#over Susy clemens

[sassmill]

I asked “are you okay with me introducing your queerness into the museum’s official narrative? Is that term alright with you? Does it resonate with your experience when you lived?” And these cards all came flying out of the deck. Lizzo’s “about damn time” came into my head right when the three of wands came out, too. I feel like I’m going to start crying.

#I am holding this young woman’s legacy so tenderly and so close to my heart #and the impact that I as another queer woman can have by bringing this part of her into the broader discussion #by talking about it in our tours and programming #the weight and the gift of that is not lost on me #I can’t believe that this is my job #I can’t believe that so many people spend so much of their lives trying to find some sort of calling #find something that gives their life meaning gives their life purpose #and I stumbled into her house one day and suddenly found an entire career #I could talk about fate seven ways to Sunday but I’ll let this speak for itself #ugh #i’m emotional #over Susy clemens #AGAIN #i’m clemensposting #tarot #psychic stuff #museum musings

[sinceileftyoublog]

Robert Finley Interview: Something to Laugh About

BY JORDAN MAINZER

The most stunning and heartbreaking song on blues singer Robert Finley's latest album Black Bayou (Easy Eye Sound), is made up. On album closer "Alligator Bait", the narrator--at first talking rather than singing--describes trudging through the swamp, his grandfather having just purchased for him a pair of hip boots. Backed by Kenny Brown's spindly guitars, Eric Deaton's slinky bass, and Jeffrey Clemens' slow-burning, stomping drums, Finley's gruff voice tells the story of this character wading around, waiting for something to happen. He accidentally steps on an alligator's back, thinking it's a log; his grandfather shoots the gator after it reacts. Matter-of-fact, Finley states, darkly humorous, "A lotta kids got ate like that." But on the second half of the song, he sings, wailing like a bluesman who had his heart broken. Only this time, he's taken aback by familial betrayal, realizing his grandfather had only bought him the hip boots and told him to enter the swamp in order to use him as alligator bait. When the narrator goes home to tell his father, his father laughs and brushes him aside, confessing that the same thing happened to him when he was a kid. Most of us face a mini existential crisis when we learn our parents aren't perfect. The narrator of "Alligator Bait", on the other hand, has just learned of his own dispensability.

When I spoke to Finley over the phone a few days before Black Bayou was released in late October, he confessed, "'Alligator Bait' was supposed to be cheerful. I didn't want to make him look like a mean old grandpa. It's just something to laugh about," before pausing and adding, "Maybe it'll make some kids stay away from the creek." Indeed, seven years into his improbable comeback, Finley views his role as a singer and entertainer as twofold: meeting the audience at the heart while simultaneously giving them advice, telling them the barebones truth when other authority figures won't. On Black Bayou, he reckons with ideas of homesickness and loneliness, lust and love, selflessness and salvation. Buoyed by longtime collaborator Dan Auerbach of The Black Keys, Finley wrote all of the songs in the studio, and his familiarity with his supporting cast of musicians resulted in songs that were both efficiently recorded and emotionally acute. Brown's guitar winces with longing on "Livin' Out A Suitcase" as Finley's tired of traveling. On "Waste Of Time", a song that sees Finley taking pride in rural living even if it means missing out on opportunities provided by cities, the buzz-saw guitars and Clemens' clattering percussion yield a perfect maximalism to go along with Finley's claims that, yes, there's still a lot to digest right outside your doorstep. "There are so many guys down here with super talent," Finely said. "They haven't been exposed to the right places."

In fact, Finley's daughter and grandaughter, Christy Johnson and LaQuindrelyn McMahon, offer a prototype. Like many musicians and singers in rural Louisiana, Johnson had long been singing at church, specifically in the youth choir before she started traveling with her father, joining him on his 2019 America's Got Talent stint and eventually recording background vocals on 2021's autobiographical Sharecropper's Son. And Finley insisted to Auerbach on McMahon singing backup on Black Bayou, though she's also in her own band, according to Finley. After all, there's not much of a difference between blues and gospel music. As Finley puts it, it's just "Oh, baby!" versus "Oh, lord!"

Really, Finley feels his songs could essentially soundtrack various milestones or important events in life. He made sweet doo wop outlier "Lucky Day" for others. "It's a wedding song. It's for people celebrating their 50th anniversary," he said. "It's one of those songs you can use in different situations." In contrast, he describes "Susie Q"-esque lurker "What Goes Around Comes Around" as "basically scripture," even as he sings lines like, "I got my whiskey and my woman / I ain't worried about a thing." Living the way you want and keeping to yourself can be a holy exercise, too. "They're the true facts. No sugarcoating," Finley said, adding, "Something the preacher ain't gonna say. They'd kick him out the church!"

The line between Finley's performance as authentic versus an act is not one he's really ultimately concerned with, as the very fact that he's gotten here is surreal. "I'm living my childhood dream at my age," he said. "I get a chance to express myself. To be able to go back and look at myself on film to see how I've made a fool of myself." Multiple times throughout our conversation, he referred to himself as in total service of the audience, wanting to make them laugh, wanting to make their lives easier, even if he needs to paint himself as a sinner or dunce in order to do so. Still, he has his head on his shoulders. "There's a difference between acting a fool and being a fool," Finley said. "One means you're a really good actor because you can act crazy, and the other says, 'You're fucking crazy for real.'" Find me a preacher who'd admit that!

#interviews #robert finley #black bayou #easy eye sound #kenny brown #eric deaton #jeffrey clemens #dan auerbach #the black keys #christy johnson #laquindrelyn mcmahon #america's got talent #sharecropper's son

[write-havoc]

Of Sons and Daughters Ch. 8

Summary: Arthur is tasked by Dutch to watch over a young woman who had just lost the last member of her family she had left. That young woman just so happens to be the daughter that Dutch told no one else about.

This is a non canon AU with no major spoilers

Fandom: Red Dead Redemption 2

Pairing: Arthur Morgan/Original Female Character

Status: Ongoing

Contains: swearing, PG 13 smut

Intended for readers 18+ of age only

Masterlist in my bio

Having heard nothing back from Arthur after sending off a letter with Charles to give to him, Emmeline concludes that he wants nothing to do with her. It hurts. A lot, actually. She sheds many tears when the realization hits her that he’s not going to contact her. Her only friend, the only person she felt any connection to in the world would never talk to her again.

She pushes on, despite her sadness. Traveling into Valentine every few days, she sells her fish to the butcher on the corner for the money she needs to buy her supplies. She’s very nervous at first to walk around by herself, but after a while, she realizes that people mostly just pass her by, not paying her much mind.

Once she gets home from her trips into town, she always lets out a sigh as she opens her door. Her small cabin seems so large and empty when she crosses the threshold. To keep her mind off of the deafening silence, she buries herself in books, rereading ones she’s read a million times before in addition to new ones she saves up her money to buy.

She also practices her drawing skills. Drawing Arthur is too painful for her, so she focuses on illustrating Miss Susie just right. Her chickens, who all have their own names, are also frequent models for her. With all the time she spends putting pencil to paper, her pictures become more refined and detailed. She even tacks the best ones up on her walls as decorations.

During the same several weeks, Arthur is restless. He spends much of his time away from camp, whether he’s hunting, fishing, or just exploring the land around him. Pearson’s wagon never runs low with all the animals Arthur is bringing back. Plus, he’s given Pearson enough supplies to make him some satchels and spruce up the camp a little to boot. Even though Arthur is choosing to spend more time alone, he still gets roped into the odd job at times.

Just a couple days after the situation with Emmeline’s letter, Arthur sits next to the lake, drawing a picture of ducks in flight when Dutch comes up to him.

“Got something for you,” he says in an almost sing song way.

Arthur closes his journal and stashes it away in his satchel before turning back to the older man. “What’s that?”

Dutch pulls his hand out from around his back to show Arthur a shiny silver badge. “You and me are officially deputies of this fine city of Rhodes!” he calls out jovially.

Arthur just stares at the object for a moment. “What in the hell do you mean we’re deputies?” He gets up and takes the badge from Dutch.

“I got the good sheriff drunk and convinced him to let me and you help him with his little Braithwaite problem.”

“Braithwaite problem?”

“You haven’t noticed that the two most prominent families here seem to have a decades long blood feud going on?”

Arthur fiddles with the little bit of metal in his hand, tracing his thumb over the recessed letters of the word “deputy”. “Yeah, I noticed. I just didn’t think it would be our problem.”

“It’s not going to be our problem , my boy. It’ll be our gain .”

“How do ya figure that?”

“Seems there’s rumors about town that the Grays and the Braithwaites are sitting on a pile of Confederate gold. I think if we get them distracted enough, we can swoop right in and take it.”

“Confederate gold?” Arthur can’t help but laugh. “There’s rumors of Confederate gold bein’ buried all over the south! They ain’t nothin’ but rumors , though, Dutch.”

Dutch’s face falls into an unimpressed expression. “I’m inclined to believe them in this case, Arthur.”

“Why?”

“Because why else would these families be fighting each other so hard if not for money?”

Arthur shrugs as he scratches at his beard. “I don’t know. People fight for all sorts ‘a reasons.”

“Well, that gold’s out there. I can feel it.”

“I ain’t sure ‘bout that, Dutch. If one of them families was sitting on a cache of gold, they’d ‘a spent it by now. Even if they ain’t exactly hurting for money. You know rich people always find something to spend it on.”

Dutch lets out a little huff. “I also know that rich people are good at squirreling away money they don’t want the government to find out about,” he replies.

Arthur nods once in agreement. “I guess.” Though Dutch’s statement is true, Arthur still isn’t completely convinced. “Ain’t they into liquor and tobacco?” he changes the subject, not wanting to really start an argument.

“Yeah. The Braithwaites are, indeed, in the moonshine business, now that you mention it. And as Sheriff Gray’s new deputies, we’ve been tasked with destroying one of their stills.”

“Really?”

“Yes, really,” Dutch repeats, a little annoyed. “You know, I was pretty excited to get the chance to work with you since we haven’t done so in a while, but if you’re gonna be like this-“

“I’ll do it,” Arthur finds himself saying. He doesn’t really want to, but Dutch’s guilt trip was successful in making Arthur feel bad about being away from him so much.

After that mission, though, Arthur’s already low enthusiasm in getting in the middle of the blood feud between the families drops even more. That’s when he makes himself scarce. To save himself from another guilt trip from Dutch, though, he makes sure to keep providing for the camp. If he keeps everyone fed and the money box full, Dutch won’t really be able to complain. At least too much.

After turning in some pelts to the trapper in Saint Denis, Arthur finds himself riding north on the easternmost shore on the outskirts of the city. For some unknown reason, he starts to wander around the little islands out there, avoiding alligators and getting stuck in the mud. Out of the corner of his eye, he happens to catch the sight of a lock box, half dug out of the mud underneath a tree. Once he opens it, he’s disappointed to find that instead of money, it’s filed with nothing but old letters dated to the early 1800s. He’s about to straighten back up to leave when the name “Lucille Braithwaite” catches his eye.

Upon reading the letters, Arthur pieces together that many years ago, Lucille Braithwaite and Douglas Gray, of the infamous Rhodes families, were in love with each other. As interesting as that historical tidbit is, it’s the letter in which Lucille instructs Douglas to steal gold from her family and as well as his own in order to help fund the abolition of slavery.

Arthur lets out a shocked chuckle at this development. After shoving all the letters in his satchel, he makes a bee line for the camp back at Clemens Point. Once he gets there, he immediately hands Dutch the letters as the man stands by his own tent.

“What’s this?” Dutch asks as he sifts through the papers.

“There ain’t no gold,” Arthur comments simply.

From close by, Hosea hears this exchange and walks over. “No gold where?”

“Those families are fightin’ over nothin’,” Arthur starts to explain as Dutch reads over the letters. “Two members of their own families worked together to take all that gold. Those families didn’t steal from each other; they stole from themselves.”

Hosea seems confused at first. “So where’s the gold?”

Dutch lets out a huff as he shoves the letters toward Hosea. “It’s gone. Given away almost a hundred years ago.”

Hosea takes the papers and starts to read them himself.

“Damnit!” Dutch calls out. “That gold could’ve gotten us where we needed to be.”

“Seems there were a couple of good-hearted people in those inbred families at one time,” Hosea comments. “Gave all that money to try and stop the slave trade. It’s noble.”

Dutch scoffs. “Puts us out.”

“We should back off from them,” Hosea says, but is met with a glare from Dutch.

“Just because two people acted nobly a hundred years ago doesn’t mean the people here now are innocent.”

“I didn’t mean it like that,” Hosea corrects. “I meant that they’re starting to get suspicious. And our profit margin just went way down. We need to cut our losses before we get run out of this town and attract more attention than we already have. Pinkertons are on our trail already. Remember, they found our first camp.”

Arthur agrees, but he waits to see what Dutch will say before he voices his opinion.

Dutch finally speaks up after casting his gaze down. “Yeah. I suppose we should stop playing those families.”

From out of nowhere, Micah comes stomping towards them. He had been eavesdropping on the conversation, apparently, and is none too happy with what he heard.

“What?!” the blond man calls out. “So while Arthur has been sulking around pining for that girl and letting us all pick up the slack around here, he just happens across a bunch ‘a letters that just so happen to confirm just why he hasn’t been helping out with everything. Seems awfully convenient to me.”

Before Arthur can bite anything back, Hosea cuts in. “You really think that Arthur went out, found old paper with the Braithwaite’s letterhead,” he holds the letters up harshly to show Micah, “used a fountain pen to write in a script he’s never used before, and concocted all this back story just to get us to back off?” He gives Micah a stern look.

Micah, knowing that he has been successfully told off, but not wanting to admit that, just shrugs. “Maybe.”

Hosea rolls his eyes. “Have you always been dumber ‘n a box of rocks?” he asks Micah.

In response, Micah throws Dutch a look before stomping off.

“Why do we keep him around?” Arthur comments.

“Arthur,” Dutch chides. “He’s still rough, but I see something in him.”

“Don’t know what,” Arthur mutters under his breath.

Dutch hears him just fine, though. “Follow me, Arthur. We need to talk about something.”

The two men walk out to the lake shore, far enough away that no one can listen in.

“I ain’t never gonna like Micah,” Arthur starts to defend himself, assuming this little talk will be about their ongoing feud.

“I know. I don’t wanna talk about that.” Dutch takes out a cigar and lights it. “I saw Emmeline in Valentine a couple weeks ago.”

Arthur looks over to him with wide eyes. He doesn’t say anything, though, waiting for Dutch to finish.

“She was selling off some fish to the butcher. She looked like she was doing good for herself.”

Arthur nods. “That’s good.”

“The butcher told me he sees her a few times a week. I gave him some extra money to give her when he sees her.”

“He actually gonna do that instead of pocket it?” Arthur responds skeptically.

“If he knows what’s best for him, he will.” He takes a puff on his cigar, letting the smoke cloud the air between him and Arthur. “Despite what happened between you two, I need to thank you for teaching her what you did to give her a chance.”

Arthur doesn’t know what to say to that. “She’s smart. She just needed someone to show her. Took to fishing pretty well.”

“Despite the teacher,” Dutch jokes.

“Yeah.” Arthur chuckles.

“She’s a beautiful girl,” Dutch comments. “A good man is going to sweep her up in no time.”

Arthur schools his features despite his chest tightening at the thought of another man making her his wife.

One day, Arthur finds himself around Valentine, so he decides to run into the store to stock up on coffee. After he grabs what he went in there for, he ends up buying a few extras, too. Oat cakes for Sparrow, some apples, too, and chocolate bars. Once he exits with his satchel now completely full, he sees a familiar horse with a small cart hitched behind it and, of course, a familiar woman in the seat.

He thinks for a moment that he should duck back into the store, go out the back to avoid Emmeline all together. He finds that his feet are already taking him closer to her, though.

When she finally notices him walking beside her, she pulls Miss Susie to a stop and stares at him a moment. Before he can say anything to greet her, her expression falls from neutral to something more pained as her eyes well up with tears.

“Shit,” he mutters under his breath. “Don’t cry, Emma. Please.”

She looks away from him quickly and covers her face with her hands. “I’m sorry.”

An voice from behind them suddenly calls out, “You wanna move it, mister. I got places to be.”

Arthur looks back to see an angry man trying to maneuver his own cart around Emmeline’s. He holds back from responding to the guy none too kindly. Instead, he jumps up beside Emmeline and steers her horse off the road and into the alleyway.

“Are you alright, Emma?” he asks softly.

She doesn’t remove her hands from her face, too embarrassed for Arthur to see her so upset.

Arthur lets out a heavy breath. “Please look at me.”

She takes her hands away, wiping at her eyes before looking up at him. “I didn’t expect to see you,” she replies quietly.

He looks away before jumping down off the cart. When he turns back, he holds his arms out to her, prompting her to step down, too. Leading her out of the alley, they move to stand behind one of the buildings for a little more privacy.

“I’m sorry,” she says, her voice still choked with emotion.

“You don’t got nothin’ to be sorry about.”

“Did Charles give you my letter?”

He scratches at his beard. He really has let it get a little unruly. “I read it.”

She nods. There was that little bit of hope in her that he hadn’t read it and that their time apart could be explained by something else. But, no. He knew she wanted to talk with him and chose not to.

“I see,” she replies sadly. “Can you just tell me what I did wrong?”

“You didn’t do nothin’ wrong. It’s just...” he trails off. “You’re better off without me.”

She looks up at him confused. “What do you mean?”

“Find yourself a good man that’ll take care of you.”

“ You’re a good man,” she comments.

“I ain’t, Emmeline. I ain’t a good man at all.”

“How can you say that after everything you’ve done?”

“You don’t know of everything I’ve done.”

“I know what you did for me.”

He shakes his head. “Emma, please understand-“

“Just tell me you don’t want me.”

He looks up to her. “What?”

“I’ll be alright if you say you don’t want me. We can just be friends. And... if you don’t want to see me, we can write letters. Please, Arthur...” She chokes back tears. “You’re my only friend. Don’t just leave me.”

It absolutely breaks his heart to see her pleading like this. But this is all for the best for her. Keeping her away from him is better for her. Right?

“I’m an outlaw,” he blurts out, though he’s not really sure why de does.

“What?”

“I’m an outlaw,” he repeats. “I’ve stolen. Lied. Hurt people. Killed people. Spent more ‘n a few nights in jail.”

“An outlaw?” She blinks hard, trying to make sense of what he’s saying. “I-I thought you worked for for Uncle Tacitus.”

“Ain’t no such man,” he explains. “It’s just an alias we give out so people can write to us. It changes depending on where we’re at. Tacitus Kilgore. Aiden O’Malley. Some others. They’re just names.”

She shakes her head in confusion. “I don’t understand.”

“That’s what I’m trying to tell you, Emma. You’re too good to be in this life. I’m a bad man. I run with bad men. You should just forget all about me. Act like I never existed.”

She stares up at him, trying to process everything. “Did you steal from me?” she finally asks.

“No,” he answers automatically.

“Did you plan to? Did you plan to hurt me?”

“No,” he responds emphatically. “I would never hurt you. Or take from you like that.”

“Then you’re still a good man, Arthur Morgan. With everything you did for me, you’re a good man . You’re not changing my mind in that.”

He lets out a sigh. “You have to understand, Emmeline-“ He pauses when he sees the odd expression on her face. “You alright?”

Emmeline quickly turns away from Arthur, taking a few steps before starting to dry heave into the bushes.

“Shit.” Arthur rushes over to place his hand in her back as she’s bent over. “You sick?”

She stands back up and takes a deep breath once she’s done. “Yes, I think so. I threw up both my breakfast and lunch today. And I did so yesterday, too. The day before that, I was queasy.” She wipes her mouth on her sleeve. “I was on my way to see the doctor when I saw you.”

The thought that Emmeline could possibly be sick has Arthur worried, so he quickly leads her to the nearby doctor’s office. Just as they get to the door, the doctor walks out with his keys in his hand.

“She’s sick,” Arthur calls out.

The doctor doesn’t even turn around, but continues with putting his key in the lock. “Sorry. She’ll have to come back tomorrow. I’m closed.”

Arthur suddenly grabs the man but the collar and pins him to the wall beside the door. “She’s sick,” Arthur growls in the man’s face.

The doctor smartly decides not to make the man before him angry. “Alright, sir. I-I’ll see her.” Once Arthur releases him, the doctor unlocks the door and opens it. “Exam room is in the back.”

As the doctor closes the front door, Arthur leads Emmeline into the back room. She takes her seat in the exam chair as the doctor enters.

“Are you her husband?” he asks Arthur.

“Uh. Yes,” Arthur lies. He’s not going to risk this doctor not seeing Emmeline because he might think it improper to examine a single woman.”

Emmeline isn’t fond of lying, but she follows Arthur’s lead nevertheless. “He’s my husband,” she asserts, though it’s unprompted.

The doctor gives her a look. “So, what seems to be bothering you Mrs...?”

“Callahan,” Arthur provides.

“Mrs. Callahan.” The doctor waits for her to answer his question.

“My stomach,” she answers. “I’ve been queasy for a few days. I threw up earlier today and yesterday, too.”

He places his hand on her head. “Any chills?”

“No.”

“Diarrhea?”

“No.”

“Headaches?”

“No.”

“Eaten anything new recently.”

Emmeline thinks. “No.”

He straightens up and looks over to Arthur. “How long have you been married?”

“Six months,” Arthur pulls out of nowhere.

The doctor turns back to Emmeline. “When was your last monthly?”

“Uh.” Emmeline thinks. “It was... uh.”

“More than a month ago?” the doctor cuts in.

“Maybe two,” Emmeline finally answers.

“Were you having them regularly before this?”

“Yes. I think so.”

Arthur’s eyes go wide once he realizes what the doctor is thinking.

“I assume you have been having marital relations,” the doctor comments.

Both Emmeline and Arthur’s faces go red.

“Well,” the doctor calls out too cheerfully to the room, “I’m inclined to think that Mrs. Callahan is in a family way. Though we wont be sure for another month or so.”

“Are you sure?” Arthur asks in a voice much higher than his usual one.

The doctor thinks a moment. “Have you been fatigued lately?” he asks Emmeline.

“Yes. I’ve found myself taking naps in the afternoon,” she answers.

“Are you able to stand any pressure to your chest?”

“Not really,” she answers, recalling how tender her breasts have been lately. “Is that bad?”

“It’s a fairly common symptom of early pregnancy,” the doctor answers.

“Pregnancy,” Emmeline whispers the word.

“Are you sure ?” Arthur repeats, his brain still trying to come to terms with everything.

The doctor chuckles. “As sure as I can be this early on, Mr. Callahan. But with a young, healthy woman like that, I don’t suspect it could be anything else.”

He goes back out to the main room for a moment, leaving Arthur and Emmeline alone in the room. Both of them are too shocked to even say anything to each other. When he comes back in, he hands a paper off to Emmeline.

“Here are the names of some midwives in the area. It won’t hurt to talk to them. But if your menses return, this episode may be diet related, so you’ll have to watch that. If you still cease to bleed and your abdomen starts to grow, you’ll know you’re with child.”

Both Arthur and Emmeline are in shock at the news. Neither of them say anything as the doctor hurries them out of his office so he can finally lock up for the day. They stand there dumbstruck for a few minutes before Emmeline speaks up.

“Can we talk about this?” she asks, unsure what Arthur will do.

He turns to her and looks right into her eyes. “I’ll drive you home and then we can talk.” After unhitching Sparrow so she can follow them, he helps Emmeline into the cart then sits beside her, taking the reins. They’re both quiet for the short ride, waiting until they’re in the privacy of Emmeline’s cabin to start to talk.

As they start to pull up to the house, Arthur sees two strange horses and two riders to go with them standing near the front door of the house. The men are dressed in nice suits complete with bowler hats and badges that Arthur has never seen before. They’re certainly not with the local law, so these must be the Pinkertons that Hosea mentioned.

“Isn’t this a surprise?” the older man of the two calls out as Arthur pulls up. “Arthur Morgan, I presume.”

Arthur quickly jumps down and rounds the wagon to help Emmeline down. He makes sure to push her behind him as they approach the men.

“Who are you?” Arthur growls out.

“I’m Agent Milton,” the man closest to him says. “And this is Agent Ross.” He gestures back to the man holding the shotgun.

“Leave. Now,” Arthur demands.

“No need to be rude, Mr. Morgan. I’m not here for you. I’m here for Miss Van Der Linde.” He gestures to Emmeline.

Arthur’s eyes go wide. This man should not know anything about Emmeline. Especially that she’s actually Dutch’s daughter.

Thinking that this must be a misunderstanding, Emmeline steps out from behind Arthur to address Milton. “That’s not my name. I’m Emmeline Turner. You’re looking for someone else.”

Arthur steps forward, once again putting himself in front.

Milton snickers at her. “She doesn’t know, does she?”

“Know what?” Emmeline peeks her head out to ask.

Arthur lets out a huff. “She ain’t a part of this, so leave .”

Milton seems amused. “This is quite the situation Dutch orchestrated, isn’t it? The son he raised but didn’t father found in the company of the daughter he fathered but never raised.”

Emmeline steps out again, but Arthur still covers her with his arm. “My father was Joseph Turner,” she insists. “Not that other man you said.”

Milton leans forward smugly. “You’re Dutch Van Der Linde’s bastard, sweetheart,” he insists. “Your mama must’ve been a busy girl.”

“Enough,” Arthur says to shut him up. “What do you want?”

Milton straightens up. “Since you’re here, Mr. Morgan, I’m going to offer you a deal. Get Dutch to meet me so I can bring him in and I won’t harm a hair on anyone else’s head in that gang of yours. Not the women. Not the old man. Not that little family. Not the negro,” he continues to show off just how much he knows the gang. “Not the Mexican or the Indian negro or the Irishman or the O’Driscoll. The old drunk or the angry drunk or the sailor. The magician or the priest or the German. All them safe if you just get Dutch out in the open. Alone.”

Arthur pauses a moment, thinking about all those people and their potential safety. “I don’t know what you’re talking about,” he finally replies.

“Did Dutch tell you what a busy boy he was while you were away? Of did he keep what he did from you?” Milton continues with a smirk on his face. “Did he talk about the girl he murdered in cold blood in Blackwater? Or how about the train he robbed belonging to Leviticus Cornwall, killing all the crew. Did he even mention that he killed half of Strawberry, including lawmen and citizens?”

Arthur listens on. He knows what Milton is trying to do. He’s trying to get Arthur to turn on Dutch. And while all those things that he was talking about are troubling, Arthur isn’t about to betray the man he sees as a father without at least getting his side of things.

“I haven’t seen Dutch in months, so he ain’t told me nothin’,” Arthur continues to lie.

Milton lets out an angry breath through his flared nostrils. “Then I’ll have to go back to my original plan. I’m going to take the girl and see if Dutch comes for her.”

Arthur immediately draws his pistol causing Ross to aim his shotgun in Arthur’s direction.

“That ain’t gonna happen,” Arthur growls.

“Put the gun down,” Ross demands, but Arthur doesn’t take his eyes off Milton.

“If you know so much about me,” Arthur starts in a low tone,” then you know I ain’t exactly a slow draw. You really think your man can get a shot off before I put a bullet in your brain?”

Milton chuckles under his breath, trying to hide his nervousness upon hearing that statement. After making his decision on what to do, he takes a step forward. “Until next time, Mr. Morgan.” He and Ross start to walk over to their horses. “Miss Van Der Linde,” he tips his hat to her before mounting his horse and leaving.

“What was all that?” Emmeline asks once the pair of men are out of sight.

Arthur finally holsters his gun once the threat is gone. “Grab some clothes.” He turns to cut Miss Susie loose from the wagon.

“Who were they?”

“Emma, go pack a bag,” he says more forcefully. “We gotta go. Now.”

“Was that all true?” she chokes out.

Arthur walks over to her, laying his hands on her shoulders so she’ll listen to him. “Please, Emma. I’ll tell you everything once we get safe. I promise. But we gotta leave. They might be back with more men and I ain’t letting them take you.”

She finally nods, realizing that Arthur is deadly serious right now. After running inside to shove some clothes into her saddlebag, she comes back out to Arthur saddling up Miss Susie.

“We’re gonna be riding all day.” He takes the bag from Emmeline and secures it to the saddle. “If ya need to take a rest, we will. But if we can keep riding... I’d just rather make sure those lawmen aren’t on our tail.”

Emmeline doesn’t fight him and allows him to help her up in the saddle.

Arthur looks up at her. “Just keep up with me, okay? I ain’t gonna let nothin’ happen to you.” His eyes fall to her stomach before he turns away to mount Sparrow. Just a few moments later, they ride off, though Emmeline doesn’t know what the destination is.

#writehavoc Of Sons and Daughters #of sons and daughters #arthur morgan #arthur morgan x oc #arthur morgan / oc #arthur morgan x original female character #Arthur Morgan / Original Female Character #rdr2 #rdr #Red Dead Redemption #red dead redemption 2 #writehavoc writes

[profoundfestcollector]

Top 10 Influencers to Follow on Clubhouse (2021)

In this article, we will disclose to you the main 10 Speakers/Influencers to follow on Clubhouse. The clubhouse might be another top pick via online media, however since its dispatch in April 2020, it has been downloaded around 10 million times around the world, which makes life ancient history. Before it's anything but a sound application for visitor programs.

The application is created by a previous Google worker Rohan Seth and a business visionary Paul Davison. Despite the fact that it is still at a beta stage, it's soothed lockdown fatigue, changing Instagram profound jumps with directed discussions and conversations. Audience members can pick all around of rooms made through method of methods for hosts and guest speakers—brief you may find yourself in a solitary with Drake, the other you are likely trying out for a segment inside hit melodic Hamilton (veritable story).

Top 10 Influencers to Follow on Clubhouse

1. Naomi Campbell

During the isolate, this notorious supermodel began a brilliant visit show "No Filter" on her YouTube channel (with 478k endorsers). On February fifteenth, Campbell examined the new show with Natalia Brzezinski, head of monetary innovation application technique at Klarna, in the clubhouse. We trust Campbell will come to us soon and bring a portion of her big name companions.

2. Paloma Elsesser

Paloma Elsesser is one of the Top 10 Influencers to Follow on Clubhouse. The American Vogue cover star joined the club in November. At the hour of composing, she just followed a couple of individuals, as Sharmaine Reed a stunner business visionary, model Chloe Vero, and Karen Civil an online media specialist. Joined the dark business club Black Dollar Ecosystem. which is devoted to dark organizations.

3. Tyler Mitchell

This popular American photographic artist is a progressive in the style business. The most renowned is his Beyoncé cover for American Vogue in September 2018, when he was just 23 years of age, and he as of late shot Loewe's most recent scent commercial. Mitchell said thanks to Jonathan Anderson, the innovative head of the brand, by means of Instagram. "On account of Jonathan for his proceeded and rousing collaboration." Do we set out to pause our breathing in one of the two organized rooms?

4. Ib Kamara

The pioneer beautician followed just 137 individuals on the Clubhouse application, including Virgil Abloh from Off-White, Nigerian picture taker Stephen Tayo, and Pyer Moss originator Kirby Jean-Raymond. Anything identified with diversion, legislative issues, and life subsequent to getting off work. He is additionally an individual from a virtual dark gay club called Black Box where they examined governmental issues, engage, and talk about existence after disconnection

5. Bethann Hardison

Since the 1980s, she has been a functioning dissident and model. She has been battling to be on the runway and discreetly joined the club in October. With such countless models assembled, including Jasmine Sanders and the previously mentioned Campbell among them-we longed for turning into an industry symbol, as a model during the 1970s to manage the conversation space about existence.

6. Susie Lau, otherwise known as Susie Bubble

Susie Lau is one of the Top 10 Social Influencers to Follow on Clubhouse. Columnist Susie Lau is currently an industry veteran, she established her persuasive blog Style Bubble around 15 years prior. She as of late posted a message with some Asian American style accomplices under the hashtag #StopAsianHate, telling his 508,000 Instagram.

Followers that she needs to "loan her help" after savagery against Asians in the United States has expanded. To stop Asian contempt in the clubhouse, the individuals from the club are fashioners Philip Lim and Prabal Gurung.

7. Diet Prada

Since its foundation in 2014, Diet Prada and its two authors, Tony Liu and Lindsay Schuyler have become an essential piece of the business. They have distributed intriguing Instagram posts for style marks (the organization presently has more than 2.5 million Followers). In February, as a feature of the online media crusade #StopAsianHate, the team was seen in a room where well-known Asian design voices shared individual accounts of the segregation they confronted while working in the business.

8. Virgil Abloh

Virgil is one of the Top 10 Fashion Influencers to Follow on Clubhouse. The inventive head of Louis Vuitton menswear (and his own personal mark, Off-White) hasn't been timid roughly plunging a toe into the Clubhouse pool. Abloh joined the application in July and perhaps saw in rooms examining the predetermination of African design. He's also an individual from the Culture Club, a space to discuss craftsmanship and culture. On Feb 10, Elon Musk tweeted that he will have a room alongside Kanye West and we can anticipate that Abloh should get together with them as well.

9. Kerby Jean-Raymond

Reebok's new imaginative chief, Jean-Raymond, has 7,400 supporters and is a design result of Clubhouse. Since joining the group in August 2020, the organizer of Pyer Moss has been following persuasive figures, for example, Oscar-selected chief Ava Duvernay and club fellow benefactor Paul Davison.

10. Telfar Global

Telfar is one of the Top 10 Fashion Influencers to Follow on Clubhouse. Last year, you were unable to look over your Instagram feed without seeing an individual wearing one in everything about Clemens' acclaimed pastel totes, from US representative Alexandria Ocasio-Cortez to Oprah Winfrey. In September 2020, the CFDA granted the American Accessories Designer of the year to the originator. Taking the brand to the Clubhouse is something to be thankful for as it is loved by twenty to thirty-year-olds and gen-z the same.

#clubhouse #clubhouse app #clubhouse influencers #influencer #influencers

[jkottke]

The Purloining of Prince Oleomargarine, a previously unpublished children's book by Mark Twain

To Mark Twain's posthumously published works, add one more: a book for children called The Purloining of Prince Oleomargarine. Twain jotted down notes for the book -- which was discovered a few years ago in the Twain literary archive -- but never finished the story. Doubleday bought the rights and worked with Philip and Erin Stead (an author and illustrator, respectively) to complete the story and turn it into a book.

In a hotel in Paris one evening in 1879, Mark Twain sat with his young daughters, who begged their father for a story. Twain began telling them the tale of Johnny, a poor boy in possession of some magical seeds. Later, Twain would jot down some rough notes about the story, but the tale was left unfinished...until now.

Plucked from the Mark Twain archive at the University of California at Berkeley, Twain's notes now form the foundation of a fairy tale picked up over a century later. With only Twain's fragmentary script and a story that stops partway as his guide, author Philip Stead has written a tale that imagines what might have been if Twain had fully realized this work.

The Steads introduced several changes to the story, including making the book's hero black. This New Yorker piece by Mythili Rao explores how much artistic license should be taken with a story that ultimately has Twain's name on it.

"I was surprised by that," Bird told me, when I asked him about the Steads' interpretation of the character. "I just didn't see the textual evidence for it. If Mark Twain wanted to make somebody black, he would make them black. He was not shy about dealing with matters of race." When Twain told his daughters bedtime stories, he often incorporated household objects or magazine illustrations in the narrative. In his journals, he wrote, "The tough part of it was that every detail of the story had to be brand-new -- invented on the spot -- and it must fit the picture." (Susy, in particular, was an "alert critic.") The journals suggest that Johnny, a recurring character in Twain's bedtime stories, was based on a rather clinical William Page illustration of the male figure that the Clemens daughters spotted in an April, 1879, issue of Scribner's Monthly magazine. It seems likely that neither Twain nor his daughters imagined Johnny as the Steads do.

[edvmanbehe]

Mark Twain Goes Home

Act IV, Scene 39: Mark Twain Goes Home

On screen: November 11, 1902 Union Club NYC

It is twilight.  Mark Twain and Kate Carew are coming out of the Union Club’s main entrance with Kate holding Twain’s arm.  They are met by the club’s valet chief.

Valet- Mr. Clemens, can I get you a cab?

Twain- No thank you, good-sir, the lady and I are going for a walk in the park.

The valet tips his hat as they pass him.  Their conversation is during their walk to The Pond’s bridge.

Kate- You have a story for me?

Twain- I am old enough, and wise enough, my dear Mary, to know that anything I say to you could be on my breakfast table by morning, buried somewhere inside your newspaper.

Kate- Buried?!  Oh, heavens no.  Anything “you” tell me would be on the front page, of course.

Twain- Excellent, you can be the one to tell the World I quit.

Kate- Quit? Quit what?  Quit writing?!

Twain- (Imitating Kate) Oh, heavens no.  In fact, I should be able to write more since I am going home…

Kate- (Interrupting) What are you saying?  You “are” home.  You’re a New Yorker.

Twain- (A little irritated) I am going home…tonight, and I’m going to stay there.  I’m not leaving New York; I’m cancelling my projected lecture tour which is scheduled to start in Hartford.  I’m canceling “all” my engagements. You, my dearest, get the scoop.

Kate- Well, I now have the who and the what for my lead; please, tell me the why.

Twain- Livy is ill…very ill.  

Kate- Oh, I’m so sorry for you.  Is it her heart?

Twain- (Pausing) Yes. The outcome of her illness is…“greatly feared.”  The doctors are attending her right now.

Kate- Oh dear, this is terrible news.

Twain- Mary, you and I have been friends for some time now.  Even though you tricked me into that interview years ago, I trust that what I tell you now will be off the record.

Kate- (Crossing her heart) Off the record.

Twain- The doctors have asked me to stay out of her room.

Kate- What?

Twain- They say that her sixty-year-old heart can’t handle any undue stress right now.

Kate- Stress?

Twain- Let me tell you a little story that you have my permission to print; but, you have to promise me not to put my name to it.

Kate- (Right hand up) I promise.

Twain- When I was a news editor in Buffalo, I had the dubious pleasure of asking Livy’s father for her hand in marriage.  Wisely, he asked me for letters of reference.  I gave him the names of several men I had worked with in California. After a few weeks, I was invited to call again by Mr. Langdon so I could hear the replies he had received.  But with one exception, everyone had denounced me.  It was only Livy who thought better of me than my Western friends.  It was her influence with her father that won the day for me; and, won me a devoted wife.   I understand and will honor her doctor’s request.  I deserve to be punished.  

Kate- You don’t mean that.

Twain- Oh, I do.  Livy has the right to be upset with me.  I should have been here when Susie died.

Kate- No, you can’t blame yourself.  You were lecturing in Europe because you had to.

Twain- It was my reckless investments that made that trip a necessity.  But, enough of my troubles, I heard that you attended your first Christian Science service.

Kate- I had to.  I’ve read your book on Christian Science.  I also attended your performance at Carnegie Hall where you expressed your feelings for Mary Baker Eddy.  You said that she is a money-grubbing…

Twain- “A money-grubbing, plageristing, swindler that Mary Baker, Glover, Patterson, Eddy.”

Kate- That’s it!  I understand your use of the adjectives money-grubbing, and swindler, but who exactly is she plagiarizing besides the New Testament?

Twain- Mary, my only son died at the age of nineteen months.  Besides my carelessness, do you remember what disease killed him?

Kate- Diphtheria…Esther Quimby!  You believe Mrs. Eddy plagiarized Esther’s grandfather, John Quimby.

Twain- Mrs. Eddy was Quimby’s assistant.  Mr. Quimby is most likely rolling over in his grave right now.  Little did he know that his assistant would one day be responsible for his granddaughter’s death.  I know exactly how Esther’s parents felt as she died.  The helplessness, the fear, the guilt, and then the abysmal grief.  The difference between the Quimbys and Livy and I was that they could have saved their child.  We didn’t have the vaccine or the antitoxins that we have today.  

Kate- What are you feeling today?

Twain- Anger and a terrible frustration.  How does one convince a woman like Mrs. Eddy that her greed and the scam that she is perpetrating is killing innocent children.

Kate- Sam, you have convinced me and anyone who reads your book that Mary Baker Eddy is a charlatan.  And, if that’s the case, and she knows it, then she is a criminal, isn’t she? 

Twain- From what I read today, there is a good possibility that she has deluded herself into believing the nonsense she has written.

Twain reaches into his jacket and pulls out a newly published copy of the Christian Science Sentinel.  He turns to the article written by Mary Baker Eddy.

Twain- This bit of madness hit the newsstands today.

They continue on the path towards the Pond’s bridge as Kate reads.  Kate and Mark stop at the crest of bridge to discuss the article.

Kate- This is good news.  Mrs. Eddy has now forbidden her healers to handle cases dealing with contagious diseases.  This is great news.

Twain- Did you read her disclaimer?

He points to the end of the article.  Kate reads the small paragraph aloud.

Kate- “Until the public thought becomes better acquainted with Christian Science, the Christian Scientists shall decline to doctor infectious or contagious diseases.”  It seems nothing will shake her faith.

Twain- Faith...faith is believing what you know ain't so.  If Christ were here now there is one thing he would not be – a Christian.  You and Harrie are still living at the Clarence, aren’t you?

Kate- Hooper Young’s father has to return home sometime, and I want to be there when he does.

Twain- When I was out West, a friend gave me the Book of Mormon. To me, this book seems to be merely a prosy detail of imaginary history, with the Old Testament for a model; followed by a tedious plagiarism of the New Testament. Sound familiar?

Kate- The janitor at the Clarence said that the rooms that belong to John Young had doors installed between them.  He said it was done so that his wives, when visiting, would not run into each other.  If he is currently practicing polygamy, I would like to know.

Twain- Ahh, polygamy, slavery’s evil twin.  If he is still practicing Polygamy, I’m afraid you will find it hard to prove.  Young and Utah has too much to lose.  Young knows he could lose his home and all his possessions.  He could end up in jail as well.  Many of his friends are already serving time.  More importantly, Utah is now a state.  They are now subject to federal law.  I applaud your efforts to find out as much as you can; but, I can’t help believing that you two are putting yourselves in grave danger.

Kate- You, better than anyone I know, know that danger comes with the job.

Twain- Is this where the young woman tried to drown herself.

Kate- No. The other side of the bridge.

They move to the north side.

Kate- If the policeman hadn’t been stopped her, do you think she could have done it?

Twain- I know what it’s like to want to kill oneself, and I am more than thankful that my cowardice prevented me.  Could anyone fight off the urges that the body has to stay alive?  I wouldn’t try just to find out.

Harrie comes up to the bridge behind them.

Harrie- Good news, you two.  I’ve found a gentleman that wants to produce one of my plays.

Kate- Oh, Harrie! That’s wonderful!

Twain- Congratulations, young man.  Who is the lucky gentleman?

Harrie- Mr. Francis E. Willard.  Do you know him, Mr.Twain?

Twain- Can’t say I do.

Kate- Funny, Willard is John Young’s middle name.

[sassmill]

Extremely unnerving when you’re suddenly aware of a spirit when you thought you were alone. Not in an ominous way more like uh. Oh, sorry, didn’t see you there. Um.

#like maybe I’m just actually psychotic but my therapist believes me when I talk about the ghost experiences I’ve had #and she loves to talk about my admittedly limited psychic abilities #like I repeat so frequently that I’m worried I’m actually just crazy #and she always reminds me that crazy people don’t consciously think that they’re crazy #so anyway #I’m drilling lines and working on memorizing my Susy script for the mark twain house #and cross my heart #Sam clemens was over by my desk watching and smiling #and I noticed and was like uh I feel incredibly vulnerable and weird right now #and he was like no go on in the most supportive way #so I guess he thinks I’m doing a good job so far #and that was. real weird. #but I guess since I apparently look just like Susy it makes enough sense #and I’m the age he lost her at #when I was at the living history cast party yesterday and got to meet the other cast members for the first time #Tom kept saying how much I looked like her #and kept telling everybody how he said oh shit the first time he saw me without my mask #so idk it all feels kind of serendipitous that I walked into this house one day for a tour #and essentially walked out an hour later with a job #my therapist thinks this is all cool as hell #so #idk #maybe I’m desperate and imagining things or maybe I am a little bit psychic and I also look like mark Twain’s daughter #witchy stuff #psychic stuff #museum musings #papa

[sassmill]

I’m literally sobbing over Susy Clemens welcome to my life now I guess

#time travel #what do you do with a ba in theatre