#robbimyboy

[anoseforrottenapples]

@robbiemyboi

Growing up in Oyster Bay, thirteen-year-old Mary Blake had long grown used to finding balance in order to create a steady life. Oyster Bay itself was a town of balance. Originally a Quaker town, it gradually grew and people outside of the religion had to learn to deal with the Quakers and the varying levels at which they applied themselves to their faith. Mary knew Quakers who adhered to every letter of whatever code they followed (she did not know very much about their religion as her father discouraged her from spending too much time around them) and ones who adhered to only the most basic tenants. It seemed they had much more freedom in how they wanted to interpret their religion then she did. Her father always made it clear that she had to follow her religion closely or there could be terrible consequences in the hereafter. Her mother, however, believed in charity and in helping out their neighbors. While her own family had recently recovered and were now all in good health again, sickness had taken the Townsend house not far down the road from them. While they had not heard of death striking anyone down in the house, her mother felt a helping hand would not go amiss. Mary was inclined to agree with her mother. It did not take long to fill up a hamper with several loaves of fresh bread, the last of the fresh apples, an extra jar of preserves and several vegetable pies all aimed at helping Samuel Townsend feed his rather large family during this trying time. Puffing slightly with the exertion of walking quickly down the road in a chilly drizzle, Mary reached the gate of the Townsend property and paused to catch her breath. As she did, she scanned the yard to see if any of Mr. Townsend’s children were out doing chores. She had a feeling most of them were inside still, hiding from the weather that could only make their condition worse. Re-adjusting her grip on her hamper and making sure her hood fit over her head properly so no cruel breezes could sneak past it, she took a deep breath and started up the path to the main house.

[avictimofthejazz]

@robbiemyboi

Glancing at the newspaper in his hands, Templeton then looked across the street at the Rivington Corner. Eyes narrowing as he watched several British officers go through the door, he tapped the paper against his arm for several minutes as if debating whether he wanted to go into the coffee shop or not. While the café had been the source of useful information in the past, he was not interested in such endeavors right now. He just wanted to run a simple errand before catching the ferry and beginning his trip back to Pennsylvania.  Making his decision, Templeton folded his paper up and slipped it under his arm. Crossing the street quickly, dodging around several wagons and nudging away an overly-inquisitive dog, he made the door. Pushing it open, he spoke with the doorman for a moment and then made his way toward the counter where the proprietor, Mr. Townsend, was working.  “Mr. Townsend,” Templeton politely removed his hat and swapped its place with the paper, “I trust you’ve been doing well since we last spoke?”

Giving Mr. Townsend a moment to reply to the pleasantries, he quickly moved to his purpose for the visit. “Do you have any bottles left of that Raspberry Brandy you’ve been advertising?” He placed the folded paper on the table and tapped his finger against it. He had never heard much good about this brandy…but that made bottles of the alcohol ideal gifts for several people he dealt with in Brumsville. Nothing made a point of disdain more perfectly then gifting someone an expensive but undrinkable bottle of alcohol. It was also very difficult to accuse him of making such a statement when he could merely smile and claim that the brandy was an ‘acquired taste’ and ‘more popular in Europe then in the Colonies because European palettes were more refined’. It was the perfect prank to play on people whom he loathed but needed to stay on good terms with for practical and espionage-related reasons. 

[anoseforrottenapples]

Mary W.//A Late Night Visitor--Robbiemyboi

@robbiemyboi

Continued from HERE Being a few nights after a full moon and coupled with a cloudy sky that threatened snow, the farmyard darker than usual, enough that Mary could only make out a few features of her unexpected visitor—enough to see that he was a man and, under normal circumstances, he should not have any business here at this hour. Of course, since Abe got involved with the Ring, the definition of normal circumstances had grown increasingly muddled. This man was no British officer or, a fact for which she was thankful, a Queen’s Ranger. She also did not think he belonged to the Continental Army, nor did he have the bearing and mannerism of a skinner or a cowboy. An officer for either army would state their business briefly and give her a few minutes to comply willingly before they marched in. A Ranger or a rogue would not wait even that long—they would just shove in and take anything they wanted. This man though….he stayed outside of the door and waited politely for her response. Fully expecting the man to apologize for the intrusion and state he would return in the morning to seek out Abe, she felt a tremor of surprise when, instead, he asked for her assistance. Confused, and now a bit curious, she retreated a step and retrieved the candle she left on the table. Holding the light up to get a better look at her visitor, she felt an instant stab of remorse for leaving the battered man standing out in the cold. Still…Thomas slumbered in the bed behind her and she was here alone until Abe returned. She could not let people into the house on random whims of sympathy. Even if this time the man’s case was genuine, it might be some of Abe’s enemies testing to see how easily they could gain access to the house, how quickly Mary would surrender her own sanctuary out of Christian duty and compassion. Her eyes cast around the yard for a place to put the man besides the shack—somewhere warm and dry but still ensuring that Thomas stayed separate if her worst concerns came to pass. No such place presented itself—several fires had claimed everything except this shack and she had nowhere else to stash injured strangers. Perhaps this man knew Abe…but asking such a question outright just invited him to spin a yarn for her. Still…she could not leave him out here. With the storm blowing in and in his condition, he’d be half-frozen by morning if he made it that long without help. It seemed wise to keep playing the bemused, oblivious wife for the time being… “Until my husband returns, it’s just myself and my baby here.” She put an appropriate tremor into her voice, one that had not been an act only a few short months ago. “Before I let you in, I need your word that you mean no harm to either of us and that you’re not one of those ruffians riding the roads and harassing all the honest people traveling and living along them.”

[anoseforrottenapples]

♡ + Mary x Robert ^u^

@robbiemyboi

Who is the most affectionate? Neither Mary or Townsend are wildly affectionate, at least not in large, public displays. Mary does tend to be a bit more relaxed about her affection though, feeling more casual about showing it off. Townsend is often stiff, and it takes him some time to accept that it is all right to display his emotions more publicly.

Who initiates the handholding? Mary. When Townsend is being a bit too stubborn and stiff upper lip for her tastes, she takes matters into her own hands quite literally. Once Townsend accepts that such displays are appropriate, and even welcome, he begins to relax about it and initiate of his own accord.

Who worries more for the other? They both worry for each other. Neither one is in a particularly secure position and any little thing could compromise them. The thought of accidentally compromising the other one is even more terrifying then compromising themselves so… yeah… it can be a bit stressful across the board.

Who is more likely to ask for help? Mary. Townsend is never sure who he can trust, but Mary would rather ask for help or get someone else to do an unpleasant task for her. Eventually, Mary realizes that most people cannot or will not help her, so she has to do the tasks herself. She still finds herself appealing to Townsend though, when she can, and he eventually slots her into the circle of people whom he can trust closely.

Who is the one always losing the keys? Neither of them. Both Townsend and Mary possess a good presence of mind for the little details so things like keys are rarely overlooked.

Who leaves little love notes for the other? Townsend, actually, and Mary thinks it is adorable. After so many years with Abraham, being treated as a housekeeper more than a wife, little romantic gestures make Mary’s entire day.

Who can’t sleep unless the other is there? Neither of them has this kind of relationship. While they are quite fond of each other, both can function independently as well, and often have too.

Who is more likely to propose to the other? Townsend. Mary is very, very traditional, and even if she really liked the man, she would never dream of proposing first. She might drop hints, but would let him make the first move.

Who introduced the other to their family first? Technically (at least within this context) Mary and Townsend were neighbors while she was growing up in Oyster Bay. They knew each other’s families in the roundabout way that neighbors do so they never really had a proper ‘first introduction’, as much as they had always loosely known each other’s families.

Who is more likely to play with the other’s hair? Mary plays with Townsend’s hair, straightening it out and fussing over his general appearance being tidy. When her hair is down though, he likes to run his fingers through it.

Who makes sure the other has meals/stays hydrated? Mary. Acts of Service (also called Fussing) is one of her love languages, and a huge part of that manifests in her need to make sure the peoples she cares for are properly fed and taken care of. As long as Mary is around, Townsend never has to worry about those details.

Who is more likely to stand up to anyone for the other? It depends on the issue, but Mary is more likely to directly stand up for Townsend. Townsend tends to have more sneaky ways of supporting Mary, working under the proverbial radar and all but Mary will take on a fight publicly if she has too.

Who is the most likely to prepare a surprise for the other? Mary. Perhaps it is his religious upbringing, but Townsend does not always think about doing things like that. Mary enjoys it, however, and is often eager to set up fun or amusing things to surprise Townsend with.

Who makes the other pinky promise not to do certain things? Since pinky promises were not really an active thing in the 1700s, neither of them. However, both of them are prone to extracting promises from the other regarding their health and safety.

Who puts a blanket over the other when they fall asleep on the couch? Mary. Townsend works very hard and sometimes dozes off where he is working, rather than in his room proper, so Mary has no qualms about putting a blanket around his shoulders before finishing up the clean-up work needed for the coffee shop.

[anoseforrottenapples]

Continued from HERE @robbiemyboi​

With Abraham gone again, Mary knew she should not have allowed Robert to stay with Thomas and her at the house. The neighbors would surely start talking about how a handsome, unmarried man had stayed overnight while her own husband was not at home…. Of course, Abraham gave the neighbors enough reason to talk as it was. There was little she could do that would worsen the situation, and she had already survived the whispers about herself and Ensign Baker. After all, the fine young officer had been more attentive to the needs of her family then Abraham had been for a time there. It was only natural that some talk would emerge. Now, if the neighbors found out that Robert was still in the house, it would start all over again. Still, she cannot bring herself to ask him to leave…not when he was so comfortably arranged in the rocking chair and Thomas had fallen asleep too. It was a sweet sight and one she had not intended to disturb. The room was growing chilly though, despite the fire, and her attempts to settle a blanket around the duo stirred Robert from his sleep. He moved his head enough that he could see her, and she smiled in response. "Is it past midnight yet?” 

“Near enough.” She whispered. “But I wasn’t trying to wake you. There seems little point in making a large fuss over the changing of a year anyways. I doubt little else will change with it. You should keep resting—you can start the journey back in the morning once it is light enough to see.”

[avictimofthejazz]

@robbiemyboi

“We weren't born to follow, come on and get up off your knees. When life is a bitter pill to swallow, you’ve got told on to what you believe.” Templeton hissed the words into Townsend’s ear, trying to goad the Quaker into some kind of action. If they dallied here much longer, debating the finer points of the sordid business of spying, they might both be caught by the British. 

Song