Good, because I don’t want anything from a scoundrel like you.”

“Yes, you do,” he murmured, his thumb brushing over one of her curls.

“What could I possibly—”

Dipping his head, he caught her lips in a kiss. Her words vanished with a soft sound as she paused, her eyes automatically falling shut. The sweetness of the kiss caught her more by surprise than the actual act. Maybe because she had wanted him to kiss her.

Just as she went to move her hand to his shoulder, it suddenly ended, and his head was drawing back as she blinked her eyes open.

Gone was the easy, arrogant manner he’d had only seconds before, now he looked entirely apologetic.

“I’m sorry, that—”

She exhaled a sharp breath.

“For Christ’s sake, Arthur...”

Her hand slid around to the back of his neck and she pulled him close again, claiming his lips this time in a firmer kiss. She had to rise up on her toes to actually meet his lips, and her other hand gripped his shoulder to steady herself. He wasn’t moving.

Oh, Lord, had she now made the mistake?

Why—

His arm wrapped around her waist and pulled her tight against him, eliciting a faint sound from the back of her throat that had him pressing his fingers into her side. As his lips moved against hers, he lowered his head and pressed her against the wood, their bodies flush. Her lips parted wider with a gasp when his tongue swept across her lower lip.

Nobody had ever kissed her like this before. Her previous kisses had been, well, like the previous kiss, gentle and sweet, but she didn’t want gentle and sweet.

She wanted this.

She could faintly taste whisky on his tongue as it stroked against hers, he had possibly had one drink earlier when she hadn’t seen, and he was right... she could grow used to the taste. His grip around her was firm, and his other hand had moved to cup her jaw, his thumb stroking along her cheekbone. And the way he kissed... how did anybody ever learn how to kiss like this? Oh, Christ, she didn’t want to think about that right now.

She just hoped she wasn’t terrible.

What if I am?

Why was she so in her head?

Stop it—

Another gasp was suddenly pulled from her when she felt his hands on the outsides of her thighs, and he lifted her, her skirt rising to her knees, stepping between her parted legs and holding her against the wooden wall. The kiss had broken with the action, and she couldn’t stop the breathless smile that broke across her lips as she gazed down at him, one arm wrapped around his neck, the other hand on his chest. One corner of his mouth lifted higher than the other as he held her gaze.

There was his fire. Blazing brightly, joyfully.

“I told you that smart mouth was gonna get you in trouble, Miss Ada,” he drawled, his voice rougher, lower, and it sent the most delicious of feelings through her.

“You really are a dumb man if you think it was unintentional,” she answered, in barely above a whisper, not quite knowing where her voice had gone.

“Still won’t shut up, huh?”

“I think you made a valiant effort but—”

She was made to break off, once again, when his lips touched her neck. Her breathing halted for a moment as he began to press slow, open-mouthed kisses to her skin, her mouth remaining open as her eyes closed.

Oh, sweet Lord...

Warmth began to pool between her legs and her fingers itched to soothe the slow throbbing that accompanied it.

What would Arthur’s fingers feel like?

She moaned. It was quiet, but it was most definitely a moan; that they could have both agreed upon. They probably could have both agreed upon the fact that he growled in return.

His tongue swept over her skin, briefly, but it caused another moan.

What would his tongue feel like, too?

He shifted his stance slightly, pressing a little closer against her and... She could feel his erection pressing against her thigh.

Oh, my God...

What would his cock feel like?

“Finally got you quiet, huh,” he murmured, just under her jaw, and she inhaled sharply.

“Technically not quiet,” she breathed.

“And I don’t mind at all.”

Her fingers curled into the hair at the nape of his neck as she tilted her head down, prompting him to lift his own.

“Kiss me,” she murmured.

And without another word he did. It was urgent and firm and all she could feel and taste was him. All she wanted was—

“Ring-dang do..."

He had her back on her feet in seconds. Smoothing her blouse down and hoping she didn’t look as flushed as she felt, she turned and moved away from him, before wrapping an arm around her waist as she pressed the fingers of her other hand against her lips.

And she had to fight very hard to stop a smile.

“... ringer-danger... Dang...”

Arthur cleared his throat from somewhere behind her. Not quite able to tear his gaze from her yet, he tugged his waistcoat down, and hoped his hard cock wasn’t showing too prominently through his trousers. Running his hand through his hair, he leaned back against the barrel once more and exhaled a breath, finally looking away.

Kieran rounded the corner, his feet heavy on the wooden boards, his shoulders slumped. Looking up, he stopped singing,

“Oh, hey... Hey, Arthur...” His drunken gaze drifted over to Ada. “... Oh, Annie, hey...”

Ada turned, her arms folded and a light smile on her lips. “Hello.”

“Sorry, I, I thought this was the other shed, I’ve been, I sleep in there, sometimes.”

Arthur pointed behind Kieran, gripping his gun belt. “That’s back that way, pal.”

“Oh, right, thank you...” He looked between them both, then laughed suddenly, and it was the first time she’d ever seen him smile. “I am really drunk,” he continued, grinning.

Arthur couldn’t stop a slightly bemused smile himself, his eyebrows raising. “That you are. Some sleep will do you right.”

Kieran nodded, still laughing even as he turned to head back the way he came. “Yeah... Ring, dang... Dang do~...”

Ada watched Kieran stagger off, hoping he wouldn’t fall down the steps and fall straight into the mud. Then, her gaze returned to Arthur. His eyes were already locked back on her. Her near-giddy smile from before returned.

“Don’t look so pleased with yourself, Arthur Morgan.”

“You bossin’ me about now?”

“Yeah, I think you like it.”

He chuckled. “I think I do.”

They looked at each other, the need and want still there, but the moment gone. She could feel the flush on her cheeks and the wetness between her thighs as she bit at her lower lip. He took a breath and cleared his throat.

“It’s getting late.”

“Yes, it is.”

He nodded towards the house.

“I’ll walk you to your stand.”

“How kind.”

“I heard there’s a scoundrel about.”

She laughed, the giddy, almost nervous energy still spreading through her as she moved across the planks to the stairs. She could practically feel his eyes on her back. A lesser or weaker man would have grabbed her again and just carried right on, but... It was almost more arousing that he didn’t. 

But why wasn’t he? Oh, stop, it’s the sensible thing to do, you idiot.

They walked in silence, Ada playing with her hands and feeling like a teenager, Arthur willing his erection to go away quicker as his hands gripped his belt, hoping that would aid in covering it somewhat should someone pass them. But no one did, all too busy still dancing and drinking and singing or sleeping.

He wanted to kiss her again, to feel her against him once more but he’d already pushed his luck and gotten gold. No, he’d be a damn gentleman and show some restraint.

They slowed as they neared her stand, and she turned to him, a pink flush on her cheeks and a warm twinkle of fire in her eyes, a smile on her lips.

“Goodnight, Arthur.”

“Goodnight, Miss Sawyer.”

He watched her walk the rest of the way to the stand.

God damn. Holy shit.

Running his hand down his mouth, he shook his head at himself, heading towards the house. Tomorrow. Tomorrow, he’d think about the consequences. Now, he’d think about what a damn lucky man he was.

Ada woke slowly, one arm wrapped around her pillow. She guessed it must either be 8 or 9 in the morning, though camp was still quiet, people either sleeping off the alcohol or taking advantage of the general good mood to have a lie-in. Turning onto her back, a smile was instantly tugging at her lips, as if the memory of the night before was just waiting for her to wake up so she could relive it all over again.

  She had never felt like that before. She’d been aroused before, sure, when she’d conjured images in her mind of the brave heroes in her books, but never had it been like last night. Last night had been... She couldn’t even begin to describe it. It had been something good, something that had felt right...

Get some breakfast and coffee in you before you become a giddy girl again.

Pushing her blanket off, she pushed herself up onto her knees and stretched with a gentle groan. To her right at the small camp fire was Charles and Lenny, the former having a cup of coffee, the latter fast asleep. John was stood guard at the front entrance, probably because he was the most sober person to take a watch, surprisingly. Then again, he’d gone straight upstairs with Abigail and Jack once they’d begun to celebrate. She smiled at the thought of their quiet, private reunion as a family. Casting her gaze further along to the main camp fire, she saw the girls were up, probably due to Susan not allowing them a lie-in despite everything. Sadie was there, too, sipping from a cup. Lifting her head, she met Ada’s gaze and waved. Ada waved back, her smile widening.

She’ll laugh so hard she’ll probably choke when I tell her about it. Can’t wait for the ‘I told you so’.

Rising to her feet, she pulled her boots on and made her way over.

Karen sat with her head in her hands, taking long, slow breaths. Mary-Beth looked a bit bedraggled, sipping her coffee every few seconds and staring at the fire. Tilly had her eyes closed, a bowl of uneaten porridge in her hands. Sadie was the only alive looking one, cleaning the rifle that lay across her lap.

“Good mornin’!” she greeted Ada cheerfully, making the other girls snap out of their dazes and look up, smiling weakly.

“Good morning,” Ada replied, just as cheerily.

“Coffee?”

“Yes, please.”

Sadie handed her a full cup as she sat, wrapping her hands around it. “Mmh, thank you.”

“You’re welcome.” Catching Sadie’s eye, she just smiled as the older woman gave her a very knowing look.

“Where’s Arthur off to in a hurry?” Tilly croaked, her throat stripped dry by alcohol and singing.

Ada’s head whipped to the side and they all watched as he strode down the porch steps, past the fountain and to Ophelia, mounting quickly and urging her onto the road and down the main path. Ada frowned as Karen groaned.

“I hope it’s nothin’, I don’t wanna deal with anythin’ today.”

“Nah, he just got a letter from Mary,” Mary-Beth said, her voice almost as hoarse as Tilly’s.

Ada paused.

A relative?

"How do you know?” Tilly said.

Mary-Beth sniffed, massaging her temple. “Herr Strauss went out early this mornin’ to see if we had any mail. I asked who had mail, I’m expectin’ some nice writin’ paper, and he said Arthur and Pearson did. I recognised Mary’s handwritin’ on the letter.”

“You gotta stop bein’ such a stalker, Mary-Beth.”

“Who’s Mary?” Ada asked as nonchalantly as she could, having had to stop herself from cutting Tilly off.

Mary-Beth dropped her hand into her lap after shooting a look at Tilly. “He and Mary used to be an item years ago, they were engaged at one point. Then it just broke off.”

A coldness prickled down her spine.

“Why?”

“She doesn’t like all of this, wanted him to change, and her daddy didn’t like him. I think he still loves her, though.” Mary-Beth pulled a face. “I think she’s mean for usin’ that, though. Keepin’ pullin’ him back, givin’ him hope whenever she needs help with somethin’.”

“I think I’m gonna be sick,” Karen mumbled, pushing herself up and stumbling towards the nearest tree.

Tilly and Mary-Beth were too busy turning away and tutting at Karen to notice Ada staring at her hands, still. Sadie looked at her, her lips pressed together a little.

“Don’t think anythin’ of it,” she murmured gently so only she could hear.

Ada just nodded, taking a sip of her coffee. It shouldn’t have irked her as much as it did. She didn’t want anything serious from him, that’s what she’d said the night before and that’s what she’d meant, but if she was interfering in something...

Arthur was gone most of the day.

It didn’t bother her.

She told herself that only until the third hour.

Having taken over Javier’s watch, she stood on the outer south edge of the property, slowing pacing up and down the thin dirt path. If she wasn’t thinking about someone’s happiness she could potentially be ruining then she was thinking about the kiss. Should she have allowed it?

Oh, hell, stop lying to yourself, woman, you wanted it.

He’d known it, he’d plain seen it and said it. And she had enjoyed it.

For a man who was often boorish and bad-tempered, his hands had been... gentle. His lips had felt wonderful. What was this man caging inside of himself? Why hadn’t she seen this side of him before? Why wasn’t he wandering off every other night to the nearest saloon like some of the men did? Was he saving himself for this Mary, hoping she’d change her mind, and she and the kiss last night had just been an error? Maybe he had had more whisky than she thought, maybe he’d had quite a few when she hadn’t been looking.

God, she missed Sean. She would have loved to talk with him, or even be distracted, and he would have wanted to distract. He would have made everything seem so simple and that it wasn’t serious and she was a fool for over-thinking it and Arthur was just a fool, besides she was getting ahead of herself, she didn’t even know why he’d gone to see this Mary, maybe it was nothing at all—

She turned and stopped abruptly. Arthur was approaching, his hands on his belt, smiling. It made her heart stop.

“Hello,” she greeted him lightly.

“Hey,” he answered, a knowing smile on his lips. 

God, why did that make her stomach clench in the most delicious of ways.

“You have a nice time in town?” she said swiftly, needing to distract herself.

Arthur blinked slightly in surprise. Shit, she wasn’t really meant to know he was in town.

“Yeah, thanks,” he said after a moment. “I saw an old friend.”

Now that surprised her. She hadn’t expected him to be so open about it. Most men would keep past loves a secret, especially if they’d just been to see them. Especially if they were talking to a woman they’d kissed the night before.

“Oh, really?”

“Yeah, but I got a feelin’ you already knew that.”

“Oh?” was all she could think to say.

He nodded, tilting his head. “Yeah.”

She licked her lips then exhaled. “Fine, I do know who you were seeing. Mary-Beth told me and the girls.”

He seemed to consider something. “... Are you jealous?”

She scoffed slightly, looking down at the ground then back to him, a faint smile on her lips. “No, Arthur, I’m not. I just don’t want to be in the middle of something.”

“You ain’t in the middle of anythin’,” he shook his head. “Mary and I, we had our time, and we lost it.”

He didn’t seem too broken about it but... there was definitely an air of sadness. “I’m sorry,” she said quietly.

He shrugged. “Nah, probably for the best.” He rubbed his jaw. “She asked me to run away with her. Then said she knew I wouldn’t. I said I wanted to. That I would, once we got our money but, now...” He let out a humourless laugh and looked away. She had stilled. “Hell, I don’t know what it is about her. When I’m not with her I can see what a terrible idea it would be, that we don’t work. But when I’m with her... it’s like I forget all that.”

Her faint smile returned. “I think that might be love.”

Arthur looked back to her, arching an eyebrow with a faint air of amusement. “Ain’t practical, though, is it.”

Her smile just lingered. “I don’t think love is.”

Arthur just hummed.

 Ada licked her lips and continued, “Maybe you like the idea of being with Mary more than actually being with her.”

His eyebrows rose for a moment as he shrugged. “You might be righ’.”

She was quiet for a moment, watching him. “I guess part of you wants to be free from all this, then.”

His gaze flicked to her. “’Free’... You used that same word when talkin’ about Molly. We ain’t bein’ kept here against our will, Ada.”

"I know, but... all this running constantly, don’t you get tired?”

Arthur sighed. “Ada, you don’t know this life, you don’t—”

She frowned. “I know what this life can do to people, Arthur—”

“So do I,” he cut her off, his voice lowering slightly despite how far from the camp they were. “You think I don’t just want to give it all up? Think I just don’t want a quiet life? That’s what everyone wants but it ain’t real—”

"Running away to Tahiti isn’t real, Arthur,” she implored, ”It’s a fantasy cooked up by a man who fancies himself a king and you all blindly follow him—”

"We don’t blindly follow him, Ada, that ain’t true. He’s saved all those people, he’s cared for us all—”

She scoffed. “Oh, so he’s been kind to you so that means you have to do as he says?”

Arthur hissed out a breath, frowning. “No, of course it don’t, it’s about loyalty—”

 “Loyalty or following out of an obligation, or fear?” she shot back.

“Ada—”

“Help me understand, Arthur,” she implored again, holding her hand out. “Help me to understand why you all adore him. Because he’s good to you all? Because you all have nothing else? Because you all genuinely love him? Are you all just unwilling to see the man that he really is?”

Arthur’s gaze was cold. “He’s the greatest man I’ve ever met.”

She tutted, almost pulling a face as she shook her head. “He has such a hold on you, it’s—”

“You don’t know anythin’. You don’t know shit.”

“I know a bad man and an ignorant follower.”

He pointed a finger at her, his jaw moving. “You need to watch what you’re sayin’—”

"I told you that I saw him standing there,” she hissed. “I told you I saw him kill my father for no reason, a man who was living that quiet life you don’t believe in, he killed him. He took my family’s happiness, he ruined us. I told you all that and you still defend him.”

Arthur’s gaze softened, though only a fraction. “I ain’t sayin’ Dutch ain’t done some bad things but—”

“Always with an excuse—” she started to mutter.

“What he did was wrong,” he cut her off, his tone having risen slightly. “All righ’, that I know, but he’s done some good, too.”

"Good doesn’t negate from bad,” she spat without thinking.

He arched an eyebrow. “Don’t it? We all deserve a chance to make up for our sins, don’t we?”

She looked at him, her jaw clenched. She couldn’t disagree with that. She didn’t, couldn’t back down though.

“So that’s what he’s doing now, is it? Atoning for his sins by stealing from people still?”

"He just wants a better life for all of us.”

She shook her head. "I wish I could see things the way you do, I really wish I could. I wish you could see it my way, too.”

Arthur took a step closer, his tone quiet again. “Ada, I’m tellin’ you this as a friend... You either got to resolve all this in your head or you might have to start thinkin’ about movin’ on.”

A humourless smile pulled briefly at her lips as her heart quietly shattered. “Submit or flee, is that it?”

He pressed his lips together. “Resolve this, or think about movin’ on. You ain’t got any other choice.”

“Don’t I?”

He stared at her, her features blank, her eyes cold.

His jaw moving slightly, he lowered his voice. “Ada... I would stop you.”

She just looked at him.

“It ain’t worth it,” he murmured.

Her gaze shifted to over his shoulder, as if he wasn’t even there.

“My shift is over,” was all she said as she passed him.

He didn’t turn, but he heard her greet Lenny as he approached to take over. Closing his eyes, his head bowed slightly as he placed his hands on his hips.

Dear God, what a damn fuckin’ mess.

—

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Tagged: @belfry-bat​​​​​​​, @sistasarah-sallysaidso​​​, @ntlmundy​

[dailyaudiobible]

11/30/2020 DAB Transcript

Daniel 7:1-28, 1 John 1:1-10, Psalms 119:153-176, Proverbs 28:23-24

Today is the 30th day of November welcome to the Daily Audio Bible I’m Brian it's great to be here. I'm kinda giggling because I almost said it’s the 30th day of May, for no reason whatsoever. Maybe I’m already longing for springtime to get here. I don't know. Nevertheless, it is the final day of the 11th month of the year which means that tomorrow we will be heading into the home stretch, the final month of the year. So, what a…what a year it is been and there is so much out in front of us yet. So, let's dive in. We’re reading from the Christian standard Bible this week. We are in the book of Daniel in the Old Testament today. And this is gonna happen like I've already mentioned, both old and New Testaments are gonna speed up. We’re gonna be encountering shorter texts and so we’ll be moving through them more quickly. Today when we get to the New Testament, we will…we will be reunited with somebody that we spent a lot of time with, the evangelist John. And we will read first John or will begin to read first John when we get there. But first, Daniel chapter 7.

Introduction to first John:

Okay. As I mentioned just a few minutes ago when we get to the New Testament we’re moving into new territory and finding ourselves reunited with a voice that we got to know earlier in the year, the voice of John. Ironically, first John, like the letter, it…it doesn't make any mention of who it's from and doesn’t really make any mention of who it’s too. And, so, it would be easy enough to just conclude that the letter is anonymous similar to the book of Hebrews, but we would say in our church history that the church fathers in the mid-second century, so we’re talking about the mid-100s about like 50 years roughly after this letter was written, they attributed the letter to John the evangelist. And the authenticity of the letter and even its author didn't…didn’t find controversy or dispute when the New Testament was canonized. It's in more recent times that scholars have been examining the text and just wondering of the stylistic differences between like say the gospel of John and the letters of John, the epistles of John. But taking this as a letter of John you wonder like, why is this not addressed, like why isn’t it addressed to somebody specific? And the reason might be that the people that received this letter in the first place, they knew John really well. He's…he's an elderly person, an elderly…elderly saint, an elderly man at this point. And, so, he didn't need to introduce himself in the letter. It's also possible that the…the recipients of the letter weren't specifically named so that if the letter fell into the wrong hands they couldn't be tracked down. Maybe it was to protect them from potential persecution. But this letter, most likely was written from Ephesus pretty late in the apostle’s life…very late and the apostle’s life and the letter finds its dating, and again, dating letters has its challenges, but likely this is written in the mid-90s or maybe the early 100s. And…and John was writing really for one thing. He was undressing false teachings. This is interesting in the development of the church and in the development of the New Testament canon because during the time that all of these things that we are reading were written there wasn't a New Testament canon. And ideas about Jesus - who He was, what He represented, what His work was, where He came from, where He went - there were all kinds of things being said. Some of them would later be branded as heretical. Some of them are still just a part of the church library not part of the canon of Scripture, but are stories that have been passed down and still exist until this very day throughout generation after generation that…that actually provide us some of the church history that we have. So, some of the earlier forms of Gnosticism had begun to take hold and were forming theology and forming a whole written corpus around…around those beliefs. And if I had to…it's…it's hard…it's hard to summarize all of what's going on in Gnosticism because it's not just one thing, but the general understanding that the body is a bad thing and that our spirits are trapped within the body and that our spirituality and goal is to live an ascetic life, like depreciating bodily experiences in favor of spiritual ones so that we could achieve some form of enlightenment and deny…and deny bodily experience in favor of…of a spiritual experience. This is generally what we’re talking about. But there's also the early docetic view and John seems to be speaking specifically toward this view quite a bit in this letter. And that's a view that Jesus was indeed who He said He was, but He was not an actual human being. He appeared to be one more like, He was an apparition. And John also seems to be speaking against the view of Cerinthus who basically taught that Jesus was a human being, He was a person, but the divinity, the divine Christ nature actually entered Jesus when He was baptized and then affirmed by the dove by the Holy Spirit, “this is my beloved son”, and then Jesus operated in His ministry divinely, but at His crucifixion, He's dying, His…his body is dying, He's in the middle of an execution and He cries out, “my God, why have you forsaken me” and all this. And it's then the view of Cerinthus that the divine spirit that had embodied Jesus left Him at that point. And there are many, many others, many other different things that people believe, like Marcionism, which was a very, very wide populated group of people who had very different beliefs, believed very, very much in the writings of the apostle Paul, but really only took the gospel of Luke as something that could depict Jesus. And, I mean we could go on and on about different things like this all day. John is speaking against some of these things. And, so, it's here where we begin to see that the teachings about Jesus had spread and then some of the earlier church fathers including disciples of Jesus, like actually who walked with Him, like John, began to get into the process of forming orthodoxy. And we can only imagine that John, elderly as he might have been, would have authority to speak because He was there, like he was a part of Jesus inner circle and he'd been with Jesus from the beginning of his ministry. So, he could at least from an eyewitness perspective talk about what Jesus said and did. And that’s what we find him doing in first John. But just beyond just going after teachings that he was finding were getting kind of pretty far out there, this letter does provide contrasts for us, ways in which we can test the posture of our own heart. And, so, let's dive in. first John chapter 1.

Prayer:

Father, we thank You for Your word. We thank You for bringing us through these 11 months. Strange as they have been You have never left us. You have not forsaken us and we have learned in just beginning this letter of first John, that You are faithful and You are just to forgive our sins and to cleanse us from wickedness if we'll confess our sins to You. And, so, there's a level of intimacy portrayed here, conversational intimacy, one in which we could come to You and confess and one in which You would restore us. This is what we want every waking moment and every sleeping moment to be like - aware of Your presence, aware of Your guidance, aware of where You are leading us - and that we can remain in conversation. And then we fail we can come and say we failed instead of getting all twisted up and estranged, instead of failing and then throwing up our hands in the air and just running into rebellion and crashing our lives, and then being angry at You, only to eventually get crushed into powder and return again. We see this story repeated over and over and over and over in the stories of the Bible and we see that we have repeated the same patterns. We don't want that to be the pattern of our life anymore. We want to lock in for the rest of our days into the grand adventure of the life that You have given us to live and we want to be joyful in it because we get to live it and we get to walk with You. You father us. You show us all the beautiful vistas and views when we don't run into a brick wall of rebellion. So, come Holy Spirit. We want to lock in as we move into the final push, the final month of the year. We want to finish this year stronger than we have finished any year in our life's and that will require our submission to Your authority and our paying attention, our continually being aware that there is no where we can flee to escape Your presence. You are here with us right now. Come Holy Spirit. Help us to stay awake we pray in the name of Jesus. Amen.

Announcements:

dailyaudiobible.com is home base, it is the website, its where you find out what’s going on around here, around the Globe Campfire. So, check it out.

I’ve been mentioning for a couple days now, now that we’re kind of officially into the holiday season that the Daily Audio Bible Shop is available and there are some wonderful resources in there from things to write in, a great…a great journal that we've developed over the years. Things to write with, like all of the line of Black Wing pencil stuff that we have, that I use, I love. I don’t know. It was a few years ago. I just kind of went old-school, accidentally went old-school and found that I love to sharpen a pencil and I love to write with a pencil and…and within my own hand and kind of move away from the word processor and something just old-school about the whole thing. And, so, we’ve had that for a couple of years now. And it's been really, really helpful. It's fun to sit down and write with things that you want to be writing with on things that you want to be writing on. So, check that out. That’s all available in Daily Audio Bible Shop. The entire Global Campfire line is in the Daily Audio Bible Shop and right now while supplies last…and these won’t last, these won’t last for long. Normally we have Klean Kanteens a couple of times a year and there a wonderful…wonderful…like the best thing I have ever found to drink a cup coffee out of because I like to sip my coffee and it gets cold, right? And then after that it tastes terrible. But this can hold my coffee all day long and you’re drink…drinking hot coffee all day long. And, so, we made these a few years ago and they go superfast because we don't keep them in stock. They’re just really, really expensive to make. And, so, Daily Audio Bible Klean Kanteens Global Campfire edition are available in the Daily Audio Bible Shop right now while supplies last. So, those of you that have been…have been here in years gone by and weren’t able to get one or whatever, this is the one time we’ve got them now. So, check those out in the Daily Audio Bible Shop.

If you want to partner with the Daily Audio Bible, you can do that at dailyaudiobible.com as well and I thank you. That is how we are here, that we are in this together taking these steps forward every day. And, so, I thank you with all my heart for your partnership. There is a link on the homepage. If you’re using the app, you can press the Give button in the upper right-hand corner or the mailing address, if you prefer, is PO Box 1996 Spring Hill Tennessee 37174.

And, as always, if you have a prayer request or encouragement, you can hit a Hotline button in the app and share from there or you can dial 877-942-4253.

And that's it for today. I'm Brian I love you and I'll be waiting for you here tomorrow.

Community Prayer and Praise:

Hi, I’m Melissa from New Castle Australia. Been listening this year. I’m a first-time caller. I’m a mom of 5. 3 grandchildren and a grandchild on the way. My two boys are special needs as well as my oldest granddaughter. They’ve been learning…I’ve been learning this year to cast my problems and issues with my kids and my marriage that for the past six years out of the past 26 has been deteriorating. I can’t change any of this. God is the only one that can change this. Please pray that He’s working in all our hearts and refresh my heart and allow His light to shine through me and allow me to be a blessing for Him and show me the way that I should be going. Please also pray for my two boys. I have an 11-year-old boy Russell and a nine-year-old boy Axel. I’m with ­__ dad. I have the same issues. They are getting older. They are having meltdowns every day and I’m having troubles controlling them. So, I’m just asking for the cursing and violence to just stop and just give me a breather. I don’t think there’s any other thing, yeah, that I can think of but yeah that’s…that’s my points for today. I’m praying for you’s all. Have a blessed day. Bye.

Hi family this is Janice calling from the mountains of Phoenix Arizona and have a special request. Please pray with me for my best friend of 50 years. Her name is Sherry and Sherry’s very ill and the doctors…there’s a lot she’s failing, and nobody really knows why. And she’s now…I don’t know 62. So, Sherry is suffering and we…she is a Christian but she’s mostly worried about her son Michael who’s in another state. And, so, we need to pray for Sherry and Michael and Lord we just need you to come down and be real to this family Lord. Break through to Michael. Get through to his brain. Let him know that You are not the God of confusion. Lord he’s running away from You. Lord please reach down with Your love and bring them home. And Lord please reach down and save my dear friend. We’ve been together for so long and she needs You desperately. And she’s feeling so alone, and everyone is confined at home with this Covid scare. And Lord we just need You big time and we know You’re there and we have faith in You, and we trust that You will see us through this all. And we just want to give You praise and honor and glory. And thank You for my DAB family Lord. I love them so much. Please bless each and every one of these praying warriors. In Jesus’ name. Amen. Bye guys. Talk to you soon.

Happy Thanksgiving everyone this is Joyful Jay from the Everglades. I just listened to the daily podcast and there was a husband praying for her wife in Georgia who’s been bedridden for three months with nausea. She’s a longtime listener. Oh Lord right now at 5:30 AM on Thanksgiving I pray that you will calm this woman’s stomach, that you will settle her inner ear. Lord have her get up. Lord, have her get up so her husband will know that his prayer for her is answered. And I pray this in Jesus’ name. Amen. And that somebody who’s on my heart often is Rebecca from Michigan and Lacey from Cape Cod. Rebecca, I know your mom is in the hospital and I know your heart for her. Lord I just thank You for those hearts of daughters towards their parents. Rebecca, I just love you, I love your heart. My heart pops every time I hear you speak with a little bit of joy. Lord, Rebecca has asked you to heal her mama. And in the name of Jesus I believe that ask is answered in Rebecca’s favor. Amen. And Lord for Lacey, I haven’t heard from her for a while. I pray for her often. I know she says she’s lonely and her little dog is sick. Lord we need…I need to hear an update. And prompt her heart Lord that she will call in with an update. I pray that she will just find what she needs to resolve this issue of loneliness.

Good morning to my Daily Audio Bible community. My name is Tony Rome. That’s what I go by. I’m so thankful to God for this forum and this community. I called this morning after my daily listening to the studies of brother Hardin and thankful for the message that was given. First, I would like to ask if the community would offer a prayer for my grandson. I call him by the name or the initials KJ. He has been plagued with some bouts of schizophrenia if you want to call it that. But just keep him…lift him up in prayer for he’s such a beautiful spirit, such a sweet young man and I love them so much. I’m a very infrequent caller but a constant listener to this community. I thank God for the message in regards to faith this morning. Where would we be without it? I think on the opposite end of the spectrum is fear. So, we often times act in one or the other and that dictates or determines our future outcomes. I thank brother Hardin for the lesson of faith and where we would be without it. Had Moses parents…had not set him in that basket there would be no Moses and no story of Moses today. And what is our story? And where would we be? I just thank God for all as I pray in Jesus’ name.

Happy Thanksgiving to my DAB family this is Danny from Southern Oregon. I’m down here in Southern California spending Thanksgiving with my parents and I’m just so thankful that I’m able to do that make them Thanksgiving dinner that I know that they appreciate so much. But I wanted to start my day out of course listening to the DAB of course as I always do but I just decided to go for a long walk and listen to Brian’s Heart album. And, gosh, within the first 60 seconds I was just balling tears of thankfulness for our heavenly Father. You know, no matter what life throws at us He’s there. I don’t know…I don’t know what I would do without God. I’m just so grateful. And I know you all are too and I’m so grateful for you all. And, so, I just told myself I wasn’t gonna to ask God for anything today I was just gonna praise Him all day long and not ask for a thing. And I didn’t realize how hard that is, that how much I ask of God when I’m prayer with Him. And when I start to ask for something, I’m like, “no. I can’t do that. I need to just praise God. Just today. just give thanks.” And, so, oh heavenly Father I am just in awe of what you do for us every single day and when the world is falling apart all around us and we’re struggling with fear, anxiety, and everything else You lift us up. I’m so thankful for you. I love you DAB with…

Good afternoon it’s such a joy to be able to listen to the word and know that…hi my name is Nelly…and to know that other people are also listening to the word and that they’re…they’re also praising and worshiping God at the same time. And I’m new so I don’t know most…most…most of the people but I’ll begin to start listening more and more and more so I can…so I can start praying for people and worship with other believers. So, I thank you from San Juan Capistrano California. May the Lord Jesus Christ of Nazareth, Yeshua __ bless you and just fill your hearts with…with praises and thanksgiving for all the things that He is done throughout the year, that there’s some hidden…there’s some hidden treasures in all the situation. For myself being in…in this this first pandemic, it has drawn me closer to the Lord Jesus to where now He’s number one in my life and I am so joyous because He’s finally sitting on the throne where he belongs.

[mymoonisalways-in-scorpio]

🍄  Dig A Little Deeper 🍄

,I was tagged by  my sweet  little sister

@flowrxchild  , thank you so  much darling  🌻🔅🌺💞❣🦋🌸💐

🌙➖ Do you prefer writing with black or blue pen?

 All my student days I have written with a black pen, I rarely write with a blue pen.

🌙➖ Would you prefer to live in the country or the city?

It is strange what I am going to say, sometimes I would like to live in the country surrounded by animals, taking care of them, feeding them in a few words, having a small farm. But there are other times that make me want to live in the city, surrounded by people. surrounded by noise.  Depending on my mood, sometimes when I get upset I would like to go and live in the country, but when I'm in a good mood I want to stay in the city.

🌙➖ If you could learn a new skill, what would it be?

I would like to learn how to read Braille texts, I would also like to learn a new instrument like the tuba or the horn.  

🌙➖ Do you drink your tea/coffee with sugar?

I don't usually take coffee with sugar, but I've always taken tea with sugar, but I usually take both without sugar (now I'm doing it because I have diabetes

🌙➖ What was your favorite book as a child?

John John the dragon of the lake titi caca (Peruvian children's story), the name of the book sounds strange, but when I was in Argentina, in my primary school I was asked to buy that book, read it and make a summary of that story, which ended up falling in love

🌙➖ Do you prefer baths or showers?

I usually take a shower since we don't have a bathtub at home, but every time I go to my uncle's house and stay a few days in it, I love to take a good bath in the tub they have in the guest bathroom.

🌙➖ If you could be a mythical creature, which one would you be?

I have always wanted to be a unicorn, since I was a child I was in love with this horse with a horn on his forehead. I'd like to be a Pegasus instead, those winged horses are beautiful.

🌙➖ Paper or electronic books?  

Paper 100%

🌙➖ What is your favorite item of clothing?

A very 80's style Jean jacket, with patches from my favorite bands, was a gift from my ex-best friend, I'm in love with that jacket.

🌙➖ Do you like your name?

I really like my middle name, but I hate my first name. The reason I love my middle name more than my first name is because my name is Michelle, just like the Guns N Roses song called my Michelle.

🌙➖ Who is a mentor to you?

I have a priest as my mentor, who was my religion teacher when I was still in school.  We became very good friends and even though I am not Catholic, every time I have a problem or doubt about something I always turn to him, it helps me a lot to talk to him.

🌙➖ Would you like to be famous?

Maybe 

🌙➖ Are you a restless sleeper?

Not really, I'll be honest with you as soon as I touch my bed I fall asleep.

🌙➖Do you consider yourself to be a romantic person?

I have never considered myself a romantic person, even if others think I am.

🌙➖ Which element best represents you?

Fire 

🌙➖ Who do you want to be closer with?

My tumblr friends, at first I was afraid of this social network now I love it because I have found very nice people, with whom I never want to lose contact. Also with my neighbor, who is like a sister of another mother to me.

🌙➖ Do you miss someone at the moment?

I miss several people, including several friends from my school and university.

🌙➖ Tell us about an early childhood memory:

I will tell you about my first violin concert and why it was the most embarrassing of all. BTW, it all started when I had to get on stage, everything was ready and in the middle of the concert a string broke, of course I cried because of the pain, so my mom had to sneak on stage and get me off, to wipe my tears and calm down a bit.

🌙➖ What is the strangest thing you’ve ever eaten?

Frogs' legs, I remember that on a trip to the Peruvian jungle (Madre de Dios exactly), the locals gave us frogs' legs to eat, which I found disgusting, but when I tried them they tasted like chicken. 

🌙➖ What are you most thankful for?

I am grateful for my family, for my few friends, they have already put up with how clumsy I am, how impulsive I am, how foolish I can be.

🌙➖ Have you ever met anyone famous?:

I had the opportunity to meet Greta Van Fleet last year, in Chile. I had traveled there to do social work and I didn't even know that the band would perform in those places, until a friend told me: ''Listen, the band that you like so much is going to perform in Chile''. I remember I didn't have much money back then and the tickets were expensive, but it was worth spending or collecting some money to go see them, I felt like I was in heaven when Josh Kiszka smiled at me and winked at me, it was the nicest thing ever

🌙➖ Do you keep a journal or diary?

Yes, but to write fan fiction that I will never publish.

🌙➖ Do you prefer to use pen or pencil?

Both

🌙➖ What’s your star sign?

Scorpion child 

🌙➖ Do you like your cereal crunchy or soggy?

Both

🌙➖ What would you want your legacy to be?

I want to be remembered as a girl, with big dreams, who always was and is for people who need her.

🌙➖Do you like reading? What was the last book you read?

I like to read, I'll read any kind of book, but my favorites are scary. Now I'm reading one called "Del amor y otros demonios  " by Colombian writer Gabriel Garicia Marquez

🌙➖How do you show someone you love them?

I'm a very detailed person about that, I always like to give them something that they like, adding a little personal touch.

🌙➖ Do you like ice in your drinks?

Yes

🌙➖ What are you afraid of?

I'm scared of heights

🌙➖What is your favourite scent?

I have always liked the smell of lavender, just as I have always liked the smell of eucalyptus.

🌙➖ Do you address older people by their name or their surname?

It depends on who you're dealing with.

🌙➖ If money was not a factor, how would your life be?

Definitely in these times of pandemic, I would not be stressed out about buying food.

🌙➖Do you prefer swimming in pools or the ocean?

 I'll be honest with you, I don't know how to swim, but I still like lakes better than swimming pools.

🌙➖What would you do if you found 50$ on the ground?

First I ask if it belongs to someone and if it doesn't, I keep it.

🌙➖ Have you ever seen a shooting star?

Never

🌙➖ What is one thing you want to teach your children?

Let them first be empathetic to the people who live around them, who know what the meaning of true love is. May they know how to share what they have with others, may they be good people.

🌙➖ If you had to get a tattoo right now, what and where would it be?

I have more than three tattoos (all smaller), but if I had to get one now it would be a rose dedicated to Greta.

🌙➖ What can you hear now?

The spotify is in shuffle mode, so you can hear the music playing through the computer speakers.

🌙➖  Where do you feel the safest?

My home 

🌙➖ What is one thing you want to overcome/conquer?

My attention deficit, although according to these last days has been improving from a few

🌙➖ If you could travel back in time to any era what would it be?:

60's . 70's and 80's

🌙➖ What is your most used emoji?  

🍄🦋💕

🌙➖ Describe yourself using one word: easy-going

Dreamer

🌙➖ What do you regret the most?:

Leaving many opportunities, because of my asperger's syndrome

🌙➖ Last movie I saw?

Rock of  Ages 

🌙➖Last TV show you watched?

Criminal Minds 

🌙➖Invent a word and it’s meaning?

So far I haven't invented one and I don't have the imagination to invent one.

i taggin : 

@kakarla 

@moonchildwildheart

@juvinadelgreko

🦋💐❣💞🌺🌻🔅

[twilight-deviant]

So I never saw the Timeless movie but enjoyed your feedback on the show while it was in progress and agreed with you much of the time-- is the movie worth watching ? I'm scared it's going to be rushed, sloppy, and ly@tt garbage

First of all, thank you for valuing my opinion enough to ask. I haven’t rambled about Timeless in awhile, but I’m flattered you enjoyed and remembered my feedback when I did. ♥

Sadly, I have to report that Timeless finale is a movie disliked by Garcy fans, Riya fans, and gen fans alike. Pretty much the only way to like it is if you’re the target audience: Lucy/Wyatt shippers. Or maybe if you’re a very, very casual fan.

Full disclosure: I have not actually watched the Timeless movie. Like you, I feared it would abandon everything Timeless stood for, everything we loved, to waste its last moments on Lucy/Wyatt fan service. Aaaaaand I was right. Good call me on not watching it live. It might have broken my heart. I got the information later through friends and research. And tbh, hearing everything second-hand was actually hilarious. Yes, it was upsetting, but the writing is SO BAD, I actually laughed. Out loud. I may have cried laughing. It’s just… so bad. XD

I spent months dreading a worst case scenario for the movie, and when the time came, it was every bit that. (And then some? Somehow?) But when it got here, all of my fears turned to hilarity. I was RELIEVED. After months of being afraid, I finally felt free. I thought “This is what I was afraid of?” Because toxic shippers in the fandom got everything they wanted, just the way they wanted, but it is HORRIBLE! Because what they wanted was BAD. It watches just like the badly written fanfiction they demanded. Which is ALL this movie is: badly written fanfiction.

To quote Claudia Doumit when she read the script: “It feels like a fan wrote the movie.” Perhaps she means that in a positive way, but if a professional is writing “like a fan,” spoiler alert, it’s never a positive thing. It’s a “basic” thing.

Timeless movie is SO BAD that it is the least rewatched episode of all Timeless. Delayed returns on it are borderline embarrassing. Few people except Lucy/Wyatt shippers wanted to subject themselves to it a second time. Not to mention that support for Timeless and a third renewal fell into steep decline after the premiere. It seems not many people want more if this is the “more” we might have to look forward to.

imo, Future television writers should study this movie for direct examples of what NOT to do. It’s every worst case scenario, presented to you at breakneck speed. You barely have time to get over one absurdity before the next one hits. Not gonna lie. I’ll give kudos where due. I am legitimately IMPRESSED that writing managed to get every single thing wrong. Do you know how statistically impossible that is?!?!

Timeless movie really sort of took all the negatives, low points, disproportionate focus on romance, and bad writing of S2 and ran with them. That’s what it is. Concentrated S2, minus any good parts.

Basically, if you are a fan of Flynn, Lucy, Rufus, Jiya, Jessica, Emma, Connor, Denise, good writing, feminism, no plotholes, Riya, Garcy, or TIMELESS, please do not watch the Timeless movie. Save yourself. If your first (only?) priority is Wyatt and Lucy/Wyatt, go right ahead. It was made just (only?) for you.

Though obviously, I can’t/won’t stop you from watching. You may still want to form your own opinion, and if so, you have my full support. I hope that you find something appealing to make it worth your time. I especially hope that if you don’t, it doesn’t ruin Timeless for you, as it has other people. I still may watch it myself one day. I may. But not for entertainment purposes. Really just to mock it from a more informed standpoint. I’ve considered live-blogging the event. lol.

As is though, I basically know the entire movie through aforementioned friends and research. And I will summarize below the cut on the ways this movie failed Timeless and its fans. (PS: This is by no means everything. There’s just SO MUCH and I got tiiiired thinking about this monstrosity! Anyone is free to add on whatever I didn’t cover.)

[Spoilers]

Future Lucy gives the journal to Wyatt, the writer’s attempt to take something that has always been Flynn/Lucy’s thing and make it a L/W thing. (Somehow, we’re supposed to ignore that this Lucy already would have given her journal to Flynn in 2014. Conveniently, illogically, she has it again. So she can give it to Wyatt.)

Future Wyatt announces that Jessica was lying about being pregnant. Right out the gate. Great. Now, they get to kill her. Don’t worry, writing will strip away her entire character first so we don’t feel guilty when an “evil Rittenhouse agent” dies. It’s fine to kill a woman who was brainwashed from childhood, but let’s not kill a baby. We’ll just erase it instead. That’s different because reasons.

Writing introduces a new stipulation that people can coexist with time travel, but staying too long will kill them. This will come in handy later.

Also the new, updated Lifeboat will conveniently be able to do whatever the plot needs. Coexist? Sure. Autopilot? Suuuuure. Able to jump multiple times on one charge as if it had a nuclear core like the Mothership? Why not?!

If you thought Rittenhouse wasn’t scary anymore in S2, well hold onto this writer’s beer. Gone is any intimidation or purpose they once stood for. Now that Emma is running things, all that matters is stealing art and money from the past. Caution: Never go full two-dimensional evil.

Wyatt decides Jessica has to die and he’s the one who has to do it. But after half an argument from the team, he gives in and agrees not to. FLYNN will clean up Wyatt’s mess instead! Because suddenly, all that matters is he loves Lucy. Not his family. Not stopping Rittenhouse. No, he has to do this so that Lucy can be with Wyatt and Rufus can be alive.

Flynn tells Lucy that the journal can be unreliable. Despite this, he goes to 2012 and dooms himself because he believes, without a doubt, that Lucy’s heart will always belong to Wyatt, something he, ya know, got from the journal. And that neeeeeever changes. I mean, some guy said it was unreliable, but his name escapes me right now.

When 1x06 first aired and we heard the story of how Jessica died and how it was very much Wyatt’s fault, painting him in a negative light, I thought to myself (almost three years ago), “Wow. If we ever get a flashback of that night, writing is going to retcon all of that so hard so that it doesn’t look like Wyatt’s fault.” And lo! It’s Jessica’s fault now. She made Wyatt get jealous on purpose. She made him drink too much. She MADE HIM let her out of the car, per text orders of Rittenhouse agent. Poor Wyatt, what a victim. (Periodic reminder that Timeless hates women.)

Writing in the scene with Jessica’s death is so bad that we’re actually left with no alternative BUT to believe Wyatt was the original killer that night. Rittenhouse agent tells Jessica to get out of the car. This saves her life. No other person is seen on this road (save Flynn later) that could be the killer. And what’s the other course (the original timeline)? Without instruction, Jessica would have stayed in the car. And died. Wow, I can’t believe Wyatt killed Jessica in a drunken, jealous rage, but also I can. Also also writing just told us he did. If Rittenhouse wanted to make sure she was okay, they would tell her to stay in the car with her soldier husband, no matter what. That would save her. But what do they do instead? Hmmmm…….

Flynn kills Jessica and hurries to the Lifeboat, feeling the effects of coexistence taking affect. Set course for any time but this one, am I right? Wrong. Nah, better just die. Flynn sends the Lifeboat back to 1848 for the team and stays in 2012 so he can see his family one last time and then die. Because true character development is letting your five-year-old die violently two weeks before Christmas when you still have the life and power to prevent it.

Why does all of our correspondence end the same? Reply, reply, and then *crickets* Notice me, senpai. TToTT

For some reason (I mean, I know the reason. It’s bad writing by an idiot), dead Flynn’s fingerprints do not pull up when police find a John Doe on the beach. Despite the fact that he worked with the NSA and his prints would be on file.

I can’t with this woman:

Anywaaaaaaay, Rufus returns in a way that breaks all time travel rules thus far established in the show. Even though the team was traveling in 1848 with Flynn, suddenly it’s reset so that Rufus was there the entire time. Which, even if writing wants to claim that’s SOMEHOW possible, is still illogical because to overwrite that timeline, the characters’ memories would have also been overwritten. However, they remain perfectly intact with everyone remembering Rufus died. (Except Rufus, of course.)

Flynn dies because he stayed in the past too long. The writer would then go on twitter and pretend the matter was out of her hands, even though she’s the one who set the condition. She WROTE the rule that killed him, SO she could kill him. (This was previously not going to be a condition on coexisting time travel. Source: Interviews in which it was suggested that had Timeless been renewed for S3, Future Lucy and Wyatt may have stuck around for a few episodes.)

Arika would also say on twitter that, in her opinion, Flynn didn’t deserve a happy ending, to the uproar of many.

Writing tries to claim that Flynn was always the person who killed Jessica in 2012. Deer lord at the plotholes.

And the holes keep comin and they don’t stop comin. ♫

It’s Christmas now. For some reason. When the team returns to the bunker, there are Christmas decorations everywhere and we’re told that it’s Christmas in present day. Even though it was May yesterday.

There are more than a dozen ways to save Flynn at this point, but Arika doesn’t like him and just wants Lucy/Wyatt to bang. So you can bet none of them will be used. Also because she’s an idiot, the woman claimed on twitter that Flynn can’t possibly be brought back because he died while time traveling. Uh-huh. First off, what? He absolutely can be saved. Secondly, tell me how Rufus died again?

The characters acknowledge Flynn for a minute (in a toast give by WYATT, of all people) before promptly forgetting he ever existed until the end of the movie. When they need him again.

When Rufus wants to get intimate, Jiya tells him that she suffered some form of abuse while stranded in the past. That’s it. We will never talk about this again. Forget it ever happened. They brought it up just to scar Jiya even further and then ignore it. Anyone who tells you Timeless loves women is lying. Timeless wants to torture and torment women. FOR NO REASON!

Emma is the only person who cares Jessica is now dead. Because it sure as shirt wasn’t going to be her husband who like two days ago was desperately trying to get her to come home to her “family.” (Remember kids, women are just baby makers. If there’s not a baby in there, she’s garbage, and a minute spent mourning is a minute you’re not banging the next lady.) Emma plots revenge on the team, and honestly, by this point, I say let her do it. They’re horrible people.

Lucy boldly says she won’t be Wyatt’s second choice. So she can forget she said it in 10 minutes, when she’s suddenly fine with it.

Rufus is alive again, but all of his memories after 2x03 are conveniently erased. In his timeline, Lucy/Wyatt have been together this whole time, and he’s their biggest fan. He actually, canonically, verbally says that he’s “Team L/yatt.” That’s great because otherwise we’re left with a Rufus whose last words on the subject are:

“You are so worried about your stupid Lucy-Jessica soap opera that you forgot that there are other people here. Who matter to each other. Who love each other. If anything happens to her, Wyatt… I don’t think I can ever forgive you.”

Yeah, we can’t use that in the Lucy/Wyatt movie. Better erase the black man’s memory since he’s no longer serving his purpose: head cheerleader of the white couple!

Because Rufus’s memories are gone, all S2 development in the Riya relationship is gone with it. Damaging them even more after Jiya spent 3 years in the past (becoming hardened and almost a different person) and then watched him die. Don’t worry, writing will address none of this.

Rufus compares Lucy/Wyatt to Aragorn/Arwen. As a Tolkien nerd, I’ll throw down over this alone. IN WHAT WAY?!

There’s a pregnant woman in labor because leave no cliche unturned. Wyatt delivers the baby because what did I just say about cliches.

Lucy’s hormones go all a-twitter when she sees Wyatt holding said baby. Outside? In weather they admitted earlier is deathly freezing? (I mean, the mother might want to hold her own baby, but no. She has to get in line. Lucy absolutely HAS to have an epiphany that she needs Wyatt’s babies.)

Lucy decides that since Wyatt’s mistreatment of her was technically from another timeline, she can let go off all self-respect and tell herself he didn’t mean it. Also almost everyone else is dead or has their memories erased, so only they will know. Now Lucy can be with Wyatt and no one will judge her? Yay?

Despite Emma’s big speech in 2x10 about abandoning the pillars of “old Rittenhouse” and striking out on her own, she still backs down immediately when Denise makes Benjamin Cahill tell her to knock it off and surrender.

Emma dies at the hands of some deus ex machina random sniper. Letting us know the writer could no longer pretend she cared about any of this and just wanted to make Lucy/Wyatt bang. Are they banging yet? Bang now! Will this convenient and corny mistletoe move things along? Are they banging yet?

So Denise saves the day. In the most anti-climatic way. Meaning Rufus was never actually necessary and could have stayed dead. Actually, none of the team was necessary. Nothing in these episodes was necessary. All it took to end Rittenhouse was Denise and Ben. Roll credits.

Lucy decides NOT to save her sister Amy. Even though it’s what she has been fighting for since episode 2. Her reasoning? She says that trying to save the people they love has negative effects. (Let’s get one last jab at dead Flynn by saying, “Look at all the awful things that Flynn did in the name of saving his family.”) This is said in spite of the fact that Amy is SUPPOSED to be alive, and leaving her erased IS an alternate timeline, carrying the potential of being more catastrophic than SAVING HER and setting the events right.

PS: While in the past, Lucy JUST SAID, “What’s the point of saving history if we don’t save the people in it?” And then saved a stranger that was supposed to die. Writing for this movie does not care about consistency, only what’s relevant in the moment. And clearly the writer wanted Amy to stay dead.

Leaving Amy dead creates this lovely paradox:

Writer is too ignorant in time travel to understand that current timeline is erased, Lucy is now with Noah, and that is our endgame. Movie proceeds with Lucy/Wyatt ending.

The Mothership is dismantled for no reason. So now the team is stuck with ONE time machine for any future situations. Remind me again. Remind me. Why… did we have the Lifeboat in the first place? Oh yeah, Connor kept it in case the crew of the Mothership was ever stranded. And it came in handy after the Mothership was stolen. Right, who needs two time machines? Scrap her, boys!

In a flashforward to 2023, we see that Lucy is teaching at Stanford again. And she just got tenure! Which is a throwback to the Pilot, but completely ignores that it is not what Lucy wanted for herself, only what Carol influenced her into doing. Lucy’s dream job was to teach at a small college in Ohio. (Source: 1x14 conversation with Lindbergh.) But who CARES WHAT LUCY WANTS?! Certainly not a writer who barely knows the show upon which she is the showrunner.

Lucy is a thoroughly horrible fake feminist now. At her job, she teaches a general history class, but only talks about women in history. When a male student brings this up, Lucy says, “I meant to get to the men, but we just didn’t have time.Maybe in the spring, okay?” So he gets to sound sexist for valuing his education. Oh, wow, thanks. Feminism isn’t about ignoring men and acting like they’re not important. It’s about EQUALITY! Label your class as “Women’s History” if that’s all you’re going to teach. Also what if they don’t HAVE YOU next semester, Lucy?! They’re going on to their next classes completely unprepared. Remind me again how this woman got tenure? Because she didn’t get it in the Pilot due to her unconventional teaching methods. Somehow not adhering to your own course description is the secret to success?

Lucy and Wyatt have two twin girls named Flynn and Amy. There are so many bad fanfiction cliches I want to cry. TToTT Why are you making me cry? Never. name. the. second. generation. after. characters. that. died. It’s. THE. corniest. thing. Petition. to. stop!

Jiya and Rufus started “Riya Industries.” That’s right! They squeezed not one, BUT TWO fandom ship names into this nightmare. If you needed further proof no one was taking this movie seriously, here ya go.

2023 Lucy does take the journal to 2014 Flynn in the bar in Sao Paulo, but everything about it is wrong. Not only do Rufus and Wyatt accompany her, but the conversation leads to Lucy telling a man who just lost his family that he can change the past but will never save his family. Also he’ll die. And he should just accept all of that but still do what she says and sacrifice himself to save a world that hates him. And the entire conversation takes place in about a minute. I mean, people had a hard time believing Flynn would buy into Lucy’s story and do what she said after 2x08 premiered. Now? NO EFFING WAY!

A clip (deleted scene from Pilot) of 2016 Flynn at the end shows him about to raid Mason Industries and start us over again. In other words, he is stuck in Hell loop for eternity. His family will die in 2014, he will do horrible things he hates to save them and the world from Rittenhouse, and he will die unnecessarily to save the world. Then Lucy will go back in time, give him the journal, and start him on this quest all over again, knowing full well that he is a good man and this will destroy his soul. But she doesn’t care (actually smiles as she approaches him) because he “did bad things” and the writer thinks he deserves this. Even though Lucy is the one who set him on this path and one can EASILY argue it is all her doing and Flynn was nothing but her tool. Don’t worry, she gets her happy ending.

The movie closes on a young girl designing specs for her own time machine. Motives unknown, other than general interest, same as Connor in the beginning. The writer thinks this is an AMAZING open ending, leaving plenty of groundwork for more Timeless when fans get it renewed for a third time. (It is not. No one cares. You killed Timeless and flew all its plots into the ground.)

In conclusion, yes, worst case scenario on every single plot point. Timeless does nothing to prove or even suggest it deserves a third chance. I personally am left wishing it had never been renewed after the initial cancellation following S1. Let it stay dead now. Forever. It has done nothing to deserve yet another chance.

RIP Timemess.

[sherlollyandspoilers]

Here Be Dragons, Chapter Two

Here is chapter one. If you prefer to read on AO3. Thank you for taking the time to read - this is probably one of my favorite things I have ever written for Sherlolly. 

“William Sherlock Scott Holmes!” Molly breathed as she came rushing into his hospital room, tears streaming down her face.

“Molly,” he moaned as he tried to sit up.

“You are in so much trouble!” She slapped his shoulder before wrapping her arms around his neck, trying not to brush the bandage on his chest. “You were supposed to get clean not get shot you idiot!” She grabbed his face and peppered kisses across his skin, leaving a trail of her tears.

“I know…sorry ‘bout that.” He gripped her face and pulled her lips to his, smashing her chest against his wound. “Owe!” he gasped, letting her go. She furrowed her brow in worry as she stepped back. “I’ll be fine.”

“You’re a mess.” She shook her head at him and dropped her coat and purse in the empty chair next to the bed. “I’m a mess,” she gestured to her face and grabbed a tissue to wipe away her tears.

“Just a bit,” he whispered. He moved over on his bed, wincing as he went, and patted the empty space beside him. She slid up on the bed and took his hand in hers, brushing the hair out of his eyes with her free hand. “I’m sorry.” She raised her eyebrow in question. “For worrying you…for the drug test…for doing the job I do.” She looked down at their intertwined hands and nodded.

“You wouldn’t be you if you weren’t the World’s Only Consulting Detective,” she said with a small smile. “I do wish you would be a little more cautious, though.” He gave her a half attempted smile and then winced again. “Do you want me to turn up your mor – ”

“Did John go home?” he asked suddenly, looking at the door.

“He volunteered to pick Mina up from Kathy’s…why?”

“I need to tell you something and we don’t have long.”

“Tell me what?”

“Something about Mary.”

--

JOHN: What have I ever done ... hmm? ... my whole life ... to deserve you?  SHERLOCK: Everything. JOHN: Sherlock, I’ve told you... shut up. SHERLOCK: No, I mean it, seriously. Everything – everything you’ve ever done is what you did. JOHN: Sherlock, one more word and you will not need morphine. SHERLOCK: You were a doctor who went to war….You’re a man who couldn’t stay in the suburbs for more than a month without storming a crack den and beating up a junkie. Your best friend is a sociopath who solves crimes as an alternative to getting high…….John, you are addicted to a certain lifestyle. You’re abnormally attracted to dangerous situations and people ... so is it truly such a surprise that the woman you’ve fallen in love with conforms to that pattern? JOHN: But she wasn’t supposed to be like that…Why is she like that? SHERLOCK: Because you chose her.

 Molly was silent as she watched the scene unfold in front of her. She was sure that John was going to come unglued at any moment or that Sherlock was going to pass out from the pain. Her head was spinning as the three of them talked.

Mary Watson. No, not Mary. Someone else.

She had already had a week to process the information that Sherlock thought he knew. She was sure that when she saw Mary for the first time after the shooting that she would not be able to stand it. That she would go back on her promise to help Sherlock find a way to save her.  That she would hate her for shooting the man she loved.

But when she looked at her all she saw was her best friend. All she saw was Mary Watson, the woman who cared so much about her and Mina. The woman who had been her confidant from the moment they met. The woman who had saved John and kept up with Sherlock.

Not someone else. Just Mary. Mary Watson.

 JOHN: How did she save your life? SHERLOCK: She phoned the ambulance. JOHN: I phoned the ambulance. SHERLOCK: She phoned first…You didn’t find me for another five minutes. Left to you, I would have died. The average arrival time for a London ambulance is ... PARAMEDIC: Did somebody call an ambulance? SHERLOCK: ... eight minutes…Did you bring any morphine? I asked on the phone. PARAMEDIC: We were told there was a shooting. SHERLOCK: There was, last week ...but I believe I’m bleeding internally and my pulse is very erratic…You may need to re-start my heart on the way. JOHN: Sherlock…Sherlock? SHERLOCK: John?...John – Magnussen is all that matters now. You can trust Mary. She saved my life. JOHN: She shot you.

“Mmm, mixed messages, I grant you that…oh!” Sherlock groaned in pain and feel back. John held his shoulders tight as the paramedics grabbed hold and lowered him down. “Molly!”

“I’m here, Sherlock.” She snaked her hands through the limbs of the paramedics and took hold of his hand.

“Trust her…don’t leave her.” He squeezed her hand tighter as he groaned again.

“I won’t. I promise.” She leaned down and kissed his forehead. “Don’t you die on me, Sherlock Holmes. Don’t you dare die…..I love you.”

“I love yo…” he mumbled as an oxygen mask was put on his face. The paramedics pushed them all back and hurried Sherlock down the stairs.

John grabbed his coat and mumbled something about calling them a cab before hurrying down the steps. Molly nodded numbly and picked up her purse. She was half way out the door when she realized Mary was still standing in the corner of the room, not moving.

“Come on.” Molly held her hand out to her, but she didn’t move. “You heard him, Mary. I won’t leave you.”

“Why?” she choked out. Molly walked back to her and wrapped her arms around Mary’s shoulders.

“Because, you’re my best friend,” Molly whispered. Mary started shaking in her arms and clung to her as she broke down. Molly collapsed to the floor with her and rocked her as she cried. “Shh,” she cooed in Mary’s ear as she rubbed her back. “Shhh.”

Mary finally sat back and wiped her face on the sleeve of her coat. Molly stood up and extended her hand out to her, pulling her up to her feet.

“Thank you,” Mary said quietly. Molly gripped her shoulders tightly and gave her a small smile.

“Now, come on…I’m sure John has a cab by now and we don’t want to keep him waiting.”

--

Molly fidgeted in her seat, the anger radiating off of her.

Sherlock shifted uncomfortable in his hospital gown and opened his mouth to talk but Molly shook her head, hushing him. He waited another few minutes before trying again, but she held up a finger and gave him a pointed look.

“Now, I understand that you want to help Mary,” he opened his mouth again, but she ignored him, “But what in the hell possessed you to think it was okay to leave the hospital right after having not one, but TWO SURGERIES!?!?” She was breathing heavily and Sherlock swore that if she tried, she could have shot fire out of her eyes.

“Bit not good?” he asked quietly.

“Just a bit,” she snipped. She huffed in frustration and got up, pacing around his bed. “You are the most infuriating man that I know!”

Sherlock watched as she paced, taking in her appearance. Her cheeks were flushed and her hair was slipping out of her bun, failing over her face and shoulders. She was wearing one of his lounging shirts tied up above her hip with a pair of old jeans that had holes in them.

“Are you even listening to me, Sherlock?” He blinked at her several times trying to replay the words she had just said, but failed. She gave him an expectant look.

“You dressed quickly this morning, not bothering to change your shirt once you realized it was one of mine; instead you tied it up on your way out the door. The hospital must have woken you from a dead sleep when they called this morning because you still had the faint impression of your pillow case on your cheek when you first arrived. You must not have gotten to the laundry yet this week as you are wearing your least favorite jeans, the ones that hug your hips. Also, you must have run out of your shampoo last time you took a shower as you smell like mine.” He stopped his observations and looked up. Her nostrils were flared and her eyes were dark. He swallowed hard.

“And your deductions were leading you where?” she asked, hands on her hips.

“To say that you look sexy as hell right now.” He gave her a knowing smile. She shook her head and dropped her hands, laughing at his ridiculousness. “Come here,” he said, holding out his hand. She obliged and took his hand, sitting on the side of the bed next to him. “I’m sorry for scaring you…again.”

Molly took a deep breath and let it out slowly.

“I am just worried that something worse is going to happen.” She gently laid her hand against the bandage on his chest.

“I can’t promise you that it won’t,” he said quietly.

“I know that.” She dropped her eyes from his. He slid his free hand under her chin to bring her eyes back up to meet his.

“But I do promise you that I will always do my best to come home to you.” He pulled her face down to his, capturing her lips with his.

“I know that too,” she said as she rested her forehead against his. Sherlock waited another heart beat before he took her face in both his hands and pulled her back so he could look her in the eyes.

“I won’t abandon Mary.”

“I don’t want you to,” she said, gripping his wrists. “You’re her best chance.” She leaned forward and kissed him again. He lifted his chin, deepening the kiss and sliding his tongue across hers. “Sherlock!” she breathed heavily pulling back from him.

“All you would have to do is unplug my heart monitor,” he said trying hard not to laugh.

“Not a chance!”

--

Over the next several weeks the only way Molly had been able to convince Sherlock to stay in the hospital was by agreeing to let him turn his room into what Wiggins was calling “Head Quarters” – every surface was covered in some kind of newspaper clipping or journal article. Every time she stopped by, the nurses were complaining and threatening to kick Wiggins out and throw everything away.

“Alright,” Molly clapped her hands as she walked into his room. “Doctors say you get to come home tomorrow!” She bounced slightly as she talked, her excitement poring over. “Mina will be so happy – we’ve missed you so much.” She leaned over and planted a kiss on him, but he barely responded. “What’s wrong?” she asked, sitting down next to him on the bed.

“I can’t come home.” He gently placed his hands on hers.

“Your doctor said that he explained everythin –  ”

“He did,” he interrupted her. “I get to leave the hospital, but I’m not coming home…I’m going to Baker Street.”

“What?!” Molly jumped to her feet, irritation and confusion flooding her. “Sherlock, you are still recovering – you need to be home.”

“I’m not putting you two in that kind of danger right now – me going to Baker Street is what is safest for all of us.” He stretched his hand out to her, but she took a step back, tears filling her eyes. “Molly…I need to make sure you two are safe.” He watched as she wrung her hands, tears now falling down her cheeks.

“Do you think that I don’t know the risks that come with being with you?” she asked softly. “Because I do…and I still choose you.” Sherlock sighed and stood up, collecting Molly in his arms. They clung to each other in silence as Molly’s tears dried. “Please, come home.”

“I can’t.”

[ivyanderscn]

COURTNEY EATON   ,   CIS FEMALE   ,   SHE/HER         →         according   to   the   school   records   ,   IVY HAEATA ANDERSON   has   been   attending   sacred   heart   for   the   past   three years   .   i   last   saw   them   hanging   around   the john bracken library   ;   i   think   they   were   writing poetry in a leather-bound notebook   .   at   twenty one   years   old   ,   ivy   has   been   studying   english literature  and   get   this   ,   i   heard   that   she roams the tunnels when plagued by insomnia in the dead of night   —   figure   it’s   true   ?   everyone   around   here   always   associates   them   with   faded photographs with illegible writing on the back, shaky hands clutching a bouquet of wilted flowers, and the soft sound of rain hitting the roof   .   in   the   time   since   these   strange   happenings   ,   they   have   encountered   unexplained   occurrences    .         (   written   by   rose   ,   23   ,   she/her   ,   est   )

hello lovelies!! my name is rose and apparently i like plant names because this is ivy! i’m super excited to be here. like this and i’ll hit you up to plot!! (or you can dm me, my discord is scoops troops#4933)

tw for death, bullying

- ivy grew up in kaikoura, new zealand. her mother was also raised in kaikoura, while her father was from england. they met as students at the university of canterbury. they had always known that after they graduated, he would go back to the uk, but what they hadn’t planned on was her mother becoming pregnant with ivy. (it was very scandalous, especially given that this was 1952). he had a promising job offer back in england so he left, leaving ivy’s mother and grandmother to raise her. she had a happy childhood in a beautiful beachside town, raised by two women she loved and admired. ivy did go to england every year to spend the summer with her father, and while she didn’t have the best relationship with him, she knew he loved her in his own way.

- when ivy was 11, her mom died. it was extremely devastating for both her and her grandmother. ivy had always been shy, but the loss made her retreat even further into herself. she had always loved reading, and after her mother’s death books became her best friends. she began reading at an advanced level and always had her nose in a book. it wasn’t long before she started writing, too, mostly journaling but also short stories and poetry (the kind of stuff she looks back on now and cringes, but was decent for an 11 year old). a couple years after her mother died, ivy found a box filled with dozens of her mother’s journals. she’s read every page at least five times, and sometimes will look through them to see what her mother was doing on that day however many years ago. they helped ivy feel close to her mom, and the profound impact that they had on her inspired her to become a writer.

- ivy’s shyness made her kind of an easy target in terms of bullying, a seemingly never-ending stream of insults and name calling, and for a long time she just took it because she didn’t think there was any other way to deal with it. but one day when she was in high school, some boys said some… less than savory things about her mom (small town, young single mother, people suck, etc. etc.) and she flipped out. like all of this anger that even ivy didn’t know was bubbling under the surface just kind of exploded. it was so shocking to people, for this sweet, quiet girl to become so loud and angry, that they found it amusing and the bullying got worse. 

- her grandmother was her rock, but she decided she wanted to get as far away from there as she could, and her father suggested she look at universities in the uk. ivy wasn’t sure what drew her to sacred heart, but it just felt like the place she was supposed to be.

- given how shy ivy is, she’s not always the easiest to get to know and she doesn’t have a lot of friends. she’s definitely a wallflower type (wow my subconscious really named this wallflower after a plant that grows on walls, idk how to feel about this lsakdjfhsldkfjhsd) and she typically lets other people take the lead in conversations. she comes across as mousy, in a sweet sort of way. but for the people who actually do get to know her, she’s an extremely kind and loyal person. she’s really passionate about literature and art and music and history and if you’re talking about any of that? all of a sudden she won’t shut up. she doesn’t handle strong emotions well, like she definitely happy cries. and angry cries. and tired cries. basically she cries a lot. her anger is a lot more in check than it was when she was a teenager, but if she feels like someone or something she cares about has been disrespected she will lash out quite suddenly. (and then go cry about it). she’s kind of a mess, emotionally speaking, the one thing that really helps her handle that is writing about her feelings, and she journals religiously. 

- a few quick headcanons: she listens to music like 92% of the time and you can thank her dad for a deep love of britpop and jazz. she loves baking and if she has access to an oven she’ll probably give you cookies on a regular basis. she’s left handed and the side of her hand is always covered in ink smudges. she’ll do stupid things because she thinks it will be good inspiration for a story, when in reality, she’s just being stupid. she has terrible insomnia and sometimes reads encyclopedias to try to fall asleep. she likes to hide behind a camera and take pictures of other people to avoid having pictures taken of her. cannot sing to save her life. loves black coffee and cigarettes and is in denial that beatniks aren’t cool anymore. is pretty much always carrying around a book. scribbles in the margins of everything. her new zealand accent is noticeable but not thick, and is gradually fading the longer she’s in the uk. 

and more aesthetics because it was really hard to narrow down to three: dirt underneath your fingernails, tear-stained cheeks, getting lost in a museum, messy hair, always being cold, stargazing, oversized wool sweaters, preferring to listen rather than speak, homesickness.

wanted connections:

ride or die!!, fairly self-explanatory, someone she can be 100% herself around and in exchange for their love and friendship she’d, you know,  die for them

close friends, pretty much the same thing??

someone she knew from her summers in england!! (i’m pretending that new zealand has their extended school break during the northern hemisphere summer ok)

roommate, i don’t know which would be better, them getting along or them hating each other

enemy/annoyance, it’s not exactly easy to piss her off but once you do she is pissed

writing buddies?? like they share their work with each other and give notes and stuff, maybe in some sort of club?

some sort of mentor? a lit professor would be great but really anyone who teaches the arts/humanities, bonus points for cultists

a professor who hates her, she’s such a goody goody that would really kill her

bad boy meets good girl, honestly i’m a sucker for this trope, i love mess what can i say

really any kind of opposites attract situation, romantic or platonic

flirtationship, she’s really not good at being upfront about how she feels but maybe she’ll write something that’s the poetry version of subtweeting about them, she’s angsty as fuck

exes, just more mess and angst please and thank you

idk if this is too sadistic but maybe the wrong corner of a love triangle? like, the corner that gets left behind when the triangle becomes a line (i can’t do geometry analogies i’m sorry) just a thought because...mess

literally anything, i’m not picky, i want it all

[maglana-x]

a kind face

DESC.: Arthur Morgan helps a woman trapped under her horse, and claims a better reward than he expected.

CHARACTERS: Arthur Morgan, Alice Stanton (OC).

WARNINGS: Dubcon.

Valentine wasn’t much to look at, in Arthur’s opinion. He had never been fond of livestock towns and the stench of animal shit that lingered in the air. The people were awful and weren’t fond of outsiders, though in their defence, Arthur had beat a man to a bloody pulp on his very first trip to the town. It had been a relief when Trelawny had given them the lead on Sean MacGuire’s whereabouts; while Arthur hadn’t been keen on going anywhere near Blackwater ever again, it was good to save Sean from inevitable hanging. The bloodbath they had created in the bounty hunter’s camp was good for the stress too, Arthur thought.

“Are you coming with us, Arthur?” Javier’s voice pulled him from his thoughts, and Arthur saw the man climbing onto his horse as Sean talked Charles’ ear off. Wanting to spare himself from the Irishman’s endless chatter, Arthur shook his head. 

“I’m going to see what’s worth taking from here,” Arthur announced, watching Sean climb onto the back of Boaz and ramble on about the amount of stories that he had to tell. Javier had exasperation painted all over this face as he followed Charles down the trail, trying not to give Sean too much attention. Arthur whistled for Boadicea, walking over to a body laying nearby to loot the bounty hunter as the American Standardbred made its way toward him, the Buckskin coat horse whining as it halted nearby. Arthur did a quick sweep of the camp; there wasn’t much. The man decided to leave before the law or more bounty hunters showed up, he spurred his horse toward the trail to make a getaway.

Perhaps he should head toward Strawberry, he wouldn’t arrive back in camp until nightfall and he didn’t quite feel like partying with Sean. He knew there would be a party; there was always a party when something like this happened. The hotel in Strawberry wasn’t awful, it would do for a night.

“You’re alright, girl,” Arthur mumbled, brushing his horse with his hand briefly before reaching into his satchel; the man had picked up some oatcakes from the general store in Valentine earlier in the day. After all the riding they had done today alone, Boadicea deserved a treat. She ate right from his hand and he praised her more; there wasn’t much that he cared about more than his horse. Arthur almost didn’t hear the cries and calls for help nearby, and he halted Boadicea. The shouting was louder and belonged to a woman, and Arthur left the main trail to move toward the noise. On a less clear dirt track that he likely would have missed if not for the cries, Arthur came across a dead horse. It was a large shire horse, and underneath it laid a woman. She was alive, and looked relieved to see him. 

“Oh, thank the Lord! Can you help me sir?” She asked, looking up at him with sore eyes. The woman had been crying, Arthur noted. He couldn’t imagine what it must be like to be trapped under a horse in wolf infested woods. “My horse, poor thing, he up and died on me.” She explained the obvious situation, and Arthur sighed; he couldn’t walk away from this with a clear conscience. 

“Sure, why not.” He replied, climbing down from his horse and walking toward her. “How long have you been out here?” He questioned, watching the woman as she sat up more and helped him push the heavy beast from her leg. It was a struggle, and Arthur felt himself straining as he lifted the horse up enough for the woman to pull her leg free.

“Oh my, that’s it! I was there for hours, sir, I couldn’t quite tell you how long,” She answered, and Arthur offered the woman a hand. He pulled her to her feet, and the poor thing’s face scrunched up in pain as she stood on the injured leg. “I was terrified that wolves would find me before anyone else did, thank you sir!” She grinned, practically throwing herself at Arthur to hug him. It was odd and unwelcomed contact; he made that very clear as he tensed up. 

“Do you want a ride home, ma’am?” He offered, though honestly he would much prefer to leave her here as she seemed to be the chatty type. He had intentionally avoided it with Sean, but Sean wasn’t a lady in clear distress. The woman’s eyes lit up and Arthur already knew her answer before her big mouth opened. 

“I would really appreciate that, thank you! I knew you had a kind face!” She beamed, and Arthur mounted Boadicea without another word. He offered the woman his hand and pulled her up onto the back of his horse. He predicted it well enough, she was the chatty type. He hadn’t even reached the end of the trail to the main track before she was going on about how she had raised her horse since it was a filly.

“I live just west of Emerald Ranch, sir. I know it’s far away, but I have some money in the house as a reward.” She informed him, and Arthur felt like kicking himself. This better be some reward, he thought. At least she wouldn’t talk for the entire time, right?

**

A few hours later, Arthur couldn’t help but feel so incredibly wrong about Alice Stanton. They were halfway there, by it was dark now and too dangerous to keep riding on. There were wild animals and O’Driscoll’s around the idea, he didn’t feel like getting himself or this innocent woman killed. He had explained to her that they needed to stop and set up a camp for the night; she seemed hesitant but agreed with Arthur, assisting him as much as she could on her injured ankle. She wasn’t as useless as he had anticipated, she knew how to set up a tent at the very least. She focused on setting up Arthur’s bedroll inside as he collected wood for a campfire. 

Did she still talk the entire time? Yes, she did. Alice blabbered on about how she used to go camping with her older brothers all the time, and Arthur honestly considered gagging the woman until the morning. It wasn’t the first time he considered it, there had been a point where she got off of the horse to relieve herself and he had briefly considered leaving her there as she pissed behind a tree. She seemed to run her mouth a lot, and Arthur wondered if she could put it to better use. He rarely had thoughts about that, especially when it came to strangers, but Alice? Those painted red lips had to be good for something. He didn’t see why anyone would marry her if they couldn’t gag her on their cock to shut her up.

“... Mr Morgan? I have some ground coffee, if you want it?” She smiled, holding a tin out to him. He silently declined with a wave of his hand, returning his focus to lighting the fire. He had his own coffee and he would need it, given that Alice was going to sleep in the tent while he stayed awake. He may not have the mind of the gentleman, but he wasn’t going to show that by sleeping next to her in the tent. 

“Alright, well, if you change your mind it’ll be in my satchel.” She told him, gesturing to the bag that she had placed near the mouth of the tent. 

“Get some sleep, Miss Stanton. I want to pack up at first light.” Arthur informed her, and the woman nodded her head. At least she could take orders, he mused, watching her crawl into the tent. She didn’t secure the flaps of the tent; perhaps she thought he would join her? Arthur wasn’t so sure. He lit up the fire and sat back, deciding to document today in his journal. While she was certainly annoying, she was pretty to look at. Those lips he wanted to sew shut were plump and looked so soft, her eyes full of happiness even in such strange circumstances. He didn’t understand how she could be so happy after everything she had gone through, not only with her horse but because she was a widow. She seemed quite young, though, she couldn’t be much older than Sean but definitely younger than John. Arthur glanced toward the tent briefly, hearing the Alice’s soft snores, before returning to the portrait he had started in his journal.

As the night crawled by, Arthur had finished a rather detailed sketch of her in his journal and documented what he knew of her, and how annoying the encounter had been. He tucked his journal into his satchel again, looking around for his own tin of coffee before realising that he had run out. Of course, he sighed, he would have to take hers. Arthur was quiet as he reached into the tent, not wanting to wake the talkative woman, and retrieved her satchel. He could always put it back later, rather than dig around for her coffee at an arm’s length away from her.

Her satchel didn’t have much. Coffee, biscuits, a coin purse and photo of who Arthur could only assume was her husband -- a journal too. It was a light brown leather bound book slightly smaller but thicker than Arthur’s journal; he’d be lying if he said that he didn’t want a peek at the pages. Alice had already told him her life story, what could be in here that he didn’t know? Arthur set the satchel down between his legs as he opened the first page of her journal; a checklist of groceries to collect from the market, the date in the corner telling him that the journal was purchased or at least started only two months ago. 

Arthur flicked through the pages; she wasn’t much of an artist, he noted, but a particular page caught his attention. There was a photo between the pages of a naked woman, Arthur could tell from the face that it wasn’t Alice. On the back of the photo the name ‘Hilda O’Neil’ was written in neat cursive above a year. 1898. Arthur looked at the actual journal, reading what the woman had written. His eyes widened as the woman documented her exploits with Hilda, and the images that filled Arthur’s mind certainly weren’t unwelcomed. The woman went into detail about how she and Hilda grinded on each other, kissing like their lives depended on it. Hilda had something Alice called ‘heavenly labium’ that had shown her a ‘new realm of pure bliss’ that she had never experienced before.

Alice was a lesbian, Arthur assumed, until he tucked the photo of Hilda back into the pages and turned to the next one.

Alice must like both men and women, based on the photo of a well-endowed man named ‘Dennis Malone’ taken this year. He had heard of men who document all the women they had laid with, but this was the first time that Arthur had heard of a woman doing the same thing rather than call it disgusting. Again, the widow went into detail about her exploits. Rather than be on her knees lapping at Hilda’s cunt, Alice was bent over her kitchen table as Dennis railed her. The woman went into detail about the things that Dennis had done to her, including degrading her as she sucked his engorged shaft. Arthur was mildly relieved to know that he wasn’t alone in the fantasy of putting Alice’s mouth to better use.

As he turned the page again, he expected to see a photo of a man or woman again, but only saw more writing. She was explaining a dream -- well, a fantasy -- that she had experienced about a strong, handsome stranger. The man broke into her home in the middle of the night and pinned her to her bed, his mask pulled over his face as he ripped the nightdress from her body. She whispered ‘no’ but she meant yes, she wanted the bandit to completely ravish her. That’s just what the man did, pulling his ‘throbbing beast’ from his trousers and fucking Alice until she saw stars. Arthur read on, the fantasy only becoming more and more graphic. 

He glanced toward the tent again before unbuttoning his trousers, pulling his cock out; the outlaw was semi-hard and flipped the page, seeing another photo. With one hand wrapped around his own shaft, he examined the photo and realised that it was of Alice herself. The woman was completely nude, one hand grasping a large breast and the other spreading her labia. She looked like she was about to be fucked, or perhaps use her fingers to pleasure herself. The look of seduction on her face made Arthur groan lowly as he stroked himself; he had to have her. 

He closed the journal and left it beside her satchel, not bothering to stand and just crawl into the tent. There wasn’t much light, but in the minimal glow of the fire behind him, he could see that Alice was asleep on her side facing the wall of the tent. There was enough room for Arthur to lay behind her, and Arthur decided that he would do so after he prepared her. He lifted her skirt and petticoats with one hand, exposing the woman’s lack of drawers. Instead, the woman wore a pair of blue cotton stockings that reached just other her knees. As he lifted her skirt over her ass, he realised that she was wearing a shorter pair of split cotton and lace drawers that buttoned up at both the front and back; Arthur popped the buttons easily, pulling one half the garment down her thigh. 

His hand roamed over her asscheeks then her thighs, her skin was so soft and perfect. Arthur heard her stir, goosebumps breaking out over her skin as the cool air of the night finally reached her exposed lower body. Arthur moved his hand back to his cock, stroking to get himself fully erect; she had a fantasy and he had needs, caused largely by his own intrusion into her journal. Not waiting a moment longer, Arthur lifted her thigh up, slowly until her snatch was exposed to the cool night air. He positioned himself so that his cock rubbed against her folds; she was wet and he hadn’t even touched her yet.

“M-Mr Morgan?” Alice’s tired, trembling voice made him look at her; she was staring over her shoulder at him. He could feel her eyes on him; and Arthur shushed her quietly. “What… Why?” She questioned, her arm moving and he expected her to push him away; instead her arm held her own leg up by the knee, giving his hand better movement. His hand held his cock again, rubbing the tip along her slit and teasing over her entrance.

“Read that journal of yours,” Arthur admitted, pressing his chest against her back and moving his other arm underneath her; Alice propped herself up slightly as the head of his cock pushed into her cunt, and his hands pulled open the front of her shirt. He didn’t think about the consequences, and also tore open her camisole in order to fondle her breasts as he bucked his hips, jutting his cock deeper into her. She was wet but not quite enough, but Arthur didn’t mind too much.

“Saw that photo of ya, had to have a piece.” He mumbled, lips latching onto her neck. Alice groaned, pushing her hips back as Arthur pulled back, one hand moving down to rub her clit. “You should be glad I’m not gagging you, with the way you’ve been running your mouth all day.” Arthur stated, though he noted that she was unusually non-vocal aside from the little moans.

Perhaps this was something that Alice was heavily accustomed to? Being woken by a lover in the dead of night to fuck, perhaps she was used to needing to keep quiet during her scandalous rendezvous? It also left Arthur wondering what kind of man could pin such a harlot down in a marriage; but Alice’s sharp gasp as Arthur thrust harder and deeper into her cunt brought him back to reality. 

“Mr Morgan, if you wanted me to be quiet… You could have just asked me!” Her voice was strained as she spoke, with Arthur attempting to bury himself balls deep in her cunt, it was clearly hard to remain coherent. “I could put my mouth to better use…” She sounded so seductive; Arthur bit into her neck lightly, his teeth nipping at her skin. It drew a shuddering breath from Alice’s lips, barely a moan, barely anything. He decided to give her something to remember him by; a thing or two, perhaps. 

“Oh, Mr Morgan…” She groaned as Arthur sucked and nipped at the soft skin, her throat clearly sensitive in the best way as his mouth set about marking her. Property, at least for the night. His property. It became increasingly easier to fuck her, too. Her cunt slickening up and allowing his cock better access easier, slipping almost balls deep into her. He couldn’t help the groan that escaped him; the noise vibrating the tender skin of her neck. 

When Arthur was satisfied that her skin would bruise from his kiss, Arthur planted his hands either side of her trembling torso and began to fuck her harder; more dedicated thrusts into her snatch. It was for his pleasure alone, of course, but every groan and gasp was encouragement. It was letting him know that he was doing good; although he was simply being selfish. 

“You like that?” Arthur’s voice rumbled, low yet powerful, his eyes meeting Alice’s own as he thrust so mercilessly. Her eyes, full of pleasure, were barely open anymore. He could vividly see the glint of light reflecting in those orbs, and her soft lips parted as she moaned in ecstasy. 

“Yes,” She cried. “Yes, yes!” She repeated, and repeated again a few more times, only interrupted when Arthur’s strong palm connected with her soft asscheeks; the slap echoed lightly through the tent. His fingers dug into the skin, spreading her cheeks briefly before his hand crashed into the reddening skin once again; her gasping lost in the bliss. 

It had been so long since Arthur could spend a night with a woman like Alice, so long since he had stopped and dedicated himself to the pleasure that he so deserved. He needed his release and he knew that he wasn’t far from reaching it; the way Alice’s cunt hugged and squeezed his cock as he worked her like a whore was getting him there like a speeding train. 

“Good girl,” Arthur grunted into her ear, one hand moving to her hip and gripping her hard; it might bruise, and her whimpers were like music to his ears. “What a fine bitch you turned out to be…” He mumbled, his lips pressing against the smooth skin just under her ear; his nose buried in her beautiful hair. His grunts grew more jagged until eventually his hips just bucked wildly against hers; grinding to a halt as he blew his load deep inside of the woman below him. 

“M-Mr Morgan!” Alice gasped, she hadn’t quite expected this from him. She could feel Arthur’s hot cum inside of her; he was filling her up without a single care in the world for the consequences. She bit her lip, hands digging into his back as he emptied himself. 

“Get some rest,” Alice muttered to Arthur as he laid on her, catching his breath and regaining his senses. He rolled off of her, laying beside her; his cock softening against his thigh. Heavens, this woman was as good as she claimed to be; even when she laid there to be fucked like a piece of meat. A dark chuckle escaped him, and he used her tattered camisole to clean himself. 

“Goodnight, Miss Stanton.”