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soxcietyy · 1 month

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Temptation

Your dad is tired of you bringing home these unworthy men. None of them being fit to take care of you or to be given the family business since you are the only daughter. He decides to find you someone fit to be your husband and receive help from the father of the church. That’s when you meet Yuta, though just because he goes to church doesn’t mean he’s much of a saint

Mafia, murder, violence, mentions of religion, (will contain other things in the next chapters)

Chapter 9

You offered the maid your help to clean up the mess the next day. Yuta on the other hand told them to not let you lift up a finger but how could you let them do all the work? This was basically your fault to begin with. If you handing ran away then he wouldn’t of done this.

Sitting a the dinner table you watch as servants come and bring you breakfast. Yuta had told you that he wouldn’t be able to join you because of work. So now you sat here alone eating. Leaving you to think and have your thoughts consume you.

You couldn’t stop thinking about that meeting. They were talking about territory’s, money, and the law. Could they be doing something illegal? There’s no way right? They’re powerful buisness owner that had all the money they could want. If people found out they were doing illegal things then that would tear their reputation.

Yuta couldn’t possible be involved in such things right? He was a good boy… one that went to church and was praised by many. Then the memory of him shooting your best friend on your wedding flashed in your mind.

You stood up abruptly and stalked out of the dinning room towards his office. You couldn’t just sit here and contemplate such thing. You need to know the answer to what he really does before you went crazy.

Opening the doors to his office you see him sitting there with a man. You freeze thinking this was bad timing. Maybe you should come back later, or maybe ask him at dinner.

Before you could take a step back Yuta dismissed the individual quickly. The man looked a bit taken aback but did as told. You swallow hard as you watched Yuta make his way towards you. He analyzed your face with every step he took. Trying to read you so he could be prepared for anything.

"Yes angel?" He hums.

You stand up right quick and look at him in the eyes. He couldn’t see you as a frighten little girl. You had to put your foot down.

"I want to t-alk"

Welp so much for going in this with confidence.

"Right, come on in." He says leading you to his desk for you to take a seat in the chair where the other gentleman was sitting in not too long ago. Taking the seat you watch as he sits down in his own.

It was almost as if he had a scary shadow hovering over him making the atmosphere feel suddenly heavy. No wonder everyone that met him looked frightened.

"At the meeting… you guys weren’t talking about stock."

He raises his right brow as he rest his chin onto his hand. He sat there in silence recapping the conversation that was made at the meeting.

"Job…You want a job right? How about I give you one for the next 18 years? Maybe more depending how many we ha-"

"Yuta" you interrupt him.

He was trying to brush off the topic again. This wasn’t the first time he’d done this.

"I don’t think that’s something you should worry about Angel. Look how about I order some plants for you to put around the house. Maybe new dresses? Or how about some makeup?" Yuta says as he takes out his check book from a drawer.

"You’re doing illegal business, you’re a criminal!" You finally shout.

He froze as those words fell out of your mouth. He slowly placed the pen down and looked at you with those stoic eyes.

"And?"

Your eyes widen seeing as he actually admitted to it. Was this what you wanted? What now? Technically you still had no idea what he was doing but it was something at least.

"So stop..." You say quietly almost sounding like a whisper.

He lets out a laugh before he looks at you with loving eyes.

"You’re so adorable y/n. Let’s go get you a cute night gown and maybe a new purse too." He says standing up.

He walked passed you as he made his way to the door but you had other plans. As his back was turned at you, you decide to sit on his desk. All over his paper work. You grab a bottle of wine that sat one the corner of his desk. He turned to look at you with a smile.

He probably thought that you wouldn’t do it. That you didn’t have the guts to face him.

Then you did it. You poured it all over his desk. All over your clothes causing it to stain. All of his paper work ruined.

"Come here right now."

You look at him and swore you saw one of his eyes twitched.

"Make me."

It took him no time to reach you and grab you to pull you off the desk. He had a tight grip on your arm as he pushed you onto his chair.

"I’ll make you come alright."

He leaned in to kiss you to shut you up before you could say anything to him.

He was aggressive, like a starving animal devouring your lips. Shoving his tongue in your mouth forcing you to follow his flow. He held you down making sure you weren’t going to run away this time. It was a long make out session before he pulled away causing you to gasp for air.

As you cought your breath he grabbed the phone that was on his desk and dialed a number as he unbuttoned his shirt. He slithered right out of his his button up quickly as he got on his knees and pulled your skirt up.

He smiled as he caught a sight of what he’s been wanting for so long. His long fingers slipped inside of you as the other ones unbuttoned the buttons on your white blouse.

wine all over them.

"Yes sir?" Someone finally spoke.

His hot mouth left your breast alone so he could respond to the person on the other side of phone.

"Everyone outside and guard the door. Nobody is to enter the house until I say so." He says before hanging up and throwing the phone to the side.

The cord recoiled making it hang off of the desk as he continued to give attention to your breast. Licking and sucking until they felt sore and sensitive.

Before he could dare go any further there was a loud knock at the door. He simplify ignore it and swore under his breath as he continued to suck.

Going from polite knocking to loud banging non stop.

Yuta continued to ignore but at last gave in. He ran his hand through his hair as he let out loud sigh. Grabbing you he lifted you out of your chair and pulled your skirt down for you and buttoned your blouse before fixing himself up.

He made his way to the door and swung it open to reveal one oh his men panting at the door. He looked up at Yuta with wide yes and shaking. Your husband seemed to have a surprises look on him. You peer to the side trying to take a good look and when you do you see the man holding something. Red liquid dripped onto the floor slowly making a mess for the maids to clean later.

He slammed the door shut. He looked at you as he averts his eyes from the window to you.

"Angel can you stay on here until I come and get you? Kind of having an emergency and I would appreciate if you stayed put." Yuta says as he begins to walk out and shut the door behind him.

You may of not gotten everything you wanted to right now but you had another way to get it.

_______________

Yuta didn’t know if he should be angry at his men for interrupting him moment with you or not. Then again having one of them show up with a decapitated head at your door was also not good.

It took him a second too long to remember that you where here too.

He wouldn’t have known what to say or do if you saw something so traumatizing.

Walking outside with everyone else he was lead to where the rest of the corpse was. It didn’t take long for the smell to hit him. That sweet horrible smell of death that he had encountered too many times.

How could things like this keep happening at his home? Obviously he already knew who it was. Angelo was probably furious about things not going his way. That didn’t mean he had to go to such lengths.

If he really wanted to he could call out a full on war on that man but I was best to stay peaceful. If Yuta were to show that this really did affect them then he would continue on with the tactic. It was best to pretend like it was nothing serious for now.

From the looks of how everything has been happening it seems like there’s going to be more security. Especially when you’re home alone. He’s also going to have to replace these iron bar fence with bricks. May not look so great but it’s for the best.

"Bury him and double the people on each post tonight." Yuta says as he walks back inside with a cigar in his hand.

He lights it up before stepping inside to see that the mess was all cleaned up. These girls worked quiet and quick without a complaint. Maybe he should give them a bonus for them to stay a bit longer.

Going back to his office he sees you with a book in your hand. Seemed to be one about business.

"alright let's go Angel, ill treat you to anything today." Yuta says as he grabs your hand and strings you along.

"What about you treating me with your attention?"

He stops and looks at you confused for a moment. This had to be an interesting request.

"Alright, what does my Angel want? I can give you all the attention in the world."

"I want you to agree on doing anything for me. You can’t take it back or say no when I request it." You cross your arms.

What a silly little thing to ask for. What could it possibly be?

"What is it?" He asks.

"Yu! You’re not supposed to know until that moment." You roll your eyes.

There you go again with that little nickname again. Everytime you said his name like that he felt weird. As if you casted a spell on him that forced him to agree to anything you said. You didn’t need to make such an agreement like this, all you had to do was say his name like that with a pleading look.

Obviously he wasn’t going to tell you that.

"Yes yes I agree to your little terms and conditions. You have my word." Yuta says knowing it wouldn’t be anything terrible.

You’re a good girl, you would do no harm to an animal.

You latch your hand onto his in a happy mood and look up at him.

"I think I feel like one of the happiest girls alive right now." You smile.

You smiled….when was the last time he saw you like that? With no anger or resentment? Because it felt like eternity. He wasn’t going to let this moment pass.

"Did you ever try out the makeup I got you on our wedding day?"

That was a horrible thing to say.

You had him sitting in the chair as you tested out the new products. Swatching them on his skin and putting glitter on his eye lids. He could tolerate this. Nothing wrong with a little color to make you happy. Unless it was lip stick. He refused to put such a thing on.

What would his guys think if they saw him in such a position? Stooping so low for his wife’s happiness.

"I really love how this powder is looking on you Yu, how about we try a gloss? It has no color in it."

Yuta lets out a quiet sigh as he looks at the door hoping nobody would barge in anytime soon. He complied to your little antics. He was just happy you weren’t fighting with him or running away anymore.

If it were up to him you would be chained to the floor and locked up in here all day. It’s the only place he deemed safe enough to keep you. Unfortunately you would not be happy with the idea so he could not go on with it.

"My father told me that he’s going to be coming over today. Since you know he hasn’t been here at all. He wants to visit us." You say as you push his hair back.

Visitors… such a nuisance to have. All they do is eat, yap, and criticize others. Especially if it’s the mother in law.

Yuta didn’t even know you still kept in touch with him. He was pretty sure the agreement they made included for him to keep out of your way. He must be an idiot if he was still lurking around you. Then again it was so easy to convince him to let you be his wife.

All Yuta had to do was pay 100k plus buy a few stocks from that shitty wine company. Old man was jumping with joy when Yuta offered him that. Truly an embarrassment to man kind.

"Alright." Yuta replied as you wiped off the makeup with a wet rag that sat in a bowl.

If someone where to offer Yuta that for his daughter’s hand in marriage he would of blow the man’s head of with a rifle.

….

There was no way he just thought about the future. Obviously you are his wife that’s supposed to bare his kids but he’s never thought of it like that. He’s never cared about that… he’s always lived in the moment and didn’t think of having a family. But just now he became overprotective over someone who doesn’t even exist yet.

His stomach twisted the more he thought about it.

"You okay? You look sick Yu. Could you be coming down with a fever?" You ask him.

"Yes I’m fine, when is your dad coming over?"

"In the morning he said he was going to drop by in the afternoon."

Great. Yuta mumbled under his breath.

It didn’t take long for him to come over. He knocked at the door repeatedly until Yuta opened it. He had an angry look on his face and was breathing heavily. Surprisingly his wife was nowhere to be seen. He must of came straight from work.

"You! Your men almost killed me!"

Yuta puts his hand on his chin and then remember that he had forgotten to tell them about his father in law coming over. They probably thought he was a trespasser and tried to take him out. So unfortunate that it didn’t happen.

"Shouldn’t of came." Yuta says as he looked at the man’s ruffled shirt.

"Your a bastard, just like that stupid clan your from. All of you are the same!" He says as he looks inside the house, eyes darting all over. "Where’s y/n? Don’t tell me you have her locked up somewhere. That poor girl forces to marry you."

He was all nice and polite when you guys wernt married yet but all of a sudden the act was gone.

"All because her stupid broke father sold her off to some horrible bastard. What’s even worst is that her father was on his knees once he heard a small offer of money."

The man gritted his teeth and pushes Yuta so he could get through.

He called out to you loudly.

You appeared on the stairs in no time. Wearing a beautiful gown. This seemed to have calmed your fathers nerves down because his shoulders became slack.

Yuta eyes him up and down as he approached to embrace you. Holding you so tightly that your skin tone was becoming discolored.

"Show me a tour of the house! I have to know if you’re living comfortably and in good conditions." He tells you.

Of course the old man would think that he had you living in a horrible state.

Yuta followed along but a few feet away from you guys. You ended up showing off the kitchen, bathrooms, dinning room, library and more. Yuta wanted to obviously give you guys space but he had a feeling that the old man would not keep his hands to himself. He would probably snatch anything small enough to fit in his pockets to sell off later. Especially now that you where taking him into the bedroom.

His mouth fell wide open when he stepped in. It was probably ten times as big as his master bedroom.

"What do you do with so much room?" He asks

"I do so many things in this room with your daughter. Sometimes it isn’t enough and we have to take it down stairs." Yuta smirks as he looks at you.

Your face became a bright pink shade.

"You disgusting monster, do you have no class?!" Your father yells. He took a deep breath before proceeded to talk about the house.

He mostly asked questions about her. Where do you eat? Study? Sleep? What side of the bed is yours? What time do you do this? What time do you do that? It was really boring and unnecessary questions. Sounded more like an interrogation.

Eventually Yuta grew so tired of his presence that he mentioned it was lunch time and that he should go home and eat with his wife but he ignored Yuta. Instead he took a seat at the table and said that he would prefer to stay and eat with you.

It didn’t matter if they brought his food cold or his drink too hot the stubborn man still sat here eating his meal as if it was the best thing ever. He should have slipped something in his drink. He should have done SOMETHING but you would know exactly where to look if something happened to your father.

"So are you always here? Do you ever leave the house or allow my daughter to go out?" He asks.

Yuta stops chewing his food and looked up to see that he was actually being asked something.

"We’re always together no matter what." Yuta says bluntly.

"Ever think of letting her be her own person?"

"Every think of minding your own business? "

You let out a laugh caught to stop them from arguing.

"Father it’s been so nice having you over but me and Yuta have an appointment in an hour and have to prepare to leave." You say.

Yuta looks at you surprised to hear a lie come out of your mouth. Could it be that you could feel the tension? Were you trying to help him out or your father?

"Oh y/n you guys can go and I’ll just stay here until you get bac-"

"Absolutely not." Yuta cuts in.

You let out a nervous laugh as you put your hand on ver your fathers.

"Father you can come another time with mother! It’s so sad that you didn’t bother to bring her."

Something didn’t feel right. Something was off and Yuta couldn’t quite figure it out.

AN: Iv come to terms with the fact that I literally can’t catch my own grammar mistakes. I once turned in a paper report to my professor that had "ass" instead is "as".

#yuta okkotsu #yuta okkotsu x you #jujutsu kaisen #yuta okkotsu x reader #jjk x y/n #yuta okkotsu x y/n #jjk yuuta #yuuta okkotsu #yuta okkotsu smut #yuuta x you #yuuta x y/n #yuuta smut #yuta x y/n #okkotsu yuuta #yuta x reader #jujustsu kaisen x reader #jujutsu sorcerer

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silverskye13 · 8 months

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(about the latest drabble): I'm sorry, Welsknight's code of honor says what

Gotta love Chivalry!

Welsknight in RnS is trying is ready best to be a good knight, but he has no church to swear fealty to [unless he builds one himself] and no Knightly Order to train and be ordained with [unless he builds one himself] so unlike Helsknight, who sought out a church in hels and got knighted the Ye Olde Fashioned Way, Welsknight follows the rules of Poetic Chivalry. The more he and Helsknight have fought it out, the more Helsknight's tenets have been incorporated into Welsknight's idea of Chivalry [and Helsknight's tenets themselves are based on Chivalric Laws anyway] but still, their personal creeds are a little to the left of each other.

With that little rant out of the way, the Chivalric Laws I'm using for Welsknight are augmented from Léon Gautier's Ten Commandments of Chivalry:

Thou shalt believe all that the Church teaches and thou shalt observe all its directions.

Thou shalt defend the Church.

Thou shalt respect all weaknesses, and shalt constitute thyself the defender of them.

Thou shalt love the country in which thou wast born.

Thou shalt not recoil before thine enemy.

Thou shalt make war against the infidel without cessation and without mercy.

Thou shalt perform scrupulously thy feudal duties, if they be not contrary to the laws of God.

Thou shalt never lie, and shalt remain faithful to thy pledged word.

Thou shalt be generous, and give largesse to everyone.

Thou shalt be everywhere and always the champion of the Right and the Good against Injustice and Evil.

For the sake of RnS, which has vague gods and saints in hels, but only the gods and saints players make everywhere else, for Welsknight, all tenets about God and Church are Hermitcraft the Server and what it represents. The laws and teachings of Hermitcraft are its pledges to creativity and fairness and prosperity. He will defend it to his dying breath, because it's his home, and the living, breathing part of the universe that he and his friends create in. And any enemy of Hermitcraft is his personal enemy as well.

[I like to imagine the reason Welsknight didn't get involved in the HC x Empires crossover was because he was busy making sure the Empires crew wouldn't start a war he personally had to finish lol]

He really is trying his best.

The problem with Chivalry though, is it is inherently about crusades. Chivalric poems, while filled with a good bit of manner and courtly love, are also filled with the ideas of self sacrifice for a ruthless Good, a Good that roots out evil, with tragic grace. A Good that, ultimately, crusaded against whole countries, because Good wouldn't abide by Evil. Chivalry needs something to fight for. Otherwise it's just a basket of nice, convenient morals, a horse and a suit of armor. So you can imagine, in his own subtle, misguided way, Welsknight is actually quite happy hels exists. What good is a knight without something to fight for? Or better yet, to fight against, because it is very convenient to define yourself by everything your enemy isn't.

And his enemy isn't kind to him. His enemy must be a liar, because what he says about his worthiness as a knight can't be true. And his enemy must be cruel, because he seeks him out to hurt him. And his enemy must be relentless, because he hasn't given up yet. And his enemy is Helsknight, and everything Helsknight stands for, and apparently, Helsknight stands for quite a lot, including other people, and other people can be fought.

(He and Helsknight, despite every kick and scream to the contrary, really are a lot alike.)

#answering asks #anonymous #redstone and skulk #welsknight #helsknight #chivalryyyyyy #gotta love chivalryyyyyyy #the first time i read an arthurian novel i remember thinking it was a bit cruel #the way the characters are punished for things they couldnt know because they were chivalric missteps was always interesting #very folkloric #rns asks

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nerdygaymormon · 5 months

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This might be a weird question, but do you know if the church still considers masturbation a sin? Recently had a temple recommend renewal and answered yes to living the law of chastity (as I see it, as a bisexual woman not in a relationship), but now I'm beginning to doubt. I've always thought of it as not breaking the law of chastity, but now I'm wondering if I was being to technical about it. I don't feel guilty for it, but I do feel guilty for maybe lying on the interview, if that makes sense. I don't know, I'm just confused.

We can get the answer to your question from the Church’s General Handbook. Go to 38.6.5 Chastity and Fidelity.

This section says Chastity means having sexual relations only with your spouse. What does “sexual relations” mean? Google says “sexual behavior between individuals, especially sexual intercourse.” Or put another way, sexual activity involving 2 or more people.

If you’re not involving anyone else, it’s just you alone, I don’t see that masturbation fits into this discussion about chastity as far as the Church’s handbook goes.

————————————————————

Masturbation is absent from the scriptures or on important church sites about chastity.

For example, there is a section of gospel topics on lds.org where you can get a brief overview of our church’s beliefs. Chastity is one of the topics. “Chastity means not having any sexual relations before marriage. It also means complete fidelity to husband or wife during marriage.”

The page goes on to say that to help us abstain from sex before marriage, we should avoid things that awaken our sexual feelings, such as controlling our thoughts, staying away from porn, and not doing the following with a person we aren’t married to: “passionate kissing, lying with or on top of another person, or touching the private, sacred parts of another person’s body, with or without clothing.”

Notice masturbation is not mentioned at all.

————————————————————

Christ taught “by their fruits ye shall know them.” Masturbation yields positive results, especially for people like you and me who are not in a relationship.

“Orgasm has been shown to help with relieving stress, aiding with pain (especially helpful for menstrual cramping), regulation of hormones and prevention of certain cancers.”

Our marital status does not change the fact we are people with sexual needs and drives – which are God given. Be willing to trust yourself.

————————————————————

Here’s something else that may be helpful. When you feel the Spirit, then you’ve been forgiven or are being made clean, or don’t have a major sin you need to repent of, “for the Spirit cannot dwell in an unholy tabernacle.” If you’ve felt the spirit recently, you’re doing just fine.

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goodnightmoonvale · 7 months

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I saw your tags; please tell me about the rioting pants from Orderville.

Okay so

To fully understand this, I have to go into a bit of Mormon history. The first thing you need to know is that at some point in the early days of the church, Joseph Smith receives a revelation that he calls "The Law of Consecration".

Essentially the revelation says the law of consecration was for the support of the poor and to ensure that all members would be "equal according to his family, according to his circumstances and his wants and needs" (see Wikipedia), and involved giving all your property to the church, and the church redistributing it to everyone as they saw fit.

(Yes, this sounds a lot like communism. Yes, this is where you learn that the Mormon's church's long-standing hatred of communism comes not because living communally is bad, but because doing it without god is bad. This information comes as a surprise to many conservative Mormons who are deep in the libertarian brainrot and think private property is somehow sacred.)

This went through a LOT of variations over the years, as what exactly being "equal according to his family, according to his circumstances and wants and needs" is open to a lot of interpretations. One of the strictest variations occurred in a little Utah town called Orderville.

Orderville was set up completely communally - all land & resources were held collectively. Everyone ate together in communal dining halls. Everyone was allowed to take clothes and personal supplies as needed. (I recommend you look at the Wikipedia article for Orderville, Utah to learn more about how it all worked; it's actually super fascinating)

One of the ways to keep costs low and to ensure equality was that everyone's clothes were the same. Everyone's clothes were handmade from the same patterns, with the same types of cloth, with the same few variations in color. In fact, it was often joked that you could recognize an Orderville resident by their straw hats and home-made clothing.

Some teenage boys were not too happy about this - they wanted stylish clothes. So one boy started saving up little bits of discarded wool until he had enough to sneak away, sell the wool, buy himself a new pair of storebought pants, and come home.

Apparently these pants made quite an impression at the next community dance-- one account says a girl literally ran up to him and kissed him because she thought his pants were just that sexy. Understandably, the other boys were insanely jealous; the parents were also shocked and appalled by the impropriety, etc etc.

It caused such a scandal and uproar that the town leaders confiscated the pants, saying they were "community property", and the town seamstresses took them apart to use them as a pattern for future pants.

Which you'd think would be the end of it, but people were only getting new, updated pants if their old ones wore out, so then kids started sneaking out to the grindstone and wearing their pants out on purpose so they could justify having new ones.

Once that was found out, the town leaders finally heaved a big sigh and said "fine, I guess everyone gets a new pair of pants." So once everyone got a new pair of fancy pants, order (and uniformity) was restored. (See this fantastic article from the Great Basin Museum)

#just mormon things #the orderville pants riot #weird mormon history

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pedropascallme · 11 months

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The Good, the Bad, and the Better

Pairing: gunslinger!Joel Miller x f!Reader

Summary: "You stretched your legs when you got off the train, wondering how so much sitting could make your joints so sore. You had one bag, which was, truthfully, more than enough. You fit your entire life into the handheld leather case, and it felt both freeing and deeply, deeply woeful."

Content: Mentions of death, uuuh US cholera epidemic? gnc!Ellie because I said so. That's all for now. If I missed anything please let me know!

AN: hi I’m trying something new….felt the need to get Joel involved with a sexy lil cowboy AU. Full disclosure this was inspired by @qwimchii and the AMAZING gunslinger!ghost series she’s been writing (go support her work!!). Lmk if you guys want more of this in the future, I have….plans….for this story, to say the least, so treat it as an intro of sorts?

Jefferson Territory (Colorado), September 1847

The executor of your father’s will wore small bifocals, perched gently on the bridge of his nose. You bounced your leg, perhaps unladylike, but it was all you could do to steady your mind in the tight office that smelled of wood and purified alcohol.

You clutched your handkerchief to your chest, fresh out of tears to wring from your eyes and waiting to get the bequeathing over with. With breaths so deep they threatened the lace of your corset, you were able to look up at the executor, who had been kind enough to wait for you to give him the ok to continue.

“Alright, miss?” His voice was nasal, but not condescending. You nodded. “To my daughter, my only child and carrier of my good name, I leave my land in Texas; doing so in the hopes that she will live out her life there, with kin.”

The man stopped reading and looked up at you. That was all he had for you.

You hadn’t been expecting any more. Hadn’t even considered you would be getting any land—an unmarried woman with land, though, was sure to catch the attention of a gentleman, and you’re sure that your father had known that.

“Thank you.” You mumbled to the man, dry lips cracking under the moisture of the tears you had licked up. “Am I meant to sign anything?”

“No, miss.” He seemed sorry for you, and you felt a flare of anger at him in that moment; you were sick of hearing people speak to you so slow and soft, as if the weight of their words would knock you down and bury you along with your parents.

It hadn’t even been one year since the death of your dear mother, the woman who had brought you up like a proper lady, who had taught you your prayers, and the proper way to tie your hair up so that God would smile upon you along with the sweet church-going boy on the ranch next to your own home. Your family had been naïve in thinking that the cholera outbreak wouldn’t reach them in the west. When word first spread in the papers, it was a small number of people in the City of New York; your father was quick to dismiss the cases as God’s wrath upon those who didn’t appreciate the frontier, too busy with their fancy jobs and big-city values to go to church. But your mother fell ill that summer, vomiting and lethargic, and it wasn’t long until you watched the priest say his prayers over her coffin.

You admired your father’s will to keep going, until you didn’t. He kept busy, and you thought he would work himself to death—maybe that’s why he seemed so calm when he got sick, compared to the panic your mother had in her eyes in the days before she died; he knew he wouldn’t be on the mortal plane much longer, soul too deeply intertwined with your mother’s and ready to go where she went even in death.

So here you sat, in the same mourning clothes you had worn for the past 11 months, listening to this law man explain that he would be taking care of any other business that had to do with your father’s measly estate. You thanked him, giving him a polite curtsey before you exited his office and found your way back onto the street.

You didn’t have much left in Jefferson Territory. You made the short walk back to your family’s home with your head down, ignoring the coaches that passed on their routes and the women who spoke in hushed tones when they saw you walking all by your lonesome. "Poor thing", “just a girl,” “should have been married off sooner.” You wanted to bite back at them, tell them you’d rather die along with your parents than ever abandon your family and run off with some boy just to mother ungrateful children who would in turn run off themselves. You were happy, at least, that your parents had died in your presence; you couldn’t imagine the suffering had you been gone from their home, the pain after being there with them when they took their last breaths was bad enough.

You walked through the door of the house, careful to close the door and lock it how your mother always told you—even without her present, you knew she would appreciate the little things. You appreciated them, too, now, more than you had ever thought you would.

“Auntie?” You called out to your father’s sister, hearing a bustle in the kitchen and smiling for the first time that day; your aunt was a wild woman, never married and never sitting. Her kindness was perhaps the only thing that motivated you to wake up every morning without your parents. You found her kneading dough, moving her whole body over the clay-like clump with a force, upper half covered with flour. “Auntie.”

She turned, noticing you for the first time since you arrived back home. “Welcome home, little one!” She greeted you, and you watched her run a hand over her forehead to combat the sweat running over her eyes, leaving a trail of flour over her brow. “You doing alright?” She turned back to her ball of dough, leaning an elbow into it, anticipating your answer.

You just sighed, pulling up a chair close to her and studying her movements, unsure of how to tell her just how alright you were; it was like you had no emotions left, your heart a husk keeping your body moving with nowhere to go. Not nowhere, maybe.

“I got land in Texas.” You were quiet, and her movements stalled.

“Texas?” She quirked a brow and slapped her hands together, sending flour to stray over her apronless front. “Who got you land in Texas?”

“Papa.”

“Your daddy had land down there?”

You shrugged, “That’s what the lawyer said. Said it’s all mine, now.” You hadn’t yet absorbed the news, unsure of what to do with yourself or your earnings.

“War’s bad, little one,” your aunt huffed, not angrily, but with a concerned look spread over her face, “not much use with Texan land until Mr. Polk can figure out how to appease the folks down south.” You nodded, aware of the conflict and uneager to get anywhere near it. “Still…” Your aunt looked at you now, the black fabric of your dress bunched up over your knees with the specks of white dust she had covered you with.

“Still?” You questioned, feeling a wave of anxiety cross you.

“…Nothing left for you here.” She spoke quietly, barely above a whisper, looking you dead in the eyes.

“You’re here!” You felt trapped, scared, but mostly confused. She of all people would be the only one to condone such an outlandish notion—dropping everything and running off to a war-torn territory away from everything you ever knew—but you had hoped she would appeal to her more realistic side in this particular matter and tell you to forget the whole thing before dinner.

“I’m not staying, little one,” her eyes were pleading, “got my own life, got people in other places to look after.”

You felt tears well in your eyes, appalled that you had any water left in your body to cry out today. “I don’t want to leave…I don’t want you to leave.” You felt yourself begin to cry again.

“I’ll never leave you,” she whispered, the ghost of a smile on her lips, “but I can’t stay in Jefferson Territory…got plans back east.”

“East?” You practically yelled it, offended that she would leave the life your extended family had built in Jefferson Territory despite the unease that churned in your stomach whenever you thought of living out your own life in the same spot you'd known since you could toddle.

“East.” She was calm, balancing your abject terror. “I’m sure you’ve noticed I’m not exactly cut out for…roughin’ it.” She emphasized the last words, using the accent your father had worn so proudly. “I got friends in New York—going out to be with them…it’s safer there, easier.”

You were enraged; the one final person you trusted was abandoning you for a life you couldn’t ever imagine. It was safe here, you were safe here—with her, and your mother, and your father. “Well, I’m sorry I’m not a big city fool like you!” You felt yourself tremble, “I’m sorry you’d rather have it easy than live the life God gave you!” You were seeing red, standing now to lord yourself over her and make her seem as small as you felt. It didn’t work, and she looked at you now like everybody else did—full of pity.

She let you cry, sobs taking over your body and forcing hiccups up your throat. You shouldn’t be mad at her, you realized, couldn’t be mad at her; she was a grown woman, with wants and needs, and maybe someday you would be, too.

“Take me with you.” You pleaded through sniffles, wiping your nose on your sleeve in a move that your mother would have tutted you for. Your aunt stayed silent, placing a hand on your head to smooth over the hair that had come undone in your rage.

“I would,” she explained, “but I don't think you...I don't think you'd enjoy it any more than you enjoy it here. Not now, at least. Not yet." The pity in her eyes faded to reveal the compassion she had for you, and you nodded into her chest when she pulled you into her, acknowledging the truth she had spoken. You wouldn’t know up from down in a place like New York; too many people, too much smoke and noise. You let her hold you for as long as she would, soothed by the hand she combed through your hair and the way her heartbeat thrummed in your ear. Maybe someday.

“We’ll get you a train ticket,” she murmured above you, chin resting on the crown of your head, “I know a fella in Texas—real gentleman, cross my heart—and I know he’ll have a place for you away from all the ruckus.”

“Cross your heart?” You asked her to promise once more.

“Cross my heart, little one.”

~~~

Texas, October 1847

You stretched your legs when you got off the train, wondering how so much sitting could make your joints so sore. You had one bag, which was, truthfully, more than enough. You fit your entire life into the handheld leather case, and it felt both freeing and deeply, deeply woeful.

Your aunt had arranged for her associates (her words) to pick you up, show you around, and help you to your new home, but she hadn’t given you much of a description; you had no idea who you were looking for, or what they might look like. All she had done was give you a name. You felt small, already sweltering in the Texan heat and feeling out of place in your black mourning gown. Maybe it would be ok, given the circumstances, to forego the entire outfit, and simply wear a veil, but you felt that the only thing grounding you was the way you were dressed, the reminder of why you were here in this dusty sand-and-brick station.

You looked around, not minding the jostling of the people passing you to get to where they needed to go. You tried to identify anybody that might look as if they were waiting on a lonesome orphan, but all you saw was a pool of sweaty businessmen and women in large hats.

Attempting to find a map to get the lay of the land, you turned a corner, and collided into the chest of a tan man with long black hair and a hint of a mustache.

“I’m terribly sorry—” You felt yourself go bright red, already a nuisance and you hadn’t been in Texas for all of ten minutes.

“Woah, there,” the stranger tipped his hat down to you, offering a wink and a toothy grin, “no harm done, ma’am.” He patted down the front of his vest, smoothing out any wrinkles that remained from the collision. “Y’look lost.”

“I am lost,” you straightened your posture, trying not to seem so inconsequential compared to those around you, “Um—I’m looking for…Mr. Joel Miller?”

The man in front of you laughed, and he flashed the same toothy grin again. His laugh came from his stomach, and you watched him take his hat off to fan himself after he calmed down.

“Found her, El!” He called over his shoulder and a shorter, much younger boy appeared; he was wearing the same style of hat but was much paler than the man who had yet to introduce himself. His clothing gave away how young he was—that, and he was shorter than you, with a babyface and nary a whisker on his chin. He looked almost feminine up close, and was clearly quite a few years your junior.

“Oh, I’m sorry—you’re Mr. Miller?” You closed the confused ‘o’ of your mouth to form the question.

“No, no no no—I’m Tommy Miller,” he put his hat back on, “Joel’s my brother.” You nodded, trying to appear as though you understood the series of events that were taking place in front of you. What an odd introduction to the people whose care you were in. You had never questioned the company your aunt kept—she had her life, and you had your own, much more conservative one. Still, you began to think that these men had just as little an idea as to what you were doing here as you did. “’N you’re Tess’s girl.”

“I’m her niece,” you clarified, “my parents are dead.” You winced when the words came out, unsure of why you felt the need to share that with a man you had just met. Surely he must have been aware by now, and if he wasn’t, why would he care?

Tommy let out a low whistle in lieu of an apology. “Best get you goin’ then, girly.” He turned on his heel, encouraging you to hurry after him through the crowds. El grabbed your sleeve in a manner that, although gruff, was clearly meant as reassurance.

“Mine are, too,” he spoke softly, and his voice was similarly feminine to his face. When you gave an inquisitory glance at him, he continued, “My parents. They’re dead, too.”

“Oh,” you tried to think of a way to make the subject more lighthearted, aware of how tiring it got to hear constant apologies for something out of everybody’s control, “so you’re not—”

You didn’t even have to finish your sentence; El had anticipated your question from miles off. “Do we look related?”

“Well…no…” You muttered, embarrassed by how obvious the answer was.

“They’re like…well,” the younger boy mulled over everything he could say, but instead placed his arm in yours and laughed, “you’ll see.”

~~~

The ride back to the Miller’s land was long and bumpy—or maybe it just felt that way with Tommy looking back on you and El to ask various questions and soothe any anxieties, though it wasn’t as much help as he had thought it was. You taught El cat’s cradle with a string you had found in the cart, and it amused you for long enough before you switched to cards instead. El was shocked to hear you didn’t know how to play poker, and tried to teach you blackjack before Tommy reprimanded him for trying to corrupt you; you opted for go fish instead.

The cart came to a short stop in front of a rundown shack. There was a horse tied to a post with three feed bags in front of it—the extra two, you assumed, belonged to the two horses pulling the cart you were in.

Tommy helped you down, and you were careful to pat down the front of your dress when your feet touched the ground, not wanting to look unkept in front of new company. El jumped down behind you, making quick strides towards the door of the cabin. You and Tommy followed suit, with the older man taking your arm to lead the way.

When the door opened, El swore. “Jesus H., Joel!” he jumped backwards when a large figure stepped over the threshold and onto the dirt outside, “Scared the hell out of me!”

“Language, young lady.” The man in the doorway was tall, with a chest and shoulders to match his height. He was older than Tommy, and had the salt in his beard and dark hair to show for it. He wore the same hat, but didn’t have a full outfit on, with only the pants of a gentlemen to go with his undershirt and heavy boots.

So this was Joel Miller.

You were so focused on the new addition to the group that you almost didn’t catch what he had said to El—“young lady.” Tommy, still holding your arm, sensed your confusion.

“Well, cover’s blown,” he laughed, and El rolled his eyes. Taking off his hat, you watched thin, curly locks of hair come down to frame his face, and when you looked under the dirt and grime that coated his skin, you saw a little girl.

“El’s short for Ellie,” El laughed, tossing the hat in the air and catching it before walking past Joel to go inside.

You were almost more confused now than you had been.

“Little girl living with two grown men, wearing men’s clothes?” Tommy read the look on your face, trying to offer an explanation, “she’s a natural at bein’ a boy—‘n it draws less questions.” You nodded.

Joel continued to stare at you, and you couldn’t help but feel exposed to him despite your body being covered in the modest dress you had on. He was riddled in scars, and his tan skin flexed under his white undershirt; he looked so masculine, and it frightened and excited you in a way you decided to repress. He strolled over to you, taking slow steps and examining you with dark eyes that looked like honey under the Texan sun. He stopped in front of you, and you let go of Tommy's arm to curtsy, unsure of what else to do under his gaze.

“You’re Tess’s girl.” He said it with more confidence than Tommy had when he found you. Joel didn't bother returning the friendly gestures of introduction you had extended, shifting his weight on his heels and letting his eyes drag over your face.

“I’m her niece.” You clarified as you had at the train station.

“I know, darlin’.” He smirked down at you, and the way it was painted on his face made him look almost predatory. You offered a weak smile in return, hoping he would mistake the blush creeping up your face as a sunburn. He grunted something that sounded like approval.

Joel turned around and walked in after Ellie, leaving you with Tommy.

“Don’t worry,” Tommy took your arm once more, “he’s like that with everyone.”

You didn’t know if you liked that.

#pedro pascal #pedro pascal fanfiction #pedro pascal x reader #pedro pascal x you #joel miller #joel miller fanfiction #joel miller fic #joel miller x reader #joel miller x you #tlou #tlou fanfiction #the last of us #the last of us fanfiction

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starscourgc · 6 months

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so i’ve been thinking about Willem’s actual goals with ascension and insight. theres a note you can find in the lecture hall that says “Master Willem was right. Evolution without courage will be the ruin of our race.” This sort of reads as Willem having the ‘courage’ to take the leaps needed for ascension, most likely experimentation, which makes sense considering the Garden of Eyes enemies you encounter outside of Byrgenwerth. But the way it’s written is confusing; if anything the Healing Church, Laurence, and even Micolash were the ones who had the ‘courage’ to do what was needed to ascend (more experimentation, abandoning Byrgenwerth for their own institutions, etc.). And also, who would have written this? Out of the main school of thought within Bloodborne Willem was definitely the most careful regarding what needed to be done for evolution.

So then I looked into the LastProtagonist retranslations of the original Japanese text, to which the note instead read:

ウィレーム先生は正しい。情けない進化は人の堕落だ

“Professor Willem is right. (The) wretched evolution is man's downfall.”

That adds a completely new context. The ‘wretched evolution’ mentioned in the text could be interpreted as his fear of the Old Blood that Laurence believed in, and the transformation of men into beasts is what is destroying Yharnam. But here me out, okay:

Ascension to me exists on a sort of spectrum, and adding more insight or blood furthers your transformation from just being able to perceive the truth around you to a genuine metamorphosis into an entirely new being. I think Willem was fervently against the extreme side of ascension, and instead wanted to just perceive the Great Ones as they were. Insight is tied to being able to see and understand concepts and beings larger than you, and before you bring in the concept of insight being used for a physical transformation it makes sense that “lining the brain with eyes” would primarily involve increased perception. Willem never wanted to be a Great One, rather he just wanted to understand them in a way his mind could understand.

The schism between him and Laurence was not because of differing paths to ascension, but fear of evolution as a whole. Laurence flies too close to the sun and thinks he can become a god, rather than just a general difference in theory thar could’ve worked hand in hand.

I think this also adds an interesting new perspective to Willem’s adage. "We are born of the blood, made men by the blood, undone by the blood. Our eyes are yet to open." It's interesting how directly blood is associated to humanity in this, and so I think it's Willem’s way of reminded laurence that our blood is what makes ur human and gives us or humanity, and coveting god blood and injecting goes completely against the laws of nature. As for "our eyes are yet to open", i think it old either be read as Willem saying that humans are not ready to ascend and our hubris blinds us from that fact, or even better that humans are not made to ascend bc we live on the basest of planes, that is our place in the universe. The most we can do is at last perceive the mysteries around us, not able to grasp it but isnt it enough to just know what these things are? Yknow?

This would also mean that Micolash’s school of thought aka using insight to complete a physical transformation would make it a sort of hybrid of Willem and Laurence’s theories. He believes in the use of insight, but also in a more hands-on approach to reaching godhood via experimentation that Laurence was more inclined towards, and would’ve even partaken in since he was apart of the Choir at some point in time.

#bloodborne #meta #provost willem #laurence the first vicar #micolash host of the nightmare #i lowk copy pasted one paragraph of this from discord bc i am Too lazy to rewrite it.#but yeah im chewing on this rn….#fuck willem tho lol dont take this as me agreeing e him

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changingplumbob · 5 months

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Romero Household: Chapter 1, Part 2

Kayleigh comes to visit with an unexpected offer and the couple head to the romance festival.

Marta’s first language is Spanish so she is teaching Keira (and me) some common phrases Ay dios mio: omg equivalent Buenas tardes: Good afternoon Carino: Term of endearment for a loved one Gracias: Thank you Mi familia: My family Por favor: Please Qué?: What? Si: Yes Te amo: I love you

Keira: Mum! You didn’t say you were coming

Kayleigh: I didn’t think I needed an appointment to see my daughter and future daughter in law

Keira: Of course not but Marta is feeling unwell

Marta: Buenas tardes Kayleigh. I’ll be fine, Keira is just… overreact

Keira: I mean your parents died from flu complications, can you blame me for being nervous when you get sick?

Marta: No. But look, I’ll have more tea

Kayleigh: I’m so excited for the wedding, have you decided on a venue yet

Marta: Si. I was wanting to have it in the church in Willow Creek

Kayleigh: All the way there?

Keira: It’s the oldest church in the save mum, it’s got history

Marta: Si. Our marriage is not just us, it’s the watcher as well. A church is the right place to honour that

Kayleigh: I always admire your devotion. I’m sorry we couldn’t meet your parents

Marta: Their spirits will be here tomorrow. Keira and I would like all of you to come over for dinner. Then I can tell you about them, and you’ll be able to know them

Kayleigh: If you want us at your celebration then of course

Marta: Si. You are part of mi familia now

Kayleigh: And will our family be growing soon?

Keira: Mum! You sound just like dad

Kayleigh: We’re not getting any younger. Life is short and your dad and I would like to have some grandkids. Every time Aaron sends Harvey a cute picture he almost goes green with envy

Marta: Keira and I do want kids one day

The couple look at each other, feeling the warm fuzzy feeling of home

Kayleigh: I just wanted to say, well your dad wanted me to say, whatever expense there is, we’ll pay it

Marta: Que?

Keira: Are you sure mum? I mean it could be quite expensive for us. Whether we get a sperm donor or try that new science method that allows for same sex pregnancy to start, the cost will likely be high

Kayleigh: I know but your dad and I can’t take the money with us to the forever save. We may as well use it while we’re here

Marta: *smiles* we’re going to be parents carino

Keira: I mean eventually, there’s no big rush is there? I’m only 23

Kayleigh: Wait until after the wedding at least or the dress won’t fit

Keira: We’d need to wait until after honeymoon as well. And even then-

Marta: Gracias Kayleigh, it’s very generous. Will you let us have some time to talk about it

Kayleigh: Of course, I’m just glad you’re receptive. I best be off, don’t get up, I can show myself out

Kayleigh leaves and Marta turns to Keira.

Marta: What’s wrong carino

Keira: I… Sweetheart I want kids with you, I do, but… *softly* so soon?

Marta takes her hand and kisses it lightly.

Marta: There’s no rush but think about it por favor? I’d carry them so it shouldn’t interfere with your work much. I’d like to grow our familia sooner rather than later

Marta goes for another nap while Keira scratches her geek itch playing party frenzy online with Joey, James and Alexander.

Joey: Do you not want to be a mum

Keira: I do. I just… I spent so much of my life waiting for my person and now that I’ve found her I want time with just us. Is that selfish?

Alexander: I don’t think so. Remember I stole my person

James: You can’t steal what is given to you love. Wait- what car am I again?

Joey: The blue one. No, Rilian! Zio Joey is trying to see the screen!

Keira: What’s he doing this time

Joey: Trying to find new places to hide his half eaten meals. I better go tell Devin, later bros *drops out*

Keira: I need to go to the romance festival anyway. Will I see you guys there?

James: Saturday is date night

Alexander: I have plans that involve you, me and a posh restaurant. We'll get a nanny for Milton

Keira: *laughs* have fun being wealthy

Alexander: Always

Marta: You’re letting me out

Keira: I would never try pin you in. I’m not-

Marta: I know carino, I was joking

Keira: Somehow I imagine I couldn’t keep the romantic in you away from this festival even if I wanted to

Marta: So *coyly* what do we do here

Keira: What a leading question. You know sweetheart some would say you’re a tease

Marta: Taste me and find out

Keira smiles and pulls Marta close in a passionate embrace. They stay tangled in each other for a while but pull apart before Marta can get too breathless.

Keira: You need rest still

Marta: Now who’s the tease

Keira: Come on, let’s get some of the tea

Marta goes to the fountain and finds herself humming along to the music. She loves singing but she knows it’s probably best to rest rather than sing a ballad. She’s deep in her imagination when *clanks* the cup she picked drops to the bottom of the fountain.

Marta: Ay dios mio!

Stranger: Are you okay

Marta: Si, gracias

Marta sheepishly fishes her cup up from the fountain and looks around, hoping no one else has seen the blunder.

Marta: See, I’m drinking tea. I do listen to your advice

Keira: *laughs* I suppose it’s prettier than the tea we have at home

Marta: You’re the pettiest thing anywhere carino *blows kiss*

Keira: Stop, you’re making me swoon!

Marta: My daily goal. Have you thought more about what your mum said

Keira: Yeah. I guess… I just don’t want to share you with anyone

Marta: *sighs* Keira, no one belongs solely to someone else. Tell me you understand that? You need to share every person in your life. I’m becoming your wife but we won’t be each other’s property

Keira: I knew it would sound like that. I don’t mean I want you to myself in a controlling way, I mean, I’m worried kids would steal all your attention and I’d be forgotten

Marta: Carino… let me get us some food

Marta grabs them some Ramen and comes back to the table.

Marta: I know that your first girlfriend said she got bored of you but I promise, I’m never getting bored of you. Te amo

Keira: I love you to

Marta: If you want some time as just us before having kids then we can, bueno? But when we get around to having kids I will not love you any less

Keira: Okay, I’ll try work on my feelings. I do want to see what beautiful kids we can make

Marta: Me to!

Marta: Gracias for the date

Keira: I thought your spirits needed lifting before tomorrow

Marta: Tomorrow will be happy, you’ll see

Keira: If you say so. For now... can I have a hug

Marta: aww, of course carino

The couple head home and still feeling the effects of the tea take time to enjoy each other properly. Keira still gets feelings of inadequacy which can be hard to balance with Marta’s need to feel uncaged. But they love each other. Love is a skill and these two are happy to grow their skills together. Whatever they may feel, they’ll work on it together.

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#sims 4 #the sims #the sims 4 #simblr #my sims #ChangingPlumbobStorytime #R0903 #MartaRomero #KeiraFoster #KayleighFoster #JoeyYork #AlexanderGoth #JamesGoth

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saras-devotionals · 15 days

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Quiet Time 9/6

What am I feeling today?

I wish I had been more productive today. Then again I was really tired and it was probably good for me to get that extra bit of sleep. Prayerfully all my plans can follow through today. Also, I’m trying so so hard to keep a level head. There’s a brother in the church who I’ve developed an interest in and I don’t want to spiral like I have the habit of doing in the past. I just need to trust in God and His timing and not fret and preoccupy myself with worrying about whether he likes me or will ask me out again or if he feels the same way about me etc.

Bible Plan: Rethinking Love and Romance

Finally, we turn to the New Testament’s Christmas story—wait, what? We associate angels, shepherds, and wise men with the Christmas story, but romance? Stick with us. There is something profound to learn about love from a character who does not have a single line in the story.

Matthew’s gospel tells us that Joseph was betrothed to Mary. In their world, betrothals were more serious than modern wedding engagements. The two were legally bound to one another, though they didn’t yet live together or consummate their relationship. During the betrothal time, Mary discovers that she is pregnant—and the baby is not Joseph’s (Matt. 1:18). Imagine being Joseph in this scenario. What is he supposed to do? In their culture, this would have been humiliating to both Mary and him.

Joseph shows lovingkindness to Mary by deciding to divorce her quietly (Matt. 1:19). That doesn’t seem very loving, but consider the cultural context. Joseph could have preserved his own reputation by publicly shaming Mary. He could have told everyone she was pregnant with a child that wasn’t his, leaving her to carry the burden alone. But Joseph won’t do it. He shows mercy toward Mary.

The authors say he wants to divorce her quietly because he is a “righteous” (Greek: dikaios) man. This word in Greek is deeply relational, describing someone doing right by another person and treating others as infinitely valuable creations of God. What could be more loving than treating someone with mutual respect and acknowledging that God built them for honor, blessing, and endless lovingkindness? Joseph wishes Mary no harm. He chooses to care for her.

Joseph is later awakened by a messenger, an angel, who instructs him to not divorce Mary. For Joseph, a quick and quiet divorce instinctively looked best for everyone involved. But Joseph chooses to trust the angel and, again, acts in a way that cares for and blesses (or gives life to) Mary—a picture of true love.

Most of us aren’t getting angelic instructions about who to stay romantically involved with. Wouldn’t that be nice? But we can still choose to act in love toward others in the way that Joseph did. Are we loving another person because of what they can do for us, or are we loving them so that they can be built up, cared for, and blessed with life? Are we choosing to do right by the other person regardless of what they can do for us?

In today’s video, learn more about the Hebrew word khesed that describes the relational and active love that God has for his people.

youtube

Matthew 1:18-25 NIV

“This is how the birth of Jesus the Messiah came about: His mother Mary was pledged to be married to Joseph, but before they came together, she was found to be pregnant through the Holy Spirit. Because Joseph her husband was faithful to the law, and yet did not want to expose her to public disgrace, he had in mind to divorce her quietly. But after he had considered this, an angel of the Lord appeared to him in a dream and said, “Joseph son of David, do not be afraid to take Mary home as your wife, because what is conceived in her is from the Holy Spirit. She will give birth to a son, and you are to give him the name Jesus, because he will save his people from their sins.” All this took place to fulfill what the Lord had said through the prophet: “The virgin will conceive and give birth to a son, and they will call him Immanuel” (which means “God with us”). When Joseph woke up, he did what the angel of the Lord had commanded him and took Mary home as his wife. But he did not consummate their marriage until she gave birth to a son. And he gave him the name Jesus.”

I never thought about this too deeply but let’s take a moment to reflect on this situation. Joseph is a man betrothed to a woman who is now pregnant with a child that he knows it not his. Think for a moment how that would make you feel, betrayed? angry? bitter? disappointed? disgusted? hurt? I can’t imagine what it must have been like initially for Joseph but take some time again to reflect on how he responded to the situation.

It says he did not want to expose her to public disgrace. Think about what that says about him and his character especially during this time period and cultural context. He loved Mary in a way of respect and kindness, he was looking out for her even when it may have seemed she wasn’t doing the same for him.

This can lead us to a great practical:

Are we loving another person because of what they can do for us, or are we loving them so that they can be built up, cared for, and blessed with life? Are we choosing to do right by the other person regardless of what they can do for us?

No matter what happens or how how people treat us today (and any other day for that matter) - we should show the same love that God has shown us. Let’s not grumble when asked to do something. Let’s build up other people with our words. Let’s take the time to encourage one another.

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bread-and-roses-too · 8 months

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In light of people being shocked that Evangelicals are both supportive of Israel and antisemetic, I want to talk a little about my experience with the religion and how people in it view the world.

First of all, Israel being a country is important to the Evangelical religion for reasons that were never really clear to me even after being a part of the church for a long time. From what I understand a war in Israel is supposed to be a sign of the End Times or apocalypse (it being the apocalypse would be a good thing for Evangelicals) and Israeli people are supposed to be God's chosen people. Siding against them in anything is seen as going against the will of God.

Second of all, Evangelical Christians do not exist peacefully with other religions. Evangelicalism as a concept is, in very short form, "if someone doesn't find Jesus before they die, they go to Hell". The only solution to this according to the Evangelical Church is aggressive conversion of everyone to Christianity as quickly as possible. Everyone who is converted is immediately pushed back out into the world to do missions work, either at home or abroad. If you've ever met an extremely pushy, vocal Christian in the wild they were probably Evangelical. Evangelicals are not afraid to discriminate on the basis of religion, one of their base beliefs is that every religion is pulling people away from the One True God and eternal life in Heaven. You should not be surprised that Evangelicals are antisemitic. You should not be surprised that Evangelicals are islamophobic. You should not be surprised that Evangelicals are pushing for Christian nationalism and against any "secular" laws like equality for gay and trans people. The goal of Evangelicalism is to reach a Christian world as quickly as possible. Many Evangelical people believe that the End TImes will not come until everyone knows about God and Jesus, so this aggressive conversion is seen as speeding up the end of the world and the return of Jesus who will take all Christians (dead and alive) to Heaven.

This is not a call to be cruel to people involved in this religion. I spent the first 16+ years of my life in an Evangelical church (Assemblies of God). The people in these churches are often extremely anxious and genuinely believe that they're responsible for the souls of every individual person they meet. It essentially cultivates a life of constant urgency and stress. I'm saying all of this because the Evangelical Church is one of the strongest religious entities in the U.S. and it is causing most of the problems we see today. More leftist energy needs to be put into (gentle) deradicalization of Evangelical working class people and exposing the horrifying scale of Evangelical control over U.S. politics and daily life. This is especially true in light of the genocide in Palestine, the U.S. government is garnering support for genocide by manipulating existing beliefs about the spiritual importance of Israel, and it's working because of the way Evangelicalism is set up.

*This post does not represent the viewpoints of every individual Christian or even Evangelical, "I'm an Evangelical and I'm not like that" responses are missing the point. This is not an anti-Christianity or anti-religion post and those sentiments will not be tolerated. Evangelicalism is bad mostly because it aims to violate freedom of religion. If you also have that goal, you are just as bad.*

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overly-dramatic-artist · 11 months

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💖Week Two: Relationships💖

The primary relationship that overarches the entire story and evolves the most significantly is Angela and Bruno. From a young age, they declare each other to be the best of friends, almost always at each other’s side or poking gentle fun at the other. To be perfectly clear, neither see the other in any sort of romantic view for a long, long time, and even when it starts to develop, they are quite blind to it, brushing off their feelings as just being a very strong friendship. They have the kind of rapport where they can be talking back and forth over each other passionately without any sort of irritation, or sitting in complete silence together either reading or crocheting, just passing the time in the presence in each other’s company.

When Angela is 19 and Bruno is 20, their relationship….changes for lack of better words. There’s a spark. A shift in the stars. An awakening of senses that ties the strings of their friendship into an irreversible knot. And despite this ‘change,’ they still promise to remain friends and just friends; only friends. She is still processing the trauma of her last romantic relationship, and Bruno (who I HC as demiromantic) doesn’t really want to take the deep dive into romance. So, they are friends. Just friends…who happen to sometimes kiss and look at each other a little too longingly.

For a more immersive and in depth experience/explanation of their relationship, I suggest reading my fic Why did it have to be me?

Angela is also quite close with Julieta and Pepa, as well as Agustin and Felix. As young teens, Angela and Pepa are in the church choir together, with Felix and Agustin who act as instrumentalists for the group. Julieta and Bruno will occasionally be pulled into the musical antics. Of the sisters, Angela is probably slightly closer to Julieta, mostly for her ability to read Angel like a book and is able to hone in on what’s going on with the girl. Pepa on the other hand has her head slightly more in the clouds so to speak when it comes to understanding the shifting moods and feelings of her friends, mostly because she has such a huge responsibility already of trying to regulate her own emotions. Julieta has always suspected something going on between her brother and Angela, is eventually proven correct when the relationship becomes difficult to keep hidden. She was mostly just suspect of her brother harboring a bit of a crush on Angela, but just being in denial about it for many years to the point where it had been completely repressed.

(Forgive the old art, I definitely need to update these ones :0 )

Angel loves the Madrigal kids with her whole heart, and though she wouldn’t say it out loud, she considers them as her nieces and nephews (and technically speaking with the whole common-law marriage contingency, they *are* her sobrinos more so than her cousins kids). She is closest with Isabela and Dolores given that they spent more of their formative years with her more than the other kids, but if you ask her, she will adamantly deny having a favorite.

When they were little, Isa and Dolores loved when Angela and Bruno would watch them for an afternoon/evening, because they would make a production of keeping them entertained with outlandish stories, complete with melodramatic acting and costumes (they especially love getting into Angela’s wardrobe of fancy things, and Dolores especially loves Angela’s would-have-been wedding gown that she keeps tucked away in her closet, but when Dolores finds it and gushes about how pretty it is, she’s able to let go of some of the bad feelings surrounding it). The girls get involved in their fable telling, inserting their own takes of action into the plot (which is completely welcomed) (very much like that episode of Bluey with uncle Rad and Frisky). Once Dolores gets her gift though, loud and intense storytellings get overwhelming for her, especially with the addition of the other kids. So, from this point on, Angela would do private story-time for Dolores, most often done when she would braid her hair. Isabela, on the other hand, liked to take on a directorial role, and was adamant about her vision for plots. Early on, the girls’ favorite stories were La Fada Morgana and the tale of Ariadne.

Angela, for better or worse, sees a lot of herself in Isabela as she grows up. The pressure to be perfect and splendid all the time is far from unfamiliar for her, and she tries, though not terribly successfully, to curb the pain of having to fit into a predetermined mold by giving Isabela some creative outlets to express herself. Initially, Isabela is able to get some of her feelings out through art, but overtime becomes scared of the consequences for just having negative feelings, so she only ends up creating in a very limited manner.

Luisa was an armored by Angela’s dancing when she was very young. When Luisa was around four, Angela returned from a long trip wherein she had learned to dance the Bolero, and little Luisa fell in love with all of the twirls and movements of her tía’s long skirt and cape. Angel would take Luisa’s hands and spin her around the floor to the sound of Agustin’s piano playing, and lift her up in the air like a true prima ballerina. With Angela, Luisa was able to indulge herself in her desire for the soft and girlish things of life, like chiffon skirts the swish around when she spins and pretty ribbons decorating her hair in elaborate styles. Unfortunately, time for the frilly trivial things lessens as the demand for Luisa’s gift grows. When traveling, Angela tries to find little trinkets like earrings or hair pins that Luisa can wear will working so she can still feel some bit of fun femininity.

Camilo and Mirabel both thought that Angela and Bruno were married when they were itty bitty. It only got brought up at one point: Camilo had just turned five, Mirabel in a few months preparing for her gift ceremony. The family is in the dinning room/ kitchen, and Mirabel asks Angela why she never wears a ring like her mama or tía Pepa. She’s a little confused at first, like what are you talking about, why would I wear a ring? Cue slight tense atmosphere of gently explaining that they are in fact not married, and the awkwardness that ensues afterwards of the kids insisting that they must be married because they’re in love and if you’re in love you should be married. This adds a mountain of tension on the pair as well as her relationship with Alma, especially given she leaves for a long time after Mirabel’s gift ceremony.

Angela teaches Camilo to play guitar when she comes back from a trip from DR when he’s seven. She gifts him her old guitar, telling him it’s charmed to never go out of tune, but in reality, she and Félix take turns tuning the strings when Camilo isn’t looking. He doesn’t catch on until he’s thirteen.

She also teaches Mirabel to embroider when she returns from her first cruise six months after her gift ceremony. Mirabel is in a concerning depressive spiral considering how young she is, and Angela offers to take her out of the magic house for a little bit to be in her family’s shop. She tells her that she can find magic in the ordinary things and thus starts teaching her little thread decorations and embellishments. She’s able to cultivate a bit more happiness in Mirabel through crafts and tailoring.

Antonio, given his very young age, does not have many solid memories of Angela, but loves her regardless. When she comes back for Dolores’ wedding, he is still shy, but quickly acclimated to her presence (the rats have nothing but good things to say about her). She held him a lot as a baby, but her traveling and almost permanent move away kept her from being around when his consciousness evolved from baby brain to child-with-object-permanence brain.

Now for the enormous family tree!!!

The great grandparents don’t play much part in the story, so for sake of simplicity, I will skip over them. Quinuama Ixchel Maria Estrada - Villca Gonzalez and Raymundo Hernan Antonio Estrada - Rodriguez Villca are Angela’s maternal grandparents (they are primarily who raised Angel), who have children: Beatríz Adriana Pilar Carvajal - Estrada Villca, Naylay Ezekiel Hernan Estrada - Villca Ruiz, and Anamaria Yaamil Quinuama Morales - Estrada Villca. Beatríz marries Lucio Fernando Simoné Carvajal - Silva Estrada, and they have two children: Imelda Constantine Adriana Manuel - Carvajal Estrada and Dominic Simoné Lucio Carvajal - Estrada. Naylay marries Ramona Xiomara Laura Estrada - Ruíz Allard, and they have three children: Remedios Yoselín Magdalena Márquez Estrada Ruiz, Nicolás Raymundo Ezekeil Estrada Ruiz Vargas, and Narcisa Esther Xiomara Mendoza Estrada Ruiz. Anamaria marries Guillermo (listed below), and their only child is Angela Leilani Yaamil Morales Estrada.

On Guillermo’s side of the family there are the great grandparents Enele Aulii Taito and Kanani Sofia Anacoana Taito Flores Tuigamala, Chimalmat Itzamara Morales Canul and Matteo Guillermo Morales Delgado Canul. The two relevant children from these couples are Guillermo’s parents, Leilani Maria Onosa’i Morales - Taito Flores and Babajide Jacobo Matteo Morales - Canul Taito. Guillermo was distant from his family, setting out at a very young age to live with one of his uncles, Enele Kahiau Luis Taito Flores (Leilani’s brother) to learn the trade of raising goats. Enele sadly passed away years before the formation of the Encanto, leaving Guillermo to raise himself on his own since he was 16.

Of Angela’s five cousins (in order of age): Imelda Constantine Adriana Manuel - Carvajal Estrada, Remedios Yoselín Magdalena Márquez Estrada Ruiz, Dominic Simoné Lucio Carvajal - Estrada, Nicolás Raymundo Ezekeil Estrada Ruiz Vargas, and Narcisa Esther Xiomara Mendoza Estrada Ruiz; she is closest to Remedios. Narcisa, despite begin the closest in age, has an odd relationship with Angel from a young age, the two of them mixing like oil and water. Narcisa enjoyed teasing Angela as a child, and they would often get into little fights, sometimes escalating to crying and yanking on each other’s ponytails. Narcisa’s sardonic personality settled with age, and she became much kinder to Angela by the time she’s an adult. Remedios has a….reputation in town for her coquettish behavior and ‘revolving door’ of lovers. Angela is closest to Reme because of the older girl’s honesty and acceptance of things deemed ‘improper.’

Her relationship with her father is difficult to say the least. Guillermo became extremely detached and emotionally distant after the passing of his wife. He’s a man of very few words, even with his family. He’s one of those fathers who doesn’t want their kid to grow up, who would just keep them forever as a child if he could. It stems mainly from the fact that his wife died so young and seeing his daughter surpass his wife’s life breaks his heart.

Some other relationships include her three exes: Roberto Montoya, Aureliano Torres, and Esteban Cesare Moscote Suarez. Roberto is a sweet boy that Angela projected her desire for romance on to when she was 12 (totally based on my own experience of picking a relatively cute boy to have a crush on so I could feel normal) who was exceeding kind to her during their little relationship, but both ultimate decided that it just was not what either of them wanted, and Roberto came out to her saying that he had kind of done the same thing in ‘picking a sweet girl to project his feelings on to.’ Aureliano was the emotionally unavailable son of the cantina owners, who sauntered his way into Angela’s heart with a blasé smirk and several glasses of rum. She broke it off with him when a lie was revealed. Esteban was a seemingly kind gentleman who was the picture of perfection upon meeting him, but evolved into an extremely manipulative and abusive partner that Angela became engaged to after he put her on the spot in front of half the town with a proposal (Don’t worry though, she breaks it off after finding her strength).

I’ve probably talked way too long about this now :)

@encanto-extended-edition

#encanto oc appreciation #encanto #writing #encanto oc #encanto oc event #encanto extended edition #wdihtbm #Angela morales Estrada #bruno my beloved #bruno madrigal x oc #bruno madrigal #mandys drawings #angel morales estrada

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twola · 1 year

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Devil’s Backbone - Owanjila III

Pairing: Arthur Morgan x FemOC/Reader POV

Tags: Longfic, Slow Burn, Smut (18+), Violence, Canon-Typical Injuries

Limpany’s burning was a lot more than meets the eye. Deception, greed, and murder follow everyone touched by Leviticus Cornwall. A story where the Van der Linde gang gets even more inescapably involved in Cornwall’s dealings, with the survivor of the massacre at the heart of it all. Slow burn. Pre-Blackwater and beyond.

Owanjila III: Be Not A Fool For Love

The gang continues to get back on its feet after the ferry robbery. Meanwhile, in Blackwater, the law is picking up the pieces after the massacre. Abigail, try as she might, cannot let her concern for John go.

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“No, no, Fraulein, you’re forgetting the interest on the loan. The amount should be much higher.”

The older man leers over the book you’re writing in, his glasses low on his nose. You frown, looking up at him, “I did add interest, Mister Strauss.”

“At what percent?”

“Ten…?” You state, but by the end of the syllable, your tone sounds much more unsure.

“What do you think we are, a church? No, no - we keep these people out of debtor’s prisons - and we need to be paid for the good work we are doing.” Strauss eyes you critically, then points at a figure you wrote next to a name, “Make it thirty percent.”

“ Thirty ?!”

“Yes. They know what they are getting into when I provide them the loan. And what it expected to be collected.” The man waves his hand dismissively as you go to recalculate your figures. The sums were not huge, but asking a desperate man for another thirty percent…? That seemed… predatory.

You breathe out your nose, adding and multiplying numbers in your head to redo the loan ledger. Five lines, currently , with the names and amounts owed written in neat cursive. “Here, Mister Strauss.”

He leans over the table, having seated himself in the chair opposite you, and slides the ledger over to his side. His eyes dart around the page, and his frown lessens before he looks back at you, the sunlight glinting off the lenses of his glasses. “Yes, these figures look correct. Now we must collect.”

“Collect?”

“Yes, but not us. People are much more likely to take a loan from someone like me, or you,” He waves his hand at you, “But are more likely to repay someone a little more menacing.”

“Ah.” You say, the logic being sound in your head.

“Speaking of which,” Strauss sits up, and points off in the direction behind you, “Herr Morgan, come here. When you have a chance, Miss Shaw has a list of collectors for you to visit.”

You turn in your seat, to see Arthur striding toward you, a persistent scowl on his face. Indeed, Strauss was right - Arthur was menacing - tall and broad, his arms bursting with corded muscle…

You blink, catching yourself, and look back at the ledger, watching Strauss tear out the page you wrote on and fold it, holding it out for Arthur as the man approached. “Got another sucker pulled into your loansharking there, Herr Strauss?”

“Hosea said Miss Shaw here had bookkeeping experience. A rare find among this group.”

“And somehow it's always me that you find to do your collecting - despite the abundance of bull-headed muscle in this group.” Arthur takes the paper from Strauss’s hand, scowling as he tucks it into his satchel on his hip. “Y’done with her now? Or you have more money to count?”

Strauss gives a dismissive wave as he closes his ledger and walks toward his wagon. You stand from your seat, eyes following the older man for a moment before turning back to Arthur as you straighten your skirts.

“Dutch seems to think loansharkin’ is beneath us for some reason - he prefers robbin’. But money is money.” Arthur drawls, grabbing a cigarette from his satchel and leaning over to strike the match on his boot, cupping his hand around the cigarette to light it before tossing the match to the ground.

“I suppose. I guess usury is less bloody though?” You ask, rubbing at your arms somewhat nervously.

“Depends. If I’m collectin’, it tends not to be.”

You wait for him to say he’s being sarcastic. But no, he’s dead serious.

Arthur doesn’t notice the tumult in your eyes. He takes a drag of the cigarette, holding it between his thumb and forefinger, before leaning back and exhaling a cloud of smoke to the side.

“You ready to go shoot? Or you got somethin’ better you’re working on?” He turns back to you, and fortunately, you’ve mostly regained your composure.

“N-no. I can shoot.” You say, eyes shooting to the gleaming revolver on his hip.

“C’mon then. We’ll head a bit north of here, round the lake.” Arthur motions for you to follow him, and you both pace slowly toward his tent, where the gang’s weapons and ammunition are stored.

“Y’ever shot a gun? I mean, besides when you almost blew my ears out a few weeks ago?” He asks as he reaches the wagon, letting down the back hitch and looking over the numerous firearms within a long crate in the bed of the wagon.

“I’ve shot a game rifle before if that’s what you’re asking.” You say, trying not to be annoyed by his jab.

Arthur drops his cigarette on the ground, crushing it under his boot, before grabbing a small rifle from the crate and holding it out to you. “Like this?”

You take it, looking it up and down, and nod your head, holding it back out to him.

He slings it over his shoulder and grabs another gun from the crate, holding it out for you to take, and you do, taking his lead and pulling the strap of the gun over your head, letting it fall across your chest, the firearm hanging across your back. Arthur grabs a box of cartridges and tucks it into his satchel.

“Alrigh’, Missus Shaw. I’ve got the varmint rifle and a repeater. Reckon we’ll start you on those.”

You eye one of the revolvers within the crate for a moment before the slamming of the lid shut loudly jolts you.

"C'mon, over to the horses. We'll get a little bit outta camp. Bit north of here there's plenty of things to shoot at."

You follow him to where the horses are tied up, to that old roan Walker that Arthur was still riding. He grabs your waist without giving you much of a chance, heaving you up on the Walker’s rump. You scowl down at him, “You do know I can get on a horse myself.”

“Oh, well then be my guest next time, Missus Shaw.” Arthur snipes back as he pulls himself up into the saddle.

You murmur a curse under your breath as he digs his spurs into the horse’s side, leading him down the side of the hill toward Owanjila, then hooking northward after crossing the small mountain stream that fed the lake.

The rest of the ride is relatively silent until you reach an area to the north that almost looks burned-out, where the tree trunks are white and sparse in an eerie silence. Of course, this is where Arthur decides to stop the horse, swinging himself down and holding up a hand to you. You grasp it and slide yourself down from the horse, only realizing later that he offered you help instead of simply grasping your waist and pulling you down himself

Little steps, one at a time.

“So… what are we shooting?”

Arthur grunts and pulls a half-drunk bottle of Kentucky bourbon from his satchel, uncorking it and unabashedly polishing off the liquor as you stare in disgust. He's drinking it like water - completely unfazed by the burn of the alcohol going down. You'd think he was completely unaffected by it were it not for him swallowing and gritting his teeth slightly before walking several steps away and placing the bottle upon the flat surface of a stump from a fallen tree.

"There y'go. Go on and stand o'er there," He points several steps away, which you stride over to dutifully, holding the rifle in your hands. You feel your palms start to sweat in nervous anticipation. Truth be told, you can't remember the last time you shot a rifle like this. Several years ago, at this point. Back when you were another woman.

Arthur stands to the side, holds his hand out in invitation, and you sigh and orient yourself toward the bottle several feet away.

You hold up the small rifle ahead of you, the butt of the gun against your shoulder as you point it toward the bottle. Closing one eye, your finger hovers for a moment over the trigger, and then you take a breath and squeeze.

A snap rings out after a moment, dust on the stump swirling upward. You lower the barrel, opening your other eye and frowning to see the bottle intact.

"Y'hit the stump, at least. Give it a few more tries." Arthur stands to the side, thumbs wound around his belt buckle, swaying back and forth slowly as he glances between you and the bottle.

You do. Four more times you pull the trigger to the small rifle, to varying degrees of success, on the last round you swear you can hear the pellet clink against the glass. You frown and look at Arthur, dripping in weaponry, sure that he could hit this target not ten steps away with his eyes closed.

“Ain’t half bad with that.” Arthur nods, taking his hand off his belt and pointing at you, “Now take that repeater from your back and try that. Won’t kill anything bigger than a jackrabbit with the varmint rifle.”

“What do I need to shoot bigger than a rabbit?” You ask as he holds out his hand for the rifle. You pass it to him and start to swing the repeater over your back.

Arthur takes the varmint rifle, placing it on the ground next to him. He lowers his head, the shadow of an ironic smirk peaking out from under the rim of his black gambler hat.

“Men like me, Missus Shaw. You gotta be ready to shoot men like me.”

You frown in return, before glancing back to the bottle, hefting the repeater ahead of you, heavier than the game rifle you had just shot with.

You hold the repeater up, settling it into your shoulder as you aim at the bottle balanced on the tree stump paces away. You close one eye, the gun swaying slightly before pulling the trigger.

The sound hits you before the recoil, slamming your shoulder back as you stumble half a step. You have no idea where the bullet went, but the bottle was completely unfazed. A groan escapes your lips as you lower the repeater.

“Not bad, but look ‘ere,” Arthur steps up behind you, reaching around you to grab the rifle and bring it to position again. You hold in a gasp as his large hands move over yours and you feel his barrel chest flush against your back.

His arms hover over yours, and your thoughts from before come racing back - his corded muscles straining the blue cotton of his work shirt…

Stop it, damnit.

God, hopefully, he doesn’t notice the flush blooming on your cheeks and down your neck. You grit your teeth within your mouth for a moment before the searing pain in your chest returns, as if he pointed that big old revolver straight into your heart and pulled the trigger.

You’re a widow. Not even three months gone. You were still in mourning, Frederick’s gold ring tucked away safe among your sparse belongings. Wasn’t it him behind you, telling you to aim at a stupid-looking clump of Spanish moss outside of Saint Denis all those years ago?

You could almost hear him, rasping in your ear, holding that old game rifle up and following where he pointed to. You only got one shot off before the man had fully wrapped his arms around you, nibbling at your earlobe, laughing in the summer sun…

You frown, trying to bring yourself back from the edge of melancholy.

“Both eyes open.” Arthur rumbles, jerking you back to the present, and you open your other eye, not even realizing you had closed it.

Arthur’s arms pull away from yours, and the warmth emitted from his frame retreats as well.

You breathe in. You breathe out.

“Go ahead, Missus Shaw.”

You pull the trigger.

The bell on the door rings, the warm air blowing into the small lobby of the office from the street. Springtime has fully settled in, with blustering winds rolling through the town from the south.

“Be right with you!”

From the hallway comes a stout, middle-aged woman, with dark, braided hair and a work apron over her dress. She stops in the small lobby, sizing up the stranger who walked in as she wipes her hands on her apron.

Tall, dark-haired, and mustached, the man in a fine suit holds his hat in one hand as he waits for the woman to settle herself.

“Do you need to see the doctor?” She asks, noting that this man does not look sick or injured.

“I am looking for Doctor Smith, yes. I need to talk to him. And his wife. Do you happen to be Rosalia Smith?”

Rosalia purses her lips slightly, her eyebrows furrowing. “Let me get my husband.”

A silver badge gleams brightly on his chest.

She turns and walks down the short hallway to the examination room, where her bespectacled husband cleans a scalpel in the sink.

“Amor, a man is asking for you up front.”

The doctor turns around, smiling tiredly. “Thank you, Rosa. Did he tell you what’s wrong?”

Rosalia shakes her head, but it is obvious by her expression that she isn’t telling him everything.

The doctor purses his lips, frowning. “What’s wrong?”

“Un hombre de la ley,” She whispers, “Says he wants to talk to both of us.”

He frowns, wiping his wet hands on his apron while walking past his wife and down the hallway. He reaches the lobby, finding the tall, imposing man waiting patiently.

“Silas Smith,” He reaches his hand out to the man, who grasps it and shakes heartily, “My wife said you were looking to speak to me?”

“Yes, yes.” The man replies. He places his hat on the windowsill and pulls a field notebook from his jacket’s inner pocket, opening it to a pre-marked page.

“My name is Angus Carmody, agent with the Pinkerton Detective Agency. I have the understanding that you two were one of the last people to see a Missus Ruth Shaw about a month ago.”

Rosalia gasps at her husband’s side, her hand flying up to cover her mouth. “Missus Ruth! Is she alright?”

Silas places a hand on Rosalia’s back to calm her.

“No one has seen her. We are trying to track her down to…” The lawman swallows, pulling a pen from his pocket, “Straighten out some business details from her late husband’s estate. For her benefit, of course. There are funds that Frederick Shaw had set aside that can be used for the care of his widow.”

Angus Carmody clicks his pen open, licking his thumb to turn the page of his field notebook to a blank one. He hopes that these people bought his story and that Shaw hadn’t told them about Limpany, Cornwall, or their incident out in Tall Trees.

Silas frowns, shaking his head, “I’m sorry - she was boarding the ferry for Saint Denis the same day we went to Mexico. We’ve only just returned yesterday. We haven’t heard from her - I would have to think she’s in Saint Denis.”

“Unfortunately,” Angus looks at Silas, then at a horrified Rosalia, “She did not board the ferry that day. We have reason to think she may be in danger.”

“¿Peligro?” Rosalia gasps again.

“Yes. Please let me or another Pinkerton Agent know if you hear from Missus Shaw.” Carmody produces a printed card, handing it to Silas, “We’ve set up office in the old tailor’s shop next to the police station. Someone should always be there.”

Silas takes the card and nods. “We will be sure to reach out should we hear anything. We certainly want Ruth to be found safe.” He places his hand on his wife’s back, her face pale.

Carmody nods, placing his field notebook back into his vest pocket. “Thank you for your help. I’ll be sure to inform you should we find Missus Shaw.”

“Doctor, Ma’am.” The Pinkerton nods again in thanks as he reaches for the door.

“Agent,” Silas replies in farewell as the door closes and latches behind Carmody.

“E-esa pobre mujer… tiene mala suerte…” Rosalia breathes out slowly, placing her hands over her forehead as if to stave away oncoming pain.

Silas has no response, simply continuing to rub his hand over his wife’s upper back, watching the Pinkerton continue down the dusty Blackwater street.

“Unfortunately the Doctor and his wife had no leads on Shaw.” Carmody rubs his brow as he stares at the worn wooden floor. He knew that answer would not satisfy his supervisor. Nothing but that woman on a silver platter would satisfy Milton, and even then, he would still find a way to be cross about it.

“You should be happy that Cornwall’s attention is now on this robbery.” Andrew Milton sneers up from his desk, which was full of newspapers, handwritten notes, and a map of West Elizabeth.

Carmody remains silent, his eyes flitting to the papers on the desk.

“It was Dutch Van der Linde and his gang.” Milton leans back in his chair, cracking his knuckles together. “The man that the city police picked up? That was Mac Callendar.”

“Was?”

“He was going to die anyway. Full of bullet holes. I did the merciful thing and put him out of his misery… after he made it clear he wasn’t going to give us anything.” Milton says, very nonchalantly for speaking about killing a man.

Carmody’s mouth pulls into a tight line.

“Anyway - Edgar Ross and I are going to run this Van der Linde thing. Evidently, the money that was on board that ferry included Cornwall’s payroll for workers trying to expand his rail line toward New Austin.” The senior agent stands, rolling his shoulders before rounding his desk to stand in front of Carmody.

“You,” Milton points his finger at Carmody’s face, “Are to find this damn woman. She’s not in Blackwater. I’ve locked down this damn town and have had agents and the police interview every damn person around, and nothing. ”

“I’ll expand my search,” Carmody states, his eyebrows setting as he seems to gain some sort of annoyed confidence, “Strawberry, Valentine. The agents in Saint Denis are keeping me apprised if she should end up there.”

“Take two or three men with you. Between the contingent here and the Blackwater police, we should have enough.” Milton replies as he turns around, pacing toward the coat rack where his black suit jacket hung.

He slides his arms into the jacket and pulls it on, adjusting the sleeves to his liking. Looking up again, he narrows his eyes at his subordinate as Carmody places his hat atop his head.

“You do know that continued failure will result in your being sent back to Chicago.”

Carmody nods. “Yes, sir.”

Milton turns his back on Carmody as he hears the door open and close. Letting out a breath, he smooths his pomaded hair down on top of his head before stepping toward his desk again. Leaning on his fists, he overviews all of the scattered paper on the desk, mind hard at work connecting events and leads and where the hell an entire outlaw gang fled to…

The door opens again. Instead of one of his agents, an older man, in the dark woolen overcoat of the Blackwater Police, gold badge gleaming against the light of the lamp hanging from the ceiling of the dusty old room.

“Ah, Chief Dunbar. Come in. Do you or your officers have any updates?” Milton waved the elder lawman in, noting the dark bags under his eyes, the tired look on his face, and the tension held in his shoulders.

Oswald Dunbar, who looked like he had been doing this job for far too long, in Milton’s opinion, stepped forward and took a heavy seat in the chair in front of the desk.

“Unfortunately not, Agent Milton. Been dealin’ with the McCourts. That poor girl. Half her face blown off.” The aged policeman ran his hand down his face, smoothing down his large mustache.

“I’ve developed the information that it was Van der Linde himself that pulled the trigger.”

“Just find them. Whole town is on edge. Hell, whole state is on edge. Blackwater isn’t supposed to be some wild west town where shootouts happen. It’s supposed to be civilized.”

Milton grinds his teeth behind his lips. “Civilized.”

Dunbar nods his head. “I know we ain’t Saint Denis. But this town - it’s gonna be the gateway to the West. New Austin. Even to California. But things like this happen, and we’re no different from any cowtown full of outlaws.”

“Rest assured, the Pinkerton Detective Agency has made this a priority,�� Milton states, attempting to assuage the police chief’s unsettled mind.

“We will make this area civilized. The days of lawlessness are over.”

It’s been days. Several days. And as much as she didn’t mind not having to scream at him for ignoring his son, Abigail’s patience had begun to fray. Fear crept into her chest, clutching around her heart like a set of claws of some ragged beast.

It was a lie, deep down she knew, to say that she didn’t care for the outlaw - of course she did. Despite his scraggly hair that she constantly wanted to cut, his gruff demeanor toward his son, the lack of ardor between them… John Marston had placed his claws into her heart long ago, ones that she was not able to release. Maybe he was the ragged beast.

“You alright? That’s the fourth time you’ve sighed this morning.”

Abigail blinks, staring over the table where you stand opposite, chopping carrots for the evening’s meal. The potatoes she was supposed to be quartering remain whole, her hand on the knife.

She stares back down at the table, placing the knife down and placing her hand on her forehead. She sighs, again, and you raise your eyebrows, placing your knife down as well. She looks up at you, a guilty, concerned look in her eyes.

“It’s John… he’s been gone for days now ‘nd…” She trails off, looking over her shoulder to see Jack laying in the grass, playing with the wooden horse toy that seemed to take up the boy’s attention recently.

Abigail exhales a ragged breath. “Ain’t no love lost between us, I know - but he’s my boy’s father…”

You round the table and place your hands on her shoulders. “C’mon - maybe we can go talk to Dutch and he’ll send one of the men to go look for him.”

Abigail lets out a heavy breath, steeling herself, and nods. You let your arms from her shoulder and take one of hers in your own, walking toward the middle of camp, to the leader’s tent.

Your voice gets low as you lean in next to her, “Do you want me-…”

“No, I got it,” Abigail says, unlacing her arms from yours and stepping ahead of you without a trace of the reservations from earlier.

“Dutch.”

The outlaw looks up from his chair within the large tent and places the book he was reading face down on the cot opposite of him. Molly O’Shea sits upon that cot, her cold eyes regarding Abigail with disdain as she enters.

“Abigail, my dear,” Dutch stands up, placing an arm on Abigail’s back, leading her a step away from the tent, “What can I do for you?”

He walks them to the campfire, where you have taken to standing next to where Hosea sits, feeding kindling to the fire. Arthur polishes his pistol across the circle.

“It’s John, Dutch. He ain’t been back. I… I’m worried.”

Dutch frowns for a second, then a smile returns under his mustache.

“John can fend for himself, Miss Roberts,” Dutch waves, almost dismissively, “He was just going up to scout.”

“It’s been days , Dutch. And in Strawberry there was talk of a blizzard that rolled through.” Abigail pleads, near uncharacteristic for the rough and tumble woman. You make eye contact with Hosea, whose mouth is drawn in a tight line.

Frowning, your brow quivers as you stare at him, and you know your face betrays worry on behalf of the poor woman.

“Dutch…” Hosea calls out to the retreating man, “It has been a while. If the weather’s as bad as they are sayin’ in Strawberry, the boy may need some help.”

Arthur, whose arms are now crossed and a scowl set in on his face, takes the opportunity to enter the conversation. “Sure, let’s all go save little Johnny Marston, damsel in distress.”

You’ve stepped closer to Abigail, placing your hands on her shoulders, trying to provide a bit of comfort, “ Arthur,” You snap, feeling Abigail tense under your fingers.

Dutch surveils the scene, the distraught Abigail pleading for the father of her son, you trying to console her, Hosea obviously taking Abigail’s side. And Arthur, perpetually annoyed at anything to do with John.

“I know the area.” You rub at Abigail’s back, trying one last attempt to convince the outlaw to help, “I traveled south through the Grizzlies about a year ago with my husband. There’s an abandoned mining town where someone could take refuge.”

Dutch purses his lips in thought.

“Dutch, please,” Abigail begs, one final time, wringing her hands.

“Alright, alright. Miss Roberts, we’ll go find John. Ruth, you’re coming with us,” He points to you and you nod, “Arthur, go grab Micah and Javier.”

Arthur scowls, his eyes falling on you and Abigail. You glare in return, turning Abigail away and starting to walk her toward her own tent, where Jack lies atop a blanket, playing with his wooden horse.

“We’re gonna find John. ‘Nd you and he can get back to squabbling just like normal.” You say lightly, hands upon her shoulders. Abigail laughs mirthlessly.

By the time the two of you reach her tent, Abigail turns to face you, eyes downcast on the ground.

“I guess it looks kinda silly for me to be beggin’ to bring him back when all we do is yell at each other.”

You shake your head, “He’s the father of your son. And somethin’ tells me Jack didn’t come from only one night.”

Abigail snorts, another mirthless laugh under her breath.

“Well, if you’re goin’ up north with them, at least let me give you my coat, ‘nd you need a scarf. And gloves.” She says, changing the subject before she opened herself up to further vulnerability.

You nod, and follow her over to the small chest of her clothing, preparing you for a ride north into the Grizzlies.

#rdr2 fanfic #red dead redemption #red dead redemption 2 #red dead fandom #red dead fanfic #arthur morgan x female oc #arthur morgan smut #rdr2 #arthur morgan x female reader #twolafic #devil’s backbone

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xxdumbblondexx · 2 years

Text

--- Additional Learning Support ---

11 - bro almost uprooted everything

Masterlist --- Next --- Previous

“For today’s session, I have designed three topics for each of you from one of your corresponding Lessons. You have today to revise and perfect your knowledge about them as, over the next week, you will need to present them for twenty minutes. Each of you has one debate card, listed on the white board behind me.”

Over Albedo’s shoulder was possibly the cleanest whiteboard you had ever seen. Not even a smudge but his hand writing was almost unreadable

“I want the rest of you to take a look inside these topics and provide a debate back. Whoever makes the best argument gets to decide the next session's meal. These will be presented Monday.” Albedo explained and you partially spited ever agreeing to look after Klee again.

But without the energy to argue, you looked to the board behind him. There you saw a title written next to your name.

Did the Churches involvement in medical procedures affect the progression of modern day medicine. (History)

“Which side are you going to take for that?” Heizou asked from his potion beside you. From being the first to take your seat, he proudly took the seat beside you although there were plenty others available.

“That it did.” You replied shortly, pulling up a powerpoint on your phone.

While it loaded, you flicked your eyes to the three cards that lied in front of you. The first was the debate card.

The second was 'Explain how the position of elements on the periodic table effect their stability, e.g electromagnetic configuration, atomic radiation, extra.' Applied science.

The last was 'Explain how the media’s perception of crime affects society.' Sociology.

“Ah, I know about that topic. Want me to help you?” He leaned in closer, purposely looking over your shoulder.

“Can I cut out your tongue and wear it as a necklace?” You retorted, feeling your eyebrows go taught.

In the moment of silence you looked up to check the white board for everyone else.

Aether had ; Does the movement toward Reusable energy benefit the environment. (Applied science)

Which you thought would be difficult since Science is less of a debate and more of facts. However there was always the point that these are all theories and it is impossible to prove what we cannot perceive.

Xiao had ; Should electro currency be equal to physical currency. (IT)

You had no idea about IT so it barely really bothered you.

Kazuha had ; In An Inspector Calls, who is at fault for the death of Eva Smith. (English Literature)

You watched it once or twice and had enough of a jist of it to create an argument. But the underlying fact was that an Inspector Calls was created as a social call out to capitalism and you were sure he’d pick that side.

Scaramouche had ; Is Sociology a science. (Sociology)

You were sure to create the best debate possible to piss him off. Sociology was named a social science which pretty much separated it from true sciences such as physics or biology. But you would make sure to pick at every fault in his debate.

Finally, Heizou had ; Should individuals of different gender identities be placed in prisons based on their biological sex. (Criminology and Law)

You had no idea about Criminology and law but you knew that as soon as you got out of there, you would be on the phone to Yanfei to get the lowdown on all of it. It was your job— no, your purpose —to piss Heizou off as much as he had been doing to you.

Thinking about Heizou, you thought that comment would shut him up but then he continued with,

“Are you saying you want my tongue on your neck?”

It shot through you like boiling water and before you could even think, you shouted,

“Albedo!” Who suddenly shot up from his seat and suggested in a less shroud voice,

“Why don't we swap seats.” And you couldn’t agree more

“Ok once was weird, this is full blown stalker-ish.” You found yourself saying as you walked home.

Once again, Scaramouche was there, following your footsteps. You expected him to speed past you as he had tried to do the time before. But this time he didn't. This time he was creeping behind you.

“Not my fault. Childe said he wanted me to walk you home.”

Childe did what?!

Ok, so sometimes your brother could be over protective. Deliberately scare away a person who was into you. Torment some girls who were being bitchy towards you. Follow you around, scowling at everyone because he claimed something you were wearing was inappropriate. But this…was a new level.

Honestly you thought he was relieved that he no longer would have to ferry you around. He seemed to be at least. Clearly you had forgotten his own-given duties of being your older brother.

“You could have said that instead of creepily following me.” You answered as he came to walk beside you.

“Sounds like too much effort.” He let out a hot sigh that evaporated into steam as he stretched his arms behind his head.

“You excited for the debate on monday?” You tried to make small talk because otherwise you knew this walk would be hell.

“Nope. Not with you and that Heizou guy in my ass.” Which was true. You might have spent too long looking at ways to make him and Heizou regret ever annoying and too little looking at your own topics.

“Did you revise much?”

“A little. That prick pretty much chose a unit of sociology. There’s so much of it and Interpretivism can eat my ass.”

Another weakness you were sure to note.

“Yeah. Those dudes pretty much just hopped on the individualism train and took a nap.”

“Twats. ‘An individual has their own choices and beliefs’. What the fuck does that have to do with anything about science? I just enjoy the idea that ‘true’ science theories are only true until they are disproven. Sociology, you can say what you want about feminists and marxist but their points still stand.”

“They're resilient. Even though Marx spoke about the ‘working class revolution’ over a hundred years ago and it still hasn't happened.”

“Funny thing is though, I bet Karl Marx wouldn't have created Marxism if he didn't fall through the capitalist ladder.”

With that, you laughed, spitting out a

“Prick,” in the process.

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

Hiyaaa,

Tbh, the only a levels/betecs i took were Sociology, applied science and health and social care so for the rest of them i'm literally trying to remember what i was taught in high school. For IT, i have no clue. I literally just played cool maths during the lessons. And i never took criminology. So i tried to take from what my friend did in uni.

Also, if you haven't noticed, im going to try and change from guy to guy to give a profile of what they will be like during the next part, (when a guys finally chosen)

I've still got a bit to write till then, and I've still pretty much gotta finish Xiao's (which is coming up next) Kazuha and Aethers. Like little taster chapters.

Anyway, thanks for reading x

#genshin impact smau #genshin x reader #genshin smau #genshin impact #albedo x reader #heizou x reader #kazuha x reader #scaramouche x reader #aether x reader #xiao x reader

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woomycritiques543 · 1 year

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maybe let actual trans people and gnc people say what they have an issue with instead of acting like…one episode of a cartoon on youtube that has people do drag is going to result in mass murder?

idk it’s just funny to me that you seem so upset over what you think episode 5 will be

Stereotypes have literally caused genocides in the past, multiple times! Jim Crow laws even came from stereotypes of people like me, people who are poc! Not just that, but the stereotypes being portayed in the newest episode, are the same stereotypes being used as an excuse to try to kill drag queens, and children, right now!

The episode is literally going to show Moxxie, in drag, as a "danger around children" by depicting him trying to harm someone in front of kids, the exact type of stereotypes that

When if the media stopped constantly representing drag queens as "a danger to children", would attacks like this would have happened?

Actually... NO! Because this happened because of generations of misrepresentation, generations of public misinformation.

This isn't about "this makes this happen". It's about representation. -and the fact that so many of you forget what representation is to benefit a cartoon made by a cis white passing woman is actually disgusting. This episode literally has stereotypes that can and will cause more problems for the lgbt+ community, same for how Angel Dust caused more people to sexualize gay men being molested because of people like Ralphielle, same for how the pilot and episode 4 of S2 caused more people to say the r slur. This shit effects people, universally, it's not a "you have to be ___ to see that something is causing issues" ordeal. Misrepresentation is a universal problem that effects literally all minorities, all of us! Drag queens being misrepresented as a "danger around kids" is why the laws trying to ban them are happening... in the first place! Representation effects the reputation of us all! So speculation or not, do I, and multiple people from the trans community who have now said the same thing, have a right to be concerned? Yes! Yes, we all do, stop gatekeeping because you want to get off to Moxxie's femininity. It's gross, and people do have a right to be concerned.

Stereotypes are not "harmless". They effect all of us, the more stereotypes show trans women as a "danger" to kids in the bathroom, the more that drag queens are seen as a "danger around kids." The more that black lives are seen as "savages." The more that people who are disabled are seen as "stupid and useless". All of the stereotypes in Helluva Boss are stereotypes created from generations of oppresion. None of this is "ok."

There are literal threads about stereotypes like this being wrong everywhere. This isn't "for" me to "look good online/white knight", that would involve making assumptions with no other says.

This is for them, to say what they've all been saying now for DECADES! Trans lives are not "a danger to kids", these stereotypes need to stop, not just for their safety, but for the safety of all the lgbt+ community against conservative stereotypes!

EDIT:

SPEAK OF THE DEVIL!

-and just to make it worse:

They even had the violence be done to the ONLY DARK SKINNED KID IN THE ENTIRE EPISODE!

HOLY SHIT Vivienne, this is some of the most unsubtle version of queerphobia in a cartoon that I have ever seen. Literally, all the episode does is fetishize Moxxie for being in drag, while he's meant to be disguised as a minor, while also literally, having even worse since Moxxie here isn't depicted as being a danger "around" kids like I thought he would be- he's a danger TO them! Which is even worse!

Because this year, an entire church full of children was attacked by transphobes for these exact assumptions about the drag community! These stereotypes have now gone too far, way too far, and now I wish that I begged harder for this episode to be post ponned because THIS YEAR Florida is planning to even cause physical harm to the drag community- for these exact stereotypes, that were originally created by conservatives... in the first place!

The Helluva Boss fandom even called the trans genocide "GOOD LAWS!" THEY'RE NOT EVEN BEING SUBTLE WITH THEIR TRANSPHOBIA ANYMORE!

This is literally how Vivziepop stans responded to my post trying to warn Spindlehorse to post pone this episode- they aren't just transphobic, Vivziepop stans actually want the trans community dead.

THIS EPISODE IS LITERALLY CAUSING MORE PEOPLE TO WANT THE TRANS COMMUNITY TO BE KILLED BY THESE LAWS! THIS IS A REAL FUCKING ORDEAL AND WE NEED TO STOP NORMALIZING THE STEREOTYPES IN THIS SHOW BEFORE THINGS GET ANY MORE OUT OF HAND!

Look. Stop turning your heads away and look at the harm the stereotypes from this show have now caused!

Again, for the last time, actually read my posts because so many of you said "But it's not going to be-" while not even looking at the previews, what I wrote, or anything! For fucks sake- Stop excusing Helluva Boss's stereotypes just because you want more episodes of a cartoon. These fictional characters are not more important than real people! It's a public show, and conservatives can and will see this episode it weaponize the imagery as a means to cause harm to us, the exact same way 4chan did so after episode 3 of S2. This shit is really getting out of hand. Which is all the reason why that my video on the Sallie May controversy will be released, Vivziepop will be held accountable, and I will make sure that not a single piece of vital info is excluded from that video in question.

#helluva boss #helluva boss criticism #tw transphobia #literally multiple people in different identities have now said that they dont like seeing their community being presented this way?#Not just with Vivziepop #But in general?#So maybe listen to them before coming after me for things people in the trans and drag community have now been verbally against MULTIPLE-#TIMES!#for YEARS now.#If we had this logic with all minorities and their civil rights my people would still be segregated smh. Gatekeeping solves nothing.

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