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#Susanna and the Old Men

mysterious-secret-garden · 10 months

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Franciszek Żmurko - Susanna and the Old Men, 1879.

#Franciszek Żmurko #Susanna and the Old Men #susana and the elders #lascivious

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ramadoodles · 5 months

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The many, many iterations of

Susanna and the Elders.

TW: Contains references to sexual assault and other harassment.

So my first exposure to a painting about Susanna and the Elders was the Artemisia Gentileschi painting of the same name.

I'm neither Christian nor Jewish, so I don't know the lore. But that painting makes it look like Susanna's probably about to be molested or raped. Susanna is struggling away from the men, and one of them is pulling at her hair and is whispering to the other. This is a pretty fucked up topic to make a painting on, especially considering that we're in the 17th century Baroque period. I reasonably assumed that the Catholic Church of the time wouldn't approve of painting too many stories about such graphic occurences, especially because Susanna didn't seem like some martyr saint- she's just some girl in a bad situation.

So imagine my surprise when I find even more Susanna and the Elders paintings. And somehow they're even worse.

...I mean, now I'm confused about the story. In the first painting Susanna's open gaze to the viewer makes me think she doesn't know what danger she's in yet. But then in the third painting one elder is grabbing her tit, and she looks like she's into it. I probably should read the actual story.

So according to the Book of Daniel, Susanna is a Jewish wife who is spied on while she bathes by two elders of her community. They later accost and proposition her during her bath, but she refuses them. In response, they accuse her of adultery. She's about to be put to death for her crime, when a young Prophet Daniel interrupts the proceedings. He cross-examines the two judges, their stories about Susanna's adultery don't match up, and they get stoned to death in her place.

Pretty dark story, but one thing is clear- Susanna was not interested in the elders. So why do some of these paintings (looking at you, tit-grab) look like the start of a porno? Also why is the darkest part of this tale such a popular subject to paint? Why not paint the stoning of the elders? It's a much happier scene to paint, and conveys the proper Christian themes of righteousness always prevailing.

Quoting liberally from Wikipedia, here's my deductions on the topic:

According to Mary Garrard, the scene has been unusually attractive to male artists and male art patrons as "an opportunity for legitimized voyeurism", an appeal heightened by the fact the naked woman in the story was being watched by lechers, allowing both the artist and the viewer of the painting a point of view character in the scene.

I really don't see how that's appealing. Shouldn't that make the viewer feel like they're seeing through the view of a rapist in this scene?

Garrard argues that the possession of a woman who has clearly said "no" is in fact rape, and that the depictions of Susanna and the Elders as being from the point of view of the elders are depictions from the point of view of attempted rapists.

Absolutely spot on, Ms. Garrard. It's also super weird how she's painted with such a neutral or even pleased expression in some of the paintings.

Susanna's dilemma is most often painted as not her desire to avoid being victimized but instead whether or not to give in to her presumed natural desire to have sex with two elderly blackmailers.

With all due respect, what the fuck? Who read the story and went 'this isn't about how blackmailing women for sex is wrong, but instead about how a woman must remain untempted in the face of old farts who cross her boundaries and won't take no for an answer.'

I know the answer. Rich old dudes with egos to soothe, that's who.

These paintings aren't really meant to be admired for the art, they're 17th century porn fetishes.

Here's another painting (by Rubens!) which really drives home the 'resist temptation' argument-

Rubens in his late 1630s portrayal places Susanna under an apple tree rather than a mastic or oak, a nod to Eve, the garden of Eden, and resisting, according to Mark Leach, "supreme temptation"; according to Garrard, the implication by both Leach and Rubens is that Susanna had to be very strong-willed indeed to resist the overwhelming attraction of being coerced into sex by two elderly lechers.

Yeah, that's fucked however you look at it. Also you know some old guy paid heavily for this commission.

On that depressing note, I gotta end the post because I'm running out of time. Here's a link to the Wikipedia page about Susanna and the Elders art, so y'all can see just how many paintings they've made for this topic alone.

#art #Susanna and the Elders #aka why do rich old men act this way

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manifesto-of-a-femcel · 10 months

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Beautiful Movies All Girls Should Watch

A list of movies that touch on coming of age, romance and complex female emotions.

May (2002): A socially awkward veterinary assistant with a lazy eye and obsession with perfection descends into depravity after developing a crush on a boy with perfect hands.

Audition (1999): A widower takes an offer to screen girls at a special audition, arranged for him by a friend to find him a new wife. The one he fancies is not who she appears to be after all.

Helter Skelter (2012): Top star Lilico undergoes multiple cosmetic surgeries to her entire body. As her surgeries show side effect, Lilico makes the lives of those around her miserable as she tries to deal with her career and her personal problems.

Ginger Snaps (2000): Two death-obsessed sisters, outcasts in their suburban neighborhood, must deal with the tragic consequences when one of them is bitten by a deadly werewolf.

The Craft (1996): A newcomer to a Catholic prep high school falls in with a trio of outcast teenage girls who practice witchcraft, and they all soon conjure up various spells and curses against those who anger them.

Malèna (2000): Amidst the war climate, a teenage boy discovering himself becomes love-stricken by Malèna, a sensual woman living in a small, narrow-minded Italian town.

Perfect Blue (1997): A retired pop singer turned actress’ sense of reality is shaken when she is stalked by an obsessed fan and seemingly a ghost of her past.

Rosemary’s Baby (1968): A young couple trying for a baby moves into an aging, ornate apartment building on Central Park West, where they find themselves surrounded by peculiar neighbors.

The Virgin Suicides (1999): A group of male friends become obsessed with five mysterious sisters who are sheltered by their strict, religious parents in suburban Detroit in the mid 1970s.

Sucker Punch (2011): A young girl institutionalized by her abusive stepfather retreats to an alternative reality as a coping strategy and envisions a plan to help her escape.

Piggy (2022): An overweight teen is bullied by a clique of cool girls poolside while holidaying in her village. The long walk home will change the rest of her life.

The Love Witch (2016): A modern-day witch uses spells and magic to get men to fall in love with her, with deadly consequences.

Pearl (2022): In 1918, a young woman on the brink of madness pursues stardom in a desperate attempt to escape the drudgery, isolation and lovelessness of life on her parents' farm.

Girl, Interrupted (1999): Based on writer Susanna Kaysen's account of her 18-month stay at a mental hospital in the late 1960s.

Black Swan (2010): Nina is a talented but unstable ballerina on the verge of stardom. Pushed to the breaking point by her artistic director and a seductive rival, Nina's grip on reality slips, plunging her into a waking nightmare.

Gone Girl (2014): With his wife's disappearance having become the focus of an intense media circus, a man sees the spotlight turned on him when it's suspected that he may not be innocent.

Jennifer’s Body (2009): A newly-possessed high-school cheerleader turns into a succubus who specializes in killing her male classmates. Can her best friend put an end to the horror?

Bones And All (2022): Coming of age romance about two cannibals

In the Mood for Love (2000): Two neighbors form a strong bond after both suspect extramarital activities of their spouses. However, they agree to keep their bond platonic so as not to commit similar wrongs.

Brokeback Mountain (2005): Ennis and Jack are two shepherds who develop a sexual and emotional relationship. Their relationship becomes complicated when both of them get married to their respective girlfriends.

Call Me By Your Name (2017): In 1980s Italy, romance blossoms between a seventeen-year-old student and the older man hired as his father's research assistant.

Maurice (1986): Two English school chums find themselves falling in love at Cambridge. To regain his place in society, Clive gives up Maurice and marries. While staying with Clive and his wife, Maurice discovers romance in the arms of the gamekeeper Alec.

Y Tu Mamá También (2001): In Mexico, two teenage boys and an attractive older woman embark on a road trip and learn a thing or two about life, friendship, sex, and each other.

Caroline (2009): An adventurous 11-year-old girl finds another world that is a strangely idealized version of her frustrating home, but it has sinister secrets.

Corpse Bride (2005): When a shy groom practices his wedding vows in the inadvertent presence of a deceased young woman, she rises from the grave assuming he has married her.

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loudrats · 4 months

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Loud Rats Book Club 2023

This year the rats became literate!

We suggested a number of books each month and then voted on one to read (somehow Fish managed to read all 12 of them… wild!). The ones in red are the winners, but there are some other really good books in there.

Hopefully you can find your next favourite read below! :)

January

Piranesi by Susanna Clarke

The Alchemist by Paulo Coelho

Hangsaman by Shirley Jackson

The Butchering Art by Lindsay Fitzharris

Earthlings by Sayaka Murata

Drive Your Plow Over the Bones of the Dead by Olga Tokarczuk

Why Fish Don't Exist by Lulu Miller

The Death of Ivan Ilyich by Tolstoy

Fledgling by Octavia Butler

Pirates and Prejudice by Kara Louise

If Beale Street Could Talk by James Baldwin

February

Adua by Igiaba Scego

The Left Hand of Darkness by Ursula K Le Guin

Detransition, Baby by Torrey Peters

The Passion by Jeanette Winterson

Upright Women Wanted by Sarah Gailey

March

Anna Karenina by Leo Tolstoy

The Humans by Matt Haig

Cane by Jean Toomer

Book of Disquiet by Fernando Pessoa

The Memory Police by Yōko Ogawa

The Fifth Season by N. K. Jemisin (#1 Broken Earth Trilogy)

Young Mungo by Douglas Stewart

April

Hamnet by Maggie O’Farrel

Dubliners by James Joyce

The Tiger's Wife by Téa Obreht

My Cousin Rachel by Daphne du Maurier

On Earth We're Briefly Gorgeous by Ocean Vuong

Entangled Life by Merlin Sheldrake

May

Mary: An Awakening of Terror by Nat Cassidy

No Country for Old Men by Cormac McCarthy

Our Wives Under the Sea by Julia Armfield

Where You Come From by Saša Stanišić

Wuthering Heights by Emily Brontë

Gwen and Art Are Not in Love by Lex Croucher

June

Death in Her Hands by Ottessa Moshfegh

Our Hideous Progeny by C. E. McGill

Swimming in the dark by Tomasz Jędrowski

Girls like Girls by Hayley Kiyoko

Diary of a Wimpy Kid 17 by Jeff Kinney

Zami: A New Spelling of my Name by Audre Lorde

Lesser Known Monsters of the 21st Century by Kim Fu

The Long Way to a Small Angry Planet by Becky Chambers

July

Kid Youtuber 9: Everything is Fine by Marcus Emerson, Noah Child

Bored Gay Werewolf by Tony Santorella

Hit Parade Of Tears by Izumi Suzuki

When Death Takes Something from You Give It Back: Carl's Book by Naja Marie Aidt

Pandora's Jar by Natalie Haynes

The Decagon House Murders by Yukito Ayatsuji

The Summer Book by Tove Jansson

Mapping the Interior by Stephan Graham Jones

August

Camp Damascus by Chuck Tingle

Small Game by Blair Braverman

Free: Coming of Age at the End of History by Lea Ypi

September

Hag-Seed by Margaret Atwood

The Employees: A workplace novel of the 22nd century by Olga Ravn

Fight Club by Chuck Palahniuk

October

Linghun by Ai Jiang

Eyes Guts Throat Bones by Moira Fowley-Doyle

The City of Dreaming Books by Walter Moers

The Half Life of Valery K by Natasha Pulley

Catch the Rabbit by Lana Bastašić

Kindred by Octavia Butler

November

Slaughterhouse Five by Kurt Vonnegut

Life For Sale by Yukio Mishima

We Have Always Lived in the Castle by Shirley Jackson

Liberation Day by George Saunders

Ripe by Sarah Rose Etter

Eugene Onegin by Alexander Pushkin

Giovanni’s Room by James Baldwin

December

Arsène Lupin versus Herlock Sholmes by Maurice Leblanc

The Hobbit by JRR Tolkien

Minor Detail by Adania Shibli

Prophet Song by Paul Lynch

Migrations by Charlotte McConaghy

#loud rats #book club #to be clear the ones who won weren’t the BEST choice we just love democracy here

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fashionlandscapeblog · 5 months

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Isaac Feldman

Susanna and Old Men, 2017

Oil on canvas.

#isaac feldman #neo cubism #cubism #art #painting #contemporary painting #contemporary art #figurative painting #figurative art #oil painting #oil on canvas

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katrinsupernova · 10 months

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«Once, men and women were able to turn themselves into eagles and fly immense distances. They communed with rivers and mountains and received wisdom from them. They felt the turning of the stars inside their own minds. My contemporaries did not understand this. They were all enamoured with the idea of progress and believed that whatever was new must be superior to what was old. As if merit was a function of chronology! But it seemed to me that the wisdom of the ancients could not have simply vanished. Nothing simply vanishes. It’s not actually possible.»

Illustration series for Piranesi by Susanna Clarke

#Illustration #Book Illustration #piranesi #piranesi by Susanna Clarke #susanna clarke #watercolor #watercolor art #watercolor illustration #beloved child of the house

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artthatgivesmefeelings · 8 months

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(Guercino) Giovanni Francesco Barbieri (Italian, 1591-1666) Susannah and the Elders, 1617 Museo Nacional del Prado

According to the Old Testament (Daniel:13), Archian and Sedechia were two elderly judges who regularly visited the home of a rich man named Joachim to discuss certain cases. One hot day, Joachim’s wife, Susanna, was bathing in one of the fountains at her house without noticing that the old men were watching her from a hiding place. They had desired her for quite some time, and on this occasion tried to molest her. After Susanna resisted them, they accused her of adultery. Judge Daniel demonstrated her innocence and the death sentence was handed down to the two old men.

#fine art #giovanni francesco barbieri #art #italian art #italian #italy #european art #classical art #europe #european #oil painting #mediterranean #fine arts #europa #susannah and the elders #1600s #bible #western civilization #christentum

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mostlyghostie · 1 year

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Fantasy Recommendations Wanted

I already have 28 unread books to read before I purchase anything else, nevertheless, I want some very specific recommendations on fantasy books!

I have enjoyed lots of fantasy in the past (Pratchett being the bridge for ten year old me from kid books to non-kid books before the age of YA) but 99% of the books shelved in a bookshop Fantasy/Sci-Fi section leave me cold.

My absolute favourite fantasy novels are:

The His Dark Materials series by Phillip Pullman

The Earthsea series by Ursula LeGuin

Little, Big by John Crowley

Lud in the Mist by Hope Mirless

The Princess Bride by William Goldman

The Djinn in the Nightingale’s Eye by AS Byatt

The Buried Giant by Kazuo Ishiguro

Both of Susanna Clarke’s novels (Piranesi and Jonathan Strange and Mr Norrel)

The Once and Future King by TH White

Also, not a novel, but Jim Henson’s The Storyteller series is the epitome of fairytale storytelling as far as I’m concerned, where everything happens after a year and a day or in a week with two Sundays or to a seventh son of a seventh son. The story The Luck Child in particular still makes me well up.

The issue is, that although I absolutely adore those books listed above, that’s about as far as it goes, almost everything else I try does nothing for me. I’ve read all of Pratchett, Gaiman and Tolkien too and enjoy them (The Watch books, Troll Bridge and The Hobbit being my favourite of each). I like the first few Robin Hobb books, I like the bits I choose to like from Narnia, I liked the first Scott Lynch book and I liked/detested The Magicians series in equal measure.

So, what am I missing? I much prefer whimsy to grizzled be-stubbled men with a grudge, I much prefer a magic system to be based on endearing nonsense rather than maths and physics and if I’ve not listed a major series/trilogy of some kind then I’ve probably tried and not liked it. I’m not particularly interested in YA (a personal preference rather than a value judgment!)

Recommendations gleefully accepted!

#not art #books #fantasy books #booklr

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artsof · 3 months

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Susanna at her Bath | Francesco Hayez | 1850 | London National Gallery

"Hayez was the leading artist of mid-19th-century Milan, renowned for his elegant draughtsmanship and polished execution. The Old Testament story of Susanna bathing provided him with a pretext for painting one of his favourite subjects, the female nude"

A description from an exhibition at Wallraf-Richartz-Museum in Cologne (December 2022):

"Alone with Susanna

A Susanna almost without the Elders. The painter only vaguely indicates the two old men in the background between the trees - obscured by light from behind and the haze of dawn. Looking over her shoulder Susanna identifies the real intruder in the intimate bathing scene: the viewer! The voyeuristic perspective puts him in the position of the Elders - pleasurably enjoying the scene or embarrassed? Casually supporting herself on one arm, with her crossed leg elegantly pointing in our direction, Susanna appears self-confident rather than alarmed. The same applies to her slight upward gaze that fascinates us - almost hypnotically. Is she giving us the "cold shoulder" as a calculated form of provocation? "

#Susanna at her Bath #francesco hayez #London #london national gallery #susanna #old testament #milan #academism #romantism

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the-lightbulb-and-the-octopus · 4 months

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24 in 2024

@logarithmicpanda tagged me, which is amazing because books. Thank you!

Anyway, I have a... nonsensical way of choosing what I'm going to read so this list is very much not a real goal (kidding, once the list is written, it will automatically become a goal for my brain). Let's go!

Colour coding: Ebook backlog Physical backlog Classics

The Bone Witch (#2 & #3) by Rin Chupeco

The Gods of Men (#1, #2 & #3) by Barbara Kloss

The Starless Sea by Erin Morgenstern

The Lost Apothecary by Sarah Penner

The Order of the Pure Moon Reflected in Water by Zen Cho

Babel by R. F. Kuang

The Woman in the Library by Sulari Gentill

When the Angels Left the Old Country by Sacha Lamb

Or What You Will by Jo Walton

The Salt Grows Heavy by Cassandra Khaw

The Foundling by Stacey Halls

Mrs. England by Stacey Halls

If You Could See Me Now by Cecilia Ahern

Le Chant des cavalières by Jeanne Mariem Corrèze

L'ensorceleur des choses menues by Régis Goddyn

Jonathan Strange & Mr Norrell by Susanna Clarke

De la part de la princesse morte by Kenizé Mourad

Le Désert des couleurs by Aurélie Wellenstein

Something Wicked This Way Comes by Ray Bradbury

A Christmas Carol by Charles Dickens

Things Fall Apart by Chinua Achebe

The Castle of Otranto by Horace Walpole

Vilette by Charlotte Brontë

Northanger Abbey by Jane Austen

I know, I put two series as one book, but in my defence, these are carried over from 2023's goals and I really want to finish them.

Open tag for anyone who would want to do it, as always!

#books #reading #24 in 2024 #tag game #my tendancy to buy physical in French shines through again

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tomcriuse · 1 year

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Interview with the Vampire by Anne Rice / A Series of Unfortunate Events (2004) dir. Brad Silberling / Mansfield Park by Jane Austen / Piranesi by Susanna Clarke / No Country for Old Men by Cormac McCarthy / Magnolia (1999) dir. Paul Thomas Anderson / No Country for Old Men / letterboxd review of Minority Report (2002) by Logan Kenny / Obi Wan Kenobi (2022) dir. Deborah Chow / All Star by Smash Mouth / Wise Blood by Flannery O’Connor / Mort by Terry Pratchett

#do you understand. do you see what i am saying #txt

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yeehawpurgatory · 1 year

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Luck and Warmth

❄️🌨Seasons Greetings!🏔🌬This is my RDR secret winter exhange gift for @danger-r-98-5 I hope you enjoy this!

🎄Merry Christmas & Happy Holidays to everyone 🤍💚❤️

I took inspiration from prompt #2: aka one kisses the other in the spur of the moment after a job gone bad, and momentarily freaks out until?…;)

Pairing: Arthur Morgan x John Marston

Summary: Arthur and John occupy each other’s spaces in a small cabin while out on a job—a job that doesn’t pan out the way either thought it would. They spend their time together, eating, sleeping, talking, and keeping warm. When their job goes wrong, they deal with it together too. Even when that involves free falling into a river for John, and giving into his feelings for Arthur.

Words: 5k+

@rdrevents

A cold wind comes down from Mount Shann, rustling trees and howling just outside; the two of them are held up in a small cabin just north of Strawberry. The windows are bare and the wood is soft in some places, but it’s finer living than Arthur and John had seen in the past few days.

Finer, and real intimate.

John’s standing in the corner closest to the fireplace. Naked as a jaybird, with the pride of a stray dog, he washes his body with a rag and water straight from the boiling pot, poured into a bucket which had surely seen better days. Arthur doesn’t bother teasing him about the predicament; John has a hard enough time bathing when it wasn’t ball shriveling-ly cold outside.

It’s one of the only noises in the cabin—water ringing out of a rag, dipped into a bucket, squeezed, over and over; that, and the gusts of wind hitting the cabin. Howling outside. Water, wind, the crackling fire, and Marston’s off-tuned humming oh Susanna as he washes. A raspy sound, like a steam whistle through scrap metal pipes. A broken, damaged whistling sound. Arthur chuckles at the comparison he’s drawn.

“Somethin’ funny?” John barks with no bite.

“Not really, no.” Arthur says as he hides his amusement from the younger man.

Trelawny heard from a friend— who’d heard from their friend no doubt— something about a gaggle of boys down this way, robbing whoever they ran into on these roads. A small gang of about five or so men, mostly cow-milkers and shit-shovellers, all deciding to give the outlaw life a try. They were coming up from Strawberry in a few days supposedly. If the tip was good, then these boys carried with them weeks worth of loot they’d managed to steal.

With the camp well stocked, well prepared, and well fed, Arthur prepared for what was supposed to be a long solo trip; well in his territory. Only, Marston was sent along with him at the last second.

Hosea said it was a well needed trip for the two, that it could be a bonding experience of sorts. Of course he’d only said it whilst feigning ignorance. Arthur was sure Hosea conspired with Dutch to send both of them off to ‘mend their relationship.’ He’d caught them talking to each other as he packed, eyeing him and Marston all the while. This was an easy job, but nonetheless, they’d shoved John at him. Again. Probably in hopes that the two of them would rid themselves of the last bit of animosity they felt towards each other.

Dutch had all but said it when he’d waved them off, “and don’t come back until you like eachother again!”

A cold breeze sweeps the cabin. From the corner of his eye, John flinches. “Shit! It’s cold!”

Arthur makes it a point to stare down at his lap. He’s perched on an old wooden chair cleaning his Schofield in front of the fire. John is awfully close to him, in this tight cabin they share.

He swallows roughly when Marston cusses and stomps around bare-assed, now in his eyeline; the young man is oblivious to the funny feeling that starts to pool in Arthur’s gut, and travels lower than he’d like. Arthur clears his throat.

He could make a joke. Or a snide comment. Something to cut the tension which only really exists in his own mind; but Arthur bites his tongue.

Thing is, something about their relationship had in fact changed. Though thankfully, no one else had noticed.

He can pinpoint the moment something had shifted in his interactions with the younger man. Shoulders heavy from burying two of their flock, eyelids drooping shut and threatening to freeze over; things had changed back in the hellish cold of Colter. There was something…something Arthur can’t explain, which took him over after they’d found John bleeding and starving and damn-near frozen to death.

That ‘something’ ached his chest every time he wound up in that cabin weeks ago, changing Marston’s bandages and spooning him watery broth. While he watched his friend fight off feverish infection, face held together by nothing but thin stitching thread.

That sight of John is burned into his brain. In front of his eyes.

Maybe it was seeing John close to his possible end, knowing death could come for any of them on that mountain, and knowing what it felt like to bury his friends in the snow— Arthur desperately wants to forget that feeling.

Whatever took hold of him right now—for whatever reason, had him feeling some things Arthur used to hope and pray would go away. Feelings which plagued him as a youth, in the back of his mind, that despite the love surrounding him, he tried to bury deep within himself. Feelings which arose for Marston of all folk. It started some odd years ago.

At first he thought he was sick, then he thought he was crazy; unfortunately, he was infatuated.

“Throw another log in the fire would ya’? I’m freezing my jewels off!”

Arthur’s lip quirked up. He tossed another splintered log into the old fireplace.

“Need anythin’ else, your highness?” Arthur teased and turned to John, who was thankfully fully dressed now. Wearing some old thick trousers that had once belonged to Dutch, with a shirt and black coat over Arthurs own spare union suit. His scarf and gloves were set out to dry on the table by the fire.

“Could use some food since ya’ offered.” He hauled the washbucket outside, dumping the dirty water as Arthur stabbed a hunk of meat on a knife and stuck it over the open flames.

________________________________________________________

A while later they sat on their bedrolls eating their dinner consisting of a chunk of meat straight off the knife, a can of warmed beans they passed back and forth, and a stale bread roll each.

Arthur had last hunted three days ago. The provisions bag had gone down considerably, they ate more than usual to keep warm, and for something to do to avoid too many moments of silence. Though, to credit them both, there hadn’t been a real tiff, or awkward moment between the two men this whole trip.

John could even say they’d managed a few good conversations here and there. Arthur bit back his clever comments, and John held back a good amount of stupid questions, and as easy as that they were acting like old— if not distant —friends again.

“You want the bourbon or the gin?” Arthur asked after cleaning up and sitting down. The older man was bundled in his blue winter coat, wrapping it around his broad shoulders like it was a blanket. It was too damn cold to forgo boots and gloves in the evening, so he wore those too.

“Hand me the gin.”

Arthur scrunched his face in disgust and passed the half-finished gin bottle John was working his way through. He sipped it while he contemplated.

When they’d left camp Arthur was miles away in his own head like he often seemed to be. At first John thought it was just because of him, his presence alone could piss the older man off.

Or, it used to.

Morgan was acting funny these past few weeks. Since the gang had left Colter, John noticed. Not funny bad, just…different. Friendlier . Like he was suddenly fond of John as he once had been; as fond as he were before John decided enough was enough, and ran off on his own. The worst of the animosity had run its course, John reckoned, because Morgan was acting downright soft with him these days. Thank God for this change, for whatever caused it.

John had long grown tired of being hated by someone like Arthur. Someone he couldn’t deny he felt…strongly for. He ain’t one to label his emotions, preferring instead to let them come and go easy, like an unwanted visitor. What he felt for Arthur though, it couldn’t be ignored if he tried; and tried he had for too damn long.

“Nasty thing.” The older man sipped on his own bourbon. A few drops slipped down his chin and trailed down his neck. John watched as the liquid disappeared down into Morgan's shirt. His mouth watered.

“That’s why you only need a few mouthfuls.” John took a swig and swallowed it with an exaggerated sigh. Hopefully swallowing down any indecent thoughts.

John has suspicions about Morgan’s newfound fondness. Namely that it had something to do with Blackwater, when John sided with Arthur and Hosea’s judgement over Dutch’s. Or maybe it started when Morgan found him nearly dead in the snow. Maybe that gave Arthur a scare? Maybe it shocked him enough to make the older man forget his anger? To let it fizzle out, even?

Lord knows it shocked him in its own way. John was sure Arthur hated him; the last thing he thought he’d see on the brink of death was Morgan showing up out of thin air and saving his ass. It weren’t even the first time, neither.

“Few more days.” John broke the easy silence and took another swig.

He would be lying if he said he wasn’t sort of sad for the end of this job. This was the most time they spent together since before John left. It was oddly domestic, their little routine. Taking turns cooking and hauling fresh water from nearby, tending to the fire, drinking, talking, just shooting the shit like the old days. He’s going to miss this when they get back to camp, the quiet domesticity of sharing a space with Arthur alone.

“Few more days indeed.” Arthur answered him. John swore he sounded somber; he blamed the drink. “I’m goin’ hunting tomorrow. Might see if I can catch something nice for us.” He takes a big mouthful of bourbon.

Despite the cold Arthur’s got the top few buttons of his shirt undone. It’s hard not to stare at the swirl of chest hair peeking though. It’s downright impossible for John not to notice the way fabric stretches and moves over Morgan’s muscled arms too. If he stared any longer he’d start drooling. Wouldn’t that be something?

“Bout’ damn time. I’m awful sick of rabbit.” They’ve been eating rabbit at least twice a day for a few days now. John chuckled and took another swig. A pleasant heaviness had set into his limbs, he blinked slower.

“You got a special request for me then? Seeing as it’s my job to find em’, hunt em’ and cook em, there oughta be somethin’ for you to do then?”

Arthur’s ribbing was playful, gentle. John was still technically on the mend. His face was still raw in the worst parts, his arm and leg ache in the cold the way old wounds do. He sat around just as much here as he did in Horseshoe.

“There is. Listenin’ to your big mouth and eating your shit cookin’.”

Slow in his movement thanks to the drink, John couldn’t dodge the damp balled up sock thrown right at his head. Instead, he threw his damp drawers in retaliation.

“Mars—ah! You son of a bitch!” Arthur squaked. John outright laughed at the sound.

He threw a spoon next; John dodged and threw the sock back.

Arthur swerved and tossed an empty can; John chucked a horsebrush.

Arthur picked up a tin cup; there wasn’t anything close enough for John to grab.

“Okay, okay!” John holds up his waving arms in surrender. Arthur eyes him considerably. Then slowly places the tin cup down as John lowers his arms.

Nobody moves, and John lets loose the breath he’d been holding. “Thank you…” he sighs.

Arthur’s still got his blue eyes watching John’s every move.

The second he drops his guard John lunges forward—he tackles Morgan.

“That ain’t fair!” Arthur’s coat slips off. He fights against John’s arms wrapped around his middle, vying for leverage of sorts.

“Ain’t nothin’ fair in life Morgan!”

The two of them fall to the ground. They wrestle like boys for a moment. All messy limbs and wriggling, in seconds they’re cussing up a storm and huffing between their fit of growing laughter. Arthur gets the upper-hand and throws his weight around, pinning a wriggling John under him. They haven't done this in forever—scraping and wrestling just for the fun of it. John had missed this more than he thought; though eventually enough was enough. If Arthur didn’t stop moving and get off, John would have a big, stiff, problem.

Legs tired from kicking and arms pinned above his head, with a heaving chest and a toothy grin, John barks out, “YIELD!”

Arthur eases off him with a heavy groan, rolling onto his back just beside John. They’re both breathing heavily, chests rising up and down, the sound of their panting fills the cabin. John turns his head to look at Arthur. The older man was already looking at him, his lips pulled into a lazy smile. John hadn’t seen Morgan so content in a while.

He looked damn-good too, with his hair dishevelled and shirt bunched up in odd places, a hazy relaxed look on his face.

“Shit…” Morgan breathed out, still smiling. He pulled himself upright with a groan, arm feeling the ground around him for the bourbon. He took a long, slow sip, swallowing with a sigh. “Y’fight dirty,” he slurs. Taking another sip.

John scoffs. “Damn right. Never stopped fightin’ dirty…” he trailed off. John reaches around for his own bottle and gulps down a shot when he’s sat upright.

They drink some more together. When the world around John starts to spin he closes his eyes and lays back.

When he opens them next he’s carefully laid out onto his bedroll closest to the fire, his coat laid over him like a blanket. There’s a weight against his back, light snoring in his ears, and the familiar warmth only another person could give.

They’ve taken to sleeping like this for warmth in the chilly nights in the cabin, settling beside each other, that is. At first it scared him, the idea of being so physically close to the other man again, but all that went away when John had woken up in the morning; refreshed like he couldn’t believe, and happier than he’d felt in a long while.

It’s the closest they’ve been in years, and John relished in every second of it.

______________________________________________________

A few more good days passed and it was finally time.

Arthur spotted a group of misfits matching Trelawny’s description of the gang they were after. Young looking, green looking. These kids wouldn’t be much of a fight. With John and him shooting, they’d be up and outta there in minutes. It’s that easy.

They were still too close to Strawberry. It’s one thing outriding a bunch of kids, but the law was another issue entirely. Arthur shook his head and pocketed his binoculars. It wasn’t worth it to shoot too soon and risk drawing lawmen or armed townsfolk their way.

They’ll have to trail them then. Be patient, that is.

Arthur led the way, the two men following a good distance from the small gang as they rode off path.

They just had to bide their time. It was going just fine.

Until it wasn’t.

“Arthur.”

John’s tone was urgent as he whispered. “Arthur, behind us, careful.”

Between scouting for the gang between the trees and keeping a good distance away, Arthur paid no mind to the clopping of horses behind them. He took one glance over the shoulder and cussed. Why now?

Bounty Hunters.

He glances at John. The younger man held the reign with just one hand, the other hovered over his holstered Cattleman.

“Just keep yer’ head down, they might be here for them boys,” he tells John. Wouldn’t that be lucky? Even if they weren’t here for him or Marston, Arthur is certain they’ll be recognized. Him at least. He has Micah’s little shootout to thank for that; dammit—Arthur thought he’d been careful not to be seen around.

If luck is in fact on their side, then these men would ride onward, past the pair and keep going.

Unfortunately for them, the riders don’t pass by. One of the Bounty Hunters rode up close to them.

“Afternoon sirs,” the Bounty Hunter tips his hat. Another one rides up beside John. “You boys seen or heard anything strange about?” His tone is even and his expression is nearly friendly. His farce is betrayed by the pistol in his hand and the men who start to surround them.

He looks at John. His jaw is clenched shut and his hand hovers.

“Can’t say we have, sorry.” Arthur tries to keep his voice low, his demeanour normal, but his fingers twitch of their own accord.

The man nearest to Marston shifted in his saddle, trying and failing to discreetly look at John’s face. Something like urgency flashes in the man’s eyes.

Arthur’s hand inches slowly to his own holstered weapon.

“Jesus, what happened to you?”

John stares angrily at the Bounty Hunter before spitting out his response, “wolves.”

“Speaking of, this area’s full of those bastards. And we ain’t seen nothing strange ‘round these parts.” Arthur spoke slowly, leisurely. Or attempted to. “So why don’t you boys check the main road might be that—”

A split second later—a pistol aimed right at Arthur’s face. He had no time to move, to think and—

BANG!!!

Blood spattered all over Arthur. His ears rang, and for a horrible moment, he thought he’d been hit.

Another shot rang out. By now Arthur’s head caught up with what was happening.

John had drawn and shot both men dead just then—and now they were running for their lives.

Goddamn gang of hoodlums couldn’t know just how lucky they were right now.

_________________________________________________

“Leave em’ here, we’ll run up this way!”

John listened to him, he smacked his horse on the ass and watched it ride off. He followed Arthur up a steep pathway. The two braced on one another as they climbed uneven terrain and slippery rocks. It was Arthur who’d been out and about, he knew this area better and so he led.

“Should we split up?” John asked between breaths. His lungs were burning. After a few days of sitting pretty and smoking until his chest hurt, this was the last thing he needed.

“No—keep runnin’!”

Arthur grabbed his arm and yanked him forward—forcing John to keep up even as his vision began to blur and spots danced in front of his eyes. His bad leg buckled.

“Shit!”

John blinked heavily, trying to see clearly. When he did, his eyes widened.

Arthur had led them to the edge of a hill overlooking a rapid river. The sight of the water made John dizzy instantly. He looked at Arthur, who looked at him, still clasping the fabric of his coat.

“John we—I think we gotta jump.”

He stares at Arthur in pure bewilderment.

NO! He can’t! Arthur knows he can’t—John would take his chances running off on foot, or one on one with all those Bounty Hunters. Or lawmen. Or wolves. Or the noose—again. Just not this.

“John.” Arthur urges, voice stern, serious. Absolute. “We ain’t that high up.”

“I—I can’t. You know a—”

The shouting of men is too close for comfort.

“Can’t we just shoot em?” John grimaces at the helplessness in his voice. At the shaking—the raw fear in his tone.

Suddenly the rapids from below echo in his ears, making his head hurt. They weren’t that high up, but it’s not the height alone that scares him. Cold air be damned, John was sweating.

“Marston…” Arthur isn’t angry, but oddly sympathetic. “You know how big a group these bastards travel in. We can’t risk drawing more out, if we haven't already.”

John’s mouth opens to protest, but once again, he can’t find the words. “Fuck.” His knees feel weak, he feels shaky, stiff, how’s he supposed to do this? How was he supposed to jump?

“Arthur, I…I can’t do it.”

The voices were so close, John was expecting them to show up any second. Fuck! What else could he do? Surrender?

“John.” Arthur’s mouth is set rigid in a tense line.

“A-Arthur.” John can feel his lip curl down and begin to tremble, his eyes are already filled to the brim. Damn his weakness, damn his stupid fear. Fuck.

Arthur’s hand trails lower, and lower, until he’s clasping John’s hand in an iron grip. John chokes at the resolve in the older man’s eyes. The protectiveness.

This is the man he trusts the most.

“If you won’t do it, then I won’t.” Arthur sounds completely sure of it. “They’ll shoot on sight Johnny, I ain’t leaving you here to face that alone.”

The words take John’s breath away. If anyone would follow John to an untimely demise, despite there being a way out just a few feet away, it would be Arthur; It’s only right that John do the same. Nevermind he’s so scared he might puke or pass out.

He shakes his head, the silence is enough of an answer. He squeezes back, keeping Arthur’s hand in a vice grip. He hopes his shaking isn’t that bad.

“Here!” A man’s voice rang out, then Bounty Hunters were swarming around them. “Stop—!”

The two men break into a run.

They gain momentum. John is still holding Arthur’s hand when they jump off the ledge. There’s shots flying around them—but all John can hear is the sound of his own screaming and the wind whipping past his ears as he falls.

Still, Arthur hasn’t let him go.

______________________________________________________

One two three…one two three…one two three…

“C’mon, please, please…” He couldn’t pretend the wetness in his eyes was anything else but tears. John was limp, too damn pale, and Arthur couldn’t tell if he was breathing or not.

Arthur held John’s hand for as long as he could. He still held it tight when they hit the water in a breath stealing impact. Immediately, the cold water had shocked him; all it did for John was make him panic and flail. He tried. Lord. He did. Arthur tried to pull himself and John toward solid ground, but he couldn’t keep them both up, and also fight the rapids threatening to pull them in.

It was a Goddamn rock in the end. John had hit a rock, hard. Then he went slack. His hand slipped from Arthur’s and he was gone. Disappearing under water and making Arthur’s blood run cold.

…two three…One two three…One two three…one two—

“Not like this, Marston, come on!...” He will wake up. He will. He had too.

One more round of pushing on John’s chest—and his eyes finally fly open. Thank the Lord.

John gagged and coughed, violent spasms wracked his body. Arthur turned him on his side. Bouts of water came up, spilling out his cracked-slashed lips. He wretched, ugly vomiting, and gasping for breath. It was the loveliest sound Arthur had ever heard. Thank. God.

Arthur tugged John upright, gathered him into his arms, trying to hide just how much he was shaking. He held a breathless John close, running his hands up and down the younger man’s arms and muttering soothing words as soft as he could manage. “It’s okay John. Breathe boy, you got it, easy, easy, yer’ okay John.”

He shushed John when he whimpered. Shushed him and held his hand again and squeezed. John squeezed back.

“M’right here, I gotcha.”

John clenches a fistful of Arthur’s soaking coat, pulling himself up with a cracked groan. The younger man leans on him, and for a moment they just breathe together. Then, John’s shoulders begin to tremble, and Arthur stills.

“Marston?” John shakes his head. He hiccups, a breathy, wheezy, gasping noise. Was he crying? Was he hurt anywhere?

“God.. damn!”

The fool was laughing.

“I can’t believe we just did that!” His laugh is one of disbelief. “Can’t believe I just…” he gasps. “And you—God!...”

His heart pounded hard within his chest. Now that John was conscious, safe, in his arms, Arthur’s fear subsided. Absurd excitement took over.

He was crazy…—

—he really jumped.

John was crazy too, he jumped alongside Arthur. The two of them were crazy, lucky fools together.

Oh but he survived, they both did. Oh Thank God. He pulls away just enough to cup John’s face and take a good look at him. His eyes were droopy, body tired from more than just heaving water. That, and he had a nasty looking bruise on his forehead.

He trusts him. John trusted him enough to do this—to face his biggest fear. Arthur’s heart swells. Before he knows it, he’s peppering kisses all over John’s face.

One on his nose, one atop his slashed cheek, one pressed softly on his bruised forehead, on his chin, the other cheek…

Good God. He felt…he felt alive. Giddy in a way he’s only ever felt when he’s narrowly avoided death or capture. They did it!...

He kisses John right on his lips.

Then, Arthur freezes. Ice cold dread fills his gut. Oh Lord…did he just? His stomach flipped...Oh no…

“Uh-Arthur?” The younger man’s lips are parted slightly, eyes wide in surprise. John doesn’t sound horrified—or disgusted; but the utter confusion in his voice makes Arthur want to tuck tail and bolt. He can’t, he’s still the only thing keeping Marston upright, but the urge to run is there. It’s there and it’s strong. He closes his eyes to avoid staring at John. Oh you moron Morgan…

…Arthur jumps when a gentle, calloused, wet hand trails up his throat, and around the back of his neck. Fingers tangled in his dripping hair, and John pulls himself, tilts his head up, and kisses Arthur right back.

When they part, Arthur doesn’t speak. He can’t. His throat is too tight, constricted; but John sounds just fine now.

“C’mere…” John kisses him again—and this time Arthur dips his head down, leaning into the kiss. He’s waited so long for this, to want and be wanted back—it was heavenly. A soft groan escapes his mouth. It’s embarrassing, his eagerness that is, but John smiles against his lips.

When they pull apart next it’s with a gasp from both. He stares at John’s face, at his lopsided grin and his cloudy grey eyes. This time Arthur has some words.

“Yer’ bleedin’.”

John must’ve hit his arm, there’s a small patch of blood near his shoulder.

“And yer’ freezin’.” John says with a goofy smile.

______________________________________________________

It’s too big a risk getting a room in town.

Their horses beat them to the cabin.

The second they’re inside Arthur eases John in front of the fireplace. John’s hands stay clenched in Arthur’s soaking blue coat as he tugs at it. Morgan gets the idea and loses it, untucking his shirt and shucking his suspenders. By the time he’s naked the fire’s good and going. John is so fucking cold he can’t rightly appreciate the scene unfolding before his very eyes.

Arthur’s hands are shaking just as much as his own as the two work on getting John out of his soaking clothes. When it’s done and he’s just as bare as Arthur, he grabs a blanket. John throws it over the other man’s shoulders, and rubs his arms up and down.

“What’re you doin’?”

“Warmin’ you. Trying too, I mean.”

Arthur smiled at him. He grabbed an old dry shirt and used it to dry John’s hair in return. His fingers felt so good on John’s scalp, even with the barrier of fabric it was like a massage. John’s rhythm faltered as Arthur worked away the knots from his scalp to his neck. He dried him, and draped him in a blanket next to the fire.

John sighs at the heat coming off in waves, he sticks his hands and feet as close as they could get to the fire. Warming fingers and toes through in seconds.

“Let me take a look at you.” Arthur’s drawl matched the fire somehow, red and hot. Warmth grew in his gut and spread through his body, making him feel good and heavy. Though, it could also be the tiredness setting into his bones.

John freed his arm from beneath the blanket. Arthur surveyed the cut. With tender hands he cleaned and wrapped it, gentle assurances slipping past his lips. Not that it was needed, the cut was a shallow thing; but John wouldn’t trade Arthur taking his time with him, being soft with him for anything. Absolutely nothing.

“C’mere.” He says when Arthur finally stops fussing about. John lifts the large blanket up. It’s big enough for two men as big as themselves to sit side by side, both wrapped up; so long as they sit real close.

The last of the coldness dissipates. They leaned on each other. Warm and tight-knit. Arthur’s got his face hidden in his hair; John’s got his face hidden in the crook of Morgan’s neck. John might call this cozy, if the wind would just ease up a bit.

He can’t possibly know what the other man is thinking, but John knows one thing. He’s never been happier a job fell through.

“I thought.” He pays attention when Arthur lifts his head and clears his throat to speak. “I thought you was gonna hit me or start cryin’.”

“Almost did.” John chuckles. Arthur loosened the arm he had wrapped around his waist, making John bristle.

“Sorry. I didn’t mean to-uh…I shoulda’ asked if you were fine with…”

“Fine with…jumping off a God-damn cliff into running water?”

“No.” Arthur shook his head. It takes John a few seconds to catch up.

“Oh!...Oh Arthur you—you ain’t gotta ask me.” John swallowed thickly, hoping he weren’t about to humiliate himself or say something strange. “You can…M’telling you now, for future, you can kiss me anytime you want. I…I want you to.”

John had never been good with words, but he hoped he was getting through to Arthur right now.

The older man was shy in a way John had never experienced being. Too quick to get back into his shell, and retreat into himself and never speak his mind. So John would take the lead then.

“Arthur. I want you, you want me back?” Quick and to the point.

Under the glow of the fire and a spare oil lamp, John watched as the older man began to blush. It was a glorious sight.

Arthur wrapped his arms around him and tugged. They changed positions, John straddled in his lap, Arthur holding his narrow waist, running large warm hands up and down his torso. Just taking his time looking and feeling; John did the same. His own hands traced over Arthur’s big arms, his shoulder, up his neck and to his handsome face. He’s still in disbelief that this is actually happening. How did he get so lucky?

He had an inch over Arthur, held up on his lap like this. John gazed at him; blue eyes clouded over with something fonder. Nearly loving, and all for him. It was his turn to show some love back. He kisses Arthur softly.

One right on his crown and in his hair. One on his scarred nose, his chin. On one cheek, on the other; then John paused. His hands cupped Arthur’s face on either side. Just to be a little shit, John asks again;

“You want me?”

Arthur groaned. His hands ran up John’s arms, one large palm cradled the back of John’s damp hair.

“God yes…” he breathes. A small smile tugs at John’s lips. Arthur’s baby blues are aimed at his mouth, breath shaking as he inches forward. They’re so close they breathe the same air; their lips hovering over each other.

“...Good. I’ve wanted you longer than I can remember.”

“Fuck-Johnny !...” It’s that declaration from John which has Arthur picking him up and laying him flat on top of a bedroll.

Arthur looks at him with something so soft and sweet in his eyes, John’s heart swells. He’s never been happier than he is now, laying flat, trying to keep still while Arthur presses slow, gentle kisses on every part of his body. His arms, his stomach, his chest…The older man is on top of him now, looking down at John with utter adoration. His gaze is so intense it’s near unbearable. For the second time that day, John is wordless.

He’s not cold anymore, not in the slightest. Nothing could ruin this moment for him. For them.

A loud rumbling catches them both off guard. The sound fills the cabin, but they both know where it came from. They look each other straight in the eyes before they burst out laughing. Arthur falls on the ground beside him, shaking in a fit of giggles.

“Jesus Marston! You act like I’m starvin’ you!”

“You did! I ain’t eaten today!” John’s only half embarrassed that his stomach ruined the moment. “Wait, where you goin’?”

Arthur shakes his head and chuckles a few more times. He grabs a bag and rummages through it, pulling out one soft looking apple.

“You want this?” When John scoffs Arthur smirks. “If not, I got some rabbit meat.”

“Oh fuck off.”

They eat a less than delectable meal of rabbit, cold canned corn and the last of their bread. The wind still enters the cabin from the bare windows, but the two of them manage to stay warm all the same. Their bedrolls are pushed together close to the fire, and they share the large blanket still warm with their body heat alone.

When both men doze off, they’re wrapped in each other's arms, both holding the other tight as they can in their sleep.

This trip wasn’t what it was supposed to be, but they're both grateful as shit it went the way it had. Though it went unvoiced and unacknowledged, the last of any hard feelings had long fizzled out; in its place was something funny, or rather, strangely good.

Something soft and fond, and oh so very warm.

#rdrsecretwinterexchange #RDRSWE2022 #fanfiction #arthur morgan #john marston #morston #john marston x arthur morgan #my writing

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okilokiwithpurpose · 4 months

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9 books

Thank you @cha-melodius for tagging me 💗

Here come 9 books (among so many) I really like. I now realise I probably wrote too long comments about them. Sorry for that!

The Farseer trilogy by Robin Hobb (as well as the following series, including the Liveship Traders and the Realm of the Elderlings) It took my sister months to convince me to start reading this series (not that I wasn't interested, but it represents a big chunk of reading and therefore a big commitment) but, well, it was definitely worth it! Love the worldbuilding, the different sorts of magic, the different cultures... And yes, even if he sometimes makes the dumbest decisions, I do like Fitz a lot too!

Five Little Pigs by Agatha Christie I love whodunit mysteries! I could basically have chosen any other of Hercule Poirot's many investigations. In this one, he reinvestigates a murder that was supposedly solved 16 years ago. All he has to work with are the accounts of the five main witnesses... who of course each tell him their personal version of the story!

The Seven Deaths of Evelyn Hardcastle by Stuart Turton A whodunit mystery in an old English manor with a side dish of time loop... I was expecting to like this book but I ended up loving it (and kind of made all of my family read it).

Piranesi by Susanna Clarke I'm not sure how to describe this book. It is fantasy, yes but there's something strangely eatheral, atmospheric about it. The poetry of Piranesi's house itself, with its endless corridors, it's statues and the tides... and the mystery surrounding the "other"... Loved it a lot!

The Time Patrol Series by Poul Anderson Yay for a bit of sci fi! Time patrollers are appointed to protect the course of history (and thus preserving a future in which men's far fetched descendants can create the Time Patrol!). It may remember something to my fellow Loki fans (watching Loki s1 sure made my mind race back to the Time Patrol). Though here, there are no time branches, and most missions consist in stopping other time travellers from making a mess. The first novels date back to the 60s and, though it aged a bit, the worldbuilding is nice, the stories play nicely with the possibilities of time travel and you can feel the author made research about the (past) periods we visit.

Brutus: The Noble Conspirator by Kathryn Tempest This one is a biography (well, as much of a biography it is possible to make using the scarce and often biased ancient sources available, as the author explains very well). I have a thing for history and the end of the Roman Republic is such an interesting period to read about - such his the figure of Brutus (yes, that Brutus) who doesn't always get a lot of attention! (also, I happen to have bought that book in the Coliseum's bookshop during that trip to Rome I had wanted to do for almost 15 years!!)

L'Eau des collines [The Water of the Hills] by Marcel Pagnol I had to read the first novel ("Jean de Florette") for school as a teenager and, well, I used to dislike compulsory readings out of principle and was not sure the story would passionate me anyway (it is about Jean, a clerk who inherits a farm and decides to start a new life there, while the locals keep seeing him as "a stranger from the city"). And yet, once I finished it, I had to go on and read the second novel ("Manon des Sources", about Jean's daughter).

The Secret Lives of Country Gentlemen by K.J. Charles First, I loved the cover (the one with lovely plant and animal illustrations), then I loved the book! What's not to love about a stiff barronet and a chief smuggler falling in love (after having been sex buddies) in the early 1800s? Somehow, it gave me some warm and cosy feelings - and I learned a few things about gold trafficking during the Napoleonic wars too...

The Scholomance Series by Naomi Novik Ok, I only recently finished the first book in this series ("A Deadly Education") but...I am in love?! The Scholomance is a magical school build to protect young wizards from all the lovely creatures who want to devour them. There are no teachers, no holidays, barley any contacts with the outside world - which doesn't prevent a few hungry creatures from getting in, and every students know better than to let their guard down... ok, my summary is not doing it justice (and doesn't convey how fun it can be thanks to El, the narrator) but, well, this is good and I can't wait to read the rest of the series! I also learned that the author is one of the founders of AO3 so thank you queen!!!

No pressure tag: @bebx @dewdropreader @faylights @im-not-corrupted @loki-is-my-kink-awakening @magiclovingdragon @mirilyawrites@samsalami66 @wolfpup026

#thank you for tagging me 😊#(I almost mentioned Circe actually but since a lot of people seem to have done so I though I would 'promote' another book ;)#cha-melodius #@cha-melodius #tag game #books #other

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incorrectskyrimquotes · 1 year

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Since it's getting late, Eryn decides to talk to Ulfric Stormcloak the next day. She heads into Candlehearth Hall for the night, mostly looking for a decent bed and meal.

Rolff approaches her, but one look from her and he thinks better of it. She grabs a couple drinks. She gets to talking with Captain Lonely-Gale at least, who seems friendly enough. Eryn also SERIOUSLY blushes when Susanna says "my beauty."

It's truly not often she's hit on in any respectful way, but Susanna seems genuine. They talk quite a while too, and Susanna mentions the recent string of murders.

The next morning, Eryn heads to the Palace of Kings. She doesn't really think about what she's going to say. She mostly doesn't think she has to, can't she just sign up?

Well, turns out Ulfric Stormcloak is used to people being intimidated by him, and is more than surprised when Eryn mostly isn't. When Ulfric asks if he knows her, she mentions that she bled on him. She takes her hood off, showing her face. Ulfric remembers then that she was the woman at Helgen.

"So, what are you doing here?"

"I'm here to become a Stormcloak." Eryn says it like she thinks it's obvious. Because, to her, it is. Why else would she be here? "Ralof said he'd put in a good word for me if he got here ahead of me-"

"Ralof's alive?" Ulfric sounds both genuinely surprised and genuinely relieved. "That's good to hear. He is a damn good man."

"...who didn't get here before me." Eryn concludes.

Galmar says he still wants to test Eryn, to which she takes some offense. He was about to send her to some remote island, but Ulfric steps in.

"Why haven't you answered the Greybeards' summons, dragonborn?"

Eryn is, of course, genuinely surprised both that word got out that fast that she's the dragonborn and that the Greybeards summoned for her. Trying to think fast, she says she thought the war was more important.

Well, Ulfric says her test can be going and taking to the Greybeards at High Hrothgar. They've called her to her destiny, and after she learns what they have to say, then she can come down and fight in the war. Ulfric's tone makes it clear this is his only and final condition for her to become a Stormcloak.

Eryn says fine, she'll do it. But she's not thrilled about having to climb a huge mountain to talk to a secluded group of old men she's never met. This makes both Galmar and Ulfric laugh. Ulfric explains the Greybeards a little more, and while yes they are old and secluded men, Eryn has no reason to fear them.

"How do you know?"

Ulfric says he still misses High Hrothgar every now and again, it's very peaceful up there. But Eryn needs to go there before she does anything else, including fighting to free Skyrim. If she truly is the Dragonborn, she needs to learn to master her thu'um, and the Greybeards will help with that.

Eryn draws out a route on her map, and gets going as soon as she can. She's still not happy about it, but maybe she can at least learn what any of this Dragonborn stuff is supposed to mean.

And if she's somehow doing it wrong.

#eryn #okay so yes ingame i do still have to go fight a wraith but listen thats so dumv #we're doing this instead #and bc in the order of events of eryns life she wins the war AND THEN goes to ustengrav #so she does have to talk to the greybeards before she signs on for the war

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marypsue · 1 year

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While I am parcelling out recommendations: if you got Susanna Clarke to write a Stranger Things and X-Men mashup AU set in a Victorian version of Garth Nix’s Old Kingdom series, and then got Ray Bradbury in to do the circus bits, you might end up with something like J.M. Miro’s Ordinary Monsters. I am enjoying it immensely so far (and I’m a little more than 3/4 of the way through it).

#on a note completely unrelated to ghost hunters #and i PROMISE i am not just throwing ST into this mix because I have it on the brain right now #if you read it and don't agree that j.m. miro was picturing matthew modine every single time they wrote about [redacted]#then apply within for a full refund

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roman-catholic-mass-readings · 2 months

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18th March >> Mass Readings (USA)

Monday, Fifth Week of Lent

(optional commemoration of Saint Cyril of Jerusalem, Bishop, Doctor)

(Liturgical Colour: Violet: B (2))

Either:

First Reading Daniel 13:1-9, 15-17, 19-30, 33-62 Here I am about to die, though I have done none of the things charged against me.

In Babylon there lived a man named Joakim, who married a very beautiful and God-fearing woman, Susanna, the daughter of Hilkiah; her pious parents had trained their daughter according to the law of Moses. Joakim was very rich; he had a garden near his house, and the Jews had recourse to him often because he was the most respected of them all.

That year, two elders of the people were appointed judges, of whom the Lord said, “Wickedness has come out of Babylon: from the elders who were to govern the people as judges.” These men, to whom all brought their cases, frequented the house of Joakim. When the people left at noon, Susanna used to enter her husband’s garden for a walk. When the old men saw her enter every day for her walk, they began to lust for her. They suppressed their consciences; they would not allow their eyes to look to heaven, and did not keep in mind just judgments.

One day, while they were waiting for the right moment, she entered the garden as usual, with two maids only. She decided to bathe, for the weather was warm. Nobody else was there except the two elders, who had hidden themselves and were watching her. “Bring me oil and soap,” she said to the maids, “and shut the garden doors while I bathe.”

As soon as the maids had left, the two old men got up and hurried to her. “Look,” they said, “the garden doors are shut, and no one can see us; give in to our desire, and lie with us. If you refuse, we will testify against you that you dismissed your maids because a young man was here with you.”

“I am completely trapped,” Susanna groaned. “If I yield, it will be my death; if I refuse, I cannot escape your power. Yet it is better for me to fall into your power without guilt than to sin before the Lord.” Then Susanna shrieked, and the old men also shouted at her, as one of them ran to open the garden doors. When the people in the house heard the cries from the garden, they rushed in by the side gate to see what had happened to her. At the accusations by the old men, the servants felt very much ashamed, for never had any such thing been said about Susanna.

When the people came to her husband Joakim the next day, the two wicked elders also came, fully determined to put Susanna to death. Before all the people they ordered: “Send for Susanna, the daughter of Hilkiah, the wife of Joakim.” When she was sent for, she came with her parents, children and all her relatives. All her relatives and the onlookers were weeping.

In the midst of the people the two elders rose up and laid their hands on her head. Through tears she looked up to heaven, for she trusted in the Lord wholeheartedly. The elders made this accusation: “As we were walking in the garden alone, this woman entered with two girls and shut the doors of the garden, dismissing the girls. A young man, who was hidden there, came and lay with her. When we, in a corner of the garden, saw this crime, we ran toward them. We saw them lying together, but the man we could not hold, because he was stronger than we; he opened the doors and ran off. Then we seized her and asked who the young man was, but she refused to tell us. We testify to this.” The assembly believed them, since they were elders and judges of the people, and they condemned her to death.

But Susanna cried aloud: “O eternal God, you know what is hidden and are aware of all things before they come to be: you know that they have testified falsely against me. Here I am about to die, though I have done none of the things with which these wicked men have charged me.”

The Lord heard her prayer. As she was being led to execution, God stirred up the holy spirit of a young boy named Daniel, and he cried aloud: “I will have no part in the death of this woman.” All the people turned and asked him, “What is this you are saying?” He stood in their midst and continued, “Are you such fools, O children of Israel! To condemn a woman of Israel without examination and without clear evidence? Return to court, for they have testified falsely against her.”

Then all the people returned in haste. To Daniel the elders said, “Come, sit with us and inform us, since God has given you the prestige of old age.” But he replied, “Separate these two far from each other that I may examine them.”

After they were separated one from the other, he called one of them and said: “How you have grown evil with age! Now have your past sins come to term: passing unjust sentences, condemning the innocent, and freeing the guilty, although the Lord says, ‘The innocent and the just you shall not put to death.’ Now, then, if you were a witness, tell me under what tree you saw them together.” “Under a mastic tree,” he answered. Daniel replied, “Your fine lie has cost you your head, for the angel of God shall receive the sentence from him and split you in two.” Putting him to one side, he ordered the other one to be brought. Daniel said to him, “Offspring of Canaan, not of Judah, beauty has seduced you, lust has subverted your conscience. This is how you acted with the daughters of Israel, and in their fear they yielded to you; but a daughter of Judah did not tolerate your wickedness. Now, then, tell me under what tree you surprised them together.” “Under an oak,” he said. Daniel replied, “Your fine lie has cost you also your head, for the angel of God waits with a sword to cut you in two so as to make an end of you both.” The whole assembly cried aloud, blessing God who saves those who hope in him. They rose up against the two elders, for by their own words Daniel had convicted them of perjury. According to the law of Moses, they inflicted on them the penalty they had plotted to impose on their neighbor: they put them to death. Thus was innocent blood spared that day.

The Word of the Lord

R/ Thanks be to God.

Or:

First Reading Daniel 13:41c-62 Here I am about to die, though I have done none of the things charged against me.

The assembly condemned Susanna to death. But Susanna cried aloud: “O eternal God, you know what is hidden and are aware of all things before they come to be: you know that they have testified falsely against me. Here I am about to die, though I have done none of the things with which these wicked men have charged me.”

After they were separated one from the other, he called one of them and said: “How you have grown evil with age! Now have your past sins come to term: passing unjust sentences, condemning the innocent, and freeing the guilty, although the Lord says, ‘The innocent and the just you shall not put to death.’ Now, then, if you were a witness, tell me under what tree you saw them together.” “Under a mastic tree,” he answered. Daniel replied, “Your fine lie has cost you your head, for the angel of God shall receive the sentence from him and split you in two.” Putting him to one side, he ordered the other one to be brought. Daniel said to him, “Offspring of Canaan, not of Judah, beauty has seduced you, lust has subverted your conscience. This is how you acted with the daughters of Israel, and in their fear they yielded to you; but a daughter of Judah did not tolerate your wickedness. Now, then, tell me under what tree you surprised them together.” “Under an oak,” he said. Daniel replied, “Your fine lie has cost you also your head,” for the angel of God waits with a sword to cut you in two so as to make an end of you both.” The whole assembly cried aloud, blessing God who saves those who hope in him. They rose up against the two elders, for by their own words Daniel had convicted them of perjury. According to the law of Moses, they inflicted on them the penalty they had plotted to impose on their neighbor: they put them to death. Thus was innocent blood spared that day.

The Word of the Lord

R/ Thanks be to God.

Responsorial Psalm Psalm 23:1-3a, 3b-4, 5, 6