#prickly pear extract

[echoesofinsights]

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Unproductive Meetings : Long discussions with no clear outcomes can eat up valuable time.

Overthinking Small Decisions : Spending too much mental energy on trivial choices leaves less room for what truly matters.

Neglecting Self-Care : Skipping meals, sleep, or exercise might seem like saving time, but it actually slows you down in the long run.

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[max11237]

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[housecow]

hi! I'm from north texas and looking to get into natural dyes! do you know any forageable plant in the north texas area from which you can extract any particularly lightfast dyes?

y’all have hella prickly pear up there too, right? use the cochineal from them!! it can be difficult to gather enough for a lot of dye, but if you know several areas with large amounts of the cactus it should be good!! i’ve been meaning to try that myself :))

you can also use galls from oaks to dye things—i think the color might turn out differently depending on which oak, but the live oak galls are a nice brown/beige !!

you may also be able to use pecan shells? poke weed (!! the berries make a gorgeous purple), turks cap as well!!

[whencyclopedia]

Cochineal

Cochineal is a brilliant red dye extracted from the crushed bodies of parasitic insects which prey on cacti in the warmer parts of the Americas. The dye was an important part of trade in ancient Mesoamerica and South America and throughout the colonial era when its use spread worldwide. Even today, cochineal continues to be used in foodstuffs and cosmetics.

Cacti & Bugs

The insects required to make cochineal red dye are females of the Dactylopius coccus which feed on the nopal cactus (aka the prickly pear cactus) in tropical and subtropical areas of the American continent and in some highlands in South America. A massive amount of insects is required, some 25,000 live insects or 70,000 dried ones to make around 450 grammes or one pound of dye. Only a few millimetres in length, the insects were so small that there was confusion over what they actually were, most thought them a worm that derived from a berry turning rotten. Not until the arrival of the microscope and the work of Nicolaas Hartsoeker in 1694 and Antoni van Leeuwenhoek in 1704 did science shed its light on the subject of just what was the source of this brilliant red dye.

The insects are collected from cacti and then subjected to extreme heat before being crushed, the precise method and temperature used dictate the colour shade of the resulting dye, produced by the presence of carminic acid. Cochineal red dye ranges in colour shades from orange to scarlet. Pure cochineal dye was also used to make other red-based colour pigments such as lake and carmine. Cochineal dye is particularly effective at bonding with natural animal fibres like silk, rabbit hair, feathers, and the wool of sheep, llamas, and alpaca.

Continue reading...

[sciatu]

AMARI SICILIANI

Arrivando in Sicilia gli arabi portarono, tra le tante cose che hanno arricchito l’isola, anche la conoscenza della distillazione, la capacità di estrare dalle sostanze l’El-Iksir, che i continentali impararono a chiamare Elisir. Per cui, la distillazione è sempre stata una tecnica nota e praticata nell’isola pur non producendo distillati alcolici famosi se non il terribile Fuoco dell’Etna con i suoi 90 gradi. Quando ad esempio negli anni ’80, i viticultori francesi si opposero all’importazione dei vini da taglio siciliani, l’industria vinicola locale, per non morire, iniziò a distillare vini per produrne etanolo alimentare. Questa crisi spinse i viticultori a vinificare con tecniche diverse, che permisero loro di raggiungere quote di mercato grazie a vini dalla qualità superiore rispetto a quelli venduti in passato ai francesi per dare corpo e gradazione ai loro anemici prodotti. Anche adesso, la distillazione è una valvola di sfogo molto importante quando ad esempio rossi e rosati restano invenduti nei magazzini per motivi di marketing o di sovraproduzione. Infatti, con l’aumento delle temperature e le estati sempre più lunghe e calde, i rossi siciliani corposi e con una gradazione importante sono sfavoriti al consumo rispetto ai vini bianchi che costituiscono comunque più del settanta percento della produzione totale. Accade così che nell’ultimo anno, quasi 250.000 bottiglie siano state inviate alla distillazione. Con questa produzione di Etanolo nelle 22 grandi distillerie isolane, è naturale che si cerchi di sviluppare il consumo di amari, Gin, estratti alcoolici di limone, mandarini, pompelmi, fichidindia, mandorle, cannella, cioccolato, finocchio selvatico e qualsiasi altro prodotto naturale da cui è possibile estrare un’essenza, un gusto piacevole e corroborante. Prodotti ad elevato tasso alcolico che vengono consumate nelle celeberrime grigliate e mangiate familiari in cui i convitati, alla fine del pranzo, sarebbero disposti a bere qualsiasi cosa fosse in grado di far loro digerire la grande quantità di cibo che hanno divorato.

Arriving in Sicily, the Arabs brought, among the many things that enriched the island, also the knowledge of distillation, the ability to extract El-Iksir from substances, which the continentals learned to call Elixir. Therefore, distillation has always been a known and practiced technique on the island even though it did not produce famous alcoholic distillates except the terrible Fuoco dell’Etna with its 90 degrees. For example, when in the 80s, French winemakers opposed the importation of Sicilian blending wines, the local wine industry, in order not to die, began to distill wines to produce edible ethanol. This crisis pushed winemakers to make wine with different techniques, which allowed them to reach market shares thanks to wines of superior quality compared to those sold in the past to the French to give body and alcoholic strength to their anemic products. Even now, distillation is a very important outlet when, for example, reds and rosés remain unsold in warehouses for marketing reasons or overproduction. In fact, with the increase in temperatures and increasingly long and hot summers, full-bodied Sicilian reds with a high alcohol content are disadvantaged in consumption compared to white wines that still constitute more than seventy percent of total production. It so happens that in the last year, almost 250,000 bottles were sent to distillation. With this production of Ethanol in the 22 large distilleries on the island, it is natural that we try to develop the consumption of bitters, Gin, alcoholic extracts of lemon, mandarins, grapefruits, prickly pears, almonds, cinnamon, chocolate, wild fennel and any other natural product from which it is possible to extract an essence, a pleasant and invigorating taste. Highly alcoholic products that are consumed in the very famous barbecues and family meals where the guests, at the end of the meal, would be willing to drink anything that was able to help them digest the large quantity of food they have devoured.

[sims2ccfindsbyck]

++ The Workbench from TS3 'Ambitions' is decorative only, but has three slots to put things on it.

+++ The little Cubby from TS3 'Aurora Skies' is best admired from afar as the mesh is quite blocky and blurry (if these are the right technical terms).

+++ The Radio Antenna is separated from a TS3 'University' stereo and decorative only.

+++ The Wall Billboard comes from TS4 'City Life' and has a gigantic 15 recolors.

+++ The Money Bag you can get from the genie in The Sims 2 is a decorative item which mesh I extracted because I needed the bag for my game.

+++ The Street Store Table from TS4 'City Life' is cloned from a dining table, but I wouldn't recommend to use it for your Sims dinner parties.Too little foot space!

+++ The Crocks Of Stuff are straight from the TS3 base game. I made them a bit smaller than the originals.

+++ Jon And Cindy Bunny are at home at the TS3 'Ultra Lounge' and make a nice decoration for a child's room.

+++ The 3x2 Rocket Rug is a TS3 base game item and master to the 2x1 round Purrfect Rug (not pictured). I added a couple of recolors that fit the last four sets I uploaded.

++ The Crime Map is a decorative object that I converted from TS4 'Get To Work'. If you turn it around, the cork surface is blank.

+++ The Grocery Store Poster is ripped from the TS3 'Showtime' grocery shop. There are six motives, with the ads appearing on the front and the back of the poster so that you can put them on the window pane using the "moveObjects" cheat.

+++ The Shopping Cart hails from the same source. Just use the "snapObjectsToGrid" cheat and put them in a row together. Nifty, right?

++ The Prickly Pear Cactus from TS3 'Lucky Palms' can be found under the Deco/Plants category. Careful! Handle with gloves!

++ The Russian Double Window from TS3 'Mother Russia' gave me more trouble than it was worth. That's why I didn't feel like making a diagonal version. Enough is enough!

+++ The Horizontal Chemical Tank and the Tall Refinery Chimney are the remnants of a bunch of objects I converted from Cyclonesue's Industrial Tanks and Silos set. The other objects seem to have gone straight into deleted-file-heaven. Bummer!

[todaysbug]

November 8th, 2023

Cochineal (Dactylopius coccus)

Distribution: Mainly found in tropical and subtropical regions; from South America northward to the Southern USA.

Habitat: Deserts and arid areas; found on prickly pear cacti.

Diet: Herbivorous endoparasite; nymphs and female adults feeds mainly on the moisture and nutrients from its host plant, most commonly the prickly pear cactus. Males do not eat.

Description: The cochineal is most well-known for being the insect from which carmine dye is produced. This insect contains large amounts of carmine acid which, when extracted, can produce beautiful dyes ranging from scarlet to crimson. Due to their sessile lifestyle, cochineals are easily swept up from their host plants, after which they are dried and crushed into powder. It takes around 70,000 cochineals to make one pound of dye.

Cochineals spend the majority of their life on one prickly pear cactus or another. The female will feed on the cactus pad, piercing its thick cuticle with her beak-like mouthparts. Once fertilized, she lays her eggs on the same cactus pad, hatching little purple nymphs. After a certain point, the nymphs will form long wax filaments and move to the edge of the cactus pad, where the wind will take them to a new host. At maturity, only males have wings, but they live only to reproduce then die.

(Images by Frank Vincentz and Vahe Martirosyan)

[dystopicjumpsuit]

Stars Beyond Number - Chapter 15

Here We Go

Rating: M - Minors DNI

Pairings: Echo x Riyo Chuchi; Gregor x OFC Cerra Kilian

Wordcount: 3.5k

Warnings and tags: fluff; bonding; SO MUCH SMUT; literally half of this chapter is smut, and I don't know what I was on when I wrote it, but I'd like some more, because it is filthy; fingering; oral sex; unprotected PIV; dirty talk (possibly light degradation/dumbification kink if you squint); voice kink; biting; marking; cum play; excessive use of the c-word; DJ is unwell about Riyo Chuchi and so is Echo

Suggested Listening:

Summary: The team deals with Nemec's inhibitor chip; Echo and Riyo stop sneaking around.

A/N: This story shares continuity with Martyrs and Kings and "Do It Again," but all three fics can be read as stand-alones.

Start here | Previous chapter | Next chapter | Masterlist | Sign up for my tag list | Read on AO3

Here we go round the prickly pear

At five o'clock in the morning.

—T. S. Eliot, “The Hollow Men”

When Echo and Rex returned to the common area, Cerra was in the kitchen speaking quietly to Gregor. His eyes flicked toward Rex, then back to Cerra, and he nodded.

“Thanks, Gregor,” Echo heard Cerra say in a low tone. “I’m sorry.”

He gave her a reassuring smile, then turned back to his task. Cerra then crossed to Nemec and drew him aside, speaking quickly. His expression went from curious to concerned, but he followed her without protest into the small area they’d sectioned off to use as a med bay. Echo felt slightly guilty that he hadn’t even attempted to smooth over Rex and Cerra’s disagreement, but he didn’t have time to dwell on it, as Riyo and one of her guards arrived within minutes.

“Hello,” she smiled, and Echo nearly forgot how to breathe.

“Riyo,” he greeted her, not entirely able to conceal the warmth in his tone. 

“Right on time,” Gregor called as he began plating the meal. “No table, so you’ll just have to take a seat wherever you can find one.”

“This looks amazing,” Riyo said as he began to pass the plates around.

Her guard looked surprised when Gregor handed him a plate, but he nodded his thanks and examined the food curiously. Echo led Riyo to a crate and helped her up onto it, then hopped up to sit next to her. Rex had disappeared, Force alone knew where.

“Where’s the trooper you extracted?” she asked.

“He’s with Cerra, having his chip removed now,” Echo said. “Hopefully it won’t take long.”

The rest of the group drifted to any available seats and settled in to eat. A few scattered conversations around the room soon morphed into quiet grunts of appreciation, followed by silence. When Riyo tasted her first bite, her eyes lit with delight.

“Gregor, this is delicious!” she exclaimed. “Where did you learn to cook like that?”

“Abafar,” he said with a pleased grin.

“I’ve never heard of it,” she said.

“You should count yourself lucky,” he chuckled. 

“I feel a little foolish that I was bringing soup when you’re such a brilliant cook,” she admitted.

“No need to feel foolish,” Gregor said. “I was away on a mission, so I wasn’t here to cook that day anyway. Besides, every cook knows that the best tasting meals are the ones someone else cooked. Unless that someone is Cerra. Never ask her to cook for you.”

Riyo laughed. “It can’t possibly be that bad!”

“You wouldn’t say that if you’d tasted her food,” Gregor giggled.

“What were you doing on Abafar?” Fireball asked curiously, and Echo remembered that the young clone had never gotten his promised explanation.

“Crash landing,” Gregor replied. “I wouldn’t recommend it.”

“Is that why—” Fireball started to ask before stopping himself, apparently regaining some measure of tact.

“The voice?” Gregor asked. “No, that came after I got blown up in a rhydonium explosion. I only lost my memories in the crash.”

Fireball’s eyes went wide. “How are you still alive?”

“That’s not all,” Echo said. “I watched him take two blaster bolts to the chest and walk it off. Gregor’s made of strong stuff.”

“He’s not the only one,” Riyo said quietly, gazing at Echo with an expression of transparent admiration.

“You got that right,” Gregor chuckled. “Echo and I should start a club for clones who got blown up and survived.

“There might be more of us than you realize,” Echo replied. “But first, we have to get them away from the Empire.”

“Fireball said the procedure wasn’t too bad,” Nemec said uncertainly.

“It should be pretty quick and painless,” Cerra replied. “But I’ll need to shave your hair—at least a patch of it.”

“Might as well take it all off,” he said with a grunt.

“You sure?” she asked. “People might start mistaking you for me.”

He laughed. “I doubt that.”

“How about I just take off enough for the procedure, and when you wake up, you can decide what you want to do.”

He nodded. “Let’s get it over with."

She shaved a small patch of his hair, then had him lie down on the surgical pod bed as she administered a sedative, fastening the restraints around him after it took effect. Once Nemec was inside the surgical pod, Cerra kept a close eye on the screen, tuning out the noise of the group outside. She had only watched the procedure before, never performed it herself, and she didn’t want to risk getting something wrong. The operation itself was relatively quick—considering it was brain surgery—but according to Rex, recovery times could vary significantly. Fireball had woken up about ten minutes after having his chip removed, but Rex had told her that one of the enhanced clones he’d helped on Bracca had taken much longer.

The pod beeped as the level five atomic scan located the chip, and Cerra entered the removal command. The machine hummed to life. Nemec’s fingers twitched, but the pod’s restraints held him steady as the automated procedure commenced. Cerra reached out and took his hand in hers, holding it as much for her own comfort as anything else. His fingers tightened briefly around hers, and she knew it was just a reflexive response, but it reassured her anyway. So absorbed was she in her task that she didn’t hear the door hiss open or the footsteps approach behind her.

“Status?”

Cerra flinched and pulled her hand away. “Kriff me, Rex, you scared the shit out of me.”

“Sorry,” Rex said with a half smile as he handed her a cup of caf. “Didn’t mean to sneak up on you.”

She took a sip and knew immediately that Gregor had made it. Some day she’d have to ask him what he did to make his caf better than anyone else’s.

“Everything seems fine, aside from the small detail of someone who is very much not a medical professional performing brain surgery,” she said.

“You got this,” he said. “Want some company while you wait?”

“Don’t you have Gregor’s fancy dinner to eat?” she asked.

“He’s feeding the rest of the group first. He said he’d wait to cook ours until Nemec is recovered enough to eat,” Rex shrugged.

Her heart gave a little twist. Of course, Gregor would find a way to make sure everyone was taken care of. She should have known.

Rex stood next to her, strong and reassuring, and Cerra felt her anxiety drop to a mere simmer in the face of his unflappable calm. The pod control panel indicated that the surgery was proceeding normally, and she gradually relaxed.

“Pretty decent ship you and Gregor got for Balmorra,” she observed. 

“It’ll need some modifications—engine and weapons upgrades. Think you can handle it?” he asked.

She snorted. “Obviously. It would go faster if Trace were here to help out, though. Any chance she’ll be back sometime soon?”

Rex shook his head. “There’s still too much heat on Coruscant for either of the Martez sisters to risk coming back for now. Echo is good with a hydrospanner, though.”

“Good point,” Cerra said. “I’ll ask if he has time to help.”

“What else would he be doing?” Rex asked.

Cerra raised her eyebrows. Was it possible that Rex had missed the way Echo and Riyo looked at each other? They could hardly be more obvious if they were kriffing on the roof of 500 Republica for the entire planet to see.

“You never know,” she said with a shrug, allowing Rex to keep his innocence for the moment. It was really none of her business anyway.

Cerra wasn’t sure when it had happened, but Echo had been noticeably less grumpy for the past week or so, and if she had any credits, she would have bet every last one that Riyo was the reason for his newly cheerful outlook.

The surgical pod hummed and whirred as it worked, and within half an hour or so, it beeped an alert that the procedure was complete. Cerra double-checked Nemec’s life-signs, which were all normal, then settled in to wait for him to wake up. Rex started to clean his DC-17s, which was a sure sign that he was bored and looking for something to do with his hands. Cerra stretched and flopped back in her chair while she waited. Their makeshift med bay was not remotely soundproof, and snatches of conversation and laughter drifted in occasionally.

Kriff, she was tired. Sometimes she thought she could sleep until the heat death of the universe and still need a nap afterward. She rubbed the grit out of her eyes with her fist, drawing Rex’s attention.

“Why don’t you go join the others?” he asked. “I’ll stay with Nemec.”

“Nah, it sounds like they’re having a good time. Wouldn’t want to bring everyone down.”

“It looked like you were having fun earlier,” Rex observed. “Almost reminded me of the way things used to be.”

She snorted. “We raised some hell, didn’t we?”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” he said in a dignified tone.

“Really?” she asked. “You don’t remember that Cody used to have a framed holo of you, me, and Fives dancing on the bartop at 79’s?”

“I remember Fives and Jesse doing body shots off of you and the three of you almost getting arrested for public indecency.”

“Oh, yeah, that was a fun night,” she grinned. “I’d never seen Tup so mortified. Poor kid didn’t know where to look.”

They reminisced quietly for some time. Nemec’s vitals were stable, but he took longer than anticipated to wake up, and eventually, the sounds of laughter and conversation from the garage faded as the night dragged on. Someone knocked on the door, and Fireball poked his head inside to check on Nemec’s progress, and then Gregor joined them, carrying a sabacc deck.

“Where’s everyone else?” Rex asked as Gregor dealt.

“They all headed back to the embassy,” Fireball said. “Echo said he’d be back in the morning.” 

Rex looked startled, and Gregor and Cerra exchanged wordless, amused glances. A warm glow spread over her. She’d missed Gregor badly since he’d been avoiding her, and she hoped things would get back to normal now that she was safely home from Raada.

The surgical pod beeped, and she hopped up immediately to check on it, Fireball following close behind. Nemec’s eyes opened slowly.

“Welcome back, brother,” Fireball said.

“Did it work?” Nemec rasped.

“All readings are normal,” Cerra said with a smile. “Looks like we have another successful mission, boys.”

“Do you know, I’ve never had a bath before,” Echo said, stroking his fingers down the soft, damp skin of Riyo’s arm.

He gazed out the transparisteel wall at the vast expanse of Coruscant’s upper levels, the lights of the towers and spires resplendent against the darkness. Inside Riyo’s luxurious ensuite refresher, the lights were low, glistening off the water droplets that scattered across her lovely, smooth skin like stars in the night sky as she sat between his legs, her back leaning against his front, soaking in the warm, fragrant bath.

“Never?” she asked, tilting her face up to look at him from where she reclined on his chest.

“Mmm,” he replied, pressing his lips into her hair. “Not unless you count bacta tanks.”

He felt the slow, hypnotic movement of her hands tracing up his thighs beneath the warm, fragrant water as she nestled between his legs.

“How do you like it?” she asked.

“It’s perfect,” he said. “Never been so happy my prosthetics are waterproof.”

He kissed her again, his lips brushing against the shell of her ear, and then lower on her neck as she tilted her head to give him better access. He slipped his hand around the front of her body to cup her breast gently, rolling her nipple with his thumb as she exhaled a luxurious sigh. Shifting slightly, he bent his leg and nudged her thighs apart with his foot. She complied immediately, her body softening and opening for him as he trailed his fingertips down her abdomen.

Her hips shifted, brushing her ass against his cock, and his breath caught at the sensation of her plush curves teasing him. He rested his hand over her pussy and drew her body backward through the water, grinding slowly against her.

“Do you feel what you do to me?” he whispered in her ear. “Do you feel how fucking hard I am for you?”

She gasped at his filthy words, and her body arched against him. “Yes, Maker, yes.”

He circled her clit languidly, keeping his pressure light. She slid her hands further up his hips to hold his body closer to hers, moaning quietly. His mouth dropped lower, his tongue dragging across the sensitive junction of her neck and shoulder, his teeth scraping lightly over her flesh.

“Echo…” she whispered.

“Tell me,” he murmured, wrapping his scomp arm across the front of her chest and pulling her shoulders firmly against him. “Tell me what you like.”

“I like everything you’re doing, and—Oh!” she gasped as he grazed a particularly sensitive spot.

“Tell me,” he repeated, his voice deep and rough.

He rocked his cock against her ass again, and she let out a broken whimper. “That—oh, kriff—I like that—I love feeling how hard you are. I love knowing that I did that to you—gods, Echo…”

Gradually, he increased the pressure and speed of his fingers on her clit, rocking his cock against her ass as he lavished kisses over her shoulder, neck, and jaw. He could feel her legs beginning to tremble as her hips moved rhythmically against him. The water rippled and splashed around them, and Riyo slipped on the floor of the bathtub as her legs gave out, but Echo held her securely, pulling her in and kissing her deeply as she came apart in his hand.

Her soft cries reverberated off the hard floors and walls of the refresher, and pleasure coursed down his spine at the sound of them. Kriff, she was so beautiful, so responsive. He loved the way her body felt as she writhed in his arms. He worked her through her orgasm with his fingers, and when at last she collapsed against him, breathless and spent, he held her close, breathing in her scent.

She dropped her head back to rest against his shoulder as her eyes closed and an expression of utter bliss settled across her features. He reflexively lifted his arm off her chest to stroke her face but stopped as he realized he’d reached for her with his right arm, the scomp hovering inches from her delicate skin. She opened her eyes as she sensed the tension in his body.

“It doesn’t bother me,” she said softly. “It’s part of you, and I like all of you.”

“I don’t want to hurt you,” he demurred.

“You won’t.”

Cautiously, he closed the distance, trailing the scomp across her cheekbone. 

“What does it feel like?” he asked, curious if the sensation felt different to her than it did to him.

“Cold,” she replied. “It doesn’t hurt.”

“Does it feel strange?” he asked.

She shook her head. “It just feels like you.”

She tilted her face closer to him and brushed her lips over his jawline, working her way back toward his ear and down the side of his neck. The soft, light touches sent sparks of arousal dancing across his skin, and he rumbled deep in his chest as she twisted around in his arms to continue her progress downward. He felt her hand close around his cock beneath the warm water, dragging over him in unhurried strokes.

She knelt between his knees, gently teasing his balls and the insides of his thighs with her free hand as she worked his cock, and Echo knew he wasn’t going to last much longer. He closed his hand around her wrist, stopping her movements as she glanced uncertainly up at him.

“Bed,” he rasped. “Now.”

She sucked in an audible breath, her eyes wide as she nodded. They climbed out of the bath and toweled off in record time, and then they were stumbling toward the bedroom, and Riyo’s lips were on his, and her hands were roaming over his body, until at last he picked her up and tossed her onto the mattress, following immediately as he pinned her to the bed and began to devour her entire body with kisses. 

He plunged his tongue into her cunt and tasted her tangy, sweet arousal, and he was so kriffing hard he ached to bury himself in her. She kept making those soft, lovely whimpering sounds that drove him to the absolute brink of his control, and as much as he wanted to give her a second orgasm before he fucked her, he thought he might actually die if he had to wait much longer. 

His finger met absolutely no resistance as it glided into her silken, slick warmth. He traced down until he found the soft, ridged spot he was looking for, and then he began to stroke in tiny circles. At the first press of his fingertip, she let out an abrupt cry as her hips arched up off the mattress, and he smiled against her cunt as he continued to tease her clit with his lips and tongue. He braced his scomp arm across the top of her pelvis and pressed her down into the mattress to hold her in place as he relentlessly moved inside her until she shattered with a frantic scream.

“There it is,” he whispered, working her through her climax with his fingers and tongue. “There’s that gorgeous sound. Fuck, I love to hear you come, little one. Prettiest karkin’ voice in the galaxy.”

She gasped for air as she writhed beneath him. He drew out her orgasm, his eyes drifting closed as he listened to those soft, desperate moans that slowly became incoherent begging.

“P—please, please…” she whimpered. “Echo—I need—”

“What is it, darling?” he asked, circling his thumb over her clit and enjoying the way her body jerked in response. “What do you need?”

“You!” she gasped. “Please, I need you.”

Fuck. When she begged him like that, there was nothing he could deny her. He began to kiss his way up her abdomen, over her sternum, between her breasts, along her throat, and at last, as he reached her mouth, he sank into her soft, slick warmth. His lips captured her sigh as his cock pressed into her cunt.

“Kriff, Riyo, you feel perfect,” he said. “Never felt such a perfect fuckin’ pussy.”

She shuddered and wrapped her legs around his hips, pulling him deeper into her. She gazed up at him with lust-glazed eyes, her lips falling open as he took her hard and fast, her breath punching out of her with each thrust. 

He brushed her hair back from her face as he murmured, “Let me see those beautiful eyes. Not a thought inside that pretty head, is there?”

She shook her head. “Only you.”

He kissed her deeply as the pleasure built in his body. He felt her clenching around him, and he knew she had another to give him. He broke away from her kiss, tucking his face next to her ear as he began to whisper absolute filth.

“You like that, little one? You like it when I fuck all the thoughts out of that brilliant, gorgeous brain of yours? When I make you forget about everything except my cock? Tell me,” he growled.

“Yes,” she choked. “Gods, yes.”

“Tell me what you like,” he ordered.

“Fuck! Gods, I like—I—”

“What’s the matter, love?” he asked wickedly. “Can’t string together a few words?”

Her brows drew together in an expression of intense concentration, and he knew she was close. He kissed her neck, raking his teeth across her skin. 

“Do you want to come, Riyo?” he demanded.

She nodded her head.

“Say it.” His hand shook with the effort of holding back his orgasm.

“Yes! Please, Echo, please!”

“Then be a good little doll and come for me,” he ordered. “Now.”

Her legs clamped around his hips, her cunt tightening around his cock as she cried out. It was too much. He thrust deeply into her and came so hard his vision whited out. His entire body pulsed as he emptied himself, and as he slowly regained awareness, he realized he’d sunk his teeth deeply into her shoulder. He released her and licked the bite mark gently.

“Did I hurt you?” he asked, kissing the bruise.

“No,” she gasped. “I liked it—I loved it. Did you leave a mark?”

“I did,” he confessed. “Sorry.”

She shook her head. “That’s not—I love that. Being marked by you. I want to be able to see it for days.”

Holy kriff. Could she be more perfect?

“I’ll keep that in mind,” he murmured. 

He drew out of her slowly and rolled over onto his side, curling his body around hers. His hand drifted down between her thighs, and he began to play with the cum that pooled on her skin, drawing his fingers through it in soft, teasing motions, then gathering it up and pressing it back inside her.

She sighed happily and cuddled closer to him. “I can’t believe I just had a bath, and I already need to shower again.”

Next chapter

[rabbitcruiser]

Craters of the Moon National Monument & Preserve, ID (No. 7)

There are over 600 species of plants known to grow in the park which make up 93 plant communities. When wildflowers are not in bloom, most of the vegetation is found in semi-hidden pockets and consists of pine trees, junipers, and sagebrush. Strategies used by plants to cope with the adverse conditions include:

Drought tolerance by physiological adaptations such as the ability to survive extreme dehydration or the ability to extract water from very dry soil. Sagebrush and antelope bitterbrush are examples.

Drought avoidance by having small, hairy, or succulent leaves to minimize moisture loss or otherwise conserve water. Hairs on scorpionweed, the succulent parts of the prickly pear cactus, and the small leaves of the wirelettuce are all local examples.

Drought escape by growing in small crevices or near persistent water supplies, or by staying dormant for about 95% of the year. Mosses and ferns in the area grow near constant water sources such as natural potholes and seeps from ice caves. Scabland penstemon, dwarf mountain fleabane, and gland cinquefoil grow in shallow crevices. Syringa, bush rockspirea, fernbush, and even limber pines grow in larger crevices. Dwarf monkeyflowers carry out their entire life cycle during the brief wet part of the year and survive in seed form the rest of the year.

A plant commonly seen on the cinder flats is dwarf buckwheat (Eriogonum ovalifolium var. depressum), a flowering plant 4 inches (10 cm) tall with a root system 3 feet (0.91 m) wide. The root system monopolizes soil moisture in its immediate area, resulting in individual plants that are evenly spaced. Consequently, many visitors ask park rangers if the buckwheat were systematically planted.

Wildflowers bloom from early May to late September but most are gone by late August. Moisture from snowmelt along with some rainfall in late spring kick-starts the germination of annual plants, including wildflowers. Most of these plants complete their entire life cycle in the few months each year that moisture levels are good. The onset of summer decreases the number of wildflowers and by autumn only the tiny yellow flowers of sagebrush and rabbitbrush remain. Some wildflowers that grow in the area are arrowleaf balsamroot, bitterroot, blazingstar, turpentine parsley, dwarf monkeyflower, Indian paintbrush, scorpionweed, scabland penstemon, and wild onion.

Source: Wikipedia

[fitnesshub17]

Why Adding Meltamin to Your Routine Can Transform Your Fat Loss Journey

If you’ve tried dieting and exercise but still feel stuck in your fat loss journey, Meltamin could be the natural boost you need. Unlike many fat burners that rely on synthetic chemicals or tough-to-swallow pills, Meltamin comes as a tasty cactus-flavored drink that’s easy to prepare and vegan-friendly.

What makes Meltamin special? It’s the unique combination of 11 plant-based ingredients, each scientifically selected to tackle multiple weight loss challenges. A key player is the Prickly Pear extract (Cacti-Nea™), a natural cactus fruit ingredient known to reduce water retention. This helps minimize bloating and makes your muscles appear more defined — which is especially motivating when you’re working hard in the gym.

Meltamin also encourages your body to burn stored fat by increasing thermogenesis, the process where your body generates heat by burning calories. Ingredients like guarana seed extract and bitter orange fruit extract increase calorie burn even at rest, meaning you’ll burn more fat throughout the day, not just during workouts.

Appetite control is another game-changer. Meltamin includes Garcinia Cambogia and chromium, which help stabilize blood sugar and reduce cravings, so you’re less tempted to snack mindlessly. This makes sticking to your calorie goals easier and less stressful.

Plus, if you often find yourself drained mid-workout, Meltamin’s caffeine anhydrous and green tea extract provide an energy lift that helps you train longer and burn even more calories — up to 500 extra during exercise.

Meltamin isn’t just about fat loss; it’s about creating a healthier, more energized version of yourself, naturally and safely. Whether you’re an athlete, a busy professional, or simply someone seeking a natural way to lose weight and boost muscle tone, Meltamin fits seamlessly into your lifestyle.

Ready to step up your fat-burning game? Explore Meltamin here: Meltamin Official Website

[positivexcellence]

towwn: spring may have officially sprung, but that doesn’t mean the weather *or your skin* are ready to cooperate. transition months can be tricky on your complexion so we rounded up some of our favorite eco face moisturizers for every skin type + need that won’t weigh you down as the temperatures climb up. the best part? the daily moisturizers listed here all embrace organic, clean + ethical sources while avoiding harsh chemicals that are bad for you + the planet. time to let the sunshine in – don’t forget the spf!⁠ ⁠ @kosas⁠ this hydrating tinted gel cream is made with copper peptides + developed with plant-based ingredients. two key ones: sugarcane-derived squalane + salicornia herbacea, a saltwater succulent, which help to plump + smooth.⁠ ⁠ @opulusbeautylabs ⁠ a daily for problem skin, this lightweight brightening formula contains vitamin c+ derived from citrus fruits. the brand uses no plastics and wraps items in recyclable paper only.⁠ ⁠ @ireneforte⁠ a b-corp certified leader in social + eco-responsibility, the brand’s cream stands out as a plant-based daily. it contains anti-aging myoxinol, a unique derivative of hibiscus seeds, plus olive oil, rice protein + the namesake prickly pear, lending hydration to dry or mature skin. ⁠ ⁠ @versed⁠ this best-selling gel rings in at under $20. crafted with high-quality, cruelty-free ingredients like green tea extract + aloe leaf juice that protect skin from free radicals + inflammation. ⁠ ⁠ @sixgldn⁠ with a blend of botanicals + plant stem cell tech, this light oil-based serum is ultra nourishing while protecting against environmental stress + boasting anti-aging benefits.⁠ ⁠ @tataharperskincare⁠ sustainably handcrafted on a vt farm, this lightweight hydrator targets roughness, dryness + dullness.⁠ ⁠ @biossance⁠ this gel offers deep daily hydration with probiotics + plant sterols to soothes reactive skin while replenishing the microbiome. ⁠ ⁠ @goodmolecules ⁠ a lightweight daily with nourishing avocado oil + shea butter. it’s suitable for all skin types + effectively smooths and preps your face for makeup.

[echoesofinsights]

The Secret to Effortless Weight Loss and Long-Term Success (You Won’t Believe #4!)

When it comes to losing weight and keeping it off, consistency is key. Over the years, I’ve experimented with countless diets, but what truly worked for me was focusing on sustainable habits rather than quick fixes. Here are some of the changes that made a difference:

Prioritizing Whole Foods : Cutting out processed foods and replacing them with nutrient-dense options like vegetables, lean proteins, and healthy fats gave my body the fuel it needed to thrive.

Staying Hydrated : Drinking enough water throughout the day not only curbs unnecessary snacking but also supports your metabolism.

Mindful Eating : Slowing down during meals and paying attention to hunger cues helped me avoid overeating and enjoy my food more.

Adding a Game-Changing Supplement : One of the most impactful changes for me was incorporating Matcha Extreme , a revolutionary food supplement that combines matcha green tea leaf powder, spirulina, prickly pear fruit extract, and acerola fruit extract. This powerful blend supports weight management by controlling cravings, aiding detoxification, and balancing blood sugar levels. Plus, it’s incredibly easy to incorporate into your daily routine—just mix it into water or your favorite beverage!

If you’re curious about how this supplement can transform your weight loss journey, check out this link . It’s worth exploring if you’re ready to take your results to the next level.

P.S. Don’t miss out on this opportunity—thousands of people have already seen incredible results! Click here: https://bit.ly/4jZiPk0 or visit this page to learn more.

Disclaimer: This post contains affiliate links. If you purchase through these links, I may earn a small commission at no extra cost to you. Thank you for supporting my work!

[happyshoppingtoyou]

Powerful All-New Nerve Support Formula: Experience Total Nerve Wellness 🌿✨

Are you ready to take control of your nerve health and enjoy a more vibrant, pain-free life? Meet Nerve Fresh, a revolutionary formula designed to support your nerves and enhance overall well-being. This all-natural supplement combines five bioavailable fruit, flower, and bark extracts with essential vitamins and minerals to deliver powerful relief and restoration. Let’s explore what makes Nerve Fresh a game-changer!

What Nerve Fresh Offers You

By integrating research-backed ingredients, Nerve Fresh is carefully formulated to: 🌟 Support Healthy Nerves: Nourish and protect nerve tissues for optimal function. 🌟 Reduce Pain: Target nerve discomfort and promote long-term relief. 🌟 Boost Energy: Enhance cellular energy production for sustained vitality. 🌟 Improve Sleep: Promote deeper, more relaxing rest by calming the nervous system. 🌟 Enhance Wellness: Elevate overall physical and mental health naturally.

All-Natural Excellence

Nerve Fresh stands out for its dedication to quality and purity: ✅ All Natural: Free from artificial ingredients, Non-GMO, and Gluten-Free. ✅ Made in the USA: Proudly formulated under strict quality standards. ✅ GMP Certified: Manufactured in a Good Manufacturing Practice-certified facility. ✅ FDA Registered: Produced in FDA-registered facilities for your safety and confidence.

Key Ingredients That Make Nerve Fresh Unique

Prickly Pear 🌵: A protective powerhouse that neutralizes harmful enzymes causing pins-and-needles sensations. It reduces oxidative stress, safeguarding cells, tissues, and muscles.

Passionflower 🌸: Known for its calming properties, it elevates GABA levels in the brain to alleviate nerve pain, stress, anxiety, and insomnia.

Marshmallow Root 🌿: This soothing plant’s anti-inflammatory mucilage helps ease stress and pain while calming nerve-related discomfort.

Corydalis (Yanhusuo Plant) 🌼: Proven by research to combat inflammatory pain, it promotes tissue healing and nerve relaxation.

California Poppy 🌺: A natural sedative and neuron relaxant that addresses insomnia, migraines, anxiety, and neuralgia, ensuring restorative sleep and reduced nerve strain.

A Formula You Can Trust

Every dose of Nerve Fresh is packed with the optimal levels of these ingredients to ensure maximum effectiveness. Whether you're dealing with nerve pain, fatigue, or restless nights, this advanced formula is here to provide relief and help you feel like yourself again.

🌟 Why Wait? Take Charge of Your Nerve Health Today! Start your journey toward vibrant health and daily comfort with Nerve Fresh. With nature’s finest ingredients and cutting-edge science, you can reclaim your vitality and enjoy life to the fullest.

[tips-from-john]

Herpesyl

🤔 What Is Herpesyl?

Herpesyl is a scientifically-formulated dietary supplement specifically designed to target the herpes simplex virus. It represents a significant advancement in managing both oral and genital herpes by addressing the root cause of the virus. Produced under stringent quality standards, Herpesyl ensures potency and effectiveness.

✅ How Does Herpesyl Work?

Cellular Defense

Immune Boost

Brain Health

Weight Control

Cardiovascular Support

❤️ Benefits of Using Herpesyl

Improved Cellular Defense

Enhanced Immune System

Better Brain Health

Aided Weight Control

Supported Cardiovascular Health

📋 Ingredients in Herpesyl

Herpesyl is composed of 26 natural elements, including herbal extracts, minerals, and vitamins. Key ingredients include:

Passionflower

Prickly Pear

Marshmallow Root

Corydalis

California Poppy

These natural components work together to enhance the immune system and combat the herpes virus effectively.

🤔 How to Use Herpesyl?

Incorporating Herpesyl into your daily routine is simple:

Follow the Recommended Dosage: Take the suggested dose daily for consistent results.

Incorporate into Your Routine: Make it a regular part of your day to maximize its benefits.

📣 Herpesyl Reviews: Customer Testimonials

Jane D.: "Herpesyl has significantly reduced my herpes outbreaks and improved my overall health."

Tom S.: "Since starting Herpesyl, my immune system feels stronger, and my symptoms have diminished."

Emily R.: "This supplement has been a game-changer in managing my herpes effectively."

❤️ Where to Buy Herpesyl Supplement Safely?

Purchase Herpesyl directly from the official manufacturer’s website to ensure authenticity and quality. Avoid unauthorized sellers to guarantee the product’s integrity and benefit from exclusive discounts.

✅ Does Herpesyl Have Side Effects?

Herpesyl is formulated with high-quality, natural ingredients and is manufactured in FDA-certified facilities, ensuring safety and effectiveness. Most users report no side effects, making it a safe option for daily use. However, as with any supplement, consult with a healthcare professional before starting, especially if you have underlying health conditions or are taking other medications.

🔄 Herpesyl Money-Back Guarantee

Herpesyl comes with a 100% money-back guarantee. If you're not satisfied with the results, you can request a full refund within the specified period, providing peace of mind with your purchase.

📋 Customer Feedback & Reviews

In conclusion, Herpesyl has received positive feedback from users for its ability to manage herpes symptoms effectively. For more detailed testimonials and consumer reports, visit the official Herpesyl website. If you’re ready to take control of your herpes health, check out Herpesyl today and experience the benefits firsthand!

Share This Video: • HERPESYL REVIEWS https://youtu.be/uBZVX_lhTZg

Key Sections:

00:00 - Herpesyl Review Intro

00:31 - What is Herpesyl?

01:18 - Does Herpesyl Work?

01:43 - Herpesyl Formula

02:08 - Buy Herpesyl - Official Website

02:52 - Can Herpesyl Cure Herpes?

04:15 - Herpesyl Benefits

04:38 - Herpesyl Ingredients

06:21 - Does Herpesyl Really Work?

06:31 - How to Take Herpesyl?

07:40 - Herpesyl FDA Approved

07:50 - Herpesyl Customer Reviews

08:01 - Herpesyl Reviews Conclusion

08:24 - Herpesyl 100% Money-Back Guarantee

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I hope this Herpesyl review helps you understand how the supplement works.

Remember: Herpesyl is exclusively available through the official manufacturer’s website. Don’t miss out on the special discount!

If you have any questions or need further information, leave a comment below and I'll answer as soon as possible!

Subscribe to Wrestling Best for more honest reviews and health tips!

#herpesyl #herpesylreview #herpesylreviews

The post Herpesyl Reviews was first published on Wrestling Best Channel.

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[e-m-p-error]

Valentino's Clubs' Signature Drinks Part One

Two signature drinks at all of Valentino's establishments are the True Love's Diss and True Love's Kiss. True Love's Diss is gin, sweet vermouth, rose extract, and Campari. It is garnished with rose petals. True Love's Kiss is also garnished with a rose petal and heart-shaped edible glitter. It is a sweet sparkling wine drink with strawberry juice mixed into it. Both drinks have a dash of Love Potion in them.

Bloodsport - Sports Bar; Full bar, 30 Big-Screen TVs + All Sports Packages Available, Full Kitchen

Bloodsport Signature Drinks

Poison Apple - Hard apple cider with a splash of orange liquer

Dark Side - Black cherry martini with a (dyed) black cherry for garnish

Brite Lite - Strip Club; Exclusively Insect Sinners Work Here; Full Bar, VIP Rooms, Drug Vending Machines, Bar Snacks Only

Brite Lite Signature Drinks

Orchid Mantis - Kiwi liqueur, prickly pear vodka, orchid elixir syrup; Velvette Inspired

Lightning Bug - Rum, pineapple/mango/mangosteen/papaya vodka, cognac

Club Hell 666 - Strip Club; Full Bar, VIP Rooms, Drug Vending Machines, Sports Bar-Esque Kitchen

Club Hell 666 Signature Drinks

Angel's Web: Peach mint julep with a hint of strawberry syrup at the top; Angel Dust Inspired

Secret Admirer: Rosé wine, strawberry syrup, rose petals, club soda, and a splash of maraschino cherry juice with a hint of lemon and lemon peel for garnish; Angel Dust Inspired

Dick Heaven - Gay Bar; Only men work here; Full Bar, VIP Rooms, Drug Vending Machines, Free Use Sex Rooms, Attendants Paid Via Tips In Glory Hole Stalls, Traditional Bar Food Only

Dick Heaven Signature Drinks

Valentino Loves A Good Peach - Peach schnapps, mint leaves, strawberry syrup, lime juice

Tender Kisses - Spiked cherry lemonade with a dash of rose extract

Glory Hole - High-End Sex Club; Full bar, Dancefloor, Bathrooms + Glory Hole Stalls, Drug Vending Machines, Pay-To-Play sex rooms/toys/gear/lube available in each room, VIP Brothel Upstairs, Showers, Full Kitchen

Glory Hole Signature Drinks

Teal-quila Sunrise - Raspberry syrup, tequila, blue curaçao, lime juice, orange cognac

Glory Hole Garden - Lavender syrup, coconut rum, blueberry sparkling wine, garnished with a green cherry soaked in lavender syrup, has a dash of Love Potion in it

Heartbeats - Karaoke Bar; Full Bar, Full Kitchen

Heartbeats Signature Drinks

Throat Tamer - Piña colada with a lemony twist

Gold Standard - Classic Bronx cocktail with a dash of tangerine schnapps

Horns - Imp City Strip Club; Full bar, Dancefloor, Bathrooms + Glory Hole Stalls, Drug Vending Machines, Meager Kitchen

Horns Signature Drinks

Bubbly Black Widow - Black vodka, cranberry juice, coconut creme, and brown sugar boba

Love & Sex & Magic - Cherry vodka, kiwi syrup, blue curaçao, maraschino cherry juice, garnish with kiwi slice

Number Of The 63457 - Strip Club; Exclusively Hellborn Work Here; Full Bar, VIP Rooms, Drug Vending Machines, Traditional Bar Food Only

Number Of The 63457 Signature Drinks

Bitter Envy - Blue Curaçao, Midori, Raspberry Syrup, Melon Whip With A Hint Of Chocolate; Leviathan Inspired

Bittersweet Lust - Mangosteen Vodka, blue raspberry syrup, burnt martini; Asmodeus Inspired

NYMPH-O-MANIAC - BDSM Club; Older than Spark Plugs; Full bar, planned scenes for show, rooms/floor space available for scenes among patrons, pay-to-play toys/gear/lube available, bring-your-own-gear encouraged only for dress

NYMPH-O-MANIAC Signature Drinks

Skanque - Apple vodka, apple juice, orange juice, blue curaçao, red wine, rosemary and apples

Lot Lizard - Cherry/vanilla vodka, vanilla cream, garnished with a rose petal and a cherry

Pussy Paraíso - Lesbian Bar; Only women work here; Full Bar, VIP Rooms, Drug Vending Machines, Free Use Sex Rooms, Brunch and Bar Food Only

Pussy Paraiso Signature Drinks

Check Out My Melons - Cantaloupe puree, simple syrup, white rum, maraschino cherry juice, lime juice, seltzer, food coloring

Eelectric Pink - Vodka, chilled green tea, simple syrup, lime juice, mint, grenadine

R3D - Imp City Nightclub; Full bar, Dancefloor, Drug Vending Machines, Meager Kitchen

R3D Signature Drinks

Royale Flush - Black currant liqueur, sparkling red wine, berries

Black Mage - Black vodka, lime juice, maraschino cherry juice

Redlight - Sex Club; Full bar, Dancefloor, Bathrooms + Glory Hole Stalls, Drug Vending Machines, Free Use Sex Rooms, Pay-To-Play toys/gear/lube available in each room, Showers, Full Kitchen

Redlight Signature Drinks

Chica Cherry Limeade - A cherry limeade with amaretto vodka

Chum The Water - Grenadine, pomegranate vodka, blue sugar crystals

Shymmer - Strip Club; Attached to Shyne via a corridor; Full Bar, VIP Rooms, Higher-End Kitchen

Shymmer Signature Drinks

Day Drinking Special: Shymmer's Chocolate Mojito

Night Life Special: Shymmidori Martini - Melon Martini

Shyne - Nightclub; Attached to Shymmer via a corridor; Full bar, Dancefloor, Bathrooms + Glory Hole Stalls, Drug Vending Machines, Sports Bar-Esque Kitchen

Shyne Signature Drinks

Fruit Popper - Grape/green apple vodka, cream, whipped cream, berries, cherries, and apples to garnish, mint; One of those berries also has a surprise pill in it.

Candyland - Cotton candy vodka, birthday cake vodka, Nerds; Beelzebub Inspired

Part Two Here

[theheartlandsblog]

happy macmarston may! i have something very special to celebrate... =) 💛💛💛

below the "keep reading" prompt is a portion of the enormous macmarston fanfiction that i have been working on for a YEAR! it's not finished, but in the spirit of the month, here's a segment for you to read if you'd like. i'm so impatient to get this fic done. i wish i could post this segment on AO3, but i only want completed works there!

6,632 words - john marston/bonnie macfarlane - canon compliant violence - emotional infidelity. enjoy =)

TGCAC. SECTION T1. • DURING THE MISSION "MY SISTER'S KEEPER". • JOHN MARSTON IS ESCORTING MIRANDA, LUISA FORTUNA'S FIFTEEN YEAR-OLD SISTER, TO THE MEXICAN BORDER. • IT HAS BEEN MONTHS SINCE HE HAS SEEN HIS FAMILY, AND WEEKS SINCE HE HAS BEEN IN HIS HOME COUNTRY. • THERE ARE UPON THIS VERY SAME EARTH PINECONES THAT ONLY FALL AND OPEN AFTER WILDFIRES. •

-

in the morning, an early, early morning like the rest of them, john awoke and raised himself up with his filthy elbows and within his first breath he already knew it was raining somewhere out there, behind the cliffs, the mountains. he could smell it - doglike he lifted his face to the meandering wind and huffed deeply, his mouth hanging open, tasting the scent. the cliffs kept the moisture greedily to themselves, however, hemming the clouds in with their brown peaks, and the best the weather could do for them was be determinedly humid. miranda asked him softly if he liked that smell over the dark remains of last night's campfire and he said he did. 

the dust stuck to itself instead of blowing, leaving the trail rather clean and open. on that second day they passed a man on a donkey that knew john by name or face and called out a greeting to him, pride written all over his face for noticing such a passenger. at miranda's amused questioning, he brushed it off. she sat closer to him that day and talked a little more - a lot more, in a loud voice, about her family mostly, and what she wanted to do in yucatan. the four horses pulled them past prickly pear and more dasylirion, took them under the shadows of big grey clouds.

once, one single time they stopped, to feed the horses and themselves. across from where john pulled the trembling wagon over was another such wagon, abandoned for what he reckoned was many years. standing beside it and irritably cropping grass was a beautiful wildlooking horse that did not run off when the human beings extracted themselves off the seat and tested their land legs. as john changed into his poncho, he studied the horse. it didn't run - maybe it was just feral, someone's escaped protégé. a light tan hide that turned darker down the legs, dark brown tail and ears, a dorsal stripe. it reminded him of a horse he'd had long ago and caught kicking and squealing in a land just like this. who goddamn knew what the pinkertons were doing with him now.

at the end of the day they found themselves riding outside chuparosa, like they'd intended to. it was, despite everything, beginning to be a sight john was warming up to. there were a couple memories attached to it now, ones that came back when looking at it. there's the length of wall he shot bottles off of with landon ricketts. there's the tracks that guided that godawful train he'd fired from. maybe ricketts was in there right that second, with whatever business he'd promised john.

"you wanna go in?" he offered, slowing the coach down and gesturing with his hat at the little white city. the young girl was already shaking her head, however.

"i can't. they could arrest me! someone could see me and arrest me, kill us both." she insisted, wringing her braid around her hands. the poor girl's eyes were steely and scared.

john furrowed his brows. "i've been in there a couple times and they ain't hung me yet." he said slowly, deliberately leaving out the part where he'd slaughtered three men like sheep in the road for touching his hat, all within minutes of arriving. "you're just a kid. and i'd come along with you. we could buy some sup - "

"you don't understand." miranda interjected him. her eyes and her jaw set and her brain working, working behind them. "i'm sorry. you don't understand what it's like to be someone like me."

a failure. he felt like a failure. john marston was such a godawful father that he couldn't even briefly soothe a child that wasn't his own and would be leaving in a matter of days. some man. some two-faced, unchanging bastard of a man. "i guess i don't." he admitted lowly, flicking the reins again and speeding them up. chuparosa rotating in their view. "we can just stop a little ways away. ain't no trouble."

at a fork in the road they stopped, right alongside a wooden signpost john had read more than a few times. TESORO AZUL / LAS HERMANAS / ESCALERA. they were near enough to chuparosa's rail line to see and hear the locomotives but not to feel them shaking the ground, and as the last light in the sky faded and made way for a dwindling moon the old cowboy and young fugitive watched in tandem the heavy black clouds of boilersmoke roll on by as the engine was fed to stop. the six horses lolled in the grass together, itching their backs, john's palomino with his long neck up, observing the city. 

they weren't near enough to hear that, but it sprawled across their vision pale and tempting. john was a long way from the days of arthur and hosea hissing the world civilization under their breaths like a forsaken, unprintable oath. so too was he a long way from their graves, and their homes, and his home. he didn't much know where he was anymore. the cowboy leaned against emilio's coach smoking and resolutely pointed away from chuparosa. directly across from it was el ojo de diablo. he watched that. a drag from his cigarillo. another. saguaro cacti and trees still stood along the edge of those ancient cliffs, like so many sentinel soldiers lined up for the kill. another drag. a wet hack into the dirt. fog swept over them all as they slept, a quiet and blue night save for john's tiny cherrylike glow. chuparosa glowed too.

"señor marston? are you awake?" miranda's voice suddenly peeped. he had been laying down smoking his third cigarillo and he gave a full-body jerk when she spoke. his hat fell off his forehead.

"i am now." he grunted.

from the dark he heard miranda shuffling in her bedroll. "we're going to be out here for a while, aren't we?" she asked him plainly. a particularly wet gust of wind blew across their shoddy campsite, carrying spits of vapour that, when they touched john's cigarillo, snuffed it out completely.

"that's right." he rasped, taking pains to try and not sound so goddamn dour for once. his fingers dropped the stick limply to the grasses.

"how long?"

"five days at least." john mumbled. he stretched his feet out in his horribly sweaty boots that he was wearing to sleep, and rolled onto his side. "we done two. we'll - "

miranda's voice cut him off, rising, hissing. "but my boat leaves - "

"i know when it leaves. i'll do what i can, miranda." john silenced her, truthfully even in his vague irritation. without thinking, he'd curled his legs up and inward. his knees nearly touched his chest, just by how long they were. in the anonymity of night he sought with his hands and gathered his knees up and hugged himself tightly. fetal, vaguely born. the scratch of the rough and worn denim and the ever-present twinge in his leg and the two random bullet casings in his pocket and the grit in the crease behind his knee - he could feel it all. sleep started to crawl across his eyelids and he shut them.

"i'm scared." miranda whispered. john squeezed his eyelids tighter.

"i know. stay scared. it'll keep you alive."

upon entering the third morning, john and miranda were damn near immediately set upon by the army. he woke and stretched and fumbled for something to eat while miranda sifted through her accouterments to find her comb, and it was a happy sort of morning, quiet and wide and blue and brown. once emilio's coach was hitched and been spurred into motion john had stopped them, idiot, godawful idiot, to pick prickly pear blossoms and wooly bluecurls in the shoulder of the trail. he twirled the orange and purple flowers around between his gloved fingertips and it harkened back to hand rolling a cigarette but this was nothing like that, only cleanliness and goodness, and then miranda screamed for him to get back to the wagon.

"john! john marston!" she shrieked, and immediately his heart dropped like a dead horse right into his heels, and the gunslinger turned and positively flew on them back to the wagon. dimly, he registered still clutching the flowers. she was in the passenger seat gripping the wood like she'd all but been nailed to it, staring wide-eyed down the hill. 

"quiet, girl! don't holler like that!" john snapped, foregoing chivalry as one often did in situations where he was about to be or was already getting shot at, and scrambled up the side of the coach. "what the hell is it?"

the young girl pointed - "more of them, near the train tracks!" - and he landed in the seat so roughly his breath huffed out of him in a nasty khufh. at the end of her thin and trembling finger trawled a group of seven or eight homogeneous uniformed men on horseback and a collection of three or four more fussing with sandbags. the wooden scaffolding that held up chuparosa's rail was buzzing the imminent arrival of a train and some of their horses were antsy, glowering up nastily at it. they were moving.

"they're on their way! dios mío, they're looking at me!" miranda despaired. one hand wrenched itself off the wood to clutch at her braid. aw hell. john's face contorted into a deep grimace as he took up the reins.

"ye-eeah, they're comin'. you had better hold on." he said ominously, and a bit unnecessarily. then he stood up and brought the reins singing down onto the animals and WHAP! and they were off, careening down the golden hillside.

the soldiers turned to look, as one would do, and he saw them draw their massive and terrible rifles from their saddlescabbards, like teeth, like beasts and snakes unhinging their jaws and unsheathing their fangs. john snarled and his scarred lip pinched and curled and he drew his revolver, abandoning the reins and reckoning speed over firepower, thinking even in the most fleeting of moments, and he reckoned with the eyewatering speed of the coach and the rattling seat and fired three times. one hit a horse and the other soared home into a grey chest and the third took a man's middle two fingers clean off. no time to mourn the animal. no time -

no time; no sooner had he reloaded than they set off after them, moving as one, one united entity. "head right! we will get back to the main road!" miranda called to him. all he could do was wince and pray the four horses would know what to do, swiveling and firing in rapid succession. when the horses realised they were heading directly for a wooden bridge they howled and wrenched the wagon right, and something went flying out of the back, and john wormed completely around in the seat, leaning over the back, one hand on his hat and the other firing, firing.

in a flash they drove under the bridge and the army flowed after them, bloodthirsty. mexico was a thirsty country. "i've got the coach! keep going!" miranda's voice suddenly, blessedly filtered in, thank god. the sound of the reins split the air in time with his bullets. he reloaded, fired, killed a second. días and the ricketts mare were thundering crazily beside the coach and running for their dear lives. john gasped hotly at the air and threw himself down flat to reload, his mouth opening and closing.

in what looked like a watery slow goddamn motion he saw a bullet fly past miranda's head and miss her by a hair's width. "oh, my god! they are still chasing us! get RID of them!" she shouted clear as day. bitterly, he clawed for his rifle. when he rose he rose and was already firing and a soldier pitched sideways off his galloping steed and his head pitched the other way. their chariot of war went flying around pale rocks in pale sand and rattled through a corner, and another life ceased to exist when it rounded after them.

a spoke of the wheel, right under john's shoulder, exploded in splinters as a bullet tore through it. there was something coming out of his mouth, some disgusting remark that would have had javier in stitches, and he aimed down the retreating road at the three oncoming men. CRACK - CRACK - CRACK - and their returning fire seemed to curve around him - and días wailed and shoved the wagon hard - and john marston killed the final three soldiers and left them tumbling to the dust.

miranda, goddammit, is she ok? without a second wasted john flipped about and all in one movement took the reins from her, snapped them over the horses' backs and checked her over. she was breathing hard and staring straight ahead but she wasn't bleeding and she looked strong. she was strong, he realised. looking at that girl of fifteen john thanked his stars that the gang was dead. they'd have snatched up a girl like her, a whole family like hers. potential, miranda had. she had potential. she was lucky. miranda finally glanced at him, and her eyes were clear and solid and bone dry.

for a long while after they pressed that coach hard in silence, until the horses foamed and shook. when they finally stopped that wild ride, the sands had turned white. the pair spent the rest of the day in a shaky adrenalin crash, stopping briefly to water and feed the horses and check on días and then pressing on again. the palomino was perfectly unharmed.

"you such a delicate little old bitch, ain'tcha?" john muttered fondly into his lowered ear, as he searched him for bullet holes. he got confirmation when the stallion huffed and pressed the weight of his huge neck into john's offered chest. then they rode, they rode.

miranda clambered into the back with her skirts bunched up at her knees to hand john a jug of water without stopping the coach. finally, the exhausted girl fell asleep among her scarce things. john was quiet. no whistling, no talking to the horses. he didn't look at her. the wagon rolled through chalky white paths in between raised, sunbrown mesas in miniature. and there were seabirds on the air. surely they were close.

when john finally caught a glimpse of the united states of america across the san luis river, his throat seized and his breath stuttered. only just, only barely, but it was there and my word, it was there. it had been a good couple of weeks since he'd been in america. without even seeing the river, however, he knew it was different and he knew what it was. it looked much the same as the portion of mexico they were in, dry, warm, wrinkled and seamed, but it was his, or he belonged to it, one way or another. emilio's wagon rumbled up the sands. not a half-day's ride away visibly twisted the rolling and sparkling line of water.

by the time a peachy sunset started to ripen, miranda awoke. peering over his shoulder at her, john reckoned she seemed better. taking her hair down from her braid to comb it again, gazing softly at the countryside. the hooves of all six horses beat upon the trail and it lulled john, soothed the stinging still-raw wound of losing his ranch, and then his country. it was open still, rotting still. the pair set up for the night deep in creosote bush and right smack-dab on the border between perdido and punta orgullo. they were close to the water. maybe a fifteen minute ride. john was nervous, excited, a braided rope of both offered to him by his own heart, and standing in his ribcage there holding the rope he knew not whether to climb somewhere with it or strangle himself. it felt strangling, anyway. he knew he wasn't going back there any time soon. again he raised his face to the air and sniffed it, tasting the water, and above him in that same air floated clouds lined in goldleaf from the sunset.

to catch dinner, john decided, rather cautiously, to go fishing. he got real nervous around water. but the horses needed to drink, besides. holding the reins of five goddamn animals at once and riding the sixth, a whimsical sight he did not miss miranda's tittering laughter at, he rode the quiet little ride it was to reach the shoreline and concomitant country. it was riddled with snakes that días eyed rudely. ironic. the horses pulled excitedly for the water and john let them go and tied their reins to each other and watched them line up military style along the edge. ripples arcing out from where their tired forelegs were submerged, arcing out from their dark muzzles sucking and breathing. 

"y'all feelin' peckish?" he muttered to the surface as he cast out his line from his battered fishing rod. he hadn't bought a new one since the year nineteen-oh-four.

reckoning with what little shadow he had in the fading dull light, keeping it off the water as best he could and never once by god never once relaxing this goddamn close, john marston caught five little mackerel-type things he hadn't seen before in rapid succession. the fish gave him a fleeting joy. he wished he could draw them, but he knew he wouldn't. even if he had that journal. after his thrashing bluish grey prey was dumped whole and unscaled into días's saddlebag, john took his poncho and boots and socks off and rolled his jeans up and cuffed them and sat with his legs out and swirled the filthy garments in the water. one hand always gripping the shore, buried in the gritty sand mixture, and the droplets spinning darkly off his stallion's whiskers, and the sun fading and the world greying, and america bedding down in the dark, soon to be unseen.

barefooted he rode back, the boots and socks cradled in his lap and the poncho slung wetly over días's hindquarters. miranda was waiting for him and when she saw him and his herd she smiled and giggled again and motioned for the fish. thankfully, she'd started a fire while he was gone, and hadn't gotten herself kidnapped or killed or any other nonsense. the coach was parked behind her and upon the scratchy wood jumped the jagged shadows from the flames and behind it the tall cacti, older than sin, cradling the stars. a treeless section of country. 

"lemme see the map, kid." john muttered, slinging his wet clothes down to the dust with loud slaps to dry by the fire. the man and child exchanged the fish and document. wearily he lowered himself to the ground and squinted at it, tilting it towards the fire. "yeah, we'll be there in two or three days."

"do you think it will be waiting still?" miranda asked meekly. she'd sourced silverware from her baggage - god, even that was a luxury these days, john took a fork gratefully - and had speared on it a little piece of mackerel. 

"i've no idea. depends on those folks you know." he said honestly. he ate a chunk of the mackerel while it was still hot and painful and steaming from the fire but he didn't care and went back in for another. "we're makin' good time, anyway. still got our hides on. ain't been flayed and all."

miranda shook her dark head and sighed, such a mature gesture. "it's been awfully close, though!" she exclaimed. john sat, nodded and thought yes it sure as shit has, and kept quiet. she shuffled about and ate some more fish and looked thoughtful. then across the fire they made eye contact and she smiled sagely. "i trust you, john marston. i think we will be ok."

she's a far cry from a couple-a days ago, john thought again, to when she'd begged him me equivoqué, voltéate, and he knew she'd be alright in the yucatan with a complete certainty. it felt better not to talk so he didn't and he wolfed down another halfcooked fish before quite suddenly remembering spices did exist out in that great big frontier. 

languidly he rose and retrieved his saddlebag, taking the whole thing off días's drowsing form and sitting with a puff in front of the fire with it. rifling through it awarded him nothing of the sort. two old newspapers ripped and torn and some small thing that was edible maybe four weeks ago and loose bullets and the paper he'd bought with luisa and his duster coat and a few bottled medicines were among the things he dredged from that creaking leather cesspool, but herbs were not. he moved onto his satchel, faintly frustrated, a subtle indignant warmth just touching along his neck. out of his satchel he unearthed dozens of sprigs of dried flowers that cracked and disintegrated in his touch.

"¿tienes un amor?" miranda asked him all of a sudden. john glanced up. her chin was nestled on her knees and her hands knitted about her legs. her voice was lively, sweet.

his jaw set into a hard line. "what?"

"a lover. a sweetheart. ¿una esposa?" she clarified. and oh, oh, that hurt, that hurt too, worse than the ranch, the aching deadness inside him, the wounded animal lashing out, the stray cur-dog, the mutt. john put a protective hand on his satchel and tried not to snap at her. it was not her fault. she didn't know.

"oh. sí. ¿por qué?" he said, his voice clipped. 

she gestured towards them by raising her chin briefly. light dancing upon her cheeks and fingers. one hand outstretched now and holding a mackerel over the flames. "tienes tantas flores, en paquetes, en el papel." and with gruff and indelicate hands he attempted to sweep the dead flowers away, flushing at her observations. they were useless by now. they rolled and clattered like bones and a few caught sparks from the fire and coughed a weak smoke. then she raised her eyebrows and nudged her head in the direction of john's messy satchel again. "¿para ella?"

he automatically moved to pack it all up, to stuff the paper and the mummified plant stalks away, but something made him pause. he was staring at the fire. the leather of his belt creaking as he held his pose, frozen half bent over, primitive. she was a good kid.

"...no, son para - son - um - ah, i'm sorry." john tried, stammered, huffed out his nose like a bull and shook his head. the fire crackled joyfully, started to thaw him on the inside. "i don't know that much spanish."

"it's ok. just talk." miranda fortuna brushed it off, her voice as warm as the flames.

john looked up, looked at her, and thought back to - well, it could only have been a few weeks ago, to meeting the old man named billy west under the boughs at stillwater creek, and the bittersweet insistence of his own ancient heart. he talked. "they're not for her. i was asked to gather flowers by a man in the states for his wife."

"but you do have one?" miranda inquired, the most cheerful interrogation he'd ever been a part of. she was leaning towards him with a wistful look on her young face in the dancing lights that reminded john of her sister.

"yes. tengo una esposa y un hijo y una hija en..." he tried, and trailed off. he didn't know why he was telling miranda about that. he didn't know. he wanted to. it didn't matter. "um, paraíso. en el cielo. mi hijo se llama jack, he's - él está vivo. tiene quince años."

his stomach flipped and wavered, and his eyes flitted to and from her, undecided. but miranda only shuffled happily, very obviously pleased with herself. "thank goodness! i was worried." she celebrated, around a mouthful of fish. "you have so much paper, you should write her."

like it was the most natural goddamn thing in the world. john leaned back like the words had tangibly pressed him backwards. he scoffed and, insouciant, started to pack his things into his satchel. he leaned and spat into the fire. but the words kept touching him and slipped in-between his cracks and unmended pieces and started to hold on. it was goddamn useless. when was the last time he'd written abigail? the old cowboy rose up onto his knees and slung his satchel over his neck and tracked it with his hand until it settled in its proper place on his hip and then he fixed her with a curious gaze and his eyes burned hotly in the semidark.

"you're the romantic sort, aren't you, miranda? it runs in the family?" he said, again thinking of luisa. what a curious sort he'd fallen in with. in the silence she'd moved to eat what little was left of the fish but snapped smartly back to attention and tried to press her hand to her collarbones despite it holding her fork.

"oh, yes, i can't help it." the girl said proudly. john scoffed again and this time it was almost a forgotten brotherly sort of thing and he rose and packed and hefted up his saddlebag into his arms and he'd thought she was done talking and for that some normalcy had finally started to peter back into him but while he was slinging it onto días she called to him.

"i can deliver it to the train station in the states. what is it called, benedict? i can slip right across the river. it won't be any trouble." she offered, the sound of her voice bouncing about the creosote, bouncing into him. john did not turn around.

"gee." he said simply, stunned. días's sides rose and fell. "thank you. i guess i will. ain't got nothin' else to do."

she told him then how to press the flowers in newspaper or other papers to dry and preserve them during his travels that would no doubt take him elsewhere and to great and wonderful places and she told him that he must have had a lovely mother who had taught him to care about even the lowly things such as inconsequential plants and she told him how she'd get to benedict point and she traced the route on his map with the handle of her fork. john was impressed by how studious she had obviously been during their journey, and at her apparent literacy. crickets chirped loudly and he slept to their song and dreamed of something he could not remember when the morning and consciousness came.

particulate matter of every kind and all eons old twinkled in the pale sand they rolled across that was as blinding as snow and the furthest thing from it. the smell of the water was constant, a harbinger of the end. john was on edge, on the edge of something - and his wariness paid off when, after not even an hour after he and miranda had broken camp, they came across a woman in white standing by an empty wagon in the side of the trail.

she saw them coming, and stepped abortedly into the hot packed dirt, then shuffled back. "¡americano!" she yelled, waving a hand.

"john, look, look!" miranda took him by the shoulder and pointed at the woman. he was stiff. he did not move under miranda's grasp. 

"americano, hermana, help chelo, ¡por favor!" the woman kept shouting, leaning out of the nick in the brown rock that clambered on either side, the nick she had wrestled her cart into. dirty and frail looking, still waving. john gritted his teeth and flicked the reins. the horses pulled them level with her.

"we can't stop." he grated out.

miranda's mouth snapped shut, then opened again. she twisted against him and he shut his eyes tightly and flicked those goddamn reins. "we have to, she needs help!" the young girl pleaded, a note of urgency creeping into her voice, and her sharp elbow dug into john's stiff shoulder in place of her hand. she was climbing over him to look at the woman.

the coach rolled past. she was calling, calling, calling into the harsh dry wind. "mi carreta eh - ahm - no work! ¿me puedes llevar a mi pueblo? ¡señor! ¡hermana!"

miranda's knee collided harshly with his ribcage. "miranda. we can't stop." john snapped, his eyes prying themselves open. she froze, hanging halfway out of the seat, and he looked forward, forward down his nose at the dust, the desolate country. the woman was still calling. slowly she settled back down into the seat. 

he tried glancing at her. she would not look away from him. she huddled in on herself and stared at john from the passenger seat, staring, staring. he could feel her looking at him. john tensed the muscles in his neck and jaw, first with intent, then without, felt them flex and ache and he narrowed his eyes and drove the coach through the complete silence until finally he broke and threw his hands up, exasperated.

"what if she was gonna rob us?" he tried, bringing his hands down with a smack. 

"we don't know that!" miranda instantly shrilled back. yeah, she'd been waiting for this to start up. there was sand in john's teeth. in the corner of his eye she hovered, acrid and scared and constantly looking over her shoulder back the way they'd come. it was never easy, this conv8ersation.

"i've been held up a hundred times. i know the look." john said suddenly - and he was lying. he'd robbed and been robbed and killed and been killed and done it all honestly and dishonestly but he was lying. "we have to reach the port. we didn't have the time to spare. still don't. don't you ask me to stop this wagon, miranda. we can't be too careful."

"i - i -" miranda stammered, and wrung her hands, and john felt in excruciating detail a bead of sweat track down his neck and soak into his red neckerchief and he was begging her in his head to stop, 'cause if you keep it up i'll turn around and kill all three of us, and thank god, she slumped and finally crossed herself. "dios mio. i'm sorry." she muttered.

no sound anywhere save only the wind. "i'm sorry too." john made his voice seep into it, be borne upon it to pollute and stink. "it's the way it is."

the country was all the more desolate that fourth day. horridly hot and the temperature steady and flat in both shade and sun and john's arms itched and prickled. he hacked off the side of the coach and in sun that strong even his spit had a wobbling shadow as it flew. another army roadblock crouched blackly along the coastline made them turn unexpectedly. miranda directed him left in a sad voice, told him to follow the railroad until she told him otherwise. they scuttled off the coast all eight of them like so many dried out crabs and slipped into the rocks.

after a short but excruciating ride on the devastated carthorses, they came upon the railroad, the very same that eventually ran to chuparosa. the tracks were bleached to a pink in that mexican sun, and reluctantly rusted. alongside it the telegram poles shuddered in the heat where they jutted crudely out of the land. like a knife unsure of itself and the effects of its wound unknown yet to it. no amount of ease they brought to modern life could quite erase the unease in john, bred into him, taught in infancy and never forgotten in age. steadily uphill they rattled, passing two trains. each time, their bullish clouds of dust and the jittering tracks foretold their arrival.

the traveling vagrants were granted the treat of watching the second train pass the united states and mexico border across the bridge, and even on their time crunch the coach's speed faltered, just slightly, just enough to watch. frontera bridge swayed perceptibly, and all the crows passing time upon it took off at once, and the engine howled and the smoketrail was light and grey and the long headlight cleaved the evening and cut out the six horses and two human beings in a brilliant yellow.

for the night they stopped right under frontera bridge, and john was aching, had been aching all day, his skin strange on his body, his teeth unsettled in his mandible. they both puttered around the fire as it got going and it ended up weak and pale and eventually they settled down in their spots across from each other. john marston's satchel was heavy on his hip, heavier than any iron. the aching nonstop and sending pulses of pain into his eyes. they'd gotten their stopping point godawful late due to the detour and he already knew it would be a grueling minimal hours of rest and he should really just go to sleep.

he stared into the flames sitting crosslegged and slumped over and smoking absently. he had no business thinking as much as he did. his mind conjured up horror stories of abigail starving in some dingy jail cell or consorting with some incarcerated man or dead and jack being handed a piece of paper with her inutile name scratched upon it. it was a waste of time.

do not think. he reached down and stirred up the contents of his satchel until he found a piece of paper and a pencil sharpened by his knife, the same he used to kill with. with crude movements he splayed the page out over his knee and then slowly put the pencil to the page and wrote the first line.

dear miss macfarlane.

their fire was meagre and spat and shuddered. his head shot up from the page at the noise, fixed upon the flame. he was being a better neighbour to her, to the whole family. no one could give him an earful about such a goodhearted thing. he wrote. i hope you and mister macfarlane are doing well at the ranch. i recall you mentioning you wished to travel one day. i am in mexico, due to foolish efforts i won't bother you with detailing, but maybe this letter will -

he paused, teeth clutching at his lip. no, that sounded stupid, like he didn't know what his own letter was supposed to do. at once john violently scratched that last portion of the sentence out and instead replaced it. so i will tell you about what i've seen. under the crude graphite tip the scratching was loud and ratlike. miranda suddenly looked up and began to watch him keenly over the fire, smiling, shuffling on her heels. he did not deserve this rapt little audience. 

slowly, he returned to the page, the cigarillo curling daintily at its end. i think you would like it. i met landon ricketts coming into town, of all people, if you are familiar with the name. i know your feelings about gunslingers, but he is a fascinating sort of man.

he could feel miranda's eyes boring into him. it would have been endearing in another world. his head tilted slightly in thought and the greasy black hair swept across his nose. i also met a family of mexicans which i am helping across the country and one of them is posting this letter in return. they're strong people. it is hot m -

"¡la carta de amor para tu esposa!"

john looked up at her quite suddenly, sharply. there she was, beaming with approval, her hands clasped by her chin. he was silent. in the complete void of noise, he suddenly realised someone had tied bells to the inside of the bridge and they were tinkling slightly in whatever wind, a tinny, lonesome sound. something compelled him to pluck his cigarillo out of his mouth and forcefully lay it on the ground next to him. he was not going to see this girl again. he felt...

"no es para ella." he said plainly, the words spilling off his tongue like terrified cattle off a cliff. "i don't know where she is. i don't even know if she's allowed to get letters. i haven't seen her or my son in months. this is a letter for someone else."

miranda's hands stayed clasped by her chin, but her eyes grew wide. firelight twisting in them. john stared her down unblinking and rigid and he did not know goddamn why and she opened her mouth to speak twice, failed both times. their campsite was so godawfully exposed, paths on all sides, mourning, he's in mourning, that's what it was. a cart pulled by two oxen with a little family in it clattered by on those paths. a dog was following. he was not doing anything wrong. god forbid he want some fucking company. 

his hand felt about in the dust and finally took up the cigarillo and he placed it slowly between his cleaved lips like he was smoking for the first time in his life and he bent back to the letter. it is hot most days, and the rains are refreshing. i have not had the chance to visit my land in escalera. but if i got my way, i would hope one day to show it to you and your father -

"it's a secret love. something forbidden." miranda managed to get out, her voice enthralled.

"pssh. i don't know. something like that." john drawled, his cigarillo bobbing. he was feeling every single emotion all at once at maximum capacity and not a single facet of his body betrayed it. he was rather proud of his self-control. pulling at the cigarillo with only his lips, just his black mouth visible under his black hat, he crossed out that last line. i doubt it's much good for ranching. he scratched instead. a familiar territory, marked in self-loathing.

i miss the united states and everyone on your ranch. i hope soon to be back.

yours, 

john marston

the assassin attempted to fold up the letter, fumbling with such a delicate action, dropping it once and savaging the left corner. heated, he relented and tugged off his heavy gloves and he folded it properly, turned it over in his huge, dirty hands, blew smoke out his nose in twin puffs. he - he didn't even remember how to address it, it had been that long since he'd participated in society. subconsciously his eyes flitted to miranda.

she was just as he'd left her and peering into his lap where the letter lay with no shame and with a wide and wondering innocence and behind her the horses were cropping the harsh grass and further still the scaffolding of the bridge stood completely black and sharp. no more trains. no moon. colourless everywhere save for that goddamn fire. finally he wrote on the back in his brutal scrawl. 

FROM JOHN MARSTON. TO MAIN HOUSE MACFARLANE RANCH.

the next breath he took was warm in a way a cigarette could not even pretend to understand. the old cowboy passed it around the side of the fire to miranda so as not to burn it and she took it with both slim brown hands and held it to her chest like it was a child. now, she was looking into his eyes.

"yo me encargaré, john." she whispered.

"gracias."