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alwaysbeliev · 3 years

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Same as the Last

pairing: Arthur x Reader

summary: Mary Linton has summoned Arthur once again, and he has dropped everything to see her. You're left at Shady Belle to wonder what is going on and what it means for your relationship.

word count: 1,782

notes: you can find this on AO3 under the same username, if you wish to give it love there, too! it’s been a long time since i really got into writing, so i’m taking baby steps. it might be small, but i hope you enjoy it anyway!

Curse that Mary Linton.

Pacing, pacing, all you could do was pace. The others were getting tired of it. Mrs. Grimshaw had already given you several chores, all of which you completed at haphazard speed. The laundry was still dripping on the line, puddles forming underneath in the already soaked ground. It was gonna take a thousand years to dry. But you had other things on your mind.

“Is that from your secret lover?” you had teased Arthur earlier. A letter had arrived for him, brought from the post office by Pearson, and he had scarcely looked at it when you asked. He chuckled at your joke. But as he studied the writing and unfolded the paper, his smile fell, replaced with a strange mixing of emotions you couldn’t quite place.

“No, it’s…” His voice trailed off as his eyes scanned the words before him.

“Arthur?” You tried peeking over his shoulder, but in a defensive move, he turned so you couldn’t see it. “Is everything okay?”

Your mind started racing as you wondered what it might be. As far as you were aware, the outlaw had no outside obligations. None of the gang did. Quickly, you started cycling through any recent or semi-recent events, wracking your brain for an answer, anything that might help solve this weird and uncomfortable puzzle. Maybe it was some kind of summons? You’d heard of the law issuing letters. But if that were the case, then the gang’s pseudonym at the post office was compromised. Was it related to unfinished business in Valentine?

It suddenly clicked. Right as Arthur finished reading, you said, “Mary.”

“I, uh... “ At least he had the decency to look sheepish. He nodded.

Immediately, your mood had soured. And it had only gone downhill from there. The letter arrived this morning, Arthur had read it after breakfast, and offered it to you to read after he had finished. It was from Mary, alright. She was in Saint Denis, and, yet again, she was begging for Arthur’s help. You tried not to be angry, but you were. Mary was long before you and you knew that, and yet, you were still strangely jealous of her. Despite existing long before you in Arthur’s life, she was still receiving so much attention, so much of his time, so much of his… You couldn’t think of what it was exactly, but it was infuriating.

And now, here you were. Mid-afternoon. Roaming aimlessly around Shady Belle, getting on everyone’s nerves. Pearson, who was usually one to nag those who were bored into helping prep the food, was avoiding you like the plague. You had taken to practicing your aim, your volcanic pistol in your hand, squinting at the glass bottles you had lined up on the end of the dock. It was cruel, but you imagined each one was Mary and Arthur. Bang! There goes the engagement ring. Bang! Their stupid faces kissing. Bang!

You jumped about a mile in the air as the last gunshot came from behind you. Whirling around, you found yourself face to face with Arthur, lowering his revolver. He was smiling, just a slight lift to the left side of his mouth, and he pretended to blow smoke from the barrel of his weapon, spinning it poorly around his finger before replacing it in his holster. He approached you with his thumbs hooked in his belt to admire his work.

“Always were a strong shot,” he commented, nodding his head towards the bottles.

“You’ve been doing this a long time,” you grumbled. Arthur chuckled.

“Not me, I was talkin’ about you.”

You could only half shrug. You didn’t want to look him in the eyes, though you knew he was searching for yours. He sighed deeply and shuffled his feet.

“Look, can we- Can we talk? I don’t want this to be turned into a, a big thing.”

Reluctantly, you lifted your eyes and met his. The look on his face was begging you to have pity on him, exposing a strange vulnerability you had been seeing more from him lately. It tugged at your heartstrings and you finally caved. You tossed your head back, staring at the sky for a second as you exhaled sharply, drawing strength from the clouds above you.

“Fine.”

With a flourish, you extended your arm in a sweeping, “Right this way” motion, indicating he lead the way to a quiet spot. He stared at you a moment before stepping past you, walking towards the house. You trailed behind him, your mind returning to its tumultuous state it had been in most of the day. He had been gone so long, the sun was starting to go down, painting the campsite in orange hues. What could he have been doing all day? Mary hadn’t said what was going on in her letter, just hinted at it. You had spent an hour looking over it and scouring it for information. Man, your stomach hurt from the anxiety.

The two of you ended up in your shared room on the upper floor of the former plantation home. Arthur had held the door open for you, and you found yourself unable to sit down. Behind you, Arthur tried to encourage you to sit, but you could only shake your head. He edged past you to take a seat instead.

For a long while, you just stared at each other. Arthur removed his hat and ran a hand through his hair. You couldn’t bring your mind to form any words for him. All the anger you had had that morning started to drain out of you at the sight of him. There was a sad air around him, something had happened, but you weren’t sure you wanted to hear what. He finally broke the gaze you had each other trapped in and leaned forward, resting his elbows on his knees.

“How’s Mary?” Your voice finally broke the silence. You cut him off preemptively, scared of what he may have been about to say.

“She’s just fine,” he answered, apparently relieved to hear you speak. “So’s her father, the bastard.”

“It was about her father?”

“Yeah, no good asshole spending money he don’t even have.” The venom in Arthur’s voice made your skin crawl. It was easy to forget, in more tender moments, that he was an outlaw. The fire in his eyes lasted less than a second, however, rapidly replaced by the strange sadness from before. “He, uh… He tried to sell her mother’s brooch. For his.. Hell, I don’ even know, whatever he keeps spending money on. Same shit it’s always been.”

You were frozen, watching him carefully. He didn’t look up. Thinking there was more, you allowed the silence to continue, but the air was still heavy and you needed the weight off your chest.

“Was that all?” you finally asked. Your voice came out soft and fragile. You had your answer when Arthur turned his head upwards, the slightest guilty smile tugging on the corner of his mouth, and the churning feeling returned to your stomach. “Well, did you-- Did you kiss her?”

Arthur let out a bark of laughter. Suddenly, you felt very silly for even asking.

“Darlin’, no,” he said. With a whoosh of air, your shoulders relaxed, and you even felt a smile approaching your own face. “I didn’t kiss her. But I’d be lyin’ if I said it hadn’t crossed my mind.” The tightness returned as quickly as it had left. Anger bubbled upwards, rushing hot to your head, and you opened your mouth to accuse him, but the look in his eyes registered: it was pain. Pain?

“Arthur,” you whispered, “what happened? Please tell me.”

Making eye contact once again, the cowboy shifted on the bed and gestured for you to sit beside him, this time closer to a command than suggestion. Hesitantly, you joined him. Your hands were placed gingerly in your lap. He returned to his previous position, elbows on his knees, and he barely looked to you as he recounted everything that happened. He started with Mary shouting to him from the balcony, to their almost argument about the what-ifs of their past, through pursuing her father and chasing down the brooch. They had gone to the theater together. A date? And, finally…

“Mary… Mary asked me to run away with her.”

The range of emotions running through your head was making you dizzy. Too much to process, too much to consider, so much anger at her, anxiety towards Arthur’s thoughts. You stared hard at your fingers, picking absentmindedly at a loose thread on your clothes. You wondered at what the conversation was like, what Arthur had said, what his expression had betrayed. Did Mary mean it? Was she truly still thinking about him all these years later? Would she ever stop trying to take him away?

“Say somethin’.” His gaze turned to you, the worry clear in his voice. His piercing blue eyes were burning into the side of your head. Without enough time to compose a kinder phrasing, you spluttered out the first thought you had.

“So why didn’t you?”

“Why--?” Arthur chuckled, a low rumble deep in his chest. Relief, you realized, was the cause for his sudden change of tone. “Mary has played me for a fool more times than I can count. We was just kids, then. We’re… Well, we’re grown now, things have changed. Besides, I love you too much to disappear like that.”

Every other thought left your mind. I love you. I love you. I love you… He had never said those words to you. They were spoken every day through action, sure, but out loud… They were almost taboo. Tears filled your eyes as you looked up into his face. His eyes widened in alarm.

“You love me?” you managed to say, your voice strained by the tightening of your throat.

“I have, for a while,” he said. “I-I’m sorry, I jus’ didn’t know how to say it. I didn’t mean for it to come out like that, but it’s the truth. I do love you, darlin’. I ain’t goin’ nowhere.”

Relief in the purest form of ecstasy washed over you. You threw your arms around Arthur’s neck, pulling him in for a tight hug. He stiffened for a moment before returning the embrace. His warmth filled you up and washed out every bad feeling and thought you had that day.

“I love you, too,” you said softly, burying your face in his neck. He still carried the smells of Saint Denis with him, but you didn’t care. He didn’t smell like Mary Linton, and he never would. He was yours.

#arthur morgan x reader #arthur morgan #rdr2 reader insert #arthur morgan reader insert #gender neutral reader #angel writes

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javocjovian · 5 years

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Ride ‘Em Cowboy, SPN Bingo

Title: Ride ‘Em Cowboy Link: Square Filled: Sexuality Crisis Ship: Destiel Rating: E Warnings: Homophobic Upbringing/ Repression Problems Tags: Repressed Sexuality, Sex Problems, Healing Sex, Grace Sex, Sam the extremely reluctant relationship counselor, Clothing Kink, Dean has a Cowboy Fetish, Roleplay, Love n Fluff, Humor, First Time Confessions, no seriously there’s Cowboy Cas, Dean’s still a power bottom Summary: Dean has never come when Castiel tops him. Castiel is determined to get to the bottom of it :) with Sam’s totally enthusiastic help, of course. Word Count: 2802

Created for @spnkinkbingo Beta-ed by @felix-the-white-wolf

Quote:

Castiel almost smiled. He had never seen Dean’s eyes so wide. He was utterly dumbfounded. When it became apparent that Dean was too tongue-tied to speak, Castiel spared him and pulled him into a smooth kiss. Castiel had taken a shot of whiskey (or six) for his nerves, and the flavor made Dean swoon. Castiel got a rush of confidence and opened the kiss. Then in his deepest, darkest voice, he rumbled against Dean’s lips, “What do you say we break in the this motel room?”

Ride ‘Em Cowboy

Sam was enjoying a quiet morning alone in the Men of Letters’ library. He had a book open at the table and was sipping a fresh cup of coffee when he heard the familiar whoosh of air that signaled Castiel.

“Morning, Cas.”

“Good morning, Sam.” Castiel came in and looked around, “Where is Dean?”

Sam shrugged, “No clue. Probably out getting breakfast burgers.”

Castiel deflated on the spot.

Sam had noticed Castiel acting weird lately. He suspected something was going on between him and Dean, besides all the sex. They’d been not so subtly hooking up for a while, so much so that Sam had become very good at going temporarily blind and deaf. He was so good, in fact, that it took him a few minutes to realize Castiel was still standing there, watching Sam work. Staring at him.

Sam cleared his throat, “You know you’re still here, right?”

His voice made Castiel jump. He glanced around, then slid into a chair and sighed hopelessly.“Sam. Can I ask you a question?”

“You just– yes,” Sam sighed, closing his book, “As long as it’s not about Dean.”

Castiel nodded solemnly, “It’s about Dean.”

Sam made a small noise in the back of his throat, “I, uh... I’m not sure I’m the best person to help you with that. I mean, I am his brother.” He gave him an apologetic smile.

“Exactly. You know him better than anyone,” Castiel pleaded. He had this look on his face that made Sam shift awkwardly in his seat. He was like a heartbroken puppy.

Finally Sam relented. “Alright... What’s up?”

“Thank you, Sam.” Castiel sighed in relief.

“Sure. Just don’t ask me about sex, okay?”

“Okay,” Castiel agreed, then he took a deep breath. “When Dean I have intercourse...”

Sam rubbed the bridge of his nose.

“Sometimes I can’t… I mean, it can be difficult...” He made some strange hand gestures then said, “...sometimes I can’t bring Dean to climax.”

“Uh! Yeah, okay. No.” Sam rose a hand, but Castiel carried on innocently.

“Usually Dean is the one penetrating, but recently I expressed interest in penetrating him.”

“Oh my god–”

“It’s just… Dean is so, so good at intercourse...”

“Cas!”

“...yes?”

Sam had turned a spectacular shade of pink, “Just…” he took a steadying breath, “it’s called sex, okay? And...”

“Right. Dean is very good at sex,” Castiel clarified, “I just wanted to make sure I was satisfying him in every way possible. But whenever I try having sex with him, I just can’t make him orgasm.”

Sam was stony faced.

“I don’t know what to do. I’m not as experienced as he is and I… I’m afraid I’m doing something wrong. You’re his brother – do you know if there’s any way I can...” he started making that hand gesture again and Sam cut him off abruptly.

“Ah! Ha...No. Sorry, Cas, but I just...” Sam was struggling to find the words. He cleared his throat twice then said, “I try to stay out of my brother’s love life, so I really don’t know what to tell you.”

Castiel finally stopped talking. He sunk into the chair and stared at his fingers in defeat.

Sam sighed. He felt like he’d just had his brain washed with bleach, but a part of him really wanted to help Cas, and by extension Dean. He took a calculating breath and tried to think of a solution that didn’t involve visualizing his brother with an angel dick up his… no. Just no.

“You know...” Sam sighed, “maybe...”

Castiel looked up hopefully.

“It might not be your fault, Cas.”

Castiel looked at him curiously. Sam knew there was no turning back now.

“Okay, look.” He shifted to face him, “When we were growing up, our dad was kind of… weird… about dating. We were hunters, you know? It wasn’t good to get attached. But still...” Sam realized he was approaching a subject Dean probably wouldn’t want him discussing with anyone, but the more he thought about it the more relevant it seemed, “Don’t tell Dean I told you about this.” He warned. When Castiel nodded, he continued, “When we were kids Dean was always hitting on everybody. Girls and boys. Well, one day I bought a friend over. I think I was nine. He was just a friend, but dad got suspicious of us and...”

Castiel was listening raptly. He thought he sensed discomfort in Sam, so he waited it out with him. Sam continued quickly enough.

“Well, let’s just say John’s generation wasn’t so keen on guys dating guys.”

“You mean, homosexuality? Yes, I’ve read about that.”

“Yeah.” Sam cleared his throat. He smiled a little at the thought of Castiel researching Dean like a case, “Anyway. Dad told me off in front of Dean. He obviously didn’t know Dean had been into guys since I could walk. I think he said something like, ‘I have enough to worry about with you boys being hunters. I don’t need you becoming fags’.” Sam sighed, “And that was that. I never brought home guys, and Dean… well, I never saw Dean with a guy again. Until you, of course.”

Castiel was silent. He considered this deeply, “Are you saying Dean is… repressed?”

Sam shrugged, “Yeah, maybe. I mean, it makes sense.”

Castiel frowned.

“Look, just make Dean feel safe and I’m sure he’ll come around.”

“I always carry protection.” Castiel gestured to the angel blade in his coat.

“No,” Sam bit back a smile, “I mean, safe in your relationship. Tell him how much you care about him, and then… well...” Sam looked awkward again, “you know.”

“Then I penetrate him.”

Sam sighed into his palm.

“Sorry. Have sex with him.”

Sam closed his eyes and mustered a rigid, “Yeah. Now can we please talk about something else?”

Castiel smiled in relief, “Yes. Of course. Thank you, Sam.” he looked around for something else to discuss while Sam reopened his book. He noticed the cover said “Occult Lore”, so Castiel said, “Is Dean into roleplay?”

Sam stared at him.

Despite their conversation, nothing seemed to have changed between Dean and Castiel. In an effort not to repeat their conversation ever again, Sam decided to give Castiel a little more direct help.

After a successful vengeful spirit hunt in Northern Texas, Sam suggested they stay an extra night to enjoy the Wild West town. Dean was surprised, but agreed instantly. It had been a while since the three of them had some fun away from the bunker. Plus, Dean would never turn down eating steak under a buffalo head.

Except, Sam then announced he was going to a bar. Alone. Dean eyed him suspiciously. He was used to Sam giving him and Castiel a wide berth, but he didn’t see any reason for it at the moment. Dean hadn’t gotten any action in days. But Dean let him go anyway. A few seconds later he was pounding on the bathroom door.

“C’mon Cas, let’s get dinner. I’m starving. Sam’s out playing with dice or whatever nerds do instead of getting laid...” The door opened and Dean’s voice faltered.

Castiel walked out dressed head to toe in leather and denim. He had an open leather vest exposing his broad chest and a loose Kentucky bowtie dangling off his collarbone. The bulge in his form fitting jeans was framed sinfully by leather chaps. His look was completed by tall leather boots, a large belt, and a cowboy hat shadowing his face. He had on a look that could only be described as Kilmer-esq.

“Howdy, pardner.”

Dean’s mouth went dry. It felt like his center of mass had shifted to his crotch, causing him to sway a little, “H...howdy.”

Dean gaped at him, then finally mustered three words: “Oh… hell yeah.” He grabbed Castiel and kissed him eagerly.

Castiel was elated. He helped Dean strip all the way to the bed, practically hearing a Spanish guitar and whip cracking in his head. Then Castiel pushed him buck-naked onto the mattress. Dean grinned. Castiel threw his hat on Dean’s chest and Dean put it on cheekily while he watched him get out of his jeans. He used a bit of grace and managed to keep the chaps still on, shamelessly showing off the slope of his hips and his fully erect cock.

Dean’s breath left him at once, “...fuck.”

Castiel smiled slight and kneeled on the bed. Dean had never been so turned on. Castiel was dressed only his vest, tie, and chaps as he slid over Dean. Despite his enthusiastic consent, he was shaking a little. Castiel kissed him soothingly, mutterings words of encouragement in his false accent. Dean had only ever ridden him before, so Castiel was surprised when Dean lay back and let him between his legs.

While they made out on the bed, Castiel used a little grace to lube and stretch Dean. He could tell by how handsy Dean was getting that he was more than okay with it. Finally, Castiel broke away from the kiss to line himself up. Once he was pressed against Dean’s wet entrance, he swatted Dean’s hand away from his own erection, earning a cocky little smirk from Dean, and held him like a saddle horn as he slowly pressed in.

Dean was used to this part, but it was still jarring. Castiel’s thick cock parted him with ease, although it still felt tight. Castiel groaned and Dean grunted, arching up for him to find the right angle. It felt good, but Dean couldn’t help but tense. Castiel fondled Dean’s cock to make him relax, allowing him to slide in the rest of the way.

Dean looked winded, so Castiel gave him a moment. He knew Dean didn’t like being coddled though, so it didn’t last long. Castiel began moving his hips and Dean groaned in approval.

Castiel ravaged him into the mattress, while Dean panted in pleasure. His hands were balled up in the headboard and his hat had fallen behind his head. It’s strings bounced on Dean’s glistening chest with every thrust.

Things were going better than usual. Dean was loose and groaning freely. Castiel would say things like “Giddyup, cowboy”, making Dean smirk and fuck back. His expression screwed up whenever Castiel found his sweet spot. Castiel could tell Dean felt good, but it wasn’t enough. Something was still off. Dean’s lips were parted and his head was tipped back like he was concentrating hard. Much too hard.

Castiel slowed down a little, making Dean look up. His green eyes were hazy with lust.

“Dean...” Castiel mumbled between thrusts, “You know I care about you, right?”

It took a few seconds for the words to navigate Dean’s pleasure-soaked brain. “Yeah, Cas.” he nodded distantly. He looked like he just wanted Castiel to keep going, but Castiel didn’t relent.

He let go of Dean’s cock and smoothed his hands up Dean’s body, nestling under his jaw and ears. Dean’s eyes fluttered closed in surprise. Castiel was amazed such a gentle touch could affect him so strongly.

“Dean, I want you to feel good.”

Dean half laughed, “I figured that out already.” He shifted his hips a little.

“No...” Castiel leaned down and kissed him gently. He was nearly laying on him, their bodies rolling together with each thrust. Dean trembled. “I mean, you should know that I truly, deeply, care about you. More than anyone.”

Dean stared up at him, winded, “That’s called love, Cas.”

Castiel nodded in understanding, “Then I love you.”

Dean stopped moving and just stared at him. A small smile parted his lips, “Rookie move, Cas. Saying I love you during sex,” he joked. But when Castiel’s expression didn’t change, Dean’s did. “You don’t mean that...”

“I do.” Castiel assured him. For a moment he feared he’d said something wrong. But then Dean’s expression softened.

“I love you, too,” he breathed.

Castiel smiled in relief, then took him into another kiss. Dean was still for a moment, but then he folded his arms around Castiel and kissed him back. Castiel resumed fucking him at once.

This time, Dean melted. He gasped out of the kiss and moaned as Castiel rocked his body so perfectly. Castiel had never heard anything so beautiful. He held him close, nearly brushing their noses together, just listening to Dean’s voice as he panted out his pleasure. When Dean started cursing, he knew he’d gotten the angle right. Within seconds, Dean was completely unraveled, taking everything Castiel had and wanting more. He was moaning out encouragements and undulating against the mattress.

“Dean… oh, Dean,” Castiel panted, “that’s it.” Dean had once told him he liked the sound of his voice, so Castiel tried something new, “Dean… I love you so much.”

Dean moaned, so Castiel kept talking to him. He whispered sweet nothings into his ear and made love to him, and Dean began to tense up in to time.

“Cas…!”

Castiel knew he was about to come, but in the next second, Dean was moving. For a wild moment Castiel thought he had changed his mind and was getting up, but instead he pushed Castiel onto his back and threw a leg over his leather chaps. Breathless with arousal, Castiel watched as Dean sank onto his cock and rode him like a bull.

They were both groaning in seconds. Dean looked like a god rolling his hips on Castiel. Inspired, Castiel fumbled for the hat and put it on Dean with a small smile. Dean returned the smile with his eyes then tossed his head back in absolute pleasure.

Castiel’s hands swept up Dean’s body, feeling his muscles shivering with pleasure, “Yeah, Dean. Yeah...”

Dean’s thighs were burning, but it just made his ecstasy spin faster. He was sweating and swallowing air, while Castiel told him he loved him over and over again. With a sudden jolt, Dean’s body seized up and he came on Castiel’s chest and neck with a soundless groan. His mouth flew open and his eyes slammed shut. Castiel could see the shock waves ripple through him like waves in a pond. He watched, dumbfounded, as Dean’s orgasm wrecked his body. Dean’s pace had changed. He rode Castiel nice and slow, working him like a stud, and Castiel grabbed his hips and came instantly, groaning in ecstasy.

Dean either didn’t care, or enjoyed being filled with Castiel’s angelic seed. He didn’t say a word until he collapsed on Castiel, their bodies completely spent and ringing with bliss.

“Oh my god...” Dean breathed. He’d never had an orgasm like it. He didn’t even think Castiel had touched his cock.

Castiel pulled him close, panting softly in his ear, “Call me Cas.” he put the accent back on.

Dean grinned.

Dean wasn’t always in the mood to cuddle, but that night there wasn’t an inch of space between the two of them. They lay together in the sweat and mess of their bliss, exhausted and carefree. Eventually Castiel cleaned them up with grace and rolled over to lay on Dean.

“How was that?” he asked.

Dean covered his eyes with his arm, but he couldn’t hide his grin, “Awesome, Cas. That was… awesome.”

Castiel beamed with pride, “We can do that whenever you like.”

“You’ll keep the clothes?” Dean eyed him.

Castiel nodded, “You can keep the hat.”

Dean smirked and checked to see if it was still on, “Ride ‘em cowboy.”

Castiel chuckled.

The peaceful silence went on a little too long, until Dean finally asked, “So, you really meant all that, huh?”

Castiel got up on his elbows to look at Dean, “Are you asking if I said I love you just so you would let me p… have sex with you?”

Dean looked at him hesitantly. Castiel’s pale, blue eyes were piercing in the dim light, “Yeah. I am.”

Castiel sighed and began playing with Dean’s fingers, “No, I didn’t. I meant it.” He said simply, weaving their fingers together.

“Oh.”

“Did you mean it?”

Dean looked at him for a moment, “Yeah. I did.”

“Good.” Castiel leaned forward and kissed him gently.

Dean smiled and kissed him back.

“I love you, Dean.”

“I love you, too.”

Castiel needed to send Sam a gift basket. Dean just so happened to be thinking the same thing.

#spnkinkbingo #supernatural #Destiel #fanfiction #fanfic #My writing #archive of our own #sarasaurusrex #dean winchester #castiel #deanwinchester

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teknikali-mo · 6 years

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The Concepts of One: A Photo Essay on the Importance of Sanctuary, Self-Fulfillment, and Solitude

Figure 1 "Shirley Maclaine" (1962) by Philipe Halsman

“They say humans are social animals, they can’t live alone…but you can live pretty well by yourself.”

– Faye Valentine, Cowboy Bebop (1998)

True solitude, like many aspects of life, is hard to achieve and appreciate. As a child, I spent more time lost in a world I created in my own head without much help from external resources.

As an adult, I have discovered that it is immeasurably hard to explain a desire for solitude to peers and colleagues without the threat of judgment or argument. We are taught to value time spent in the company of family and friends, to network in an effort to grow and develop, to socialize with strangers when placed in new environments. Oftentimes we seek validation through the acceptance of others and we strive to better ourselves at the expense of our own values and morals. Yet how often are we asked to stop looking for validation from these external resources, and examine what we feel is missing in ourselves? I have witnessed people commit themselves too terribly abusive relationships in the effort to keep their fear of loneliness at bay. I have heard people recount achievement after achievement in an effort to gain the good impression of some stranger whose impression is worthless. I have watched families grow and prosper on the façade of happiness at the expense of true happiness. Caused by the overwhelming fear of existing alone, this fear becomes so threatening that they would rather live a lie.

I will not be like them.

From a very early age, I knew that to be successful in life, I would need to emulate one person: my mother. She ingrained in me a powerful desire to stop at nothing to achieve my goals and live my life according to my own standards, even if that meant going against hers. Though she tried her best to set my life on the path of least resistance, I did not stand for any of it. Since reaching adulthood, I have strived to live a life of independence free from the shackles of her, or anyone else’s, emotional or fiscal assistance.

A wise man once said, “Your relationship with yourself sets the tone for every other relationship you have.” I have spent more than one quiet night pondering the truth of that statement and accepting the need to better myself before offering me to someone else to have and to hold unconditionally. To accomplish this monumental task, I know without a doubt that I must spend a sufficient amount of time with myself to understand my needs, wants and desires. I live with a truth so persistent that it makes its home at the very core of my essence. So persistent is this truth that it has been my constant shadow, sometimes overcast by the light and forgotten until the light, as light generally does, fades away.

Eventually, I stopped running and just accepted the need to unplug, unwind, and sit in the company of myself for the sake of self-improvement. I crave days where I can turn off communication with the outside world and revel in the glory of my own space and thoughts without the threat of outside influence. I do not equate true solitude to the ever-dreaded loneliness or emptiness as many others do, but more so acknowledge its needed presence to re-charge and re-focus on the aspects of life which I value exponentially. I find great achievement in my ability to return home at the end of a long shift interacting with stroke and traumatic brain injury survivors on their road to recovery. I look forward to the quiet hours of the night when my pets are curled around my lap and the glow of screens illuminates an imaginary world so real to me that I proceed to get lost in its colorful embrace for the remainder of the evening.

My identity has been shaped by the ever-present truth to prove to myself that I have the capability to maintain true independence in more ways than one. The need to conquer this challenge has caused the demise of more than one loving relationship; however, the need to unlock a hidden sanctuary has proven more powerful than any other false truth that I have ever created. I can now say without consequence that I have fully accepted this truth and have taken the first steps towards the true happiness of discovering what type of person I truly wish to be.

Like most people, my identity has been shaped partially by the experiences accumulated while in a committed relationship. Though at the time, I felt the need to be with my partners for one reason or another, I eventually fell back to the need to get away and be alone for the sole purpose of refilling my internal battery. I later discovered that, though cherished, these relationships did not provide the type of sustenance which my soul craved. I have accepted the truth that I will never defeat the crippling anxiety which manifests when even my most cherished friends and family linger in my sanctuary until I can prove that I can support myself without external validation. Not until I successfully perfect the art of enjoying my own company will I truly find self-fulfillment.

In embracing my sanctuary, self-fulfillment, and solidarity I have rediscovered the euphoria of getting lost in my own head. I live a colorful life filled with self-love and acceptance. I have a clear view of true happiness on the horizon and even though I honestly may not know exactly where I am going, I am comfortable knowing that I have finally stopped running away from myself. I’m no longer digging deep holes searching for an invisible connection to the outside world. I do not measure my success against those of my peers because I fully accept that theirs are not my own. I spent a veritable amount of time yelling out to anyone who would listen, lifting my head and screaming out in a desperate attempt at getting others to understand the true feelings I had inside of me and all I really had to do was shut up and listen to myself to unlock what was there all along.

Post Essay Discussion Question

Even though you were writing about yourself and your own subjectivity, what can you “learn” about yourself that you may not have known before when considering the pictures you took, the CAM piece you chose, and about what you wrote? (this question is asking you to think about the vague, critical thing we’ve been discussing all semester, which is how genre is multidirectional; that is, we not only create it, but it also creates “us”).

Considering the topic of my essay is centered on accepting the terms of solitude and the rewards self-discovery has to offer, I believe I learned a lot about myself. This assignment created a platform to verbalize thoughts and desires I have recently struggled to accept. When I first saw the photograph of Shirley Maclaine lying comfortably on the floor watching television by a fire as she relaxes in the company of just her dog, I instantly thought, “That’s what I want!” In class, I shared my reasoning for selecting this picture and your response only fueled my desire to write about this topic. By responding you thought she looked “lonely and kind of sad.” You created in me a desire to explain to everyone how I feel about solidarity, and hopefully, in the process of doing just that, I accidentally discovered some critical truths about myself. This experience served as an excellent example of how genre is not only multidirectional in that the photograph taken by someone else to serve possibly some other purpose, elicited such an intense reaction out of myself thus opening an entirely new spectrum of perspective as a result. I attempted to emulate that feeling I initially felt when I first saw the original image when taking my own pictures by recapturing that sense of peace and relaxation found in the comfort of solidarity. In the spirit of solidarity, I took each picture in my own space by myself using my personal environment to capture my emotions as I relaxed in the comfort of my own space doing exactly what I wanted to do. Doing all of this taught me to spend more time listening to myself and hopefully created a piece that, when shared, will help others realize the same for themselves.

#photo essay #solitude #solidarity #fulfillment #essay #writing #english #expository #narrative #story

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BLOG TOUR - Southern Fried

DISCLAIMER: This content has been provided to THE PULP AND MYSTERY SHELF by Great Escapes Virtual Book Tours. No compensation was received. This information required by the Federal Trade Commission.

Southern Fried by Tonya Kappes

With a fantastic cast of characters and a story filled with humor and murder you won’t be able to put it down. ~Shelley’s Book Case

Tonya Kappes had me laughing from the opening pages of Southern Fried… ~fundinmental

I love these books because the whodunit isn’t all that obvious. Just when I think I’ve figured it out, a new wrench is thrown into the mix and I’m back to square one. ~Reading Is My SuperPower

Full of Tonya’s sass and spirit, this series keeps up a strong pace and keeps Sheriff Kenni on her toes. ~Laura’s Interests

This is an engaging story full of misdirection and undercurrents… ~ Jemima Pett, Author

It was a good solid mystery, the author kept me guessing and I like that. ~Books, Movies, Reviews. Oh my!

This book was a great cozy mystery that was set in a small town… I loved all the Southern Sayings. ~Because I said so — and other adventures in Parenting

In a nut shell, if you like mysteries with a dash or two of southern charm and humor, you’ll enjoy this one. ~FUONLYKNEW Laura’s Ramblins and Reviews

If there is one thing you count on in a book from Tonya Kappes, it’s a laugh out loud until you cry story filled with southern characters that are as eclectic as they come. SOUTHERN FRIED is written proof of that. ~Lisa Ks Book Reviews

Southern Fried (A Kenni Lowry Mystery) Cozy Mystery 2nd in Series Henery Press (April 4, 2017) Paperback: 252 pages ISBN-13: 978-1635111873 Kindle ASIN: B01N212SJ8

Synopsis

In the South, it’s better when the food is fried and the secrets kept buried…

After the dead body of a beloved Cottonwood resident is found tangled up in an electric fence, Sheriff Kenni Lowry has a hunch that somethin’ ain’t right. Her investigation heats up with a fierce cook-off competition, a euchre game where the intel is sweeter than the brownies, and a decades old family recipe that may just be the proof in the pudding.

The icing on the cake: Kenni is fighting an attraction to her recently sworn-in deputy sheriff, and election season is hot on her tail. When the killer comes after who she holds most dear, even her poppa’s ghostly guidance might not be enough to keep her and her own out of the frying pan.

Guest Post from the Author

FOOD FOR THOUGHT – Small Southern Diners

Small Southern Diners

There is just something about going to a diner in a small town. . .

Kenni Lowry is the small town sheriff in Fixin’ To Die. There is a fair amount of time spent in the sheriff’s office, only the office isn’t in a building, it’s in the back of Cowboy’s Catfish diner. Some of y’all might scratch your head because that seems so strange. . .but not to me!

I grew up in a small rural Kentucky town. It’s one of those thing when someone asks me where I’m from, I’m going to say the county name instead of the city. That’s just the way a small town rolls. That is just ONE of the things that I loved about growing up in a small town in the south.

In most small towns there is that one diner, the one greasy spoon that no matter what time of day you go, there is a line and the counter stools are filled with the same local, little old men in their John Deere hats with a cup of coffee in their hand.

When you go to open the door, you have to give the bottom corner a little tap with the toe of your shoe because it gets a little stuck every once in a while and the above the door dings as soon as you fully open it, our hearts swell with joy. Then our stomach rumbles as the smell of homemade biscuits, sausage gravy, and bacon grease swirl and curl around our nose with strong coffee chasing shortly after. Our eyes scan the top of the full diner just so we can find a couple available seats. After we find that seat, our usual waitress, the only waitress, comes over and fills the foggy plastic glass with the chip in the rim with water and a pot of coffee dangling from her hand. You don’t need a menu. You know what they serve at your diner as if it were tattooed on your brain.

And just thinking about that fried egg has your mouth watering. . .

Awe. . .wasn’t that a great step back into a wonderful memory? What about your memories? Do at least half of them revolve around food?

(Check out tonyakappes.com for recipes!)

Food is such a wonderful way to gather people. It is magical really. Food creates community, builds relationships, and fills our souls. Doesn’t this sound exactly how a novel should feed your mind?

I think so too! In every single novel, mostly all in series, I’ve written (thirty-six published), I make the diner and settings of my small, southern towns just as much a character as my heroine and hero. It’s a comfort to the reader to open a novel in a series and know what it feels like to flip the first page and step back into the diner they have grown to love because of all the warm and fuzzy they get from visiting.

Fixin’ To Die is the first book in the Kenni Lowry Mystery Series.

“A Southern-fried mystery with a twist that’ll leave you positively breathless.” – Susan M. Boyer, USA Today Bestselling Author of Lowcountry Book Club

Kenni Lowry likes to think the zero crime rate in Cottonwood, Kentucky is due to her being sheriff, but she quickly discovers the ghost of her grandfather, the town’s previous sheriff, has been scaring off any would-be criminals since she was elected. When the town’s most beloved doctor is found murdered on the very same day as a jewelry store robbery, and a mysterious symbol ties the crime scenes together, Kenni must satisfy her hankerin’ for justice by nabbing the culprits.

With the help of her poppa, a lone deputy, and an annoyingly cute, too-big-for-his-britches State Reserve officer, Kenni must solve both cases and prove to the whole town, and herself, that she’s worth her salt before time runs out.

“This story offers up a small touch of paranormal activity that makes for a fun read…A definite “5-star,” this is a great mystery that doesn’t give up the culprit until the last few pages.” – Suspense Magazine

“Packed with clever plot twists, entertaining characters, and plenty of red herrings! Fixin’ To Die is a rollicking, delightful, down-home mystery.” – Ann Charles, USA Today Bestselling Author of the Deadwood Mystery Series

“Kappes captures the charm and quirky characters of small-town Kentucky in her new mystery…a charming, funny story with exaggerated characters. The dialect-filled quirky sayings and comments bring those characters to life. Best of all, for a mystery reader, the culprit was an unlikely suspect, but the solution made sense.” – Lesa’s Book Critiques

“Southern and side-splitting funny! Fixin’ To Die has captivating characters, nosy neighbors, and is served up with a ghost and a side of murder.” – Duffy Brown, Author of the Consignment Shop Mysteries

“This first book in a new series promises to be fun for both cozy mystery buffs and ghost aficionados.” – For The Love of Books

“The who and why may surprise you, but you’ll probably laugh your way through the book. If you’ve never read a Tonya Kappes book, this is a perfect starting place. I highly recommend.” – Book Review Crew

Southern Fried is the second book in the Kenni Lowry Mystery Series.

“Fabulous fun and fantastic fried food! Kappes nails small town mystery with another must-read hit. (Also, I want to live in Cottonwood, KY.) Don’t miss this one!” – Darynda Jones, New York Times Bestselling Author of the Charley Davidson Series

In the South, it’s better when the food is fried and the secrets kept buried…After the dead body of a beloved Cottonwood resident is found tangled up in an electric fence, Sheriff Kenni Lowry has a hunch that somethin’ ain’t right. Her investigation heats up with a fierce cook-off competition, a euchre game where the intel is sweeter than the brownies, and a decades old family recipe that may just be the proof in the pudding.

You can go on a real virtual tour of Cottonwood and get to know all the fun characters along with the cozy community by visiting the new Kenni Lowry Mystery Series website by clicking here!

I LOVE to connect with my readers!! Please send me your questions to [email protected] where I answer reader’s questions via video! It’s so fun!! Also be sure to connect with me on my FREE Facebook page in our Cozy Krew Community.

Are you signed up for my newsletter? Don’t miss a thing or release day fun that’s ONLY on the newsletter.

Enjoy your visit in Cottonwood!

Bless your heart!

Tonya

About the Author

For years, USA Today bestselling author Tonya Kappes has been self-publishing her numerous mystery and romance titles with unprecedented success. She is famous not only for her hilarious plotlines and quirky characters, but her tremendous marketing efforts that have earned her thousands of followers and a devoted street team of fans. Be sure to check out Tonya’s website for upcoming events and news and to sign up for her newsletter! Tonyakappes.com

Kenni Lowry Mystery Series

Fixin’ To Die

Southern Fried

Also by Tonya Kappes

Olivia Davis Paranormal Mystery Series

SPLITSVILLE.COM

COLOR ME LOVE (novella)

COLOR ME A CRIME

Magical Cures Mystery Series

A CHARMING CRIME

A CHARMING CURE

A CHARMING POTION (novella)

A CHARMING WISH

A CHARMING SPELL

A CHARMING MAGIC

A CHARMING SECRET

A CHARMING CHRISTMAS (novella)

A CHARMING FATALITY

A CHARMING DEATH

A CHARMING GHOST

Grandberry Falls Series

THE LADYBUG JINX

HAPPY NEW LIFE

A SUPERSTITIOUS CHRISTMAS (novella)

NEVER TELL YOUR DREAMS

A Laurel London Mystery Series

CHECKERED CRIME

CHECKERED PAST

CHECKERED THIEF

A Divorced Diva Beading Mystery Series

A BREAD OF DOUBT SHORT STORY

STRUNG OUT TO DIE

CRIMPED TO DEATH

Bluegrass Romance Series

GROOMING MR. RIGHT

TAMING MR. RIGHT

Women’s Fiction

CARPE BREAD ’EM

Young Adult

TAG YOU’RE IT

A Ghostly Southern Mystery Series

A GHOSTLY UNDERTAKING

A GHOSTLY GRAVE

A GHOSTLY DEMISE

A GHOSTLY MURDER

A GHOSTLY REUNION

A GHOSTLY MORTALITY

Enjoy a free ebook from Tonya when you sign up for her newsletter by clicking here.

Visit Tonya:

Facebook at Author Tonya Kappes

Kappes Krew Street Team

Kappes Krew Recipe Exchange

Webpage

E-mail

Recipe Submission Email

Goodreads

Twitter

Purchase Links

Amazon B&N

Tour Participants

April 4 – The Book Diva’s Reads – GUEST POST, GIVEAWAY

April 4 – Brooke Blogs – CHARACTER GUEST POST, GIVEAWAY

April 5 – Celticlady’s Reviews – SPOTLIGHT, GIVEAWAY

April 5 – Shelley’s Book Case – REVIEW, CHARACTER GUEST POST

April 6 – fundinmental – REVIEW

April 6 – Books,Dreams,Life – SPOTLIGHT

April 7 – Reading Is My SuperPower– REVIEW

April 7 – Island Confidential – CHARACTER INTERVIEW. GIVEAWAY

April 8 – Laura’s Interests – REVIEW, GIVEAWAY

April 8 – The Editing Pen – INTERVIEW, GIVEAWAY

April 9 – Jemima Pett, Author – REVIEW, INTERVIEW, GIVEAWAY

April 10 – Rainy Day Reviews – REVIEW, GIVEAWAY

April 10 – 3 Partners in Shopping, Nana, Mommy, & Sissy,Too! – SPOTLIGHT, GIVEAWAY

April 11 – Books, Movies, Reviews. Oh my! – REVIEW

April 11 – deal sharing aunt – INTERVIEW, GIVEAWAY

April 12 – Because I said So, and other adventures in parenting – REVIEW, GIVEAWAY

April 12 – Author Annette Drake’s blog – INTERVIEW

April 13 – fuonlyknew – REVIEW, GIVEAWAY

April 13 – Lisa Ks Book Reviews – REVIEW, CHARACTER GUEST POST

April 14 – Blogger Nicole Reviews – SPOTLIGHT

April 14 – Community Bookstop – REVIEW, GIVEAWAY

April 15 – Texas Book-aholic – REVIEW

April 15 – Escape With Dollycas Into A Good Book – SPOTLIGHT, GIVEAWAY

April 16 – Cozy Up With Kathy – REVIEW, CHARACTER INTERVIEW

April 17 – Becky’s Bookcase – REVIEW

April 17 – The Pulp and Mystery Shelf – GUEST POST

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BLOG TOUR – Southern Fried was originally published on the Wordpress version of The Pulp and Mystery Shelf

#shannon muir #pulp and mystery shelf

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