#first farmer was a lady who married abigail

[whereistheonepiece]

Finally got to eight hearts with Elliott in Stardew. Helped that I got to give him the Stardew equivalent of a Christmas gift after wooing him with duck feathers and lobsters all year.

Gave him a bouquet after he did a reading of his book. Poor man can't write for shit, but that's okay, so long as he's happy.

[journal-of-an-outlaw]

Price to be Paid - Chapter 31

Wahoo my favorite chapter, read on AO3

The bliss from your wedding could only last so long, and you knew that, but it didn’t lessen the blow when things had to return to normal. 

“This is it, Dutch, our last big score!”

Hosea had poured over a map of Saint Denis for days mapping every possible route into the bank, the job Dutch claimed over and over was going to save the gang. 

“I’m telling you, this is the way to do the job. The best way! The distraction will buy you all the time you need.”

Arthur groaned from underneath you. You had fallen asleep in the morning sun and the voices from downstairs carried far too much for your liking, waking you up to the harsh light of day. 

“All they talk about lately is that damn job,” Arthur muttered. “If I heard ‘Saint Denis bank’ one more time I am going to lose it.”

“Arthur!” Dutch yelled from the bottom of the stairs. “Get down here, we need your help with this.”

The past few weeks since your wedding had been as blissful as they could when you lived with a large group of people on the run from the law. You and Arthur had enjoyed many free days where no one asked a thing of you. The lake was the perfect spot for picnics and more than once Arthur had suggested you slip away and relax at the water side. It was perfect and everything you could hope it would be.

But all good things had to end. 

“I’m coming! Arthur hollered back. He groaned as he sat up and you decided it was best to greet the day as well. 

“You know they trust you, that’s what they’re trying to say,” you spoke as you dressed. 

“They sure have a strange way of showing it.”

You were quick to follow Arthur down the stairs, greeting folks as they passed. Most were still rubbing the sleep from their eyes or drinking a cup of coffee. 

“I...I don’t like it.”

Dutch’s hesitation was palpable. For days he had been telling Hosea something about this job felt off, his intuition saying this was not the way. It struck you as odd because Dutch had been searching for one more score, one big was out and when presented with the idea he shrugged it off. 

You leaned against the doorframe watching Arthur approach the bickering old men. They went back and forth, agreeing and disagreeing about the best way to proceed. 

“It’s the right plan. We’ve done the work. I’ve been in town, looking, watching and waiting. I’ve tested it as well as I can. It’s the right plan.”

“I know,” Dutch chucked at how worked up Hosea had become. “I know. But between us, I’m...nervous. I suppose that’s it.”

Hosea placed a hand on Dutch’s shoulder and squeezed. “You’re never nervous, that’s been my job all these years.”

It was clear Hosea was leading this robbery. He had timed the whole operation out and wanted it to move like clockwork, each cog and arm greased up and ready to go. You could see a younger man shining through; one who spent days and weeks putting heists together, using each member of the gang in s specific sequence so everything would be just right. 

As the three men got to talking, Micah walked in and watched behind you. It was unpleasant to have him over your shoulder but you remembered your vow to keep the peace with him as best you could.

“What’re they planning in there?”

“Bank job. Last one to get us out of here,” you responded softly. 

“The big bank? In Saint Denis?” Micah scoffed. “That’s one lofty goal for our ragtag crew, don’t you think?”

You shrugged. “I don’t know, Hosea has it all planned out. What could go wrong?”

“Oh, girlie, there’s plenty could go wrong. But let’s hope none of it does and we make out on top.” Micah shot you a wink that made you shutter and walked back out the front doors, taking off for somewhere or something in town. 

“Every plan is a good plan if we execute it properly. Every problem we ever had was because we did not execute properly.”

Hosea spoke impassioned. He needed Dutch to see he was right. 

“You’re right.” Dutch stood dramatically and looked between his lifelong partners in crime. “Let’s rob this bastard. We’ll leave tomorrow morning. Look smart. Travel light.” 

The leader passed you with a half smile before going to track down Mrs. Grimshaw and Pearson to tell them of the new plan. At least we had some notice this time and didn’t have to throw everything around in a hurry. 

Arthur asked you to help clean the room and you packed together, chatting to keep the nerves away. There had been a moment where he wanted you to go with Hosea and stay away from the action but you refused; if your husband was going in so were you. He didn’t fight you on that very long. 

The thought of leaving Shady Belle filled you with melancholy. It was strange to think that one building could hold so many memories from just a short time. The gang really hadn’t been there that long but they had managed to make a lasting impact that could be seen as you walked the halls for one of the last times. You had to look forward; things would be better. How much more suffering and pain could one group take?

You found Abigail playing outside with Jack later in the evening, staring up at the night sky and admiring the stars. You plopped down next to her and tilted your own head back, thinking about the heavens. 

“You ever wonder if our destinies are planned?”

“I sure hope not. To think that someone put all of this together for us means we have no free will, no choice would be our own. And they would put us through all that pain!”

“Sometimes...I guess it’s just nice to think that I wasn’t the one who made all the mistakes in my life. That I could blame someone else for the way things turned out.”

Abigail spoke in hushed tones but never looked down from the sky. Her words echoed in your mind. 

“Your life isn’t full of mistakes, it’s full of love.”

“Yeah,” she snorted. “Sometimes a bit too much love if you know what I mean.”

She and John had been fighting again. From your shared room with Arthur you could hear them through the walls going on about raising Jack and trying to show him a better life. 

“Jack will be just fine, he’s got a lot of us who care. And so will you. You know I’ll never leave, you’ve got a friend for life.” You wrapped your arm around her shoulders and sat like that, enjoying the view and marveling at the size of the world around you. 

It was hard to sleep that night. 

You tossed and turned with anticipation of the next day, knowing everything would be different after the sun rose up in the sky. It could be a good change; like fire burning away the underbrush to allow for new life. Or it could be disastrous. 

The dichotomy of the choices made you restless. 

Arthur shook your shoulder gently that it was time to go. It was much too early, and the terrible night of sleep made it hard to drag your body from the warm bed and you tossed it a sad smile knowing it was the last time you would see the room you called home. 

The look on your face must have told Arthur something for he gave your hand a squeeze after you met him at the bottom of the stairs. 

“You know what?” He looked at you softly. “At the end of today, we’re going to look back and know we did everything right. We faced the day together as wife and husband. I’m never letting you go.”

With a kiss to your hand you felt your confidence rise back into place. All it needed was a boost from Arthur. Today was going to go smoothly, nothing could bring you down from the high of life you were riding. 

Everyone was dressed to the nines. Fine black suits with hats for the men, and clean flowing gowns adorned every woman. It was almost as if you were headed to a Sunday mass instead of a bank robbery. Even Jack had found a flower to stick in his coat pocket. 

“You got everything Arthur?” Dutch called as he handed Hosea a suitcase to load into a wagon. 

Arthur nodded. “Sure, house is cleared out of everything we could grab.”

“Just think!” Hosea spoke up brightly. “Within six weeks we’ll be living life anew in a tropical idyll spending the last of our days as banana farmers?”

The plan was for Hosea and Abigail to serve as the distraction. On their wagon sat crates of dynamite that when lit, would bring enough police attention that the robbery in town wouldn’t be able to pull them all away, giving the group enough time to slip out unnoticed. Hosea had looked over the details for days on end and everyone trusted him to know this plan backwards and forwards, no small part missed. 

You were riding in and acting with the robbery. At first, Arthur had asked that you go with Hosea and Abigail for they were far less likely to be caught. But to you that was out of the question. Now that you and Arthur were married you didn’t want him running off into battle alone, something you had to repeat over and over before Hosea finally relented and added you to the bank detail. It just made sense that you would be there. 

With your nerves shoved to the back of your mind, you sat next to Arthur on Eclipse as Zues stamped his feet anxiously.  

“Let’s get out of this god forsaken place and go rob ourselves a bank!”

A chorus of cheers rang out as the gang envisioned what life could be like after today. No more running and hiding, no more threats from the law, no more being told that their way of life was wrong or backwards, just freedom and the incredible feeling of hot sand between your toes. 

You were more than ready to be out of this place. 

Micah led the group up and out of Shady Belle, the horses moving much quicker than the wagons. It was slightly comical to watch a large group in impressive threads leave such a ratty and worn down home. Over the past few weeks you decided firmly that sleeping with four walls around you was a comfort you preferred. 

“This is it, ladies and gentlemen! The last one.”

Dutch was gearing up for a big speech as he rode behind Micah. 

“Where have we heard that one before?” John asked, a hint of sarcasm in his voice. 

“What has happened to you, John? You lost all your heart.”

“I’m just trying to stay real about all of this.”

“Real!” Dutch spit. “Oh how I detest that word. So devoid of imagination.”

The group rode over the railroad tracks and your heartbeat started to pick up. This was real, you were taking part in a bank robbery. Oh if only your father could see you now. The lawman’s rebel daughter. 

“How soon are we shipping out?” Micah called from somewhere ahead. 

Dutch replied, “As soon as we get the passage organized. A boat down to Argentina, then another around the cape.”

“What about the money in Blackwater? We’re just gonna leave that behind?”

“Forget that, it's gone.” Dutch swiped a fly and the question away. “You all talk like it’s the only goddamned money in the world. We’re gonna take that and more, take it from the people who take it from us. This isn’t some hick town, hundred dollar operation. This is a big city bank!”

“Right,” John broke in. “With security, guards, police.”

“Hosea has done his reconnaissance,  we’ve been over this.” Dutch almost sounded tired. “The plan. One last time. Hosea and Abigail will draw out the police, we go in fast and calm. John and Lenny, secure the front doors. Javier takes the side exit. Bill, Micah, YN, and Charles, control the crowd. Me and Arthur deal with the bank manager and the vault. Got it?”

Everyone agreed that they did. Most of the other women were leaving with the camp supplies and not participating, and the look Dutch gave you was not lost as he took in his crew. 

Hosea reckoned they needed about fifteen minutes to set the distraction with Abigail and pull enough police and that sounded fine by Dutch. As the others rode off with the wagons, Sadie threw you a smile of encouragement and you spurred Eclipse on to keep up with the others. Nothing, not even your nerves, would hold you back from this job. 

Arthur had talked about when to tell Dutch that maybe sailing to another part of the world was not in the cards for you two, but it still hadn’t come up. Before the bank job seemed a poor choice as it would only take away Dutch’s focus, so tentatively the plan was set for later. There was a lot to think about lately and that was just another worry to add to the pile. 

“Everybody know the drill! We head in hard and stay calm. They won’t be expecting us. Any minor trouble, head back to camp. We’ll leave in a few days.”

Your nerves must have really been showing through as even Micah threw you a half grin. It wasn’t pleasant, but you accepted it nonetheless. 

Bill and Charles rode ahead to break up the group, hoping that it wouldn't look like a giant posse riding in together. The five of you left held back a few minutes and then rode into town, through the gates of Saint Denis and into the belly of the beast. You couldn't tell if your shaking hands had more to do with being on horseback or the impending mission, but you steeled them to stay still as you moved through the streets. 

Arthur pulled Zeus back and rode next to you. 

“How’re you doing?” 

Despite the bundle of nerves moving through your veins you had to smile. Arthur was clearly a bit worked up about the whole thing too; his words had a slight twang to them as he spoke. 

“Oh, I’m fine. I remember what you taught me. Just…” you looked around and remembered the first time you marveled at Saint Denis. “What if something happens?”

“It won’t, I promise you’ll be safe. Hosea went over this so many times he knew we had to get it right.”

You nodded. You had heard him mumbling the details for days.

Before you could respond your destination came into view and your mouth went dry. Lemoyne National Bank. The imposing building stood nearly three stories high with gold and white paint covering the exterior. The sun beating down was hot and you wiped beads of sweat off your brow after hitching Eclipse up next to Arthur and Bill. 

Charles made his way over. “Just wanted to say good luck. I know you’ll be fine, but...you know.” 

You smiled at your friend. His words brought you comfort even though they were minimal, but knowing Charles this was the equivalent of a long speech. You patted his arm in thanks and followed the group over to Dutch. 

“Foks. Robbing thieves, it ain’t no crime at all. People like this...they stole what this country could have been.” The men grunted in agreeance. “Now, act natural. Wait for Hosea to do his thing.”

As a trolley rolled slowly in front of you Arthur took your hand in his. 

“Now, it ain’t too late and no one would say a thing if you decided to leave. I’ll put you on this trolley and collect you myself as soon as we’re done and we can leave; put this city behind us and head off to freedom. You just have to say the word.”

You searched Arthur’s eyes and saw nothing but love and worry. The beautiful way the blue and green and maybe in the right light grey mixed together filled you with happiness and you knew your answer before speaking. On your tiptoes, you pressed a kiss to Arthur’s cheek and beamed at him. 

“You know I’m staying. I’ll be right at your side.”

Just as Arthur opened his mouth to speak the ground shook violently below you. You grabbed Arthur’s arm for support as the screams and voices rose through the city. 

Dutch let out a full laugh. “I love that Hosea! He’s a true artist.”

And with that, he led the way across the road and into Lemoyne National Bank. 

You pulled your mask up over your face, hands still slightly shaking. Javier whispered something before slipping around the corner to guard the side door, and on his signal Dutch burst through the bank doors, pistols drawn. 

“Ladies and gentlemen! This is a hold up.”

The room was filled with screams and the bustling of shoes on the tile as you aimed your gun at the innocent folks going about their day, corralling them back into an office to be locked up and unable to disrupt the robbery in progress. Bill was stuck with a particularly loud customer, so you poked the end of your gun into his back to shut him up, shoving him into the room. You got a grunt of thanks from Bill as he locked the doors. 

“Arthur! We have found the manager. Would you kindly have him open the vault?” 

A man dressed in a long purple coat shook like a leaf as he twisted and turned the dial to find the correct combination. He looked around the room for any willing pair of eyes but no one was able to help, simply sneered as he pleaded silently with Arthur’s gun only inches away from his face. 

The air was tense around you as John and the others patrolled the entryway. All of them were on the lookout for anything suspicious outside, any sign that this wasn’t going to work. But it had to. It simply had to; this was much too large of a show to go off with a hitch. 

A loud scraping sound resonated as the vault door creaked open with the poor bank manager pulling as hard as he could. Arthur cast you a look before heading in, his brow filled with worry to get this over with as soon as possible. You sent him a small smile, hoping he could read it under your bandana, and nodded for him to go on. 

Anxiety pumped through you. The bank manager stood outside and at Bill’s command called out the combination, his legs shaking from the stress. The seconds ticking away felt like hours and you wanted nothing more than to run away from all of this mess. 

“We got trouble! Looks like the law.”

Your head whipped around at John’s yell. His voice was tense and Dutch ran over to get a good look at the situation with anger and fear in his eyes. The others were quickly behind him. 

Everyone knew this operation had to be executed precisely. Anything short of perfection would mean failure and a real risk of death. With Hosea’s attention to detail and the way everyone knew their part Dutch had been confident this would go off without any problems. He already felt the warm, island air rustling through his hair, the grainy, hot sand beneath his feet, and the sweet, sticky mango juice bursting in his mouth. This was going to work. This had to work. Because if it didn’t, there was no way out. 

Unfortunately Dutch didn’t count on your father. 

“Come out! It’s over!” 

No, no, no, no. Not him, not now. Your heart pounded in your chest so hard you were sure the others heard it, and at the same time your stomach dropped down to your feet. How on Earth had he found you?

John said something about Abigail but a rushing sound filled your ears and you couldn’t make it out. Everyone had pressed themselves up against the wall in cover and you did the same, hoping you would be able to act when it came down to it. 

“Dutch! Get out here. Get out here now!”

A silence fell over the bank. Agent Milton walked out from behind a wagon across the street brandishing a pistol that was shoved into the back of Hosea’s head. Dutch let out a groan. 

“Someone must have squealed!” 

“We never should have gone after Bronte, Dutch,” John spat. His eyes were on the mother of his child just beyond his reach. 

“Mr. Milton?” Dutch’s voice lost its usual silk and instead was filled with fear, cracking slightly. “Let my friend go. Or folks are gonna get shot unnecessarily.”

“Your friend? Why would I do that?” Your father’s voice was loud and full of confidence. It sent slivers of fear through your spine as your mind raced. 

“C’mon, Milton!”

“It’s over! No more bargains, no more deals.”

“Mr. Milton, this is America. You can always cut a deal.” 

He was reaching his finale. Your father always loved making a show of capturing ‘the bad guys’ and you knew from his stance that you were running low on time. If someone didn’t do something Hosea would be dead, the rest of you following shortly. 

“Hey girly, remember way back when you and I made a deal?” Micah was standing much too close to your back for comfort and in your agitated state you tried to shake him off. This only made him mad and he grabbed your arm tightly in his grip. “You owe me, I’m cashing in. Only one way this thing and it’s with you outside of those doors while we escape.”

“What?” you asked, your mind racing and unable to comprehend his request.

“Daddy Dearest is out there about to blow us all to hell. We need a distraction and you are the golden ticket.”

You froze. Micah was asking, no, telling you to sacrifice yourself on the slim chance your father wouldn't kill you on sight. It was insanely risky, but it would give the gang and the people you had grown to love a chance, albeit slim, to get away safely. All around you were the tense faces of people who had time and time again proven they were good and loving, more than you could ever say for your own father who stood on the other side of the street with the power of the law behind him. In a way, you felt this had always been coming. Rushing towards you like a train in the night. Eventually it would have to reach its destination. Your hands shook as you realized that this might be the only plan, and you couldn’t risk the chance of your newfound family dying because you weren’t brave enough. Your father wouldn't listen to anyone else and as the seconds melted away you steeled yourself against the tide that would surely try and knock you over. 

“Well?” Micah shook you impatiently. 

You looked around. Dutch, Bill, Lenny, John, Javier...Arthur. These were people you would gladly sacrifice yourself for. Memories came flooding back of sitting around the campfire singing, hours spent in the fields hunting, and the times you and Abigail laughed yourselves silly. Your eyes watered at the thought of leaving, but it had to be done. 

“I’ll do it,” you spoke quietly. “But I have one request.”

“And what’s that?” 

Micah had started making his way to the door and Arthur, noticing you moving about, was heading towards you too. You met his eyes for a moment and you swore he knew what you were about to do. His footsteps picked up and you had to act. 

Leaving him was of course the hardest. Never had you imagined a love so brilliant and bright, and knowing that you were willingly throwing it all away tore you apart. The ring on your finger felt heavy with guilt but you clutched your gun tighter until Micah tore it from your hands. Arthur opened his mouth to whisper something and you knew waiting would make it worse. 

“Tell Arthur I love him.”

“I’ll be sure to do that,” Micah snorted and unceremoniously shoved you outside the giant bank doors before slamming them shut. Something on the other side slammed against them and you guessed it was Arthur, livid at the unexplained sight. A voice yelled something and then everything went quiet, and you looked up at the scene before you. 

Hosea stood in the middle of the street covered in dust and watching you with worried eyes. He shook his head slightly, telling you to leave, but you cast him a watery smile of reassurance. 

Behind him every gun held by the Pinkerton Detective agents was trained on you and ready to fire. You looked up and down the line realizing just how many there were. This had to be a set up, no one was ready that fast. 

A strangled cry that turned into a laugh came from the head Detective. He took a faltering step forward, then looked at you with utter bewilderment. 

“Put your guns down,” he said. The detectives looked over at him confused. “I said put them down!”

“Sir?” questioned one of the men to his side. 

“Because…” Agent Milton spoke slowly, still trying to process the change in events unfolding before him. 

You placed both hands up in the air and spoke with much more confidence than you felt. 

“Because I’m his daughter.” You looked directly at him, taking a deep breath before saying, “Hello, Father. Good to see you.”

[vanessakirbyfans]

As coldly drawn as an atlas yet no less capable of enflaming the imagination, Mona Fastvold’s “The World to Come” is a hard and brittle period love story that thaws into something much warmer — what its hyper-literate heroine would call “astonishment and joy” — as a merciless 19th-century winter blushes into a most unexpected spring.

Tuesday, January 1, 1856. Abigail (Katherine Waterston) mourns the daughter who was taken by diphtheria a few months prior, and journals about a world that feels barren in the young girl’s absence. “This morning, ice in our bedroom for the first time all winter,” she reads aloud in voiceover, offering the first excerpt from an interior monologue so pronounced that Fastvold’s romance often feels like an epistolary film written by a woman to herself. “The water froze on the potatoes as soon as they were washed. With little pride, and less hope, we begin the new year.”

And what a new year it will be for the ever-studious Abigail, an overgrown schoolgirl who likens her loneliness to “a library without books.” It will begin with new neighbors. It will bloom with new memories. And it will shudder with the tectonic aftershocks of a woman who — with no means of escaping her nook-like place in the world — dares to remap herself.

That cartography motif provides “The World to Come” with a clear sense of place from the moment it starts; the credits are scrawled above a map of upstate New York (played with patience and edenic possibility by the hills of Romania), and they give way to a valley so petrified in gray ice, even the slightest hints of color seem exotic. Embodied by a mealy-mouthed Casey Affleck (whose quietly moving performance as Abigail’s husk of a husband sneaks up on you), Dyer bristles against the depressive pall that’s settled around their house like it’s just another fallow period any farmer worth his beard could survive. “Contentment is like a friend he never gets to see,” Abigail notes in her journal with a novelist’s sense of invention, sketching the inner life of a spouse always less expressive than his shadow. They may be married, but what can that really mean to a woman who’s only met a handful of people in her life? At night, he grabs her breast and offers her another child. Abigail requests an atlas instead.

It could be worse. Abigail could be married to the more controlling Finney (Christopher Abbott), a jealous brute who’s just leased out the log cabin nearby and doesn’t appear to have any inner life at all. Not that his wife Tallie (Vanessa Kirby) would try to draw it out if he did. Unlike the bookish Abigail — who’s been raised to think of the world as a hidden empire built of ink and imagination — Tallie walks through life with her chin up, her cheeks flushed, and her hair caught in the wind. She is a woman less compelled by what she can imagine in her mind than what she can feel on her skin. Things like the webbing between Abigail’s fingers, which Tallie explores with unclear intentions as the two prairie housewives trade polite gossip about their husbands.

Has Tallie been with a woman before? Has any woman been with a woman before? Abigail doesn’t know the answers to these questions, or even how to ask them. All she knows is that the house seems warmer after Tallie’s visits. The swirling winds of Daniel Blumberg’s clarinet score — which can whip into a winter storm at a moment’s notice — grow as warm and soothing as an orange hearth. And a story that opens with the grief-stricken chill of a rustic horror movie starts to pull focus away from its monsters, eventually settling into a harsh but hypnotic love story less rewarding to watch than it is to remember.

In that respect, it differs from a recent spate of similar films. Critics — and this one speaks from experience — should be careful about relating every restrained sapphic romance to the likes of “Carol” or a Céline Sciamma movie. But Fastvold’s stiff knockout of a second feature (which arrives six years after “The Sleepwalker,” and trembles with the same intensity its filmmaker wrote into the scripts for “The Mustang” and “Vox Lux”) shares a common interest in female interiority and the sweet vertigo of falling in love. “The World to Come” takes that pioneer spirit and runs with it deep into the woods, even if its characters spend most of their lives standing in place, even if the movie around them — which entwines the furtive eroticism of “Portrait of a Lady on Fire” with the kerosene ache of “The Assassination of Jesse James by the Coward Robert Ford” — owes as much to the latter as it does any of its more obvious influences.

Without “Jesse James,” “The World to Come” literally wouldn’t exist. Andrew Dominik adapted the Western from a history book of the same name, sparking an artistic kinship between Affleck and author Ron Hansen — whose writing partner Jim Shepard got the idea for a novella about a forbidden affair when he found a note scribbled in the margins of an old farmer’s journal: “My best friend has moved away, I don’t think I will ever see her again.” When Hansen and Shepard offered Fastvold the script version, Affleck came with it, as did the implosive fatalism he brought to the role of Robert Ford, and the bitter survivalist mindset of living at nature’s mercy.

“The World to Come” is so withholding that the characters from “Portrait of a Lady on Fire” are practically sky-writing their emotions by comparison, and Fastvold’s film — despite its delicate lilt of a last scene — never detonates inside of you with remotely the same force. It’s jabbing and elliptical instead of lush and symphonic; old-fashioned where some of its predecessors have thrummed with contemporary zeal. No one filters drugs through armpits, or scissors their bodies into shapes that Abdellatif Kechiche might cut together. On the contrary, Abigail and Tallie are seldom onscreen together at all, and only in hindsight can we appreciate how charged the space between them is when they are. Fastvold shoots the movie at a polite and unfussy remove, the fuzzy vibrations of Andre Chemtoff’s 16mm cinematography hinting at an energy invisible to Abigail and Tallie’s husbands.

Many of the script’s most pivotal moments are folded into the margins like the two lines of chicken scratch that gave birth to these characters; each scene begins with the date scrawled across the scene as Abigail reads from her diary, and it isn’t until the end of the movie that you realize how much she’s kept hidden from us. It’s enough to know that she has access to it, and always will, but it’s also frustrating that we’re stuck watching some more ordinary histrionics instead. Abbott’s performance shivers with a sociopathic affectlessness, but “patriarchy incarnate” is thin gruel in a film where everyone else gets to play so many layers (even Affleck, who earns Dyer some hard-won dimension by the end). It’s not that his character doesn’t ring true, nor that Finney’s jealous chaos is at all contrived. Only that his destructive boorishness is such a plain way to spoil a story this ornate, like a wedding invitation embossed in comic sans.

But “The World to Come” is about the things we remember, and not the ones so easy to forget. “I hold our friendship and study it,” Abigail writes of her bond with Tallie, “as if it were the incomplete map of our escape.” Whether or not she ever finds her way free, the first half of 1856 will linger in Abigail’s mind like all of the best love stories do, her neurons and nerve endings rearranged into forest trails that forever lead back to the legend that explains them.

Grade: A-

“The World to Come” premiered in Competition at the 2020 Venice Film Festival. It is currently seeking U.S. distribution.

[gingernastyy]

OOOU i saw your headcanons were open!! you’re an amazing writer and i love your characterization :) uhh do you got any fluffy headcanons to share for john/bonnie? if you want of course! again, wonderful writer you are!!! have a blessed day friend 💖😌✨

After the end of the gang John, outside of Dutch and what he taught him, really doesn’t know who he is. He doesn’t know what he wants in life, or what he aspires to do. 

He kind of just follows what others want, sometimes for better or worse. In this case it’s building the house and barn that Abigail wanted. He feels guilty for how poor of a father he has been and feels he’s obligated, but also genuinely wants to help both Abigail and Jack in any way that he can.

It was more of Abigail’s dream to have the farm, but it gave him a sense of purpose. He enjoys the ranch life, it’s the busy work he misses from the gang.

Over the years, John and Abigail realize their feelings for each other- or in other words, the lack of romantic feelings for each other.

With Sadie being back in their life, healing from the stab wound in her side from hunting down Micah, Abigail becomes aware of the deep love she has for her. Maybe it was always just the forced pressure of others why she felt she needed a husband and the pressure of them having a kid together that made her feel she had to be with John. Sadie, Abigail and John have a long conversation about how they feel for each other. They come to the conclusion that though John and Abigail love each other it’s more in a platonic and friendship type of way.

Sadie quits the bounty hunting business. She teases the both of them about giving her the family bug but she is happy as all can be with Abigail. She had a bit of ranching under her belt from the time that she and Jake were together so she and Abigail continue working the ranch with Jack.

The four of them live together for a while, getting the ranch up and running. Sadie and Abigail, a happy couple and the three of them work to raise Jack together, John and Sadie working day after day to keep the ranch going. John and Abigail still present themselves as married to the public, to protect her and Sadie’s relationship. 

Everything goes pretty smoothly until the consequences from finding Micah catches up with them. When the Bureau of Investigation takes Jack and Abigail, it’s both John and Sadie that work on figuring out how to get them back. All the time he took to get out of the life he gets roped back into having to hunt down Bill, Javier, and Dutch. He’s not exactly smart about it, he’s not proud of going up to Fort Mercer and getting shot.

He’s grateful that Amos and Miss Macfarlane find him when they do or he’s sure he would have bled to death.

It seems that whenever John is bed ridden,  he wakes up to a pretty lady watching over him. As wonderful as that it is he would like to not be mauled by wolves or shot in the gut in order to see them. He also hates that the first time he meets Miss Macfarlane he’s in such an unpleasant position.

Right as he’s waking up she’s bombarding him with questions about what he was doing at Fort Mercer, how he knows Bill Willamson and in the same breath calling him an idiot. He likes her immediately. 

When John gets the chance he sends a telegram to Sadie. Explain what happened to Abigail and Jack but leaves out the part about him being injured. It’s harder than getting a dog away from a bone for John to tell Sadie she should stay back and take care of the farm while he handles the situation. There’s nothing more threatening to him than, even though it is only the text read from a telegram, Sadie saying “I don’t care what you have to do, you go get my wife back John Marston.” 

Unfortunately, until he’s healed he can’t focus on getting them back. But in the meantime, while he’s healing he grows quite fond of Miss Macfarlane and is a farmhand for her. She teases him more than any woman he knows but… he kind of likes it, keeps him on his toes. He certainly gives her plenty of things to tease him for.

John’s not always been the best with words, so when he’s explaining the situation he’s in to Bonnie he might have led her to believe he was actually married. It’s habit for him at this point, to protect Abigail and because he had been living for years believing he would marry her one day. It’s not exactly an issue until he’s been openly flirting with Bonnie. She puts her foot down and confronts him, poking him in the chest, “I ain’t that kind of woman John Marston so you need to quit that.” He knows he’s being scolded but he’s pretty sure he falls in love with her right there. John stumbles over his words and does his best to explain his situation with Abigail and Jack to make it clear that he’s not being unfaithful. But that just leaves them to stand there flustered because he was flirting with her and Bonnie might have let slip that she was attracted to John and enjoyed his advances but had been upset because she believed him to be married. 

They might avoid each other for a little after that but if you asked them, they would deny it. John just got caught up with helping Marshal Johnson and Bonnie had the ranch to worry about. 

They’re only able to avoid each other for a few days, John did need to work back the money he’d cost them and they missed each other. Bonnie asks John to walk the perimeter with her in the evening, which was clearly an excuse be he ain’t gonna turn her down. She tells him her father is real fond of John, “says your good husband material I believe is how he phrased it.” Drew finds John hardworking, reliable, and he appreciates his philosophies. “Thinks you’re much rather suited for me than any other farmer he’s met.” 

John of course laughs, from the shock of it all and because he’d never thought someone would consider him husband material. As they head back to the house, John flusters Bonnie with his reply, “While marriage seems a little fast, I do appreciate having your father’s approval. But more importantly, do I have yours?” 

John falls a little harder as he sees her pretend to think it over, “I ain’t decided yet,” but she’s grinning so big at him. 

Every night after that John sees her off to bed, standing at the bottom of the porch stairs, wanting nothing more than to follow her inside but trying to somewhat take things slow, he takes his hat off and says real soft and sweet, “Goodnight Miss McFarlane.” Bonnie of course rolls her eyes at him and tells him to just call her Bonnie already, “I swear you’re such a gentleman it’s annoying.” John laughs in that way that makes Bonnie smile back and want to kiss him forever. “You’re the first person to ever tell me that,” 

John keeps working around the farm, playfully asking Bonnie if he’s got that $15 covered from his doctor visit. She likes to pull the “hmm not yet, there’s plenty more work for you to do” and he responds with fake disappointment, “guess I’ll just have to stick around longer then,” all while smiling and winking at her. And maybe sometimes they end up holding each other and kissing for a little too long but who can really say? 

After John helps with the barn fire, he asks if Bonnie would be willing to send some cattle to Beechers Hope after he’s finished. He plans to get some cattle for the farm for Abigail and Sadie, almost as a housewarming gift for them. He also brings up in that moment that he’s been thinking of gathering some of his things and bringing them to stay with her. 

To say Bonnie was traumatized after everything with Bill Williamson’s gang would be an understatement, but she isn’t alone and John reminds her of that. Bonnie’s always had to be strong and independent, so she tries to keep it in and hide it from John but he won’t have that. He sits with her during late nights, after nightmares and when she’s too tense to sleep. He opens up to her about his own trauma, specifically the hanging from when he was a kid. They were already close but after that, they feel an even deeper bond. After one emotional talk, Bonnie opens up about how afraid she was, John sharing the same fear, he tells her he loves her. 

When John has to go to Mexico, he sweeps Bonnie off her feet and pulls her into a kiss. Anything could happen as he goes after Javier so he makes sure to kiss her before he goes. It’s a habit he develops every time he leaves to go somewhere.

Abigail and Sadie both insist joining John in his trip to McFarlane’s Ranch after they get settled back in, taking corn with as a thank you and because they want nothing more than to meet the woman who’s got John Marston so flustered.

John discovers a new ring of hell with all three of them together to torment him and he expresses as much but really he’s smiling and to see the smile on Bonnie’s face is all worth it. He knows she loves him. 

Sadie elbows him at some point, both of them watching Bonnie and Abigail chat away, and smirks at him, “She’s real cute, I can see why you got that dumb look all the time.” He of course tells her to fuck off as she laughs and laughs. 

Abigail and Bonnie like each other a lot, Bonnie respects Abigail immensely and Abigail believes Bonnie is good for John, will keep him in line because god knows he could get into some trouble. 

Bonnie pokes at John when she finds out that he doesn’t know how to swim. She questions him on how he is supposed to teach Jack if he doesn’t know how to swim and how does a grown man not know how to swim. She drops the teasing when she realizes that John is insecure about it and insists that she will teach him. John pulls a whole “not worth it or I’m not teachable” excuse with her and she returns with a “Oh are you just going to turn down my feminine charm and seeing me wet in swimwear?” It sure convinces John to get into the water. Bonnie is the only lady he knows that would still find him attractive after seeing him flailing as he tries to swim. He admits to her that it ain’t too bad but can’t help but still feels like a cat to water. 

Even though they’re living together and really running the ranch together, John reminds Bonnie and everyone else that it is her ranch and he’s there to support her in any way he can. 

Whenever John misplaces his hat, Bonnie is always the one who can find it. She says he’d lose his head if it wasn’t attached and kisses him as she places his hat back onto his head.

Bonnie is usually the one to wake up first but the rare times that John wakes before her he kisses his fingers and places it on her forehead or cheek. He doesn’t know how to put into words on how much he loves her.

At the end of their work day they talk and watch the sunset together. Bad days and sometimes even the good days they have a few drinks while they talk. Depending on what they are doing, there’s times that they don’t see each other until sundown. It’s not just chicken and cow talk, or just talk about the ranch, they bring up what they want to do the next day or what if they took a day trip somewhere. Amos and the other farmhands surely can handle the ranch for just one day.

They rebuild the barn together, John telling her about the first barn he’d built. Maybe he’s crazy but he swears, there’s a Bluejay sitting near and watching him this time too. 

If Bonnie stares at John a little longer than probably appropriate while he’s working without a shirt, she’d never admit it and maybe John would stretch and show off a little when he catches her staring. 

John and Bonnie get married in front of the barn at sundown, Hennigan's Stead was always gorgeous in the evening. Abigail, Sadie, and Jack are all there of course and they all spend the night laughing and talking together, celebrating. 

Every night, Bonnie asks John about a different scar as they lie in bed together. He’s covered in them and after each story he tells, she kisses the scar. She teases him for being an idiot for a lot of them, most of them from his dumb choices. He gets the quietest about the bullet wound in his shoulder. 

Fishing and practicing shooting is what they often do in their free time. Even after being in a gang for years, John thinks Bonnie is better than him when it comes to both. Seems like the years of him being out of the gang has made him a little rusty. At least with fishing he never was too good at it.

John, for the first time in his life feels he found happiness being with Bonnie and running the ranch with her. He’s found his purpose and he wants to hold onto it forever. 

[justanoutlawfic]

I Belong With You (You Belong With Me): Family Secrets

Summary: Belle learns exactly what she's inheriting from George's dynasty.

Also on AO3

The Enchanted Forest (One Week & 10 Days Before the Wedding)

 Belle turned around the corner, a heavy book clutched between her fingertips. She had discovered it within her possessions and couldn’t wait to share it with James. It had contained some of her favorite poems and she was hoping they could incorporate them in their wedding programs. She wasn’t sure how much he wanted to be involved with the planning of the wedding, but she also knew he loved literature just as much as she did. Outside their dress fittings, Abigail didn’t seem to care at all about the weddings. A part of Belle couldn’t blame her. They didn’t choose either of these fiancés. At the same time, Abigail spent most of her time holed up in her room. She only got dressed when her father finally demanded so. Would she ever get used to the idea of marrying David? For both of their sakes, Belle sure hoped so.

 As Belle turned the corner for James’ library, she heard a thud. She carefully approached the door, peering inside. James was backed up against the door with his father before him. His eyes were wide and there was something written on his face that Belle had never seen before. Fear. James raised his hands in defense. George’s back was to the door, his shiny forehead glowing under the chandelier. James didn’t notice her either, his eyes trained on his father.

 “Father, I’m sorry.” His voice was shaking. “It was just a joke.”

“A joke?” George let out a bitter laugh. “You think this entire thing is a fucking joke?” He slammed his fist against the wall right by James’ head, which made the younger man wince. Belle’s body tensed. “This merger is going to save our kingdom. You’re not going to mess it up by “joking” with Midas.”

“I don’t think he took it…”

“You think you’re so hilarious, but no one thinks you’re funny. In fact, if you disappeared, no one would miss you at all.”

 Belle’s grip on the book intensified. How could a father talk this way to their child? James was kind, intelligent and charming. Sure, he had a bit of dark humor but that only added to what made him, him. A parent was supposed to love their child for who they were. George seemed cold and standoffish, but she didn’t imagine he was this cruel. A tingling sensation rose through her body that she didn’t quite understand. Anger? Hostility? Could she go as far as to say protectiveness?

 James’ eyes narrowed at his father’s comment, his chin jutting outward. “I think you would. I mean, without me, how else would you get all the gold you need?”

George scoffed. “I should’ve let you be raised by those farmers. You would’ve been dead by your first birthday.” He went to grab hold of James’ collar and that’s when Belle decided she’d had enough.

“Lay a hand on him and I’ll let this book dent your skull,” she threatened loud enough for him to hear.

 George spun around; his eyes aghast. James looked shocked, yet a small grin was creeping up on his lips. His father quickly composed himself. He stood up straight and cleared his throat. Belle kept her glare on him with her book held up in the air. She ignored the ache in her wrist, not about to leave James unprotected.

 “I’ll beg you to remember your place, Belle,” George said.

Belle shrugged. “And I’ll remind you of who you need for this merger.”

George licked his lips, shaking his head. “A match made in Heaven indeed,” he muttered under his breath. His eyes darted back to his son. “We’ll finish this discussion later.”

“Touch him again and I’ll make sure you don’t get an ounce of my father’s gold.”

 George shook his head, walking out of the room. Belle dropped the book onto a side table and ran over to James. She put one hand on top of his and another on his cheek.

 “Are you alright?” She asked.

James nodded, letting out a deep breath. “You saved me from the worst he could’ve done.”

“I just…” She shook her head. “I’m so sorry. No father should talk that way to their child.”

“You clearly have never met George.”

“Well, no, but he was wrong. About all of it…” She trailed off, some of his words finally registered with her. “What did he mean? That you should’ve been raised with farmers?”

James sighed, rubbing the back of his neck. “You’re going to be my wife. I suppose you know our great family secret.”

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

The private garden off the library was in full bloom. The azaleas showed off their pink as they danced in the wind. The cherry tree had lost its petals and instead had the sweet-smelling fruit instead. Multi-color rosebushes created a mini-maze. It had been lovely to look at in between reading Shakespeare and sips of honey tea. It was even nice for Belle to walk around with James.

 “My mother always did what she could to shield David and I from George’s cruelty. She wanted us to be kind. Not the stereotypical princes you hear of. She read us stories; told us we didn’t have to be vicious knights if we didn’t have to.”

Belle ran her fingers over an azalea. “She sounds great.”

“She truly was.” He bit his lip. “But then she got sick. It spread quickly and she was gone before we really knew it. George put us into knight training almost immediately.”

“But you were only 5, right?”

James nodded and Belle frowned. “He didn’t care. He wanted us to be the perfect dragon slayers as soon as possible. David tried his best. He just wanted to please George so badly. I was scared, so I took off. I didn’t know where I was going but I managed to steal some money, pack a bag and went to Pleasure Island.”

 Belle tried to picture James running away, but she was having trouble picture him as a 5-year-old. He just seemed totally broody and forever an adult.

 “It was supposed to be a never-ending carnival but it was a nightmare. They turned kids into animals and once they got word I was a prince, they were after me. I didn’t last very long before a strange man appeared,” James continued. “He explained that I was his son.”

Belle’s brows furrowed. “What?”

James outstretched his arms. “Exactly what I said. He didn’t explain, but said if I went with him, we could go back to a farm. I could live a regular life with him and my “real mom” as he called her.”

“That had to be confusing.”

“It was. But at the time, it sounded nice. Animals, having a mom again…so I said yes.”

Guilt washed over his face. Belle touched his arm. “That doesn’t make you a bad son.”

“I know,” he whispered. “But I was so willing to give up the mom that raised me…”

“If she saw what George wanted to turn you into, she’d understand.”

James shrugged. He gently pulled away from her. “When we were getting off the island, George showed up. He tried to offer the man money but he refused. He introduced himself as my father. The two argued. It came out that the man, Robert, and his wife, Ruth, had me and David. They were too poor to raise us. They could barely keep their farm. So, Rumpelstiltskin showed up and made them a deal.”

“And they took it?” Belle tilted her head. She had heard some awful stories about the wizard.

“Robert says we were dying. He had gambled away money for our medicine. George couldn’t produce an heir so Rumpelstiltskin promised to find him one. In exchange for saving their farm, they would give up one child.”

“But both of you are with George.”

James sighed. “George revealed that Robert got greedy. He wanted extra money. So, he said they’d give both of us. Ruth didn’t want to, but he made the deal behind her back.”

Belle gasped. It seemed David and James had been screwed over in the fatherhood department on both ends. “Lords.”

“Robert said he felt guilty. He was sober and he wanted to make things right, he wanted Ruth to forgive him and he thought the only way to do that was to bring back one of the kids he sold. So, he wanted me.”

 James braced the edge of the bush. A delicate flower crushed under his grip, causing him to wince.

 “George ordered his execution. It was as if he were ordering a new rug for the main hall.” His glassy blue eyes stared off at the castle. “The guards carried him off and he was gone.” James swallowed, shaking his head. “If I hadn’t agreed to go with him, if I hadn’t run off…”

“James,” Belle returned her hand to his face, forcing him to look at her. “This isn’t your fault. None of it is your fault. Robert chose to go there that night. He knew he was kidnapping a royal child. Regardless, George didn’t have to do what he did, especially in front of a 5-year-old.”

James’ lip trembled. “I never told anyone about that. Not even David.”

Belle tilted her head. “Really?”

“On the ride home, George ordered me to secrecy. He told me that no one was ever to know, especially not my brother. If I ever breathed a word, I’d have a grave next to my biological father.”

“What a burden for him to place on your shoulders,” she whispered. “I am so sorry.”

James shrugged, wiping at his eye. “There’s so much damn pollen in this garden.”

 Belle took a step back, not wanting to make him feel uncomfortable. So much made sense now. The rumors about a vicious prince, a lady killer. It was all to appease his father. The dark humor was from years of abuse and protecting a family secret. So much was weighing down on James and yet he kept that devilish grin on his face most of the time.

 “Do you ever think of reaching out to your biological mother?” She asked.

James shook his head. “No. Even if George would allow me, it’d be out of the question. She had to pick one of us and she chose her favorite originally.”

“James, I’m sure that’s not how it worked…”

“I had a mother, Belle. She read me to bed every night, she snuck me treats in my lessons and she kissed my wounds when I was hurt.” James straightened up. “We may not share the same DNA, but she was all the mother I needed. I don’t need to find the woman who gave me life.”

 Belle stared at him for a minute. A part of her wanted to push, while the other understood. She wasn’t adopted but she had a mother that she loved more than anything in the world and not because they shared the same blood. If she found out tomorrow that Maurice and Collette hadn’t actually brought her into this world, it wouldn’t change how she felt about them. James’ mother was Serafina. She was all he needed.

 “I think you’re right, you’re happy with your choice,” she finally said.

James nodded. “Thank you.”

“But David didn’t get to make his. He’s had to live in the dark for years, not knowing any of this. I’m not saying he should know anything, but doesn’t he deserve the truth?”

“What? That our biological father sold him for booze money? No, I think that’d hurt him even more.”

“And what about the mother that wanted him and didn’t get a say? I know you’ve tried to protect him all these years James. Maybe I don’t know everything about this, but I do know that he deserves to have all the facts like you do.”

James sighed, running his fingers through his blonde curls. He looked down at Belle. Their eyes interlocked and she got that warm, relaxing feeling in her stomach yet again. “I hate when you’re right.”

“You might as well get used to it,” she said cheekily, plucking an azalea off the bush and handing it to him. “Happens more than you might think.”

 James rolled his eyes. Yet, that smile started to return. Why did he have to look at her like that?

 Why did he have to make her fall for him?