#charles chose to hold onto the kindness he was shown

[panaceatthedisco]

Charles was actually so right we he told the Night Nurse that she didn't know anything about them.

She tries to prove him wrong by showing him that she knows his past, and more specifically, his trauma. She tries using that move on Kashi too. But the thing is, people are so much more than their pain, but as someone whose work is solely with dead children who were unable to pass on, I doubt she understands that.

The Night Nurse only begins to actually know who the boys are as people and what motivates them when she looks into Charles' mind the second time, to see the beginning of his greatest joys. She starts tearing up Charles' memories of Edwin and I wouldn't be surprised if that was the first time she'd seen one of the kids she was charged to find happy.

[verai-marcel]

Do What I Dare (RDR2 Fanfic, Biker AU, Arthur x F!Reader, 18+)

Summary: You've been dating Arthur for about four months now, and if you hadn't seen that photo of his biker gang, you wouldn't have guessed that he was once an outlaw. He's so gentle, polite, and kind to you that you didn't believe he had a wild side. A picnic out in the hills proves you wrong. 

Author’s Notes: Many thanks to @reddeaddufus for this amazing idea! So timeline-wise, this is happening during that six months when Journalist!Reader is still living in her apartment but she and Charles are already together. Cosplay!Reader & Javier got together a couple of weeks before this. And of course, the title is an obscure lyric; try and guess the song!

Tags: outdoor sex, mild exhibitionism, rough sex, dirty talk, some name calling, medium honor Arthur 

Find the AO3 link here, sweetheart.

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Arthur had stopped by as he did every morning before opening, and after hearing that you were opening alone, immediately began helping you set up chairs and tables. He really was a great guy.

Usually Charles was here earlier than you, but this morning his lady friend was feeling ill, so he had texted you to ask if you could open up without him. You hoped everything was okay. At this point, you had met both Charles’ and Javier’s girlfriends and they were both nice people, though their personalities couldn’t be farther apart. One was bold and unafraid while the other was shy and had a bit of social anxiety. They were both fun to hang out with whenever the boys got together to talk about marketing.

While Arthur was handing you the mugs and glasses from the dishwasher so you could put them away, he spoke.

“You free on Sunday?”

“Yup! What’re you planning?” you asked.

“Well, the weather’s s’pposed to be nice, so I thought maybe we’d go on a bike ride up the ridgeway.”

“That sounds awesome! Should we make it a picnic?”

“Sure.” He paused before looking at you a bit shyly. “Can ya make some of those cucumber sandwiches?” he asked quietly.

“Of course,” you said happily.

“Thank you.”

You smiled. Arthur had never stopped being polite to you, even after dating him for the past four months. Together, the two of you finished getting everything ready just in time. 

“Lookin’ forward to Sunday,” Arthur said as he grabbed his jacket. He gave you a quick kiss on the cheek as you wrapped your arms around him for a quick hug before he left for work. Watching him go, you smiled as you opened the cafe to the public. 

***

The Ridgeway was a scenic road that went north and south through the state, with the most beautiful part being, in your humble opinion,  the section nearby that weaved past the lake and through some of the forest east of town. There were several viewpoints along the path for tourists to stop and gawk at the view, but the locals knew that the best part was going off the Ridgeway onto random roads to find secluded dead ends that then led to even better views, untainted by signs and trash.

You were clinging onto Arthur as he wove his way on his Indian Scout motorcycle. Remembering the first time he had shown you his bike, you smiled. At that time, you had been dating for a month and had never seen him drive anything; he had always met you somewhere or you came to his place. When he had asked if you wanted to go on a bike ride, you assumed he had meant a bicycle. Boy, were you wrong. When he had rolled up to your apartment on his matte black motorcycle and handed you a helmet, you had been shocked to your core. And also turned on as all hell; he had been wearing a leather jacket and dark blue jeans, motorcycle boots, and fingerless gloves.

It was the same outfit he was wearing now as the two of you rode up the road, the sound of the motor muffled by the helmet over your head. After a few more twists and turns along the Ridgeway, he finally turned onto an unmarked road that led to a small picnic area. It was originally made by a historical preservation society decades ago, but fell into disuse after a rock slide made the road unusable by car.

A motorcycle, however, could easily wind around the rocks and get past.

Through the trees and the debris the two of you went, until you reached the small clearing at the top of the hill. A small picnic bench with one forgotten trash can and two parking spots were here, along with a gorgeous view of the hills and valleys. You popped your helmet off and practically leapt off the bike, running to the picnic table and clambering on top of it like a kid. Surveying the scenery, you eventually pulled out your phone and took a panoramic photo.

“This is so cool, I didn’t even know about this place!” you squealed with delight.

Arthur chuckled. “Glad you like it, darlin’.”

Hopping down from the table, you took the picnic case from Arthur’s hands and started to help him set up. Tossing the picnic blanket over the table, the two of you laid out your feast: cucumber sandwiches, two beers, summer sausage, a bit of bison jerky, and some grapes.

The two of you ate and chatted, the comfortable air between you two allowing for the occasional pause, the silence filled with contentment. Soon your line of questioning started to veer towards his past, something that he rarely mentioned.

“So, is this the same bike you had in that photo on your wall?”

“Yup.”

After a few moments without him adding anything else, you tried to get some more out of him. “Wow. Would you ever trade it in?”

“Never.”

You tilted your head at him; he was only giving you one word answers and not elaborating. “Should I not ask about your past?”

Arthur sighed. “There were some good times, but in the end, things fell apart and we chose to get out. I still feel… guilty, I guess. We weren’t good people.”

You reached for his hand and held it with both of yours. “But you’re a good man on the inside,” you said quietly. “And you’re doing good now.”

He gave you a crooked grin. “I must be, if you’re stickin’ around.”

You laughed. “I don’t know, maybe I have a thing for bad boys.”

Arthur’s eyebrow raised. “Oh?”

“Yeah, maybe I secretly want a guy who’ll fuck me out in the open, get all raw and wild.” You waggled your eyebrows.

Laughing, Arthur stood up. “You’re crazy.”

“Crazy for you,” you said with a wink. You stood up as well and helped him clean up. Once everything was back in the picnic case, you took it from him and set it aside. Climbing across the table, you knelt before him and took his head between your hands. “Kiss me.”

Arthur smiled and pulled you off the table and into his lap, your legs straddling his as he tangled his fingers in your hair and pushed your head closer to him. He nibbled your lips lightly at first, delicately playing with you as his other hand reached under your shirt to caress the bare skin of your back. His kisses grew deeper as his touch became more insistent; the grip in your hair tightened as he pulled you closer to him, pressing you against his hard chest. 

He pulled away and gave you a naughty look before he took hold of the hem of your shirt. "Can I?" 

You obediently lifted your arms and let him pull the shirt over your head. He laid it down behind you before gently pushing you down on the table. Bending over to lay kisses along your collarbone, he pulled the cups of your bra down to expose your breasts to the cool air, your nipples hardening. Attracted to the sight, Arthur enveloped one in his mouth while he pinched and pulled gently on the other, making you moan and writhe underneath him. 

"Arthur," you sighed as he shifted, making sure both your nipples had equal attention from his talented tongue. Wrapping your legs around him, you pulled him closer to feel his cock straining in his jeans. 

He suddenly wrapped his arms around you and picked you up. "I got an idea, sweetheart."

Carrying you to his bike, he set you on your feet and turned you around. You understood what he wanted and felt a flush of heat as he started to undo the fly of your pants. He slowly slid them down your hips, just past the curve of your backside. 

"Bend over, darlin'," he crooned. You gladly did so, your tits hanging out over the side of his motorcycle seat. Sticking your ass out for him, you turned your head towards him and gave him a smirk.

“What would you do if I didn’t?” you taunted.

His dark smile made shivers go down your spine as anticipation and lust swirled into your body. Stepping forward, he grabbed your butt with both hands, his fingers digging into your flesh before slapping your ass.

“I’d teach you how to be a good girl,” he rumbled. He slapped the other cheek. “Make sure you learn how to listen.”

“Oh, yes, teach me Arthur,” you purred, wiggling your body. With one hand he pressed you down on the motorbike seat to keep you still as he undid his button fly. Out of the corner of your vision, you saw him standing behind you, pulling out his hard cock and stroking himself as he stepped closer. You could feel him nudging your slit, sliding it back and forth, coating himself in your wetness. 

“Goddamn sweetheart,” he murmured. “All this honey fer me?”

You moaned as he pressed forward, the head of his cock stretching you slowly. Grabbing your hips, he kept on entering you until he filled you to the hilt, letting out a soft, low moan of satisfaction. He leaned over and kissed the shell of your ear.

“Just think, someone might come out here and find you, bent over my bike, getting filled with my cock.”

Your pussy tightened around him as you felt a rush of adrenaline.

“Oh yeah, gettin’ excited by that, ain’tcha?”

“Fuck me Arthur,” you half-growled, trying to move your hips towards him.

He chuckled, his hold on you as strong as steel. “I’m in control here, darlin’.” His hips pulled back and snapped forward, his bike shifting ever so slightly from his movement. He reached for your hair, pulling your head back so your back arched beautifully for his pleasure. Moving slowly at first, he built up a steady rhythm, fucking you with just enough control to prevent toppling his bike with the strength of his thrusts.

“Yer a dirty girl, gettin’ so hot from being fucked in the open,” he crooned. 

You were surprised at how aroused you were from this. The risk of being caught like this shot adrenaline through your body, giving you an incredible high. The thought of someone catching you in such a compromising position while you were getting railed like a whore over the seat of a motorcycle by a real biker outlaw was sexy, like a porn fantasy come to life. Your tits were bouncing and your juices were dripping down your thighs as your cries of pleasure echoed in the forest. His hands wandered, grabbing your neck, gripping your hips and fondling your breasts. And through it all, his cock kept hammering into you, a steady reminder that you were completely at his mercy and you loved it.

Suddenly Arthur brought his hand down against your ass again, making you yelp.

“Fuck, I love it when you squeeze my cock whenever I spank ya.”

You turned towards him. “Now you’re just doing that for fun.”

“Have to keep you in line somehow.”

You grinned and pushed your ass back at him, causing him to stop moving.

“Arthur!” you whined.

“Fuck yerself on me if you want it so bad,” he said with a mocking grin.

You growled but did as he said, undulating your hips, grinding down on his shaft and slowing your pace, letting him feel every inch of your tight channel as you slid forward and back on him. You felt a thrill of victory when he finally grabbed your hips and thrust inside of you, taking control of the speed again.

“Yer drivin’ me crazy,” he grunted as he leaned forward, crushing you against the bike seat. He reached around, rubbing your clit with an expert touch. He had gotten intimately familiar with your body in the past few months and knew exactly how to push you to your peak. Each stroke made your heart race, made your breath come out in labored gasps as he made you feel a blinding pleasure with each stroke of his fingers.

“Come fer me, darlin’,” he murmured into your ear. “I’m goin’ to fill you when you do.”

“Oh fuck,” you gasped as you felt your climax hit you like a gust of wind, taking you higher and higher as you cried out, only to have Arthur wrap a hand around your mouth to stifle your screams. You kept moaning, your sounds muffled as he continued to fuck you, faster and faster, until your body was shaking from being kept on the brink for so long.

Arthur let out a low moan as he came inside of you, filling you as he promised. He let his weight crush you against the leather seat as he caught his breath, for he knew you enjoyed the heaviness of his body every once in a while. 

After a few moments, he stood up, his cum spilling out as he pulled himself out of you. “Darlin’, you alright?”

“I’m good. Better than good. That was so hot.”

He laughed. “Better keep that inside of ya,” he said, pulling a bandana from his jacket and wiping your mixed juices from your inner thigh. “Don’t wanna get my bike dirty,” he said with a wink.

You slapped his arm as you laughed and pulled your clothes back on. “That’s what you’re worried about?”

He could only laugh with you as he pulled you into his arms and kissed you gently. “It’s all I could think of. Forgive me if I ain’t able to think properly right now.”

“I forgive you," you said, tapping his nose playfully.  "Now should we go back? We probably should take a shower.”

“And then round two?” he asked with a hopeful look.

You giggled. “If you’re feeling… up to it.”

“With you? Always.”

The two of you rode back down the Ridgeway, content and happy. You snuggled into his warm back, your arms wrapped around his waist, and blissfully enjoyed the view.

When the two of you returned to your apartment, while he was helping you put away the picnic gear, he chuckled softly.

“What is it?” you asked, curious.

“Was jus’ thinkin’ we should go ridin’ more often, since it gets you all hot and bothered like this.”

You just laughed as you stripped off your clothes to give him round two.

--------------------

End Notes: The fic title is a lyric from I Feel Like A Woman by Shania Twain! The scenery was very much inspired by my visit to Asheville, North Carolina a long time ago. The Blue Mountain Ridgeway was absolutely gorgeous, definitely worth a visit. Hope you enjoyed this hot little story! With this part, this series is over. Thank you for your support!

[darlingsdevil]

The Ballads of Rebirth (Arthur Morgan x Reader)

Chapter 17: Epilogue

Masterlist

Tag list: @rollyjogerjones

A/N: This is it. This is the end. I wrote a little message for all of you to read, it would mean a lot if you did.

When I began this story a few days after Christmas, I wrote it on a whim. The story brewed in my mind for perhaps a max week before I began writing it. The original idea was inspired a lot by Big Fish the Musical, the musical I was in, in early December. I remember I used to write day after day and could get a chapter up daily, until around the sixth or seventh chapter. I can’t quite tell you how I did it, but I know if I hadn’t gotten that far so quickly, I would have never finished this story, it would have been added to my never ending pile of unfinished WIP’s. The Ballads of Rebirth was supposed to go in an entirely different direction that I had planned, Lee and Arthur’s feud was supposed to be way worse and bitter, and would have ended up with Arthur beating up Lee. Lee was supposed to be much more of an antagonist in the final chapters, a way worse of a person, but I couldn’t do it to him. In many ways, he was flawed, he was selfish at times and quick to judge, but he was still loving and goofy. I know people were not going to like him, they were rooting for Arthur after all. But I still love Lee, he was my first official rdr2 oc, my first fully fleshed out character. Quite frankly, I didn’t really ‘know’ who he was until I continued writing it, I had no personality built out for him until I began writing, and I just chose what felt right. That’s what happens with a lot of my stories, I write what feels right (which usually leads to plot holes because I don’t write shit down). But regardless, I love Lee, and I hope you’re satisfied with the ending I gave him.

There were a few times that I thought about giving up, that my story was absolute shit, that my plot holes were too confusing and my narrative was weak, and I was close to quitting. Until people began asking me when the new chapters would be out, what would happen next. While the numbers may be small, the dedication is what kept me going. And yeah, maybe my story isn’t the biggest rdr2 fic, maybe it’s not talked about in discord servers, but I don’t care, all that matters is that the fans that have stayed have shown me that I should continue writing, that there are people rooting for this story. I know, my story is full of plot holes, I know people don’t like Lee (which I’ll forever be bitter about), I know my story has grammatical errors, I know maybe I shouldn’t have killed off Mahala, I know there’s a lot I could have done, but there’s a lot I still did. As much as I think my story is weak, I’m still proud of the fact that I made it, that it is my own, that I created it and stuck through.

Sometimes, it’s not about what you could have done, it’s what you did. And that’s more valuable in many ways. Creating anything is powerful, and The Ballads of Rebirth taught me that.

So thank you, to every commentator, every person who left a like or kudo, every person who left an ask in my inbox, and especially everyone who complimented my writing style (which is apparently unique? and also these comments are a huge ego boost to me so if I’m cocky, it’s those peoples fault). Thank you for sticking with me, and I hope you enjoyed what I made.

I know I did.

••

Here Are Some Songs That Inspired This Story

1. Setting Sun - Lord Huron (Main inspiration)

2. Prologue - Starry (What I consider to be the main theme)

3. Sunlight and Storms - Starry (Inspiration for Lee and Reader’s relationship)

4. The Road - Starry (yeah.. I know there’s lots of Starry, but regardless, Arthur’s arc inspiration)

5. After The War - Stars (wow lots of star-esque things, Epilogue inspiration, I recommend listening to it while reading this)

•••

PS. The AU ending will be posted with the main story, as I realized many of you may not see it otherwise.

•••

Time passed quickly and solemnly. Life was peaceful and quiet. And you loved every second of it. After you and Arthur had left Richfield in search of the life you had lost, you and your husband had found it with Charles, in a small cottage down the road from him. Charles was happy to see you and Arthur returned to him.

And life was quiet, for a long time it was. You heard nothing of Micah and Dutch, the Pinkerton’s had stopped searching, it seemed the outlaw way had died out long ago too. You were scared Arthur or you would somehow slip back into it. you would blink and suddenly be pulled back into the life you so desperately tried to avoid, but the pull never came. The older you got, the lesser and lesser that percentage became.

The people of Wapiti had long since moved. You visited Mahala’s grave frequently, and thanked her for bringing Arthur back to you. You were sure you would have liked her.

You thanked Charles too, for being quick to find him. It was strange to think that without Charles’ swift action, Arthur would not be here today. Instead, you would be visiting his grave instead of Mahala’s.

John was exceptionally pleased to hear Arthur was still alive. Abigail wrote frequently to you for many years, you missed her dearly, but you had faith you would be reunited once more.

“Honey?” You called out to the doorway behind you.

“G’morning. I got what you asked me to pick up,” Arthur replied. You looked over your shoulder and smiled at him. He placed the box down at the table.

“Thank you. Breakfast is almost ready,” You said, scrambling some eggs on top of the stove. Arthur came up behind you and wrapped his arms around your waist.

“Someone’s touchy today,” You laughed, shaking your head.

“Missed you.” He nuzzled his face into your neck.

“You were gone for a day.”

“I’m not allowed to miss my dear wife?” He pretended to sound hurt.

“Not when you’re distracting me,” You replied nonchalantly, continuing to prepare the omelettes.

Arthur laughed heartily in your ear. “I give up then,” he said, removing his hold from your waist and putting his hands up in defeat.

“It’s almost ready, sit down.” You put the finishing touches on the omelettes and put them on plates. Arthur sat down at the small table while you fetched some forks. You stared through the window while your hands grabbed two forks, seeing the daffodils on the window, Arthur had bought for you a few days earlier.

You walked over to the table and set down the two plates, taking a seat across from Arthur. He grabbed at the plate hungrily and began to eat.

“You sure are hungry.”

“Starvin’. Been a day since I’ve had your lovely cooking,” Arthur smiled at you. You picked up your fork as well and began to eat.

“I forgot the coffee, hold on.” You realized after a few moments and walked over to the countertop to fetch the pot of coffee, pouring two cups for Arthur and you. You made yours how you liked it, and brought cream and sugar over to Arthur.

“Thank you,” He replied to the gesture, grabbing his cup. He put in a few spoonfuls of sugar and some cream, always the one with the sweet tooth.

You sipped your coffee while you ate your breakfast, glancing out towards the front windows. It was a nice day out, clear of clouds with a nice breeze. The garden still needed tending to, but at least later you could sit on the porch with Arthur.

“I invited Charles over for dinner tonight, by the way. I’m making roast beef and potatoes, and maybe an apple pie, I haven’t decided yet,” You shrugged.

“Make blueberry.” Arthur replied, picking up a newspaper from yesterday that was on the table.

“Blueberries aren’t in season.”

“Okay, then raspberry.”

“Not in season either.”

“Really? Well shit. Apple will have to do then.”

“You don’t like my apple pies?”

“What? No, I do! You just make them a lot. I feel like we’re having them every week,” Arthur laughed nervously.

You pretended to glare at him, “Then I’ll never make another apple pie again. You’re getting pie with no filling in all of them now.”

“Now I didn’t say that! I’m just saying, you make apple pies a lot, I like variety sometimes.”

“You lived with the gang for 20 years and ate the same stew for every meal but you’re complaining about me making apple pie once a week?” You raised your eyebrow at him.

“That’s why I like variety now. Couldn’t have it for so long, that once I get it I’ll never go back to eating the same thing.”

“Mhm.” You dragged out the sound, nodding sarcastically.

You stared at Arthur, he stared at you, a slight smile on his lips. “Just admit you don’t like my apple pies.”

“Would it make you happy if I said that?”

“No. Yes. Maybe. I don’t know!”

“Listen, I like your apple pies, honestly. I just like some variety, that’s all,” He said, attempting to quell your fake anger.

“I’m never making an apple pie ever again,” You replied dramatically, slumping onto the table, reaching your hands out to hold his.

Arthur chucked at your dramatics.

“Just eat your omelette.”

•••

You thought of Lee frequently. Not that you yearned for him, or missed him, you simply wondered how he was doing. And in a way, he had heard your thoughts, after about two years of silence from him, Lee sent a letter.

“You have a letter,” Arthur had said one night when he came back from town, placing the letter on the table in front of you.

“Who’s it from?”

“Lee.”

“Lee sent me a letter?” You asked in disbelief, grabbing the envelope and examining the name on the front. Leroy Rinascita. Clear as day.

(Y/N),

It’s been quite some time since you left Richfield. I hope this letter finds you well. I took a chance and sent a letter to Valentine, a city Arthur had mentioned to me before, so if I don’t hear from you, I assume you’re somewhere else off in the country.

I hope you’re pleased with the choices you made. How is Arthur, by the way? I know we started off on the wrong foot (for good reason) but overall I found him to be a good, kind man. I can tell Arthur makes a good husband. I pray he’s not too angry with how I acted earlier towards him, water under the bridge, right?

I apologize for not sending a letter sooner, or perhaps I’m sorry for even writing this, in case you find this letter strange. I just wanted to know how you are doing. I’m doing well too. I’ve found someone as well who I enjoy very much, they live with me now. I guess you can say we got married, about two months ago actually. It wasn’t a conventional marriage of course. You actually already met them. I’m not sure you would expect who, but for the sake of prying eyes, I won’t reveal who they are in this letter. Other than marriage, life’s been pretty normal. The general store is doing well, there’s some new projects in the city too. A new candy store opened by the pier after the old one unfortunately burned down a few months after you had left. Richfield is bigger now, I feel like it’ll never stop growing. More and more people show up everyday. I barely even know the neighbors names these days.

As for my father, I’m pleased to say he’s still kicking. Somehow, the cancer went away, I couldn’t tell you how, the doctors can’t either. I’m really grateful for you convincing him to stay alive, to stay for me.

Your locket is still with me, I found an old family photo of my father, my mother and Anastasia as a newborn. It was strange to see my mother’s face after so many years, I had nearly forgotten it. I have an older photo of Anastasia too on the other side, my partner isn’t in the locket, only because I see them daily. I don’t need to be reminded that I love them.

But enough talk of me, how are you doing? I know it’s been a while, but I still care about you, and hope to know you’re doing well. Give Arthur a hello for me as well.

Regards,

Lee

You were happy to know Lee still cared, in some horrible nightmare you imagined that he despised you, that you were simply a dark phase in his life. And you were even happier that Lee had found someone and was truly living the life he had wanted. In a way, you were the same as him, both yearning for peace and quiet.

“Lee’s been doing well. I’m glad he sent this letter, he says hello to you, Arthur,” You told him, setting the letter down on the table.

“Good. I’m glad Lee’s doing okay.”

“Yeah, me too.”

•••

Even though Beecher’s Hope had many people living off its land, it did not feel crowded. Perhaps it was the sky that made it feel that way, the sky was endless, and when you and your family worked underneath it, it did not feel so small. The sky was infinite.

“Jack, will you go get Anne for me? She’s out by the chicken coop,” You had told the teenager.

“Sure thing, Aunt (Y/N),” He replied, walking towards the front door to fetch Anne for dinner. Although the Marston and Morgan houses were separate, the two families had practically lived in both. Jack was eating over for dinner, John and Abigail claiming you as his babysitter. Not that he needed one — or perhaps Uncle did.

“Arthur? Will you set the table for me, please? I have to go get Anne washed up once Jack brings her in,” You called out to Arthur behind you.

“Sure.” Arthur responded, he picked up the dishes next to you and began placing them on the table.

As you finished up cooking, you heard the shrill voice of Anne calling out to you. You immediately swiveled around as her tiny legs bounced up to you.

“There’s my little one!” You said joyously, she wrapped her arms around your leg and giggled. She was a near carbon copy of Arthur. She had his nose, his eyes, his mouth shape, but she had your hair and complexion. Regardless of who she looked more like — she was yours.

“Mama! I brought you a feather from the chicken coop!” She reached into her tiny dress pocket and pulled out a white feather. It was bigger and heavier than a chicken feather, you wondered what type of bird it was.

“Sorry, Uncle Arthur, she kind of made a mess in the chicken coop,” You heard Jack say to Arthur.

“You did? Oh thank you, sweetie.” You beamed at her, she watched you take it with big proud eyes. You placed the feather in your pocket, it’s long feathers sticking out.

“You’re welcome, mama.” You noticed the dirt on her face and on her knees as she said that. You scooped her up in your arms and took her into the bathroom to wash up.

You set her down next to the sink and began washing her knees with a wet washcloth.

“Mommy?”

“Yes?” You hummed, continuing to scrub the dirt off her knees.

“When is the baby coming?”

“Not for a couple more months.”

“Daddy thinks it’ll be a boy,” She told you matter of factly.

“Daddy thinks lots of things.”

“He told me he’s sure about this one.”

“When did daddy say that?” You asked, dipping the washcloth under the water, beginning to wipe the dirt off her cute face.

“Today. He told me while we were looking for flowers for you.”

“Okay, well, what else did he say?”

“He said he wants to name the baby Henry Hosea.”

You blinked at the name. Henry Hosea did sound nice. After all, Hosea was technically your adoptive father, as well as Arthur’s. Neither of you had really ever brought him up, avoiding that painful topic entirely. And Anne knew nothing of your past occupations, it was a story for another time, when she was older.

“I like the name Hosea,” Anne responded after being met by your silence.

“It’s a nice name,” Your voice nearly breaking. You subdued the tears in your eyes, after all that conversation was for another time.

When you finished cleaning Anne up, you brought her to dinner and sat her down next to Jack. You brought the food out to the table, making sure to put the apple pie right in front of Arthur.

•••

In many ways, time had been kind to you. It had been patient and nurturing, time allowed you a second chance at life.

It had given you the life you had wanted, one full of peace, love and family. Your life was quiet at Beecher’s Hope, filled with no revenge story. Time had dragged out your lesson for many years, but now you were reaping the fruits of your labor.

So now, as you cradle your newborn son, watching Anne and Arthur play in the field, her giggles dancing over the grass. You thank time for being there for you. For giving you what you wanted, for letting you learn to grow. For giving you a family. For returning Arthur to you.

In many ways you were thankful, thankful for the lessons you had learned, thankful for the house you lived in, thankful for the food on your table. Thankful for Mahala, thankful for Lee, thankful for Anne, thankful for Arthur and thankful for your son, Henry Hosea.

A cool breeze swept over the field, causing the grass and flowers to dance in the wind. Anne began to pretend she was a bird and Arthur raced around trying to catch her, both laughing in unison.

You looked down at your newborn son, his eyes closed over his resting face.

“One day I’ll tell you where your name comes from. I’ll tell you all about the life your daddy and I lived. And I’ll tell you about the life I had after that, and I’ll tell you about why I’ll never go back to either. One day I’ll tell you all about it,” You said quietly to your son, a promise to him and time, and no one else.

And in the end there was a man and a woman, and a daughter and a son, living to the world, thankful for every moment they get to spend with each other.

And Mother Nature rejoiced, for the man on the mountain and the woman in the city had found each other.

••• The End •••

[sharpace]

“Well! Your lot certainly made a mess of Europe” “My lot?!”              - 1649

Costuming thoughts under the cut!

Bonus: 

Before I get into my own little adventure, I want to say this show has my favorite costumes.  They are so beautiful made and well thought out.  I’m just singing with joy.

OKAY COSTUME THOUGHTS TIME So I’ve been researching this era for a costume I’d like to sew in the future and BOY what a rich century for fashion. Naturally, I had to share a little bit of that enthusiasm with some fanart.

For this piece, I wanted to narrow in on the 1630-1650s because of the duality of the styles and the huge cultural shifts happening at the time. During this era, you had the 30 Year War and the English Civil War which sobered up fashion while during the same era, you had the King Charles I and King Louis XIII who both loved to make a big show of wealth and power through fashion. After composing a general knowledge, I started analysing Aziraphale and Crowley’s fashions between the 1601 and 1793 alongside their descriptions.

Crowley

“Crowley thinks he’s really cool, and he wants to adapt his coolness to the time period, and so he’s very profligate with his looks, his version of what’s on trend.” - Tennant

The key thing I understood from the show was that Crowley doesn’t necessary wear the hottest fashions of the time but he certainly wears what he thinks is “cool”. The difference between these two seems slight but I think it’s what distinguishes it as his own personal style.  For example, Crowley’s 1967 look combines a beatnik, the Beatles, and a greaser versus what those would look like on their own.  When combined you kind of go “Yeah, this guy would have hundreds of pounds lying around to rob a bank” instead of “I loved your hit Yesterday.”.  When narrowing in on his style, he pretty consistently has sleek silhouette and feels modern in every scene. Due to this, I wanted to set myself a hard year as he changes his fashion frequently, so I chose 1649. 1648 marked the end of the 30 Year War; a war which had sobered and sombered fashion into more of a military style. And in 1649 through the 1660s, post-war fashion became a celebration of decadence. While I didn’t see Crowley wearing lace collars and silk breeches, I did see him having a “modern” silhouette more fitting of the 1650s.

Image Sources: 1 2 3 4 5

Aziraphale

Now with Aziraphale I struggled with pinpointing quite what it was that made his clothes his.  His clothes are finely made but not showy, they’re within the same color scheme but is willing to take on small variations of color and pattern, and the silhouette can best be described as comfortable.

When working on his design I took into account that Aziraphale buys his clothes (a fact noted in the books.  Crowley makes his appear) and in episode 3 he states that he has “standards”. So with all this in mind, I interpreted this as a deep appreciation for craftsmanship which is why he holds onto them for so long.  He’s quite proud of the fact that he’s kept his coat “in tip-top condition for over 180 years” so that’s a pretty good indication of his love for his clothes.  This lines up pretty well considering most of the times he’s shown he’s about 20-100 years out of fashion.

“Great!” I said, “Since he’s behind on the times and appreciates craftsmanship, I will just place him somewhere in the early 1600s and–” annndd put myself up against the beautiful 1601 design from the show. Oh dear. Not only was that troubling but I really wanted this piece to feel distinct in its own era but not quite so with the times as Crowley.

So I took the middle of the road by using 1620s/1630s fashion with bits that would also be from the 1600s (breeches and shirt namely). The 1620s/1630s in England was characterized with the extravagant . I reasoned that breeches are comfortable and more likely to withstand time versus the stockings, the Vandyck collar requires quite a lot of craftsmanship between the shape and lace, and the doublet made a dramatic change in shape with the slashed sleeves and square shoulders, and embroidered cuffs which would leave his doublet from 1601 dramatically out of style (though I’m sure he still wears it with pride).

Image Sources: 1 2 3 4

With all that put together, ta-da! The finished product and a ridiculous pair that I am having way too much fun designing in different eras. I think I may do one more of these but it’ll be starkly different than the Edwardian one and this one.

[inhumansforever]

Uncanny Inhumans #20 Review

spoilers spoilers spoilers spoilers spoilers spoilers spoilers spoilers spoilers

It’s the grand finale, with the twentieth and final issue of Uncanny Inhumans, a post script to IvX, and Charles Soule’s last (just for the time being hopefully) Inhuman story.  With art by Ario Anindito, Kim Jacinto and Java Tartaglia and covers by Declan Shalvey and Frazer Irving.  Full review and recap following the jump.

Maximus’ madcap adventure to create synthetic Terrigen Crystals has taken him and his gang all over the globe as the various components and ingredients for the formula have been collected (along with some extraneous, unneeded ingredients gathered merely to keep the recipe a secret).  Their journey has terminated in India where they are met by the Inhuman gangster, Banyan.  Bayan has recruited his former crony,  Kludge, who has built the mechanism required to combine the ingredients into artificial Terrigen.    

Kludge, an Inhuman who is clinically insane and loves to build deadly machine and Maximus, who is also quite mad and very much appreciates deadly machines, get along famously and they start right to work on building the device that promises to produce synthetic Terrigen.  The others wait idly by, busying themselves by playing cards and watching old Bollywood films on television.  

Lineage expresses concern that Maximus will do away with them, as he had The Unspoken, once they are no longer needed.  Triton returns that he has played along with Maximus only to the extent that he can produce the Terrigen; once he succeeds it will be Triton who will do the backstabbing, ending the threat Maximus poses once and for all.  

Maximus and Kludge finally finish, only what they have created is not a Terrigen creating machine at all.  Rather it is a giant killer robot.   Max’s explanation is that simply making Terrigen is boring, something ‘Maximus the Mundane’ might do.  No, a giant robot is more is fashion and offers the others room int he cockpit as he takes the robot off to go squash this no good evil Mutants.  

Before anyone can respond to this unexpected turn of events, the plant they’re work at is besieged by a ginormous aquatic monster… a mega-prawn that carries inside it The Unspoken and his would-be queen who have sought out to extract revenge on Maximus for his betrayal.  

Maximus wastes no time.  He and Kluge board their ridiculous power ranger-style giant robot to battle this equally ridiculous  power ranger-style monster.  And like any ridiculous power ranger-style giant robot, Max’s robot is equipped with a laser sword, which it uses the cut through the mega-prawn like so much sushi.  

Unfortunately, the laser sword is actually powered by synthetic Terrigen, which The Unspoken is able to absorb and trigger his Inhuman abilities.  The Unspoken grows into a hulking version of himself, tearing Maxims’ robot in two with ease.  Max escapes the wrecked robot, crawling from its wrecked cockpit while continuing his warped self-narration, stating it is now up to him to save the day.  

Banyan has had it.  Maximus’ plan to manufacture artificial Terrigen was meant to make him rich, yet all his investments have gone to this goofy robot.  He’s had it and lunges at Max.  Triton springs into action, fending Banyan off as Maximus focuses his telepathic powers on The Unspoken.  Lineage is quite surprised by the turn of events.  Triton had the perfect opportunity to turn on Maximus; why is he now acting to defend him?

The Unspoken’s Inhuman powers are quite impressive, yet his one glaring weakness is uncreative and, in the final analysis, rather dim.  As empowered as he is, The Unspoken’s mind is no match for Maximus’ telepathic manipulation.  Max is able to take control of The Unspoken’s will, causing him to fire off the Terrigen he has stored in him in the forms of force beams that shoot harmlessly off into space.  Depleted of this Terrigen, The Unspoken reverts to his former, enfeebled self.  Triton’s twin blades, meanwhile, has rendered Banyan into a harmless stump of his former self (un-fatal, however, in that he has shown the ability to regenerate his tree-like form with time).    

Still monologuing, Maximus spins this clear defeat into a moral victory, stating that he chose not to produce artificial Terrigen because it is up to the Inhumans to finally learn to adapt and evolve on their own.  Truth be told, Maximus merely wants to keep his secret recipe for synthetic Terrigen to himself, making him invaluable to his people… offering him all the power and influence he so desires.  And it is for this that Triton chose to defend him rather than allow Banyan to kill him.  As long as Maximus possesses this secret he remains untouchable…

And it is here that this silly, unnecessary but nonetheless fun tale comes to a close.   With what will eventually happen to Maximus and his goon squad left to be addressed in the pages of next month’s Inhuman Prime.  

The issue ends with an epilogue, tying off the events of IvX.  Medusa and Black Bolt are meeting in the Quiet Room.  Whatever procedures the X-Men had used to nullify Black Bolt’s voice are gradually wearing off.  In the meantime, however, it offers the two the rare opportunity to talk with one another.   

They discuss all that has transpired, the war with The Mutants, the destruction of The Terrigen Cloud, and  Medusa’s abdication of the throne.  Medusa also looks back on all that has happened to them, the various trials and adventures they have faced, the battles they won, those they lost and the new challenges that their people now face. 

Medusa asks Black Bolt bluntly if he had any knowledge that The Terrigen Cloud would prove fatal to Mutants.  Black Bolt offers an emphatic no; he never considered that the cloud would change in this fashion and he would never have triggered the Terrigen Bomb had he known that it would have resulted in so many Mutant deaths.    

Flagman arrives and escorts the two to a banquet room where many of their colleagues have gathered to offer one last gesture of thanks and gratitude to their former queen.  Medusa counters their sentiment, tasting instead to the future and all that it may hold for them.    And it is here that the issue and the entire series comes to its conclusion.  

Well, that was… something.   This three-issue tie-in to IvX did not really have much to do with the war between the Inhumans and X-Men at all, but was rather just a silly adventure.  Although its lightness and humor offered a nice counterbalance to the grave heaviness of IvX.  It’s true saving grace is that writer, Charles Soule so excels at scripting Maximus.  He channels Max’s unhinged and manic glee just wonderfully; and  Ario Anindito’s illustration with Max’s wild eyes and contorted features pairs perfectly with he dialogue.   The story is kind of a waste in that it could have been used to shore up the significant plot holes in IvX.  Instead we got an irreverent romp with a goofy giant robot and an even goofier giant sea monster.  And yet it’s forgivable in that Max and his let’s-go-ganging gang is so much fun to read.  

Less fun is the epilogue scene.  It’s a nice recap of the series as a whole, yet Jacinto’s illustration is rushed and Medusa and Black Bolt’s discussion regarding the Terrigen Cloud proving deleterious to Mutants left a bit of a bad taste in my mouth.  

There was a good deal of revisionist history in the ways in which IvX wrapped up.  The plot was tweaked in a fashion to exonerate the Inhumans’ culpability over all of the Mutants who had died due to Terrigen poisoning.  This is fine in and of itself, but it is also a bit antithetical to who The Inhumans really are.  The Inhumans, the Royal Family and those of Old Attilan, were never meant to be traditional superheroes with noble, lawfully good values.  They’re not evil, but they’re not good either; just different.  Medusa’s reframe that ‘an Inhuman’s right to go through Terrigenesis is not worth a single Mutant life’  is both contrary to her actions in the past as well antithetical to the true values of her people.  And Black Bolt’s statement that he would never have triggered the Terrigen Bomb had he known what it would do to Mutants seems… well, let’s just say I don’t believe him.  

It seems to me that editorial wanted The Inhumans to look more heroic and sympathetic in the wake of IvX and Soule played along.  Not only did the attempt not work, it feels untrue to who The Inhumans are and what makes them so interesting to read about.  

This gets at the root of the challenge Charles Soule has had to deal with throughout his tenure on Inhumans.  At this point I feel confident in positing that Matt Fraction left the book because Marvel very much wanted the Inhumans turned into ersatz X-Men and that was something he had no interest in.  Soul was brought on board last minute to fill in for Fraction and likely given the same assignment.  He did as asked, but managed to do it in a way that retained the true essence of who The Inhumans are.  

Soule made The Inhumans into more traditional superheroes, but also held onto that key alien and unsettling quality hat makes them unique… balancing more conventional superhero tropes (Inferno’s origin and Linage’s dastardly schemes) with the outré weirdness more expected of The Inhumans (Reader’s origin, the introduction of Ennilux and the squad’s battle with Kang).  

Some aspects worked quite well, with he addition of a bevy of great new characters and the rich development of Medusa’s character; while other parts didn’t work as well…  Soule’s version of Black Bolt is very much out of sync with my own impression of who the character is and Triton, Gorgon and Medusa spent too much time int he background for my tastes.   Not that I’m complaining, I grew up having to wait months, sometimes years, for appearances of my beloved Inhumans…  Getting new Inhuman books nearly every week has been all but an embarrassment of riches and I’m more than happy to take the good with the bad.  

Rather than morphing The Inhumans into replacement X-Men, feared and hated for their differences, Soule took a different route and utilized the formation of New Attilan and its displaced populace of Inhumans as a metaphor for the immigrant/refugee experience in the West.   I feel that it worked quite well; as well as underscored how easily both he Mutants and Inhumans can coexist in the marvel Universe.   Tribalism, bigotry, cultural assimilation and xenophobia are matters easily big enough and important enough to be tackled in both The X-Men as well as The Inhumans

The whole Inhumans versus X-Men cross-over event ended up forcing the narrative in Uncanny Inhumans to streamline and consolidate so to fit in with the event’s plot.  A number of longstanding threads have thus been left unaddressed.  We still don’t know what the Sky Spears are all about; what young Ahura has planned as the leader of The Ennilux Corporation will have to be told later; and the romance between Medusa and Johnny Storm came to a conclusion in a quick, less than satisfactory fashion.  I have to imagine each of these matters might have been better addressed had Soule’s narrative not been forced to roll into IvX.  

That said, Charles Soule’s tenure on The Inhumans has been wonderful and he has my great gratitude for steering these favorite characters into the uncharted waters of the big push to make them a more centralized part of the overarching Marvel Universe.    

Whatever endeavors the future brings for Mr. Soule, I wish him the best of luck.  Welcome to the Astonishing X-Men, Charles, hope you survive the experience!

Two out of Five Lockjaws for the issue;

Five out of Five Lockjaw for the entire series