#It rhymes with whisky

[lieutenant-amuel]

I keep rereading my Gabe fic. It’s the fourth chapter now, and

“Gabriel was briskly walking to his school.”

Briskly.

BRISKLY.

TO SCHOOL.

AKAJJSKDKKFKF I UNCONSCIOUSLY MADE HIM A NERD

[brian-in-finance]

Video 📹 from Instagram

Remember… I found him. Well... I found an article, written in 1765, in a journal called Forrester’s. It advocates the repeal of the restrictions on the import of spirits to the Scottish Highlands. — Roger MacKenzie, S03E05 Freedom & Whisky

[midnightmindcave]

People been trying to tell me about Chris Stapleton for years and I listened to Tennessee Whisky a couple of times and was like, yeah, Stapleton, I heard his song once he’s alright.

But holy shit y’all. I’m up way too early on a Sunday and now I’m crying over Blue Side of the Mountain and I ain’t let myself get this homesick in years.

Fuck you Chris Stapleton, i can’t learn guitar right now I’m 48 years old with dyshidrotic eczema in my hands and a kid still at home and I’m a practicing librarian like just lay off dude.

I mean, I could just stop this playlist but, um, no I think I won’t do that lol

[voidfell]

Thinking about Alastor and Mimsy actually. Thinking about them going old timey clubbing and dancing to jazz together, maybe Alastor played the piano for her while she performed, maybe they sang duet's because this man has a voice that begs to be heard. Thinks about her being his willing accomplice to his serial murders. Hell, some of them weren't even his targets, just like in hell, she got herself into trouble and ran directly to hide behind Alastor, and he just took care of it for her. Unsure if she may have also been a cannibal but if she was, she definitely got frequent invites to dinner cause Alastor loves to cook actually. But also like me thinking about how his friendship with Mimsy is clearly a little toxic, and she steps over his boundaries a lot, and maybe he doesn't recognize that because she was his only friend so he didn't have anything to compare it too. As a human, Alastor didn't have all this raw power at his disposal, and that sooo clearly shows in how he reacts to slights to his pride, and in how he lets Mimsy just walk all over him until he has to push her away for his own safety (obviously if anything happened to the Hotel or satan forbid Charlie. . .)

[brummiereader]

MASTERLIST PART FOUR

Unchained Melody (Part Five)

Summary: On the path to mending your fragile marriage, you and Tommy can't bear to stay more than a few moments away from each other. In more ways than one. But as joy and laughter returns to the halls of Arrow House during an evening of ball gowns and tuxedos. The Governess, left scorned and bitter, makes the final arrangements for her deadly plan of revenge.

Warnings: Language, smut (Minors DNI), fluff, postpartum depression, violence, one racial slur, angst

Word count: 5340

Authors note: Thank you for everyone's patience as I took some time away from Tumblr. It's been a while since I have written anything, so I'm a little rusty. Anyway, I hope you enjoy this chapter!

"Tea, Mr...Dogs?" Frances asked, unsure of how to address the burly built man striding though the doors of Arrow House as he removed his green tweed cap from his head. His informal manner never ceasing to stop the head housekeeper from entering a dizzying muddle as she clutched to keep things as one would expect in the grand house she managed.

" Touch of whisky Frances. That'll be grand" he replied, stamping his mud-crusted boots onto the freshly polished floors that had recently been cleaned for the event set to take place that evening as he looked down at his pocket watch. Eight in the morning. Never too early to fire up the old lungs with one of Tommy's finest whiskys. He thought to himself as he looped his thumbs under his suspenders, taking in the grand foyer and all its fineries. He could get accustomed to this.

"Johnny boy!" Tommy greeted loudly to his old friend as he walked down the grand staircase. The smile on his face a pleasant change from the solemn frown that had become customary as of late.

"Nice digs you got 'ere Tom. Any spare rooms going, ey?" He replied with a hearty laugh, shaking your husband's hand with a firm pat on his arm.

" Not enough for your brood, and the dozen you've got scattered across the county, Johnny" Tommy replied with a chuckle, his sudden turn in mood a stark difference from the one he had replaced for the past two years. His humor further set on improving with what he hoped was next to come out of his trusted friend's mouth.

" In good spirits ey, Tommy?" Johnny replied as you made your way down the staircase with William hitched on your waist, babbling a nursery rhyme as he enthusiastically bounced up and down in your arms.

" Something like that..." Tommy's voice trailed off as he turned to face you, adoration and pride beaming lovingly through his eyes at the sight of you both together. Reunited, finally.

As in love as the day he laid eyes on you, Tommy watched as you slowly descended down each step. Recounting the night, you stayed curled up beside him watching the fire he had lit in the living room of your grand home settle into charred blackness as you both fell asleep soundly within each other's arms after having come to blows over what desperately needed to be said.

"...will be made better with what you've got to tell me" he quietly replied, not wanting you to overhear, nor have your settled worries be bogged down once again.

" A cousin up in Scotland" Johnny spoke in a hushed voice as he sent William a wave and a wink your way.

" That's it?" Tommy replied with a furrowed brow, hoping for more information on the woman that had caused nothing but turbulence since her employment, and a shame your husband wanted to be rid of.

" There's been talk, Tom. In the women's wash house", Johnny added, placing a cigarette tightly between his lips, puffing the fumes through the corner of his mouth.

" Gossip Johnny. I need something better than what tattling old women have to say" Tommy replied, taking the pack of cigarettes and lighting his own as he watched the morning rays of sun glisten on your glossy smile, completely unaware of the goings-on and the vicious nature of the woman hired to care for your child.

" Kin to every man in Birmingham. Nothing gets past them, Tom. I'd stake my life on those old women's whispers" he spoke quietly, before turning his back to you and revealing what the nattering of the town had to say about the Governess in a hushed voice as you opened the dining room door and a triumphant smile grew on your husband's lips.

" Now that is interesting, Johnny. Very interesting"

With your mind still plagued with worry, you couldn't help but let the guilt of your lapse in parenting weigh down your thoughts as you sat opposite young William at the large dining table and back in your rightful seat as you awaited your husband. As your hands hovered nervously over your lips, you watched intently as your son took each mouthful of toast, your eyes darting back and forth to the fading red blotches that covered his skin.

" William?" You gasped, your eyes widening as your hand flew across the table to him when a small cough left his buttery mouth.

" He's fine darling" Tommy said as he entered the room, just as you was ready to bolt up and scoop him into your arms to the nearest doctor. " Forgets to chew. Don't you son?" Tommy smiled as his heavy hand brushed along your back, coming to settle on your shoulder.

" Yes..." You replied with a shaky voice looking back at your son, unconvinced of his well-being as your face twisted in worry.

" Hey, look at me Y/N" Tommy said, resting his thumb on your chin, gently turning your head to face him. "He's ok, darling. I promise" He said with raised brows, softly brushing the warmth of your cheek with his calloused hand. Wanting you to be rid of any lingering doubt.

" He's ok" you repeated your husband's comforting words as you settled your hand over his, bringing it down to the table where Tommy quickly intertwined his fingers into yours and you stayed there undisturbed, enjoying the closeness the morning of just the three of you alone brought. That was until the headache that came in the form of a scorned, spiteful woman with her own menacing agenda charged through the dining room.

" Get out" Tommy quickly snapped with a huff. Swiftly laying out the rules of the home he should have done long before your return.

Begrudgingly tolerant of the woman who had thrown a spanner into the sensitivity of his business contacts, his patience had all but evaporated with the learnt information Johnny had shared with him that morning. But with Tommy now holding the upper hand, her wager was in dire jeopardy. The Governesses time left at Arrow House had rapidly descended into hours, if not minutes.

" I need Gerry to take me in the car" she said as she stood at the end of the table, her talons clicking impatiently on the mahogany wood.

" No" Tommy flatly stated as he lifted a cigarette to his mouth, mumbling incoherently his own choice words for her to leave under his breath as he lit a match.

" Tom" you quietly said as you rested your hand on his knee, cooling the rapidly burning fury within him, you knew was dangerously close to boiling over.

For even after her blatant disrespect towards you and the relationship you were trying to rebuild with your family. The last thing you wanted was for your young child's impressionable mind to see his father's anger slip out in front of him over a woman you knew full well was purposely trying to infuriate not only your husband, but you yourself, who had taken back your position she felt now belonged to her. Keep calm and carry on. The British way. And in this situation, the only warranted reaction.

" Taking my family into the city this morning. So..." He shrugged as he glared at her. "Walk" Tommy brushed her off, your intimate touch enough to catch him off guard and stop him from giving her the marching orders she was long overdue right then and there. In turn, sparing you from the outburst he knew she'd unleash and the encounters they had, she would undoubtedly reveal just to hinder your mending heart.

" Perfect. I'm heading that way too" her mouth curled into a smile as her eyes narrowed in on your husband.

" That's fine. Right, Tommy? " you said, squeezing your husband's thigh as your eyes darted to William intently watching his father's changing expression in response to her refusal to keep her distance, and the constant reminder of his lack of loyalty, even in your absence her presence brought.

" Right" Tommy replied clearing his throat, more preoccupied by the feeling of your hand resting soothingly on his leg. Wanting to feel closer to you. Patiently waiting for the moment you would approach him.

A family outing into town with a fourth wheel in tow. The quicker she was gone, the better. Tommy would no longer stand around with such niceties. She would be gone by the end of the day. Kicking and screaming, then so be it. But she'd be gone. He'd promised himself.

" Mr Shelby! Mr Shelby!" The young kitchen aid called out, catching up to Tommy as you headed out the door with William toddling beside you.

" What is it Billy?" Tommy replied with a furrowed brow as he placed his peak cap on his head, motioning for you and William to walk ahead to the Bentley waiting outside.

" I...I need to speak with you" he stammered out, unaccustomed to speaking directly to the head of the house he worked in.

Fair and just. Tommy had never given any member of his staff a reason to fear him. But with the worried glances over his shoulder and his fumbling demeanor, the kitchen boy had not only Tommy's full attention but nagging curiosity as to what had him looking so nervous.

" Billy?" Tommy questioned, his hand firmly resting on his shoulder as he patiently waited for him to speak when the young man's eyes shot across the foyer to the Governess striding through. Her piercing glare enough for him to recoil and quickly apologise for having stopped your husband.

"N..nothing. Sorry to have bothered you sir" he said timidly stepping away as Tommy's head snapped back to the sound of the Governesses heels loudly echoing past him.

" Me, my wife or Frances. No matter the issue Billy, you come to one of us" Tommy said as he watched young Billy's eyes follow the Governess outside. " Understood? Billy?" He added, as the kitchen aid nodded before quickly returning back to the long days' work that awaited him in preparation for the gala of investors Tommy had planned for that evening.

There was no doubt in Tommy's mind that what young Billy had to say was halted by the presence of the Governess. Although determined to get to the bottom of what had occurred. For now his attention lay with you, his family. And the much-needed time he was desperate to spend with you. Just the three of you. At last.

After a short car ride into the city, with the Governess glaring at you with every second that passed, her eyes green with envy as she watched Tommy's thumb brush soothingly over your hand. You were relieved to finally pull up onto Watery Lane, and escape the tension her formidable stare had created.

"I don't think so" Tommy said with a smirk, his hand grasped firmly on the handle of the door to the betting shop, blocking the Governesses unwelcome attempts to follow you and William into the soot-covered terrace house and into the welcome arms of the Shelby family awaiting you. " Times up, love. Pack your bags and be gone by tonight" he said with a look of disgust, dismissing any further conversation with the woman he began to loathe.

" You're forgetting Tommy, that..." She began to seethe, thinking she still had the ultimate ace in her pack of cleverly played cards, before your husband swiftly stopped her in her tracks.

"That what, eh?" Tommy laughed, belittling any superiority she felt she still held over the situation. " You're not as clever as you think you are, sweetheart" Tommy said lighting a cigarette, blowing the fumes in her scorned face as annoyance settled on her perfectly primed brows.

" Been working your way around the whole country, haven't you? Thought you struck gold when you came knocking at my door. Guess you didn't expect my wife to come back though, eh?" Tommy said grabbing her chin, only a mere portion of the information he had learnt from Johnny briefly slipping through his gritted teeth as the Governesses face dropped at her scheming ways being unveiled.

" You'll regret this, Tommy Shelby. You and your precious wife" she spat back as Tommy's grip tightened.

" Get the fuck out of my house. And if you don't, I'll throw you out myself" Tommy snapped as his fingers dug against the bone of her jaw. "Believe me darling, nothing is beneath me. Even when dealing with the fairer sex" he warned her as he pushed her chin away from him out into the cobbled streets in front of his childhood home. Her blatant threats aimed at you enough for Tommy's questionable moral compass to slip even further. If he was going to kill a woman, it would be her. " Stay away from my wife and child" he warned her as he slammed the betting shop door in her face, leaving her fuming with a boiling rage the residents of Watery Lane precariously stayed clear of as they made their way back to their homes.

" What?!" She snapped as two young children hurried past her. Their eyes quickly averting to anything but the reddened-faced woman now marching down the muddied streets in the direction of where her new intentions now lied.

" Still 'ere then?" Esme asked, arms crossed, nose scrunched as she leaned against the shelf the Governess was scanning in the small convenience shop on the corner of the main street of Small Heath. " My John says Tommy's given you your marching orders" Esme said cracking a smile, her and everyone else in the Shelby family having never warmed to the woman that was intent on replacing you in every way.

" With child again, Esme?" the Governess scoffed as she looked down her nose past her hazel features to the swell of her stomach. " Don't your lot ever stop? What's this one? Third, fourth? I can't keep up " she laughed as she returned to the shelf, and it's curious contents.

" My lot. What's that supposed to mean, Gover-ness?" Esme was quick to respond, pushing her way between the shelf and the woman who was hellbent on insulting anyone who bore the name Shelby. Her disdain for the head of the family firmly at the forefront of her thoughts every waking hour of the day.

" There's that famous anger. Gypsies. You're all the same" she insulted, pushing past the blossoming bump and picking up a glass bottle neatly labeled "Rodent Poison", its killing substance, cyanide. Her swift concealment of her intended purchase going unnoticed by Esme, whose face had twisted in offense at the Governesses insulting, cruel words.

" So prim, so proper" your sister-in-law scoffed, as she looked at the neatly dressed woman from head to toe. "But I've heard talk. I know exactly what you are, how low you'll stoop. Governess to the upper class. Now running from a string of angry wives you wanted to replace and the affairs you had with their men" Esme smirked as she watched the Governesses quick wit falter, and her expression change to one of anger at her intentions further being exposed. " Your lot. Homewreckers. Filth" Esme spat with contempt as the Governess stood back, tightly holding the bottle against her body.

" Just this, Mr Higgs" the tall women said as she turned away from the braided beauty, placing the deadly bottle of household poison on the counter and paying. " Goodbye Esme" she smirked, before opening the rickety wooden door, the chime of the bell hovering above it announcing her departure and another step closer she was to playing her next lethal hand.

As the household staff hurried from room to room later that day, finishing off the last of their duties before the guests arrived. You kept yourself busy with worry with what the many invitees would have to say about your sudden reappearance at Arrow house as you prepared yourself for the dreaded evening.

" I can't do this...fuck. I can't do this" you mumbled under your breath as you shook your dressing gown off in front of the large standing mirror in your bedroom.

Stood there behind the dressing screen, your hand traced down your stomach over the faded scars that had turned opaque in the many months that had rolled by. A reminder of the home you kept your son safe, warm within the swell of your stomach. But imperfect, scarred.

Why won't they leave? You sobbed rubbing your flesh red, yearning for the body you had once, the one that captivated your husband's adoration. The one he wouldn't go a day without kissing every inch of. Was he no longer in love with you that way? Was that why he hadn't gotten closer to you? Kissed you? Your mind nattered to you as you turned to pull the sequin gown from its hanger, throwing it on the chair beside you when the door opened and your husband quietly walked in.

"Tommy, is that you?" You called out as you slipped your feet into your laced lingerie.

"Guests are arriving Y/N" he replied as he slowly walked towards the large wooden cabinet, pulling out a set of gold cufflinks. His initials intricately engraved into each one.

" Shit, I'm sorry. Can you help me, with the zip?" You asked, before quickly scrambling for the dress you had launched to the side in your flustered state. " No! Wait! Just...just hold on a second" you all but shouted, quickly pulling the dress over your knees before your husband saw your exposed body.

Coming to a sudden stop, Tommy waited behind the floral painted screen of Gardenias and Ferns, unable to stop his wandering eyes and loose footing from being captured by the soft amber lighting bouncing off the curve of your hip partially covered by the screen. Watching it slowly sway from side to side as you pulled the dress over your body.

Never had he felt so much desire, so much longing to hold you as he silently watched you glide the glittering gown up the edges of your body. The little he could see taking his already labored breath away from him within seconds.

"Y/N, darling?" Tommy said clearing his throat as he stepped back, recomposing himself and the collar of his shirt tightening around the pulsing vein in his neck.

"Ok, you can come" you said as Tommy cocked a brow, a small smile of amusement flashing across his face at your choice of words. Unbeknownst to you how true your statement was close to becoming a reality for him.

" I can't reach, can you just..." You said, gesturing behind your back as your smartly suited husband stood behind you, brushing his thumb down the middle of your back until the small zipper resting over the white lace of your underwear.

" You ok?" Tommy asked, swallowing heavy. Unsure if he was asking himself the very same question as he slowly pulled your dress together.

" Nervous" you smiled timidly to him in the mirror as you smoothed down the front of your gown, your face quickly twisting in uncertainty at your choice of dress.

" I won't leave your side" Tommy said turning you around as your hands came up to straighten his limp tie. " Not once " he said tucking the loose whispers of hair behind your jeweled ordained ears, his body slowly closing the small gap between you both.

" Promise?" You replied lifting your gaze to his hooded eyes staring down at you as you inched closer.

"Promise" he answered bending his head down to capture your ruby lips when a knock on a door and the announcement that all the guests had arrived stole the long awaited moment between you both.

And promise he did. Never once during the entirety of the night did Tommy leave your side as he worked the room and the many guests he had to greet, stealing small glances at you every brief moment he could to gaze at your radiating beauty. Whether it be talking to politicians or men of nobility, Tommy's hand protectively hovered next to yours throughout the evening, discreetly brushing over your fingers as he counted the hours to be finally alone with you again. He couldn't have hoped for a smoother night.

But calm is far from what was taking place behind the scenes of the glitzy evening of flowing ball gowns and filled champagne glasses that adorned the lower level of Arrow House. Far from calm.

With a smile painted on her face and a hop in her step. Your trusted housekeeper for the first time in a long time finally felt the early years of your residence in Arrow House joyfully seeping their way back into the heart of the home through the laughter and music that could be heard downstairs as she made her way up to William's nursery. Hoping he was sleeping as soundly as she had left him. But when she reached the door of your son's room, a reminder of the dark presence that still resided over the stately home could be heard whispering vicious words to the innocent ears of its youngest resident.

" I'll be your new mother soon. Your old mummy's not well, William. She left you, remember?" Don't worry she'll be gone soon" the Governesses voice hushed as she loomed over William's cot as he tossed and turned restlessly in his sleep. "Just you, me and your father, it won't be long now" she added as Frances watched on in horror through the crack of the door, her unfathomable words spilling from her thinly lined lips.

" Get out! Leave!" Frances' voice rose as she hurried to check on young William's well-being. " Mr Shelby ordered you to leave. If you had any sense, you'd go before he learns of the disgusting things I just heard you say"

" Oh Frances. The busy worker bee. Always listening, watching..." she giggled with a quick glare as she sauntered to the open door. " It will all end in heartbreak" she said as she turned around to face your trusted housekeeper and her hand firmly grasped onto the frame of the door, blocking any future attempts to reach your child and seethe her vapid words once again.

" When will you understand... Agness?" she questioned, speaking her name for the first time. Unwilling to use the title of Governess she no longer deserved. " You were but a minor distraction for him as he grieved and cried for the love he still held for his wife. He doesn't want you. Now leave" Frances said as the Governesses smirk dropped and her wicked hatred for anyone daring to get in her way spilled over into fury.

All it took was a blinding second, a swift merciless moment for the Governess to grab hold of the door and slam it shut on Frances' hand, crushing her wrist between the door and its frame.

Muffling her screams with all her might to not wake and frighten the young child in her care. Frances desperately tried to free her hand and the excruciating pain soaring through the snapping of her bones.

" Busy bodies always get their comeuppance, dear Frances " she said letting go of the door before her wrist gave way and broke.

Clutching onto her throbbing hand as she quietly wept. Frances slid down in a heap to the floor as she watched the Governess quietly walk away through her teary vision into the darkened corridor to a Charleston playing loudly downstairs.

"Frances! Frances!" The young kitchen aid caught up to her as she walked through the foyer, quickly grabbing a linen napkin and wrapping it around her limp wrist. " You're hurt" young Billy said, taking her hand as Frances stopped a young maid walking by.

" Go sit with William Ethel. All night. Don't leave his side" Frances ordered as the maid hurried with haste up the winding staircase to the nursery.

" What's going on? Is he Ill? I'll... I'll get Mr Shelby, Mrs Shelby" Billy stuttered as he looked at the terror weighing down your housekeeper's frightened face.

" No Billy. Let them be" she reluctantly replied as she turned to see the both of you dancing the last song of the night together, smiling lovingly at each other as small giggles joyously left your lips at Tommy's quick-footed steps. The happiness beaming off your faces tearing her away from interrupting your rekindling marriage. She would tell you in the morning. She promised herself.

" Frances, there's something I think you should know" Billy said, following her into the bustling kitchen as the staff washed their way through the many plates of canapes that had been eaten and glasses of champagne that had been drunk.

" What is it, Billy?"

As the evening slowly died down, and enough time had been spent in the company of people your husband had little, if any regard for other than their checkbooks. He quietly whisked you off to the small living room of your home to a lit fire and two crystal glasses of champagne waiting for you. Hiding you both away from any further small talk or pressing matters with the turn of a key. Alone, at last.

" Wasn't your finest moment, so I've been told" you laughed after recounting the story his brothers had told you about your poor husband's ghostly face and unsteady feet after hearing you scream bloody murder from down in the foyer he'd been pacing for near ten hours whilst you were in the throes of labor with William.

" Sweetheart.." He stopped, leaning forward to you with a smirk on his face. " You sounded like you were giving birth to the antichrist himself" he laughed, earning him a quick smack across the chest. " I've seen it at the pictures, so I know how that shit ends" he said tipping his glass to you with a cocky smile. The top three buttons of his shirt undone, waistcoat and cufflinks gone. For the first time in two years, Tommy looked relaxed. Happy.

" Yes well, good thing I gave you an angel of a son" you corrected him, taking a sip of your third glass of champagne.

" That you did" Tommy smiled to you. With his eyes glossed over with love, he reached his hand across the feathered cushion to softly rub his thumb across your knuckles. " How did I get so lucky, eh?" He sighed heavily, his eyes scanning across your face, engraving the very moment into his memory. Scared, his happiness would be snatched away from him once again.

" Tom..." You blushed, gazing up at him through your full lashes as a small nagging moment of guilt escaped the corners of your mind for having left him and your son.

" C'mere" he said, quickly simmering your worries as he ushered you closer to him with a tilt of his head, placing his empty glass on the table beside him.

With his breath hot against your lips, Tommy cupped your cheeks, closing the mere millimeters between you both and capturing your mouth in a tender longing kiss.

" Tommy..." You mumbled, quickly feeling the passion rise within you as the embrace intensified with the welcome feeling of your husband's tongue gently stroking against your own.

With a surge of confidence and a need to urgently feel your husband's body intertwined with yours, you pulled yourself up onto his lap as Tommy watched your hurried movements. Refraining himself and his own desperation to flip you onto your back, and bury himself in you.

Why was he just watching you? You thought to yourself as you undid each remaining button of his shirt one by one, a sudden wave of insecurity heating your cheeks as Tommy's hands stayed motionless by his side as his intent stare held still.

Were you rushing things, did you misunderstand his intentions ? Then why did he kiss you like that? Your brain ticked over with questions as he watched you timidly slide the straps of your dress down past your full breasts, sending a wave of desire through him as he scrambled to keep his composure, and let you take control of the pace.

Had he been too restrained? Shit. Did you think he didn't want this? He questioned himself as he watched your eyes fill with uncertainty as your hands hovered over the buckle of his belt.

" Don't stop..." Tommy breathed heavily as you apprehensively slid your hand down his trousers only to recoil with doubt that this was even what he wanted. " Darling please, don't stop..." He said swallowing harshly, his heart rapidly pounding in his chest at the long awaited feel of your touch as he torturously kept himself from taking things quicker. " Fuck" your husband moaned as you wrapped your hand around his stiffened cock, slowly pumping it up and down within your palm.

With your dress bunched up around your stomach, you lined his throbbing length up. Briefly lingering it beneath you, when your husband could no longer withstand the wait and his hands flew up to your waist sinking you down on to him with a gasp as he threw his head back in relief.

" Tommy" You moaned his name as he bucked further into you, his grip securely fastened on your waist.

"Sweetheart, look at me..." Your husband panted holding onto your hips as you rocked back of forth, eyes tightly shut, mouth agape in the highs of pleasure. " Y/N, look at me" he pleaded as he watched you finally open eyes, pulling you forward into a searing embrace before flipping you onto your back and ridding himself of the rest of his clothes

" Tom" you breathlessly whined as he thrusted into you, his hands tracing down the warmth of your body as he pulled at the fabric of dress in his way you was reluctant to be rid of.

" Stop hiding from me Y/N " Tommy said, as you pulled your gown back up, covering the scars your self-conscious thoughts resented as Tommy pulled out and knelt between your legs. " It's ok" he nodded reassuringly, gently moving your stubborn hands away and pulling the remainder of your clothes from your body.

"You kept our son safe" Tommy said, brushing his thumb over the small faded streaks as he watched your eyes well with tears. Hearing your worried thoughts without a single word leaving your lips.

" Hey, shhh" he hushed your fears away as he settled his heavy body down between your legs, his lips pecking their way over the slope of your breasts until capturing your mouth in his. " My wife. My beautiful wife" he said reaching his hand down to his pulsing cock, sighing at the feeling of your warmth enveloping him once again as he urgently entered you. " I love you Y/N" Tommy moaned between each labored breath as he rocked his hips into you, instantly ridding you of any doubt of his remaining feelings for you with three simple words. The sweetest of words you realised you had been waiting to hear to finally feel at peace with your past actions.

" I love you too, Tommy" you breathlessly moaned as you held onto your husband's strong frame as he pulled your legs around his back, wrapping them tightly against him to feel as close, as deep as he could possibly be. At one with you. Making love to you.

As morning came and the sun glistened through the netted curtains. Beams of light cascaded over the woven blanket draped over your tired bodies as you laid soundly asleep on the plush setee you had spent the night passionately making up for the many sleepless hours of darkness you had both endured. But darkness remained, looming feet from you. Creeping in unseen, unheard.

" Soon" The Governess whispered through gritted teeth as her fingers clasped tightly around the blade in her hand, her lust for vengeance close to sabotaging her deadly plan enough for her to find her way into the small haven you had made as she watched you from the door wrapped in a lovers embrace. " Soon..."

PART SIX (The Final)

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[strictlyfavorites]

They used to use urine to tan animal skins, so families used to all pee in a pot & then once a day it was taken & sold to the tannery. If you had to do this to survive you were "piss poor."

But worse than that were the really poor folk who couldn't even afford to buy a pot; they "didn't have a pot to piss in" & were the lowest of the low.

The next time you are washing your hands & complain because the water temperature isn't just how you like it, think about how things used to be. Here are some facts about the 1500s.

Most people got married in June because they took their yearly bath in May, and they still smelled pretty good by June. Since they were starting to smell, however, brides carried a bouquet of flowers to hide the body odor. Hence the custom today of carrying a bouquet when getting married.

Baths consisted of a big tub filled with hot water. The man of the house had the privilege of the nice clean water, then all the other sons and men, then the women, and finally the children. Last of all the babies. By then the water was so dirty you could actually lose someone in it . . . hence the saying, "Don't throw the baby out with the Bath water!"

Houses had thatched roofs-thick straw-piled high, with no wood underneath. It was the only place for animals to get warm, so all the cats and other small animals (mice, bugs) lived in the roof. When it rained it became slippery and sometimes the animals would slip and fall off the roof, resulting in the idiom, "It's raining cats and dogs."

There was nothing to stop things from falling into the house. This posed a real problem in the bedroom where bugs and other droppings could mess up your nice clean bed, therefore, a bed with big posts and a sheet hung over the top afforded some protection. That's how canopy beds came into existence.

The floor was dirt. Only the wealthy had something other than dirt, leading folks to coin the phrase "dirt poor."

The wealthy had slate floors that would get slippery in the winter when wet, so they spread thresh (straw) on floor to help keep their footing. As the winter wore on, they added more thresh until, when you opened the door, it would all start slipping outside. A piece of wood was placed in the entrance-way, subsequently creating a "thresh hold."

In those old days, they cooked in the kitchen with a big kettle that always hung over the fire.. Every day they lit the fire and added things to the pot. They ate mostly vegetables and did not get much meat. They would eat the stew for dinner, leaving leftovers in the pot to get cold overnight and then start over the next day. Sometimes stew had food in it that had been there for quite a while, and thus the rhyme, "Peas porridge hot, peas porridge cold, peas porridge in the pot nine days old."

Sometimes they could obtain pork, which made them feel quite special. When visitors came over, they would hang up their bacon to show off. It was a sign of wealth that a man could, "bring home the bacon." They would cut off a little to share with guests and would all sit around and "chew the fat."

Those with money had plates made of pewter. Food with high acid content caused some of the lead to leach onto the food, causing lead poisoning death. This happened most often with tomatoes, so for the next 400 years or so, tomatoes were considered poisonous.

Bread was divided according to status. Workers got the burnt bottom of the loaf, the family got the middle, and guests got the top, or the "upper crust."

Lead cups were used to drink ale or whisky. The combination would sometimes knock the imbibers out for a couple of days. Someone walking along the road would take them for dead and prepare them for burial.. They were laid out on the kitchen table for a couple of days and the family would gather around and eat and drink and wait and see if they would wake up, creating the custom of holding a wake.

England is old and small and the local folks started running out of places to bury people. So they would dig up coffins and would take the bones to a bone-house, and reuse the grave. When reopening these coffins, 1 out of 25 coffins were found to have scratch marks on the inside and they realized they had been burying people alive, so they would tie a string on the wrist of the corpse, lead it through the coffin and up through the ground and tie it to a bell. Someone would have to sit out in the graveyard all night (the graveyard shift.) to listen for the bell; thus, someone could be, saved by the bell or was considered a dead ringer.

And that's the truth. Now, whoever said History was boring?

[miasmaghoul]

Okay, you said you wanted non-sexual prompts, so if this is a no thats totally fine. Could you write like casual piss? I don't know how to word this. No smut involved, just domestic? If that makes sense...

anon please know that the phrase "casual, domestic piss" has been on repeat in my weird little brain since i first read this, and also that i had an idea for it immediately

god i am such a pissboy smh

anyway, here, have some soft rulti ft a little casual, domestic piss.

what a sentence.

Rain is not what you could call a morning person.

He never rouses before noon, at least not willingly, and even when he is awake he simply migrates. Shuffles out of bed and drapes himself dramatically over a sofa to doze back off until someone pays attention to him. Trying to wake Rain up before he's ready is a futile task at best, and at worst a bite risk. Generally this isn't much of a problem - mass is in the evening, there are no strictly scheduled mealtimes or chores, so Rain is free to be as slothful as his heart desires.

Even rehearsal doesn't usually interfere.

On an average day, any practice happens whenever the ghouls feel like it. There's no rhyme or reason to it, really; sometimes they have creative energy that needs expressing, sometimes Dew gets a bug up his ass about working on a solo and drags along company, sometimes Mountain gets in one of his moods and hauls Rain over his shoulder for an impromptu...rhythm session.

Point is, it's not really something that's planned. More of a casual affair, something they do every day but never the same way twice. Again, this works out perfectly for Rain. There's never a rush to start the day, and the others know by now not to expect him at anything close to a reasonable hour.

The issue arises when tours approach.

Unfortunately (for Rain), Copia has proven to be a morning person. Rain (somewhat) silently laments that fact every time Sister Imperator announces a new leg, a new cycle. Every time, Rain hopes it'll be different. That Copia will suddenly despise the idea of singing with the morning sun, that he won't expect them to be up and ready to go by 9am, can you imagine?

(It should be noted that Rain is the only ghoul that actually minds this.)

Alas, this never proves to be the case, and as soon as his phone chimed with the notification of an Imperator meeting Rain knew that his beauty sleep was soon to be severely compromised.

"Next week," Copia had said after Sister Imperator laid out the proposed itinerary. "Next week, on Sunday, we will resume our standard rehearsal schedule."

He'd handed out a list of thirty songs to each of them, a not-so-short list for the ghouls to study and provide input on. An opportunity for them to put together their own setlists to compare and contrast them with one another.

Rain had used his sheet of paper to hide his frown, dreading the fact that Sunday was only five sleeps away.

"I know that face," Swiss had teased when they left the meeting, looping a strong arm around Rain's shoulders. "Someone's being a pouty princess again."

Rain had given him a hiss, but Swiss just grinned at him in that very Swiss way and, well, Rain can never stay mad at him anyway.

"Not all of us look good with eye bags like yours" he'd grumbled, a statement that had wrung a loud ha from Swiss.

"I dunno," he'd snickered, ducking his head to knock his horns with Rain's. "You look pretty damn good when I tire you out."

Rain had rolled his eyes so hard he'd gotten dizzy, but it wasn't an accusation he could deny.

He also couldn't deny Swiss the opportunity to prove his point, and as they lay in the afterglow Rain gives a mighty yawn.

"This's bullshit," he slurs against Swiss' chest, nuzzling into the spot that smells the most like pepper and whisky and old weed. "Who even gets up that early?"

"Most of the abbey is up at dawn," Swiss chuckles, settling into Rain's lanky hold. "You're the exception to the rule, starfish."

Rain would argue, but then Swiss' purr kicks up and he's sinking his fingers into his sweat-damp waves and Rain feels little desire to do more than enjoy the way Swiss envelopes him. The way their skin sticks together with drying sweat, among other things. Swiss had given him a courteous cleanup where it mattered, but Rain's entirely too wiped out for a shower. Wonderfully sore all over, drained, and way too dehydrated to stand up for very long.

He doesn't mind it though - not when it makes him smell like Swiss too.

"Whatever," he grumbles, grabbing the covers and tugging them up over his shoulders. "S'still bullshit."

He's been fighting to keep his eyes open for the last twenty minutes or so, drifting on casual conversation and the brush of Swiss' fingertips along his bare back. Now that they're finally settling in Rain finds himself fading by the second.

"Don' wake me up'n the morning," he adds with another yawn, and the last thing Rain hears before all goes quiet is the raspy little laugh Swiss gives in return.

The next thing he hears is rushing water, creaking pipes and the telltale twitter of birdsong.

It feels like no time at all since he sunk into the peaceful realm of sleep, but when he dares to crack an eye Rain finds himself assaulted by rosy sunlight. Morning. Early, by the look of it. Rain shuts his eyes tight and groans.

"Finally," a deep voice hums, clearly amused. Footsteps pad across the floor and Rain feels the mattress dip behind him. "I've been shaking you for ten minutes."

Swiss reaches up to scratch at the base of one of Rain's horns, affectionate. Rain makes an unhappy sound, as close to a real whine as he ever gets, and Swiss gives his shoulder a squeeze.

"Why 'm I awake?" Rain hates his morning voice, all thick and inelegant. "Did I sleep 'til Sunday?"

"If that's what it takes to get you out of bed," Swiss chuffs, reaching up to tuck a stray curl behind Rain's ear. "Let's go, up 'n at 'em," he encourages, regardless of continual grumbly protests. "You might as well get used to existing before lunchtime while you can."

"This is torture," Rain complains, tucking his knees up towards his chest. "Inhumane."

"Good thing we aren't human, I guess."

Rain cracks an eye open just to shoot Swiss' blurry visage a sideways glare. Swiss winks as he lifts the covers just enough to lean down and press a kiss to Rain's shoulder. He rests his chin there after, gives him a warm smile.

"C'mon, raindrop," he lilts, sneaking lithe fingers under the covers. Dragging them along the nape of Rain's neck. "I'm drawing you a bath, surely you can forgive me."

Ah, that would explain the water he can still hear. Rain blinks at him, sluggish.

"Remains to be seen," he grouses, "but it's a start."

Swiss flashes him a grin, and then those warm, cozy covers are ripped from Rain's naked body with no ceremony. He yelps as the chilly morning air hits his skin, more awake than he ever intended to be and scowling at the other ghoul.

"Oh don't make that face," Swiss teases, reaching down to give Rain's nose a gentle flick. "C'mon, I put that weird shit you like in the tub and everything."

Swiss holds Rain's ankle, rubs his thumb over the bony ridge of it while Rain sniffs at the air. Picks up notes of rosemary and peppermint, citrus and rose. The bath salts Mountain had gifted him for Yule, an energizing scent that's sure to chase the exhaustion from his muscles.

Still, he can't give in that easily.

"Fine," he pouts, stretching his legs and not at all adoring the way Swiss' fingers glide along his skin. "But only if you carry me."

The words earn him an extreme eye roll, but Swiss can't hide his amusement. He heaves a mighty sigh, cracks his neck and knuckles, and Rain most definitely doesn't watch the muscles in his arms and chest flex.

"As you command, princess."

Swiss says it with an exaggerated bow, and then he's scooping Rain up with no further preamble. Rain snickers, looping his arms around Swiss' neck and nuzzling into his shoulder. He's warm and solid, comfy, and if the walk to the bathroom was more than ten steps Rain could very easily drift off again.

As it stands, he's being set down far too soon for his liking, letting out a squeak when his bare ass meets the cold marble of his vanity. Swiss kisses him on the forehead when Rain frowns once again, giving his stomach a little tickle just to make him squirm.

"You want it hot or scalding?" Swiss asks as he strides to the tub, steam wafting around him. Rain stares unabashedly at his ass, eyes tracing the obvious bite mark he left there the night before.

"Boil me like a lobster," Rain sighs, stretching his arms over his head and trilling at the way his spine pops. Swiss gives him a thumbs up, twisting the faucet knobs while Rain yawns. "How much salt did you put in?"

"Enough to make you smell like the greenhouse for a week," Swiss replies, testing the temperature and only hissing a little at the heat. Rain takes a deep breath, taking in the herbal steam and letting it soak into his skin. "Mount'll be all over you."

"Don't sound so jealous," Rain says with a sleepy tilt, scratching at his chest, "you can share me once in a while."

Swiss snorts as he wipes his hand on the bath mat, turning back with a lazy smile on his face. Rain blows him a kiss while he swings his feet, ankles crossed, and doesn't complain when Swiss crowds him closer to the mirror ar his back. Palms planted on the vanity so he can lean in and nose at Rain's temple.

"You assume I want to share," Swiss rumbles, possessive fangs grazing Rain's jaw. It gives him the shivers in the best way, but Swiss doesn't push further. He steps back so Rain can see the sparkle in his golden eyes, the wrinkles at their corners. He's beautiful, and if Rain were in a more giving mood he'd say so. As it stands...

"You can cope," he mumbles, nose in the air, and earns another eye roll. Rain sticks his tongue out at the other ghoul just because he can, reaching for his comb to try and work out some of the knots Swiss gifted him last night. Before he can grab it, though-

"Ah," Swiss interrupts, batting at Rain's hand. Rain raises a brow as Swiss picks up the comb instead, moving to stand in front of him again. "You're playing princess this morning, remember?" He twirls the comb between two fingers, the same motion he does when he steals Mountain's sticks. "Lemme take care of you like one."

Swiss offers a roguish wink, and while some part of Rain knows that an offer like this - especially from Swiss - always comes with caveats, he can't find it in himself to argue. Blame it on sleep deprivation (nine hours isn't nearly enough), but all he can do is hum and nod.

"If you insist," he yawns, leaning forward to rest his cheek gainst Swiss' pecs, "but don't be surprised if you put me back to sleep."

Swiss' laugh resonates through his skull, dull claws scratch at his scalp, and the purr that kicks up in Rain's chest when he begins to comb is one he has no control over.

Swiss talks to him while he works, picking out every tangle he can find. Talks about everything and nothing, from the places they'll be playing this next tour, to the fitting for their new uniforms. Rain hums where appropriate, but mostly he drifts. Basks in the scratch of Swiss' chest hair against his cheek and the care with which he fixes his hair. It can't take more than a few minutes, but it feels like forever in the best way.

"Alright," Swiss eventually murmurs, stroking delicate fingers through Rain's knot-free waves. A delightful feeling that could put Rain back to sleep all on its own. "Ready for the bath, your highness?"

Rain huffs out a soft laugh, nips at his chest just hard enough to make Swiss jump. He's woozy when he sits up, half present and more than a little floaty, so relaxed he may yet melt into the sink beside him. He yawns again, smacks his lips while Swiss twirls a curl around his finger.

"Mm," Rain hums with a bleary blink. He reaches up to sling both arms around Swiss' neck, pulling him down for a quick kiss. "Almost," he sighs against Swiss' mouth. The other ghoul pulls back, gives him a quizzical look. "Gotta pee first," Rain elaborates, shooing Swiss away. "C'mon, lemme up."

"Nah," Swiss replies, waving a hand, and it takes Rain a second to register it. He grins again, happy as a clam, and then he's hoisting Rain up by the backs of his thighs and all Rain can do is scrabble at his back with a yelp, clinging.

"What the -"

Before he can get the words out, Swiss is setting him down again, right in front of the toilet. Lets Rain get his feet under him, holding his hips until he's balanced, and then he's pressing a quick kiss to his horn. Rain blinks up at him, opens his mouth to speak, but then Swiss is turning him on the spot. Snuggling himself right up to Rain's back and hooking his chin over his shoulder, dragging the tip of his nose along the shell of his ear.

"As you wish," he croons, low, and Rain chuckles. Leans back into that broad chest and moves to aim at the bowl, eager to empty himself so he can finally slide into the herbal soup Swiss has so lovingly prepared.

Swiss grabs his wrist before he can manage it, though, and Rain just stares at it. Blinks. Swiss lifts his hand to his lips, kisses Rain's palm.

"Uh-uh," he breathes, warm against his skin, "I told you, sweetheart," another kiss, to the inside of Rain's wrist, "lemme take care of you."

Rain shivers at the feel of a large hand coming to rest low on his stomach, the one holding his wrist guiding in to rest over Swiss' own hand. Rain stares down at them, laces his fingers with Swiss', and heaves a deep sigh when Swiss' other hand slides over his hip. Tracing the line of his happy trail with two fingertips, until he reaches the soft swell of Rain's cock.

Swiss takes it in hand, aims, and Rain feels the strangest bloom of warmth in his chest.

"Go on," Swiss encourages, kissing the hinge of his jaw, "when you're done I'll even scrub your back."

"You'd do that anyway," Rain replies, and Swiss gives him a half shrug.

"A little incentive never hurts."

Rain snorts, but doesn't feel the need to argue. He takes in the way his cock looks in Swiss' hand, pale against his skin, nothing sexual about it regardless of their position. Of the way he can feel every inch of Swiss against his back, warm and comfortable and familiar. It's intimate, to be sure, but in a context Rain isn't sure he's ever felt before.

Rain offers a pleased sigh when the last drops hit the water, lets Swiss give it a couple shakes, and then he's turning in his arms. Planting a kiss on his stubbled chin.

He gives Swiss' hand a squeeze, presses it into his belly, and both of them groan when the first few dribbles leak out. It's no time before Rain can let go fully, a steady stream of relief, silly giggles escaping him when Swiss moves his dick around to draw shapes in the water. Swirls and circles and a their initials, because Swiss doesn't know how not to be a sap.

"Better?"

"Better," Rain smiles, wrapping long arms around Swiss' waist. "Now get me in that tub, I'm sick of being sticky."

Swiss laughs, gives him a squeeze, and this time Rain's expecting to be lifted.

"Such a princess," Swiss complains, lowering him into the steaming bath, and Rain groans. Swiss ruffles his hair, wasting no time in sliding into the tub behind him.

"Guess that makes you my prince," Rain mumbles, resting back against him the moment Swiss settles, and the pleased purr that rattles through his chest is almost enough to turn it into a jacuzzi.

[heavenlybackside]

Most people got married in June because they took their yearly bath in May, and they still smelled pretty good by June. Since they were starting to smell, however, brides carried a bouquet of flowers to hide the body odor. Hence the custom today of carrying a bouquet when getting married.

Baths consisted of a big tub filled with hot water. The man of the house had the privilege of the nice clean water, then all the other sons and men, then the women, and finally the children. Last of all the babies. By then the water was so dirty you could actually lose someone in it … hence the saying, “Don’t throw the baby out with the Bath water!”

Houses had thatched roofs-thick straw-piled high, with no wood underneath. It was the only place for animals to get warm, so all the cats and other small animals (mice, bugs) lived in the roof. When it rained it became slippery and sometimes the animals would slip and fall off the roof, resulting in the idiom, “It’s raining cats and dogs.”

There was nothing to stop things from falling into the house. This posed a real problem in the bedroom where bugs and other droppings could mess up your nice clean bed, therefore, a bed with big posts and a sheet hung over the top afforded some protection. That’s how canopy beds came into existence.

The floor was dirt. Only the wealthy had something other than dirt, leading folks to coin the phrase “dirt poor.”

The wealthy had slate floors that would get slippery in the winter when wet, so they spread thresh (straw) on floor to help keep their footing. As the winter wore on, they added more thresh until, when you opened the door, it would all start slipping outside. A piece of wood was placed in the entrance-way, subsequently creating a “thresh hold.”

In those old days, they cooked in the kitchen with a big kettle that always hung over the fire.. Every day they lit the fire and added things to the pot. They ate mostly vegetables and did not get much meat. They would eat the stew for dinner, leaving leftovers in the pot to get cold overnight and then start over the next day. Sometimes stew had food in it that had been there for quite a while, and thus the rhyme, “Peas porridge hot, peas porridge cold, peas porridge in the pot nine days old.”

Sometimes they could obtain pork, which made them feel quite special. When visitors came over, they would hang up their bacon to show off. It was a sign of wealth that a man could, “bring home the bacon.” They would cut off a little to share with guests and would all sit around and “chew the fat.”

Those with money had plates made of pewter. Food with high acid content caused some of the lead to leach onto the food, causing lead poisoning death. This happened most often with tomatoes, so for the next 400 years or so, tomatoes were considered poisonous.

Bread was divided according to status. Workers got the burnt bottom of the loaf, the family got the middle, and guests got the top, or the “upper crust.”

Lead cups were used to drink ale or whisky. The combination would sometimes knock the imbibers out for a couple of days. Someone walking along the road would take them for dead and prepare them for burial.. They were laid out on the kitchen table for a couple of days and the family would gather around and eat and drink and wait and see if they would wake up, creating the custom of holding a wake.

They used to use urine to tan animal skins, so families used to all pee in a pot & then once a day it was taken & sold to the tannery. If you had to do this to survive you were “piss poor.”

But worse than that were the really poor folk who couldn’t even afford to buy a pot; they “didn’t have a pot to piss in” & were the lowest of the low.

The next time you are washing your hands & complain because the water temperature isn’t just how you like it, think about how things used to be. Here are some facts about the 1500s.

England is old and small and the local folks started running out of places to bury people. So they would dig up coffins and would take the bones to a bone-house, and reuse the grave. When reopening these coffins, 1 out of 25 coffins were found to have scratch marks on the inside and they realized they had been burying people alive, so they would tie a string on the wrist of the corpse, lead it through the coffin and up through the ground and tie it to a bell. Someone would have to sit out in the graveyard all night (the graveyard shift.) to listen for the bell; thus, someone could be, saved by the bell or was considered a dead ringer.

And that’s the truth. Now, whoever said History was boring?

[mybeautifulchristianjourney]

Grain of Salt "Facts"

I don't know if these are true or not but they come from a source I tend to trust. Still, take 'em with a grain of salt and please excuse the word used for urination. The fact just doesn't make sense without it.

People used to use urine to tan animal skins, so families used to all pee in a pot & then once a day it was taken and sold to the tannery…….if you had to do this to survive you were "P*ss Poor". But worse than that were the really poor folk who couldn't even afford to buy a pot……they "didn't have a pot to p*ss in" & were the lowest of the low.

The next time you are washing your hands and complain because the water temperature isn't just how you like it, think about how things used to be. Here are some facts about the old days…

Most people got married in June because they took their yearly bath in May, and they still smelled pretty good by June. However, since they were starting to smell … brides carried a bouquet of flowers to hide the body odor. Hence the custom today of carrying a bouquet when getting married.

Baths consisted of a big tub filled with hot water. The man of the house had the privilege of the nice clean water, then all the other sons and men, then the women and finally the children. Last of all the babies. By then the water was so dirty you could actually lose someone in it … hence the saying, "Don't throw the baby out with the bath water!"

Houses had thatched roofs with thick straw piled high, with no solid roof. The cats and other small animals including mice, bugs lived in the roof to get warm. When it rained it became slippery and sometimes they would slip and fall off the roof … hence the saying "It's raining cats and dogs."

There was also nothing to stop things from falling into the house. This posed a real problem in the bedroom where bugs and droppings could mess up their nice clean bed. Hence, a bed with big posts and a sheet hung over the top afforded some protection. That's how our luxurious “canopy beds” came into existence.

The floor was dirt. Only the wealthy had something other than dirt. Hence the saying, "Dirt poor." The wealthy had slate floors that would get slippery in the winter when wet, so they spread thresh (straw) on floor to help keep their footing. As the winter wore on, they added more thresh until, when you opened the door, it would all start slipping outside. A piece of wood was placed in the entrance-way. Hence: a “thresh hold”.

In those old days, they cooked in the kitchen with a big kettle that always hung over the fire … every day they lit the fire and added things to the pot. They ate mostly vegetables and didn't get much meat. They would eat the stew for dinner, leaving leftovers in the pot to get cold overnight and then start over the next day. Sometimes stew had food in it that had been there for quite a while. Hence the rhyme: “Peas porridge hot, peas porridge cold, peas porridge in the pot nine days old.”

Sometimes they could obtain pork, which made them feel quite special. When visitors came over, they would hang up their bacon to show off. It was a sign of wealth that a man could, "bring home the bacon." They would cut off a little to share with guests and would all sit around and “chew the fat.”

Those with money had plates made of pewter. Food with high acid content caused some of the lead to leach onto the food, causing lead poisoning death. This happened most often with tomatoes, so for the next 400 years or so, tomatoes were considered “poisonous”.

Bread was divided according to status. Workers got the burnt bottom of the loaf, the family got the middle, and guests got the top, or the “upper crust”.

Lead cups were used to drink ale or whisky. The combination would sometimes knock the imbibers out for a couple of days. Someone walking along the road would take them for dead and prepare them for burial.. They were laid out on the kitchen table for a couple of days and the family would gather around and eat and drink and wait and see if they would wake up. Hence the custom of holding a “wake”.

England is old and small and the local folks started running out of places to bury people. So they would dig up coffins and would take the bones to a bone-house, and reuse the grave. When reopening these coffins, 1 out of 25 coffins were found to have scratch marks on the inside and they realized they had been burying people alive … so they would tie a string on the wrist of the corpse, lead it through the coffin and up through the ground and tie it to a bell. Someone would have to sit out in the graveyard all night (the “graveyard shift”) to listen for the bell; thus, someone could be, “saved by the bell” or was considered a “dead ringer”.

[kerryweaverlesbian]

I Know What Girl Means

I know what girl means.

Girl means lady to gentleman, sister to brother,

Girl means can't do this, and not that, or the other.

Girl means pat on the cheek and a whisky soaked leer,

Girl means that they talk like you're not really here.

So I'm not like that -

Look, hey, I'm not pleased to see you,

Look, a knife to her back,

Look, a palm for a slap.

Look, a bitch is a bitch - she's a pain in the ass!

Look, it isn't my fault if a slut's got no class.

See, they're laughing now, perfect, I'm in with the team,

Knocked out with a punchline, their hot, cool girl dream.

What's gender to a joker?

Knock knock, heard your wife's dead, she's gone up in smoke,

I mean nothing I say but I like that I spoke.

I know what girl means.

Or I used to, I think?

Girl means fluffy and giggly and kissing and pink.

And I don't want that, do I, it isn't allowed,

Girl means stuffing your hurt and your feelings way down,

Girl means rhyme without reason and reason sans rhyme -

Oh no - have I been a girl this whole time?

But I know what girl means -

Girl means what she says,

Girl is coddled and babied and cherished and dead,

Girl is underdeveloped,

Girl is flash on the film,

Girl is fractured and warped and too thin for the kiln.

So, look, really look, get that 360 view,

I can't be a girl, 'cause I'm so much like you.

Now look, look at me,

Don't just skim through the book-

I'm not real if you don't- if you won't- if you -

Look!

Written for @mrcowboydeanwinchester 's Jo birthday bash! Happy Birthday knife girl! This also helpfully coincides with @spnpoetryrenaissance 's gender day! This is because Jo can fit so very much gender in them. I am also going to tag @lesbianjoannaharvelle bc I love you snally!!

[brian-in-finance]

Gif: @clairelizfraser

S03E05 Freedom & Whisky • 8 October 2017 Official Script

Outlander Rewatch 2023 Countdown To Season 7

Favourite Word

This is it. My bat-suit. — Claire

Favourite Line

Fuck fate. — Joe

Favourite Image

Scottish pearls. Jamie gave them to me on our wedding day. They belonged to his mother, Ellen, your grandmother. Wear them on your wedding day... if you’d like. — Claire

Remember… Claire sees a neat white sign: “A. Malcolm, Printer and Bookseller.” Her heart beats hard enough to be heard by anyone listening. Another minute and she will lose her nerve. — Outlander script, S03E05 Freedom & Whisky

34th of 75 • Saturday, 6 May 2023

[release-the-mccracken]

Berquinn Playlist

Bert: Quinn ended up giving me a ride up to my parents' house. It was a beautiful night. I remember the moon was out and there was something different about this person that I'd met and I knew that we were going to write beautifully together.

I take your hand, lead you out to the street. To tell you that your golden hair and pale blue eyelids make me feel like I might go wild. Cheetah print makes me a liar. So I tell you I just like you for your smile.

Every time we lie awake, after every hit we take. Every feeling that I get, but I haven't missed you yet. Only when I stop to think about it, I hate everything about you. Why do I love you?

I promise it will be the last time, that I do all the things that I said that I wouldn't do last night. Then I lose my shit and I slam the door. And I ask myself, "what'd I do that for?" I wanna cause a scene just to feel alive. Maybe I'm only mean 'cause I know you're mine.

You got so down I couldn't get high. You make it harder and harder for me to know who I am, so this time I gotta hear it if you give a goddamn. Your violence feels like kisses to me. Your silence makes it harder to breathe.

You promise me Heaven, then put me through hell. Chains of love got a hold on me. When passion's a prison, you can't break free. Oh, you're a loaded gun.

Got a girl with California eyes and I thought that she could really be the one this time. But I never got the chance to make her mine because she fell in love with little thin white lines.

I'm afraid of all I am, my mind feels like a foreign land. I've spent all of the love I saved. We were always a losing game. Small town boy in a big arcade, I got addicted to a losing game.

Come to me in the night hours. I will wait for you and I can't sleep 'cause thoughts devour. Thoughts of you consume. I can't help but love you, even though I try not to.

The past few months were pretty rough, a couple times wished we both were dead. I never cried like that before. I thought my eyes would pop out of my head. Not just preparing for nightmares, but nothing feels alright now. The length of my hair or the fit of my clothes. And crying like a baby solved nothing.

This is the last time you say, after the last line you break. You say it helps you write your rhymes, whatever helps you sleep at night. You say that you love me. You won't remember in the morning. I'm not gonna stay and watch you circle the drain.

And I ain't seen a light of day since, well, that's not important. It's been long. And I was feeling Whitney, me and my homies sip Houston. Cars and clothes, thought I was winning. You knew I was losing. You told me to wake up, but my clock always stays on snooze.

And I can't see you here, wondering where am I. It sort of feels like I'm running out of time. I haven't found all I was hoping to find. You said you gotta be up in the morning, gonna have an early night. And you're starting to bore me, baby. Why'd you only call me when you're high?

You missed a lesson on looking out for yourself, may not be on the up and up, but I'm on the up and out. So take me to the far side of the beach before it falls into the ocean, before you notice I'm eroding.

Can't walk into my closet without seeing your face. 'Cause all my favorite t-shirts are all your favorite band names. You put me in a Heart-Shaped Box, now you only ever call me when you're high. You know you ruined Nevermind. Now, every song's about you in my mind. But the worst thing that you ever did? You ruined Nirvana. And I can't forgive you for that.

I ain't seen the sunshine in three damn days. Been fueling up on cocaine and whisky. I wish I had a good girl to miss me. Lord, I wonder if I'll ever change my ways. Since you've been gone, my world's been dark and grey. You reminded me of brighter days. I hoped you were coming home to stay.

Never made the wind blow, never made a heart grow. Never made a dove take flight. Never made the sun rise, still can't get my heart right. Only ever made mistakes. So I can see the sunshine, breaking through the skyline. I can feel the warmth it brings, I can't help but stop and think.

Quinn: We made a tape and I remember driving around day and night listening to that tape. And just driving up into the mountains.

[sluttysnails334]

short but very angsty style fic bc I saw a great fan art of them and I wanna write the scene that lead up to it lol

triggers: alcoholism, language, su!c!de themes, self harm, substance abuse, depression/intrusive thoughts

they r around 17/18 here :)

Title: We’re All Broken, Stan

I walk toward bathroom of the cabin. The music from the party still loud as ever, I could hear the muffled base drops of the songs, and girls screaming about how this was their “jam” and feel the subtle vibrations of their dancing.

I have been looking for Stan all evening, asking various people where he’s been. Kenny said he saw him dive into the lake. Butters said he saw him enter Tolkien’s cabin. We weren’t supposed to be inside, it’s a bonfire for crying out loud, but at least I asked Tolkien if I could go in, and he said if Stan is inside to please get him out. So here I am.

I open the door.

There he is. He’s wearing ripped skinny jeans and a red flannel, and his busted ass Chuck Taylor’s and his red puff ball hat. He is clutching a bottle of whisky, and his eyes are closed. They are red and puffy. He has visual acne and, his scars are back.

Despite looking like a drunken mess of a man, I still think he looks beautiful.

“Good Morning, stranger.” I said.

He jolted awake and glared at me, trying to see who I was.

“Kyle? Is that you? Isn’t it the middle of the night??” he asked

“Well it’s 1:30am, so technically morning.” I said

“what are you doing here?” he said.

He isn’t as drunk as I thought he was going to be, I take that as a good sign.

“I could ask you the same thing,” I said

“What I wanted to do was drown in the lake. At least then I’d feel something.” he said

I walk over and sit next to him.

“Randy?” I asked.

I wanted to bring him into a hug. Just simply engulf him in my love but I refrain.

“He fucking got arrested again, and called my mom to bail him out, and she refused. So I did. Then she got all pissed off that I helped Randy and just left.” he said starting off into the hallway.

“I’m sorry. I’m sure she still loves you, she just needs to deal with her own feelings. It’s good that you helped your dad.” I said

“Fucking bullshit, Kyle. He didn’t even care! He didn’t even say so much as a thank you or acknowledgement. He’ll probably go back to jail next week. Oh and Sharon? She’s never cared about me. She just cares about herself. No one gives a flying rats ass if I live or die, because nothing I do is ever good enough!!” he said, tear drops leaking down his face.

“Don’t say that. So it didn’t work out this time. Doesn’t mean you go unnoticed.” I said

I placed a hand on his knee and faced directly at him. Breathing in and out, trying to transfer my energy to him.

“Kyle, no one ever notices me. I do all this shit to help my dumb fucking parents, for what? So we can be a family? I’m sure to do that we’d have to love each other first. They don’t even notice me enough to like me. Besides, no one can love someone who is this broken.” said Stan, as he took a giant gulp of the whiskey

“Ugh, this taste awful” he said.

He is still crying, I wish I knew how to make this better. I wish I knew how to let him know that if I lost him, I’d lose myself. I can’t imagine what my life would be like without him.

“We’re all broken, Stan. It doesn’t make you less perfect. At least to me.” I said

I leaned in and he turned his face toward me.

“I’m not perfect. Kyle. Why do you still do this? Why do you still even fucking care? Don’t you see how I’m beyond repair?? I didn’t mean for that to sound like a stupid rhyme” he said as he drank more of the whiskey

“I don’t give up on people, Stan. I certainly won’t give up on you. I need you to know that, I think you are perfect. Broken or not, and I will never stop trying to help you see the you that I see.” I said.

We slowly had moved several centimeters away from each other. Our breathing was mismatched. I think I could almost hear, Stan’s heart beating. I felt so close to him but so far away.

I closed my eyes and leaned in, and once our lips touched, I tasted the watery salt of his tears.

[clwnprncss]

HARLEEN QUINZEL was one of the most promising post - doctoral researchers that had graduated from GOTHAM UNIVERSITY. With a B. Sc., an M. D. and a PhD under her belt, no one would’ve suspected the upbringing she came from. A father who disappeared from the picture at fifteen for some lowly conning and a dingy Bensonhurst apartment with little to no love to spare didn’t exactly come to mind when talking about a 3.87 GPA and a GYMNASTICS SCHOLARSHIP. And it’s not like people were too apt to believe that those things were WELL DESERVED when they belonged to bleached blonde hair, wide blue eyes, and lips that smiled too often.

Their biases were only STRENGTHENED when she was caught with one of the psychology department professors in what she believed was an act of GENUINE AFFECTION. To say that her graduation was a RELIEF was an understatement. Her peers still mocked her until, to her surprise, the funding for her research at ARKHAM ASYLUM had been granted. She was the one laughing.

This was where the trouble began. She could feel in her bones that something EXTRAORDINARY was about to go down, but she had no idea just how extraordinary it would truly be. Flipping through patient files, she recognized some faces, her television screen having broadcasted them through the darkness of her small apartment, a vague echo of the one in which she was raised bouncing between beige walls. POISON IVY. THE RIDDLER. KILLER CROC. One in particular, however, piqued her interest.

THE JOKER.

A man with no rhyme or reason that anyone could decipher. UNTIL NOW. She was convinced that her predecessors had all come in with the wrong approach. They’d regarded him as nothing more than a criminal, out for personal gain. She begged to differ. To her, he was just like anyone else. “ WHY’D YOU DO IT ?? ” would not be her question. No, she was more concerned with “ HOW CAN I HELP ?? ”. So their first session was booked and her life was changed forever.

Quickly, seeds planted themselves deep in her mind, sprouting furiously. She was never a good sleeper, but now she COULDN’T SLEEP. Not without seeing HIM, and every time she did, she stayed awake for the rest of the night. If it wasn’t for her NEW - FOUND FRIEND ( the cheapest whisky on the shelf ) and their PARTNER ( more caffeine than most humans could handle ), she most certainly would’ve died of exhaustion. But she carried on, knowing that she was GETTING SOMEWHERE her colleagues hadn’t.

Meanwhile, she ignored the ALARMS sounding in her head, warning her to BE CAREFUL. She was convinced she could handle her LITTLE CRUSH. Convinced that it was just EMPATHY crawling up from within her for a patient with which she was working closely. And then, when she could no longer CONVINCE herself, she IGNORED. Ignored the ETHICAL VIOLATIONS. Ignored the RISK TO HER CAREER. Ignored the MESS THAT SHE WAS GETTING HERSELF INTO. Because, in all honesty, the things he said MADE SENSE. And so she spiralled into this self - made pit until she found HIM at the bottom, waiting with OPEN ARMS and a SHARPENED SMILE.

Everything sank into her bones the minute THE BAT had his hands on her patient. WHO WAS HE TO ENFORCE THE ALLEGED MORALITY OF THE CITY ?? The rage festered, manifesting in her attempts to further REHABILITATE her patient. She needed to show him that she UNDERSTOOD. That she was ON HIS SIDE. That’s how she’d win him over, RIGHT ?? But before she could sneak him the weapons he’d requested, another force had seeped its way into ARKHAM.

Before anyone could react, GOTHAM’S MOST WANTED had been granted an early pardon, havoc spilling from every cell into BLOODIED HALLWAYS before taking to the streets. She stumbled upon it halfway through the ordeal, dashing inside despite the horror. SHE HAD TO MAKE SURE HE WAS OKAY. Before her mind was at peace, she’d been cornered, a gun brandished, HARVEY DENT HIMSELF determining her fate with the toss of a coin. She’d been lucky that her patient didn’t believe in such determinism. He believed in BRICKS.The weapon clattered to the ground, metal against tile, her head SPINNING as she tried to make sense of what was going on, her place in this MAD REALITY, who was really the bad guy, how they were going to ESCAPE FROM IT ALL. Flashlight beams rounded the corner and suddenly none of those questions mattered anymore. Another gun had her heart racing, but this time it was aimed at BLEACHED SKIN. Before she could comprehend it, a BULLET WAS DEPLOYED, a shot RINGING through hallowed halls, a body crumpled to the ground. THE JOKER STILL STOOD. She didn’t know what to do. The recoil had her fingers shaking as blue eyes feasted on the scene. AN INNOCENT MAN HAD DIED BY HER HAND.

A laugh slipped from surprised lips.

And then another.

IT WAS HILARIOUS, WASN’T IT ??

Nothing she did, good or bad, accidentally or intentionally, MATTERED. He really was right, and for the first time, she saw it for herself, FIRST - HAND. The blood, the guts, the CHAOS. NONE OF IT MATTERED.

She dove into the acid of her own accord, melting away what was left of HARLEEN. She donned the red and black with a SMILE ON HER FACE, one that mirrored his own, CAREFREE and WILD. Whenever they inevitably fell apart, she'd put the pieces of herself back together into their newly discovered configuration. She had finally found her true self. From then on, she wore her rightful title:

HARLEY QUINN, THE CLOWN PRINCESS OF CRIME.

[1solone]

😯🤔😎

DID YOU KNOW ! ! !

They used to use urine to tan animal skins, so families used to all pee in a pot & then once a day it was taken & Sold to the tannery.......if you had to do this to survive you were "Piss Poor"

But worse than that were the really poor folk who couldn't even afford to buy a pot......they "didn't have a pot to piss in" & were the lowest of the low

The next time you are washing your hands and complain because the water temperature isn't just how you like it, think about how things used to be. Here are some facts about the 1500s:

Most people got married in June because they took their yearly bath in May, and they still smelled pretty good by June.. However, since they were starting to smell . ...... . Brides carried a bouquet of flowers to hide the body odor. Hence the custom today of carrying a bouquet when getting Married.

Baths consisted of a big tub filled with hot water. The man of the house had the privilege of the nice clean water, then all the other sons and men, then the women and finally the children. Last of all the babies. By then the water was so dirty you could actually lose someone in it.. Hence the saying, "Don't throw the baby out with the Bath water!"

Houses had thatched roofs-thick straw-piled high, with no wood underneath. It was the only place for animals to get warm, so all the cats and other small animals (mice, bugs) lived in the roof. When it rained it became slippery and sometimes the animals would slip and fall off the roof... Hence the saying "It's raining cats and dogs."

There was nothing to stop things from falling into the house. This posed a real problem in the bedroom where bugs and other droppings could mess up your nice clean bed. Hence, a bed with big posts and a sheet hung over the top afforded some protection. That's how canopy beds came into existence.

The floor was dirt. Only the wealthy had something other than dirt. Hence the saying, "Dirt poor." The wealthy had slate floors that would get slippery in the winter when wet, so they spread thresh (straw) on floor to help keep their footing. As the winter wore on, they added more thresh until, when you opened the door, it would all start slipping outside. A piece of wood was placed in the entrance-way. Hence: a thresh hold.

In those old days, they cooked in the kitchen with a big kettle that always hung over the fire.. Every day they lit the fire and added things to the pot. They ate mostly vegetables and did not get much meat. They would eat the stew for dinner, leaving leftovers in the pot to get cold overnight and then start over the next day. Sometimes stew had food in it that had been there for quite a while. Hence the rhyme: Peas porridge hot, peas porridge cold, peas porridge in the pot nine days old. Sometimes they could obtain pork, which made them feel quite special. When visitors came over, they would hang up their bacon to show off. It was a sign of wealth that a man could, "bring home the bacon." They would cut off a little to share with guests and would all sit around and chew the fat.

Those with money had plates made of pewter. Food with high acid content caused some of the lead to leach onto the food, causing lead poisoning death. This happened most often with tomatoes, so for the next 400 years or so, tomatoes were considered poisonous.

Bread was divided according to status. Workers got the burnt bottom of the loaf, the family got the middle, and guests got the top, or the upper crust.

Lead cups were used to drink ale or whisky. The combination would Sometimes knock the imbibers out for a couple of days. Someone walking along the road would take them for dead and prepare them for burial.. They were laid out on the kitchen table for a couple of days and the family would gather around and eat and drink and wait and see if they would wake up. Hence the custom of holding a wake.

The country is old and small and the local folks started running out of places to bury people. So they would dig up coffins and would take the bones to a bone-house, and reuse the grave. When reopening these coffins, 1 out of 25 coffins were found to have scratch marks on the inside and they realized they had been burying people alive... So they would tie a string on the wrist of the corpse, lead it through the coffin and up through the ground and tie it to a bell. Someone would have to sit out in the graveyard all night (the graveyard shift.) to listen for the bell; thus, someone could be, saved by the bell or was considered a dead ringer.

And that's the truth....Now, whoever said History was boring?

[anincorrectpetunia]

…

3:57 AM

Whiskey and wine should not mix. But here she was, more than an hour after he left her wet and wanting at her own door. After two glasses of wine, she needed something stronger to make her forget—both the promise of the night they had and the early morning she never received. Thinking about the former made the lack of the latter sting even more. She had raided her mini bar and found whiskey.

It made her feel pretty. And reckless.

Enough to compel her to pick up the phone, call Fitz and give him a piece of her mind. How dare he kiss her like that. Whisper that he wanted her whilst his dick was knocking at her entrance.

She groaned at the memory.

Now he was ignoring her. She ended the call before his voicemail could pick up. Five minutes and two more swigs of whiskey went by before she tried again. The result was the same: no answer. This time, though, she would leave a reply.

"Hey!" That came out aggressive and louder than she thought. Olivia quickly softened her tone, lowered her voice. She was not angry like she had first thought. The low feeling she carried was full of so much more than that, and she was not confident that what spilled from her mouth would express the plenitude of what she felt.

"Hi, hi. I've been drinking whisky, so pardon if I'm impolite. I just really wanted your…you here with me tonight. Hey, that rhymes! Poetic lines, right? Sorry. I uh…I've been thinking about you. I keep thinking about you. About us. I lo—I don't…want to lose you is the only thing on my mind. I can't believe I'm saying this…"

The whisky tumbler rest against her forehead. Was she high? You can't get high from drinking, she self-scolded. Did she almost say that word? High sounded good right now, somewhere above the clouds.

"You should…come over. I'll pour us a drink, babe…"

Suddenly, she was sounding like Adele and it surprised Olivia. She pulled back the phone from her face and looked at the screen, as if someone else had said it. Where did that East London accent come from? Maybe the remnants of hearing her mom speak on the phone to the cousins she left behind.

"But I'm too late, aren't I? I mean…it's late. After 4 AM…I'm rambling now…"

She was not so drunk as to hold back from telling him that he lit a flame inside her she could never extinguish. No matter how hard she tried, he remained. She did not want to fight it anymore.

"I just…Fitz…I wanna go back to the old way. Our Tuesdays. You, with your scotch and me, with my wine. You know, talking to you. Being with you. But I'm not. Instead, I'm here with empty bottles and a little too much to say…"

A hand dragged down the side of her face. She hiccupped like a cartoon character. Suffering succotash, she really should go.

"Ok…bye."

Faded and fading into the night that was quickly becoming day, Olivia's eyes began to shutter before regret could wag its finger. Maybe it was quixotic to think she could have those things she saw in the night sky on Maroon's rooftop. All of it like nothing she had ever experienced before. And therein lies the rub. She could leap and he could catch her. Or she could step off a ledge to be disappointment's assured victim. A fifty-fifty forecast for success did not bode well for leaping. Not at all smart.

Olivia was halfway to dreamland before she heard Connie's voice: but does it feel right?

From Episode 11