#If the River Was Whiskey

[quotelr]

These occasions always took him by surprise. He was shocked anew each time the crisply surveyed, neatly kept world he so cherished rose up to confront him with all its essential sloppiness, irrationality, and bad business sense.

T.C. Boyle, If the River Was Whiskey

[anoodleyqueer]

i should put my almost 14 years of christian education to good use (death note fanfic)

[wammyhoe]

The Repository

(of Mildly Interesting Content)

Made this master post for my 3 only engaged followers. Don't judge me, I appreciate them. (Seriously though, this is where I'll keep all my writings.)

Wammy boys

How does mello behaves around children?

Would the wammy boys want children (of their own, adopted or otherwise)?

Wammy boys + aftercare

Scents HC - What do they smell like?

What would they do for their s/o’s birthday?

Hesitant kisses, but when they part one whispers "do it again. please" (L and Mello)

Wammy boys when s/o pulls them for a kiss by the belt

How would they comfort you?

Wammy boys with a spouse material reader

Wammy boy's reaction to you tattooing their initials on the ring finger

Wammy boy's reaction to their s/o giving them flowers

Wammy boys as the big-bang theory quotes (gifs)

Wammy boys sense of humor

Negative aspects of dating the wammy boys

Mello

Cupping his cheek to kiss him

Hugs after kisses, that lasts several heartbeats long

Thoughts on Mello and his scars

How could he have survived headcanon

Happy Birthday, Mello!

➔ Loger Fic (ongoing)

Whiskey in a Teacup (Ao3)

Mello x Reader | Mafia!Au | Set after the Kira case | Matt died, Mello survived | NSFW | Mello's mid to late twenties | Summary: It's Mello's first time falling in love, and yours getting involved with the Mob. Some things are impossible without one another.

Beyond Birthday

Possessive BB HC

L Lawliet

You tease him about his sleeping habits (NSFW-ish)

[dreaminginthedeepsouth]

Black bird sitting on top of an open umbrella... - by Christopher Funk, American

* * * * *

“Today it rained hard for much of the afternoon. It got dark fast, let go a hard, final downpour, and now the streets are clear and sharp-smelling. The light, these long last days of summer, is low enough to jewel and yellow, blur, and now, if I tilt my head, rainbow all the drops hanging from the phone line. It’s that the colors weight the drops, slick them with fire and sea greens in shifts.

I walk through this rain thinking at one time I would point this all out to you in person, hold these drops on the wire against those astral stalks, iridesce the water, roll a pearly drop toward you, fray and sift asparagal light. But now you live in another city and you, in another country, and you (who have not yet even made an appearance here) and I no longer speak of such things.

But I want the shine to live. And before I know it, I am offering, tilting into the light and bringing forth … something: fine beads aloft, an abacus of pearls, say. I’m sowing some new green, but it’s for you, Reader, whom I both know and do not know, who both exist and do not exist, who constitute an elsewhere far, further than I can imagine, years, maybe centuries away.

Whose elsewhere is a balm and a comfort."

- Lia Purpura :: Rough Likeness [via whiskey river]

[vintageeurope]

Bushmills, Northern Ireland 1890/1900

[wildsaltair]

a list of new things I learned about Egan's character while reading the novel The Silver Brumby:*

wears checked shirts

likes to drink tea

takes a canteen of tea with him when riding over the countryside

lives somewhere by the Crackenback River in a place called Dead Horse Hut

is a good and kind master to his horses

practices extra hard with his lasso in hopes of catching Thowra (adorable, frankly)

is willing to defy the superstitions about Thowra because he wants to catch him so bad

sustains a head wound while chasing Thowra through the mountains once

gets thrown to the ground and loses his horse while chasing Thowra through the mountains a different time

is after Thowra at the end of the movie not just because because he's obsessed with Thowra, but because he wants Golden and Kunama back

*note: Russell's character in The Silver Brumby movie is a compilation of approximately five different men in the novel, so none of this is "canon" canon. kind of is to me, though, since I have so little to go on.

[fischotterkunst]

Im ill and i have a duvet and a blanket and my big ass goose plushie on me and im still cold as hell…….where is william webb ellis………

noo i'm sorry to hear you're ill :c William would absolutely do his best to try to make you feel better! he's an athlete, after all, so he knows how to keep the body going! he'd probably make a fantastic cure-all soup, although he probably swears by a strong hot toddy as well.....maybe stick with the soup 😬 fortunately he also gives GREAT massages if you're feeling achy, but otherwise he'd be more than happy to just cuddle to help keep you warm UwU

[marejadilla]

Mark Lanegan, “The River Rise” Album: “Whiskey For The Holy Ghost”, 1994, Trak 1 "The River Rise" was used in the 1996 grunge documentary "Hype!," where it accompanied a montage filmed at the vigil following Kurt Cobain's death”.

“... The river rise And it's a mile high Has this world drowned? Has this world tried? 'Cause I could fall like a tear There's nothing else I can do.“

[onherway]

One of my personal favorite poems from my first book of poetry. @janiesgotapen on Instagram

[oldshowbiz]

[cowboyreminders]

Week 5 - Whiskey River 🥃 @yeehawgust

[dreaminginthedeepsouth]

rose by louise bourgeois, 2002, color lithograph on fabric, 12 × 12.5 inches

* * * *

Keep awake - alive - New. Perform the paradox of being hard and yet soft. Survive without calcification of the tender membranes. Be a poet. Be alive.  - Tennessee Williams

[whiskey river]

[sah1x1s-archived]

Groaning softly, JT raised his hand to his face to rub his eyes only to gasp in pain as he pulled at the stitches. “I did not work my ass off for you to mess it up, boy.” He heard next to him, causing him to squint and watch the elderly woman soak a rag in water before she sat back down and wiped the dirt away from the cuts. “Who are you?” The highest he could bring himself to speak was a soft whisper and even then he wasn’t sure he was actually…. speaking.

“I’m the lady who’s set your bones and stitched you up, child. The real question here is who are you?” She shook her head and looked at JT, raising an eyebrow. “Not that I don’t mind that and all, but you kinda have pissed yourself once. I’d rather that didn’t happen again…”

Ignoring his half hearted glare, she continued, trying to hide her smile, “And even though it has been quite some time since I’ve had such a good looking man in this house, I’m thinking that there’s someone else that wants you back? Or are you going to let me be selfish?” Marge asked him, reaching up and swatting his hand away from his forehead. “Stop touching it. You’ll get infected.”

Once he realized that she was teasing him, he tried to push himself up against the head board, quickly pulling his broken hand away from the bed as he put pressure against it. “’m JT. I…what happened?” He asked softly, accepting her help after fighting it for a few seconds and letting her help him sit up.

Leaning his head against the headboard, he closed his eyes for a moment. “Dunno. My husband found you sprawled on the river banks lookin’ like you’ve been straight through hell.” Marge told him, resting a clean rag on his forehead as he blinked a few times.

“C'mon, kid. Someone has to be lookin for you.” He looked at her, frowning silently as he tried to think clearly. “Daisy, my Dais-..” He winced as he tried to lean over the side of the bed, trying to move to get up. “I have to- I need to go to her. She’s probably worried and-” He muttered, glaring at Marge when she pushed his leg back onto the bed.

“You’re not moving a damn inch offa this bed, boy. Here, all you kids have phones right? Give the woman a call. She needs to come get you or no dice.” Pressing a landline phone into JT’s good hand, she leaned back and waited.

Blinking a few times, he tried to remember the number before slowly punching it in, raising the phone to his ear, and listening to the ringing.

Unusual Daisies

The second time JT woke up was when Ted happened to be checking on him. As expected, the old man hardly got anything that would…. make even the smallest of sense to him. All he understood was that this young man had an unusual obsession with daisies. It was the only thing the boy would say, “Daisy. Want-…please. Daisy..” and it was driving him insane.

The kid was lucky enough to be alive, and he wanted damned daisies? What sense did that make? With nothing accomplished other than finding that out, Ted finished cleaning the cuts and related the unusual information to his wife, rolling his eyes and handing her the rubbing alcohol. “He’s much more alert, at least?”

The third time JT woke up, the world became much more focused. Meaning that he could actually fucking feel the goddamn burning and cringe-worthy pain that included an alcohol-soaked rag cleaning the deep gash on his leg, causing him to childishly whine and pull away from the pain.

“Hush up, boy.” Marge scolded with a slight smile on her face as she watched JT huff and whine softly, unaware of the surroundings he was in. It seemed that he was still almost out of it, and she would have continued to think that if it weren’t for him speaking up. “’-ot boy,” JT mumbled through his haze,

“JT.” His eyelashes fluttered as he tried to stay awake, his breathing calming down as he turned his head and was caught by the sight of a vase on the nightstand table.

A vase containing only daisies.

Pain. That’s all he felt. A sharp, BURNING pain radiated throughout his entire body, causing him to gasp in agony, his body twitching as he curled up into himself. Even through his pain-hazed mind, he refused to realize that he had been whimpering about one name and one name only. “Daisy. Daisy- help”

It took over 24 hours before JT woke up, if only for a few brief minutes. Of course, seeing as his luck was shot to shit, no one was around to take notice of him. Over the course of the next day, he would come back to consciousness, lasting longer and longer each time. 

He had even managed to pull himself off the table in an ill attempt at standing when he put pressure on his leg, the pain that shot through his body nearly crippling him as he shouted out in a haze.

His cry snagged the attention of Marge, who had been doing laundry out back, drawing her back into her small house to see what had happened.

It couldn’t have been Ted that made the noise because he had gone out earlier and since the boy hadn’t woken up in days, she didn’t think it was hi- “Oh! What are you doing, boy?” She exclaimed, dropping the towels she had carried in so she could quickly wrap her arms around JT’s midsection, pulling him up as much as she possibly could.

“We need to get you to a bed.” She muttered, glancing around before hooking one arm around him and carefully guiding him to a room. “Don’t put weight on your left leg, boy. I’ve already set it once, I don’t want to set it again.” She scolded him, wincing under the weight of JT.

Once they made it to the room and she had helped him lay down, JT finally let himself speak up, now that the pressure had receded from his leg. “W-” Cutting himself off with a deep cough, JT curled up on his side as much as he could, not knowing where he was, what had happened, who he was with or even what day it was. “Where..” He slurred, forcing himself to stay awake as the blackness seeped into his vision.

“You’re safe, boy. We found you on the bank of the river all beat up. Come now, rest. You need to rest now that we know you’re not brain-dead.” Marge said to him, laying a wet towel on his forehead as JT closed his eyes, muttering, “Daisy… call Daisy…” He trailed off, finally drifting into sleep as Marge sighed, shaking her head. “That didn’t help me none, boy.”

“Marge, we need to take him to one of those doctors.” Ted said over his wife’s shoulder, peering down at the unconscious boy on their kitchen table.

“Hush up, you old man. I was the nurse, not you, remember? His head has stopped-” Marge cut herself off as she began to cough, turning her body away from JT’s and tucking her head against Ted’s shoulder until the coughing subsided.

“His head. It stopped bleeding. I’ve set his bones and splinted his leg. We shouldn’t move him at all, Ted. He could have a head wound!” She exclaimed, huffing in annoyance and pushing Ted away from her to continue to wrap JT’s wounds.

“Of course, he has a head wound, you bat! Do you not see the damn cut on his head? We had to cut half of his hair off just to stem the wound. Crazy woman,” Ted muttered, handing Marge the supplies she needed as she sat near JT, needle in hand to sow up the long gash on his chest.

“Poor boy. How do you think he ended up in the water?” She asked Ted in confusion, only to see him shake his head. “Who knows. We don’t even know who he is.

With all that hair, you’d think he was a regular hooligan that just got in with the wrong crowd, but this one… this one isn’t as beat up as those boys. He’s scared, that’s for sure. But… I don’t know.” Ted said, glancing at his wife as she finished stitching one wound.

“I wonder who he is,” Marge said softly, shaking his head as she reached up to brush the hair away from a cut on JT’s forehead. “I just hope he wakes up soon. It’s not good for him to be unconscious for too long after a trauma like that….”

The Cliff

“Fury... I’m going to ask Daisy to marry me.”

What.

If Daisy was happy, he was delighted. But she could do so much better. She deserved so much better.

“Congratulations.” he gruffly mumbled, clapping the man on the back…more like a shove.

A shove powerful enough to knock JT back a few feet…off the edge of the cliff.

It wasn’t that…only like a…30 ft. drop…

Fury himself was unsure of whether or not it was an accident. So he claimed, when the medics arrived.

“…He slipped…”

JT didn’t know why he said it. He had no reason to even bring it up to the old bastard. So why did he? Maybe it was because telling that man would be the only…. thing that he knew he should do correctly. Daisy looked up to this one-eyed bastard as a father, and everywhere he looked, he realized that what he was giving Daisy wasn’t conventional.

It wasn’t normal, and fuck, he didn’t really care. Look at their lives. They were happy. They were pleased, at least to his knowledge, which is why he found himself bringing it up to Fury. 

And it’s also why he found himself hanging twenty feet from the floor after falling fifteen. “YOU FUCKING BASTARD!” He screamed out, grunting in pain when the corner of the rock he was holding onto started to cut into his palms.

“Fuck, fuck, fuck.” JT muttered, glancing up at the sky before looking under him, closing his eyes tightly and exhaling slowly.

If he could make it up to that branch, maybe he could pull himself up.

That’s all that he could think, that’s it. So that’d be why when he let go with one hand to grip the branch, he didn’t think to shift his footing and that’s why he lost his grip on the rock, propelling him down the cliff, his body pressed against the mud as his clothing slowed him down considerably enough for him to be semi conscious when his body entered the water of the ravine at the base of the cliff.

The fact that he could periodically feel the water enter his nose or mouth was the only reason he kept remembering what was going on. He had hit his head enough for him to know it was bleeding horrible and it felt as if the bones in his left hand had been snapped by the amount of pain he was in, and he didn’t even know why he couldn’t feel his leg. He couldn’t bring himself to calling out for help because taking a breath was painful enough, what would screaming do to him?

After some amount of time, he finally closed his eyes and let himself drift in the water, his body submerging now and then, his breathing shuddered and shallow, only ceasing in shock when the water pushed him onto the shore.

He needed to…. he needed to pull himself out of the water. He shouldn’t leave his body half in the water; he needed to pull himself up, and that’s all he could think of; that’s all he could afford to think of right now because if he thought of Daisy, then… no. No, no, no. Not now. When he was out of this shit, then he could think about her, and only then. So, with that in mind, he reached up in front of him and dug the fingers of his good hand into the mud to pull himself up, dragging his body over the banks slowly and carefully until he safely could close his eyes, finally passing out in pain and exhaustion.

________________________________________________________

It was only hours later that a man wandered upon the body of JT, his breathing slow and shallow as the man tried to wake him up, to no avail.

They were miles and miles away from any sort of law enforcement or medical support, which is the only reason that the man carefully propped JT’s body up and carried, or dragged, him back to his truck in the thought that his wife could help the boy.

[myvinylplaylist]

Johnny Rivers: Johnny Rivers At The Whisky À Go-Go (1964)

Recorded Live - Very Live - At the Whisky a Go Go, Hollywood, California

Imperial Records

[rastronomicals]

4:19 PM EDT June 17, 2024:

Budgie - "Whiskey River" From the album Squawk (1972)

Last song scrobbled from iTunes at Last.fm

File under: Riff Kings