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viewfromthevault · 4 years

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Thank you again to @tarberrymentats for the tag!! I won’t tag anyone this time around so you can pretend I did if you wanna play along

I’ve done this with Rhea Shepard already so y’all can check that out here

Today we’re gonna hear from someone we haven’t heard from in forever!

name -> “Bethany Esdale, but you can call be Bethany, Beth, or even Annie if you wanted! Most people I know just call me Bethany, though.”

are you single -> “Nope! I’m in a very happy relationship with the coolest person I know.”

are you happy -> “I like to think so. There’s lots of reasons to be unhappy if you go out and look for them, but I try to look for the silver lining.”

are you angry -> “About what?”

are your parents still married -> “Sure are! They even got themselves a nice little place in Flatwoods and have been doing very well there.”

NINE FACTS

birthplace -> “I was born in vault 76, one of the first vault babies.”

hair colour -> “Deep dark brown.”

eye colour -> “Brown as well!”

mood -> “I think you already asked me this, but I still am in a good mood in case you forgot.”

gender -> “Female.”

summer or winter -> “Winter looks nice and all, but there’s so much more going on during the summer. All the animals are out, it’s warm and sunny, and you’re not shut up in a shack for months and months. And it’s hard to collect and record research when your fingers are froze stiff.”

morning or afternoon -> “You might be surprised to learn that I’m not an early riser. I overslept a LOT back in the vault. I almost missed Reclamation Day! Harper gets up at the crack of dawn every morning and I try to get up at the same time to, but bed too comfy. She doesn’t seem to mind it though. She gets to have the mornings to herself.”

EIGHT THINGS ABOUT YOUR LOVE LIFE

are you in love -> “Oh, definitely! I fall more and more in love every day.”

do you believe in love at first sight -> “Maybe for certain kinds of love, like seeing a mutated opossum for the first time and wanting to learn everything you can about the adorable little guy, or biting into your very first sweetroll. You could say that I fell in love with Harper the moment she swooped into my life, and yeah I followed her around like a puppy immediately after, but it wasn’t until I actually got to KNOW her that the L-word popped into my head.”

who ended your last relationship -> “I only really had one girlfriend before Harper and that was way back when I was still living in the vault. She was the one to break it off, something about my personality being too much.”

have you ever broken someone’s heart -> “Man, I hope not. Sometimes... a lot of times I get real wrapped up in my own things and kinda forget what’s going on around me. I’d feel pretty crumby knowing that someone liked me and I didn’t acknowledge it.”

are you afraid of commitments -> “Nope!”

have you hugged anyone in the last week -> “Sure did! Hugs are good for the soul. I give Harper lots to remind her that she deserves them.”

have you ever had a secret admirer -> “If they were secret then there’s a very good chance that it went over my head.”

have you ever broken your own heart -> “Can’t say that I have. If that day ever comes it sure won’t be a fun one.”

SIX CHOICES

love or lust -> “I’m more into the sappy stuff than the steamy.”

lemonade or iced tea -> “Aww don’t make me choose!”

cats or dogs -> “Both are pretty great if you come across the nice ones.”

a few best friends or many regular friends -> “I’ve only really had a few best friends so I can’t really compare, but it’s nice to have a tight circle who knows you best.”

wild night out or romantic night in -> “Out here every day is a wild one, though as much fun as it is to see and explore new things with your other half, it’s even better to just stay home and relax with them on occasion, too.”

day or night -> “It’s much safer to explore during the day, but I’m not opposed to the odd nighttime excursion.”

FOUR HAVE YOU EVERS

been caught sneaking out -> “There wasn’t a whole lot of places in the vault that made me want to sneak away to, but out here the first thing I did was sneak out of Flatwoods to explore.”

fallen down/up the stairs -> “Too many times...”

wanted something so badly it hurt -> “Oh man, to get out of that vault. There’s only so much you can learn behind closed doors, I wanted to get out there and experience things for myself.”

wanted to disappear -> “If I could turn invisible without needing a stealthboy that would be the best. It’d be so much easier to study animals!”

FOUR PREFERENCES

smile or eyes -> “Harper doesn’t smile much, but she has really nice eyes...”

shorter or taller -> “Taaaallll.”

intelligence or attraction -> “Why not both?”

hook-up or relationship -> “Relationship all the way!”

FAMILY

do you and your family get along -> “Oh yes. My parents and I love each other very much, though they don’t really like me running around the wilderness much. My older brother Willis is my bestest friend in the whole world. I just wish he’d come visit more. He’s out and about way more than me. The plan was for the two of us to head out together, but he ended up leaving early with the vault overseer and hasn’t come around much since then.”

would you say you have a “messed up life” -> “No, I wouldn’t say that. Sure wasteland life isn’t easy, but my life could be a whole lot worse.”

have you ever ran away from home -> “More like, snuck out when no one was looking to chase after some frogs.”

have you ever gotten kicked out -> “The closest thing I can think of is leaving the vault. Yeah, I wanted to go, but no one really had the option to stay on account of vault life support shutting down after a few days.”

FRIENDS

do you secretly hate one of your friends -> “Now what good would that do to anyone?”

do you consider all of your friends good friends -> “Of course! I really don’t have that many, but I do treasure the few friends that I have.”

who is your best friend -> “I mentioned before that my brother Willis is, and he still is, but now that he’s never around Harper has pretty much filled in that role, too. I’d probably be dead by now if it weren’t for her after all.”

who knows everything about you -> “I suppose anyone who listens to me blather on. Harper is a really good listener, she definitely knows me best.”

#fallout 76 #fo76 #fallout ocs #fallout oc interview #vault dwellers #bethany #oc tag meme #tarberrymentats #thanks for the tag!#a little late but it be what it be lol #queue from the vault

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hexenmeisterer · 5 years

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Comparing “The Ladies’ Man” to “A Likely Story”

Some collaborative due South meta

Here’s what happens when two friends separated by lots of geography watch due South together over Skype, read ALL of truepenny’s meta, and then start jamming in a google doc about two episodes-- which differ drastically in tone but share a bunch of themes! (crossposted here on DW, which is a better place to comment if you wanna have an actual back-and-forth discussion.)

H is me and T is the inimitable @touchmycoat.

H: In “A Likely Story,” Ray is trapped in his ideas about his love interest (what’s her name again?). He cannot for the life of him tell when she’s lying, he can’t see her true motivations, he can’t know her. He’s just using her as a blank screen to project his internal conflicts onto. This is, as truepenny points out, a theme that due South returns to almost every single time it explores romance. How many episodes philosophize on the possibility of “love at first sight?” Off the top of my head, I’ve got “You Must Remember This,” “Victoria’s Secret,” “An Invitation To Romance,” and “Say Amen”…

As Huey and Dewey say in “Say Amen,”

“Well, you know the thing is, you can't really love someone until you know them.” “Sure you can. The hard thing is to love them after you know them.”

T: The love interest’s name is Luann— Frannie’s actually the first person to name her, well into the episode. Luann’s not introduced to us, to Ray, to Fraser by name, relation, or even profession. We’re just left to assume she has a caretaking role for Mrs. Tucci based on her age and actions. The dialogue even (intentionally?) suffers from this unknowing; Ray says, “Look Fraser, I am very sorry for Mrs. Tucci’s loss, and I will make every effort to find the killer of her husband, but the fact remains she is a very beautiful woman.” The pronoun confusion just further highlights how much it doesn’t matter who Luann is, just that she is “a beautiful woman.” This issue goes from highlight to glaring headlights when the cut from EXT. CAR, EVENING to IN. STATION, DAY is done by their conversation just rolling over, and guess what they’re talking about? Well, Ray’s talking about sex, and how little of it they’re both getting.

H: The Lou Skagnetti story and Sword of Desire, which both show up multiple times throughout the episode, explore the (gendered) stories people build around romance. The ending scene specifically juxtaposes these two stories about love by putting their endings right next to each other. Ray and Luann have retreated from each other after a failed attempt at connection, and they both soothe their disappointment by turning to fantastical love stories.

This one, told between two men, out in the “wilderness” by a campfire:

“Lou Skagnetti looked at the princess who sat across the stone table in the stone cabin high atop Sulfur Mountain, and the princess smiled at him. And for a brief second, Lou Skagnetti could hear his own inner bell ring as though it were rung by a thousand angels. And he took his hand and he placed it over his heart, and Lou Skagnetti vowed that never again would he kill and eat another princess as long as he lived. . . unless, of course, she were covered in choke cherries and brown lichen and a sprinkling of dust -”

vs. this one, read in a comfortable bedroom (with the most floral bedspread ever invented), a story that one woman read aloud to another to help her sleep:

“Gabriella's chest heaved at the sight of him. His boldness made her feel like a true princess. As he came near her, she could feel the trembling of the deep inside her most secret place…”

Notice how they could almost be the same story told from different perspectives.

Fraser’s story, though, does not offer the same easy comfort Luann’s does. His story is a funny distraction, but it's also a dark mirror held up to romance. Fraser's status as an outsider means he knows different stories than Ray and Luann. This story shows the blood and guts of love. In the context of the episode, it gestures at how the theater of "love" often leads people to act in deeply un-loving ways towards each other; how it can get in the way of people even knowing each other. (“That's one dark story.” “Yes. It is.”)

Fraser has seen Ray use his position as a police officer to stalk his ex and now he’s seen him try to date a suspect. I don’t think it’s a coincidence that he’s telling Ray a story where the protagonist has been “eating princesses.” The story’s not just an accusation, though; it’s a hopeful story, a humorous story; it’s told playfully and as an act of care, and it points to the possibility of true love in the future that is not based on violence.

T: I almost wish the show had the continuity to also let this moment comment explicitly on what Fraser couldn't get from Victoria. His love for her is so mired in guilt that he thinks himself deserving of all the violences she visits on his person. It's like, Ray is pre-Lou Skagnetti and Fraser is post-Lou Skagnetti; Ray needs to stop his violence and Fraser needs to pay for his violence. The same problem of failed recognition occurs on both sides of the story.

H: I love your point about Fraser being like Ray but somewhere further along in the accountability process.

In the "love-at-first-sight vs. true knowledge of a person" saga that is this show, there is one unexpected pair of people who know and love each other deeply after very little time spent together: Beth Botrelle and Ray Kowalski. They can see right through each other. They understand each other’s motivations— so not only can they tell when the other’s lying, but they can tell you exactly why. They are bound together through shared experience. And while their story is obviously not romantic, it is shockingly loving. Beth is willing to falsely confess to a murder she is unjustly accused of just to make Ray feel better, just to give him a real shot at moving on with his life after she dies. Ray is obviously willing to risk his job and his life to exonerate her, but he is also uniquely willing to admit his mistakes to her; he tells the truth exactly as it happened, and therefore sacrifices the easy self-justifications that have kept him functioning as a cop and as a person all these years.

(and, side note— how interesting is it that Beth of all people calls Ray “queer,” and his response is to laugh and nod?)

Beth does need to be saved from a death sentence, but she is emphatically not a damsel in distress (or a "princess"). She needs to save Ray as much as he needs to save her. Both of them know that their freedom is bound up in the other's.

T: So maybe in some ways this is Ray's post-Lou Skagnetti (I'm laughing as I write these words but bear with me). This is his Victoria, but antithetically; this is where he pays for the violence. Victoria was guilty and Fraser arrested her, Beth was innocent and Ray arrested her—but they both know, to some extent, that the arrests seemed immoral (Fraser in particular, where if they did actually sleep together, he’s fully abused his power as an officer of the law). Where Victoria wanted to destroy Fraser for it, Beth wanted to save Ray from it (she sought to alleviate his conscience by telling him she was guilty). But both Fraser and Ray had to be willing to destroy themselves and the roles they occupied for Victoria and Beth. The Fraser who is whole and the Victoria who seeks his destruction cannot coexist. And, to continue your reading of "Ladies' Man" as the keystone episode where Ray just really should not be a cop anymore, the Ray who is a cop and the Beth who is innocent/alive cannot coexist. There's something very interesting about these relationships between men and women that fail due to one or both of their placement in some kind of institution, because of one or both of their duties/supposed loyalties. Fraser's commitment to duty catalyzes the break between him and Victoria. Ray's abuse of his authority is no fucking good for Stella or Luann, and even when he succumbs to the ease of police authority he fucks over Beth.

Tying Ray and Fraser and Victoria back to “A Likely Story,” everybody, particularly Ray, speaks in projections; throughout the episode, Fraser is the mirror while Ray is the puppy, as in Ray doesn’t know the other puppy isn’t real, so he’s snarling and barking at the mirror, who is merely the medium through which the reflection is transposed.

H: “FRASER IS THE MIRROR AND RAY IS THE PUPPY” WHAT THE FUCK I LOVE THIS IMAGE. IT IS ABSURD AND TRUE. YOU ARE BRILLIANT. Please, expand upon this point.

T: This one particular projection:

Ray: “Let me see if I got this right, Fraser. Luann is a beautiful woman, therefore she must be bad. And since she's a really beautiful woman, that means she's got to be really bad. Is that how it goes inside your brain?”

Of all the projections, Fraser most clearly calls this one out for what it is: “Are you sure it is my brain we are talking about?” Funny, since this is the one projection that fully echoes Fraser’s hangups about Victoria. Vecchio’s line from “Letting Go” seems resonant: “Not every woman with long dark hair tries to kill their lover.” But this is clearly about Ray: his low sense of self-worth makes him look for flaws in women he believes are “beautiful” and out of his league.

H: Yes!! They're both backed into these low-self-esteem corners with regards to romantic relationships: they’re both thinking, "there's something wrong with me." Ray projects that outwards (“what’s wrong with this woman?”), but Fraser does a slightly different thing with it: “if she's into me, she must be operating on an incomplete set of data.” Fraser knows that people think he's attractive, but also thinks that they can't see/know him enough to love him in a real way. I think that's why he was so INTO Victoria-- she knew he did bad things and wanted him anyways! And she, to his mind at the time, was clear-headed about what kind of punishment he deserved for his wrongdoing. There's something more comforting about that than waiting for the other shoe to drop.

T: Both “A Likely Story” and “Ladies’ Man” are about women that Ray Kowalski has wronged, and both end with Ray apologizing—very sincerely—to the women. Fundamentally, I love that as a narrative choice.

H: Yes. Apologize, man. (Apologize and quit your job. I think these two episodes lay out a really compelling case for exactly why Ray does not go back to being a cop post-COTW.)

To summarize:

Ray is a human-shaped projector. He can’t readily name his feelings, but they do warp his perceptions of reality and he does act them out. "I don't know what I want till I see what I do." -Ray Kowalski in The Teeth of the Hydra by Resonant.

This is terrible news for everyone involved when you're a cop!

These episodes both deal with the nature of love-- its relationship to truth and to police work. “A Likely Story” shows the burdensome trappings of heterosexual, romantic love, which in this case serve to obfuscate the truth; “The Ladies’ Man” shows an intense kind of "true love" between a man and a woman that has nothing to do with romance or sex and everything to do with solidarity and truth-telling.

T: And 4, we can absolutely implicate Fraser, at least thematically, in something every step of the way, el oh el.

#due south #meta #victoria metcalf #ray kowalski #police violence cw #stalking cw #let me know if there's other stuff i should be tagging for!#benton fraser #it's a post-Lou Skagnetti world #puppies vs mirrors #emotional gymnastics #acab #beth botrelle #Luann From That Episode

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galadrieljones · 5 years

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The Lily Farm - Chapter 32

AO3 | Masterpost

Rating: M (Mature) - sexual content, violence, and adult themes

Summary: To help her process Sean’s death, Mary Beth asks Arthur to take her on a hunting trip, somewhere far away. He agrees, and on their journey to the north, they find quietude and take comfort in their easy bond. They’ve been friends for a while now, but life, like the wilderness, is full of uncertainty and complications, and as they embark on their desperate search for meaning together, they endure many trials, some small, some big—all of which bring them closer to one another, and to their future.

Chapter 32: Faith, Hope and Love, Pt. 1

(11) When I was a child, I talked like a child, I thought like a child, I reasoned like a child. When I became a man, I put the ways of childhood behind me. (12) For now we see only a reflection as in a mirror; then we shall see face to face. Now I know in part; then I shall know fully, even as I am fully known.

(13) And now these three remain: faith, hope and love. But the greatest of these is love.

-1 Corinthians 13:11-13

“Dutch,” said Hosea.

They had gone out to fish, as an avenue to talk. They were in a canoe on the Lanahechee. Hosea had got the letter while they were in the saloon, but it was too crowded there, and Dutch was losing his mind. Neither of them was fishing at the moment. Hosea had Arthur’s letter folded in his pocket. Dutch was sitting with his head in his hands, his rod discarded to his side.

“Perhaps Shady Belle,” said Dutch. “Why does that boy make everything so goddam difficult, Hosea.”

“I don’t think that’s his intention.”

“I offered him Shady Belle.”

“Please.”

Dutch placed his hands on either side of the canoe, holding on, and with it, you could see the full brunt of his wingspan. He was shaking his head. “I wanted Shady Belle.”

“It is what it is,” said Hosea. “And unfortunately, with recent developments, Dutch—the O’Driscolls, the Pinkertons. I really think you should…consider staying behind.”

“Excuse me?”

“You’re too damn hot right now,” said Hosea. “Arthur doesn’t know about Hanging Dog. He wants you there, but I don’t want us bringing a massacre down on his wedding, Dutch. That would be…far too fitting, given everything we’ve been going through lately. I can’t imagine anything worse.”

“You think I’d bring down a massacre?”

“Maybe,” said Hosea. “Not intentionally, of course. But if somebody were to spot you, follow you. These are innocent people, and it’s just too important. You being there is a big risk.”

Dutch sighed. He looked off into the murky haze of the river. It was morning, still early. “Remind me,” he said. “Who exactly are these innocent people, Hosea?”

“You mean the owners of the B&B?”

“Yes.”

“Mr. Winterson is a doctor, that's all I know. Other than that, Arthur doesn’t really say.”

“He’s so goddam trusting.”

“You ought to give him some credit,” said Hosea. “After all these years. He might be good at playing the angry idiot, but he’s smart, Dutch. He’s made far fewer mistakes than you or I, and you know it.”

Dutch gave him a look, cracked his knuckles, placed his hands back onto the canoe, as if he were bracing himself for something—an earthquake. “If I don’t go with you, I don’t want you riding alone.”

“I’ll be fine.”

“Take Charles.”

“I’d prefer not to.”

“Then take the damn train.”

“What do you think is gonna happen?”

“You may not have been on that ferry with me, Hosea,” said Dutch, “but there’s men out there—enemies—who know what you look like. Besides, you’re not well.”

“I’m alive,” said Hosea. “I’ll ride fast and quiet. I know how to keep a low profile.”

“If you can keep a low profile, why do you assume that I cannot.”

Hosea said nothing. He picked up his rod, stood and cast his line. “We’ll have a party back at camp,” he said. “Have Pearson and Susan do it up right. It’ll be fun.”

Dutch took a long, deep breath. “We need to get the hell out of here.”

Hosea glanced at him, glad for the change of subject. “You’re telling me.”

“You talk to Trelawny any more about that poker game.”

“I did,” said Hosea, scrubbing his neck. “This morning, before you were awake.”

“And?”

“And he managed to get Arthur a buy-in, but under curious circumstances.”

“Which are.”

“The invitation is for Tacitus Kilgore, and his wife.”

Dutch shook out his head. “His wife? Whatever for?"

“Because that’s who interests Bronte, and Bronte is the one who secured the invitation.”

“Bronte.”

“Mary Beth made quite a splash. I’m not sure that was intended.”

“Not exactly. She was meant to be a distraction, not the main event.”

“You still think he won’t take her?” said Hosea. “This really complicates matters. I’d be concerned it was a set-up, but I can’t see the m.o. for that. It’s poker, and Bronte knows that Arthur is an outlaw. Nobody expects an outlaw who can cheat convincingly at cards. They expect robbing and killing and that’s it. And plus, Trelawny said that Bronte just seemed to genuinely like Mary Beth. I can get to work on the backstory, if that’s what’s at stake. I still know a couple of Texas Rangers who owe us, back in Galveston. They can come up with something, put a good name on it. It would be easy. It’s just a matter of convincing Arthur.”

Dutch leaned back and studied him, full of scheming. “What do you mean Bronte liked Mary Beth.”

“He was taken with her. He thought she was interesting. That’s what these people do, Dutch. They collect interesting people and stick them in a room with other interesting people. It’s a game. They’re like—like museum curators or something.”

Dutch sighed. “She’s definitely pregnant?”

“That’s what the letter says.”

“We’ll have to talk to him,” he said. “And by we, I mean you. He won’t listen to a goddam word I say anymore.”

“If he cheats the cards, he’ll take the table,” said Hosea. “It’d be like the old days. We’re talking upwards of ten thousand in the pot, Dutch. Maybe more.”

“Talk to him,” said Dutch. He got up too now and cast his line. A whole bunch of pretty little egrets were on the other side of the riverbank, all sunning and standing in a row. “Can I see that letter again?”

“Sure.” Hosea reached into his pocket, handed it over with no question. The atmosphere on that canoe relaxed a little. It was all composed, real quiet. “I know you’re happy for him,” said Hosea, turning the reel. “I know you are, Dutch. We’ll have a party back at Shady Belle. We’ll get the wedding behind us, and then we’ll move forward. Mary Beth is having a baby. It’s a blessing, all of it.”

Dutch was only half-listening, reading the letter again. He held the rod in one hand. The fish were quiet that morning and the air seemed dusty and somehow brown. The sky was full of pollution from St. Denis.

“Did you hear me?” said Hosea.

“Which part.”

“The part about all this being a blessing.”

Dutch folded the letter up and kept it. He focused on his line again, the fish nipping at the surface of the water. “Yes, I heard you,” he said.

“And?”

“And it’s a blessing indeed, Hosea. A blessing indeed.”

Neither of them caught anything that day. When they got off the canoe, they separated. Hosea rode back to Shady Belle to prepare for the trip to Emerald Ranch, and Dutch stayed behind. He sat down on a fallen Tupelo that looked prehistoric, and he rested his elbows on his knees. It was hot, so Dutch knotted his hair off his face and rolled his sleeves up. He took off his vest, and he tossed it into the river.

Dutch sometimes felt as if he were shedding pieces of himself one by one. His money, his gang, his control. He saw in the corner of his eye a beautiful flower then, growing on the side of a nearby tree. It was big and robust, looking like some sort of internal organ growing out in the open. It was an orchid. He had never touched an orchid before, not like this. He walked over to pick it, and then he held it in his hand and admired its mystery. It winked back at him but it was already dying. It had red petals and reminded him of all the women he’d ever loved. It was only three of them and two of them buried, and one of them he didn’t love anymore.

When Dutch had found Mary Beth four years back, her pockets full of rich men’s jewelry in Kansas City, he saw in her traces of Annabelle. Kind of mean and feral when put upon but in her nature, just full of kindness and stories. He knew that it was bullshit. He knew that men were idiot dogs, and any pretty girl between him and his salvation, he would just imprint with the face of the last pretty girl who made him smile. He forgot about her. She became friends with Arthur, and years went by. Molly came along, somewhere back in Colorado, and Dutch fell in love with her, because he fell in love easy, and she made him feel special, and because she liked poetry, and she could write it and then read it in her voice and old country accent that made him soft. She was better than he was. She was what he deserved if he had not lost his daddy and left his mother decades before, entering the life of some rabid, outlaw king. Things had gotten so far away. Dutch’s mother was buried in Blackwater, and all their money from that horrible ferry job was buried in the cemetery right beside her. Molly was lost to him, and Mary Beth was now marrying Arthur, and time had become circular.

Dutch had lost too much and it was making him possessive of all that remained—in violent, ugly ways. Hosea was dying. When Dutch went on and on about getting money and getting free, mostly what that meant to him was proving himself and his ideas, but it also meant getting Hosea somewhere safe, some place where he would not die so soon. He loved Hosea more than he could ever have admitted to himself. He gazed into the heart of the orchid in his hand. He thought about his own mortality. He thought about Arthur. Dutch was envious of Arthur. Not for having Mary Beth where he could not, but for finding peace in a woman, like he once did, and getting to start over right where Dutch had left off. It wasn’t fair. Was it? Why did Arthur get to have the woman he loved, safe as houses, pregnant with his child, not swinging from a tree but marrying him on a stranger’s ranch near Emerald Station? And yet, Dutch would have done anything to preserve them. He was terribly confused. It made him want to hurt somebody.

He could not miss Arthur’s wedding. That would be bad, he thought, as he stood there at the edge of the swamps, holding a pretty flower in his hand. No matter what Hosea said. That would hurt Arthur, and it would push him away even further than he already was. But every time he disobeyed Hosea, it all kept going rotten. What was he gonna do? He was so full of his ugly pride. He thought about how Arthur—he didn’t have a lot of pride inside him, and this was another thing. There was so little left. It had all gone away long ago with a pretty girl and a little boy who’d got murdered by animals. For a long time, it made Dutch and him the same. But now, Arthur was moving on.

He got on his horse that day, and he tucked the orchid delicately into his saddlebag. He then rode back to St. Denis and tied him up in the stable, paid the hand an extra 50% to keep him watered and in good condition while he was away. He then bought a decent but shoddier horse, a sturdy old Kentucky Saddler and named her Jean. Mean Jean, he said as he patted her on the flank. How I love you, my Mean Jean. He went to the tailor. He bought new clothes. He changed, and then he had a fine, silver suit jacket tailored to his size with a little give in the chest and shoulders. The lapels were embroidered with a delicate fleur-de-lis, which Dutch knew was symbolic of purity and the holy trinity. He told the tailor he was getting married. The tailor was very happy for him. Dutch was a hair taller than Arthur, but Arthur was bigger than him across the back, and this was about as good as he could remember. It would do. Arthur would look good in the silver, Dutch decided, as his coloring was very gold. Dutch folded up the jacket with his bedroll and rode away from St. Denis wearing a new hat. He hated traveling in costume, but this was his life now. This was what it had come to. He was torn between getting away from it all and getting revenge on those who had pushed him to the edge and it was all terrible.

He was looking at the pattern now, as what had happened with Colm and Mary Beth had loosened something up inside him and made him see. Dutch may have been frayed around the edges, but he was no idiot. If Molly stuck with him, she would only end up dead. He was going to give that orchid to her—a peace offering—and he was going to give her a bunch of money, and he was going to tell her it was over and hope she went away to live a better life, far from him. Then he was going to ride to Emerald Ranch and try to find something hopeful there, if something hopeful existed, or if it was all just disappearing into the belly of the whale. He had to go. He had to find Arthur, remind him of what mattered. He knew Hosea would be angry, but he decided that Hosea was wrong, and that regardless, he did not care.

“I’m not sure what I’m supposed to wear,” said Arthur. He was leaning against a tree, eating cherries out of his hand, spitting the pits into the weeds. They had stopped in a little grove about twenty miles north of Emerald Station to have some dinner and water the horses. There was a creek nearby with a beaver building a dam. It seemed territorial so they didn’t get too close. “What does a man wear to his wedding?”

"Didn’t you see Hosea get married to Bessie?” said Mary Beth. She was nearby, drawing shapes in the dirt with a long stick. “What did he wear.”

“I don’t remember,” he said. “I was fifteen.”

“That’s so young,” said Mary Beth. “I can’t imagine you being so young.”

Arthur smiled, took off his hat and tossed it to the blanket where they had eaten their lunch. The day was warm. “Be glad you didn’t know me then. You would have hated me, for I was a fool.”

“No way,” she said. She drew a steeple, a sun. “I would have known right away that we was soul mates.”

This warmed his heart. He finished the cherries and went over to her, crouched by her side to see what she was doing. “What are you makin?”

“Nothing,” she said. “Just shapes.”

“That looks like a church.”

“It is a church.”

Overhead, a huge raven pushed off a tree branch and took off into the sky. It made a huge, cawing sound, and it was loud enough they both looked up to see. “It’s nearly dark,” said Arthur. “We should get going.”

“I’m nervous,” said Mary Beth. “When we get there, it’s gonna be all this attention.”

“Don’t worry about it,” said Arthur. He was watching her. She looked up at him with her pretty eyes. “Just focus on me.”

She smiled. “Okay.”

Her hair was curly from the heat. She had taken off her sweater, and her sleeveless blouse was sticking a little to her skin. He put some the hair behind her ear, then some more, and he studied the freckles on her neck, and he leaned forward to kiss them.

When he wanted her, it sometimes took him a moment to remember that he could have her. But he was getting better at that, his confidence returning to him little by little, every day. He kissed her. She kissed him back and things got needful so fast. She moved fast. He laid her down on the blanket, and she asked him to touch her. She said just that. Touch me. So he did. He reached into her skirt and pulled away her underthings, and he touched her, pressing right up against her until she came, making her soft moans that excited him. Then he took off his own belt as she floated back down. He watched her face, ruffled up her skirt around her waist, and then he got inside her, deep.

She sort of squeaked, clutching him. He felt stupid with how good it was. She was incredibly wet, and both of their bodies were sweating in the heat from the day, and it was all so wet, like they couldn’t get close enough. He opened the buttons of her blouse with one hand so he could see and feel everything, and she tugged his shirt back off his shoulders, and everything came away, all as they kissed and fucked in the warmth of the forest. He had not felt this free in so many years, and he knew she’d never had it like this. It went on for a long time, and then at some point, she stopped him, because she wanted to try something different. She was curious. She pushed him back a little, and he guided her onto her hands and knees, and it made him feel very thankful and awed. He pushed all of her hair away and kissed the back of her neck as he glided back into her that way, and she arched with him and said his name. He kissed her shoulder, her ear, pressed his mouth to her skin, holding her tightly to himself with one arm, and she reached up to hold him around the back of his neck as he began again.

It was a slow build to a long end. He near on shuddered as he finished, like he was suddenly freezing cold and emptied of something bad. But then he was warm again. He held onto her. She turned her head and grabbed his face to kiss him. They didn’t talk. They just lowered to the blanket, him wrapped around and still inside, and they stayed puzzled together like that for a long time.

As the sun went down, they got up to dip in the river, and then they got dressed. Mary Beth didn’t know how it was going to work, with being pregnant—she already felt bloated somehow, like she was starting to show but Arthur said that to him, she looked exactly the same. She still got tired toward the middle of every day, like her body was badly in need of fueling. She ate bread to keep away the feeling of nausea, but in truth, it wasn’t so bad. She had some heightened anxieties. She was worried about being the center of attention. For as playful and free as she was with Arthur, she only showed this part of herself to him and a select few people in the entirety of all time and the world. She was worried about losing him. It was just a big, generic fear. She’d had a couple of dreams that he had died, or that he had never existed at all. She had one dream that she was holding his tiny baby, and she was standing over a huge, deep hole that went so far down it was only blackness. The baby was much smaller than she thought it should be. She was afraid she would drop the baby in the hole. In the dream, Arthur existed, but he was not there. She didn’t know where he was. She couldn’t remember. She had lost him somewhere and became panicked that she would never find him again.

When they rode past Emerald Ranch and were on their way to the Wintersons,' it was half past nine. The sky was long and dark, and the stars were very bright. You could see the whole galaxy, and pillars of smoke from chimneys and little camping sights off in the hills that stacked up toward the horizon. At some point, they were stopped on the road by a man riding up behind them who called out in a strange, deep voice. Arthur stopped them both right away, and he turned around with his hands on the reins. He was squinting into the darkness as the stranger approached on his horse, wearing a hat with a very low brim. Mary Beth idled some ways back.

“Who is that?” she said to Arthur.

“You lost?” said Arthur to the man. He didn’t seem concerned.

“No, son,” said the man. He took off his hat. He rode closer. It was Dutch.

This was a huge surprise. Mary Beth trotted up beside Arthur and became very happy and relieved. “Dutch?” she said.

“Yes, ma’am,” he said.

Arthur laughed, once. Big and deep, amused by his costume. “You old fool. What are you doing out here on a horse like that? Where’s the Count?”

Dutch trotted up, smiling. He was dressed in a modest brown scout jacket, still somehow shiny as can be. “The Count is back in St. Denis, being pampered by an overenthusiastic ranch hand with a bald head and leather chaps. And I am coming to your wedding, you goddam idiot. What the hell else would I be doing in this backwater territory?”

“You’re dressed like a damn messenger boy.”

“This here is called keeping a low profile,” said Dutch. “Or so I’m told. I’ll have to show Hosea what I mean. He thinks he left me behind in Lemoyne.”

“What?”

“We need to talk,” said Dutch, steadying his horse. "Not now, later."

“What are we talking about.”

“About some…mistakes I’ve made over the past two weeks. But you should not let that worry you now.” He looked at Mary Beth then, seeming to fill with pride, and he pressed his hat to his heart. “Miss Gaskill. You look lovely as always.”

She blushed. “Thank you.”

“Where is Hosea?” said Arthur.

“About twenty-four hours ahead of me,” said Dutch. “Congratulations, by the way. I hear you’re adding one more to our brood. It is truly a blessing.”

“Thank you,” said Arthur. “It is.”

Dutch nodded and looked around in a suspicious manner. He put the hat back on his head. “I think I rode past the place by accident—this bed and breakfast from your letter. Are we close?”

“Yes,” said Mary Beth. “It’s just a few miles up.”

“You didn’t miss it by much,” said Arthur.

“Very good,” said Dutch, smiling. “I need to stop at the fence. I hate to arrive empty-handed.”

“Thank you,” said Arthur. “For coming.”

“I wouldn’t have missed it for anything,” said Dutch.

They went along, the pretty nighttime country unfolding all around them, as a postcard.

Back at the Wintersons' Abigail was hard at work. She and Lizette were putting together a dress for Mary Beth. Lizette had all the fabric and had got a decent start, and Abigail was there, making the lace fringe at the sleeves and the collar, and also to estimate Mary Beth’s measurements. She’d known her long enough and mended her dresses in the past—it wasn’t so difficult.

Reverend Swanson still had not arrived, but there was time to spare, and nobody was worried yet. John and Hosea were out on the porch that night, smoking, and John was drinking whiskey out of a tin cup. Lawrence had been out there with them earlier but had work to attend to inside, and now it was just the two of them. They were expecting Arthur and Mary Beth now that the sun had gone down. They were watching the tree line.

“I know Arthur talked to you about the business of going north, with him and Mary Beth,” said Hosea. “Have you made any decisions?”

John nodded, blowing out all the smoke from his lungs and feeling cooled considerably by the evening call. It had been a warm day, and he’d spent a lot of it with Jack, running around the property, chasing the hounds and playing some other such games. It had been kind of cleansing, but he probably could have done with a bath. “Yeah,” he said. “Me and Abigail are with them. All the way.”

“Good,” said Hosea, seeming relieved. “It’s about time, John.”

“But Arthur and Mary Beth, they’re worried,” John said, looking down at his whiskey. “About the gang. I think reality is—it’s setting in a little bit. They don’t wanna leave people in a bind.”

“I know,” said Hosea. He tossed his cigarette to the porch and stamped it out with the heel of his boot. “I’m not surprised. I think it’ll be okay. Dutch and I are working on something new. I think we might be able to get back what we lost in Blackwater.”

“No shit,” said John. “What about the bank.”

“I’m still working on that,” said Hosea, wiping his forehead with a handkerchief from his pocket. “If we’re gonna pull a big city bank job, I’m not taking any chances.”

“I’ve never robbed a city bank before,” said John. He finished his whiskey. “Seems dangerous.”

“You’re telling me.”

They stood for a while, listening to the crickets.

“Where’s Dutch, Hosea.”

Hosea sighed.

“He ain’t here,” said John. He tossed the cigarette, then the tin cup, turned to him. “It ain’t right. I was trying to keep cool, but Arthur’s gonna be—how could he do this?”

“It’s not what you think.”

“Then what is it? What the hell is going on?”

“Please, John. Relax.”

“No.”

They heard horses then, coming over the hill up ahead. John looked up, instantly distracted and left the porch. He went down the steps and saw them—Arthur and Mary Beth, coming up side-by-side.

“It’s about time!” said John, walking out on the lawn to greet them. They hitched up, and John dusted his hands together and helped Mary Beth off her horse. Arthur hopped down, too, and they met with an earnest embrace. “Good to see you.”

“You, too,” said Arthur. “Thanks for being here.”

“Well we was surprised to hear, you know, about the wedding. But it’s good. We’re real happy.” He looked at Mary Beth then. “About the wedding, the baby, all of it.”

Mary Beth was very pleased. “Thank you, John.”

Hosea was there now, too. He hugged Mary Beth to his chest with a surprising strength, and he shook Arthur’s hand and congratulated him. “This is the right choice,” he said. “For both of you. Mary Beth, how are you feeling?”

“I’m fine,” she said, straightening her skirt pleats. “A little tired, but nothing too bad. I’m afraid my hair looks like a rat’s nest at the moment.”

“You look radiant,” said Hosea.

She blushed.

“We was surprised to see Dutch out on the road,” said Arthur. “What the hell is going on?”

Hosea stopped on a dime. “Come again?"

“He’s here?” said John.

Arthur looked at them both like they were batshit. “Apparently. We found him on his way to getting lost. I’m not sure it’s such a good idea for the two of you to be traveling apart from one another, old man. Perhaps it’s time you get sewn together at the hip.”

Hosea looked away, like he was conflicted. “Yes well. That would be eccentric.”

“Where is he?” said John.

“Ran to the fence. Said he didn’t wanna show up empty-handed.”

“Sounds like Dutch.”

From inside now, you could hear Abigail, just sweeping with excitement. She must have heard the commotion. “Oh my god,” she said, and she appeared at the door, and then she threw open the screen and picked up her skirt and ran down the stairs. She hugged Arthur and then Mary Beth, and she grabbed Mary Beth by the hand. “You two!” she said. “Surprising us like that.”

“It was last minute,” said Mary Beth. “I wish we could have warned you.”

“Oh please,” said Abigail. “Don’t you worry. Now come on. I got something to show you.” She began to drag her up the stairs, back to the house.

“Where we going?” said Mary Beth. “I could really use a bath before I do much else.”

“Oh you smell like a peach,” said Abigail. “Later.” She glanced back at Arthur then as she tugged Mary Beth inside. “Don’t worry, Mr. Morgan,” she said. “I’ll bring her back to you.”

“No doubt,” said Arthur. Mary Beth looked back and Arthur sent her off with a two-finger salute. He lit a cigarette. “Abigail is one emphatic woman,” he said to John.

“She’s sewing Mary Beth a dress,” said John. “With Mrs. Winterson. She’s just excited.”

Arthur was taken by this, smiled, real proud. “She’s making her a dress?”

“She is.”

“It’s a real beauty,” said Hosea.

Just then, they heard another horse, rustling through the trees up ahead, making its big horse noises. There was a lull, and then they saw Dutch coming through, as expected. He was riding up, looking casual, holding a bottle of champagne by the neck. “Gentlemen!” he said.

Hosea said nothing.

“Dutch, what the hell?” said John. “What the hell you riding?”

Dutch got off his horse, hitched her up next to Sarah. He ignored John’s question altogether. “I brought libations. Arthur, my boy. And young John.” He tipped his hat. “Hosea.”

John shook his hand. He seemed earnestly surprised. “You’re goddam here. I thought you wasn’t coming.”

“Of course I came.” Dutch clapped him on the shoulder and went right past. “Have a little bit of faith, son.” He gave Hosea a look, and then he just went on and entered the house. "Come along, Mr. Matthews."

"Dutch, hang on."

But he wasn't listening. He was already inside, calling out through the foyer: “Mr. and Mrs. Winterson? Your final guest has arrived, and I come bearing gifts.” He was like some sort of natural disaster, knocking over everything in its way.

They all stood there, feeling flattened in his wake. Hosea shook out his head, pinched his thumb and forefinger to the bridge of his nose like he had a headache.

“What the hell is going on?” said Arthur. “Did I miss something?”

“Later,” said Hosea. “We can talk later. For now, enjoy the evening. It's your evening, after all, Arthur. I need to get inside to broker Dutch’s introduction to Lawrence Winterson. That man is canny, and Dutch has a way of…well let’s just say he can be overbearing at times.”

“I’ll be right there,” said Arthur, smoking.

“Sounds good.” He smiled, looking weary. “You look well, son.”

“So do you.”

Hosea seemed amused by this. He took off his hat and went inside.

Now, it was just Arthur and John. Arthur gave John a cigarette. John lit it with a match from his pocket off the sole of his boot. “How you feelin?” he said. He stood, smoking and surveying the evening lawn. It looked almost blue in the moonlight. “With Mary Beth being pregnant and everything.”

“I’m good,” said Arthur. “Though I ain’t sure it’s quite sunk in yet.”

“I hear that,” said John. He took a deep breath, blowing the smoke. “The reverend ain’t shown.”

“That’s okay,” said Arthur. He seemed unshaken. Very sturdy as he stood there. He was a little taller than John, and bigger and meaner but also somehow just…shiny. He had always seemed like that. Even when he was outright dirty as hell.

“You know, you smell like the goddam river,” said John.

“Shut up.”

They knew they had to get inside but it was just a moment longer then, and they stayed to look at the fireflies, thinking about the future. At some point, as the heat was easing off for good into the nighttime call, Lawrence came out. He was holding a flute of champagne and looked happy in the lines of his face. “Arthur,” he said. “It is good to see you.”

Arthur flicked the cigarette and straightened up right away. John watched how he changed, how he removed his hat and shook Lawrence’s hand firmly, with intent. “Thank you so much again, for letting us do this.”

“It is our pleasure.”

“I hope Dutch ain’t already overstayed his welcome. He’s a bit of a showman, I must admit.”

Lawrence smiled. “That, he is. But he did bring very good French champagne. Lizette is pleased.”

“Well, that’s a relief.”

“Will you two be joining us inside?” said Lawrence. “There’s food.”

“Yes, sir.”

They all went in, John following Arthur’s lead. He put his cigarette out and entered the golden glow of the warm house. There was something going on, he thought, with Dutch and Hosea. Jack was upstairs, asleep. He watched Abigail talking with Mary Beth as they sipped their champagne, both of them so excited. Sweet and pretty girls. He tried to let it soak into his insides, but he couldn’t shake this bad feeling. Or, it wasn’t bad. Just...weird. Off. He didn’t know what to think—about Dutch, about what the hell he was doing there, about Hosea being all cagey. But at least, for once, he was thinking. This seemed like a good start. Dutch brought him and Arthur some champagne where they stood over by the piano, and then he raised his glass and toasted to the happy couple.

“Love does not delight in evil," he said, "but rejoices with the truth. It always protects, always trusts, always hopes, always perseveres." That is how he closed his speech.

“Hear, hear,” said Abigail.

They drank.

#red dead redemption 2 #arthur morgan #mary beth gaskill #arthur x mary beth #dutch van der linde #hosea matthews #john marston #abigail roberts #oooof #this one #lol #rdr2 #rdr2 fanfic

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cmdonovann · 5 years

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commission for @myfreespirit23!

#quantum break #jack joyce #beth wilder #commission #fanart #digital art #qb #cmdonovann #yells because beth deserved better #i gotta finish the fic(s) im working on so that i can bring her BACK

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hysterialevi · 5 years

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When the Devil Cries pt. 18

Fanfic summary: (NO SPOILERS IN THIS STORY) After arriving in Saint Denis, Arthur ends up falling in love with a seemingly innocent pianist, only to find himself in a battle with one of the most notorious outlaws to ever emerge from America. Now, between working for Dutch and robbing money for the gang, Arthur has to also protect the man he loves as the two of them try to find their freedom.

Pairing: Arthur Morgan/Male OC

Previous chapter

This story is also on AO3

From Arthur’s POV

SHADY BELLE

ONE WEEK LATER

Waking up to a bright beam of sunlight hittin’ me directly in the face, I squinted in response and shielded my eyes with a lazy hand, only to feel my ears perk in interest when I suddenly picked up on the distant chime of piano music.

It sounded like it was comin’ from downstairs, and I could also hear a few other voices speaking over it -- Hosea and Abigail, to be precise -- but it didn’t seem like whoever was playin’ it was doing it out of leisure. It seemed more like...they was practicing. As if preparing for some kinda performance.

Heh. If I was bein’ honest, I completely forgot there was a piano downstairs in the first place. No one ever used it, and it was covered in dust and old paint just like everything else, but I could see it didn’t take Eddie long to find it.

It was nice to hear him playin’ again though. It felt like ages since he last hit a single note, and I was glad that the boy finally had some time to just take a breath and do what he loved, for once. He certainly deserved it.

Sluggishly rising from bed, I let out a fatigued yawn and rolled my shoulders, afterwards touchin’ up my appearance a bit before grabbing my hat and heading out the door.

It had been a while since I was able to walk freely on my own. Last time I was up and about, I was clingin’ onto Dutch like a man whose foot got stuck in a stirrup, and I felt like death. No -- worse than death.

Thanks to Eddie though, I was finally back home and in a good enough shape to return to work. Every inch of me still ached to some extent, but I imagined Dutch was done waiting, and had plans to hit that bank at any minute now. I’d have to be ready.

Pushing the door open, I made my way into the corridor and wandered to the stairs, listenin’ in on the conversation that was going on below as Eddie finished the song.

Abigail let out an impressed sigh, her soft voice echoing throughout the otherwise quiet mansion.

“That...was real nice, Eddie. I had no idea Arthur brought such a musician to us.”

Eddie smiled at her, thinking back to a certain memory. “Did you know I convinced Arthur to play the piano once?”

Abigail chortled. “You’re pullin’ my leg.”

“No, seriously. I managed to persuade him to play an entire song with me. He’s...actually not too bad at it.”

Surprisingly, she didn’t appear that shocked. “Is that so? Hmm...some part o’ me always knew Arthur weren’t as gruff as he came across. I mean, you leave that man with a pen and paper for long enough, and he might just create a masterpiece. Still though, I wish I was half as good as you when it came to the piano.”

Eddie quirked a brow. “You play the piano?”

“Not well,” she replied with a chuckle. “But I dabble in it sometimes. Though, it’s hard to practice regularly when I’m constantly lookin’ after that boy.”

The musician nodded in understanding. “Jack is quite the wanderer, indeed. He always seems to be exploring.”

Abigail gave him a nudge. “I was talkin’ about John.”

The two of them laughed nonchalantly at that, their voices gradually falling silent once Abigail decided it was time for her to leave.

She stood up from the piano, beaming at Eddie in a grateful manner.

“Well, thank you for playin’ that song, Mister Ryan. It was a nice change o’ pace, compared to what normally goes on around here, but...I should probably get back to work. Miss Grimshaw don’t like it when I take breaks. Or rest at all, for that matter.”

The boy waved her goodbye. “Then I won’t keep you any longer. Have a good day, Abigail. Perhaps I can teach you more songs some other time.”

The woman strolled out of the mansion. “I’d like that. Well, goodbye, Eddie. And take care of yourself, you hear?”

The pianist gave her an affable expression. “I’ll do my best.”

Tracing his fingers along the piano as Abigail took her leave, Eddie glanced outta the corner of his eye and watched Hosea as he avidly worked on something, catchin’ the boy’s attention.

Eddie peered at him in curiosity. “What are you making there, Hosea?”

The old man looked up from his project, grinning proudly as he sat up straight in his chair.

“Some bait,” he answered. “I’m planning to go hunting sometime soon. The camp should be good on food, but...it never hurts to be sure. And besides, I have no idea when I’ll get the chance to hunt again. There are so many fellas out there looking for us right now -- it’d honestly be dangerous to set foot outside camp. But we do what we have to do.”

Hosea placed the bait down for a moment, giving Eddie an inquisitive glance as I reached the bottom the stairs and quietly listened to his story.

“...Did Arthur ever tell you about that one time he and I went huntin’ for a bear?” Hosea asked.

Eddie shook his head, his expression lighting up with a newfound interest. “No. Did you catch it?”

“Yes, but it weren’t easy. We spent a few days in the wilderness all by ourselves, you see. Miles away from any sign of civilization. We were alone in the mountains...and we had nothing to go off other than my own memory.”

The old man rested his elbows on his knees, continuing the tale.

“It took us quite a while to hunt that animal down. Tracks were scarce, and the area we was camping in was huge. We would find the occasional fish carcass lying around, or disturbance in the grass...but nothing solid enough to lead us to our target.”

A victorious glint shimmered in Hosea’s eyes. “Eventually though, while Arthur and I were out scouting one day...we spotted a paw print. ...Two. Three! It was a trail. We followed it all the way up the mountain until we reached a gathering of boulders hidden deep inside a forest. It definitely looked like the sort of place a beast would turn into its home, and so that was where we placed the bait. Well, Arthur placed it. And once he was done, the two of us waited behind the boulders, sitting in complete silence.”

“We didn’t dare move a single muscle, not when there was a bear roaming around. Hell, we barely even breathed. After all, we had no idea if we truly had the upper hand in this situation. A beast such as the one we was hunting could’ve easily turned the tables if we weren’t careful, and on top of that, we were fighting it up close.”

Hosea smirked out of excitement as he reached the ending, amused to see that Eddie was listenin’ so intently to him.

“Finally, however, after what felt like an eternity...I heard a menacing growl not too far away from me. It sounded more like a monster than an animal, and I won’t lie: it got my heart racing. But I knew there was no time for fear. We had located our target at last, and it was our opportunity to strike. So, I reached for my rifle and prepared to confront it, when suddenly...a big, hairy beast came leaping out of the shadows from behind me and let out a ferocious roar, its raw power shaking the ground underneath as the birds fled from the trees surrounding us.”

Hosea brought his gaze to me, grinning mischievously.

“...Arthur scared the bear off pretty quick. Ha!”

I let out a blunt chuckle, shakin’ my head in an amused manner. “Oh, very funny.”

The older man laughed at my annoyance and took the bait in hand, switching to a more sincere tone as he leaned back in his chair.

“No...the truth is, Arthur saved my life that day. Like the old fool I am, I nearly let that bear get the best of me. But Arthur stepped in just in time. Just as I’m sure he’s done for you.”

Eddie nodded, turning towards me with a fond look. “He has.”

Hosea stood up from his chair. “See, Arthur? You do have a heart, after all.”

I snickered at that. “Oh, I wouldn’t go that far.”

The man smirked in return and began makin’ his way out the mansion, winking at Eddie in a friendly manner.

“Don’t listen to him,” Hosea teased as he walked through the door. “He may act like a big, angry moron -- and play the role exceptionally well sometimes, heh -- but there’s a soul lying underneath all that...whether he wants to admit it or not. ...Welp, anyway, I’ll leave you boys alone. In the meantime, I should go speak with Dutch. I know he’s been itchin’ to hit that bank. Stay safe.”

I gave him a casual wave. “You too, Hosea.”

Disappearing behind the mansion’s front doors, Hosea took his leave while Eddie and I stayed behind, the boy turning towards me with a relieved look on his face when he noticed I was no longer bed-ridden.

“Arthur!” Eddie greeted happily as I approached him. “You’re looking much better.”

I casually leaned against the side of the piano. “Thanks to you. How’s the gang been treatin’ you?”

The pianist’s response was surprisingly optimistic. “Most of them have been pretty welcoming. Hosea and Mary-Beth, especially. Mary-Beth can’t seem to get over the fact that you’ve found a new lover. She says it’s ‘adorable.’ Like a romance in one of those books she’s reading.”

I sighed, scratching my beard. “That does sound like somethin’ she would say.”

Eddie flicked his eyes to the side. “...And I may or may not’ve shown her the portrait you made of me.”

A groan escaped me. “...Dammit, Eddie.”

He chuckled. “I’m sorry, but I couldn’t resist. It’s a wonderful drawing.”

“I’m just surprised you kept it this long.”

Eddie looked at me affectionately. “Of course I kept it. It’s...it’s special to me. I take it with me everywhere I go. Just brings back a lot of good memories, you know?”

I awkwardly rubbed the back of my neck, tryin’ to hide the faint blush creeping onto my face. “Well, I’m glad you like it so much.”

A certain thought suddenly crossed my mind, leadin’ me to take a seat next to the boy as I propped myself on the edge of the piano’s thin bench.

“Listen,” I said, shifting inelegantly, “I, ah...I never thanked you properly for gettin’ me outta that camp.”

Eddie didn’t appear bothered. “I understand. You were just concerned.”

I rested my hand on the piano, mindlessly fiddling with its keys. “Yeah, but still. I’d be dead by now if you hadn’t come along and saved my ass -- all by yourself, no less. It was a brave and foolish thing, waltzin’ into their camp the way you did...but I’m grateful nonetheless. So...thank you.”

Scooting closer to the musician, I gently cupped his face and planted a brief kiss on his lips, earning a radiant smile from him as he nestled against my hand.

Eddie gazed me in a tender way, placing his own hand on top of mine.

“I’d do anything for you, Arthur. You know that.”

I nodded, furrowing my brow in uneasiness. “I do. And that’s what worries me. But I also know there ain’t no stoppin’ you once you’ve got your mind set on something. Just...don’t go throwin’ your life away like that again, okay? I don’t wanna die, but if it comes down to it, I’d rather you save yourself. Even if it means you can’t save me.”

The boy frowned at that. “Don’t talk that way, Arthur. I’m not going to abandon you.”

I let out a despondent sigh. “Yeah, well...you may not have a choice.”

Interrupting us before we could talk further, the front door suddenly swung open as Miss Grimshaw came stormin’ through, causing me and Eddie to jolt our heads in her direction to see what was goin’ on.

Susan hurriedly approached me, her temperament fueled with a sense of haste as always.

“Mister Morgan,” she called out in a cranky tone, “Dutch is lookin’ for you. Says he needs to speak with you about the bank job.”

I mentally chuckled to myself. I was wonderin’ how long it’d take for Dutch to hit the bank.

“Alright,” I said, rising from the bench and revealing Eddie in the process. “Guess I better go see him, then. Thank you, Susan.”

Upon noticing his presence, Miss Grimshaw brought her attention to the pianist and abruptly changed her mood, takin’ on a more compassionate and motherly nature.

“Oh!” She blurted out. “Well, hello there, young man. You must be that new member Dutch mentioned.”

I gestured to the boy. “This is Eddie. Eddie Ryan.” I switched over to the pianist. “Eddie, Miss Grimshaw.”

The man stood up from his seat, greeting her in a courteous manner as he reached out a hand.

“Pleasure to meet you.”

Susan politely shook his hand, actually managin’ to crack a smile for once.

“The pleasure is mine,” she replied. “It’s always a pleasure to meet someone with manners.” Grimshaw emphasized the last word, sending a glare my way.

I shrugged innocently. “I’ve got manners.”

The woman gripped my arm, forcefully guiding me out the mansion.

“For a no-good outlaw, perhaps. Now go on and get! Dutch is waitin’ for you in the gazebo outside!”

I chuckled, shielding myself from Susan’s frantic swats as she followed me out the door.

“Alright!” I said with a laugh. “I’m on my way.”

Miss Grimshaw regained her composure once I was outta the building and straightened her blouse, turning to Eddie with a sweet expression on her usually grumpy face.

“Mister Ryan, have you met Karen and Tilly yet?”

“I’m afraid not,” he answered. “I’ve met Mary-Beth, though.”

Susan beckoned him. “Well, allow me to introduce you to ‘em. Them girls drive me insane, and they haven’t got a lick of manners like yourself, but I imagine they’ll be quite fond of you.”

Eddie followed the woman, the two of us divertin’ our paths once I spotted the gazebo.

“I hope you’re right. Lord knows I’ve made more than enough enemies.”

Miss Grimshaw nodded at that with a sigh.

“Haven’t we all.”

A LITTLE LATER

Approaching the gazebo just in front of the mansion, I searched for Dutch as I strolled through Lemoyne’s humid, soupy weather, only to find a snake leanin’ against the fence.

At the moment, Micah was currently under the gazebo’s roof as he sharpened his precious knife, givin’ me an unsettling smirk while I walked up the steps.

He put his knife down for a second.

“There he is...” Micah announced, “Dutch’s favorite son. How are you, Arthur?”

I scowled at him impatiently. “Well, I was fine. What you want, Micah?”

He held his hands up defensively. “Just catchin’ up with you, my brother. No need to get angry. See, I got the chance to speak with Eddie while you was...licking your wounds this past week.”

I paused, not interested in the slightest. “...And?”

Micah smiled insincerely, placing a “friendly” hand on my shoulder. “Well, I’m happy for you, Arthur. Outta all the things to find in Saint Denis, I certainly didn’t expect you to find a lover. It’s...surprising, is all. I just never really thought of you as a romantic. ‘Specially when it came to...y’know...boys.”

I aggressively brushed his hand away. “Yeah, well you don’t do much thinkin’ anyway.”

The man gave me a condescending pout. “Why you gettin’ all sour? I ain’t judging you. In fact...I get it. We all need some sort of distraction. I mean, things is tense recently.”

“Which is why we’d all appreciate it if you left.”

Micah snickered mischievously at that, casually wavin’ his knife in my face as he leaned towards me. “Oh, Arthur...I hope you never change.”

A third, guttural voice jumped in, breaking us up before we could argue more.

“Enough! Both of you.”

Joining us in the gazebo, Dutch ascended the short stairs with a rolled up map in his hand as he stepped in between us, starin’ us down like a disappointed father.

He let out a defeated breath. “Can’t you two put aside your differences for just one minute? We have got a bank to rob, and you’re actin’ like a pair of little boys!”

As always, Micah played the role of the ass-kisser.

“I’m sorry, Dutch...” he apologized. “I don’t know what came over me. I just get...I just get so irritated sometimes, but I know it ain’t gonna do us no good. It...it won’t happen again, boss.”

The other man saw through the apology, but accepted it nonetheless.

“Thank you.”

I rested an elbow on the fence, changing the subject. “So, we still hittin’ the bank?”

Dutch spread the map out. “Yes, but not today. Tomorrow. Now, lemme explain the plan. If you’re willin’ to behave, that is.”

He pointed to the Lemoyne National Bank.

“Alright, as you both know, this city is crawlin’ with lawmen. That means if we rob this bank, every policeman in a five-mile radius is gonna be on top of us within seconds. And that’s why we need a distraction.”

I was with the plan so far. “What kinda distraction?”

Dutch brought our focus to a different part of the map, pointing at the trolley station.

“We’ll send some men to start another ‘robbery’ at the trolley station,” he explained. “That should keep the law away from the bank and give us... eight minutes or so to get in, get the money, and get out.”

I blinked in confusion. “Wait -- you wanna rob two places at once?”

Dutch seemed confident. “Why not? The robbery at the station will be more of a distraction than an actual heist, but if we can pull this off, we’ll get double the reward, and twice the amount of money.”

I still wasn’t sure. “And if the plan goes wrong, we’ll get twice the amount of trouble!”

He held up a reassuring hand. “Now, I know this is a risky move...but we need money, Arthur. And we need to get it soon. This city has thousands of dollars just sittin’ in it. We’d be fools to leave it behind!”

I shook my head, starin’ aimlessly at the swamps in the distance. “I dunno, Dutch. Robbin’ a national bank -- that ain’t no easy task. But breakin’ up the gang and startin’ another robbery on the other side of the city? That’s gonna make our chances of success even lower. The risk outweighs the reward here.”

Micah disagreed because of course he did. “Trust Dutch, Arthur. He knows what he’s doing.”

Dutch added onto that. “And besides, like I said, all we’re doin’ is making a bit of noise. If we can confuse the law and have them split up, that’ll make our escape all the easier!”

“And what if they catch someone, Dutch?” I asked. “We won’t even know until we regroup at camp.”

“They won’t,” he reiterated. “Trust me on this, Arthur. This plan will work. We just need to keep our wits about us, and we need to move fast. Just do what I say, and all will be fine. Oh, and another thing -- I want Mister Ryan to come along with us. He knows his way around Saint Denis, and we’re gonna need that knowledge if we’re hopin’ to evade the law.”

I hesitated. “You wanna bring Eddie to the robbery?”

Dutch sensed my caution. “The boy’ll be alright, Arthur. I can promise you that. Just have some faith.”

I fell silent at that, unsure of what else I could say.

It was pretty evident that Dutch was beyond the point of changin’ his mind, and no matter how much I mighta disliked this plan, I knew he was right about the money.

We could take as many jobs as we liked, and run as many errands as we wanted...but the truth o’ the matter was: the gang was runnin’ low on money. We were stuck in the middle of some godforsaken swamp with Pinkertons on our ass, and the only opportunities to grab some cash all lay in that civilized hellhole called Saint Denis.

We would have to rob something, and fast, if we wanted to get outta here. I just didn’t know if stealing from a national bank and baiting the law with our own people was the answer.

There was also the fact that Dutch wanted Eddie to come with us.

I knew the boy could handle himself, and I had no doubts he’d be able to help us...but just the idea of bringin’ him along to a goddamned bank robbery made me uneasy. I mean, I had already forced him into a den full of outlaws and degenerates. The last thing I wanted was for him to become one himself.

But then again, I didn’t really have much of a choice, did I? After all, beggars couldn’t be choosers, and he was gonna have to pull his weight if he wanted to stay.

I supposed I’d have to do what Dutch said...and just have some faith.

“...Alright,” I finally agreed, earning a satisfied expression from the older man. “I’m in.”

Dutch nodded in approval. “We will survive, Arthur. And before that sun finishes its cycle, we are gonna be a whole, lot, richer. Now, why don’t you go and inform Eddie of the plan? I want the whole gang to be prepared for this. We ain’t robbin’ theaters and galas no more, after all. Tomorrow...we’re hitting the heart of Saint Denis.”

#red dead redemption #red dead redemption 2 #rdr2 #arthur morgan #eddie ryan #arthur morgan x male oc #rdr2 fanfic #rdr2 story

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thatscarletflycatcher · 5 years

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Little Women review, chapter 4: Burdens.

(Until Tumblr fixes the links problem, for previous reviews, look up “Little Women review”’s tag).

In which everyone gets “the party is over” emotional hangover and what I think is the axis of this first part is properly established (it was mentioned in chapter 1): the struggles each sister have to face in order to enter adulthood.

“...cried Jo, losing her temper when she had upset an inkstand, broken both boot lacings, and sat down upon her hat”.

I think someone should make the list of everything Jo damaged through the novels XD

“returned Amy, washing out the sum that was all wrong with the tears that had fallen on her slate.”

Always soooo extra...

I think I have said this before, but I love how much Jo’s way of coping with things is pushing forward and finding the funnier side of things (I can always find something funny to keep me up). It is an excellent mechanism. Everyone is upset, so she tries to be cheerful. Meg is down because she cannot live in luxury, so she tells her sister that he will provide for her once she has made her fortune as a writer.

“I like good strong words that mean something”

I have to get that one framed.

Another thing I love (I say “I love” a lot in these posts, don’t judge me) is how Meg’s desire for luxury stems from having lived better times, and she is in no way condemned for having that desire. The point is, those things are good, but there are other things that are better.

“Rich or poor, we will keep together and be happy in one another” #FamilyGoals.

One of the minor relationships I find really interesting in the story is that of Jo and aunt March, specially considering that both share a dominant trait, their quick temper and the difficulty to see the more sentimental aspects of life (the narrator says of Jo, precisely in this chapter a quick temper, sharp tongue, and restless spirit). It is precisely those traits that make her so disagreeable to Jo, the ones they have in common.

“I suspect that the real attraction was a large library of fine books, which was left to dust and spiders since Uncle March died. Jo remembered the kind old gentleman, who used to let her build railroads and bridges with his big dictionaries, tell her stories about queer pictures in his Latin books, and buy her cards of gingerbread whenever he met her in the street. The dim, dusty room, with the busts staring down from the tall bookcases, the cozy chairs, the globes, and best of all, the wilderness of books in which she could wander where she liked, made the library a region of bliss to her.”

Because I dreamed with that library. Just... that description. And also, Uncle March deserves to be remembered. When you think about it, he smells a lot like prof. Bhaer... #JustSaying.

“Her life was a series of ups and downs, which were both comic and pathetic.”

I feel personally attacked.

Beth:

“Never thinking of any reward but to be loved. Long, quiet days she spent, not lonely nor idle, for her little world was peopled with imaginary friends, and she was by nature a busy bee.”

The story about her dolls always made me tear up, and the fact that they picked up on that detail on the 1994 movie and showed Hannah throwing petals over the dolls, with the most destroyered one in the middle... #IDidn’tNeedMyHeartWhy

Beth’s cross is that she cannot study piano and have a good instrument. Special kudos to the jab at Aunt March.

Aaand I never noticed the foreshadowing of Beth’s death... On this chapter already!

It always cracks me up the story of Jo dropping Amy in the coal hod, and the girl drawing noses. Seriously. Just picture that.

The other thing is how much Amy loved to draw, and from such an early age. It makes one think how mature of her it was to let go of her dream when she realized she wasn’t a genius.

What strikes me the most about her description here is that the narrator mocks her quite a bit: she doesn’t get in trouble at school because she can find her way out with words; her “little graces” are mentioned, and the example used is a whiny complaint; her accomplishments are presented, but then her reading of French was such that she would say right only one of every three words.

Cousin Flo’s hand me downs, what a humiliation. It is real fun to think that Amy would get to travel with her and her tasteless mother through Europe some years later (and be real elegant at it).

At the end of the day Jo got Aunt March hooked in a novel and Meg realized that no money can buy real peace at home. Amy saw one of her classmates being humiliated by Mr. Davis (foreshadowing, more foreshadowing). Beth watched Mr. Laurence doing something nice for someone else... from behind a barrel. And it is all nicely tied up in the end with the story of the father who sent all his children to war and Marmee being oh so subtle about the moral lessons of the chapter.

I usually find this kind of aesop jarring, but for some reason, I’m inclined to forgive LMA for it. I suppose they were really good lessons for the girl I was when I first read the novel.

#Little Women #Little Women review

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happenable-blog · 5 years

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WWE Raw Highlights & Review: April 1st, 2019

Stephanie McMahon makes an announcement Stephanie comes out to open Raw and made an April fool’s joke about her being the fourth competitor in the main event this Sunday. She goes on to announce that it will be the winner takes all in the main event as all the titles will be on the line. I think we all saw it coming. Now the question is will they unify the belts or just have the champion defend both of them separately. It was just an announcement rather than a promo. So no rating here. Seth Rollins confronts Brock Lesnar Heyman and Lesnar came out next to cut a promo. Heyman said that Stephanie saying Winner takes all is poetic justice as the winner(pointing at Brock) will take all Rollins have to offer. He reminds us that Lesnar conquered the streak at Mania and defeated Roman Reigns last year. Both get superheat from the crowd. He says that Rollins is just an afterthought to Brock. And this Sunday the Universal championship match will end with Seth's chest below Brock's feet and title above his head. I guess they just reused this line from Becky Lynch promo last week. “Burn it down” Rollins comes out and says the raw after Mania Brock will no longer be holding the Raw locker room hostage. It maybe improbable for Rollins to win but it is not impossible. Lesnar is just laughing at Seth’s face. Heyman is shouting on themay beide, “He is a funny guy”. Lesnar just shoulder bumps Seth and is walking out but he is taken out by Rollins who hits him with a low blow. Lesnar hits a German and went for an F5 but Rollins counter and hits him with a low blow again. He hits the curb stomp and stands tall with the Universal title.

Not a fan of Rollins hitting Lesnar with a low blow as he is supposed to be a babyface here. That also proves that Seth can’t beat Lesnar without hitting him in the balls. It doesn’t make me believe that Rollins can beat Lesnar on his own. The promo work was good though. Rating: 3.5/5 8 Women Tag Team Match: Women's Tag Team Champions Boss & Hug connection, Natalya & Beth Phoenix vs The IIconics, Nia Jax & Tamina Beth is competing on Raw after 6 years. Nia & Tamina and the IIconics are already in the ring getting the jobber entrance. Michael Cole said that Beth is the only women to compete in both men and women Royal Rumble matches. Did he forgot about Nia Jax just this year? IIconics are great in this match as they do their iconic pose midway in the match while Bayley is out. Peyton went to tag Nia and Tamina but they just jump out of the apron denying to be in the match. Bayley went to tag Sasha in but she is pushed down by Beth. Beth tags herself in. She went to the ropes but Tamina pulled the second rope down to drive her to the floor. Beth spears Tamina through the barricade into the time keeper’s area. The crowd chants “Holysh*t” and “You still got it” to this amazing spot. Natalya, Sasha and Bayley are just looking on over the other side of the ring looking concerned. If you are that concerned just go to her. Peyton takes the glamazon back to the ring. Beth hits her with the glam slam for the win. Both the babyface teams stand face to face after the match. Winner: Boss & Hug , Natalya & Beth Phoenix It did a good job hyping the match this Sunday there is a very less storyline going into the match but I do enjoy random big spots and good to see the glamazon back in the ring. Rating: 3/5 Batista Live

Batista got cheered at his hometown of Washington as he comes out to cut a promo. This was a different promo than usual as the lights went out and the only spotlight was on Batista in the ring as one of the Elias’ performances. The crowd chants "Welcome back". He gets the mic to his face and points at the titantron. A video package plays which shows Batista beating Triple H every single time they had a match and only had one line in the whole video repeating over and over again. That was what Batista said to Triple H on SmackDown 1000 never defeating him. Back in the ring Batista looks directly into the camera and says just three words to Hunter, “Kiss my ass” and drops the mic he even gives some fans at the ringside high fives which were not very heel thing to do. To be honest I loved the promo. I was like woah after he dropped the mic after just three words. But for a go home angle, I would have liked if both competitors would have been there. Maybe just to have a face-off or Triple H comes out to just beat down Batista. Rating: 3.5/5 Elias is outside Metlife stadium. He said he will be headlining WrestleMania with his musical act where there will be no interruptions and the crowd singing “Oh walk with Elias” He says that he will be the only talk of Wrestlemania this Sunday. Well, I am guessing Cena will make a random appearance and will interrupt Elias. Apollo Crews vs Jinder Mahal The ring is weirdly surrounded with the undercard like the Ascension EC3 and even Tyler Breeze was there. Apollo just won with a frog splash. Nothing big in the match Winner: Apollo Crews The trophy was brought on the apron for Apollo to pose with it. Everyone gets in the ring and brawls and sends each other over tge top rope to the hype for the Battle Royal. Crews and Jinder with Singh Brothers are the last ones in the ring. The latter is thrown out of the ring by Crews. The trophy is again brought up on the apron for Crews to pose with. Graves predicted that Che will win the ATG battle royal and to be honest that is a possibility. I just don’t care about this battle royal the winners have no great track records after they won. And beside Braun that’s all your undercard and people I have not seen for months. Why should I care? Rating: 1.5/5 Kurt made his last appearence on Raw The crowd chanted “Thank you Kurt" before he could say anything. He basically thanks the crowd for always cheering and booing him. The announcer focuses everyone’s attention to the titantron. Kurt seemed shocked by this and seemed like it was a genuine surprise for him too. A great video package with all of his career highlights was shown. You can watch the video on wwe.com and also on their official youtube channel. Back in the ring Kurt is filled with tears. Corbin comes out to interrupt the moment. Kurt seems genuinely pissed and I think he is. Corbin says that Kurt can’t stand with the superstars of today. He is just getting slower and can’t last with him. He said he is pissed with everyone filling his DMs saying Kurt deserves someone better as his last opponent. The crowd chants "Yes he does”. Angle challenges Corbin for an exhibition match right now. Corbin does the usual heel move where he teased to get in the ring but backed out. He said that if he gets in the ring Kurt won’t make it to this Sunday. Mysterio comes out and challenges Corbin on Kurt’s behalf. Corbin just attacks Mysterio but he is taken out by Kurt with an Angle Slam. The video package was great, highlighting Kurt’s career. I thought we were getting Angle vs Mysterio tonight? In my opinion, Kurt was for real pissed at Corbin. I still can’t believe they are going on with this match. Do you want to know how I would have had Kurt’s farewell match? Read it here. As for this segment, I just want Corbin to leave my TV screen. Rating: 3/5 Charlie interviews Charlotte backstage. She said she will be the one taking it all at the main event if WrestleMania. Charlie did mention the weird stipulation in the 6 woman tag match later on the night that whoever betrays their team first will be pulled from the main event this Sunday. She said she is not like Ronda or Becky. She is cool-headed. Raw Tag Team Championship Match: The Revival (c) vs Aleister Black & Ricochet The Revival once again didn’t get any entrances. Just give your champions an entrance. The Revival works over Ricochet for a while but he is taken out by a double huricanrana by him. That leads to a comeback by the babyfaces. Revival works over Aleister black now. His arm is injured and he can’t get much offence in. This leads into Ricochet hot tag. He keeps rolling over Wilder for two counts. Wilder drives ricochet face first into the mat after he was punched by Dawson from the outside. But a two count. The Revival is working over Black but he fights back with a boot to Dawson and a tornado DDT to Wilder. Ricochet also dives over the turnbuckle to hit them with his insane dive. The referee is counting out. Wilder made back in the ring but from under the ring Dawson grabs Ricochet’s leg denying him to get back inside handing Revival the win. Winner via count out and still the Raw Tag Team Champions: The Revival This was a good match. I guess Revival won’t be defending those titles at Mania. Well, they at least got to retain the titles. I thought Ricochet and Black were going to win for a moment. Rating: 3.5/5 After the match, Wilder is taken out with the Black Mask and Dawson is hit with a 630. Ronda is air punching backstage when she is approached by Charlie. She said she doesn’t want to talk but goes on to talk anyway. She said this Sunday will be the judgement day for both of her competitors. But if they try anything in the match later the judgement day will be tonight. Roman is getting interviewed backstage. When asked about the rumours of him not being 100% for this Sunday, he said he is going to end the rumours from the source and beat down Drew. Mcintyre beats down Roman from behind and leaves him struggling. Becky Lynch, SmackDown Women's Champion Charlotte Flair & Raw Women's Champion Ronda Rousey vs The Riott Squad Before the match, Charlie is in the gorilla interviewing Lynch. She said she will be the first ever RAW and SD champion this Sunday at WrestleMania. She will break the god complex of Ronda. Becky also said that she has been screwed by the McMahon family in the past and she has no choice but to walk out with every gold to deny the McMahons further screwing her. In the match, Lynch tags herself in by just slapping Charlotte on the back. She mocks charlotte’s walk and told her to punch her, which will, of course, take her out of the WrestleMania main event as per the stipulation of the match. Becky is getting worked by the Riott squad. I think this is her punishment for the Twitter exchange with the rivals. Charlotte tags herself in. She gets on the face of Becky but Ronda tags herself in. Morgan tried to roll Ronda up but she just slams Morgan on the mat and locks the Armbar for the win. Winner: Becky, Charlotte and Ronda As soon as the match ends, Ronda started beating Charlotte. Becky joins in to beat them as well. Security ran down to separate them but they all just beat down the security to have a shot at each other. The cops came out and handcuffs all three of them. Why were the cops out I still have no clue? All three of them are still trying to fight the cops resisting arrest.

Backstage the cops lead them to the car and they have Becky and Ronda in the same car. They both looked at each other and then started to fight each other with the kicks. Ronda just broke the window of the car with a kick. The cops take Becky out of the car. Charlotte then comes out of the other car and kicks Lynch. Then we see Ronda just getting on the driver seat and driving it straight to the other car in front of it. She couldn’t steer as she was stil handcuffed. The brawl was great. I absolutely loved the brawl. Especially with the handcuffs on but why were they handcuffed in the first place? Many people find it funny. And while reading this again I am laughing too. There was no logic there just a big spectacle. But I would let it slip at least I am invested in the blood feud among these three. Rating: 4.5/5 Handicap Match: Braun Strowman vs Jobbers Strowman just screams at them saying you’re Colin Jost and Michael Che. He just bulldozed them over in this match. Runs around the ring for shoulder tackle twice. Throws them in the ring clothesline in the corner. Powerslams both of them one at a time and then a double powerslam with each of them on each shoulder. The End. Winner: Braun Strowman Whatever I can’t care less for this “feud” and the Battle Royal. Rating: 2/5 Bobby Lashley Interview Bobby Lashley and Lio Rush are in the ring next to have an interview with Charlie. Charlie shows the replay of how Finn earned the title shot against Bobby before asking Lashley that is he concerned. Rush says that Balor didn’t pin Lashley and he is just dead weight. Charlie asked Lashley about the rumours the Demon being there this Sunday. Lashley replied that Finn Balor is Demon and Demon is Finn Balor. He has defeated Finn Balor and he will do it same with the Demon. Finn appeared on the titantron saying some jibberish about his Demons being Lashley’s nightmare. I didn’t understand it. But he got covered with smoke and when the smoke settled it was the Demon. It was confirmed that the Demon will face off with Lashley for the IC title I had no clue what was Balor talking about. But at least the Demon is gonna be there. The entrance will be grand. This segment was no good, unfortunately. Rating: 2.5/5 Rey Mysterio vs Baron Corbin Corbin is working over Rey after Rey had some offence, in the beginning, cause… he is small. He just works over him for a LOOOOONG time. Rey finally had some comeback and hit Rey with a tilt a whirl DDT. He hit Corbin with a 619 and went for a splash from the top rope but Corbin rolled out. Corbin hit Rey with a deep six for the win. Winner: Baron Corbin This being in the main event gave me hope that maybe someone will come out to take out Corbin out of the match this Sunday. But after the match, Kurt Angle came out and locks in the Anklelock on Corbin where he tapped. This was your last TV segment before WrestleMania on Raw. Rubbish.

Rating: 2/5 I only loved two segments. The women's brawl and the Batista promo. It's astonishing how I don't care about many matches in the WrestleMania card. Any other day it would have been an average show but you expect more from the go-home show for freaking WRESTLEMANIA. Raw Rating: 2/5 That was our review of the show. Don't forget to follow Happenabler on social platforms by clicking on the icons at the bottom of the page. And stay up to date with our every new post. It's WrestleMania week so a lot of them are coming. Stay up to date and make it happen! Read the full article

#darpantikiya #goclassico #happenable #happenabler #harshpandey #koreandiverse #otakutakara #Raw #Rawreview #tanishadetwani #vaibhavtanwar #wwe

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monarch-solutions · 7 years

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It’s Mod Eta’s turn! :D

send me a fandom and i’ll tell you…

the first character i ever fell in love with: Jack Joyce.

a character that i used to love/like, but now do not: I still like all the characters that I liked the first few times I played Quantum Break.

a ship that i used to love/like, but now do not: I still like the same ships as well. :)

my ultimate favorite character™: Jack JoyceI!!!

prettiest character: ALL OF MY FAVORITES ARE PRETTY (Jack, Liam, Beth, Fiona)!!!!

my most hated character: PAUL SERENE. Hatch is second for my most hated too. AND SOFIA. I hate Paul and Sofia for what they do to Jack and Beth and Hatch for just being a douche in general.

my OTP: JACK X BETH ALL THE WAY!!! God I love every second of their interactions when they’re on screen together. I JUST---- *DIES DUE TO CUTENESS*

my NOTP: Paul x Sofia. I don’t think they deserve each other, but that’s just me.

favorite episode: Monarch Solutions, when Beth and Liam kick a whole lot of ass in the parking garage and then when Liam goes on his one-man rampage throughout Monarch! SIGN ME THE FUCK UP MAN!! :D

saddest death: BETH WILDER, HANDS DOWN. JUST FUCK ME UP NOW. The way Jack reaches out to her and kneels in front of her echo to take the bullet for her... OW.

Liam’s and Charlie’s deaths count because they made me sad too. :’( I really wish Liam didn’t die in both Junctions because then he could’ve still been a character in the sequel, if it ever happens, but no... :(

favorite season: The first and only one. :D

least favorite season: None, because there are only 4 episodes.

character that everyone else in the fandom loves, but i hate: Paul Serene.

my ‘you’re piece of trash, but you’re still a fave’ fave: Charlie Wincott.

my ‘beautiful cinnamon roll who deserves better than this’ fave: Jack, Beth, and Liam all deserved better!

my ‘this ship is wrong, nasty, and makes me want to cleanse my soul, but i still love it’ ship: I don’t ship anyone in QB this way.

my ‘they’re kind of cute, and i lowkey ship them, but i’m not too invested’ ship’:Charlie and Fiona. Those two dorks are really cute. :D

#mod eta #answers #quantum break

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miajolensdevotion · 6 years

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Women of the Bible - HagarThe Woman Who Lost a Bottle But Found a Well

Genesis 16;21:9-17;25:12;Galatians 4:24,25

Name Meaning—Hagar, an Egyptian name, closely resembles the root of the Arabic,flight, familiar to us as the history of Mohammed, descendant of Hagar. It may be taken as an adaptation of her original name to the principal circumstances of her life, and understood to mean,fugitive orimmigrant, which Hagar became.

Family Connections—While the Bible gives us no record of Hagar’s genealogy, legend has supplied her pedigree, as being the daughter of Pharaoh, the king of Egypt, the same who coveted the possession of Sarah in vain. This legendary source affirms that the Egyptian princess became so attached to Sarah that she told her royal father that she would accompany her when she returned to Abraham.

“What!” cried the king, “thou wilt be no more than a handmaid to her!”

“Better to be a handmaid in the tents of Abraham than a princess in this palace,” the daughter replied.

Hagar would not stay behind and join again in the idolatrous rites of her home, so when Abraham and Sarah moved on, she went with them. Sarah was an active missionary of the faith of Jehovah among women, as Abraham was among men, and so Hagar became a convert to the worship of the true God. While this is a pleasing tradition, the likelihood is that Hagar was an Egyptian girl-slave whom Sarah secured for her household while she and Abraham were in Egypt. Hagar bore Abraham his first son, Ishmael, and thus became the foundress of the Ishmaelites and Arab peoples from whom came Mohammed, the founder of Islam.

If Hagar was a slave girl then her mistress was legally entitled to do as she pleased with her. Knowing that it was humanly impossible for her to have children by Abraham, she gave her handmaid to him, that she might have children by her—a custom consistent with moral standards prevailing at that time. Abraham reminded Sarah that her word was law to her own slave and that he had no choice in the matter. Under Sumero-Babylonian law there is this clause in Hammurabi’s Code—

If she has given a maid to her husband and she has borne children and afterwards that maid has made herself equal with her mistress, because she has borne children her mistress shall not sell her for money, she shall reduce her to bondage and count her among the female slaves.

But Sarah ran ahead of God in giving a Gentile idolater from a pagan country to Abraham to bear the promised seed. Poor Hagar—she became the helpless victim of Sarah’s scheming! The whole affair was a sin before God—a sin all three were guilty of. Sarah distrusted God when she resorted to such a wicked expedient. As a child of faith, did she not know that God was able to raise up children out of stones unto Abraham? As for this “friend of God,” in spite of current custom, he should have stoutly refused Sarah’s scheme and obeyed the law of God, and believed the divine promise made to him. The attempt to secure the Child of Promise by Hagar was the result of a lack of faith in God’s omnipotence. Then, Hagar, although the least free and the least responsible, should not have yielded to such an unholy alliance merely to gratify any ambition she may have had. What sorrow, anguish and loneliness Hagar reaped for her compliance in such a plan to forestall God’s promise of an heir for Abraham (

Genesis 15:4,5).

Although the chapter recording the unworthy method of trying to fulfill a divine purpose is only a short one, yet like the shortest verse in the Bible, it is saturated with tears.

Genesis 16 is made up of only sixteen verses and with such we have these three features— The Folly of Sarah We have already seen that Sarah’s folly had its root in unbelief. She was impatient, and wanted the promised child without delay. Her unbelief became contagious for “Abraham hearkened unto her voice.” The pious phrases she uttered were worthless. “The Lord judge” (

16:5 ). She should have appealed for judgment to the Lord before she took the wrong step. She was a godly woman (

Hebrews 11:11 ), but fell into the meshes of unbelief. With distrust there came dishonor. She confessed “my wrong,” but Hagar was the real sufferer, and Sarah’s sin bore bitter fruit, for when she gave Hagar to Abraham, she originated a rivalry which has run in the keenest animosity through the ages, and which oceans of blood have not quenched. The Flight of Hagar Strife quickly followed the human arrangement which Sarah had made. Having conceived by Abraham, Hagar chides the childless Sarah, and the jealousy begotten between these two women was transplanted to their maternal hearts and penetrated even their children. Ishmael came to tease and vex Isaac, and discord arose between Abraham and Sarah. The ill treatment accorded to Hagar by Sarah was not only cruel, but also irrational. Had Sarah not instigated the wrongdoing that was the cause of her jealousy? Therefore it was unreasonable for her to lay the blame upon another. As things were, mistress and maid could scarcely dwell together, so Hagar fled. Better a flight than a fight! Being compelled to flee was a thing forbidden to a bondwoman.

Far from home in “the way to Shur,” the appearance of a calm and gracious angelic messenger from God must have been a relief to the poor, pregnant fugitive. As Hagar traveled further from her jealous mistress the Lord was at her heels, and said to her in her distress, “Return to thy mistress.” Hagar had left her position as handmaid without notice and without permission, so she must return. Sarah had wronged her, but she was not permitted to retaliate by doing wrong herself. Two wrongs do not make a right. It was no easy matter for Hagar to return and submit herself to Sarah, but it was the only right course, and a divine revelation helped her to pursue it.

At that renowned well Hagar met God, and in awe cried, “Thou God seest me.” He had given her counsel, and although not pleasing to flesh and blood, Hagar took it and went back to Sarah. Had she persisted in remaining in the desert she might have died in it. God gave her a promise that although the wrongdoing of her master and mistress had led her into a false position, yet His favor would rest upon her and she would have a son who would be the progenitor of a great multitude. The soothing promise of God was a balm for the wounded spirit of the poor and lowly handmaid. Though Ishmael, the name God gave Hagar for her coming son, might not be the Child of Promise as Isaac would be, yet he would be the child of a promise made to her.

Is it to be wondered at that she called the well where God spoke to her and revealed the future of her son “Beth-lahairoi,” meaning, “The well of Him that liveth and seeth me”? It was there that the veil fell from Hagar’s eyes, and she received the assurance that she was the object of God’s special care. Dr. Alexander Whyte extols Hagar for her submission to God in this glowing fashion—

Hagar, by reason of the extremity of her sorrow; by reason of the utter desolateness and brokenness of her heart; and by reason of the sovereign grace and abounding mercy of God—Hagar, I say, stands out before us in the very foremost rank of faith, and trust, and experience, and assurance. Hagar, to me, stands out among God’s very electest saints. Hagar has only one or two who can stand beside her in her discovery of God, in her nearness to God, in her face-to-face fellowship with God, in the instructiveness, in the comfort, and in the hopefulness of her so close communion with God.... The best and the most blessed of them all was not more or better blessed than was Hagar the polluted outcast on her weeping way to Shur. The pure in heart shall see God. The Forecast Concerning Ishmael In the strength of the revelation of God received in the desert, Hagar returned to her mistress and bore Abraham his child. Abraham was 86 years of age (

Genesis 16:16 ) and then, when he reached his 100th year (

Genesis 21:5 ), Sarah bore him Isaac. This means that for over 14 years Hagar and her son lived in the patriarch’s home with all the tension and feeling there must have been as Sarah daily looked upon the son of her husband by another woman. After Isaac was born Hagar and Ishmael began to manifest their jealousy, and when Ishmael began to maltreat Isaac, Sarah could stand it no longer, and compelled Abraham to cast out the bondwoman and her child. As Bible names often set forth some feature of the character or history of those who bore them, so Ishmael meaning “God shall hear,” was fully understood by Hagar when in the wilderness (

Genesis 21:9-21 ) God heard the moaning of her broken heart.

How painters and poets have seized upon this pathetic incident of the poor woman and her boy in the wilderness, thirst-ridden and ready to die! One of the finest masterpieces adorning the Dresden Gallery is the painting calledHagar in the Wilderness—and cold is the heart that can gaze upon it without deep emotion. The boy is pictured on his back, dying with thirst, while his poor but beautiful mother in an agonizing prayer, “lifted up her voice and wept,” saying, “Let me not see the death of the child.” Could anything be more poignant? True, Hagar had “despised Sarah” and “mocked Isaac,” but surely she had not deserved such cruel treatment as this—death from hunger and thirst in a barren land!

But how Hagar’s extremity became God’s opportunity. When the last drop of water had gone, and Hagar tenderly places her almost dead boy under the shrubs, God heard the dying cry of the lad, and also the wail of Hagar’s broken heart, for out of heaven came His voice, “What aileth thee, Hagar? Fear not.” Then God opened her eyes and she saw a well of water, and both she and her boy were saved from death. Abraham had given Hagar a bottle, but it was soon empty. God gave her a well, and the lad drank and God was with him, and he grew and became an archer in the wilderness. The last glimpse we have of Hagar is of her securing a wife for her son, out of the land of Egypt, her own land (

Genesis 21:21 )—the land of idols and worldliness. Untaught by the piety and instruction of Abraham, and by God’s mercy to herself, Hagar failed Him in the choice of such a wife for the boy whom He had blessed.

The practical lessons to be learned from the history of Hagar have been fittingly summarized by Dr. James Crichton in his article on Hagar inThe International Standard Bible Encyclopedia—

The life and experience of Hagar teach, among other truths, the temptations incident to a new position; the foolishness of hasty action in times of trial and difficulty; the care exercised over the lonely by the all-seeing God; the Divine purpose in the life of everyone, however obscure and friendless; how God works out His gracious purposes by seemingly harsh methods; and the strength, comfort and encouragement that ever accompany the hardest experiences of His children.

It only remains to be said that Paul uses the story of Hagar as an allegory to distinguish law from grace (

Galatians 4:21-31 ). Hagar the bondwoman is contrasted with Sarah the freewoman, and Ishmael “born after the flesh” with Isaac “born through promise”; thence freedom and grace appear as the characteristic qualities of Christianity. Hagar represents the Old Covenant and Sarah the New Covenant which is superior to the Old with its ordinances. Under grace all within the household of faith live by faith, and Sarah represents “the Jerusalem that is above”—“our mother” (rv), which is the free spiritual city to which all children of the promise even now belong (

Philippians 3:21 ).

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galadrieljones · 5 years

Text

The Lily Farm - Chapter 31

AO3 | Masterpost

Rating: M (Mature) - sexual content, violence, and adult themes

Chapter 31: The Wayward Minister

My Dearest Reverend,

Mary Beth and I have decided to get married, and we would be most thankful if you would do us the honor of performing the service. It is to be held up at the Winterson Bed and Breakfast near Emerald Ranch as soon as possible. If you would prefer not to ride, I have included $5 in this envelope, which should be enough to buy you a train ticket from St. Denis. We will wait for you until June 30th. If you have not arrived by then, we will travel to the church in Valentine, no hard feelings.

I ain’t much of a man for the Bible, sir, but I do remember one verse you gave to me many a year ago, from John I believe: “He that is without sin among you, let him cast the first stone.” Something like that. The folks who own the Wintersons’ establishment are real nice, and they will not judge you nor any of us. I know that, should you choose to come, you will be as clean as you can be. I have nothing but faith in you, sir.

I have similarly sent for Dutch and Hosea, but seeing as we are all wanted men in a great deal of shit these days, the rest of the gang must be left behind. We hope to see you soon.

Sincerely,

Arthur

Swanson had been lying in the weeds at Shady Belle when he received the letter.

“You alive?” said Karen, nudging him with the toe of her boot. Of course, she meant it in a colloquial way, but the question, to Reverend Swanson, was one of deeply profound meaning. “Hello?”

“Yes,” he said, sitting straight up, coming out of an existential nightmare in which bugs crawled all over and inside of his body “Miss Jones.”

“Got a visitor.” She walked away.

Standing there now was a young man wearing a messenger’s cap. He could have sworn that it was Arthur Morgan twenty years ago. “You Reverend Swanson?” the boy said.

Swanson rubbed his eyes. It was not Arthur. It was not twenty years ago. He had a splitting headache. “Yes, I’m Swanson,” he said. He took off his hat. He stood slowly, one foot at a time and dusted off his pants at the knees. “How can I help you?”

“I got a letter here for you on express delivery from Mr. Arthur Morgan.”

“Arthur?”

“Yes, mister. Big man with a pretty horse? Looked like a gunslinger if you ask me, but I ain’t got no interest in his work. No, sir. He paid me double to see I get this here letter to you by this very morning, and I’d appreciate it, mister, if, next time you talk to him, you could confirm my success.”

“What?” said the Reverend. The kid seemed to be speaking a hundred miles per hour. “Oh, yes. Of course.”

The boy with the letter nodded. He was tall and lean but in an awkward sort of way, and he smoked a cigarette as he handed over the envelope. He wore simple clothing that suggested he was of a lower class family, miners probably. Annesburg no doubt. He did very much remind Swanson of Arthur when Arthur was real young—just a kind of blot-on-the-town but good intentioned, maybe a little more put together around the edges than Arthur ever was but the same softness in the eyes. He carried with him a leather messenger bag, and inside of it was a book by Mark Twain, though Swanson could not see which. It warmed his heart that the boy was somehow literate, and he wished to save his soul but he had his own soul needed saving first, and in the meantime, could do nothing but tip the boy generously with a handful of coins from his pocket and send him on his way.

“Thanks, mister,” said the boy. “The man Arthur Morgan said he was not expecting your reply, so I’ll be leaving now. Do you know where I can find a Hosea Matthews?”

“Yes,” said the Reverend. “Hosea—he should be in St. Denis. Check the saloon. The fancy one. He’s, uh, in his late fifties. White hair. He’ll be with a somewhat younger, singular looking man in black”

“Thanks a lot.”

”What is this about? Young man? Do you know?”

“I got no idea. You have a good day, mister.”

“Oh. You, too.”

The boy got back on his horse and rode away.

Upon reading Arthur’s letter, Swanson wiped his brow with a handkerchief from his pocket, picked up his valise, which contained his Bible and all of his earthly belongings and set off walking through the bayou to clear his brain. He had done this many times. Some people were afraid of this place, but he knew that if you just left the gators alone, they would leave you alone, and he was unafraid of night folk, because he knew that should they take his life it was meant to be and karmic retribution for his sins. They were unaware of their own barbarism, thought Swanson. They were just living the life handed to them as any other. He walked all the way to St. Denis. It took several hours.

When he got there, he went to the saloon and bought a bowl of soup and drank water to kill his headache and recuperate. He did not order any whiskey. He then walked through the clean streets to the church where it was less clean, and there were orphans and a couple of Mexican men learning English from a Bible with one of the Brothers on the steps. Swanson had been coming here for some weeks now, visiting with the Mother Superior Sister Calderón. She was providing him guidance as he journeyed toward redemption and sobriety.

He found her inside, sitting at a table in the kitchen, eating lunch alone. The church was otherwise empty aside from a few who sat with their heads down in the pews. Sister Calderón was eating a steak with a fork and knife and just finishing up when he arrived.

“Reverend,” she said, smiling. “Come, join me.”

He sat down at the table across from her, feeling disheveled. The sun came through the simple window overhead, looking like a bright square. “Good afternoon, Sister.” He removed his hat.

“This is a surprise,” she said. “I thought we were meeting tomorrow.”

“I thought so, too,” said Swanson. “But something has come up.”

“Oh?”

He took a deep breath and examined the brim of his hat and the stitching where it was coming apart around the edges. She got up to place her dishes in the sink and to pour him a glass of water. He drank some and looked down at his hands. “I received a letter from a friend today.”

“What is your friend’s name.”

“Arthur. Arthur Morgan.”

She lit up in recognition. “Yes, I know Mr. Morgan. He has donated to the church and done me many favors. He is your friend?”

“Yes,” said Swanson. “I’ve known him a long time. I did not know he was affiliated with you here.”

“We, too, are friends,” she said. “He is trying to atone, like you and me.”

Swanson smiled at this. It brought him joy.

“What did he say in his letter?” said Sister Calderón.

“He said that he is getting married,” said Swanson, “to a girl that has been traveling with us now for some years. She is a very kind young woman, been kinder to me than I believe I deserve. They have both been kinder to me than I believe I deserve. Arthur, he—he saved my life, some months ago when I was at my lowest, most reprehensible point, and now he has asked if I would…officiate them in matrimony. Provide the service. Up in Emerald Ranch, very soon.”

“Mr. Morgan is getting married?” said Sister Calderón. “That is wonderful news. And for him and his beloved to ask you to take part in such a special day, that is a rare blessing.”

“I do agree, Sister,” said Swanson. “I do. But I am afraid. I don’t know that I’m not ready.”

“Ready for what?”

“To preserve him and his beloved and unite them before the eyes of God. I have been wayward far too long, Sister. I am a bad man. I am unworthy.”

Sister Calderón sighed in her wise way. She placed her hand on his. “Reverend, you are not a bad man.”

He shook his head.

“I know that I cannot make you see that. You must see it for yourself. You know, Mr. Morgan is always saying the same thing to me. I am a bad man. He is working on this, the same as you, and he would not have sent for you if he did not think you were worthy of his cause. It is this way he chooses to communicate your worth to you.”

“I know that’s supposed to make sense,” said the Reverend. “I known Arthur since he was a teenager.”

“I believe you should take this leap,” she said. “Of course, it is up to you. But you should go. That is the clear path. It is a sign! It is your opportunity to confront your fears, confront your God and begin to make amends. To give the gift of love.”

Swanson picked up the cup, swallowed some more of the water. Overhead, the crucifix on the wall seemed very heavy and mundane. A fly was tapping at the window from the inside, searching for escape. “Will you accompany me?” he said. “Sister? I cannot let him down. I am far less likely to do that if—if I am not alone.”

She smiled again, squeezing his hand assuredly. “I will. We will take the train, first thing tomorrow morning.”

They sat some time longer, speaking of Arthur and his beloved, and then of Christ and other mysteries.

Hamish rode about half a day behind Arthur and Mary Beth. He wanted to cut over to Moonstone Pond, spend some time in solitude, fishing. He didn’t often make it far from the lake up there on his own. He assured them both that he would be okay.

Now, camping in Ambarino for one night, Mary Beth caught a fish, and Arthur cleaned it up and cooked it for them. The fire made beautiful sparks that went up like little plumes, and the weather was fine.

“I might never get bored of this,” said Mary Beth. She had good color in her cheeks that night. She said she was feeling better. She had a handful of pebbles and was tossing them into the fire one by one. “Camping.”

“I never really knew you liked camping,” said Arthur, frying up the fish. “I always thought you was more of an indoor girl. Before, of course. Could just be the way you seem.”

“Can’t really be an indoor girl when you live most of your life on the run,” said Mary Beth. “Shady Belle might be falling apart but it’s the first warm house I’ve called home in…years.”

Arthur smiled. “I imagine Shady Belle was a beauty in her time.”

“I'm sure she was."

After dinner, they played several games of Hearts. Mary Beth complained that she was no good at Hearts. Arthur wouldn’t let her win though. He was trying to smoke less and had taken up chewing on reeds and sticks and branches instead. This part of him was familiar and it made him seem younger. His hair had grown out now, down to the very tops of his shoulders, and it had gotten lighter being in the southern heat for so many months, blanched from the daylight, and his eye lashes even looked kind of blond. On their final hand, she studied him closely and reached to put one stray lock of hair behind his ear. This made him look at her casually, but then he kept looking at her, chewing that reed, and he grinned and put the loose hair behind her ear, too. “You’re real pretty, you know that?” he said, tossing the reed to the dirt. “I’m sure I’ve told you that a thousand times, but it’s true.”

“Thank you, Arthur,” she said.

“You’re welcome.”

“When we get married, I don’t want anything to change,” she said. “I just wanna be your wife.”

“Ain’t nothing gonna change,” he said. “Save for maybe our location, eventually. And, well.” He nodded to her tummy—still flat. It wouldn’t grow for a little while yet. “We’ll have company.”

“You’ll still read me poetry?”

He smiled. “Yes, I will.”

“Do you think Dutch will come?” said Mary Beth.

Arthur sighed. He shrugged. “I hope so. I don’t know that it’ll feel the same if he ain’t there.”

“Yeah,” said Mary Beth.

They heard some nightingales, and then a distant loon. The fire blazed and crackled. The sky overhead was so black, and the stars were so clear.

He kissed her, and she took off his hat and grabbed him by the collar. Sometimes, she could still sense his near surprise upon being touched with her reckless abandon. Like he was delayed, and it took him some time to let go, but once he did, it drove him. As a gunslinger, Arthur was full of swagger and aloofness for the craft, but when it came to his personal life, he had been closed for too long, never opening up to anybody, hiding himself so as to never have to apologize to the world for existing. He had a beautiful soul, but few had seen it.

She pushed him onto his back in the weeds, throwing her full weight. She knew she was kind of clumsy in most respects, but it didn’t really stop her. He seemed to like that about her anyway. Like he had to hold her steady. She had him out of his belt and suspenders in what felt like seconds and hiked up her own skirt. He got a desperate grip on her, and she wanted it to go fast, like a freight train. They were out in nature. He stayed beneath her the whole time, talking to her, telling her things in his deep, comforting voice. He was some kind of elegant man. When Arthur finished, his eyes were closed and his head stretched back so she could see the cords and the muscles in his neck. She touched them as he came, and she thought about how long she’d known him as nothing more than a friend and the parts that had changed between them and the parts that had stayed the same.

“Maybe we could go to St. Denis after this,” she said when it was done. They had crawled into their tent now, and he had his arm around her and one of his hands piecing through her hair. “Like on a date.”

“You wanna go on a date with me in St. Denis?” said Arthur, smiling with his eyes closed.

“Sure. We could see one of them moving picture shows.”

“That would be nice.”

“You think Dutch is gonna want us to do something?” she said. She had her hand on his chest, which rose and fell in even fashion. “Didn't you say something about a poker game on a river boat? Seems like it’s time.”

Arthur sighed. She looked up to try and guess what he was thinking.

“What’s wrong?” she said.

“Nothing,” he said. “I just don’t really feel like thinking about river boat poker games right now.”

“I’m sorry,” she said.

“Don’t be sorry.” He looked at her. “We should go to sleep, Miss Gaskill. I wanna get going early tomorrow.”

“Okay,” she said. She reached past him to turn down the lantern. “But it ain’t gonna be Miss Gaskill much longer, remember.” She kissed him on the cheekbone.

Arthur seemed confounded by this, but pleasantly so. “You’re right,” he said.

They both looked up then, as they could hear the wind picking up outside and rustling against their tent. It was only wind, but for some reason, it surprised them. They waited. The wind held steady and then died down and then picked up and held steady agin. They looked back at one another and then nestled in.

“Goodnight, Arthur Morgan," said Mary Beth.

“Goodnight, Miss Gaskill.”

“You are a damn cheater, John Marston."

They were sitting around the table with Lawrence and Lizette, playing blackjack for pennies. Jack was already upstairs sleeping. It was a little after nine o’clock.

“That’s a lie,” said John, collecting the pot. “I’ve never once cheated at cards. That was always Arthur’s thing.”

“Oh, please,” said Abigail. “Like he never taught you.”

John laughed at this. “Believe me, he tried. He used to make me sit for hours. Him teaching, me listening. But I wasn’t no good from the start. Just too honest, I guess.”

She shoved him, laughing.

“I think you’re both pretty damn good,” said Lawrence, cleaning his glasses with a delicate yellow handkerchief. “At least you’re giving me a run for my money, and I’m quite good.”

“Not a lot to do but play cards when you’re camping in the wilderness,” said Abigail, straightening her ponytail. “Even the women learn gambling.”

“It’s a valuable skill,” said Lizette, in earnest. “Especially for a woman. Nobody would ever suspect it.”

John gathered up the cards then, his turn to deal. The kettle hissed from the kitchen. Lawrence got up to take it off the fire. He poured the tea and offered a little rum to go with it. They all said yes. “What what was it you said about Arthur?” He was pouring the tea into four neat and pretty porcelain tea cups. They had a very lovely blue filigree. “That cheating cards was his thing?”

“I don’t think he does it much no more,” said John, shuffling, “but when we was younger, like real young, he used to pull the wool over every fool gambler’s eyes in town. A real hustler. He can count cards, memorize the order of a deck, predict when they’ll turn up in a pile, and he also has some sleight of hand.”

“Like magic?” said Lizette.

“Yes, ma’am. It used to be one of his true specialties, always an ace up his sleeve.” John laughed to himself.

Lawrence passed around the tea cups. “It must take a great deal of intelligence to hold the ordering of an entire deck of cards in one’s mind. He sounds formidable.”

“I never thought about it like that,” said John, scratching at the scruff on his chin, “but he always was sort of like that. Smart, you know? He hides it pretty well.”

“Too well,” said Abigail. “It ain’t right. A man shouldn’t have to hide.”

John sighed, started dealing the cards. “No, he shouldn’t.”

“You know, when we first met Arthur,” said Lawrence, sitting down and sipping his tea, “he and Mary Beth were posing as married grain farmers who had been robbed.”

“No shit,” said John. Abigail cleared her throat, socked him above the knee. “I mean, uh, tell us about that.”

Lawrence smiled. He liked them. They were a very young couple, they tried hard, and their boy was extremely well-behaved. “Well, Mary Beth came to our door flailing, saying her husband had been beaten up and they'd been robbed of their wagon, full of corn. They were looking for a place to stay.”

“Corn?” said John.

“That sounds like Mary Beth’s idea. She plays a pretty good hysterical wife.”

“That, she did,” said Lawrence. “Of course your man Arthur, he’s no corn farmer. I could tell by his guns and his demeanor alone. But like you two, they were charming and polite, and they seemed in love. It’s hard to distrust people like that. Though Arthur did have a gunshot wound—more like a graze in his arm that I stitched up for him. I still am not sure how he got it.”

Abigail was red in the cheeks. She was smiling down into her porcelain cup. The idea of seeming in love made her both self-conscious but also relieved. “I’m sure it was nothing,” she said. She sipped her tea. “Arthur's a tough specimen, and he's had a lot worse.”

This seemed to concern Lawrence, but Lawrence said nothing.

“So you was in the war?” said John, gesturing to the Union kepi hanging by the door. “Arthur said you was from Illinois. I am, too. Though I don’t really remember it the way I should.”

“Yes,” said Lawrence. “I was born in a city called Rockford.”

"What did you do in the war?" said Abigail.

"I was a medic," said Lawrence, adjusting his glasses. "I was no innocent, but I never saw true battle."

“What you saw might’ve been a fair bit worse than battle,” said Abigail. “Nursing wounds ain’t no picnic.”

Lawrence seemed to find this very interesting. “No, Mrs. Marston. It isn’t.”

She blushed again. “Just Abigail. Please.”

“Have you nursed many wounds, Abigail?” he said. Then he shifted in his seat a little. He seemed pensive. Lizette reached for his hand. He squeezed it once and smiled at her, then he took a long drink of his tea.

"More than my fair share, I reckon."

“You said something before, about that. It bothered me.”

“Oh?” she said. She looked at John, mortified, then back at Lawrence. “I—I’m sorry. I didn't mean it—to be a bother—”

“No, no. I didn't mean it like that,” said Lawrence. “I'm very sorry. I just meant—you said that Arthur’s had a lot worse. That’s what bothered me."

"Oh."

"We've looked after them now, a couple times. Him and Mary Beth. They seem okay, but I get the sense they're always running. We care about them. What did you mean by that? What happened to Arthur?”

Abigail felt John taking her hand under the table. She was embarrassed. "I—"

“You should ask him,” said John, stepping in. “He’ll tell you.”

Lawrence smiled, impressed. He nodded. “I’ll do that,” he said. “And I’m very sorry again, Abigail. I didn’t mean to make you feel like you'd done something wrong, or to put you on the spot.”

She looked up at him. He was a very nice man. She was not used to someone being so concerned, and certainly not a stranger. “It’s fine," she said. "I’m just—I don’t like makin a fool of myself. For obvious reasons. Maybe I'm a little too touchy.”

“You’re perfect,” said Lizette. She placed her little palm on Abigail’s cheek. “Do not be so nervous, child.”

“Thank you,” said Abigail. "I appreciate that."

Just then, they heard the rustling of a horse outside. Abigail and John both perked up, glancing at one another. Then they looked at Lawrence who was still deep in thought.

“I thought they wasn’t coming till tomorrow,” said Abigail.

“Perhaps they’re early?” said Lizette.

“Could be,” said Lawrence, surfacing. He pushed back from the table, slowly. He seemed to gather his thoughts, and then he seemed to quickly disengage and went to the door. He picked up his shotgun. They all waited until they heard knocking.

Lawrence cracked the door open, left the chain pulled, his usual approach. John was standing between the front door and the kitchen table, a little like an attack dog. It was just habit. Abigail and Lizette just sat, waiting. “Can I help you?” said Lawrence.

But the voice, right away—it was familiar. “Yes, is this the Winterson establishment?”

“Hosea?” said Abigail. She smiled, got up from the table. “It’s okay. It’s just Hosea.”

Lawrence glanced at her, then back at John, who nodded, then back to the man through the door. “Hosea?” he said.

"That’s me. I’m here for the wedding.”

Lawrence closed the door and dropped the chain. He set his shotgun down on the floor beside the door jamb. Then he opened the door again, all the way this time. Hosea stepped inside, removed his hat. He was alone, and he was a sight to see.

Abigail rushed to him. She hugged him, tight. He smelled like the cold air outside and just like Hosea. “You came,” she said.

“Of course I came,” said Hosea. “You think I’d miss Arthur’s wedding? Where are they?"

"They ain't here yet," said Abigail. "They're coming tomorrow."

"Good."

“Where’s Dutch?” said John. “I thought Arthur sent for you both.”

On the other side of the room, the clock made its low chime. It was ten o’clock. “No Dutch,” said Hosea. He and Abigail parted and he smiled at John, a little strained. “Not this time, son.” Hosea approached Lawrence then, held his hand out in a steadfast, very upright fashion. “Lawrence Winterson, I assume.”

“Yes, sir. You're not the minister, are you?”

“No,” said Hosea, smiling. They shook. “No, I’m just a friend. A very old friend. My name is Hosea Matthews.”

“Well, it’s wonderful to have you, Mr. Matthews. Come in, come in. We’ll show you to your room.”

“Thank you, good sir. The ride was long, and I’m quite tired.”

“Of course.”

Lizette went with them both upstairs. She insisted on turning down the linens for each of her guests. While they were gone, John and Abigail stood by the table where the cards were all scattered about with the abandoned tea cups. They both looked at the cards, and then Abigail looked at John. “What’s wrong?” she said.

“Nothing,” said John. He seemed pissed off. He went out to the porch, his boots heavy on the wooden floors.

She followed him out, closing the door behind them. It was cooler outside, so she tightened her shawl. He lit a cigarette, gave it to her. Then he lit one for himself. They stood and smoked for a while. She awaited him nervously, wishing she could just read his damn mind. She knew something was wrong.

Eventually, he shook his head and looked down at his hand, holding the cigarette. “Jesus Christ."

"What's wrong?"

"You heard Hosea. Not this time.”

“What?”

“Dutch isn’t coming. Not this time.”

“Oh," she said, almost relieved. "So what?"

“So, when the hell is Arthur ever gonna get married again?”

Abigail took a long, deep breath. She tossed her cigarette to the wood and stamped it out with the toe of her boot. She was trying to see the reason in it. Truth be told, she didn't hold as much faith in Dutch as those boys did. Hosea, yes. But not Dutch, and she wasn't surprised. “I see what you mean," she said, trying to be kind. "But maybe...maybe he didn’t wanna leave the camp unguarded. Or maybe he was afraid of bringing danger, John. I mean, he ain’t exactly low profile as far as criminals is concerned, and you saw what he did to Colm O'Driscoll. Try not to jump to the worst possible conclusion until we know what's going on, if you can.”

John stepped out to the edge of the porch. It was getting windy. You could see it coming across, blowing the long grasses and hear it rustling through the trees. It seemed to mildly disturb the horses. A lonesome hound wandered across the lawn then. It was a strange sight and it sort of startled Abigail. The hound had big, floppy ears. It went over to sniff at something on the lawn, but it was disinterested in the two of them. It disappeared into the darkness, like a ghost, keeping its watch.

“You think Swanson’ll make it?” said Abigail.

John finished his cigarette, looked back to her. He them seemed to soften. He came over and took her hand again, just for a moment. He looked down at her knuckles. Her bones were delicate. Compared to his, they were like little works of art. “I hope so,” he said.

“If not, we’ll all just go to Valentine,” she said. "They got a nice church there, with plenty of pews."

He smiled. He gave her back her hand. “You always know how to look on the bright side, Abbie.”

She got bashful from this. She really tried.

Meanwhile, Reverend Swanson slept in the church that night back in St. Denis. Sister Calderón had offered him a cot, but he wanted to sleep in the pews where it was cold. He stared up at the ceiling, which was unadorned but beautifully constructed. He had his hands folded together, resting on his chest. He lie very still. He heard many strange noises in the church that night—like mice, and there were bats up in the belfry. It was windy, too, and the wind had come on quickly, and it was blowing against the building, sounding like ghosts, whistling and rattling the window panes. At some point, Swanson found the courage to close his eyes, and to dream. Once, he had been a great minister. He could command entire rooms. Entire congregations of good, god-fearing people. It had been Swanson, in fact, who had counseled Dutch on the art of passionate oration long ago. Of course, Dutch was a different kind of minister, but still.

#red dead redemption 2 #rdr2 #arthur morgan #mary beth gaskill #arthur x mary beth #reverend swanson #sister calderon #abigail roberts #john marston #jack marston #hosea matthews #rdr2 fanfic #the lily farm #sorry not quite the wedding yet #i had more to do first #<3

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